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diff --git a/old/55769-0.txt b/old/55769-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7d34c82..0000000 --- a/old/55769-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,19270 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Robert Greene, by Robert Greene - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Robert Greene - Six Plays - -Author: Robert Greene - -Contributor: Thomas H. Dickinson - -Release Date: October 18, 2017 [EBook #55769] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBERT GREENE *** - - - - -Produced by Clare Graham & Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature -(online soon in an extended version,also linking to free -sources for education worldwide ... MOOC's, educational -materials,...) (Images generously made available by the -Internet Archive.) - - - - - -THE COMPLETE PLAYS OF ROBERT GREENE - - -EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES - -BY - -THOMAS H. DICKINSON - - - -_THE MERMAID SERIES_ - -LONDON AND NEW YORK - -[1909] - - - - -[Illustration: _ROBERT GREENE._ -_From John Dickenson's "Greene in Conceipt" (1598)._] - - - - -CONTENTS - - -INTRODUCTION - -ALPHONSUS, KING OF ARRAGON - -A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON AND ENGLAND - -ORLANDO FURIOSO - -FRIAR BACON AND FRIAR BUNGAY - -JAMES THE FOURTH - -GEORGE-A-GREENE, THE PINNER OF WAKEFIELD - -APPENDIX - -NOTES - - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -"Why should art answer for the infirmities of manners?" asks Thomas -Nash in defending the memory of his dead comrade, Robert Greene, -against the attacks of Gabriel Harvey. Some such consideration as this -has been needed to rescue Greene's fame from the uncritical hostility -of later times. It has been the misfortune of the man to be remembered -by posterity chiefly through adverse personal documents. The assaults -of a frustrate and dying man on a successful rival like curses soon -turned home to roost. Gabriel Harvey, the Kenrick of his day, crowned -the dead poet with bays more pathetic than the sordid wreath placed -by Isam's hand. And to complete the tale of disfavour Greene himself -tells his own story with a morbid self-consciousness only exceeding -Bunyan's, and a thrifty purpose to turn even his sins to pence. Though -during Greene's life and after his death circumstances were unmeet to -dispassionate biography, it may promote the calmer mood of a later -age to inquire into the conditions of his disordered career and the -sources of his unique genius. "Debt and deadly sin, who is not subject -to?" cries Nash. "With any notorious crime I never knew him tainted." -Nash refers Greene back to human nature. With Nash, at the best but -lukewarm, and with Symonds, no partisan of Greene's, one believes that -circumstances as well as natural frailty made Greene what he came to -be. And of truth he must be represented as no isolated figure, but as -a man of his times, frail, no doubt, but frail with Marlowe and Peele, -versatile with Sidney and Raleigh, reflective with Spenser, and lusty -with Shakespeare. - - * * * * * - -Robert Greene represents the Elizabethan age at its best and its -worst. What was best in it he helped to consummate. Of the worst he -was the victim as well as the exemplar. Greene's life comprises and -almost defines the greatest era of expansion known in English drama. -Shakespeare's debt to his predecessors is great not only on account -of direct literary influences. The best things his forerunners had -done for him were to free the drama from the regulations of a didactic -art, to provide the dramatist a cultivated audience at home in the -great popular play-houses of the metropolis, and somewhat to relieve -the stage from the awful stigma that had rested on the callings of -the actor and the playwright. When Greene was at preparatory school -and at Cambridge didactic purpose still dominated popular plays. In -_The Conflict of Conscience_ (1560), _King Darius_ (1565), _The Life -and Repentance of Mary Magdalene_ (1566), and _Jacob and Esau_ (1568) -moral drama was late represented. Even in tragedy, and serious drama -on secular subjects, the didactic element persisted in Preston's -_Cambises_ (1569), and in Edward's _Damon and Pithias_ (1571). Only in -Gascoigne did pure art speak for itself. He indeed "broke the ice" for -the greater poets who followed him, but he was a translator, and not an -original dramatist. The most promising writer before 1586 was Robert -Wilson. Critics have seen in his _The Three Ladies of London_ (1584) -the mingling of the old morality and the new art, yet Wilson shows -his subserviency to the demands of his time by making this "a perfect -pattern for all estates to look into," and by presenting the allegory -of three abstractions--Lucre, Love and Conscience. Six years later his -continuation of this play was frankly called a "Moral." Greene himself -shows the same motive in _A Looking-Glass for London and England_ and -in _James IV._; and the late appearance of such plays as _A Warning for -Fair Women_ (1599), and _A Larum for London_ (1602) testifies to the -vitality of the didactic element in drama long after the exponents of a -new art had arisen. - -It is not strange, perhaps, that it was university men who served to -free the drama to the better purposes of art. Themselves trained in -the classics, and in the essentials of Italian culture, they were able -to bring to bear on drama the force of the influence of Seneca, the -pastoral, and the masque, and thereby greatly to increase the range of -inspiration and the instruments of effective expression open to the -playwrights. The fact is, however, worthy of remark that it is to the -university playwrights that we have to credit the transference of the -patronage of the drama out of the hands of the court into the hands -of the people. Lyly had been the first great university dramatist. -His plays, of which _Campaspe_ and _Sapho and Phao_ must have been -composed before 1581, were written for court production. But Lyly's -own melancholy story shows clearly enough that if dramatists were to -flourish at all they needed means of support supplementary to the -uncertain pension of a noble. It was for the sake of this further -support that the playwrights and the actors proceeded to perform their -court plays before the people, first in the inn-yards of the Cross -Keys, the Bull and the Bell Savage, and finally in the Theatre and the -Curtain, erected in 1576 and 1577 in Finsbury Fields. As an indication -of the movement to transfer the support of the drama from the court to -the public it is recorded that in 1575 "Her Majesty's poor players" -were petitioning the Lord Mayor, through the Privy Council, for -permission to play within the city, assigning as reasons the fact that -they needed rehearsal properly to prepare for their court appearances, -and that they needed to earn their livings. The answer of the city -authorities, that plays should be presented by way of recreation by -men with other means of subsistence, was manifestly an avoidance of the -implications of the situation at hand. - -It was not until after the plague of 1586, and the return of the -companies from the provinces, that the university playwrights rose to -a commanding place in the life of the time. And then, though their -plays were still performed at court, it was to the people that the -dramatists made their appeal. Marlowe, and Greene, and Peele and Lodge -now constituted the group of the university wits. The support that -the court had before either withheld, or but fitfully given, was now -vouchsafed liberally at the Theatre and the Curtain. The university -dramatists knew well what was demanded of them. Dismissing the topics -treated by Lyly, and by Peele in his early play, _The Arraignment of -Paris_ (1584), and discarding by degrees the allegorical and didactic -as found in the popular drama of the preceding time, they began to -dramatise the spirit of contemporary life in the form of stories built -from legend and romance, and instinct with the leonine spirit of -awakening England. Marlowe's _Tamburlaine_ is as true to Elizabethan -England as is Dekker's more realistic _Shoemaker's Holiday_; and -Peele's _Old Wives' Tale_ and Greene's _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_ -are both native in England's soil. In the years between 1584 and -1593 the number of companies greatly increased. Fleay mentions nine -companies as performing at court between these dates. Besides the -Queen's players, who comprised, perhaps, two or more companies, there -were companies of my Lord Admiral, Pembroke, Sussex and other lords. -Normally the playwrights wrote only for the company to which they -were attached. It is believed that at one time Lodge, Peele, Marlowe -and Greene were together as playwrights for the Queen's men playing -at the Theatre. Later the first three went over to the support of the -Admiral's men, and thereafter often changed their allegiance, but -Greene probably wrote only for the Queen's players until his death. -Soon other dramatists aligned themselves with the movements of the new -drama, and out of the jealous rivalry aroused by the entrance into -the field of dramatic authorship of such non-university playwrights -as Kyd and Shakespeare there developed the maze of controversy and -vituperation that has made the Elizabethan age famous as an era of -personal pamphleteering. - -But though the drama was occupying an increasingly prominent place in -the life of the time the professional actors and playwrights were in -decided ill-repute. With the managers and with the actors the returns -from the stage were sufficient to salve the hurt of the odium under -which their profession rested. Richard Burbage died a rich man, and -Alleyn, who played in at least one of Greene's plays, became so wealthy -that he could found a college. So also, as we learn from the slighting -references to them by the dramatists, the actors were well able to -line their pockets with the returns of their calling. But the pamphlet -literature of the time reveals the extraordinary hostility with which -all connected with the theatre were viewed. Gosson's _School of Abuse_ -(1579), _A Second and Third Blast of Retrait from Plays and Theatres_ -(1580), Stubb's _Anatomy of Abuses_ (1583), and Babington's _Exposition -of the Commandments_ (1583) contain vigorous attacks on the stage as an -institution and on all who follow its fortunes. Distrust and jealousy -were common within the ranks of the actors and playwrights. So Chettle -does not know Marlowe and does not wish to know him; Nash, though he -defends Greene against Harvey, expressly disclaims any intimacy; and we -shall learn that Greene was jealous of Marlowe during a large portion -of his period of dramatic authorship. But the playwrights abominated -the actors even more than they distrusted each other. Frequently they -refer to actors as puppets and apes dressed up in another's feathers. -Greene, in _Never too Late_, calls the actor "Esop's crow," and in _A -Groatsworth of Wit_, in the famous passage referring to Shakespeare, -he calls the actors "burrs," "puppets that speak from our mouths," -and "antics garnished in our colours." The author of _The Return from -Parnassus_ (1602) calls them "mimic apes," and Florio, in his preface -to _Montaigne's Essays_ (translated 1603) refers to actors as "base -rascals, vagabond abjects, and porterly hirelings." Though proud of -their calling as literary men the dramatists looked with shame on -their writing for the stage. Lodge, who in 1580 had defended poetry -and plays against Gosson, in _Scillæ's Metamorphosis_ of 1589 declared -his determination "to write no more of that whence shame doth grow." -If Greene refers to plays at all he calls them "vanities"; connects -their composition with the basest efforts of life, and arraigns -dependence on "so mean a stay." Even Shakespeare "in disgrace with -fortune and men's eyes" beweeps alone his "outcast state" (Sonnet -XXIX), and exclaims "For I am shamed by that which I bring forth" -(Sonnet LXXII). Conditions like these are not likely to bring the -better social adjustments into play, or to call into a profession those -who value name and fame supremely. Schelling[1] calls attention to -the fact that playwriting took a higher position at the beginning of -the seventeenth century than it had taken at the end of the previous -century, and compares Marlowe, Shakespeare, Greene and Jonson, the sons -of low life, with Beaumont, Fletcher, Chapman, Middleton and Marston, -the sons of gentlemen. By the time the sons of gentlemen were ready -to take to playwriting the path had been made ready for them by their -predecessors. Society of the times in which Greene lived was not ready -to treat either a playwright or an actor as a good citizen. And a son -of a nobleman, entering the ranks of the pioneers, would have given his -life as a sacrifice just as did Marlowe and Greene. Lodge was the son -of a Lord Mayor, Peele's father was a man of some education, and Lyly -had influential connections at court; yet the only man of the entire -school of "university wits" who escaped a life of misery and a death -of want was Lodge, and he in 1596 deserted literature for medicine. We -cannot consider Greene's "memory a blot"[2] on a time that is truly -represented as well by the tragical as the heroic outlines of his -character and history. - - * * * * * - -The sources of our knowledge and deduction concerning Greene's life are -of four classes--records, autobiographical pamphlets and allusions, -contemporary references, legends. To the indubitable records belong -the university registers, the stationers' registers, and the title -pages to his printed books. From the first we learn that Greene was -entered as a sizar at St John's College, Cambridge, 26th November 1575, -that he was admitted to the degree of B.A. some time in 1578, that -he proceeded to the degree of M.A., after residence at Clare Hall, -Cambridge, in 1583; from the second we learn that his first book was -the first part of _Mamillia_, entered for publication 3rd October 1580, -though not published until 1583, and other facts concerning the time of -publication of his successive books and plays; from the signature to -the _Maiden's Dream_, "R. Greene, _Nordericensis_," and to the address -to Lodge's _Euphues Shadow_, "Robert Greene _Norfolciensis_," we learn -that Greene was born in Norfolk. Of a lower order of certainty as to -their application to Greene, yet still satisfying the closest scrutiny, -is the record in the parish register of St Leonard's, Shoreditch, of -the burial of Greene's illegitimate child, Fortunatus Greene, 12th -August 1593; and the record in the register of St George, Tombland, -uncovered and interpreted by Collins, indicating that the dramatist -himself was the second child of Robert Greene, a saddler, and Jane his -wife, and was baptised the 11th of July 1558. - -To the second class of biographical materials belong Greene's own -prose works, the _Mourning Garment, Never too Late_, with the second -part, _Francesco's Fortunes_, the _Groatsworth of Wit_, all partly -autobiographical; and _The Repentance of Robert Greene_, confessedly -autobiographical, but, until lately, of questioned authenticity. -The biographical material in these works is ample, but its value -is discounted by certain considerations involved in the motives of -Greene's pamphlet composition. When Greene began to write, art was not -yet strong enough to command a popular hearing without the assistance -of a didactive motive. Adapting himself to the conditions with a tact -that made him the most broadly read writer of his time, Greene made -edification the end of his writing from the first. His second work to -be entered on the Stationers' Register, March 1581, had a distinct -moral purpose: "Youth, seeing all his ways so troublesome, abandoning -virtue and leaning to vice, recalleth his former follies with an inward -repentance." In choosing topics for popular pamphlets Greene tells -such a story as that derived from Ælian in _Planetomachia_ (1585), -or he tells over the story of the prodigal son as in the _Mourning -Garment_. And throughout his life moral purpose remained a factor in -his prose and drama. He turned from romances to the composition of the -conny-catching pamphlets, in the trust "that those discourses will do -great good, and be very beneficial to the commonwealth of England." _A -Looking-Glass for London and England_ is a pure moral interlude. Often -he moralises when it is unnecessary to do so, or when he has to change -his original to introduce a didactic motive. Even the Palmer who tells -the tale of _Never too Late_ is himself penitent for his past sins. -In _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_ the jolly friar of Brazen-nose is -made at the end to surrender his calling through motives of remorse -as far as possible from the spirit of his life, and _James IV._ ends -with a penitent sovereign begging forgiveness for his sins. These -facts show, if they show anything, that the motive of repentance was a -conventional thing with Greene, and that however faithful it may have -been to his own experience not the least advantage in its use lay in -its popularity. That it was a popular motive is shown by the vogue of -such books as Tarlton's _News out of Purgatory_ (1590), and by the fact -that T. Newman, in a dedication to _Greene's Vision_ (1592), asserts -that "many have published repentances in his name." That much of -Greene's autobiographical material is veracious we have corroborative -evidence to prove; we should, however, not be justified in accepting it -all without question. There is a bland shamelessness in the confession -of sins that is itself one of the best signs of health. When Greene -says, "I saw and practised such villainy as is abominable to declare," -he is expressing in phrase strikingly similar to Hamlet's words to -Ophelia, "I am myself indifferent honest; but yet I could accuse me -of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me," a -characteristic moral attitude of the times. - -What do we learn from the romances concerning Greene's life? The -_Mourning Garment_ is a modernised version of the prodigal son -story, and its relation to Greene's own history may be slight or -even factitious. The story of _Never too Late_ touches Greene more -closely. In this there is recounted the fortunes of "a gentleman of an -ancient house, called Francesco; a man whose parentage though it were -worshipful, yet it was not indued with much wealth; insomuch that his -learning was better than his revenues, and his wit more beneficial -than his substance." This Francesco, "casting his eye on a gentleman's -daughter that dwelt not far from Caerbranck," named Isabel, fell in -love with her, and married her against the opposition of Fregoso, her -father. For five years "they laboured to maintain their loves, being -as busy as bees, and as true as turtles, as desirous to satisfy the -world with their desert as to feed the humours of their own desires." -At the end of this time they were reconciled with Fregoso, and "they -counted this smile of fortune able to countervail all the contrary -storms that the adverse planets had inflicted upon them." Now after -two years "it so chanced that Francesco had necessary business to -dispatch certain his urgent affairs at the chief city of that island, -called Troynovant: thither, with leave of his father, and farewell to -his wife, he departed after they were married seven years." In the city -he surrendered to the lures of a courtesan, Infida, and "seated in her -beauty, he lived a long while, forgetting his return to Caerbranck." -For three years the two lovers "securely slumbered in the sweetness -of their pleasures," ignoring the womanly complaints of Isabel and -neglectful of the passage of time. Then finding that "all his corn -was on the floor, that his sheep were dipt, and the wool sold," -Infida turned him out of doors. Francesco laments his hard fortune in -an invective against courtesans that stings with the passion of the -author's personal feeling. In his "perplexity he passed over three or -four days till his purse was clean empty" and he was compelled "to -carry his apparel to the brokers, and with great loss to make money -to pay for his diet." "In this humour he fell in amongst a company -of players, who persuaded him to try his wit in writing of comedies, -tragedies, or pastorals, and if he could perform anything worth the -stage, then they would largely reward him for his pains. Francesco, -glad of this motion, seeing a means to mitigate the extremity of his -want, thought it no dishonour to make gain of his wit or to get profit -by his pen: and therefore, getting him home to his chamber, writ a -comedy; which so generally pleased all the audience that happy were -those actors in short time that could get any of his works, he grew so -exquisite in that faculty." The remainder of the story relates Isabel's -repulse of the seductions of an admirer, Infida's unsuccessful efforts -at reconciliation with the now prosperous Francesco, and the latter's -penitent return to his faithful wife. - -The story told in _A Groatsworth of Wit_ quite closely resembles that -of _Never too Late_ and is clearly autobiographical. To this fact -Greene bears witness when, near the end of the story, he writes: "Here, -gentlemen, break I off Roberto's speech, whose life in most part -agreeing with mine, found one self punishment as I have done. Hereafter -suppose me the said Roberto, and I will go on with that he promised." -In this story, "an old new-made gentleman" named Gorinius, living -in an island city "made rich by merchandise, and populous by long -space," had two sons, the one a scholar, named Roberto, married and -but little regarded, the other named Lucanio, the heir-apparent of his -father's ill-gathered goods. On his death-bed Gorinius bequeathed his -entire property to Lucanio: "only I reserve for Roberto, thy well-read -brother, an old groat (being the stock I first began with), wherewith -I wish him to buy a groatsworth of wit." Upon the death of Gorinius, -and the distribution of the property according to will, Roberto "grew -into an inward contempt of his father's unequal legacy, and determinate -resolution to work Lucanio all possible injury." As Lucanio "was of -a condition simple, shamefast, and flexible to any counsel," Roberto -seemed on a fair way to success, until Lamilia, a courtesan with whom -he had plotted for Lucanio's undoing, repudiated the understanding and -informed the heir of the plot against his gold. Forbidden the house, -"Roberto, in an extreme ecstasy, rent his hair, curst his destiny, -blamed his treachery, but most of all exclaimed against Lamilia, and -in her against all enticing courtesans." ... "With this he laid his -head on his hand, and leant his elbow on the ground, sighing out sadly, -'Heu patior telis vulnera facta meis!'" Roberto's lamentations were -overheard by one sitting on the other side of the hedge, who, getting -over, offered such comfort as his ability would yield, doing so "the -rather," as he said, "for that I suppose you are a scholar, and pity -it is men of learning should live in lack." Greatly wondering Roberto -asked how he might be employed. "'Why, easily,' quoth he, 'and greatly -to your benefit; for men of my profession get by scholars their whole -living.' 'What is your profession?' said Roberto. 'Truly, sir,' said -he, 'I am a player.' 'A player!' quoth Roberto; 'I took you rather -for a gentleman of great living; for if by outward habit men should -be censured, I tell you, you would be taken for a substantial man.' -'So am I where I dwell,' quoth the player, 'reputed able at my proper -cost to build a windmill.'" Roberto now again asked how he was to be -used. "'Why, sir, in making plays,' said the other; 'for which you -shall be well paid, if you will take the pains.' Roberto, perceiving -no remedy, thought it best to respect his present necessity, (and), to -try his wit, went with him willingly." As Roberto's fortunes improved -Lucanio's drooped, until finally "Roberto hearing of his brother's -beggary, albeit he had little remorse of his miserable state, yet did -he seek him out, to use him as a property; whereby Lucanio was somewhat -provided for." The character and miserable end of Roberto as a result -of the profession he had assumed may be given in Greene's own words: -"For now when the number of deceits caused Roberto to be hateful -almost to all men, his immeasurable drinking had made him the perfect -image of the dropsy, and the loathsome scourge of lust tyrannised in -his bones. Living in extreme poverty, and having nothing to pay but -chalk, which now his host accepted not for current, this miserable man -lay comfortlessly languishing, having but one groat left (the just -proportion of his father's legacy), which looking on, he cried, 'O, now -it is too late, too late to buy wit with thee; and therefore will I see -if I can sell to careless youth what I negligently forgot to buy.'" - - * * * * * - -To a somewhat different class of testimony belongs _The Repentance of -Robert Greene_, probably an authentic exemplar of that very popular -class of deathbed repentance that was multiplied by other hands after -Greene's death. Little can be found in this work but admonitions to a -higher life and caveats against lust. Such details as are given are -presented with no chronology. Of his early life Greene tells us that -"being at the University of Cambridge, I light amongst wags as lewd -as myself, with whom I consumed the flower of my youth; who drew me to -travel into Italy and Spain, in which places I saw and practised such -villainy as is abominable to declare.... At my return into England, -I ruffled out in my silks, in the habit of malcontent, and seemed so -discontent that no place would please me to abide in, nor no vocation -cause me to stay myself in: but after I had by degrees proceeded Master -of Arts, I left the university and away to London; where (after I -had continued some short time, and driven myself out of credit with -sundry of my friends) I became an author of plays, and a penner of -love-pamphlets, so that I soon grew famous in that quality, that who -for that trade grown so ordinary about London as Robin Greene?" Once, -Greene tells us, he felt a terror of God's judgment. This followed a -lecture by a "godly learned man" in St Andrew's Church in the city of -Norwich. But when his companions fell upon him, in a jesting manner -calling him Puritan and precisian, and wished he might have a pulpit, -what he had learned went quite out of his remembrance. "Soon after I -married a gentleman's daughter of good account, with whom I lived for a -while; but ... after I had a child by her, I cast her off, having spent -up the marriage money which I had obtained by her. - -"Then left I her at six or seven, who went into Lincolnshire, and I to -London; where in short space I fell into favour with such as were of -honourable and good calling." But though he knew how to get a friend -he "had not the gift or reason how to keep a friend." Further he tells -us that he had wholly betaken himself to the planning of plays, that -"these vanities and other trifling pamphlets I penned of love and vain -fantasies was my chiefest stay of living," and that he had refrained -his wife's company for six years. - -What may be the value of the third class of biographical material, -that derived from contemporary references, is, perhaps, best revealed -by reviewing the history of the controversy with Gabriel Harvey. In -1590 Richard Harvey, the second of three brothers, attacked all poets -and writers, and Lyly and Nash particularly, in a pamphlet entitled -_The Lamb of God_, terming them "piperly make-plays and make-bates," -and comparing them with Martin. Though not himself attacked, Greene, -because "he writ more than four others," retorted in defence of -his brother dramatists in _A Quip for an Upstart Courtier_ (1592), -making a satirical thrust at the Harveys as the sons of a rope-maker. -At the request of Greene's physician the most offensive lines were -expunged from all except possibly the first edition. But the harm -had been done. Greene died before the Harveys could or would make -answer. Then, in Gabriel Harvey's _Four Letters_ (1592), the memory -of Greene was attacked in one of the most venomous pamphlets known to -the literature of vilification. Harvey's four epistles were followed -by Nash's _Strange News_, and other controversial pamphlets, in which -Nash attempts, rather light-heartedly, to defend Greene's memory. Other -writers who take occasion to speak a good word for Greene, after his -death, are Chettle in _A Kind Hart's Dream_ (1593), a certain R. B., -author of _Greene's Funerals_ (1594), and Meres in _Palladis Tamia_ -(1598). Strange as it may seem it is impossible to decide that Harvey -seriously wronged Greene in his accounts of fact. Like Greene, Harvey -has been too much abused on account of his unfortunate quarrels with -men whom history was to discover were his superiors. His pedantry, -his egotism, and the very virulence of his hatred seem to nullify the -effect of his assault, without greatly militating against the truth -of the account he gives. Nash, who is vigorous in his expressions of -respect for his friend, is notably weak in his rebuttals of fact. -With the exception of some manifest exaggerations, Harvey's account -of Greene's death-bed, of his association with Cutting Ball and his -sister, and of his son Fortunatus, must be accepted as substantially a -true one. Harvey's account will not be given here but it is epitomised -when "we come to finish up his life." - -There remain for consideration, and in most part for dismissal, a -few traditions that have grown up about the name of Greene. Early -biographers, among whom was Dyce, attempted to show that Greene had -at one time been a minister. This opinion was partly based upon -the two manuscript notes on a copy of _George-a-Greene_: "Written -by ... a minister who acted the piner's pt in it himselfe. Teste -W. Shakespeare," and "Ed. Juby saith that ye play was made by Ro. -Greene." Aside from the fact that these notes are not shown to -have any authority, and may, in fact, contradict each other, the -probabilities are all against the hypothesis that Greene was ever a -minister. Nowhere in his singularly open personal revelations does -he suggest that he ever acted as such. Indeed, his expressions are -inconsistent with such an idea. "In all my life I never did any good," -he writes in his _Repentance_, and in the same tract he tells of that -incipient conversion that was nipped in the bud by the ridicule of -his fellows. Surely this account does not sound like the confession -of an ex-minister, and these same copesmates would certainly not have -maintained silence had they known that Greene had held a living. -Considerations of time make it impossible that Greene should have been -the Robert Greene who, in 1576, was one of the Queen's chaplains, -for at this time he could not have been more than eighteen years -old; nor is it at all likely that he is the Greene who, in 1584-5, -was vicar of Tollesbury in Essex, for in these years he was engaged -in the unclerical exercise of preparing for printing _The Mirror of -Modesty, Morando The Tritameron of Love, The Card of Fancy,_ and -_Planetomachia_. The theory that Greene was an actor is traced back to -the manuscript notes already quoted, and to some ambiguous remarks by -Harvey in his _Four Letters_. Fleay's ingenious conjecture that Greene -is identical with that Rupert Persten who accompanied Leicester's -company to Saxony and Denmark in 1585-87, and that this name is -equivalent to "Robert the Parson," is discredited on philological -grounds as well as for its general lack of weight. That Greene may have -now and then assumed a part upon the stage is quite possible; but that -he never associated himself with the actor's calling is made quite -clear from his contemptuous treatment of actors in the passages already -quoted. It is perhaps not entirely necessary to dismiss the theory, -based on the entry on the title-page of _Planetomachia_, "By Robert -Greene, Master of Arts and student in physic," that Greene had intended -to study medicine, and was hindered from pursuing his purpose by his -success in literature. It is likely, however, that Greene here uses -the term "physic" in the sense of "natural philosophy," as it was used -by Chaucer and Gower, and that he had particular desire to defend his -ability to treat an astronomical topic such as that of _Planetomachia_. - - * * * * * - -We have, in a disjointed manner, no doubt, presented Greene's life -under the heads of the sources from which our information is gained, -rather than in regular chronological sequence, in order that due -discrimination may be used in constructing the finished scheme of his -life's activities. To the imaginative reader there is material enough -and to spare, but to the exact scientist there is a bare modicum. -Without rash assumptions it seems safe to imagine that Greene's -father, like Rabbi Bilessi and Gorinius, was well-to-do; that with the -exception of the duration of his domestic life, Greene's married life -is substantially represented by the story of Isabel and Francesco; -that as a playwright Greene experienced the vicissitudes suggested -in _Never too Late_ and _A Groatsworth of Wit_; and that his death -is substantially represented by Harvey in _Four Letters_. Attempting -a bare outline of Greene's life one would feel safe in assuming that -he was born not earlier than 1558; that he took his bachelor's degree -at St John's College, Cambridge, in 1578; thereafter toured the -continent, probably after the 3rd of October 1580, at which date the -first part of _Mamillia_ was registered; that returning he took his -M.A. at Clare Hall in 1583, and immediately began the composition of -love pamphlets and comedies, the latter being now lost; that he married -not later than 1585, lived with his wife until after the birth of a -child, in 1586 deserted her, and went to London never to return. There -undertaking the composition of serious plays, the first extant play is -produced in 1587 or 1588, he is incorporated Master of Arts at Oxford -in July 1588, and continues "that high and loose course of living which -poets generally follow" (Anthony Wood), writing love pamphlets until -about 1590, and then, in obedience to a promise repeatedly made by -himself, pressing forward the exposure of the devices used by cozeners -and conny-catchers, until his untimely death on 3rd September 1592. - -During the last twelve years of a short but varied and active life -Greene was more or less prominently before the public eye. For much -of this time he was easily the most widely read of English writers. -His literary activities were scattered over a broad range of topics -and styles. In his work there are represented the wit, the romance, -the bombast, the Euphuism, the Arcadianism, and no less the new -naturalism of his time. He expressed himself in novellas, in pamphlets, -in controversial broadsides, in comedies, in serious plays, and -in Italianate verse. He was in fact the first _litterateur_[3] of -England, and his prose fiction represents what Herford has called -"for English-speaking contemporaries the most considerable body of -English narrative which the language yet contained." Twenty-seven -romances and prose tracts were published during Greene's lifetime, -excluding _The Defence of Conny-catching_, which cannot with certainty -be ascribed to him; and nine tracts and plays, including the doubtful -_George-a-Greene_, were published after his death. - -Aside from Greene's remarkable versatility and rapidity of -workmanship,[4] his most striking characteristic as an author is his -ability immediately to adapt himself to the changing literary demands -of the hour. This will be seen to have particular significance in -connection with the question of the chronology of his plays, yet it is -pertinent here as pointing the dividing line between his earlier and -later interests in composition. At the end of _Never too Late_ (1590) -Greene says, "And therefore as soon as may be, gentlemen, look for -Francesco's further fortunes, and after that my _Farewell to Folly_, -and then adieu to all amorous pamphlets." And in the dedication of -_Francesco's Fortunes_ (Part II. of _Never too Late_) he advised his -gentlemen readers to look for "more deeper matters." So also at the end -of his _Mourning Garment_ (1590) Greene announces that he will write no -more love pamphlets. This work must serve as the first-fruits of his -new labours and the last farewell to his fond desires. Again, in the -dedicatory epistle to _Farewell to Folly_, licensed in 1587 but not -published until 1591, about which time it is reasonable to suppose the -epistle was written, he says this is "the last I mean ever to publish -of such superficial labours." That he is sincere in this promise is -clear from the fact that, while he published _Philomela_ in 1592, he is -careful in doing so to explain that it had been hatched long ago and -was now given his name at the solicitation of his printer. We have here -fixed a point about the year 1590 for the beginning of new and more -serious work. Two theories have been advanced to explain the nature of -this work. The one theory, which has among its adherents Collins, the -latest editor of Greene's complete plays, supposes that Greene must -refer to the beginning of his play-writing. Against this theory there -are the strong objections that Greene must have written plays before -he made any promise to engage in more serious writing, the strong -circumstantial and internal evidence that several of the extant plays -ante-date such a promise, and the no less significant fact that Greene -had no pride in his work as a playwright and no respect for the calling -as a serious occupation. The second theory is that Greene had long -contemplated the exposure of the arts and devices of the under-world of -prey, and that the year 1590 represents approximately the time at which -he ceased the composition of romantic and mythologising pamphlets, -which associated him with Lyly and Sidney and the more affected of the -university writers, and began the composition of realistic studies in -the rogue society of his own time. There is no reason to suppose that -Greene was not sincere in his desire to present an edifying picture of -the dangers surrounding London youth and the weaknesses and vanities in -English society.[5] - -The first pamphlet, _A Notable Discovery of Cosenage_, was printed -in 1591, and was "written for the general benefit of all gentlemen, -citizens, apprentices, country farmers and yeomen." Thereafter -followed _The Second Part of Conny-catching, The Third and Last Part -of Conny-catching, A Disputation Between a He Conny-catcher and a -She Conny-catcher,_ and others of the same type, of equal or less -authenticity. All of these are very far from the old romance in -content, in method and in language; Greene is now bold, slashing and -fearless, and wields something of the scorpion whip of Nash in his -taunting cruelty of assault. Changing his attitude he now stands very -near his subject; he writes from among the society he castigates. -There is some unusual significance in this new attitude of Greene's, -particularly for drama. We shall find, it is believed, the same -distinction between Greene's earlier and later plays, not as clearly -marked as the change in prose, but definite enough to establish -within the dramatic work of Greene a line of cleavage separating the -mythology-loaded language and unnatural incident of the _Tamburlaine_ -and _Spanish Tragedy_ type of play from the plays of simple poetry and -homely rural atmosphere that were to prepare the way for the domestic -drama of Heywood and Dekker and Munday and Chettle, and to have a real -influence on the dramaturgy of Shakespeare. - -Upon the question of the chronology of Greene's plays no editor can -afford to be dogmatic. Yet so carefully have the varied spiritual -forces of Greene's life been studied in connection with the manifest -literary influences of his time, and so painstaking have been the -deductions from those facts with which we are provided, that one feels -safe in laying down, upon the researches of such scholars as Dyce, -Fleay, Storojenko, Gayley and Collins,[6] an almost certain scheme -of succession and chronology of Greene's extant dramas. A point of -departure is provided by the theory of Collins, often vigorously -insisted upon, that Greene did not begin to write plays until about -1590. In this belief Collins is joined by C. H. Hart,[7] who adduces -the passage from Greene's _Farewell to Folly_, quoted two pages -above, as a reason for thinking Greene took up playwriting near the -end of his life. Against any such theory there are strong specific as -well as important general objections. It would require that all of -Greene's plays, in addition to half a dozen pamphlets, should have been -written between the opening of 1591 and the time of Greene's death -in 1592. In _A Groatsworth of Wit_ Greene all but certainly refers -to himself as an "arch play-making poet," and in _The Repentance of -Robert Greene_ he says, "I became an author of plays and a penner of -love pamphlets." Certainly that total dissolution that follows the -practices of his calling could not have taken place in two years, nor -would one who thus joins the composition of plays and poems have waited -until ten years after the licensing of his first tract in 1580 to -write his first play. If _Never too Late_ and _A Groatsworth of Wit_ -have any autobiographical value whatever those portions that treat of -playwriting experience are worthy the most credence, and the theory -that Greene should have taken up playwriting late is quite inconsistent -with the purport of both of them. - -But aside from any such considerations as these, there are certain -general principles having to do with the customs of literary -composition of the time, and particularly of the group in which Greene -moved, that make it quite improbable that Greene should have waited -until 1590 before beginning to write plays. Nothing is clearer than -that the movements of these pre-Shakespearean groups were not movements -of the individual but of the mass. There is in the work of this era -the utmost possible play and interplay of influence. Marlowe was the -only strikingly originative writer of the times, yet the facets of his -contact with the literary life of England and the Continent have by no -means as yet been numbered. Any new style of composition immediately -assumed the dignity of a school. Lyly's style became so popular that -Euphuism became a convention. So the appearance of the _Arcadia_, -of _Tamburlaine_, of a romance by Greene, was followed by a flood -of imitative works. Greene's _Tully's Love_ is used in _Every Woman -in Her Humour_, a comedy of humours after the model of Jonson; the -author of _Sir John Oldcastle_ borrows from _The Pinner of Wakefield_ -the swallowing of the seals; Harvey accuses Nash of being "the ape -of Greene," and Greene of being the "ape of Euphues"; _Tamburlaine_ -is imitated again and again, sometimes in whole, as in _Alphonsus of -Arragon, Selimus,_ and _The Battle of Alcazar_, but more often through -the unconscious influence of its affected language and dramatic types. -As much can be said of the imitation of Kyd's _Spanish Tragedy_. -Traces of the same source-book appear in Greene's _Friar Bacon and -Friar Bungay_ and Marlowe's _Dr Faustus_, and identical lines appear -in Greene's _Orlando Furioso_ and Peele's _Old Wives' Tale_. The same -comedy appears in _A Looking-Glass for London and England_, _Locrine_ -and _Selimus_, and _The Taming of a Shrew_ contains lines from -_Tamburlaine_ and _Dr Faustus_. Shakespeare borrows from Greene, Oberon -for _A Midsummer Night's Dream_; features of the story of Euphues, -his Censure to _Philautus_ for _Troilus and Cressida_; features of -_Farewell to Folly_ for _Much Ado About Nothing_; characters from -the _Mourning Garment_ for Polonius and Laertes, and innumerable -reminiscent lines. Sometimes the influence is more complicate still. -Greene in _Pandosto_ borrows from Lyly's _Campaspe_, and Shakespeare, -borrowing from Greene for his _Winter's Tale_, approximates Lyly's -form; and Greene, ridiculing Marlowe's _Tamburlaine_, makes some -allusions that indicate that he as well as Marlowe must have been -acquainted with Primaudaye. Cases of this kind are so frequent that -they seem to have no individual bearing, but to refer to the general -conditions of art composition of the day. In such a system of community -of ideas Greene was entirely at home. Of this we have abundant evidence -in his often displayed ability to feel the popular pulse, and to -make himself a part of every growing movement. His first works were -written under the influence of the Italian school. In these early -works there is a strong strain of Euphuism, which is made explicit -in his _Euphues, his Censure to Philautus_ (1587). Two years later a -new style had arisen through the composition of Sidney's _Arcadia_ -(published in 1590), and Greene aligns himself with the new pastoral -movement in his _Menaphon_. Not content with the tacit desertion of the -conceits of Lyly he gives his new work the sub-title _Camilla's Alarum -to Slumbering Euphues_, and attacks his old models for artificiality. -So also Greene is quick to utilise contemporary events to add to -the popular appeal of his writings. From the publication of the -_Spanish Masquerado_ (1589), celebrating the victory over the _Spanish -Armada_, there is every reason to believe Greene received his warmest -recognition at court; and sincere as were his conny-catching pamphlets -we may be sure that their value was not lessened in Greene's eyes by -their popular appeal. Greene was neither more nor less of an imitator -than his fellows; his ideals and methods of composition were, no doubt, -those of his time, and if we cannot claim for him that he consistently -broke ground in new domains of expression, we may at any rate be -certain that he did not fall far behind in the progressive motion of -the art of his era. - -The significance of these things in the study of the chronology -of Greene's plays should be manifest. There were during Greene's -literary life three extraordinary dramatic successes on the London -stage--_Tamburlaine, Dr Faustus_ and _The Spanish Tragedy_. It is -reasonable to suppose that the man who, in prose composition, always -struck when the iron was hot, would, as a playwright, use the same -expedition to take advantage of a popular wave of enthusiasm. That -Greene's _Alphonsus of Arragon_ was written under the inspiration of -Marlowe's _Tamburlaine_, and that _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_ was -written as a reflex from _Dr Faustus_ is so certain as to require no -demonstration. And it is only less certain that we have in _Orlando -Furioso_ a reminiscence of _Tamburlaine_ and of _The Spanish Tragedy_, -and that _James IV._ was inspired as a pseudo-historical play by -the growing popularity of the chronicle type. According to the best -authority obtainable _Tamburlaine_ appeared in 1587, _The Spanish -Tragedy_ before 1587, and _Dr Faustus_ in 1588. With these conditions -before us, and in the light of Greene's known character and the -habits of the times, it is scarcely possible to think that Greene -should have waited until _Dr Faustus_ had somewhat dimmed the lustre -of _Tamburlaine_ before imitating the latter; or that he should have -ignored the undoubted vigour of the magician motive to imitate a form -that had enjoyed prior popularity, only to take up for treatment a -drama in the occult spirit, when this type in its turn had been laid on -the shelf in favour of the newer form of chronicle play. Ignoring then -for the present _A Looking-Glass for London and England_, which is not -entirely Greene's own composition, and _George-a-Greene_, concerning -which doubts must exist, we are provided with the order of succession -of the four remaining plays in the order of publication of their -prototypes: _Alphonsus of Arragon, Orlando Furioso, Friar Bacon and -Friar Bungay, James IV._ Further investigation provides more explicit -chronological data. - -_Alphonsus of Arragon_ is the earliest of Greene's extant plays. Its -date has been set at 1587 or 1588 by Gayley, who has carefully worked -over the conclusions of Fleay, Storojenko and others. That Greene -had been interested in Alphonsus as early as 1584 is clear from his -mention of the name in the dedication to _The Card of Fancy_. The play -was not written before _Tamburlaine_, for that hero is mentioned in it; -on the other hand there are several considerations that seem to show -that it was written soon after _Tamburlaine_ in an effort to share some -of that play's popularity. Greene's words in the prologue: - - "Will now begin to treat of bloody Mars, - Of doughty deeds and valiant victories." - -seem to announce a purpose to begin a new warlike vein. The play -resembles _Tamburlaine_ in bombast, in rant, in comparing a victorious -warrior with the gods, in the motive of Asiatic and Mohammedan -conquest, and in its double original design. Unlike _Tamburlaine_ -only one of the parts was completed. There is a possibility that the -two plays are mentioned in conjunction by Peele in his well-known -"Farewell" verses to Sir John Norris and his companions (1589): - - "Bid theatres and proud tragedians, - Bid Mahomet's Poo and mighty Tamburlaine, - King Charlemayne, Tom Stukeley and the rest, - Adieu." - -By the ingenuity of Mr Fleay we are able to conjecture that "Mahomet's -Poo" probably refers to the brazen head, or poll, through which the -Prophet speaks in the fourth act of the play. - -That Alphonsus was not successful on the stage seems likely when -one compares the play with the successful productions of the day. -Its failure is indicated by the fact that, though a second part was -promised in the epilogue, no such part is known to have been written. -More interesting still, for the light it throws on the fortunes of -this play, and on Greene's relationship with his contemporaries, is -the study of the antagonism that suddenly appears in all of Greene's -allusions to Marlowe. This feeling apparently dates from the beginning -of 1588, or about the time of the probable first performance of -_Alphonsus of Arragon_. It is first marked in the very satirical -allusion to _Tamburlaine_ contained in the address to the gentleman -readers prefixed to _Perimedes_ (1588). In this the author expresses -a purpose to "keep my old course to palter up something in prose -using mine old poesie still _Omne tulit punctum_, although lately two -Gentlemen Poets made two madmen of Rome beat it out of their paper -bucklers, and had it in derision for that I could not make my verses -jet upon the stage in tragical buskins, every word filling the mouth -like the faburden of Bo-Bell, daring God out of heaven with that -Atheist Tamburlaine or blaspheming with the mad priest of the sun." He -ends this passage as follows: "If I speak darkly, gentlemen, and offend -with this digression, I crave pardon, in that I but answer in print -what they have offered on the stage." Just who the two poets and two -madmen of Rome may have been it is now impossible to say. What stands -out clear is that Greene has been attacked on the stage for failing to -make his "verses jet upon the stage in tragical buskins," after the -manner of Marlowe's _Tamburlaine_; and as Marlowe was the atheist, -and not Tamburlaine, it is also clear that Greene has a feeling of -resentment against his brother poet. The explanation that seems most -sensible is that Greene has attempted to write a play in Marlowe's -vein, has failed, and being publicly taunted for his failure, either -by Marlowe himself or by his partisans, expresses his determination to -continue writing in prose, the form of composition that has already -brought him fame. Greene's animosity toward Marlowe continued for -several years. In Nash's address prefixed to Greene's _Menaphon_ -(1589)[8] the same feeling is manifested, possibly at the instigation -of Greene. Here Nash, perhaps to throw contempt on Marlowe as a writer -of plays, vaunts Greene as a writer of romance. _Menaphon_, he holds, -excels the achievements of men who, unable to write romance, "think to -outbrave better pens with the swelling bombast of a bragging blank -verse." The same attack is persistently pushed in the poem, also -prefixed to _Menaphon_, by Thomas Barnaby (signing himself by anagram -Brabine), in the words "the pomp of speech that strives to thunder from -a stage man's throat." Again and again Greene and his friends return to -the attack on Marlowe, now in _Francesco's Fortunes_, in a slighting -reference to the trade of Marlowe's father,[9] now in _Greene's -Vision_, and finally in _A Groatsworth of Wit_, in which, though in -more friendly guise, Greene reproves Marlowe for his atheism.[10] -There can be little doubt that thus was displayed the rancour of -the unsuccessful as against the successful dramatist. The play of -_Alphonsus of Arragon_ is in fact quite unworthy to be placed beside -Marlowe's _Tamburlaine_ in any comparison for literary excellence. -Whether Greene recognised this or not he was undoubtedly influenced in -his later play composition by the failure of his first effort. Without -immediately striking out in any new vein he now proceeds to burlesque -and to parody where first he had imitated. - -About 1585 there was produced Thomas Kyd's _The Spanish Tragedy_, a -tragedy of blood, of madness, and revenge, with many ingredients of the -Senecan plays. This play and Marlowe's _Tamburlaine_ were the chief -sensations of the English stage of the sixteenth century. No single -play of Shakespeare's can be said to have had the instantaneous popular -success and the immediate and widespread imitation given to both of -these plays. In the next play that Greene wrote unaided after the -failure of his _Alphonsus of Arragon_ there is discernible an entire -change in the author's attitude. He is no more originative than he -was before, but he does not again attempt to treat an imitative drama -in the spirit of its original. Certain of the scenes of _Alphonsus -of Arragon_ were ridiculous enough, but they were undertaken in no -apparent spirit of burlesque. In _Orlando Furioso_ Greene proceeds to -parody the two most popular types holding the boards in his day. The -real hero of _Orlando Furioso_ is not the mad French knight, Orlando, -but Sacripant. And Sacripant is a foiled Tamburlaine, a high aspiring -king whose ambition comes to nothingness. In the spirit of Macbeth, -who himself had something of Tamburlaine's lust of conquest, are the -words of Sacripant: "I hold these salutations as ominous; for saluting -me by that which I am not, he presageth what I shall be." And in the -musings of Sacripant there operates the spirit of Tamburlaine. "Sweet -are the thoughts that smother from conceit," he reflects; his chair -presents "a throne of majesty"; his thoughts "dream on a diadem"; he -becomes "co-equal with the gods." The lines beginning "Fair queen of -love," spoken by Orlando (p. 187 of this edition) remind us of the -lofty yearning love of Tamburlaine for Zenocrate. As a play _Orlando -Furioso_ is _Tamburlaine_ by perversions, and purposely so. Its chief -martial spirit strives for high ends by ignoble means. He fails to win -his mistress, and he fails to win his throne; done out of both by a -madman. If this play is a perversion of the _Tamburlaine_ motive, it is -also a burlesque on the tragedy of blood. There are indications that -Greene would have been quite willing to ridicule Kyd. Nash, in the same -preface to _Menaphon_ in which he had ridiculed Marlowe, satirises Kyd -in the famous lines, "blood is a beggar," and "whole Hamlets, I should -say handfuls of tragical speeches." Kyd, as a non-university man, -represented that rising coterie, of which Shakespeare was the master, -against whom the jealous shafts of the university wits were directed. -The signs of the influence of the tragedy of blood type are many. In -the balanced and parallel lines of Senecan character, and found little -elsewhere in Greene: - - "Only by me was lov'd Angelica, - Only for me must live Angelica." - -and - - "'Angelica doth none but Medor love,' - Angelica doth none but Medor love!"; - -in the allusions to Orestes, "Orestes was never so mad in his life -as you were"; in the symbols of a classic Hades, Pluto and Averne; -in the interspersed quotations from Latin and Italian; in the vague -continental setting; in the use of a chorus; in the unheroic revenge -motive; in the burlesque death, and the tearing of limb from limb; in -"Orlando's sudden insanity and the ridiculously inadequate occasion of -it, the headlong _dénouement_, the farcical technique, the mock heroic -atmosphere, the paradoxical absence of pathos, the absurdly felicitous -conclusion,--all seemingly unwitting,"[11] we have either imitated or -burlesqued the characteristics of the popular revenge and blood play. - -That _Orlando Furioso_ was not written after 1591 is clear from a -passage in _A Defence of Conny-catching_ (1592) in which Greene is -charged with selling the play twice, once to the Queen's players for -twenty nobles, and, when these had gone to the provinces, to the -Admiral's men for as many more. As the Queen's players left the court -26th December 1591, the play must have existed before that date. A -reference to the Spanish Armada provides 30th July 1588 as a posterior -limit. No valid conclusions can be drawn from certain resemblances -between lines in this play and lines in Peele's _Old Wives' Tale_,[12] -on account of uncertainty as to the date of the latter play. There -seems no reason to doubt that Gayley is right in pointing out 26th -December 1588 as the date of the first performance of the play before -the Queen at court. - -About the time that Greene's _Orlando Furioso_ appeared there was -presented, perhaps at the same play-house, the Theatre, Marlowe's -play, _Dr Faustus_. In this play Marlowe treated with characteristic -intensity the tragical story of a magician who aspired for wisdom as -_Tamburlaine_ had aspired for power. Magic and witchcraft were popular -in English literature. The story of _Dr Faustus_ was issued in German -in 1587, and an English translation was probably made about the same -time. The prose narrative of _The Famous History of Friar Bacon_ must -also have been well known. Magic and incantation had already been used -by Greene in the Brazen Head of _Alphonsus of Arragon_, in Melissa of -_Orlando Furioso_, and in the priests of Rasni in _A Looking-Glass for -London and England_. But that Marlowe was the first to see a large -dramatic motive in the conventional magic is certain. Here again we -must accept it that Marlowe was the leader and Greene the adapter. We -must agree with Collins that "the presumption in favour of _Faustus_ -having preceded Greene's play is so overwhelmingly strong that we -cannot suppose that Marlowe borrowed from Greene." But Greene's _Friar -Bacon and Friar Bungay_ is by no means an imitation of _Dr Faustus_, -nor is it a mere parody. Through his new mastery of technique Greene -was deriving a method of his own that was to make him an effective -and independent story-teller. Also there was developing in his art a -refinement and sanity that revolted from the broadly-drawn conceits -and exaggerated passion of Marlowe's early style. There is something -suggestively ironical in the opposition of the titles of the two -plays, the _honourable_ history of _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_, as -compared with the _tragical_ history of _Dr Faustus_. So also there -must be some delicate satire in the comic summoning of Burden and the -Hostess as opposed to the impressive evocation of Alexander and Helen. -And one of the chief episodes in the play may have a jocose oblique -reference to _Dr Faustus_. "It is hardly too great an assumption," -says Ward, "to regard Bacon's victory over Vandermast as a cheery -outdoing by genuine English magic of the pretentious German article," -represented in the play of _Dr Faustus_. In _Friar Bacon and Friar -Bungay_ we have the first extant expression of Greene's independent -genius working along characteristic lines. Though Marlowe provides him -his starting-point, the treatment is Greene's alone. While lacking -in originativeness this play reveals that clearly-marked individual -attitude toward art and the people of his brain that was to give -Greene's plays a pronounced influence in the development of domestic -comedy. And, according to Henslowe's records, the play was as great a -success as _Dr Faustus_ had been. - -It seems likely that _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_ appeared the year -following the production of _Dr Faustus_ in 1588. The year 1589 is -also indicated by other evidence. In theme the play resembles Greene's -_Tully's Love_ of that year. In verse it is not unlike _Orlando -Furioso_, which had appeared in 1588. A striking piece of collateral -evidence is adduced by Fleay, who, noting Edward's remark in Act I., -"Lacy, thou know'st next Friday is Saint James'," is able to show -that 1589 is the only year between 1578 and 1595 in which St James's -day falls on Friday. Further confirmation of this date arises from a -satirical thrust by Greene at the now unknown author of _Fair Em, the -Miller's Daughter of Manchester_, in his letter prefixed to _Farewell -to Folly. Fair Em_ bears about the same relationship to _Friar Bacon -and Friar Bungay_ that this play bears to _Dr Faustus_. In other -words, while it is not exactly an imitation, it is in many respects a -reflection and a parody of the earlier play. The chief points in which -_Fair Em_ parodies Greene's play are in the title, in which the author, -"somewhat affecting the letter," plays upon Greene's "Fair Maid of -Fressingfield"; in the relationship of a king with his courtier in the -courtship of a mistress, in Lubeck's fidelity to William the Conqueror -in the matter of his love for Mariana contrasted with Lacy's treachery -to Edward in courting Margaret; in Em's scornful refusal to return to -Mandeville after he has discarded her contrasted with Margaret's hasty -forgiveness of Lacy after his unkind desertion; and in the fact that, -while in _Friar Bacon_ Lacy is put into disguise to pursue his love -suits, in _Fair Em_ it is the king who masquerades to gain a mistress. -Greene no more relished the imitation of his work in 1591 than he did -the following year, when he wrote _A Groatsworth of Wit_. His allusion -to this play in his _Farewell to Folly_ epistle is identified by his -quoting two lines that occur toward the end of the play, "A man's -conscience is a thousand witnesses," and "Love covereth the multitude -of sins." Upon such sentiments in the drama Greene throws ridicule in -the following words: "O, 'tis a jolly matter when a man hath a familiar -style and can indite a whole year and never be beholding to art! But -to bring Scripture to prove anything he says, and kill it dead with -the text in a trifling subject of love, I tell you is no small piece -of cunning." The most important point in these lines is the indication -that a year had been spent in the composition of the play Greene was -ridiculing. If we are to accept it that _Fair Em_ is in any respect an -imitation of _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_ we must count at least a -year before the production of _Fair Em_ to find the date of Greene's -play. Accepting early 1591 as the point after which _Fair Em_ could -not have been written,[13] _Friar Bacon_ must have been produced at -least a year before that time, in 1589, or early in 1590. Supposing, -on account of the beautiful eulogy to Elizabeth at the close of the -play, that it must have been intended for presentation at court, Gayley -suggests St Stephen's day, 26th December 1589, as the probable date of -the play's production. - -There is an element in the play of _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_ -which, viewed in the light of the dramatic influences of the times, -reveals again Greene's quickness of apprehension of a significant new -strain in the drama. It is the introduction of Prince Edward, the King -of England, and the Emperor of Germany, into the fabric of his plot. -This play must precede Marlowe's _Edward II._ by several months, and -at this point we are able finally to dissociate Greene's genius from -the direct influence of his great contemporary. In order to develop -this point it may be well to glance hastily at the history of the -chronicle type of play in England to the time of Greene's _James IV._ -Plays on subjects drawn from English history had been more or less -common since the production of _Gorboduc_ in 1562. Three Latin plays, -_Byrsa Basilica_ and the two college plays by Thomas Legge, _Richardus -Tertius_, had come somewhat near to the true chronicle type. But it -was not until the latter years of the ninth decade of the century -that dramatists began on any large scale to utilise the history and -mythology of England's kings and wars for the celebrating of her -contemporary glories. Even before the Spanish Armada England had become -conscious of her own power and eager for the display of her prowess. It -was under the stimulus of this growing consciousness of might that the -first true chronicle play, _The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth_, -was written. In this play a dramatist for the first time displays an -adequate sense of the objective value of the materials derived from -history, combined with that insight into human nature and largeness -of imaginative power that are necessary to make of the dry records of -Holinshed and Stow a moving dramatic story. _The Life and Death of -Jack Straw_, which also probably preceded the Armada in its first -production, is, while not so good as _The Famous Victories_, a play of -vigorous characterisation and native English colouring of historical -events. But we are probably not far from the truth in supposing that -it was the year 1588 that brought the complete development of the -chronicle type. From this year dates the production of the two parts -of _The Troublesome Reign of King John of England_, the date being -indicated by the allusion to _Tamburlaine_ in the prologue. _The -First Part of the Contention betwixt two Famous Houses of York and -Lancaster_, etc., and _The True Tragedy of Richard, Duke of York_, -etc., upon which are based the second and third parts of Shakespeare's -_Henry VI._ trilogy, must be dated little, if any, later. _The -Troublesome Reign_ is known to have been performed by the Queen's men -after the other university men had left Greene alone as representative -of this company. The theory that connects Greene's name with the -composition is, however, so much a matter of conjecture that nothing -can be gained from its consideration. Following these two works, almost -certainly not preceding them, as some have thought, comes Marlowe's -_Edward II._, the faultless masterpiece of his dramatic composition, -produced probably in 1590. And within a few years, in quick succession, -there came _Edward III., Richard II._, and _Richard III._, the _Henry -VI._ trilogy, and the culminating trilogy of the two parts of _Henry -IV._ and _Henry V._ - -Greene's _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_, which appeared in the midst -of a movement toward the chronicle type of play, so far adopted its -formulas as to introduce historic English characters into the fabric of -a story based on prose romance. No feature whatever of the chronicle -element as introduced into the play is found in the source-book, nor is -there any historical warrant for any of the action presented under the -names of the kings. Greene's later attitude toward the rapidly-growing -chronicle type of play reveals the motives and characteristics of his -art at its maturity. He is still willing to borrow from the dominant -types of art holding the stage at the time such expedients as shall -serve to adjust his work to the popular demand. But he no longer -transcends his own powers in an attempt at imitation, or does violence -to his own principles of beauty in a parody of the work of a rival. His -note is now a clear and individual one, and to the day of his death it -sounds upon a definite key. Greene's powers were no more equal to the -blowing into pulsing life of the dead bones of the chronicles of Stow -and Holinshed than they were efficient to answer in verse to the lure -of "impossible things" after the manner of Marlowe. Greene may have -expressed himself in a chronicle play as did Marlowe in _Edward II._, -and as did others of his time, but the simple fact is that no chronicle -play of unmixed type can with certainty be assigned to him, and until a -light is thrown that modifies somewhat the view here outlined we must -regard his part in the composition of _The Troublesome Reign_ and _The -True Tragedy_ as distinctly a subordinate one. These considerations are -of some importance in considering _James IV._ and _George-a-Greene_. -Assuming that _George-a-Greene_ is Greene's work, it is clear that here -he but modified the chronicle play type to his own purposes, and that -he based his story, not on historical narrative, but on the legends -of the people as retained in ballad and prose romance. Nor is _James -IV._ based on historical records. Going back to the source from which -he drew his early stories, he rests his plot on the first novel of the -third decade of Giraldi Cinthio's _Hecatommithi_. The play's sole claim -to be counted in the chronicle group is based on the fact that certain -of the imaginary characters of Cinthio's fiction are provided with the -names of members of the English ruling family. The events of the story -have no connection with history, and Greene's title, _The Scottish -History of James the Fourth, slain at Flodden_, is but an ingenious -device to reach with a romantic and misleading title the interest of -an audience now newly turned toward historical topics. - -No evidence whatever can be adduced to show that Greene was in any -respect indebted to Marlowe's _Edward II._ for his pseudo-chronicle on -_James IV._ Present information makes it seem probable that the plays -were performed about the same time, Marlowe's play being, perhaps, a -few months the earlier. The plays are quite different. Each dramatist -had attained to the maturity of his powers through the purification -of his artistic ideals, but whereas Marlowe's last play is held to -the outlines of a rigorous art with an almost poignant reticence, -Greene's _James IV._ manifests the sweetening and mellowing touch of -a dignified and manly philosophy. Nor can we see any indebtedness -in Greene's play to Peele's _Edward I._, though the cruel abuse of -the memory of Queen Elinor contained in that play can get its only -justification on the theory that the play was written immediately -after the Spanish Armada, and therefore two years before _James IV._ -But there is one chronicle play that Greene may have seen and that -may have influenced him slightly. It is not possible here to go into -the question of the authorship of _Edward III._ So excellent is the -play in its choicest passages that one would not be loath to assign -portions of it to Marlowe, or to Shakespeare, or to impute the entire -play to the collaboration of these poets. One would even welcome -evidence that the hand of Greene is to be seen in the play. Fleay -assigns the play to Marlowe and sets its date of production at 1590 -or earlier, basing these suppositions upon a citation from this play -in a presumably satirical allusion to Marlowe in Greene's _Never too -Late_; perhaps a strained double hypothesis, but one that has the -possibility of truth.[14] One would tend to the theory that the play -was written by Marlowe, on account of the total absence of comedy and -a dulcet sweetness in the blank verse. If so it was an early study and -must be placed before _Edward II. Edward III._ is like _James IV._ in -the fact that it is not a pure chronicle play, but is based for its -most effective scenes upon a romantic episode from Painter's _Palace -of Pleasure._ As _James IV._ goes back to a novella of Cinthio, the -ultimate source of the romantic by-plot of _Edward III._ is a novel by -Bandello. The historical portions of the play are based on Holinshed. -These romantic scenes, which comprise scene 2 of the first act and the -entirety of the second act, are strikingly similar to the large theme -of _James IV._ The love of King Edward for the beautiful Countess of -Salisbury, whose castle he has rescued, is similar in its passion and -its ill-success to the love of James for Ida. Both stories deal with -Scottish wars, though in _Edward III._ the romantic element arises as -a result of the English king's protection of his subject, the Countess -of Salisbury, against the Scots, whereas in _James IV._ the wars result -from the unfortunate love of the Scottish king for his subject, Ida, -and his consequent attempt to kill his English wife, Dorothea. Like -James, Edward is willing to kill his queen in order to gain his love. -The Countess of Salisbury's lines, - - "As easy may my intellectual soul - Be lent away, and yet my body live, - As lend my body, palace to my soul, - Away from her, and yet retain my soul," - -have something of Ida's incorruptible purity of principle when she asks -Ateukin "can his warrant keep my soul from hell?" Ida's scorn of the -man who would - - "be a king of men and worldly pelf - Yet hath no power to rule and guide himself," - -is like King Edward's-- - - "Shall the large limit of fair Britanny - By me be overthrown, and shall I not - Master this little mansion of myself? - Give me an armour of eternal steel! - I go to conquer kings; and shall I not then - Subdue myself?"[15] - -In no pre-Shakespearean drama outside of Greene's own work is the -simple beauty of chaste womanhood presented with the passion and -sympathy that are to be found in _Edward III._ Certainly Ida of -_James IV._, the Countess of Salisbury of _Edward III._, and Imogen -of Shakespeare's _Cymbeline_ are a trio of womanly beauty and purity. -In respect of poetry, the Countess of Salisbury scenes of _Edward -III._, in spite of their somewhat cloying sweetness, transcend any -sustained passages in Greene's works. Yet the poetry of _James IV._ -is of the same order. If Greene could but have prolonged his vagrant -notes of beauty he would have equalled the best in this play. In -respect of dramaturgy and human psychology _James IV._ is far in -advance of _Edward III._ The simple and undeveloped story of love is -in the hands of the more skilled plotter of plays complicated to a fit -representation of the social implications of an act, and the passion -of Edward is in James developed to the awful inward struggle of a -sinning soul. In the absence of facts as to the authorship of _Edward -III._, and as to the date of its composition, it is impossible to draw -any conclusions as to influence or inter-relationship. It is clear, -however, that Greene's play is written in the spirit of _Edward III._, -in that it is an adaptation of the romantic motive that Greene knew so -well how to compass to the purposes of the popular chronicle play. - -_James IV._, which is the last undoubted play of Greene's composition, -is also the best. Dramatically it is far in advance of any other of -his plays, and there is almost no trace of the affected classical -and mythological allusion that had marked his earlier writing. -Considerations of style and structure indicate that it was written soon -after _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_. Allusions to contemporary events, -such as Dorothea's mention of the Irish uprisings, the idea of a union -of England and Scotland, that run through the play, and the brave words -spoken by Dorothea, who is not herself a maid, as a delicate compliment -to Elizabeth in her French wars, - - "Shall never Frenchman say an English maid - Of threats of foreign force will be afraid," - -indicate that the play was produced about 1590. Gayley suggests that -it was presented by Greene's company at court on 26th December 1590, -or as one of their five performances in 1591. A pretty point is also -made by the same scholar based upon a resemblance between lines in this -play and certain lines of Peele's. Though the matter is too confused to -serve well as chronological data it seems worthy of review if only for -the reason that slightly different results may be reached than those -indicated by Gayley. In the first scene of the first act of _James IV._ -Ida has the following lines: - - "And weel I wot, I heard a shepherd sing, - That, like a bee, love hath a little sting." - -Comparing this with lines in the fragment of Peele's _The Hunting of -Cupid_, preserved in a manuscript volume of extracts by Drummond of -Hawthornden, the conclusion is reached that it is Peele, the writer of -pastoral, to whom Greene refers as "shepherd," and that Greene's lines -are a direct transcription from Peele. Referring to the Stationers' -Registers we learn that Peele's _The Hunting of Cupid_ was listed for -26th July 1591, certainly later than we should be willing to place the -beginning of composition on Greene's _James IV._ The formal proviso, -"That if it be hurtful to any other copy before licensed ... this to be -void," may or may not indicate the existence of an earlier copy. That -the general motive was in the air and had caught the ear of Greene is -clear from the snatches and fragments of it we find in his late work. -In the _Mourning Garment,_ registered 1590, are lines moving upon the -same rhyme and answering the same interrogation as Peele's verses: - - "Ah, what is love? It is a pretty thing. - As sweet unto a shepherd as a king."[16] - -One who gets this haunting strain in mind cannot fail to notice how -frequently Greene uses the rhyme of _thing, bring, king,_ and _sting_ -in _James IV._ Once it is: - - "Although a bee be but a little thing, - You know, fair queen, it hath a bitter sting." - -And in the first scene of the second act Greene plays upon the -repetition of this rhyme. Peele himself again uses the refrain in -_Decensus Astræ_, licensed October 1591. The argument from the fact -that "weel I wot" in Ida's line seems to reflect the same clause in -_The Hunting of Cupid_ would be stronger were it not that "weel I wot" -occurs only in the Drummond manuscript and is not found in the fragment -quoted by Dyce[17] from the Rawlinson manuscript. Here instead of "weel -I wot" is found "for sure." As Greene himself has used the refrain in -a song sung by a shepherd's wife it leaves room to doubt that either -the swains of _The Hunting_ or Peele himself was the shepherd. It -is clear that the first general use of the motive had occurred in -Greene's _Mourning Garment_. The positive objections to placing _James -IV._ subsequent to July 1591 lead one to one of three conclusions: -(1) Peele's lyric had long been written before it was entered in the -_Stationers' Registers_, and in manuscript form inspired the strains -in the _Mourning Garment_ and _James IV._; (2) Greene himself provides -the prototype of Peele's lyric in his _Mourning Garment_ verse and -its cognate form in _James IV._; (3) or, as seems most probable, -fragmentary strains that have been found are reminiscences of a popular -song that has not yet been traced. - -We have, a little arbitrarily perhaps, grouped the four indubitable -plays of Greene's unassisted composition in order to formulate the -developing characteristics of his dramatic genius. Yet there are other -plays that raise problems no less interesting than those we have -considered, and that might, were we able unquestioningly to assign -them to Greene, go far to clarify the obscure places in his biography -and his art. That Greene had a part in _A Looking-Glass for London and -England_ there is, of course, no doubt, but we are not yet able to say -how much of the play is his composition, and the question of its date -provides some difficulties. We incline to the view that it was an early -play. Lodge was absent from England in 1588 on a voyage with Captain -Clark to the Islands of Terceras and the Canaries. In August 1591 he -sailed from Plymouth with Cavendish and did not return until 1593, -after Greene's death. _A Looking-Glass_ was then either written before -1588 or between 1589 and 1591. Collins, arguing from passages in the -play remotely paralleled by biblical allusions in _Greene's Vision_ -and the _Mourning Garment_, decides that it was produced in 1590. This -conclusion cannot be accepted because, as Collins himself admits, -references to Nineveh and Jonas are frequent in the literature of the -time. Of the three reasons given by Collins for supposing that the play -was not written before 1588 one is based on the slender hypothesis -that as it is not proved that Greene wrote plays before 1590 this one -could not have been earlier; and another is based on a gratuitous -assumption that this play is that comedy "lastly writ" with "Young -Juvenal" and mentioned in _A Groatsworth of Wit._[18] The argument that -the realistic passage beginning "The fair Triones with their glimmering -light" could only have been written after Lodge's first maritime -experience carries more weight, but cannot stand long as against -counter evidence of any force whatever. Nor do we see any strength in -the theory that this play is a product of Greene's era of repentance. -As has been shown, Greene uses repentance as a didactic motive -from the first. Considering this as a moralising play one may with -better force place it in the earlier years of less complex dramatic -inspiration. It is difficult to conceive that in 1589, when Greene was -almost certainly engaged in writing _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_, he -should have been willing to go back to the motive of the interludes. -As the spirit of the play is earlier than Greene's mature work, so -its associations are with the earlier rather than with the later work -of Lodge. _An Alarum against Usurers_, the influence of which is -often apparent, was published in 1584. In the years from 1589 to 1591 -inclusive Lodge was engaged on another type of work, represented by -_Scillæ's Metamorphosis, Rosalynde, The History of Robert, second Duke -of Normandy_, and _Catharos_, certainly as far removed as possible from -the moralising vein of _A Looking-Glass_. Two published expressions -by Lodge lean rather to the earlier than the later date. In _Scillæ's -Metamorphosis_ (1589) Lodge vows, - - "To write no more of that whence shame doth grow, - [Nor] tie my pen to penny-knaves delight." - -Certainly we cannot believe that Lodge was abjuring playwriting at -the very moment that he was preparing _A Looking-Glass_. The other -passage occurs in Lodge's _Wits Misery_ (1596), in which Lodge says it -is odious "in stage plays to make use of historical scripture." This -passage should be viewed in connection with a passage in the epistle -prefixed to Greene's _Farewell to Folly_ (1591), taunting the author -of _Fair Em_ for "blasphemous rhetoric," and for borrowing from the -scripture. Whatever may be the claims of consistency we must suppose -that the argument from good policy would tend to the conclusion that -the scriptural drama of Greene and Lodge was written as long as -possible before these uncompromising words. Setting narrow limits, we -should say that _A Looking-Glass_ was produced between the date of -the production of _Tamburlaine_ and of the destruction of the Spanish -Armada. In the deification of Rasni, "god on earth, and none but he," -there are traces of an aspiring kingliness, and the lament of Rasni -over Remilia, his queen, has the yearning note sounded in Tamburlaine's -grief over the dying Zenocrate. That the play was not written during -the intense excitement incident to the Armada would seem probable on -general principles, for there is no hint either of imminent national -danger or of the intoxication of success. The undoubted reflections -of _The Spanish Tragedy_ in this play can serve only to place it in -near conjunction with _Orlando Furioso_ as an early play. Whether it -preceded or followed that play it is impossible now to decide.[19] -As to Greene's share in the work it is impossible to speak with even -the semblance of authority. The comic portions sound like Greene's -work,[20] and if Greene wrote Act v. scene 4 of _James IV._ he was -quite capable of writing the moralising part. In simplicity of -construction the play is quite unlike Greene's other dramatic works, -just as it is much better than Lodge's _The Wounds of Civil War_. -Arguing from the position of their names on the title-page, one is -tempted to believe that the play was planned and drafted by Lodge, and -put forth by Greene somewhat after the manner used in his edition of -his friend's _Euphues Shadow_ (1592). - -The anonymous authorship of _George-a-Greene, Locrine_ and _Selimus_ -provides problems that must continue to vex critics for some time to -come. None of them is assigned to Greene on absolute evidence of any -weight, yet strong support has been given to the theory of Greene's -authorship of each of them. In the case of the first so respectable has -been the following that no editor would care definitely to exclude the -play from his list. Yet the best evidence is questionable, and much of -the evidence is quite adverse to the theory of Greene's authorship. -The manuscript notes on a copy of the Quarto of 1599, assigning -the play to a minister who had played the pinner's part himself, -and in another hand to Robert Greene (quoted on p. xxiii.), cannot -to-day be considered good evidence. Judged by the well-known tests -of textual and structural criticism the play almost absolutely fails -to connect itself either with Greene or his contemporary university -writers. Few plays of the late eighties are so isolated from the -clearly-marked characteristics of the drama of the time. Of _Euphues_, -of _Tamburlaine_, of _The Spanish Tragedy_, of Seneca, of the religious -play, there are few, if any, traces. The rhetorical structure shows -none of the artificial balances and climaxes so common at the time; -there is neither ghost, chorus, dumb show nor messenger; there is no -high aspiring figure, no madness, no revenge; and the bloodshed is -decent. The lyrics are English and not Italian. Indeed so far is it -from the classical style that it seems difficult to believe that a -university man wrote the play. The rich mythology of the university -wits is entirely wanting. Such classical allusions as are to be found -are the stock figures of a layman's vocabulary, Leda, Helena, Venus and -Hercules, the rudimentary mythology of the age. The play lies nearer to -the ground in an absolute realism of the soil than any known in this -group. The milk cans of _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_ may be pure -pastoral; the country setting of _George-a-Greene_ is pure rustic, and -is not helped at all by literature. So also the play lacks many of -Greene's characteristic notes. It was performed at the Rose by Sussex' -men, while so far as is known Greene remained faithful to the Queen's -company throughout his life. It lacks that satirical under-current, -that ironic veiled counter cuff at his rivals, that personal innuendo -in the midst of a good story that is so characteristic of Greene. - -But in spite of the facts that are brought to his judgment the -beauties of the play are such as to compel every editor to soften -judgment by inclination and include the play among Greene's dramas. -Certainly Greene is the only university man of his day who, knowing -the affectations of literature, at the same time knew real life in the -concrete well enough to write _George-a-Greene_. If truth were told -it was through plays of the type of _George-a-Greene_, rather than -through the more ambitious university men's plays, that the current of -pure English comedy was to flow. And it is because _George-a-Greene_ -integrates itself so perfectly with the development of Greene's -dramatic genius, and represents so well that realism reached by a -settling down of art from above, rather than arising from the vulgar -fact, that we are willing to say that if Greene did not write this -play he could have written one much like it. _George-a-Greene_ seems -to bring to consummation the developing principles of Greene's art. As -in the case of _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_ there is in this play -a quite unhistorical chronicle element concerning English kings. But -unlike _James IV._, which is derived from an Italian original, this -play tells an English story based on the native Robin Hood strain. -Again, like _Friar Bacon_, the original story, which contains no -romantic element, is augmented by a love story. If the play is Greene's -it may represent the last and purest expression of his charming -doctrine of beauty and his simple philosophy of content. To Greene -beauty lay in fresh and joyous colours and in uncomplex forms. And his -philosophy of repose is evolved out of the sublimation of the emotional -riot of his early life. Again and again these notes are struck in -_George-a-Greene_. Now it is the well-known strain: - - "The sweet content of men that live in love - Breeds fretting humours in a restless mind." - -Again it is contentment put into better precept: - - "a poor man that is true - Is better than an earl, if he be false;" - -and - - "'tis more credit to men of base degree, - To do great deeds, than men of dignity." - -George's words, "Tell me, sweet love, how is thy mind content," "Happy -am I to have so sweet a love," and "I have a lovely leman, as bright -of blee as is the silver moon," sound like Greene's style matured -and softened by experience. Yet that the play is Greene's one would -not dare to say. Its present form displays either hasty composition -or garbled version, or both, for it is neither consistent nor well -integrated. In one breath Cuddy has never seen George, and in the -next delivers to King Edward a message which "at their parting George -did say to me." The episodes of Jane-a-Barley, Cuddy and Musgrove, -George-a-Greene and the horses in the corn, the shoemakers and the -"Vail Staff" custom, Robin Hood and his followers, are but fragments -thinly and crudely knit together. Perhaps this play is a unique -exemplar of a class of hurriedly-sketched popular plays written by -Greene for the provinces and printed from a mutilated stage copy.[21] - -_The Lamentable Tragedy of Locrine_ has been ascribed to Shakespeare, -Marlowe, Peele and Greene. The two former ascriptions are clearly -uncritical, and the two latter present many difficulties. According -to Symonds, "The best passages of the play ... are very much in -the manner of Greene." In this opinion joins Brooke, the editor of -_The Shakespeare Apocrypha_. With certain portions of the argument -associating _Locrine_ with Greene we are in harmony. The play was -issued by that Thomas Creede who had published Greene's _Alphonsus of -Arragon, A Looking-Glass_, and _James IV._ In flashes of poetry, in -classical allusion, in high-sounding phrases, the play is sometimes -astoundingly in the temper of _Orlando Furioso_ and _Alphonsus of -Arragon_. We care little for the evidence that is deduced from -literal parallels. More often than not these were purposed copyings -or imitations, or involuntary reminiscences of lingering refrains. -But there is such a thing as an author's peculiar verbal coin, which -is stamped with his sign, and can be paid out by him alone. One -who knows his author well cannot but be struck with the frequent -occurrence of Greene's own turn of phrase, a style that is clearly to -be distinguished from the style of any other poet of his time. Brutus' -salutation to his followers at the beginning of the play is much after -the manner of Marsilius' welcome to the princes who were come to woo -Angelica. Trumpart's imprecations by "sticks and stones," "brickbats -and bones," "briars and brambles," "cook shops and shambles," remind -one of Orlando's equally ludicrous "Woods, trees, leaves; leaves, -trees, woods." The lyrical clownery of Strumbo is often strikingly -like that of Miles in _Friar Bacon_. The senile revenge motive of -Corineus resembles that of Carinus in _Orlando Furioso_. The use of -the capital founded by Brutus, Troynovant, is repeated in _Never too -Late_.[22] So also Guendoline's pleas for the life of her faithless -husband--"his death will more augment my woes"--are quite in the spirit -of Dorothea's pity for her sinning husband in _James IV._ Strumbo's use -of his plackets to hide food in while Humber is starving resembles in -comic intent Adam's same expedient in starving Nineveh. Certain verse -propositions seem to ring with Greene's own timbre: - - "The poorest state is farthest from annoy" (ii. 2, 37).[23] - - "After we passed the groves of Caledone. - Where murmuring rivers slide with silent streams, - We did behold the straggling Scythians camp," etc. (ii. 3, 23). - - "Why this, my lord, experience teaches us: - That resolution is a sole help at need" (iii. 2, 61). - - "Oh, that sweet face painted with nature's dye, - Those roseall cheeks mixt with a snowy white, - That decent neck surpassing ivory" (iv. 1, 91). - - "_Loc._ Better to live, than not to live at all. - _Estrild._ Better to die renowned for chastity - Than live with shame and endless infamy." (iv. 1, 133)[24] - -Other minor phrases that are even more characteristic of Greene's note -are, "daughters of proud Lebanon," "Aurora, handmaid of the sun," -"party coloured flowers," "shady groves" (often repeated), "girt with a -corselet of bright shining steel," "rascal runnagates," "overlook with -haughty front," "injurious fortune," and "injurious traitor," "watery" -(frequently repeated even where unnecessary), "silver streams" (often -repeated), "sweet savours," "regiment," "argent streams," "university -of bridewell" (to be compared with Miles' jests), "uncouth rock," -"Puryflegiton" (often used; Greene uses Phlegethon), "Anthropophagie," -"countercheck," "triple world," "beauty's paragon," "those her so -pleasing looks," "straggling" (as an adjective expressing contempt; -often used, and quite characteristic of Greene). - -The considerations outlined are sufficient to incline one favourably -toward the theory of Greene's authorship of _Locrine_. Yet the -difficulties are such as for the present to deny the play a place among -Greene's works. The date is in great doubt. The first edition of 1595 -"newly set forth, overseen and corrected by W. S.," is evidently a -revamped version. We cannot agree with Brooke that the play appeared -before _Tamburlaine_, for, among many strains of the dramas of _The -Misfortunes of Arthur_ type there are mingled undoubted influences from -the revenge plays and _Tamburlaine_. It is difficult to adjust the -play to any scheme of activities that has been worked out for Greene. -Certainly it did not ante-date _Alphonsus of Arragon_, for there is -every reason to take the prologue of that play at its word. Upon the -hypothesis that it is Greene's work we should place it just before -_Orlando Furioso_, the play which it resembles above all others, and -about the same time as _A Looking-Glass for London and England_, which -in respect of comedy it greatly resembles. - -It is impossible to view with any favour the theory of Greene's -authorship of _Selimus_. In every respect the play is divergent from -Greene's characteristic tone and method. Grosart's theory that this -play may be supposed to take the place of the promised second part of -_Alphonsus of Arragon_ has no weight. Like the latter play _Selimus_ -is the first part of a work that had been planned in series, and in -no respect does it supplement Greene's first play. Like _Alphonsus of -Arragon_ the play is constructed with such slavish fidelity to the -_Tamburlaine_ principles that it is difficult to think Greene could -have written _Selimus_ after the failure of _Alphonsus_. Constructively -the play is unlike Greene's work. The declamation is more sustained -and the action is less crowded than in Greene's other plays. The many -parallel passages quoted by Grosart prove nothing more than that -borrowing was the order of the age. Nor is anything proved by the fact -that the same clown comedy is introduced into _Locrine_, _Selimus_ and -_A Looking-Glass for London and England_. If _Locrine_ is Greene's work -it was probably written about the time that he was collaborating with -Lodge, and he may have introduced the same comedy into both plays. It -is no more of an assumption that the author of _Selimus_ borrowed his -comedy from _Locrine_ than that Greene would use the same tricks three -times within two years. The blank verse of _Selimus_, built largely on -a system of rhymed stanzas, is very far from that of _Locrine_ and of -Greene's undoubted plays. To illustrate this no better passages could -be chosen than those produced by Collins to evidence the similarity -of the verse of the two plays. The vexed problem of the part taken by -Greene in the _Henry VI._ plays can be treated now only as a subject -for interesting but comparatively fruitless speculation. So also must -be considered the ingenious and almost convincing circumstantial -argument that _A Knack to Know a Knave_ is the comedy "lastly writ" by -Greene and "Young Juvenal," and mentioned in _A Groatsworth of Wit_.[25] - -We said in beginning that Greene is clearly typical of his time. And -indeed his plays are complexes of the dominant dramatic types of the -years just before Shakespeare. In his work are focused the strains -leading from the three most clearly marked dramatic movements of the -age. The English morality combines with rustic low life to produce the -interlude, which continues its course of didacticism and horse-play -until the end of the century. The Senecan drama scatters ghosts and -horrors through English plays until it is etherealised in the poetry -of _Tamburlaine_, and laughed to death in the parodies of _The Spanish -Tragedy_. The English chronicle play gives life to the dry bones of -history, and celebrates the solidarity of an England united over the -face of the globe, and through all the eras of her splendid history. Of -all these elements the one that remains in Greene's work from beginning -to end is the didactic strain. _A Looking-Glass for London and England_ -is the last full flowering of English religious drama. Yet didactic -elements appear in Friar Bacon's strangely unmotivated repentance, -and in the interpolated scene of a lawyer, a merchant and a divine in -_James IV._ In Greene's dramas many of the types and figures from a -bygone stage are mingled with the newer creations of his invention. -The vices of the interludes spring up incongruously in the midst of -the characters of a later drama. In _Friar Bacon_ the Vice is again -carried off to hell on the back of the Devil, just as had been done -years before in simpler plays; and in the same play, by the use of the -expedient of perspective glasses, two actions are represented as taking -place in widely separate localities, after the manner of the early -masques. And aside from these persisting formulas from an older drama -there are influences and obligations in relation with Lyly and Marlowe -and Kyd that are literally too numerous for enumeration. As significant -as any service Greene performed for English drama is the assimilation -to a single dramatic end of the adverse expedients of a heterogeneous -dramaturgy. - -Technically Greene's contribution to the stage was most significant. -Nash called him master above all others in "plotting of plays." Part of -this mastery comes from his recognition of the technical requirement of -continuous action on the stage. Better than any of his contemporaries, -not excluding Kyd, he knew that action is of equal importance with -speech in the exposition of a dramatic story. Wherever possible he -visualises before his audience the successive stages in the progress -of his plot, not by the use of ghosts and chorus, who serve merely -a narrative purpose, but by bringing before his readers palpable -expedients illustrative of the theme of the action. The use of the -Brazen Head in _Alphonsus of Arragon_; the incantations of Melissa in -_Orlando Furioso_; the raising of the arbor, and the death of Remilia -under the incantations of the Magi in _A Looking-Glass for London and -England_; the use of a visible magic to transport Burden and Helen, to -raise Hercules and the tree, and to present the downfall of the Brazen -Head in _Friar Bacon_, all reveal an ability to adapt the properties -and expedients of the stage of the time to the purposes of the plot. -This is further exemplified in the facility with which from the -beginning Greene utilises such spectacular expedients as the letting -down of the throne of Venus from above in _Alphonsus of Arragon_, and -the descent of the throne of Oseas the prophet in _A Looking-Glass_. -Not only does he use the palpable tricks of stagecraft, but he adapts -these to the purposes of his dramatic exposition. The perspective -glass in _Friar Bacon_ which serves to present two scenes at the same -time serves also to connect two strains of the plot and to further the -action by arousing Prince Edward's suspicion of the fidelity of Lacy. -So magic, which in _Dr Faustus_ serves only to raise a spectacle, in -this play is used as a plot expedient to delay the marriage of Margaret -and Lacy. The stage directions are more full and circumstantial in -Greene's plays than in those of either Marlowe or Peele, and reveal the -same tendency to heighten the effect of plot by action and display. - -Greene's dramas present a steady development in effectiveness of plot -involution. The first plays are marked by a large amount of action and -a great number of narrative fragments very crudely and inorganically -clustered around the central character. _Alphonsus of Arragon_ is -Greene's poorest work in this as in every other respect. Its first -act is marked by hesitation and indirection; accident, coincidence -and inconsistency are the rule throughout. The play is practically -divided into two parts, in the first of which Alphonsus is the central -figure, while Amurack serves as protagonist in the second. _Orlando -Furioso_ is structurally an improvement on its predecessor, and in _A -Looking-Glass for London and England_ an excellent unity of action has -been attained. It is in _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_ that Greene -effected the most substantial advance in play technique made before -Shakespeare. This is nothing less than the weaving of two distinct -plots into the unity of a single dramatic narrative. On account of the -crowding of the action and the sensations, the play is unbalanced and -unorganised. _Friar Bacon's_ activities are divided into two distinct -parts, his victory over Vandermast and his loss of the Brazen Head, and -they are scattered through a half-dozen episodes. For perfect balance -Prince Edward surrenders Margaret too early in the play and thus makes -necessary the introduction of further retarding action based upon an -unexplainable whim of Lacy. Yet granting the inchoate character of the -play we must admit that in effecting the combination of the story of -Friar Bacon with the story of Prince Edward, Lacy and the Fair Maid of -Fressingfield, Greene accomplished an unusually significant innovation. -In _James IV._ Greene's technique is at its best. Even in the faulty -version that comes down to us we see traces of Greene's experimenting -temper. In dumb shows he is reinstating a popular feature of older -plays. His induction serves as a model for Shakespeare's _Taming of -the Shrew_; and one of its characters, Oberon, is a rough draft for -the fairy of that name in _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, as Bohan is a -prototype of Jaques in _As You Like It_. But Greene's induction is -better integrated with his play than is Shakespeare's induction of -Sly, the Lords and the Servants, for the two characters, Slipper and -Nano, who appear first in the induction, are sent out into the play -to serve as connecting links for all of its action. _James IV._ is -the only one of Greene's plays that has unity of action. The plot is -introduced with a masterly directness and economy. The fatal situation -breaks on the reader at the beginning, and throughout the play the -crux of the action remains the love of the King of Scots for another -than his queen. Ateukin springs up at the psychological moment and at -the dramatic crisis. The first act of the play, dramatically quite the -best first act written outside of Shakespeare up to his time, provides -the king's marriage to Dorothea, the revelation of his love for Ida, -the enlistment of Ateukin in the cause of the king's love, and a lover -for Ida to make her inaccessible. Aside from the development of the -tragedy of this situation there enters into the play only one minor -episode, the love of Lady Anderson for the young knight (in reality -Queen Dorothea) whom she is succouring in her castle. That Greene chose -to end the play after the manner of comedy, and not, as the situation -would seem to require, and the taste of the age must have demanded, -with the death of the erring king, is an effective indication of his -later freedom from restraint and of his personal philosophy of art. - -As Marlowe moved from the sublime passion of his _Tamburlaine_ theme -to the cold reserve of his _Edward II._, Greene also, casting off the -turgid eloquence of his early style, attained at the end to an art of -contemplative repose and genial humanity. The critic likes to feel that -in stripping away the excrescences from his art he was discovering -his own soul. In treating Greene as a representative Elizabethan, one -should not ignore the individuality of the man that stamps all his -work with a new impress. Without being original in structure or style -Greene was individual in outlook and temper. He had a keener eye for -the little things than any dramatist of his time, and he had also a -better sympathy for the quick flashing moods and manifestations of -human character. His knowledge of the concrete realities of character -is an attribute of the man himself. In depicting fairies he lacks, as -did Lyly, the imagination to vitalise an unreal world in the spirit -of a Shakespeare. He chooses his characters from the world around -him and studies them in their native habitat. His clowns, though -belonging to an ancient family, are racy of the soil of England, and -are fellows with Shadow, and Launce, and Speed and Grumio. Warren and -Ermsby are Englishmen of a sturdy type, and Sir Cuthbert Anderson and -Lady Anderson are studied as if in their Scotch castle. But Greene did -something more than present the exteriors of men as types. He studied -their psychology, and knew the warring forces within the individual -soul, the power of circumstance, and ambition, and love to direct the -forces of character into untoward paths. He knew that logic of human -nature that counts consistency untrue, and constructs motives out of -the syllogisms of perversity. So he divides the part of the Capitano, -in the original story upon which _James IV._ was based, into two parts, -one the working intelligence, Ateukin, and the other the executioner, -Jaques. So also the King of Scots is no puppet. He struggles as he -falls, and his fall is reflected in his distraught mind. And in the -depiction of women Greene lavishes the finest forces of his genius. -Nash called him "the Homer of women," and that phrase is worth the -entirety of _Strange News_ in defending Greene's fame. Sometimes he -goes to his own baser experience for his comment, and then there is, as -in _Orlando Furioso_ (p. 191), a touch of the awful invective delivered -against prostitutes in his _Never too Late_. But Greene's later art -was better than this. Scottish Ida, who wins the heart of the King of -Scots from English Doll, is no courtesan. Something of the respect and -love that breathes through Greene's allusions to Doll his wife is seen -in his treatment of all womankind. Even Angelica in _Orlando Furioso_, -unformed as are her outlines, represents that fidelity of a patient -Grizzel so well exemplified in Margaret in _Friar Bacon_ and Dorothea -in _James IV._ Nothing in Marlowe's Queen Isabella of _Edward II._, -Zenocrate of _Tamburlaine_, Abigail of _The Jew of Malta_, can equal -the sweet and simple womanliness of Greene's gallery, comprising Isabel -in _Never too Late_, Bellaria and Fawnia in _Pandosto_, Sephestia -in _Menaphon_, Philomela and the shepherd's wife in the _Mourning -Garment_, Margaret in _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_, and Ida and -Dorothea in _James IV._ - -Greene's skill in the treatment of character grew out of his knowledge -of life, and is involved in his most significant and enduring -contribution to the stage. This is the introduction of realism onto a -stage that was essentially romantic, and it arises from the application -of dramatic art to the experiences of everyday life. Greene's low -life is not artificial pastoral, nor is it the boorish clownage of -the interludes. It is the characteristic life of England that we see -in Harrison's _Description_, refined and beautified by a mature and -chastened art. Only in such art can come the homely ideal of "beauty -tempered with ... huswifery." By the time of _Friar Bacon and Friar -Bungay_ Greene's art has come home. Now in a series of domestic thumb -sketches he shows us Margaret: - - "And there amongst the cream bowls she did shine - As Pallas 'mongst her princely huswifery," - -and the hostess in the kitchen, - - "Spitting the meat 'gainst supper for my guess," - -and the hay, and butter, and cheese displays of Harleston fair. "He -was of singular pleasaunce, the very supporter, and, to no man's -disgrace be this intended, the only comedian, of a vulgar writer, in -this country," writes Chettle in _A Kind Hart's Dream_, summing up in -striking phrase the true contemporary judgment of Greene's greatest -distinction. But there is another aspect of his genius. He loved the -active life of out-of-doors, and he indulged a vigorous spirit of -participation in the life around him. But he saw behind things into the -spirit, and his treatment of events is dignified with a rich philosophy -drawn from his manifold contact with the most lavish era in England's -history. To him a drama is more than an isolated and a meaningless -show. In _Francesco's Fortunes_ he outlines the kind of play that he -himself wrote: "Therein they painted out in the persons the course -of the world, how either it was graced with honour, or discredited -with vices." He leaves the hollow-sounding verbiage of his early plays -to comment with the lawyer on "the manners and the fashions of this -age." His _James IV._ is a play of contemplation. Bohan is an early -"malcontent," and Andrew, noting the downfall of his prince, exclaims, -"Was never such a world, I think, before." With the heart of a democrat -Greene understands alike the problems of kings and yeomen. The counsel -of the King of England to Dorothea on the obligations and dangers of -sovereignty is sage and rational, and Ida's comments on the "greatest -good"--that it lies not "in delights, or pomp, or majesty"--are -rich with the best philosophy. In _A Quip for an Upstart Courtier_ -Clothbreeches asks, "Doth true virtue consist in riches, or humanity in -wealth? is ancient honour tied to outward bravery? or not rather true -nobility, a mind excellently qualified with rare virtues?" So often is -this note struck in Greene's plays that we might call it a personal one -were it not that it is beginning to appear commonly in the literature -of the time. - -Summing up Greene's contribution to the drama of his age we should -say that it lies in the essential comedy of his outlook on life, his -inherent _vis comica_; in his loving insight into human nature in its -familiar aspects; in his distrust of exaggeration and his tendency -to turn this to burlesque; and in his beautiful philosophy of the -eternal verities. Out of the drama of Greene there developed the new -romantic comedy of Shakespeare and the realism of joy of domestic -drama. After _George-a-Greene_ there came the Huntingdon plays of -Munday and Chettle, in which the woodland knight, Robin Hood, appears -again. After _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_ there came _Fair Em, A -Knack to Know a Knave, John-a-Kent and John-a-Cumber,_ and Dekker's -_Shoemaker's Holiday_. Heywood and Samuel Rowley and Munday and Dekker -and the author of _The Merry Devil of Edmonton_ share with Shakespeare -indisputable strains of his individual note. - -Professor Herford calls attention to the conflict, in Greene's life, -between "the fresh, unworn sense of beauty and poetry," and "the -bitter, disillusioned cynicism of premature old age." That conflict -was a necessary one. It was present also in the discrepancy between -the lyric note of Marlowe's yearning fancy and the hard reserve laid -upon his later pen by bitter suffering. Both of these were true -Elizabethans. They were true to their times in the vastness of their -conceptions and in the narrowness of their lives, in their poetic -triumphs no less than in their personal defeats. The marvellous thing -is that in the midst of riotous life they should have learned repose in -art, that though writing in a tavern their muse should have remained -chaste. Marlowe remained to the end the poet of "air and fire." From -Greene we get in the drama the first clear note of the English woodland -joy that had echoed fitfully in English non-dramatic verse from the -days of Chaucer and the unknown author of _Alysoun_. - -_A Groatsworth of Wit_ has been so often cited as a record in the -history of English drama that its value as a human document has been -forgotten. Of Greene's attack therein on Shakespeare there is no need -to say anything here. To those who have any concern with Greene himself -it is interesting chiefly for its revelation of the awful melancholy -of his last days and his pathetic sense of the wrongs suffered by the -little school of dramatists of which he was a member. The sense of pity -produced by reading this book is intensified by a study of Greene's -last days as suggested in his own succeeding book, _The Repentance of -Robert Greene_, and in the pamphlets of Harvey and Nash. Greene died on -the 3rd of September 1592, of a malady following a surfeit of Rhenish -wine and pickled herring. Before his death he received commendations -from his wife, and his last written words were addressed to her in a -request to pay the debt incurred by his sickness. We are told that -after his death the keeper of his garret crowned his head with bays. -Fourteen years later, when, with the exception of Lodge, the last of -the university wits had passed away, and Shakespeare, whom they had all -feared, had taken his abiding place, Dekker in his tract, _A Knight's -Coiffuring_, shows Marlowe, Greene and Peele, together once more in -Elysium, under the "shades of a large vine, laughing to see Nash, that -was but newly come to their college, still haunted with the sharp and -satirical spirit that had followed him here upon earth." - - - - -The text of this edition is based on Dyce's modernised text of 1861 -compared with the later collations of Grosart and Collins, and editions -of single plays by Ward, Manly and Gayley. The editor has been -conservative in accepting modifications of Dyce's text. The act and -scene divisions as found in Collins have been adopted, and the location -of scenes has been indicated throughout. - - - - -ALPHONSUS, KING OF ARRAGON - - -The first extant edition of _Alphonsus, King of Arragon_, was printed -in quarto by Thomas Creede in 1599. Lowndes mentions a quarto of 1597 -of which no trace can be found. Of the two copies of the quarto of -1599 now known, one is in the library of the Duke of Devonshire, and -the other is in the Dyce Library at South Kensington. _Alphonsus_ is -not mentioned by Henslowe in his _Diary_, nor is there any record -of the play in the Stationers' Registers. Nothing certain can be -said concerning the circumstances and dates of composition and first -performance of Greene's plays. But there can be no doubt that this is -one of Greene's earliest plays, for in the Prologue Greene says through -the mouth of Venus: - - "And this my hand, which usèd for to pen - The praise of love and Cupid's peerless power, - Will now begin to treat of bloody Mars." - -Nor can there be any doubt that the play was written in imitation of -Marlowe's _Tamburlaine_, mention of which occurs in IV. 3. A second -part, "when I come to finish up his life," is promised in the Epilogue. -That the second part was not written is probably an indication of the -failure of the piece. In the Preface to Greene's _Perimedes_ of 29th -March 1588, we learn that two "gentlemen poets" had caused two actors -to mock Greene's motto, _Omne tulit punctum_, because his verse fell -short of the bombast and blasphemy of Marlowe's early style. It has -been suggested that it may have been the verse of _Alphonsus_ that -was ridiculed. Certainly it must have been this play, or a lost early -play, for it was in drama that the "mighty line" appeared. There is in -Peele's _Farewell_, April 1589, a reference to a piece of mechanism -occurring in this play which closely connects it with Marlowe's first -play, "Mahomet's Poo and mighty Tamburlaine." This has been discussed -in the General Introduction. Greene's play is based distantly on the -history of Alphonso I. of Naples and V. of Arragon (1385-1454), though -with no pretence to historical accuracy. - - - - -DRAMATIS PERSONÆ - - -CARINUS, the rightful heir to the crown of Arragon. - -ALPHONSUS, his son. - -FLAMINIUS, King of Arragon. - -BELINUS, King of Naples. - -DUKE OF MILAN. - -ALBINIUS. - -FABIUS. - -LÆLIUS. - -MILES. - -AMURACK, the Great Turk. - -ARCASTUS, King of the Moors. - -CLARAMONT, King of Barbary. - -CROCON, King of Arabia. - -FAUSTUS, King of Babylon. - -BAJAZET. - -Two Priests of MAHOMET. - -Provost, Soldiers, Janissaries, etc. - -FAUSTA, wife to Amurack. - -IPHIGENA, her daughter. - -MEDEA, an enchantress. - -MAHOMET (speaking from the Brazen Head). - -VENUS. - -The NINE MUSES. - - - - -_THE COMICAL HISTORY OF ALPHONSUS, KING OF ARRAGON_ - - -ACT THE FIRST - - -PROLOGUE - - _After you have sounded thrice, let_ VENUS _be let down from the top - of the stage._ - - _Venus._ Poets are scarce, when goddesses themselves - Are forc'd to leave their high and stately seats, - Plac'd on the top of high Olympus' Mount, - To seek them out, to pen their champions' praise. - The time hath been when Homer's sugar'd Muse - Did make each echo to repeat his verse, - That every coward that durst crack a spear, - And tilt and tourney for his lady's sake, - Was painted out in colours of such price - As might become the proudest potentate. - But now-a-days so irksome idless' slights, - And cursèd charms have witch'd each student's mind, - That death it is to any of them all, - If that their hands to penning you do call. - O Virgil, Virgil, wert thou now alive, - Whose painful pen, in stout Augustus' days, - Did dain[26] to let the base and silly fly - To scape away without thy praise of her, - I do not doubt but long or ere this time, - Alphonsus' fame unto the heavens should climb; - Alphonsus' fame, that man of Jove his seed, - Sprung from the loins of the immortal gods, - Whose sire, although he habit on the earth, - May claim a portion in the fiery pole, - As well as any one whate'er he be. - But, setting by Alphonsus' power divine, - What man alive, or now amongst the ghosts, - Could countervail his courage and his strength? - But thou art dead, yea, Virgil, thou art gone, - And all his acts drown'd in oblivion. - And all his acts drown'd in oblivion?[27] - No, Venus, no, though poets prove unkind, - And loth to stand in penning of his deeds, - Yet rather than they shall be clean forgot, - I, which was wont to follow Cupid's games - Will put in ure[28] Minerva's sacred art; - And this my hand, which usèd for to pen - The praise of love and Cupid's peerless power, - Will now begin to treat of bloody Mars, - Of doughty deeds and valiant victories. - - _Enter_ MELPOMENE, CLIO, ERATO, _with their_ Sisters, _playing all - upon sundry instruments_, CALLIOPE _only excepted, who coming last, - hangeth down the head, and plays not of her instrument._ - - But see whereas[29] the stately Muses come, - Whose harmony doth very far surpass - The heavenly music of Apollo's pipe! - But what means this? Melpomene herself - With all her sisters sound their instruments, - Only excepted fair Calliope, - Who, coming last and hanging down her head, - Doth plainly show by outward actions - What secret sorrow doth torment her heart. - [_Stands aside._ - - _Mel._ Calliope, thou which so oft didst crake[30] - How that such clients cluster'd to thy court, - By thick and threefold, as not any one - Of all thy sisters might compare with thee, - Where be thy scholars now become, I trow? - Where are they vanish'd in such sudden sort, - That, while as we do play upon our strings, - You stand still lazing, and have naught to do? - - _Clio._ Melpomene, make you a why of that? - I know full oft you have [in] authors read, - The higher tree, the sooner is his fall, - And they which first do flourish and bear sway, - Upon the sudden vanish clean away. - - _Cal._ Mock on apace; my back is broad enough - To bear your flouts as many as they be. - That year is rare that ne'er feels winter's storms; - That tree is fertile which ne'er wanteth fruit; - And that same Muse hath heapèd well in store - Which never wanteth clients at her door. - But yet, my sisters, when the surgent seas - Have ebb'd their fill, their waves do rise again, - And fill their banks up to the very brims; - And when my pipe hath eas'd herself a while, - Such store of suitors shall my seat frequent, - That you shall see my scholars be not spent. - - _Erato._ Spent, quoth you, sister? then we were to blame, - If we should say your scholars all were spent: - But pray now tell me when your painful pen - Will rest enough? - - _Mel._ When husbandmen shear hogs. - - _Ven._ [_coming forward_]. Melpomene, Erato,[31] and the rest, - From thickest shrubs Dame Venus did espy - The mortal hatred which you jointly bear - Unto your sister high Calliope. - What, do you think if that the tree do bend, - It follows therefore that it needs must break? - And since her pipe a little while doth rest, - It never shall be able for to sound? - Yes, Muses, yes, if that she will vouchsafe - To entertain Dame Venus in her school, - And further me with her instructions, - She shall have scholars which will dain to be - In any other Muse's company. - - _Cal._ Most sacred Venus, do you doubt of that? - Calliope would think her three times blest - For to receive a goddess in her school, - Especially so high an one as you, - Which rules the earth, and guides the heavens too. - - _Ven._ Then sound your pipes, and let us bend our steps - Unto the top of high Parnassus Hill, - And there together do our best devoir - For to describe Alphonsus' warlike fame, - And, in the manner of a comedy, - Set down his noble valour presently. - - _Cal._ As Venus wills, so bids Calliope. - - _Mel._ And as you bid, your sisters do agree. [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE I.--_Near Naples._ - - _Enter_ CARINUS _and_ ALPHONSUS. - - _Cari._ My noble son, since first I did recount - The noble acts your predecessors did - In Arragon against their warlike foes, - I never yet could see thee joy at all, - But hanging down thy head as malcontent, - Thy youthful days in mourning have been spent. - Tell me, Alphonsus, what might be the cause - That makes thee thus to pine away with care? - Hath old Carinus done thee any offence - In reckoning up these stories unto thee? - What ne'er a word but mum? Alphonsus, speak, - Unless your father's fatal day you seek. - - _Alphon._ Although, dear father, I have often vow'd - Ne'er to unfold the secrets of my heart - To any man or woman, whosome'er - Dwells underneath the circle of the sky; - Yet do your words so cónjure me, dear sire, - That needs I must fulfil that you require. - Then so it is. Amongst the famous tales - Which you rehears'd done by our sires in war, - Whenas you came unto your father's days, - With sobbing notes, with sighs and blubbering tears, - And much ado, at length you thus began: - "Next to Alphonsus should my father come - For to possess the diadem by right - Of Arragon, but that the wicked wretch - His younger brother, with aspiring mind, - By secret treason robb'd him of his life, - And me his son of that which was my due." - These words, my sire, did so torment my mind, - As had I been with Ixion[32] in hell, - The ravening bird could never plague me worse; - For ever since my mind hath troubled been - Which way I might revenge this traitorous fact, - And that recover which is ours by right. - - _Cari._ Ah, my Alphonsus, never think on that! - In vain it is to strive against the stream: - The crown is lost, and now in hucksters' hands, - And all our hope is cast into the dust. - Bridle these thoughts, and learn the same of me,-- - A quiet life doth pass an empery. - - _Alphon._ Yet, noble father, ere Carinus' brood - Shall brook his foe for to usurp his seat, - He'll die the death with honour in the field, - And so his life and sorrows briefly end. - But did I know my froward fate were such - As I should fail in this my just attempt, - This sword, dear father, should the author be - To make an end of this my tragedy. - Therefore, sweet sire, remain you here a while, - And let me walk my Fortune for to try. - I do not doubt but, ere the time be long, - I'll quite his cost, or else myself will die. - - _Cari._ My noble son, since that thy mind is such - For to revenge thy father's foul abuse, - As that my words may not a whit prevail - To stay thy journey, go with happy fate, - And soon return unto thy father's cell, - With such a train as Julius Cæsar came - To noble Rome, whenas he had achiev'd[33] - The mighty monarch of the triple world. - Meantime Carinus in this silly[34] grove - Will spend his days with prayers and orisons, - To mighty Jove to further thine intent. - Farewell, dear son, Alphonsus, fare you well. [_Exit._ - - _Alphon._ And is he gone? then hie, Alphonsus, hie, - To try thy fortune where thy fates do call. - A noble mind disdains to hide his head, - And let his foes triumph in his overthrow. - [_Makes as though to go out._ - - _Enter_ ALBINIUS. - - _Albi._ What loitering fellow have we spièd here? - Presume not, villain, further for to go, - Unless[35] you do at length the same repent. - - _Alphon._ [_coming towards_ ALBINIUS]. - "Villain," say'st thou? nay, "villain" in thy throat! - What, know'st thou, skipjack, whom thou villain call'st? - - _Albi._ A common vassal I do villain call. - - _Alphon._ That shalt thou soon approve, persuade thyself, - Or else I'll die, or thou shalt die for me. - - _Albi._ What, do I dream, or do my dazzling eyes - Deceive me? Is't Alphonsus that I see? - Doth now Medea use her wonted charms - For to delude Albinius' fantasy? - Or doth black Pluto, king of dark Avern, - Seek to flout me with his counterfeit? - His body like to Alphonsus' framèd is; - His face resembles much Alphonsus' hue; - His noble mind declares him for no less; - 'Tis he indeed. Woe worth Albinius, - Whose babbling tongue hath caus'd his own annoy! - Why doth not Jove send from the glittering skies - His thunderbolts to chástise this offence? - Why doth Dame Terra cease[36] with greedy jaws - To swallow up Albinius presently? - What, shall I fly and hide my traitorous head, - From stout Alphonsus whom I so misus'd? - Or shall I yield? Tush, yielding is in vain: - Nor can I fly, but he will follow me. - Then cast thyself down at his grace's feet, - Confess thy fault, and ready make thy breast - To entertain thy well-deservèd death. [_Kneels._ - - _Alphon._ What news, my friend? why are you so blank, - That erst before did vaunt it to the skies? - - _Albi._ Pardon, dear lord! Albinius pardon craves - For this offence, which, by the heavens I vow, - Unwittingly I did unto your grace; - For had I known Alphonsus had been here, - Ere that my tongue had spoke so traitorously, - This hand should make my very soul to die. - - _Alphon._ Rise up, my friend, thy pardon soon is got: - [ALBINIUS _rises up._ - But, prithee, tell me what the cause might be, - That in such sort thou erst upbraided'st me? - - _Albi._ Most mighty prince, since first your father's sire - Did yield his ghost unto the Sisters Three, - And old Carinus forcèd was to fly - His native soil and royal diadem, - I, for because I seemèd to complain - Against their treason, shortly was forewarn'd - Ne'er more to haunt the bounds of Arragon, - On pain of death. Then like a man forlorn, - I sought about to find some resting-place, - And at the length did hap upon this shore, - Where showing forth my cruel banishment, - By King Belinus I am succourèd. - But now, my lord, to answer your demand: - It happens so, that the usurping king - Of Arragon makes war upon this land - For certain tribute which he claimeth here; - Wherefore Belinus sent me round about - His country for to gather up [his] men - For to withstand this most injurious foe; - Which being done, returning with the king, - Despitefully I did so taunt your grace, - Imagining you had some soldier been, - The which, for fear, had sneakèd from the camp. - - _Alphon._ Enough, Albinius, I do know thy mind: - But may it be that these thy happy news - Should be of truth, or have you forgèd them? - - _Albi._ The gods forbid that e'er Albinius' tongue - Should once be found to forge a feignèd tale, - Especially unto his sovereign lord: - But if Alphonsus think that I do feign, - Stay here a while, and you shall plainly see - My words be true, whenas you do perceive - Our royal army march before your face; - The which, if't please my noble lord to stay, - I'll hasten on with all the speed I may. - - _Alphon._ Make haste, Albinius, if you love my life; - But yet beware, whenas your army comes, - You do not make as though you do me know, - For I a while a soldier base will be, - Until I find time more convenient - To show, Albinius, what is mine intent. - - _Albi._ Whate'er Alphonsus fittest doth esteem, - Albinius for his profit best will deem. [_Exit._ - - _Alphon._ Now do I see both gods and fortune too - Do join their powers to raise Alphonsus' fame; - For in this broil I do not greatly doubt - But that I shall my cousin's courage tame. - But see whereas Belinus' army comes, - And he himself, unless I guess awry: - Whoe'er it be, I do not pass[37] a pin; - Alphonsus means his soldier for to be. - [_He stands aside._[38] - - -SCENE II.--_The Camp of_ BELINUS. - - _Enter_ BELINUS, ALBINIUS, FABIUS, _marching with their_ Soldiers; - _they make a stand._ ALPHONSUS _discovered at one side._ - - _Beli._ Thus far, my lords, we trainèd have our camp - For to encounter haughty Arragon, - Who with a mighty power of straggling mates - Hath traitorously assailèd this our land, - And burning towns, and sacking cities fair, - Doth play the devil wheresome'er he comes. - Now, as we are informèd of our scouts, - He marcheth on unto our chiefest seat, - Naples, I mean, that city of renown, - For to begirt it with his bands about, - And so at length, the which high Jove forbid, - To sack the same, as erst he other did. - If which should hap, Belinus were undone, - His country spoil'd, and all his subjects slain: - Wherefore your sovereign thinketh it most meet - For to prevent the fury of the foe, - And Naples succour, that distressèd town, - By entering in, ere Arragon doth come, - With all our men, which will sufficient be - For to withstand their cruel battery. - - _Albi._ The silly serpent, found by country swain, - And cut in pieces by his furious blows, - Yet if her head do 'scape away untouch'd, - As many write, it very strangely goes - To fetch an herb, with which in little time - Her batter'd corpse again she doth conjoin: - But if by chance the ploughman's sturdy staff - Do hap to hit upon the serpent's head, - And bruise the same, though all the rest be sound - Yet doth the silly serpent lie for dead, - Nor can the rest of all her body serve - To find a salve which may her life preserve. - Even so, my lord, if Naples once be lost, - Which is the head of all your grace's land, - Easy it were for the malicious foe - To get the other cities in their hand: - But if from them that Naples town be free, - I do not doubt but safe the rest shall be; - And therefore, mighty king, I think it best, - To succour Naples rather than the rest. - - _Beli._ 'Tis bravely spoken; by my crown I swear, - I like thy counsel, and will follow it. - But hark, Albinius, dost thou know the man, - That doth so closely overthwart us stand? - [_Pointing towards_ ALPHONSUS. - - _Albi._ Not I, my lord, nor never saw him yet. - - _Beli._ Then, prithee, go and ask him presently, - What countryman he is, and why he comes - Into this place? perhaps he is some one, - That is sent hither as a secret spy - To hear and see in secret what we do. - [ALBINIUS _and_ FABIUS _go toward_ ALPHONSUS. - - _Albi._ My friend, what art thou, that so like a spy - Dost sneak about Belinus' royal camp? - - _Alphon._ I am a man. - - _Fabi._ A man! we know the same: - But prithee, tell me, and set scoffing by, - What countryman thou art, and why you come, - That we may soon resolve the king thereof? - - _Alphon._ Why, say I am a soldier. - - _Fabi._ Of whose band? - - _Alphon._ Of his that will most wages to me give. - - _Fabi._ But will you be - Content to serve Belinus in his wars? - - _Alphon._ Ay, if he'll reward me as I do deserve, - And grant whate'er I win, it shall be mine - Incontinent. - - _Albi._ Believe me, sir, your service costly is: - But stay a while, and I will bring you word - What King Belinus says unto the same. - [_Goes towards_ BELINUS. - - _Beli._ What news, Albinius? who is that we see? - - _Albi._ It is, my lord, a soldier that you see, - Who fain would serve your grace in these your wars, - But that, I fear, his service is too dear. - - _Beli._ Too dear, why so? what doth the soldier crave? - - _Albi._ He craves, my lord, all things that with his sword - He doth obtain, whatever that they be. - - _Beli._ [_To_ ALPHONSUS]. Content, my friend; if thou wilt succour me, - Whate'er you get, that challenge as thine own; - Belinus gives it frankly unto thee, - Although it be the crown of Arragon. - Come on, therefóre, and let us hie apace - To Naples town, whereas by this, I know, - Our foes have pitch'd their tents against our walls. - - _Alphon._ March on, my lord, for I will follow you; - And do not doubt but, ere the time be long, - I shall obtain the crown of Arragon. [_Exeunt._ - - - - -ACT THE SECOND - - -PROLOGUE - - _Enter_ BELINUS, ALBINIUS, FABIUS _and_ ALPHONSUS _with_ Soldiers; - _alarum, and then enter_ VENUS. - - _Venus._ Thus from the pit of pilgrim's poverty - Alphonsus 'gins by step and step to climb - Unto the top of friendly Fortune's wheel: - From banish'd state, as you have plainly seen, - He is transform'd into a soldier's life, - And marcheth in the ensign of the king - Of worthy Naples, which Belinus hight; - Not for because that he doth love him so, - But that he may revenge him on his foe. - Now on the top of lusty barbèd steed - He mounted is, in glittering armour clad, - Seeking about the troops of Arragon, - For to encounter with his traitorous niece.[39] - How he doth speed, and what doth him befall, - Mark this our act, for it doth show it all. - [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE I.--_A Battle-field._ - - - _Alarum. Enter_ FLAMINIUS _on one side,_ ALPHONSUS _on the other. They - fight_; ALPHONSUS _kills_ FLAMINIUS. - - _Alphon._ Go pack thou hence unto the Stygian lake, - And make report unto thy traitorous sire - How well thou hast enjoy'd the diadem - Which he by treason set upon thy head; - And if he ask thee who did send thee down, - Alphonsus say, who now must wear thy crown. - - _Alarum. Enter_ LÆLIUS. - - _Læli._ Traitor, how dar'st thou look me in the face, - Whose mighty king thou traitorously hast slain? - What, dost thou think Flaminius hath no friends - For to revenge his death on thee again? - Yes, be you sure that, ere you 'scape from hence, - Thy gasping ghost shall bear him company, - Or else myself, fighting for his defence, - Will be content by those thy hands to die. - - _Alphon._ Lælius, few words would better thee become, - Especially as now the case doth stand; - And didst thou know whom thou dost threaten thus, - We should you have more calmer out of hand: - For, Lælius, know that I Alphonsus am, - The son and heir to old Carinus, whom - The traitorous father of Flaminius - Did secretly bereave his diadem. - But see the just revenge of mighty Jove! - The father dead, the son is likewise slain - By that man's hand who they did count as dead, - Yet doth survive to wear the diadem, - When they themselves accompany the ghosts - Which wander round about the Stygian fields. - [LÆLIUS _gazes upon_ ALPHONSUS. - Muse not hereat, for it is true I say; - I am Alphonsus, whom thou hast misus'd. - - _Læli._ The man whose death I did so oft lament? - [_Kneels._ - Then pardon me for these uncourteous words, - The which I in my rage did utter forth, - Prick'd by the duty of a loyal mind; - Pardon, Alphonsus, this my first offence, - And let me die if e'er I flight[40] again. - - _Alphon._ Lælius, I fain would pardon this offence, - And eke accept thee to my grace again, - But that I fear that, when I stand in need - And want your help, you will your lord betray: - How say you, Lælius, may I trust to thee? - - _Læli._ Ay, noble lord, by all the gods I vow; - For first shall heavens want stars, and foaming seas - Want watery drops, before I'll traitor be - Unto Alphonsus, whom I honour so. - - _Alphon._ Well then, arise; and for because I'll try - [LÆLIUS _arises._ - If that thy words and deeds be both alike, - Go haste and fetch the youths of Arragon, - Which now I hear have turn'd their heels and fled: - Tell them your chance, and bring them back again - Into this wood; where in ambushment lie, - Until I send or come for you myself. - - _Læli._ I will, my lord. - [_Exit._ - - _Alphon._ Full little think Belinus and his peers - What thoughts Alphonsus casteth in his mind; - For if they did, they would not greatly haste - To pay the same the which they promis'd me. - - _Enter_ BELINUS, ALBINIUS, FABIUS, _with their_ Soldiers, _marching._ - - _Beli._ Like simple sheep, when shepherd absent is - Far from his flock, assail'd by greedy wolves, - Do scattering fly about, some here, some there, - To keep their bodies from their ravening jaws, - So do the fearful youths of Arragon - Run round about the green and pleasant plains, - And hide their heads from Neapolitans; - Such terror have their strong and sturdy blows - Struck to their hearts, as for a world of gold, - I warrant you, they will not come again. - But, noble lords, where is the knight become - Which made the blood be-sprinkle all the place - Whereas he did encounter with his foe? - My friend, Albinius, know you where he is? - - _Albi._ Not I, my lord, for since in thickest ranks - I saw him chase Flaminius at the heels, - I never yet could set mine eyes on him. - But see, my lord, whereas the warrior stands, - Or else my sight doth fail me at this time. - [_Spies out_ ALPHONSUS, _and shows him to_ BELINUS. - - _Beli._ 'Tis he indeed, who, as I do suppose, - Hath slain the king, or else some other lord, - For well I wot, a carcass I do see - Hard at his feet lie struggling on the ground. - Come on, Albinius, we will try the truth. - [BELINUS _and_ ALBINIUS _go towards_ ALPHONSUS. - Hail to the noble victor of our foes! - - _Alphon._ Thanks, mighty prince; but yet I seek not this: - It is not words must recompense my pain, - But deeds. When first I took up arms for you, - Your promise was, whatever my sword did win - In fight, as his Alphonsus should it crave. - See, then, where lies thy foe Flaminius, - Whose crown my sword hath conquer'd in the field; - Therefore, Belinus, make no long delay, - But that discharge you promis'd for to pay. - - _Beli._ Will nothing else satisfy thy conquering mind - Besides the crown? Well, since thou hast it won, - Thou shalt it have, though far against my will. - [ALPHONSUS _sits in the chair_; BELINUS _takes the crown off_ - FLAMINIUS' _head, and puts it on that of_ ALPHONSUS. - Here doth Belinus crown thee with his hand - The King of Arragon. - [_Trumpets and drums sound within._ - What, are you pleas'd? - - _Alphon._ Not so, Belinus, till you promise me - All things belonging to the royal crown - Of Arragon, and make your lordings swear - For to defend me to their utmost power - Against all men that shall gainsay the same. - - _Beli._ Mark, what belongèd erst unto the crown - Of Arragon, that challenge as thine own; - Belinus gives it frankly unto thee, - And swears by all the powers of glittering skies - To do my best for to maintain the same, - So that it be not prejudicial - Unto mine honour, or my country-soil. - - _Albi._ And by the sacred seat of mighty Jove - Albinius swears that first he'll die the death, - Before he'll see Alphonsus suffer wrong. - - _Fabi._ What erst Albinius vow'd we jointly vow. - - _Alphon._ Thanks, mighty lords; but yet I greatly fear - That very few will keep the oaths they swear. - But, what, Belinus, why stand you so long, - And cease from offering homage unto me? - What, know you not that I thy sovereign am, - Crownèd by thee and all thy other lords, - And now confirmèd by your solemn oaths? - Feed not thyself with fond persuasions, - But presently come yield thy crown to me, - And do me homage, or by heavens I swear - I'll force thee to it maugre all thy train. - - _Beli._ How now, base brat! what, are thy wits thine own, - That thou dar'st thus abraid[41] me in my land? - 'Tis best for thee these speeches to recall, - Or else, by Jove, I'll make thee to repent - That ere thou sett'st thy foot in Naples' soil. - - _Alphon._ "Base brat," say'st thou? as good a man as thou: - But say I came but of a base descent, - My deeds shall make my glory for to shine - As clear as Luna in a winter's night. - But for because thou bragg'st so of thy birth, - I'll see how it shall profit thee anon. - - _Fabi._ Alphonsus, cease from these thy threatening words, - And lay aside this thy presumptuous mind, - Or else be sure thou shalt the same repent. - - _Alphon._ How now, sir boy! will you be prattling too? - 'Tis best for thee to hold thy tattling tongue, - Unless I send some one to scourge thy breech. - Why, then, I see 'tis time to look about - When every boy Alphonsus dares control: - But be they sure, ere Phœbus' golden beams - Have compassèd the circle of the sky, - I'll clog their tongues, since nothing else will serve - To keep those vilde[42] and threatening speeches in. - Farewell, Belinus, look thou to thyself: - Alphonsus means to have thy crown ere night. - [_Exit._ - - _Beli._ What, is he gone? the devil break his neck, - The fiends of hell torment his traitorous corpse! - Is this the quittance of Belinus' grace, - Which he did show unto that thankless wretch, - That runagate, that rakehell, yea, that thief? - For, well I wot, he hath robb'd me of a crown. - If ever he had sprung from gentle blood, - He would not thus misuse his favourer. - - _Albi._ "That runagate, that rakehell, yea, that thief"! - Stay there, sir king, your mouth runs over-much; - It ill becomes the subject for to use - Such traitorous terms against his sovereign. - Know thou, Belinus, that Carinus' son - Is neither rakehell, [no], nor runagate. - But be thou sure that, ere the darksome night - Do drive god Phœbus to his Thetis' lap, - Both thou, and all the rest of this thy train, - Shall well repent the words which you have sain. - - _Beli._ What, traitorous villain, dost thou threaten me?-- - Lay hold on him, and see he do not 'scape: - I'll teach the slave to know to whom he speaks. - - _Albi._ To thee I speak, and to thy fellows all; - And though as now you have me in your power, - Yet doubt I not but that in little space - These eyes shall see thy treason recompens'd, - And then I mean to vaunt our victory. - - _Beli._ Nay, proud Albinius, never build on that; - For though the gods do chance for to appoint - Alphonsus victor of Belinus' land, - Yet shalt thou never live to see that day;-- - And therefore, Fabius, stand not lingering, - But presently slash off his traitorous head. - - _Albi._ Slash off his head! as though Albinius' head - Were then so easy to be slashèd off: - In faith, sir, no; when you are gone and dead, - I hope to flourish like the pleasant spring. - - _Beli._ Why, how now, Fabius! what, do you stand in doubt - To do the deed? what fear you? who dares seek - For to revenge his death on thee again, - Since that Belinus did command it so? - Or are you wax'd so dainty, that you dare - Not use your sword for staining of your hands? - If it be so, then let me see thy sword, - And I will be his butcher for this time. - [FABIUS _gives_ BELINUS _his sword drawn._ - Now, Sir Albinius, are you of the mind - That erst you were? what, do you look to see, - And triumph in, Belinus' overthrow? - I hope the very sight of this my blade - Hath chang'd your mind into another tune. - - _Albi._ Not so, Belinus, I am constant still; - My mind is like to the asbeston-stone, - Which, if it once be heat in flames of fire, - Denieth to becomen cold again: - Even so am I, and shall be till I die. - And though I should see Atropos appear, - With knife in hand, to slit my thread in twain, - Yet ne'er Albinius should persuaded be - But that Belinus he should vanquish'd see. - - _Beli._ Nay, then, Albinius, since that words are vain - For to persuade you from this heresy, - This sword shall sure put you out of doubt. - - [BELINUS _offers to strike off_ ALBINIUS' _head: alarum; enter_ - ALPHONSUS _and his_ Men; BELINUS _and_ FABIUS _fly, followed by_ - ALPHONSUS _and_ ALBINIUS. - - -SCENE II.--_Another Part of the Field._ - - _Enter_ LÆLIUS, MILES, _and_ Servants. - - _Læli._ My noble lords of Arragon, I know - You wonder much what might the occasion be - That Lælius, which erst did fly the field, - Doth egg you forwards now unto the wars; - But when you hear my reason, out of doubt - You'll be content with this my rash attempt. - When first our king, Flaminius I do mean, - Did set upon the Neapolitans, - The worst of you did know and plainly see - How far they were unable to withstand - The mighty forces of our royal camp, - Until such time as froward fates we thought,-- - Although the fates ordain'd it for our gain,-- - Did send a stranger stout, whose sturdy blows - And force alone did cause our overthrow. - But to our purpose: this same martial knight - Did hap to hit upon Flaminius, - And lent our king then such a friendly blow - As that his gasping ghost to Limbo went. - Which when I saw, and seeking to revenge, - My noble lords, did hap on such a prize - As never king nor keisar got the like. - - _Miles._ Lælius, of force we must confess to thee, - We wonder'd all whenas you did persuade - Us to return unto the wars again; - But since our marvel is increasèd much - By these your words, which sound of happiness: - Therefore, good Lælius, make no tarrying, - But soon unfold thy happy chance to us. - - _Læli._ Then, friends and fellow soldiers, hark to me; - When Lælius thought for to revenge his king - On that same knight, instead of mortal foe, - I found him for to be our chiefest friend. - - _Miles._ Our chiefest friend! I hardly can believe - That he, which made such bloody massacres - Of stout Italians, can in any point - Bear friendship to the country or the king. - - _Læli._ As for your king, Miles, I hold with you, - He bare no friendship to Flaminius, - But hated him as bloody Atropos; - But for your country, Lælius doth avow - He loves as well as any other land, - Yea, sure, he loves it best of all the world. - And, for because you shall not think that I - Do say the same without a reason why, - Know that the knight Alphonsus hath to name, - Both son and heir to old Carinus, whom - Flaminius' sire bereavèd of his crown; - Who did not seek the ruin of our host - For any envy he did bear to us, - But to revenge him on his mortal foe; - Which by the help of high celestial Jove - He hath achiev'd with honour in the field. - - _Miles._ Alphonsus, man! I'll ne'er persuaded be - That e'er Alphonsus may survive again, - Who with Carinus, many years ago, - Was said to wander in the Stygian fields. - - _Læli._ Truth, noble Miles: these mine ears have heard, - For certainty reported unto me, - That old Carinus, with his peerless son, - Had felt the sharpness of the Sisters' shears; - And had I not of late Alphonsus seen - In good estate, though all the world should say - He is alive, I would not credit them. - But, fellow soldiers, wend you back with me, - And let us lurk within the secret shade - Which he himself appointed unto us; - And if you find my words to be untroth, - Then let me die to recompense the wrong. - - _Alarum: re-enter_ ALBINIUS _with his sword drawn._ - - _Albi._ Lælius, make haste: soldiers of Arragon, - Set lingering by, and come and help your king, - I mean Alphonsus, who, whilst that he did - Pursue Belinus at the very heels, - Was suddenly environèd about - With all the troops of mighty Milan-land. - - _Miles._ What news is this! and is it very so? - Is our Alphonsus yet in human state, - Whom all the world did judge for to be dead? - Yet can I scarce give credit to the same: - Give credit! yes, and since the Milan Duke - Hath broke his league of friendship, be he sure, - Ere Cynthia, the shining lamp of night, - Doth scale the heavens with her hornèd head, - Both he and his shall very plainly see - The league is burst that causèd long the glee. - - _Læli._ And could the traitor harbour in his breast - Such mortal treason 'gainst his sovereign, - As when he should with fire and sword defend - Him from his foes, he seeks his overthrow? - March on, my friends: I ne'er shall joy at all, - Until I see that bloody traitor's fall. - [_Exeunt._ - - _Alarum;_ BELINUS _flies, followed by_ LÆLIUS; FABIUS _flies, followed - by_ ALBINIUS; _the_ DUKE OF MILAN _flies, followed by_ MILES. - - - - -ACT THE THIRD - - -PROLOGUE - - _Alarum. Enter_ VENUS. - - - _Venus._ No sooner did Alphonsus with his troop - Set on the soldiers of Belinus' band, - But that the fury of his sturdy blows - Did strike such terror to their daunted minds - That glad was he which could escape away, - With life and limb, forth of that bloody fray. - Belinus flies unto the Turkish soil, - To crave the aid of Amurack their king; - Unto the which he willingly did consent, - And sends Belinus, with two other kings, - To know God Mahomet's pleasure in the same. - Meantime the empress by Medea's help - Did use such charms that Amurack did see, - In soundest sleep, what afterward should hap. - How Amurack did recompense her pain, - With mickle more, this act shall show you plain. - [_Exit._ - - -SCENE I.--_Camp of_ ALPHONSUS, _near Naples._ - - _Enter one, carrying two crowns upon a crest;_ ALPHONSUS, ALBINIUS, - LÆLIUS, _and_ MILES, _with their_ Soldiers. - - _Alphon._ Welcome, brave youths of Arragon, to me, - Yea, welcome, Miles, Lælius, and the rest, - Whose prowess alone hath been the only cause - That we, like victors, have subdu'd our foes. - Lord, what a pleasure was it to my mind, - To see Belinus, which not long before - Did with his threatenings terrify the gods, - Now scud apace from warlike Lælius' blows. - The Duke of Milan, he increas'd our sport, - Who doubting that his force was over-weak - For to withstand, Miles, thy sturdy arm, - Did give more credence to his frisking skips - Than to the sharpness of his cutting blade. - What Fabius did to pleasure us withal, - Albinius knows as well as I myself; - For, well I wot, if that thy tirèd steed - Had been as fresh and swift in foot as his, - He should have felt, yea, known for certainty, - To check Alphonsus did deserve to die. - Briefly, my friends and fellow-peers in arms, - The worst of you deserve such mickle praise, - As that my tongue denies for to set forth - The demi-parcel of your valiant deeds; - So that, perforce, I must by duty be - Bound to you all for this your courtesy. - - _Miles._ Not so, my lord; for if our willing arms - Have pleasur'd you so much as you do say, - We have done naught but that becometh us, - For to defend our mighty sovereign. - As for my part, I count my labour small, - Yea, though it had been twice as much again, - Since that Alphonsus doth accept thereof. - - _Alphon._ Thanks, worthy Miles: lest all the world - Should count Alphonsus thankless for to be, - Lælius, sit down, and, Miles, sit by him, - And that receive the which your swords have won. - [LÆLIUS _and_ MILES _sit down._ - First, for because thou, Lælius, in these broils, - By martial might, didst proud Belinus chase - From troop to troop, from side to side about, - And never ceas'd from this thy swift pursuit - Until thou hadst obtain'd his royal crown, - Therefore, I say, I'll do thee naught but right, - And give thee that which thou well hast won. - [_Sets the crown on his head._ - Here doth Alphonsus crown thee, Lælius, King - Of Naples' town, with all dominions - That erst belongèd to our traitorous foe, - That proud Belinus, in his regiment. - [_Trumpets and drums sounded._ - Miles, thy share the Milan Dukedom is, - For, well I wot, thy sword deserv'd no less; - [_Sets the crown on his head._ - The which Alphonsus frankly giveth thee, - In presence of his warlike men-at-arms; - And if that any stomach[43] this my deed, - Alphonsus can revenge thy wrong with speed. - [_Trumpets and drums sounded._ - Now to Albinius, which in all my toils - I have both faithful, yea, and friendly, found: - Since that the gods and friendly fates assign - This present time to me to recompense - The sundry pleasures thou hast done to me, - Sit down by them, and on thy faithful head - [_Takes the crown from his own head._ - Receive the crown of peerless Arragon. - - _Albi._ Pardon, dear lord, Albinius at this time; - It ill becomes me for to wear a crown - Whenas my lord is destitute himself. - Why, high Alphonsus, if I should receive - This crown of you, the which high Jove forbid, - Where would yourself obtain a diadem? - Naples is gone, Milan possessèd is, - And naught is left for you but Arragon. - - _Alphon._ And naught is left for me but Arragon! - Yes, surely, yes, my fates have so decreed, - That Arragon should be too base a thing - For to obtain Alphonsus for her king. - What, hear you not how that our scatter'd foes, - Belinus, Fabius, and the Milan duke, - Are fled for succour to the Turkish court? - And think you not that Amurack their king, - Will, with the mightiest power of all his land, - Seek to revenge Belinus' overthrow? - Then doubt I not but, ere these broils do end, - Alphonsus shall possess the diadem - That Amurack now wears upon his head. - Sit down therefóre, and that receive of me - The which the fates appointed unto thee. - - _Albi._ Thou King of Heaven, which by Thy power divine - Dost see the secrets of each liver's heart, - Bear record now with what unwilling mind - I do receive the crown of Arragon. - [ALBINIUS _sits down by_ LÆLIUS _and_ MILES; ALPHONSUS - _sets the crown on his head._ - - _Alphon._ Arise, Albinius, King of Arragon, - Crownèd by me, who, till my gasping ghost - Do part asunder from my breathless corpse, - Will be thy shield against all men alive - That for thy kingdom any way do strive. - [_Trumpets and drums sounded._ - Now since we have, in such an happy hour, - Confirm'd three kings, come, let us march with speed - Into the city, for to celebrate - With mirth and joy this blissful festival. - [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE II.--_Palace of_ AMURACK _at Constantinople._ - - _Enter_ AMURACK, BELINUS, FABIUS, ARCASTUS, CLARAMONT _and_ BAJAZET, - _with their train._ - - _Amu._ Welcome, Belinus, to thy cousin's court, - Whose late arrival in such posting pace - Doth bring both joy and sorrow to us all; - Sorrow, because the fates have been so false - To let Alphonsus drive thee from thy land, - And joy, since that now mighty Mahomet - Hath given me cause to recompense at full - The sundry pleasures I receiv'd of thee. - Therefore, Belinus, do but ask and have, - For Amurack doth grant whate'er you crave. - - _Beli._ Thou second sun, which with thy glimpsing beams - Dost clarify each corner of the earth, - Belinus comes not, as erst Midas did - To mighty Bacchus, to desire of him - That whatsoe'er at any time he touch'd - Might turnèd be to gold incontinent. - Nor do I come as Jupiter did erst - Unto the palace of Amphitryon, - For any fond or foul concupiscence - Which I do bear to Alcumena's hue. - But as poor Saturn, forc'd by mighty Jove - To fly his country, banish'd and forlorn, - Did crave the aid of Troos, King of Troy, - So comes Belinus to high Amurack; - And if he can but once your aid obtain, - He turns with speed to Naples back again. - - _Amu._ My aid, Belinus! do you doubt of that? - If all the men-at-arms of Africa, - Of Asia likewise, will sufficient be - To press the pomp of that usurping mate, - Assure thyself, thy kingdom shall be thine, - If Mahomet say ay unto the same; - For were I sure to vanquish all our foes, - And find such spoils in ransacking their tents - As never any keisar did obtain, - Yet would I not set foot forth of this land, - If Mahomet our journey did withstand. - - _Beli._ Nor would Belinus, for King Crœsus' trash, - Wish Amurack to displease the gods, - In pleasuring me in such a trifling toy. - Then, mighty monarch, if it be thy will, - Get their consents, and then the act fulfil. - - _Amu._ You counsel well; therefore, Belinus, haste, - And, Claramont, go bear him company, - With King Arcastus, to the city walls: - Then bend with speed unto the darksome grove, - Where Mahomet, this many a hundred year, - Hath prophesied unto our ancestors. - Tell to his priests that Amurack, your king, - Is now selecting all his men-at-arms - To set upon that proud Alphonsus' troop: - (The cause you know, and can inform them well, - That makes me take these bloody broils in hand?) - And say that I desire their sacred god, - That Mahomet which ruleth all the skies, - To send me word, and that most speedily, - Which of us shall obtain the victory. - [_Exeunt all except_ BAJAZET _and_ AMURACK. - You, Bajazet, go post away apace - To Syria, Scythia, and Albania, - To Babylon, with Mesopotamia, - Asia, Armenia, and all other lands - Which owe their homage to high Amurack: - Charge all their kings with expedition - To gather up the chiefest men-at-arms - Which now remain in their dominions, - And on the twentieth day of the same month - To come and wait on Amurack their king, - At his chief city Constantinople. - Tell them, moreover, that, whoso doth fail, - Naught else but death from prison shall him bail. - [_Exit_ BAJAZET. _Music within._ - What heavenly music soundeth in my ear? - Peace, Amurack, and hearken to the same. - [_Hearkening to the music_ AMURACK _falls asleep._ - - _Enter_ MEDEA, FAUSTA _and_ IPHIGENA. - - _Medea._ Now have our charms fulfill'd our minds full well; - High Amurack is lullèd fast asleep, - And doubt I not but, ere he wakes again, - You shall perceive Medea did not gibe - Whenas she put this practice in your mind. - Sit, worthy Fausta, at thy spouse his feet. - Iphigena, sit thou on the other side: - [FAUSTA _and_ IPHIGENA _sit down at_ AMURACK'S _feet._ - Whate'er you see, be not aghast thereat, - But bear in mind what Amurack doth chat. - [_Does ceremonies belonging to conjuring._ - Thou, which wert wont, in Agamemnon's days, - To utter forth Apollo's oracles - At sacred Delphos, Calchas I do mean, - I charge thee come; all lingering set aside, - Unless the penance you thereof abide: - I cónjure thee by Pluto's loathsome lake, - By all the hags which harbour in the same, - By stinking Styx, and filthy Phlegethon, - To come with speed, and truly to fulfil - That which Medea to thee straight shall will! - [CALCHAS _rises up,_[44] _in a white surplice and a - cardinal's mitre._ - - _Calc._ Thou wretched witch, when wilt thou make an end - Of troubling us with these thy cursèd charms? - What mean'st thou thus to call me from my grave? - Shall ne'er my ghost obtain his quiet rest? - - _Medea._ Yes, Calchas, yes, your rest doth now approach; - Medea means to trouble thee no more, - Whenas thou hast fulfill'd her mind this once. - Go, get thee hence to Pluto back again, - And there inquire of the Destinies - How Amurack shall speed in these his wars: - Peruse their books, and mark what is decreed - By Jove himself, and all his fellow-gods; - And when thou know'st the certainty thereof, - By fleshless visions show it presently - To Amurack, in pain of penalty. - - _Calc._ Forc'd by thy charm, though with unwilling mind, - I haste to hell, the certainty to find. - [_Sinks down where he came up._ - - _Medea._ Now, peerless princess, I must needs be gone; - My hasty business calls me from this place. - There resteth naught, but that you bear in mind - What Amurack, in this his fit, doth say; - For mark, what dreaming, madam, he doth prate, - Assure yourself that that shall be his fate. - - _Fausta._ Though very loth to let thee so depart, - Farewell, Medea, easer of my heart. [_Exit_ MEDEA. - [_Instruments sound within._ - - _Amu._ [_speaking in a dream_]. - What, Amurack, dost thou begin to nod? - Is this the care that thou hast of thy wars? - As when thou shouldst be prancing of thy steed. - To egg thy soldiers forward in thy wars, - Thou sittest moping by the fire-side? - See where thy viceroys grovel on the ground; - Look where Belinus breatheth forth his ghost; - Behold by millions how thy men do fall - Before Alphonsus, like to silly sheep; - And canst thou stand still lazing in this sort? - No, proud Alphonsus, Amurack doth fly - To quail thy courage, and that speedily. - [_Instruments sound within._ - And dost thou think, thou proud injurious god, - Mahound I mean, since thy vain prophecies - Led Amurack into this doleful case, - To have his princely feet in irons clapt, - Which erst the proudest kings were forc'd to kiss, - That thou shalt 'scape unpunish'd for the same? - No, no, as soon as by the help of Jove - I 'scape this bondage, down go all thy groves, - Thy altars tumble round about the streets, - And whereas erst we sacrific'd to thee, - Now all the Turks thy mortal foes shall be. - [_Instruments sound within._ - Behold the gem and jewel of mine age, - See where she comes, whose heavenly majesty - Doth far surpass the brave and gorgeous pace - Which Cytherea, daughter unto Jove, - Did put in ure whenas she had obtain'd - The golden apple at the shepherd's hands. - See, worthy Fausta, where Alphonsus stands, - Whose valiant courage could not daunted be - With all the men-at-arms of Africa; - See now he stands as one that lately saw - Medusa's head, or Gorgon's hoary hue. - [_Instruments sound within._ - And can it be that it may happen so? - Can fortune prove so friendly unto me - As that Alphonsus loves Iphigena? - The match is made, the wedding is decreed: - Sound trumpets, ho! strike drums for mirth and glee! - And three times welcome son-in-law to me! - - _Fausta._ [_rising up in a fury and waking_ AMURACK]. - Fie, Amurack, what wicked words be these? - How canst thou look thy Fausta in her face, - Whom thou hast wrongèd in this shameful sort? - And are the vows so solemnly you sware - Unto Belinus, my most friendly niece, - Now wash'd so clearly from thy traitorous heart? - Is all the rancour which you erst did bear - Unto Alphonsus worn so out of mind - As, where thou shouldst pursue him to death, - You seek to give our daughter to his hands? - The gods forbid that such a heinous deed - With my consent should ever be decreed: - And rather than thou shouldst it bring to pass, - If all the army of Amazones - Will be sufficient to withhold the same, - Assure thyself that Fausta means to fight - 'Gainst Amurack for to maintain the right. - - _Iphi._ Yea, mother, say,--which Mahomet forbid,-- - That in this conflict you should have the foil, - Ere that Alphonsus should be call'd my spouse, - This heart, this hand, yea, and this blade, should be - A readier means to finish that decree. - - _Amu._ [_rising in a rage_]. - What threatening words thus thunder in mine ears? - Or who are they, amongst the mortal troops, - That dare presume to use such threats to me? - The proudest kings and keisars of the land - Are glad to feed me in my fantasy; - And shall I suffer, then, each prattling dame - For to upbraid me in this spiteful sort? - No, by the heavens, first will I lose my crown, - My wife, my children, yea, my life and all. - And therefore, Fausta, thou which Amurack - Did tender erst, as the apple of mine eye, - Avoid my court, and, if thou lov'st thy life, - Approach not nigh unto my regiment. - As for this carping girl, Iphigena, - Take her with thee to bear thee company, - And in my land I rede[45] be seen no more, - For if you do, you both shall die therefóre. [_Exit._ - - _Fausta._ Nay, then, I see 'tis time to look about, - Delay is dangerous, and procureth harm: - The wanton colt is tamèd in his youth; - Wounds must be cur'd when they be fresh and green; - And pleurisies, when they begin to breed, - With little care are driven away with speed. - Had Fausta then, when Amurack begun - With spiteful speeches to control and check, - Sought to prevent it by her martial force, - This banishment had never hapt to me. - But the echinus, fearing to be gor'd, - Doth keep her younglings in her paunch so long, - Till, when their pricks be waxen long and sharp, - They put their dam at length to double pain: - And I, because I loath'd the broils of Mars, - Bridled my thoughts, and pressèd down my rage; - In recompense of which my good intent - I have receiv'd this woful banishment. - Woful, said I? nay, happy I did mean, - If that be happy which doth set one free; - For by this means I do not doubt ere long - But Fausta shall with ease revenge her wrong. - Come, daughter, come: my mind foretelleth me - That Amurack shall soon requited be. - - -SCENE III.--_A Grove._ - - FAUSTA _and_ IPHIGENA _discovered; enter_ MEDEA, _meeting them._[46] - - _Medea._ Fausta, what means this sudden flight of yours? - Why do you leave your husband's princely court, - And all alone pass through these thickest groves, - More fit to harbour brutish savage beasts - Than to receive so high a queen as you? - Although your credit would not stay your steps - From bending them into these darkish dens, - Yet should the danger, which is imminent - To every one which passeth by these paths, - Keep you at home with fair Iphigena. - What foolish toy hath tickled you to this? - I greatly fear some hap hath hit amiss. - - _Fausta._ No toy, Medea, tickled Fausta's head, - Nor foolish fancy led me to these groves, - But earnest business eggs my trembling steps - To pass all dangers, whatsoe'er they be. - I banish'd am, Medea, I, which erst - Was empress over all the triple world, - Am banish'd now from palace and from pomp. - But if the gods be favourers to me, - Ere twenty days I will revengèd be. - - _Medea._ I thought as much, when first from thickest leaves - I saw you trudging in such posting pace. - But to the purpose: what may be the cause - Of this strange and sudden banishment? - - _Fausta._ The cause, ask you? A simple cause, God wot; - 'Twas neither treason, nor yet felony, - But for because I blam'd his foolishness. - - _Medea._ I hear you say so, but I greatly fear, - Ere that your tale be brought unto an end, - You'll prove yourself the author of the same. - But pray, be brief; what folly did your spouse? - And how will you revenge your wrong on him? - - _Fausta._ What folly, quoth you? Such as never yet - Was heard or seen, since Phœbus first 'gan shine. - You know how he was gathering in all haste - His men-at-arms, to set upon the troop - Of proud Alphonsus; yea, you well do know - How you and I did do the best we could - To make him show us in his drowsy dream - What afterward should happen in his wars. - Much talk he had, which now I have forgot; - But at the length this surely was decreed, - How that Alphonsus and Iphigena - Should be conjoin'd in Juno's sacred rites. - Which when I heard, as one that did despise - That such a traitor should be son to me, - I did rebuke my husband Amurack: - And since my words could take no better place, - My sword with help of all Amazones - Shall make him soon repent his foolishness. - - _Medea._ This is the cause, then, of your banishment? - And now you go unto Amazone - To gather all your maidens in array, - To set upon the mighty Amurack? - O foolish queen, what meant you by this talk? - Those prattling speeches have undone you all. - Do you disdain to have that mighty prince, - I mean Alphonsus, counted for your son? - I tell you, Fausta, he is born to be - The ruler of a mighty monarchy. - I must confess the powers of Amurack - Be great; his confines stretch both far and near; - Yet are they not the third part of the lands - Which shall be rulèd by Alphonsus' hands: - And yet you dain to call him son-in-law. - But when you see his sharp and cutting sword - Piercing the heart of this your gallant girl, - You'll curse the hour wherein you did denay - To join Alphonsus with Iphigena. - - _Fausta._ The gods forbid that e'er it happen so! - - _Medea._ Nay, never pray, for it must happen so. - - _Fausta._ And is there, then, no remedy for it? - - _Medea,_ No, none but one, and that you have forsworn. - - _Fausta._ As though an oath can bridle so my mind - As that I dare not break a thousand oaths - For to eschew the danger imminent! - Speak, good Medea, tell that way to me, - And I will do it, whatsoe'er it be. - - _Medea._ Then, as already you have well decreed, - Pack to your country, and in readiness - Select the army of Amazones: - When you have done, march with your female troop - To Naples' town, to succour Amurack: - And so, by marriage of Iphigena, - You soon shall drive the danger clean away. - - _Iphi._ So shall we soon eschew Charybdis' lake, - And headlong fall to Scylla's greedy gulf. - I vow'd before, and now do vow again, - Before I wed Alphonsus, I'll be slain. - - _Medea._ In vain it is to strive against the stream; - Fates must be follow'd, and the gods' decree - Must needs take place in every kind of cause. - Therefore, fair maid, bridle these brutish thoughts, - And learn to follow what the fates assign. - When Saturn heard that Jupiter his son - Should drive him headlong from his heavenly seat - Down to the bottom of the dark Avern, - He did command his mother presently - To do to death the young and guiltless child: - But what of that? the mother loath'd in heart - For to commit so vile a massacre; - Yea, Jove did live, and, as the fates did say, - From heavenly seat drave Saturn clean away. - What did avail the castle all of steel, - The which Acrisius causèd to be made - To keep his daughter Danaë clogg'd in? - She was with child for all her castle's force; - And by that child Acrisius, her sire, - Was after slain, so did the fates require. - A thousand examples I could bring hereof; - But marble stones need no colouring, - And that which every one doth know for truth - Needs no examples to confirm the same. - That which the fates appoint must happen so, - Though heavenly Jove and all the gods say no. - - _Fausta._ Iphigena, she sayeth naught but truth; - Fates must be follow'd in their just decrees; - And therefore, setting all delays aside, - Come, let us wend unto Amazone, - And gather up our forces out of hand. - - _Iphi._ Since Fausta wills and fates do so command, - Iphigena will never it withstand. - [_Exeunt._ - - - - -ACT THE FOURTH - - -PROLOGUE - - _Enter_ VENUS. - - _Venus._ Thus have you seen how Amurack himself, - Fausta his wife, and every other king - Which hold their sceptres at the Turk his hands, - Are now in arms, intending to destroy, - And bring to naught, the Prince of Arragon. - Charms have been us'd by wise Medea's art, - To know before what afterward shall hap; - And King Belinus, with high Claramont, - Join'd to Arcastus, which with princely pomp - Doth rule and govern all the warlike Moors, - Are sent as legates to God Mahomet, - To know his counsel in these high affairs. - Mahound, provok'd by Amurack's discourse, - Which, as you heard, he in his dream did use, - Denies to play the prophet any more; - But, by the long entreaty of his priests, - He prophesies in such a crafty sort - As that the hearers needs must laugh for sport. - Yet poor Belinus, with his fellow kings, - Did give such credence to that forgèd tale - As that they lost their dearest lives thereby, - And Amurack became a prisoner - Unto Alphonsus, as straight shall appear. - [_Exit._ - - -SCENE I.--_The Temple of_ MAHOMET. - - _Let there be a Brazen Head set in the middle of the place behind the - stage, out of the which cast flames of fire; drums rumble within. - Enter two_ Priests. - - _First Pr._ My fellow priest of Mahound's holy house, - What can you judge of these strange miracles - Which daily happen in this sacred seat? - [_Drums rumble within._ - Hark, what a rumbling rattleth in our ears! - [_Flames of fire are cast forth of the Brazen Head._ - See flakes of fire proceeding from the mouth - Of Mahomet, that god of peerless power! - Nor can I tell, with all the wit I have, - What Mahomet, by these his signs, doth crave. - - _Sec. Pr._ Thrice ten times Phœbus with his golden beams - Hath compassèd the circle of the sky, - Thrice ten times Ceres hath her workmen hir'd, - And fill'd her barns with fruitful crops of corn, - Since first in priesthood I did lead my life; - Yet in this time I never heard before - Such fearful sounds, nor saw such wondrous sights; - Nor can I tell, with all the wit I have, - What Mahomet, by these his signs, doth crave. - - _Mahomet_ [_speaking out of the Brazen Head_]. - You cannot tell, nor will you seek to know: - O perverse priests, how careless are you wax'd, - As when my foes approach unto my gates, - You stand still talking of "I cannot tell!" - Go pack you hence, and meet the Turkish kings - Which now are drawing to my temple ward; - Tell them from me, God Mahomet is dispos'd - To prophesy no more to Amurack, - Since that his tongue is waxen now so free, - As that it needs must chat and rail at me. - [_The_ Priests _kneel._ - - _First Pr._ O Mahomet, if all the solemn prayers - Which from our childhood we have offer'd thee, - Can make thee call this sentence back again, - Bring not thy priests into this dangerous state! - For when the Turk doth hear of this repulse, - We shall be sure to die the death therefóre. - - _Mahomet_ [_speaking out of the Brazen Head_]. - Thou sayest truth; go call the princes in: - I'll prophesy unto them for this once; - But in such wise as they shall neither boast, - Nor you be hurt in any kind of wise. - - _Enter_ BELINUS, CLARAMONT, ARCASTUS _and_ FABIUS, _conducted by the_ - Priests. - - _First Pr._ You kings of Turkey, Mahomet our god, - By sacred science having notice that - You were sent legates from high Amurack - Unto this place, commanded us, his priests, - That we should cause you make as mickle speed - As well you might, to hear for certainty - Of that shall happen to your king and ye. - - _Beli._ For that intent we came into this place; - And sithens that the mighty Mahomet - Is now at leisure for to tell the same, - Let us make haste and take time while we may, - For mickle danger happeneth through delay. - - _Sec. Pr._ Truth, worthy king, and therefore you yourself, - With your companions, kneel before this place, - And listen well what Mahomet doth say. - - _Beli._ As you do will, we jointly will obey. - [_All kneel down before the Brazen Head._ - - _Mahomet_ [_speaking out of the Brazen Head_]. - Princes of Turkey, and ambassadors - Of Amurack to mighty Mahomet, - I needs must muse that you, which erst have been - The readiest soldiers of the triple world, - Are now become so slack in your affairs - As, when you should with bloody blade in hand - Be hacking helms in thickest of your foes, - You stand still loitering in the Turkish soil. - What, know you not how that it is decreed - By all the gods, and chiefly by myself, - That you with triumph should all crownèd be? - Make haste, kings, lest when the fates do see - How carelessly you do neglect their words, - They call a council, and force Mahomet - Against his will some other things to set. - Send Fabius back to Amurack again, - To haste him forwards in his enterprise; - And march you on, with all the troops you have, - To Naples ward, to conquer Arragon, - For if you stay, both you and all your men - Must needs be sent down straight to Limbo-den. - - _Sec. Pr._ Muse not, brave kings, at Mahomet's discourse, - For mark what he forth of that mouth doth say, - Assure yourselves it needs must happen so. - Therefore make haste, go mount you on your steeds, - And set upon Alphonsus presently: - So shall you reap great honour for your pain, - And 'scape the scourge which else the fates ordain. - [_All rise up._ - - _Beli._ Then, proud Alphonsus, look thou to thy crown: - Belinus comes, in glittering armour clad, - All ready prest[47] for to revenge the wrong - Which, not long since, you offer'd unto him; - And since we have God Mahound on our side, - The victory must needs to us betide. - - _Cla._ Worthy Belinus, set such threats away, - And let us haste as fast as horse can trot - To set upon presumptuous Arragon.-- - You, Fabius, haste, as Mahound did command, - To Amurack with all the speed you may. - - _Fabi._ With willing mind I hasten on my way. - [_Exit._ - - _Beli._ And thinking long till that we be in fight, - Belinus hastes to quail Alphonsus' might. [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE II.--_Near Naples._ - - _Alarum awhile. Enter_ CARINUS. - - _Cari._ No sooner had God Phœbus' brightsome beams - Begun to dive within the western seas, - And darksome Nox had spread about the earth - Her blackish mantle, but a drowsy sleep - Did take possession of Carinus' sense, - And Morpheus show'd me strange disguisèd shapes. - Methought I saw Alphonsus, my dear son, - Plac'd in a throne all glittering clear with gold, - Bedeck'd with diamonds, pearls, and precious stones, - Which shin'd so clear, and glitter'd all so bright, - Hyperion's coach that well be term'd it might. - Above his head a canopy was set, - Not deck'd with plumes, as other princes use, - But all beset with heads of conquer'd kings, - Enstall'd with crowns, which made a gallant show, - And struck a terror to the viewers' hearts. - Under his feet lay grovelling on the ground - Thousands of princes, which he in his wars - By martial might did conquer and bring low: - Some lay as dead as either stock or stone, - Some other tumbled, wounded to the death; - But most of them, as to their sovereign king, - Did offer duly homage unto him. - As thus I stood beholding of this pomp, - Methought Alphonsus did espy me out, - And, at a trice, he leaving throne alone, - Came to embrace me in his blessèd arms. - Then noise of drums and sound of trumpets shrill - Did wake Carinus from this pleasant dream. - Something, I know, is now foreshown by this: - The gods forfend that aught should hap amiss! - [CARINUS _walks up and down._ - - _Enter the_ DUKE OF MILAN _in pilgrim's apparel._ - - _Duke of M._ This is the chance of fickle Fortune's wheel; - A prince at morn, a pilgrim ere't be night; - I, which erewhile did dain for to possess - The proudest palace of the western world, - Would now be glad a cottage for to find, - To hide my head; so Fortune hath assign'd. - Thrice Hesperus with pomp and peerless pride - Hath heav'd his head forth of the eastern seas, - Thrice Cynthia, with Phœbus' borrow'd beams, - Hath shown her beauty through the darkish clouds, - Since that I, wretched duke, have tasted aught, - Or drunk a drop of any kind of drink. - Instead of beds set forth with ebony, - The greenish grass hath been my resting-place, - And for my pillow stuff'd with down, - The hardish hillocks have suffic'd my turn. - Thus I, which erst had all things at my will, - A life more hard then death do follow still. - - _Cari._ [_aside_]. Methinks I hear, not very far from hence, - Some woful wight lamenting his mischance: - I'll go and see if that I can espy - Him where he sits, or overhear his talk. - - _Duke of M._ O Milan, Milan, little dost thou think, - How that thy duke is now in such distress! - For if thou didst, I soon should be releas'd - Forth of this greedy gulf of misery. - - _Cari._ [_aside_]. The Milan Duke! I thought as much before, - When first I glanc'd mine eyes upon his face. - This is the man which was the only cause - That I was forc'd to fly from Arragon. - High Jove be prais'd which hath allotted me - So fit a time to quite that injury.-- - Pilgrim, God speed. - - _Duke of M._ Welcome, grave sir, to me. - - _Cari._ Methought as now I heard you for to speak - Of Milan-land: pray, do you know the same? - - _Duke of M._ Ay, aged father, I have cause to know - Both Milan-land and all the parts thereof. - - _Cari._ Why, then, I doubt not but you can resolve - Me of a question that I shall demand. - - _Duke of M._ Ay, that I can, whatever that it be. - - _Cari._ Then, to be brief: not twenty winters past, - When these my limbs, which wither'd are with age, - Were in the prime and spring of all their youth, - I, still desirous, as young gallants be, - To see the fashions of Arabia, - My native soil, and in this pilgrim's weed, - Began to travel through unkennèd lands. - Much ground I pass'd, and many soils I saw; - But when my feet in Milan-land I set, - Such sumptuous triumphs daily there I saw - As never in my life I found the like. - I pray, good sir, what might the occasion be, - That made the Milans make such mirth and glee? - - _Duke of M._ This solemn joy whereof you now do speak, - Was not solémnisèd, my friend, in vain; - For at that time there came into the land - The happiest tidings that they e'er did hear; - For news was brought upon that solemn day - Unto our court, that Ferdinandus proud - Was slain himself, Carinus and his son - Was banish'd both for e'er from Arragon; - And for these happy news that joy was made. - - _Cari._ But what, I pray, did afterward become - Of old Carinus with his banish'd son? - What, hear you nothing of them all this while? - - _Duke of M._ Yes, too-too much, the Milan Duke may say. - Alphonsus first by secret means did get - To be a soldier in Belinus' wars, - Wherein he did behave himself so well - As that he got the crown of Arragon; - Which being got, he dispossess'd also - The King Belinus which had foster'd him. - As for Carinus he is dead and gone: - I would his son were his companion. - - _Cari._ A blister build upon that traitor's tongue! - But, for thy friendship which thou showed'st me, - Take that of me, I frankly give it thee. - [_Stabs the_ DUKE OF MILAN, _who dies._ - Now will I haste to Naples with all speed, - To see if Fortune will so favour me - To view Alphonsus in his happy state. - - -SCENE III.--_Camp of_ AMURACK, _near Naples._ - - _Enter_ AMURACK, CROCON, FAUSTUS _and_ FABIUS, _with the_ Provost _and - Turkish_ Janissaries. - - _Amu._ Fabius, come hither: what is that thou sayest? - What did God Mahound prophesy to us? - Why do our viceroys wend unto the wars - Before their king had notice of the same? - What, do they think to play bob-fool with me? - Or are they wax'd so frolic now of late, - Since that they had the leading of our bands, - As that they think that mighty Amurack - Dares do no other than to soothe them up? - Why speak'st thou not? what fond or frantic fit - Did make those careless kings to venture it? - - _Fabi._ Pardon, dear lord; no frantic fit at all, - No frolic vein, nor no presumptuous mind, - Did make your viceroys take these wars in hand: - But forc'd they were by Mahound's prophecy - To do the same, or else resolve to die. - - _Amu._ So, sir, I hear you, but can scarce believe - That Mahomet would charge them go before, - Against Alphonsus with so small a troop, - Whose number far exceeds King Xerxes' troop. - - _Fabi._ Yes, noble lord, and more than that, he said - That, ere that you, with these your warlike men, - Should come to bring your succour to the field, - Belinus, Claramont, and Arcastus too - Should all be crown'd with crowns of beaten gold, - And borne with triumph round about their tents. - - _Amu._ With triumph, man! did Mahound tell them so?-- - Provost, go carry Fabius presently - Unto the Marshalsea;[48] there let him rest, - Clapt sure and safe in fetters all of steel, - Till Amurack discharge him from the same; - For be he sure, unless it happen so - As he did say Mahound did prophesy, - By this my hand forthwith the slave shall die. - [_They lay hold of_ FABIUS, _and make as though to carry him out._ - - _Enter a_ Messenger. - - _Mess._ Stay, Provost, stay, let Fabius alone: - More fitteth now that every lusty lad - Be buckling on his helmet, than to stand - In carrying soldiers to the Marshalsea. - - _Amu._ Why, what art thou, that darest once presume - For to gainsay that Amurack did bid? - - _Mess._ I am, my lord, the wretched'st man alive, - Born underneath the planet of mishap; - Erewhile, a soldier of Belinus' band, - But now-- - - _Amu._ What now? - - _Mess._ The mirror of mishap; - Whose captain's slain, and all his army dead, - Only excepted me, unhappy wretch. - - _Amu._ What news is this! and is Belinus slain? - Is this the crown which Mahomet did say - He should with triumph wear upon his head? - Is this the honour which that cursèd god - Did prophesy should happen to them all? - O Dædalus, an wert thou now alive, - To fasten wings upon high Amurack, - Mahound should know, and that for certainty, - That Turkish kings can brook no injury! - - _Fabi._ Tush, tush, my lord; I wonder what you mean, - Thus to exclaim against high Mahomet: - I'll lay my life that, ere this day be past, - You shall perceive his tidings all be waste. - - _Amu._ We shall perceive, accursèd Fabius! - Suffice it not that thou hast been the man - That first didst beat those baubles in my brain, - But that, to help me forward in my grief, - Thou seekest to confirm so foul a lie? - Go, get thee hence, and tell thy traitorous king - What gift you had, which did such tidings bring.-- - [_Stabs_ FABIUS, _who dies._ - And now, my lords, since nothing else will serve, - Buckle your helms, clap on your steelèd coats, - Mount on your steeds, take lances in your hands; - For Amurack doth mean this very day - Proud Mahomet with weapons to assay. - - _Mess._ Mercy, high monarch! it is no time now - To spend the day in such vain threatenings - Against our god, the mighty Mahomet: - More fitteth thee to place thy men-at-arms - In battle 'ray, for to withstand your foes, - Which now are drawing towards you with speed. - [_Drums sounded within._ - Hark, how their drums with dub-a-dub do come! - To arms, high lord, and set these trifles by, - That you may set upon them valiantly. - - _Amu._ And do they come? you kings of Turkey-[land], - Now is the time in which your warlike arms - Must raise your names above the starry skies. - Call to your mind your predecessors' acts, - Whose martial might, this many a hundred year, - Did keep those fearful dogs in dread and awe, - And let your weapons show Alphonsus plain, - That though that they be clappèd up in clay, - Yet there be branches sprung up from those trees, - In Turkish land, which brook no injuries. - Besides the same, remember with yourselves - What foes we have; not mighty Tamburlaine, - Nor soldiers trainèd up amongst the wars, - But fearful boors, pick'd from their rural flock, - Which, till this time, were wholly ignorant - What weapons meant, or bloody Mars doth crave. - More would I say, but horses that be free - Do need no spurs, and soldiers which themselves - Long and desire to buckle with the foe, - Do need no words to egg them to the same. - - _Enter_ ALPHONSUS, _with a canopy carried over him by three_ Lords, - _having over each corner a king's head crowned; with him_ ALBINIUS, - LÆLIUS _and_ MILES _with crowns on their heads, and their_ Soldiers. - - Besides the same, behold whereas our foes - Are marching towards us most speedily. - Courage, my lords, ours is the victory. - - _Alphon._ Thou pagan dog, how dar'st thou be so bold - To set thy foot within Alphonsus' land? - What, art thou come to view thy wretched kings, - Whose traitorous heads bedeck my tent so well? - Or else, thou hearing that on top thereof - There is a place left vacant, art thou come - To have thy head possess the highest seat? - If it be so, lie down, and this my sword - Shall presently that honour thee afford. - If not, pack hence, or by the heavens I vow, - Both thou and thine shall very soon perceive - That he that seeks to move my patience - Must yield his life to me for recompense. - - _Amu._ Why, proud Alphonsus, think'st thou Amurack, - Whose mighty force doth terrify the gods, - Can e'er be found to turn his heels, and fly - Away for fear from such a boy as thou? - No, no, although that Mars this mickle while - Hath fortified thy weak and feeble arm, - And Fortune oft hath view'd with friendly face - Thy armies marching victors from the field, - Yet at the presence of high Amurack - Fortune shall change, and Mars, that god of might, - Shall succour me, and leave Alphonsus quite. - - _Alphon._ Pagan, I say thou greatly art deceiv'd: - I clap up Fortune in a cage of gold, - To make her turn her wheel as I think best; - And as for Mars whom you do say will change, - He moping sits behind the kitchen-door, - Prest at command of every scullion's mouth, - Who dares not stir, nor once to move a whit, - For fear Alphonsus then should stomach it. - - _Amu._ Blasp-hém-ous dog, I wonder that the earth - Doth cease from renting underneath thy feet, - To swallow up that canker'd corpse of thine. - I muse that Jove can bridle so his ire - As, when he hears his brother so misus'd, - He can refrain from sending thunderbolts - By thick and threefold, to revenge his wrong. - Mars fight for me, and fortune be my guide! - And I'll be victor, whatsome'er betide. - - _Albi._ Pray loud enough,[49] lest that you pray in vain: - Perhaps God Mars and Fortune are asleep. - - _Amu._ An Mars lies slumbering on his downy bed, - Yet do not think but that the power we have, - Without the help of those celestial gods, - Will be sufficient, yea, with small ado, - Alphonsus' straggling army to subdue. - - _Læli._ You had need as then to call for Mahomet, - With hellish hags to perform the same. - - _Faustus._ High Amurack, I wonder what you mean, - That, when you may, with little toil or none, - Compel these dogs to keep their tongues in peace, - You let them stand still barking in this sort: - Believe me, sovereign, I do blush to see - These beggar's brats to chat so frolicly. - - _Alphon._ How now, sir boy! Let Amurack himself, - Or any he, the proudest of you all, - But offer once for to unsheath his sword, - If that he dares, for all the power you have. - - _Amu._ What, dar'st thou us? myself will venture it.-- - To arms, my mate! - - [AMURACK _draws his sword_; ALPHONSUS _and all the other_ Kings _draw - theirs. Alarum;_ AMURACK _and his company fly, followed by_ ALPHONSUS - _and his company._ - - - - -ACT THE FIFTH - - -PROLOGUE - - _Alarum. Enter_ VENUS. - - _Venus._ Fierce is the fight, and bloody is the broil. - No sooner had the roaring cannon shot - Spit forth the venom of their firèd paunch, - And with their pellets sent such troops of souls - Down to the bottom of the dark Avern, - As that it cover'd all the Stygian fields; - But, on a sudden, all the men-at-arms, - Which mounted were on lusty coursers' backs, - Did rush together with so great a noise - As that I thought the giants one time more - Did scale the heavens, as erst they did before. - Long time dame Fortune temper'd so her wheel - As that there was no vantage to be seen - On any side, but equal was the gain; - But at the length, so God and Fates decreed, - Alphonsus was the victor of the field, - And Amurack became his prisoner; - Who so remain'd, until his daughter came, - And by her marrying did his pardon frame. [_Exit._ - - -SCENE I.--_A Battle-field near Naples._ - - _Alarum:_ AMURACK _flies, followed by_ ALPHONSUS, _who takes him - prisoner and carries him in. Alarum: as_ CROCON _and_ FAUSTUS _are - flying, enter_ FAUSTA _and_ IPHIGENA, _with their army, meeting them._ - - _Fausta._ You Turkish kings, what sudden flight is this? - What mean the men, which for their valiant prowess - Were dreaded erst clean through the triple world, - Thus cowardly to turn their backs and fly? - What froward fortune happen'd on your side? - I hope your king in safety doth abide? - - _Cro._ Ay, noble madam, Amurack doth live, - And long I hope he shall enjoy his life; - But yet I fear, unless more succour come, - We shall both lose our king and sovereign. - - _Fausta._ How so, King Crocon? dost thou speak in jest, - To prove if Fausta would lament his death? - Or else hath anything hapt him amiss? - Speak quickly, Crocon, what the cause might be, - That thou dost utter forth these words to me. - - _Cro._ Then, worthy Fausta, know that Amurack - Our mighty king, and your approvèd spouse, - Prick'd with desire of everlasting fame, - As he was pressing in the thickest ranks - Of Arragonians, was, with much ado, - At length took prisoner by Alphonsus' hands. - So that, unless you succour soon do bring, - You lose your spouse, and we shall want our king. - - _Iphi._ O hapless hap, O dire and cruel fate! - What injury hath Amurack, my sire, - Done to the gods, which now I know are wroth, - Although unjustly and without a cause? - For well I wot, not any other king, - Which now doth live, or since the world begun - Did sway a sceptre, had a greater care - To please the gods than mighty Amurack: - And for to quite our father's great good-will, - Seek they thus basely all his fame to spill? - - _Fausta._ Iphigena, leave off these woful tunes: - It is not words can cure and case this wound, - But warlike swords; not tears, but sturdy spears. - High Amurack is prisoner to our foes: - What then? Think you that our Amazones, - Join'd with the forces of the Turkish troop, - Are not sufficient for to set him free? - Yes, daughter, yes, I mean not for to sleep - Until he is free, or we him company keep.-- - March on, my mates. [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE II.--_Another Part of the Field._ - - _Alarum: enter_ ALPHONSUS _in flight, followed by_ IPHIGENA. - - _Iphi._ How now, Alphonsus! you which never yet - Could meet your equal in the feats of arms, - How haps it now that in such sudden sort - You fly the presence of a silly maid? - What, have you found mine arm of such a force - As that you think your body over-weak - For to withstand the fury of my blows? - Or do you else disdain to fight with me, - For staining of your high nobility? - - _Alphon._ No, dainty dame, I would not have thee think - That ever thou or any other wight - Shall live to see Alphonsus fly the field - From any king or keisar whosome'er: - First will I die in thickest of my foe, - Before I will disbase mine honour so. - Nor do I scorn, thou goddess, for to stain - My prowess with thee, although it be a shame - For knights to combat with the female sect:[50] - But love, sweet mouse, hath so benumbed my wit, - That, though I would, I must refrain from it. - - _Iphi._ I thought as much when first I came to wars; - Your noble acts were fitter to be writ - Within the tables of Dame Venus' son, - Than in God Mars his warlike registers: - Whenas your lords are hacking helms abroad, - And make their spears to shiver in the air, - Your mind is busied in fond Cupid's toys. - Come on, i' faith, I'll teach you for to know - We came to fight, and not to love, I trow. - - _Alphon._ Nay, virgin, stay. An if thou wilt vouchsafe - To entertain Alphonsus' simple suit, - Thou shalt ere long be monarch of the world: - All christen'd kings, with all your pagan dogs, - Shall bend their knees unto Iphigena; - The Indian soil shall be thine at command, - Where every step thou settest on the ground - Shall be receivèd on the golden mines; - Rich Pactolus,[51] that river of account, - Which doth descend from top of Tmolus Mount, - Shall be thine own, and all the world beside, - If you will grant to be Alphonsus' bride. - - _Iphi._ Alphonsus' bride! nay, villain, do not think - That fame or riches can so rule my thoughts - As for to make me love and fancy him - Whom I do hate, and in such sort despise, - As, if my death could bring to pass his bane, - I would not long from Pluto's port remain. - - _Alphon._ Nay, then, proud peacock, since thou art so stout - As that entreaty will not move thy mind - For to consent to be my wedded spouse, - Thou shalt, in spite of gods and fortune too, - Serve high Alphonsus as a concubine. - - _Iphi._ I'll rather die than ever that shall hap. - -_Alphon._ And thou shalt die unless it come to pass. -[ALPHONSUS _and_ IPHIGENA _fight._ IPHIGENA _flies followed by_ -ALPHONSUS. - - -SCENE III.--_The Camp of_ ALPHONSUS. - - _Alarum. Enter_ ALPHONSUS _with his rapier,_ ALBINIUS, LÆLIUS, MILES, - _with their_ Soldiers; AMURACK, FAUSTA, IPHIGENA, CROCON, _and_ - FAUSTUS, _all bound, with their hands behind them._ AMURACK _looks - angrily on_ FAUSTA. - - _Enter_ MEDEA. - - _Medea._ Nay, Amurack, this is no time to jar: - Although thy wife did, in her frantic mood, - Use speeches which might better have been spar'd, - Yet do thou not judge this same time to be - A season to requite that injury. - More fitteth thee, with all the wit thou hast, - To call to mind which way thou mayst release - Thyself, thy wife, and fair Iphigena, - Forth of the power of stout Alphonsus' hands; - For, well I wot, since first you breathèd breath, - You never were so nigh the snares of death. - Now, Amurack, your high and kingly seat, - Your royal sceptre, and your stately crown, - Your mighty country, and your men-at-arms, - Be conquer'd all, and can no succour bring. - Put, then, no trust in these same paltry toys, - But call to mind that thou a prisoner art, - Clapt up in chains, whose life and death depend - Upon the hands of thy most mortal foe. - Then take thou heed, that whatsome'er he say, - Thou dost not once presume for to gainsay. - - _Amu._ Away, you fool! think you your cursèd charms - Can bridle so the mind of Amurack - As that he will stand crouching to his foe? - No, no, be sure that, if that beggar's brat - Do dare but once to contrary my will, - I'll make him soon in heart for to repent - That e'er such words 'gainst Amurack he spent. - - _Medea._ Then, since thou dost disdain my good advice, - Look to thyself, and if you fare amiss, - Remember that Medea counsel gave, - Which might you safe from all those perils save. - But, Fausta, you, as well you have begun, - Beware you follow still your friend's advice: - If that Alphonsus do desire of thee - To have your daughter for his wedded spouse, - Beware you do not once the same gainsay, - Unless with death he do your rashness pay. - - _Fausta._ No, worthy wight; first Fausta means to die - Before Alphonsus she will contrary. - - _Medea._ Why, then, farewell.--But you, Iphigena, - Beware you do not over-squeamish wax, - Whenas your mother giveth her consent. - - _Iphi._ The gods forbid that e'er I should gainsay - That which Medea bids me to obey. [_Exit_ MEDEA. - - ALPHONSUS, _who all this while has been talking to_ ALBINIUS, _rises - up out of his chair._ - - _Alphon._ Now, Amurack, the proud blasphémous dogs, - For so you term'd us, which did brawl and rail - Against God Mars, and fickle Fortune's wheel, - Have got the goal for all your solemn prayers. - Yourself are prisoner, which as then did think - That all the forces of the triple world - Were insufficient to fulfil the same. - How like you this? Is Fortune of such might, - Or hath God Mars such force or power divine, - As that he can, with all the power he hath, - Set thee and thine forth of Alphonsus' hands? - I do not think but that your hope's so small - As that you would with very willing mind - Yield for my spouse the fair Iphigena, - On that condition, that without delay - Fausta and you may scot-free 'scape away. - - _Amu._ What, think'st thou, villain, that high Amurack - Bears such a mind as, for the fear of death, - He'll yield his daughter, yea, his only joy, - Into the hands of such a dunghill-knight? - No, traitor, no; for [though] as now I lie - Clapt up in irons and with bolts of steel, - Yet do there lurk within the Turkish soil - Such troops of soldiers that, with small ado, - They'll set me scot-free from your men and you. - - _Alphon._ "Villain," say'st thou? "traitor" and "dunghill-knight"? - Now, by the heavens, since that thou dost deny - For to fulfil that which in gentle wise - Alphonsus craves, both thou and all thy train - Shall with your lives requite that injury.-- - Albinius, lay hold of Amurack, - And carry him to prison presently, - There to remain until I do return - Into my tent; for by high Jove I vow, - Unless he wax more calmer out of hand, - His head amongst his fellow-kings shall stand. - - _Amu._ No, villain, think not that the fear of death - Shall make me calmer while I draw my breath. - [_Exit in custody of_ ALBINIUS. - - _Alphon._ Now, Lælius, take you Iphigena, - Her mother Fausta, with these other kings, - And put them into prisons severally; - For Amurack's stout stomach shall undo - Both he himself and all his other crew. - - _Fausta_ [_kneeling_]. O sacred prince, if that the salt brine tears, - Distilling down poor Fausta's wither'd cheeks, - Can mollify the hardness of your heart, - Lessen this judgment, which thou in thy rage - Hast given on thy luckless prisoners. - - _Alphon._ Woman, away! my word is gone and past; - Now, if I would, I cannot call it back. - You might have yielded at my first demand, - And then you needed not to fear this hap.-- - [FAUSTA _rises._ - Lælius make haste, and go thou presently - For to fulfil that I commanded thee. - - _Iphi_ [_kneeling_]. Mighty Alphonsus, since my mother's suit - Is so rejected that in any case - You will not grant us pardon for her sake, - I now will try if that my woful prayers - May plead for pity at your grace's feet. - When first you did, amongst the thickest ranks, - All clad in glittering arms encounter me, - You know yourself what love you did protest - You then did bear unto Iphigena: - Then for that love, if any love you had, - Revoke this sentence, which is too-too bad. - - _Alphon._ No, damsel; he that will not when he may, - When he desires, shall surely purchase nay: - If that you had, when first I proffer made, - Yielded to me, mark, what I promis'd you - I would have done; but since you did deny, - Look for denial at Alphonsus' hands. - [IPHIGENA _rises, and stands aside._ ALPHONSUS _talks with_ ALBINIUS. - - _Enter_ CARINUS _in pilgrim's apparel._ - - _Cari._ [_aside_]. O friendly Fortune, now thou show'st thy power - In raising up my son from banish'd state - Unto the top of thy most mighty wheel! - But, what be these which at his sacred feet - Do seem to plead for mercy at his hands? - I'll go and sift this matter to the full. - [_Goes toward_ ALPHONSUS, _and speaks to one of his soldiers._ - Sir knight, an may a pilgrim be so bold - To put your person to such mickle pain - For to inform me what great king is this, - And what these be, which, in such woful sort, - Do seem to seek for mercy at his hands? - - _Sol._ Pilgrim, the king that sits on stately throne - Is call'd Alphonsus; and this matron hight - Fausta, the wife to Amurack the Turk; - That is their daughter, fair Iphigena; - Both which, together with the Turk himself, - He did take prisoners in a battle fought. - - _Alphon._ [_spying out_ CARINUS]. - And can the gods be found so kind to me - As that Carinus now I do espy? - 'Tis he indeed.--Come on, Albinius: - The mighty conquest which I have achiev'd, - And victories the which I oft have won, - Bring not such pleasure to Alphonsus' heart - As now my father's presence doth impart. - [ALPHONSUS _and_ ALBINIUS _go toward_ CARINUS: ALPHONSUS _stands - looking on him._ - - _Cari._ What, ne'er a word, Alphonsus? art thou dumb? - Or doth my presence so perturb thy mind - That, for because I come in pilgrim's weed, - You think each word which you do spend to me - A great disgrace unto your name to be? - Why speak'st thou not? if that my place you crave, - I will be gone, and you my place shall have. - - _Alphon._ Nay, father, stay; the gods of heaven forbid - That e'er Alphonsus should desire or wish - To have his absence whom he doth account - To be the loadstar[52] of his life! - What, though the Fates and Fortune, both in one, - Have been content to call your loving son - From beggar's state unto this princely seat, - Should I therefore disdain my agèd sire? - No, first both crown and life I will detest, - Before such venom breed within my breast. - What erst I did, the sudden joy I took - To see Carinus in such happy state, - Did make me do, and nothing else at all, - High Jove himself do I to witness call. - - _Cari._ These words are vain; I knew as much before. - But yet, Alphonsus, I must wonder needs - That you, whose years are prone to Cupid's snares, - Can suffer such a goddess as this dame - Thus for to shed such store of crystal tears. - Believe me, son, although my years be spent, - Her sighs and sobs in twain my heart do rent. - - _Alphon._ Like power, dear father, had she over me, - Until for love I looking to receive - Love back again, not only was denied, - But also taunted in most spiteful sort: - Which made me loathe that which I erst did love, - As she herself, with all her friends, shall prove. - - _Cari._ How now, Alphonsus! you which have so long - Been trainèd up in bloody broils of Mars, - What, know you not that castles are not won - At first assault, and women are not woo'd - When first their suitors proffer love to them? - As for my part, I should account that maid - A wanton wench, unconstant, lewd, and light, - That yields the field before she venture fight; - Especially unto her mortal foe, - As you were then unto Iphigena. - But, for because I see you fitter are - To enter lists and combat with your foes - Than court fair ladies in God Cupid's tents, - Carinus means your spokesman for to be, - And if that she consent, you shall agree. - - _Alphon._ What you command Alphonsus must not fly, - Though otherwise perhaps he would deny. - - _Cari._ Then, dainty damsel, stint these trickling tears, - Cease sighs and sobs, yea, make a merry cheer; - Your pardon is already purchasèd, - So that you be not over-curious[53] - In granting to Alphonsus' just demand. - - _Iphi._ Thanks, mighty prince; no curioser I'll be - Than doth become a maid of my degree. - - _Cari._ The gods forbid that e'er Carinus' tongue - Should go about to make a maid consent - Unto the thing which modesty denies: - That which I ask is neither hurt to thee, - Danger to parents, nor disgrace to friends, - But good and honest, and will profit bring - To thee and those which lean unto that thing. - And that is this:--since first Alphonsus' eyes - Did hap to glance upon your heavenly hue, - And saw the rare perfection of the same, - He hath desirèd to become your spouse: - Now, if you will unto the same agree, - I dare assure you that you shall be free. - - _Iphi._ Pardon, dear lord; the world goes very hard - When womenkind are forcèd for to woo. - If that your son had lovèd me so well, - Why did he not inform me of the same? - - _Cari._ Why did he not! what, have you clean forgot - What ample proffers he did make to you, - When, hand to hand, he did encounter you? - - _Iphi._ No, worthy sir, I have not it forgot; - But Cupid cannot enter in the breast - Where Mars before had took possession: - That was no time to talk of Venus' games - When all our fellows were press'd in the wars. - - _Cari._ Well, let that pass: now canst thou be content - To love Alphonsus and become his spouse? - - _Iphi._ Ay, if the high Alphonsus could vouchsafe - To entertain me as his wedded spouse. - - _Alphon._ If that he could! what, dost thou doubt of that? - Jason did jet[54] whenas he had obtain'd - The golden fleece by wise Medea's art; - The Greeks rejoicèd when they had subdu'd - The famous bulwarks of most stately Troy; - But all their mirth was nothing in respect - Of this my joy, since that I now have got - That which I long desirèd in my heart. - - _Cari._ But what says Fausta to her daughter's choice? - - _Fausta._ Fausta doth say, the gods have been her friends, - To let her live to see Iphigena - Bestowèd so unto her heart's content. - - _Alphon._ Thanks, mighty empress, for your gentleness, - And, if Alphonsus can at any time - With all his power requite this courtesy, - You shall perceive how kindly he doth take - Your forwardness in this his happy chance. - - _Cari._ Albinius, go call forth Amurack: - We'll see what he doth say unto this match. - [ALBINIUS _brings forth_ AMURACK. - Most mighty Turk, I, with my warlike son - Alphonsus, loathing that so great a prince - As you should live in such unseemly sort, - Have sent for you to proffer life or death; - Life, if you do consent to our demand, - And death, if that you dare gainsay the same. - Your wife, high Fausta, with Iphigena, - Have given consent that this my warlike son - Should have your daughter for his bedfellow: - Now resteth naught but that you do agree, - And so to purchase sure tranquillity. - - _Amu._ [_aside_]. Now, Amurack, advise thee what thou say'st; - Bethink thee well what answer thou wilt make: - Thy life and death dependeth on thy words. - If thou deny to be Alphonsus' sire, - Death is thy share; but if that thou consent, - Thy life is sav'd. Consent! nay, rather die: - Should I consent to give Iphigena - Into the hands of such a beggar's brat? - What, Amurack, thou dost deceive thyself; - Alphonsus is the son unto a king: - What then? then worthy of thy daughter's love. - She is agreed, and Fausta is content; - Then Amurack will not be discontent. - [_Takes_ IPHIGENA _by the hand, and gives her to_ ALPHONSUS. - Here, brave Alphonsus, take thou at my hand - Iphigena, I give her unto thee; - And for her dowry, when her father dies, - Thou shalt possess the Turkish empery. - Take her, I say, and live King Nestor's years: - So would the Turk and all his noble peers. - - _Alphon._ Immortal thanks I give unto your grace. - - _Cari._ Now, worthy princes, since, by help of Jove, - On either side the wedding is decreed, - Come, let us wend to Naples speedily - For to solémnise it with mirth and glee. - - _Amu._ As you do will, we jointly do agree. - [_Exeunt omnes._ - - - - -EPILOGUE - - _Enter_ VENUS _with the_ Muses. - - _Venus._ Now, worthy Muses, with unwilling mind - Venus is forc'd to trudge to heaven again, - For Jupiter, that god of peerless power, - Proclaimed hath a solemn festival - In honour of Dame Danaë's luckless death; - Unto the which, in pain of his displeasure, - He hath invited all the immortal gods - And goddesses, so that I must be there, - Unless I will his high displeasure bear. - You see Alphonsus hath, with much ado, - At length obtained fair Iphigena, - Of Amurack her father, for his wife; - Who now are going to the temple wards, - For to perform Dame Juno's sacred rites; - Where we will leave them, till the feast be done, - Which, in the heavens, by this time is begun. - Meantime, dear Muses, wander you not far - Forth of the path of high Parnassus' hill, - That, when I come to finish up his life,[55] - You may be ready for to succour me: - Adieu, dear dames; farewell, Calliope. - - _Cal._ Adieu, you sacred goddess of the sky. - [_Exit_ VENUS; _or, if you can conveniently, let a chair come down - from the top of the stage, and draw her up._ - Well, loving sisters, since that she is gone, - Come, let us haste unto Parnassus' hill, - As Cytherea did lately will. - - _Melpom._ Then make you haste her mind for to fulfil. - [_Exeunt omnes, playing on their instruments._ - - - - -A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON AND ENGLAND - - -_A Looking-Glass for London and England_ is first mentioned in -Henslowe's _Diary_ as performed by Lord Strange's servants, 8th March -1592. At this time it was not a new play, and it is probable that it -had first belonged to the Queen's players, to whom Greene was attached, -and that it was by them turned over to Strange's company along with -several other plays when the Queen's company went to the provinces -in 1591. Henslowe records four performances of the play between 8th -March and 7th June 1592. It was printed by Thomas Creede and entered -on the _Stationers' Registers_, 5th March 1594, as written by Thomas -Lodge and Robert Greene, gent. There is every indication that the -play was successful. For two decades after its appearance Jonah and -the Whale were popular in puppet-shows, and allusions in Beaumont -and Fletcher, Ben Jonson and Cowley indicate the vogue of Nineveh -on the puppet-stage. Five early quartos are mentioned by Collins: -1594, in the library of the Duke of Devonshire; 1598, in the Bodleian -and the British Museum; 1602, in the British Museum; 1617, in the -Bodleian and the British Museum; and apparently an actor's edition -with many variants, formerly in Heber's Library, now in that of Mr -Godfrey Locker Lampson, of the conjectural date 1598. The assignment -of authorship of different portions of the play is difficult and not -entirely profitable. Fleay assigns "most and best" of the play to -Lodge. From their resemblance to the _Alarum Against Usurers_ Collins -assigns the following scenes to Lodge: I. 3; II. 3; V. 2. He also -assigns the speeches of Oseas and Jonas, and the scenes displaying -marine technology, to Lodge, viz.: III. 2; IV. 1. (_See_ also Gayley, -_Representative English Comedies_, p 405, n.) This play was one of the -earliest in which Greene had a hand and has been rightly called "a -modernised morality." - - - - -DRAMATIS PERSONÆ - - -RASNI, King of Nineveh. - -KING OF CILICIA. - -KING OF CRETE. - -KING OF PAPHLAGONIA. - -THRASYBULUS, a young gentleman, reduced to poverty. - -ALCON, a poor man. - -RADAGON, -CLESIPHON, -his sons. - -Usurer. - -Judge. - -Lawyer. - -Smith. - -ADAM, his man. - -First Ruffian. - -Second Ruffian. - -Governor of Joppa. - -Master of a Ship. - -First Searcher. - -Second Searcher. - -A Man in devil's attire. - -Magi, Merchants, Sailors, Lords, Attendants, etc. - -REMILIA, sister to RASNI. - -ALVIDA, wife to the KING OF PAPHLAGONIA. - -SAMIA, wife to ALCON. - -Smith's Wife. - -Ladies. - -An Angel. - -An Evil Angel. - -OSEAS. - -JONAS. - - - - -_A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON AND ENGLAND_ - - -ACT THE FIRST - - -SCENE I.--_The Palace of_ RASNI _in Nineveh._ - - _Enter_ RASNI, _with the_ KINGS OF CILICIA, CRETE _and_ PAPHLAGONIA, - _from the overthrow of_ JEROBOAM, _King of Jerusalem._ - - _Rasni._ So pace ye on, triumphant warriors; - Make Venus' leman,[56] arm'd in all his pomp, - Bash at the brightness of your hardy looks; - For you, the viceroys and the cavaliers, - That wait on Rasni's royal mightiness:-- - Boast, petty kings, and glory in your fates, - That stars have made your fortunes climb so high, - To give attend on Rasni's excellence. - Am I not he that rules great Nineveh, - Rounded with Lycus' silver-flowing streams? - Whose city-large diametri contains, - Even three days' journey's length from wall to wall; - Two hundred gates carv'd out of burnish'd brass, - As glorious as the portal of the sun; - And, for to deck heaven's battlements with pride, - Six hundred towers that topless touch the clouds. - This city is the footstool of your king; - A hundred lords do honour at my feet; - My sceptre straineth both the parallels: - And now t' enlarge the highness of my power - I have made Judea's monarch flee the field, - And beat proud Jeroboam from his holds, - Winning from Cadiz to Samaria. - Great Jewry's God, that foil'd stout Benhadad, - Could not rebate[57] the strength that Rasni brought; - For be he God in heaven, yet, viceroys, know, - Rasni is god on earth, and none but he. - - _K. of Cil._ If lovely shape, feature by nature's skill - Passing in beauty fair Endymion's, - That Luna wrapt within her snowy breasts, - Or that sweet boy that wrought bright Venus' bane, - Transform'd unto a purple hyacinth; - If beauty nonpareil in excellence, - May make a king match with the gods in gree,[58] - Rasni is god on earth, and none but he. - - _K. of Crete._ If martial looks, wrapt in a cloud of wars, - More fierce than Mavors lighteneth from his eyes, - Sparkling revenge and dire disparagement; - If doughty deeds more haught than any done, - Seal'd with the smile of fortune and of fate, - Matchless to manage lance and curtle-axe; - If such high actions, grac'd with victories, - May make a king match with the gods in gree, - Rasni is god on earth, and none but he. - - _K. of Paph._ If Pallas' wealth-- - - _Rasni._ Viceroys, enough; peace, Paphlagon, no more. - See where's my sister, fair Remilia, - Fairer than was the virgin Danaë - That waits on Venus with a golden show; - She that hath stol'n the wealth of Rasni's looks, - And tied his thoughts within her lovely locks, - She that is lov'd, and love unto your king, - See where she comes to gratulate my fame. - - _Enter_ RADAGON, _with_ REMILIA, ALVIDA, _and_ Ladies, _bringing a - globe seated on a ship._ - - _Remil._ Victorious monarch, second unto Jove - Mars upon earth, and Neptune on the seas, - Whose frown strows all the ocean with a calm, - Whose smile draws Flora to display her pride, - Whose eye holds wanton Venus at a gaze, - Rasni, the regent of great Nineveh; - For thou hast foil'd proud Jeroboam's force, - And, like the mustering breath of Æolus, - That overturns the pines of Lebanon, - Hast scatter'd Jewry and her upstart grooms, - Winning from Cadiz to Samaria;-- - Remilia greets thee with a kind salute, - And, for a present to thy mightiness, - Gives thee a globe folded within a ship, - As king on earth and lord of all the seas, - With such a welcome unto Nineveh - As may thy sister's humble love afford. - - _Rasni._ Sister! the title fits not thy degree; - A higher state of honour shall be thine. - The lovely trull that Mercury entrapp'd - Within the curious pleasure of his tongue, - And she that bash'd the sun-god with her eyes, - Fair Semele, the choice of Venus' maids, - Were not so beauteous as Remilia. - Then, sweeting, sister shall not serve the turn, - But Rasni's wife, his leman and his love: - Thou shalt, like Juno, wed thyself to Jove, - And fold me in the riches of thy fair;[59] - Remilia shall be Rasni's paramour. - For why,[60] if I be Mars for warlike deeds, - And thou bright Venus for thy clear aspect, - Why should not from our loins issue a son - That might be lord of royal sovereignty, - Of twenty worlds, if twenty worlds might be? - What say'st, Remilia, art thou Rasni's wife? - - _Remil._ My heart doth swell with favour of thy thoughts; - The love of Rasni maketh me as proud - As Juno when she wore heaven's diadem. - Thy sister born was for thy wife, my love: - Had I the riches nature locketh up - To deck her darling beauty when she smiles, - Rasni should prank him in the pride of all. - - _Rasni._ Remilia's love is far more richer[61] priz'd - Than Jeroboam's or the world's subdue. - Lordings, I'll have my wedding sumptuous, - Made glorious with the treasures of the world: - I'll fetch from Albia shelves of margarites,[62] - And strip the Indies of their diamonds, - And Tyre shall yield me tribute of her gold, - To make Remilia's wedding glorious. - I'll send for all the damosel queens that live - Within the reach of Rasni's government, - To wait as hand-maids on Remilia, - That her attendant train may pass the troop - That gloried Venus at her wedding-day. - - _K. of Crete._ O my Lord, not sister to thy love! - 'Tis incest and too foul a fact for kings; - Nature allows no limits to such lust. - - _Radag._ Presumptuous viceroy, dar'st thou check thy lord, - Or twit him with the laws that nature loves? - Is not great Rasni above nature's reach, - God upon earth, and all his will is law? - - _K. of Crete._ O, flatter not, for hateful is his choice, - And sister's love will blemish all his worth. - - _Radag._ Doth not the brightness of his majesty - Shadow his deeds from being counted faults? - - _Rasni._ Well hast thou answer'd with him, Radagon; - I like thee for thy learnèd sophistry.-- - But thou of Crete, that countercheck'st thy king, - Pack hence in exile;--Radagon the crown!-- - Be thou vicegerent of his royalty, - And fail me not in what my thoughts may please, - For from a beggar have I brought thee up, - And grac'd thee with the honour of a crown.-- - Ye quondam king, what, feed ye on delays? - - _K. of Crete._ Better no king than viceroy under him, - That hath no virtue to maintain his crown. [_Exit._ - - _Rasni._ Remilia, what fair dames be those that wait - Attendant on thy matchless royalty? - - _Remil._ 'Tis Alvida, the fair wife to the King of Paphlagonia. - - _Rasni._ Trust me, she is a fair:--thou'st, Paphlagon, a jewel, - To fold thee in so bright a sweeting's arms. - - _Radag._ Like you her, my lord? - - _Rasni._ What if I do, Radagon? - - _Radag._ Why, then she is yours, my lord; for marriage - Makes no exception, where Rasni doth command. - - _K. of Paph._ Ill dost thou counsel him to fancy wives. - - _Radag._ Wife or not wife, whatso he likes is his. - - _Rasni._ Well answer'd, Radagon; thou art for me: - Feed thou mine humour, and be still a king.-- - Lords, go in triumph of my happy loves, - And, for to feast us after all our broils, - Frolic and revel it in Nineveh. - Whatso'er befitteth your conceited thoughts, - Or good or ill, love or not love, my boys, - In love, or what may satisfy your lust, - Act it, my lords, for no man dare say no. - _Divisum imperium cum Jove nunc teneo._ - [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE II.--_A Public Place in Nineveh._ - - _Enter, brought in by an_ Angel, OSEAS, _the Prophet, and let down - over the stage in a throne._ - - _Angel._ Amaze not, man of God, if in the spirit - Thou'rt brought from Jewry unto Nineveh; - So was Elias wrapt within a storm, - And set upon Mount Carmel by the Lord: - For thou hast preach'd long to the stubborn Jews, - Whose flinty hearts have felt no sweet remorse, - But lightly valuing all the threats of God, - Have still perséver'd in their wickedness. - Lo, I have brought thee unto Nineveh, - The rich and royal city of the world, - Pamper'd in wealth, and overgrown with pride, - As Sodom and Gomorrah full of sin. - The Lord looks down, and cannot see one good, - Not one that covets to obey His will; - But wicked all, from cradle to the crutch. - Note, then, Oseas, all their grievous sins, - And see the wrath of God that pays revenge; - And when the ripeness of their sin is full, - And thou hast written all their wicked thoughts, - I'll carry thee to Jewry back again, - And seat thee in the great Jerusalem; - There shalt thou publish in her open streets - That God sends down His hateful wrath for sin - On such as never heard His prophets speak: - Much more will He inflict a world of plagues - On such as hear the sweetness of His voice, - And yet obey not what His prophets speak. - Sit thee, Oseas, pondering in the spirit - The mightiness of these fond people's[63] sins. - - _Oseas._ The will of the Lord be done! - [_Exit_ Angel. - - _Enter_ ADAM[64] _and his crew of_ Ruffians, _to go to drink._ - -_Ruffian._ Come on, smith, thou shalt be one of the crew, because thou -knowest where the best ale in the town is. - -_Adam._ Come on, in faith, my colts; I have left my master striking of -a heat, and stole away because I would keep you company. - -_First Ruf._ Why, what, shall we have this paltry smith with us? - -_Adam._ "Paltry smith"! why, you incarnative knave, what are you that -you speak petty treason against the smith's trade? - -_First Ruf._ Why, slave, I am a gentleman of Nineveh. - -_Adam._ A gentleman! good sir, I remember you well, and all your -progenitors: your father bare office in our town; an honest man he was, -and in great discredit in the parish, for they bestowed two squires' -livings on him, the one was on working-days, and then he kept the town -stage, and on holidays they made him the sexton's man, for he whipped -dogs out of the church. Alas, sir, your father,--why, sir, methinks I -see the gentleman still: a proper youth he was, faith, aged some forty -and ten; his beard rat's colour, half black, half white; his nose was -in the highest degree of noses, it was nose _autem glorificam_,[65] so -set with rubies that after his death it should have been nailed up in -Copper-smiths-hall for a monument. Well, sir, I was beholding to your -good father, for he was the first man that ever instructed me in the -mystery of a pot of ale. - -_Second Ruf._ Well said, smith; that crossed him over the thumbs. - -_First Ruf._ Villain, were it not that we go to be merry, my rapier -should presently quit[66] thy opproprious terms. - -_Adam._ O Peter, Peter, put up thy sword, I prithee heartily, into thy -scabbard; hold in your rapier; for though I have not a long reacher, -I have a short hitter.--Nay then, gentlemen, stay me, for my choler -begins to rise against him; for mark the words, "a paltry smith"! -O horrible sentence! thou hast in these words, I will stand to it, -libelled against all the sound horses, whole horses, sore horses, -coursers, curtals, jades, cuts, hackneys and mares: whereupon, my -friend, in their defence, I give thee this curse,--thou shalt not be -worth a horse of thine own this seven year. - -_First Ruf._ I prithee, smith, is your occupation so excellent? - -_Adam._ "A paltry smith"! Why, I'll stand to it, a smith is lord of the -four elements; for our iron is made of the earth, our bellows blow out -air, our floor holds fire, and our forge water. Nay, sir, we read in -the Chronicles that there was a god of our occupation. - -_First Ruf._ Ay, but he was a cuckold. - -_Adam._ That was the reason, sir, he call'd your father cousin. "Paltry -smith"! Why, in this one word thou hast defaced their worshipful -occupation. - -_First Ruf._ As how? - -_Adam._ Marry, sir, I will stand to it, that a smith in his kind is -a physician, a surgeon and a barber. For let a horse take a cold, -or be troubled with the bots, and we straight give him a potion or -a purgation, in such physical manner that he mends straight: if he -have outward diseases, as the spavin, splent, ringbone, windgall or -fashion,[67] or, sir, a galled back, we let him blood and clap a -plaster to him with a pestilence, that mends him with a very vengeance: -now, if his mane grow out of order, and he have any rebellious hairs, -we straight to our shears and trim him with what cut it please us, pick -his ears and make him neat. Marry, ay, indeed, sir, we are slovens for -one thing; we never use musk-balls to wash him with, and the reason is, -sir, because he can woo without kissing. - -_First Ruf._ Well, sirrah, leave off these praises of a smith, and -bring us to the best ale in the town. - -_Adam._ Now, sir, I have a feat above all the smiths in Nineveh; for, -sir, I am a philosopher that can dispute of the nature of ale; for mark -you, sir, a pot of ale consists of four parts,--imprimus the ale, the -toast, the ginger, and the nutmeg. - -_First Ruf._ Excellent! - -_Adam._ The ale is a restorative, bread is a binder: mark you, sir, -two excellent points in physic; the ginger, O, ware of that! the -philosophers have written of the nature of ginger, 'tis expulsitive in -two degrees; you shall hear the sentence of Galen, - - "It will make a man belch, cough, and fart, - And is a great comfort to the heart,"-- - -a proper posy, I promise you; but now to the noble virtue of the -nutmeg; it is, saith one ballad (I think an English Roman was the -author), an underlayer to the brains, for when the ale gives a buffet -to the head, O the nutmeg! that keeps him for a while in temper. Thus -you see the description of the virtue of a pot of ale; now, sir, to -put my physical precepts in practice, follow me: but afore I step any -further-- - -_First Ruf._ What's the matter now? - -_Adam._ Why, seeing I have provided the ale, who is the purveyor for -the wenches? for, masters, take this of me, a cup of ale without a -wench, why, alas, 'tis like an egg without salt, or a red-herring -without mustard! - -_First Ruf._ Lead us to the ale; we'll have wenches enough, I warrant -thee. [_Exeunt._ - -_Oseas._ Iniquity seeks out companions still, - And mortal men are armèd to do ill. - London, look on, this matter nips thee near: - Leave off thy riot, pride, and sumptuous cheer; - Spend less at board, and spare not at the door, - But aid the infant, and relieve the poor; - Else seeking mercy, being merciless, - Thou be adjudg'd to endless heaviness. - - -SCENE III.--_At the_ Usurer's. - - - _Enter the_ Usurer, THRASYBULUS, _and_ ALCON.[68] - -_Usurer._ Come on, I am every day troubled with these needy companions: -what news with you? what wind brings you hither? - -_Thras._ Sir, I hope, how far soever you make it off, you remember, too -well for me, that this is the day wherein I should pay you money that I -took up of you alate in a commodity.[69] - -_Alc._ And, sir, sir-reverence of your manhood and gentry, I have -brought home such money as you lent me. - -_Usurer._ You, young gentleman, is my money ready? - -_Thras._ Truly, sir, this time was so short, the commodity so bad, -and the promise of friends so broken, that I could not provide it -against the day; wherefore I am come to entreat you to stand my friend, -and to favour me with a longer time, and I will make you sufficient -consideration. - -_Usurer._ Is the wind in that door? If thou hast thy money, so it is: -I will not defer a day, an hour, a minute, but take the forfeit of the -bond. - -_Thras._ I pray you, sir, consider that my loss was great by the -commodity I took up: you know, sir, I borrowed of you forty pounds, -whereof I had ten pounds in money, and thirty pounds in lute-strings, -which when I came to sell again, I could get but five pounds for them, -so had I, sir, but fifteen pounds for my forty. In consideration of -this ill bargain, I pray you, sir, give me a month longer. - -_Usurer._ I answered thee afore, not a minute; what have I to do how -thy bargain proved? I have thy hand set to my book that thou receivedst -forty pounds of me in money. - -_Thras._ Ay, sir, it was your device that, to colour the statute, but -your conscience knows what I had. - -_Alc._ Friend, thou speakest Hebrew to him when thou talkest to him -of conscience; for he hath as much conscience about the forfeit of an -obligation, as my blind mare, God bless her, hath over a manger of oats. - -_Thras._ Then there is no favour, sir? - -_Usurer._ Come to-morrow to me, and see how I will use thee. - -_Thras._ No, covetous caterpillar, know that I have made extreme shift -rather than I would fall into the hands of such a ravening panther; -and therefore here is thy money, and deliver me the recognisance of my -lands. - -_Usurer_ [_aside_]. What a spite is this!--hath sped of his crowns! If -he had missed but one half hour, what a goodly farm had I gotten for -forty pounds! Well, 'tis my cursed fortune. O, have I no shift to make -him forfeit his recognisance? - -_Thras._ Come, sir, will you despatch and tell your money? [_It strikes -four o'clock._ - -_Usurer_ [_aside_]. Stay, what is this o'clock? four;--let me see--"to -be paid between the hours of three and four in the afternoon": this -goes right for me.--You, sir, hear you not the clock, and have you not -a counterpane[70] of your obligation? The hour is past, it was to be -paid between three and four; and now the clock hath strucken four: I -will receive none, I'll stand to the forfeit of the recognisance. - -_Thras._ Why, sir, I hope you do but jest; why, 'tis but four, and will -you for a minute take forfeit of my bond? If it were so, sir, I was -here before four. - -_Usurer._ Why didst thou not tender thy money then? if I offer thee -injury, take the law of me, complain to the judge: I will receive no -money. - -_Alc._ Well, sir, I hope you will stand my good master for my cow. -I borrowed thirty shillings on her, and for that I have paid you -eighteen-pence a week, and for her meat you have had her milk, and I -tell you, sir, she gives a pretty sup: now, sir, here is your money. - -_Usurer._ Hang, beggarly knave! comest to me for a cow? did I not bind -her bought and sold for a penny, and was not thy day to have paid -yesterday? Thou gettest no cow at my hand. - -_Alc._ No cow, sir! alas, that word "no cow" goes as cold to my heart -as a draught of small drink in a frosty morning! "No cow," sir! Why, -alas, alas, Master Usurer, what shall become of me, my wife, and my -poor child? - -_Usurer._ Thou gettest no cow of me, knave! I cannot stand prating with -you; I must be gone. - -_Ale._ Nay, but hear you, Master Usurer: "no cow!" Why, sir, here's -your thirty shillings: I have paid you eighteen-pence a week, and -therefore there is reason I should have my cow. - -_Usurer._ What pratest thou? have I not answered thee, thy day is -broken? - -_Alc._ Why, sir, alas, my cow is a commonwealth to me! for first, sir, -she allows me, my wife, and son, for to banquet ourselves withal, -butter, cheese, whey, curds, cream, sod-milk, raw-milk, sour-milk, -sweet-milk, and butter-milk: besides, sir, she saved me every year a -penny in almanacs, for she was as good to me as a prognostication; -if she had but set up her tail, and have gallop'd about the mead, my -little boy was able to say, "O, father, there will be a storm"; her -very tail was a calendar to me: and now to lose my cow! alas, Master -Usurer, take pity upon me! - -_Usurer._ I have other matters to talk on; farewell, fellows. - -_Thras._ Why, but, thou covetous churl, wilt thou not receive thy -money, and deliver me my recognisance? - -_Usurer._ I'll deliver thee none; if I have wronged thee, seek thy -mends at the law. [_Exit._ - -_Thras._ And so I will, insatiable peasant. - -_Alc._ And, sir, rather than I will put up this word "no cow," I will -lay my wife's best gown to pawn. I tell you, sir, when the slave -uttered this word "no cow," it struck to my heart, for my wife shall -never have one so fit for her turn again; for, indeed, sir, she is a -woman that hath her twiddling-strings broke. - -_Thras._ What meanest thou by that, fellow? - -_Alc._ Marry, sir, sir-reverence of your manhood, she breaks wind -behind; and indeed, sir, when she sat milking of her cow and let a -fart, my other cows would start at the noise, and kick down the milk -and away; but this cow, sir, the gentlest cow! my wife might blow -whilst[71] she burst: and having such good conditions, shall the Usurer -come upon me with "no cow"? Nay, sir, before I pocket up this word "no -cow," my wife's gown goes to the lawyer: why, alas, sir, 'tis as ill a -word to me as "no crown" to a king! - -_Thras._ Well, fellow, go with me, and I'll help thee to a lawyer. - -_Alc._ Marry, and I will, sir. No cow! well, the world goes hard. -[_Exeunt._ - -_Oseas._ Where hateful usury - Is counted husbandry; - Where merciless men rob the poor, - And the needy are thrust out of door; - Where gain is held for conscience, - And men's pleasure is all on pence; - Where young gentlemen forfeit their lands, - Through riot, into the usurer's hands; - Where poverty is despis'd, and pity banish'd, - And mercy indeed utterly vanish'd: - Where men esteem more of money than of God; - Let that land look to feel his wrathful rod: - For there is no sin more odious in his sight - Than where usury defrauds the poor of his right. - London, take heed, these sins abound in thee; - The poor complain, the widows wrongèd be; - The gentlemen by subtlety are spoil'd; - The ploughmen lose the crop for which they toil'd: - Sin reigns in thee, O London, every hour: - Repent, and tempt not thus the heavenly power. - - - - -ACT THE SECOND - - -SCENE I.--_The Palace of_ RASNI. - - _Enter_ REMILIA, _with_ ALVIDA _and a train of_ Ladies, _in all - royalty._ - - _Remil._ Fair queens, yet handmaids unto Rasni's love, - Tell me, is not my state as glorious - As Juno's pomp, when tir'd with heaven's despoil, - Clad in her vestments spotted all with stars, - She cross'd the silver path unto her Jove? - Is not Remilia far more beauteous, - Rich'd with the pride of nature's excellence, - Than Venus in the brightest of her shine? - My hairs, surpass they not Apollo's locks? - Are not my tresses curlèd with such art - As love delights to hide him in their fair? - Doth not mine eye shine like the morning lamp - That tells Aurora when her love will come? - Have I not stol'n the beauty of the heavens, - And plac'd it on the feature of my face? - Can any goddess make compare with me, - Or match her with the fair Remilia? - - _Alvi._ The beauties that proud Paris saw from Troy, - Mustering in Ida for the golden ball, - Were not so gorgeous as Remilia. - - _Remil._ I have trick'd my trammels up with richest balm, - And made my perfumes of the purest myrrh: - The precious drugs that Ægypt's wealth affords, - The costly paintings fetch'd from curious Tyre, - Have mended in my face what nature miss'd. - Am I not the earth's wonder in my looks? - - _Alvi._ The wonder of the earth, and pride of heaven. - - _Remil._ Look, Alvida, a hair stands not amiss; - For women's locks are trammels of conceit, - Which do entangle Love for all his wiles. - - _Alvi._ Madam, unless you coy it trick and trim, - And play the civil[72] wanton ere you yield, - Smiting disdain of pleasures with your tongue, - Patting your princely Rasni on the cheek - When he presumes to kiss without consent, - You mar the market: beauty naught avails: - You must be proud; for pleasures hardly got - Are sweet if once attain'd. - - _Remil._ Fair Alvida, - Thy counsel makes Remilia passing wise. - Suppose that thou wert Rasni's mightiness, - And I Remilia, prince of excellence. - - _Alvi._ I would be master then of love and thee. - - _Remil._ "Of love and me! Proud and disdainful king, - Dar'st thou presume to touch a deity, - Before she grace thee with a yielding smile?"[73] - - _Alvi._ "Tut, my Remilia, be not thou so coy; - Say nay, and take it."[74] - - _Remil._ "Careless and unkind! - Talks Rasni to Remilia in such sort - As if I did enjoy a human form? - Look on thy love, behold mine eyes divine, - And dar'st thou twit me with a woman's fault? - Ah Rasni, thou art rash to judge of me. - I tell thee, Flora oft hath woo'd my lips, - To lend a rose to beautify her spring; - The sea-nymphs fetch their lilies from my cheeks: - Then thou unkind!"--and hereon would I weep. - - _Alvi._ And here would Alvida resign her charge; - For were I but in thought th' Assyrian king, - I needs must 'quite thy tears with kisses sweet, - And crave a pardon with a friendly touch: - You know it, madam, though I teach it not, - The touch I mean, you smile whenas you think it. - - _Remil._ How am I pleas'd to hear thy pretty prate, - According to the humour of my mind! - Ah, nymphs, who fairer than Remilia? - The gentle winds have woo'd me with their sighs, - The frowning air hath clear'd when I did smile; - And when I trac'd upon the tender grass, - Love, that makes warm the centre of the earth, - Lift up his crest to kiss Remilia's foot; - Juno still entertains her amorous Jove - With new delights, for fear he look on me; - The phœnix' feathers are become my fan, - For I am beauty's phœnix in this world. - Shut close these curtains straight, and shadow me, - For fear Apollo spy me in his walks, - And scorn all eyes, to see Remilia's eyes. - Nymphs, eunuchs, sing, for Mavors draweth nigh: - Hide me in closure, let him long to look: - For were a goddess fairer than am I, - I'll scale the heavens to pull her from the place. - [_They draw the curtains, and music plays._ - - _Alvi._ Believe me, though she say that she is fairest, - I think my penny silver by her leave. - - _Enter_ RASNI _and_ RADAGON, _with_ Lords _in pomp, who make a ward - about_ RASNI; _with them the_ Magi _in great pomp._ - - _Rasni._ Magi, for love of Rasni, by your art, - By magic frame an arbour out of hand, - For fair Remilia to disport her in. - Meanwhile, I will bethink me on further pomp. [_Exit._ - - [_The_ Magi _with their rods beat the ground, and from under the same - rises a brave arbour;_[75] RASNI _returns in another suit, while the - trumpets sound._ - - _Rasni._ Blest be ye, men of art, that grace me thus, - And blessèd be this day where Hymen hies - To join in union pride of heaven and earth! - [_Lightning and thunder, wherewith_ REMILIA _is strucken._ - What wondrous threatening noise is this I hear? - What flashing lightnings trouble our delights? - When I draw near Remilia's royal tent, - I waking dream of sorrow and mishap. - - _Radag._ Dread not, O king, at ordinary chance; - These are but common exhalations, - Drawn from the earth, in substance hot and dry, - Or moist and thick, or meteors combust, - Matters and causes incident to time, - Enkindled in the fiery region first. - Tut, be not now a Roman augurer: - Approach the tent, look on Remilia. - - _Rasni._ Thou hast confirm'd my doubts, kind Radagon.-- - Now ope, ye folds, where queen of favour sits, - Carrying a net within her curlèd locks, - Wherein the Graces are entangled oft; - Ope like th' imperial gates where Phœbus sits, - Whenas he means to woo his Clytia. - Nocturnal cares, ye blemishers of bliss, - Cloud not mine eyes whilst I behold her face.-- - Remilia, my delight!--she answereth not. - [_He draws the curtains, and finds her strucken black with thunder._ - How pale! as if bereav'd in fatal meads, - The balmy breath hath left her bosom quite: - My Hesperus by cloudy death is blent.[76]-- - Villains, away, fetch syrups of the Inde, - Fetch balsomo, the kind preserve of life, - Fetch wine of Greece, fetch oils, fetch herbs, fetch all, - To fetch her life, or I will faint and die. - [_They bring in all these, and offer; naught prevails._ - Herbs, oils of Inde, alas, there naught prevails! - Shut are the day-bright eyes that made me see; - Lock'd are the gems of joy in dens of death. - Yet triumph I on fate, and he on her: - Malicious mistress of inconstancy, - Damn'd be thy name, that hast obscur'd my joy.-- - Kings, viceroys, princes, rear a royal tomb - For my Remilia; bear her from my sight, - Whilst I in tears weep for Remilia. - [_They bear_ REMILIA'S _body out._ - - _Radag._ What maketh Rasni moody? loss of one? - As if no more were left so fair as she. - Behold a dainty minion for the nonce,-- - Fair Alvida, the Paphlagonian queen: - Woo her, and leave this weeping for the dead. - - _Rasni._ What, woo my subject's wife that honoureth me! - - _Radag._ Tut, kings this _meum, tuum_ should not know: - Is she not fair? is not her husband hence? - Hold, take her at the hands of Radagon; - A pretty peat[77] to drive your mourn away. - - _Rasni._ She smiles on me, I see she is mine own.-- - Wilt thou be Rasni's royal paramour? - - _Radag._ She blushing yields consent.--Make no dispute: - The king is sad, and must be gladded straight; - Let Paphlagonian king go mourn meanwhile. - [_Thrusts_ RASNI _and_ ALVIDA _out; and so they - all exeunt._] - - _Oseas._ Pride hath his judgment: London, look about; - 'Tis not enough in show to be devout. - A fury now from heaven to lands unknown - Hath made the prophet speak, not to his own. - Fly, wantons, fly this pride and vain attire, - The seals to set your tender hearts on fire. - Be faithful in the promise you have past, - Else God will plague and punish at the last. - When lust is hid in shroud of wretched life, - When craft doth dwell in bed of married wife, - Mark but the prophet's word that shortly shows.[78] - After death expect for many woes. - - -SCENE II.--_A Court of Justice in Nineveh._ - - _Enter_ ALCON _and_ THRASYBULUS, _with their_ Lawyer. - -_Thras._ I need not, sir, discourse unto you the duty of lawyers in -tendering the right cause of their clients, nor the conscience you are -tied unto by higher command. Therefore suffice, the Usurer hath done me -wrong; you know the case; and, good sir, I have strained myself to give -you your fees. - -_Lawyer._ Sir, if I should any way neglect so manifest a truth, I were -to be accused of open perjury, for the case is evident. - -_Alc._ And truly, sir, for my case, if you help me not for my matter, -why, sir, I and my wife are quite undone; I want my mease[79] of milk -when I go to my work, and my boy his bread and butter when he goes to -school. Master Lawyer, pity me, for surely, sir, I was fain to lay my -wife's best gown to pawn for your fees: when I looked upon it, sir, and -saw how handsomely it was daubed with statute-lace,[80] and what a fair -mockado[81] cape it had, and then thought how handsomely it became my -wife,--truly, sir, my heart is made of butter, it melts at the least -persecution,--I fell on weeping; but when I thought on the words the -Usurer gave me, "no cow," then, sir, I would have stript her into her -smock, but I would make him deliver my cow ere I had done: therefore, -good Master Lawyer, stand my friend. - -_Lawyer._ Trust me, father, I will do for thee as much as for myself. - -_Alc._ Are you married, sir? - -_Lawyer._ Ay, marry, am I, father. - -_Alc._ Then good's benison light on you and your good wife, and send -her that she be never troubled with my wife's disease. - -_Lawyer._ Why, what's thy wife's disease. - -_Alc._ Truly, sir, she hath two open faults, and one privy fault. Sir, -the first is, she is too eloquent for a poor man, and hath the words of -art, for she will call me rascal, rogue, runagate, varlet, vagabond, -slave, knave: why, alas, sir, and these be but holiday-terms, but if -you heard her working-day words, in faith, sir, they be rattlers like -thunder, sir; for after the dew follows a storm, for then am I sure -either to be well buffeted, my face scratched, or my head broken: and -therefore, good Master Lawyer, on my knees I ask it, let me not go home -again to my wife with this word "no cow"; for then she will exercise -her two faults upon me with all extremity. - -_Lawyer._ Fear not, man. But what is thy wife's privy fault? - -_Alc._ Truly, sir, that's a thing of nothing; alas, she, indeed, -sir-reverence of your mastership, doth use to break wind in her -sleep.--O, sir, here comes the Judge, and the old caitiff the Usurer. - - _Enter the_ Judge, _attended, and the_ Usurer. - -_Usurer._ Sir, here is forty angels for you, and if at any time you -want a hundred pound or two, 'tis ready at your command, or the feeding -of three or four fat bullocks: whereas these needy slaves can reward -with nothing but a cap and a knee; and therefore I pray you, sir, -favour my case. - -_Judge._ Fear not, sir, I'll do what I can for you. - -_Usurer._ What, Master Lawyer, what make you here? mine adversary for -these clients? - -_Lawyer._ So it chanceth now, sir. - -_Usurer._ I know you know the old proverb, "He is not wise that is not -wise for himself": I would not be disgraced in this action; therefore -here is twenty angels; say nothing in the matter, or what you say, say -to no purpose, for the Judge is my friend. - -_Lawyer._ Let me alone, I'll fit your purpose. - -_Judge._ Come, where are these fellows that are the plaintiffs? what -can they say against this honest citizen our neighbour, a man of good -report amongst all men? - -_Alc._ Truly, Master Judge, he is a man much spoken of; marry, every -man's cries are against him, and especially we; and therefore I think -we have brought our Lawyer to touch him with as much law as will fetch -his lands and my cow with a pestilence. - -_Thras._ Sir, I am the other plaintiff, and this is my counsellor: I -beseech your honour be favourable to me in equity. - -_Judge._ O, Signor Mizaldo, what can you say in this gentleman's behalf? - -_Lawyer._ Faith, sir, as yet little good.--Sir, tell you your own case -to the Judge, for I have so many matters in my head, that I have almost -forgotten it. - -_Thras._ Is the wind in that door? Why then, my lord, thus. I took -up of this cursed Usurer, for so I may well term him, a commodity of -forty pounds, whereof I received ten pound in money, and thirty pound -in lute-strings, whereof I could by great friendship make but five -pounds: for the assurance of this bad commodity I bound him my land -in recognisance: I came at my day, and tendered him his money, and he -would not take it: for the redress of my open wrong I crave but justice. - -_Judge._ What say you to this, sir? - -_Usurer._ That first he had no lute-strings of me; for, look you, sir, -I have his own hand to my book for the receipt of forty pound. - -_Thras._ That was, sir, but a device of him to colour the statute. - -_Judge._ Well, he hath thine own hand, and we can crave no more in -law.--But now, sir, he says his money was tendered at the day and hour. - -_Usurer._ This is manifest contrary, sir, and on that I will depose; -for here is the obligation, "to be paid between three and four in the -afternoon," and the clock struck four before he offered it, and the -words be "between three and four," therefore to be tendered before four. - -_Thras._ Sir, I was there before four, and he held me with -brabbling[82] till the clock struck, and then for the breach of a -minute he refused my money, and kept the recognisance of my land for so -small a trifle.--Good Signor Mizaldo, speak what is law; you have your -fee, you have heard what the case is, and therefore do me justice and -right: I am a young gentleman, and speak for my patrimony. - -_Lawyer._ Faith, sir, the case is altered; you told me it before in -another manner: the law goes quite against you, and therefore you must -plead to the Judge for favour. - -_Thras._ [_Aside_]. O execrable bribery! - -_Alc._ Faith, Sir Judge, I pray you let me be the gentleman's -counsellor, for I can say thus much in his defence, that the Usurer's -clock is the swiftest clock in all the town: 'tis, sir, like a woman's -tongue, it goes ever half-an-hour before the time; for when we were -gone from him, other clocks in the town struck four. - -_Judge._ Hold thy prating, fellow:--and you, young gentleman, this is -my ward: look better another time both to your bargains and to the -payments; for I must give flat sentence against you, that, for default -of tendering the money between the hours, you have forfeited your -recognisance, and he to have the land. - -_Thras._ [_Aside_]. O inspeakable injustice! - -_Alc._ [_Aside_]. O monstrous, miserable, moth-eaten Judge! - -_Judge._ Now you, fellow, what have you to say for your matter? - -_Alc._ Master Lawyer, I laid my wife's gown to pawn for your fees: I -pray you, to this gear.[83] - -_Lawyer._ Alas, poor man, thy matter is out of my head, and therefore, -I pray thee, tell it thyself. - -_Alc._ I hold my cap to a noble,[84] that the Usurer hath given him -some gold, and he, chewing it in his mouth, hath got the toothache that -he cannot speak. - -_Judge._ Well, sirrah, I must be short, and therefore say on. - -_Alc._ Master Judge, I borrowed of this man thirty shillings, for -which I left him in pawn my good cow; the bargain was, he should have -eighteen-pence a week, and the cow's milk for usury: now, sir, as soon -as I had gotten the money, I brought it him, and broke but a day, and -for that he refused his money, and keeps my cow, sir. - -_Judge._ Why, thou hast given sentence against thyself, for in breaking -thy day thou hast lost thy cow. - -_Alc._ Master Lawyer, now for my ten shillings. - -_Lawyer._ Faith, poor man, thy case is so bad, I shall but speak -against thee. - -_Alc._ 'Twere good, then, I should have my ten shillings again. - -_Lawyer._ 'Tis my fee, fellow, for coming: wouldst thou have me come -for nothing? - -_Alc._ Why, then, am I like to go home, not only with no cow, but no -gown: this gear goes hard. - -_Judge._ Well, you have heard what favour I can show you: I must do -justice.--Come, Master Mizaldo,--and you, sir, go home with me to -dinner. - -_Alc._ Why, but, Master Judge, no cow!--and, Master Lawyer, no gown! -Then must I clean run out of the town. -[_Exeunt_ Judge, Lawyer, Usurer, _and_ Attendants. -How cheer you, gentleman? you cry "no lands" too; the Judge hath made -you a knight for a gentleman, hath dubbed you Sir John Lack-land. - -_Thras._ O miserable time, wherein gold is above God! - -_Alc._ Fear not, man; I have yet a fetch to get thy lands and my cow -again, for I have a son in the court, that is either a king or a king's -fellow, and to him will I go and complain on the Judge and the Usurer -both. - -_Thras._ And I will go with thee, and entreat him for my case. - -_Alc._ But how shall I go home to my wife, when I shall have nothing to -say unto her but "no cow"? alas, sir, my wife's faults will fall upon -me! - -_Thras._ Fear not; let's go; I'll quiet her, shalt see. [_Exeunt._ - -_Oseas._ Fly, judges, fly corruption in your court; - The judge of truth hath made your judgment short. - Look so to judge that at the latter day - Ye be not judg'd with those that wend astray. - Who passeth judgment for his private gain, - He well may judge he is adjudg'd to pain. - - -SCENE III.--_A Street near the_ King's _Palace._ - - _Enter_ ADAM _and his crew of_ Ruffians _drunk._ - -_Adam._ Farewell, gentle tapster.--Masters, as good ale as ever was -tapt; look to your feet, for the ale is strong.--Well, farewell, gentle -tapster. - -_First Ruf._ [_to Second Ruf._] Why, sirrah slave, by heaven's maker, -thinkest thou the wench loves thee best because she laughed on thee? -give me but such another word, and I will throw the pot at thy head. - -_Adam._ Spill no drink, spill no drink, the ale is good: I'll tell -you what, ale is ale, and so I'll commend me to you with hearty -commendations.--Farewell, gentle tapster. - -_Second Ruf._ Why, wherefore, peasant, scornest thou that the wench -should love me? look but on her, and I'll thrust my dagger in thy bosom. - -_First Ruf._ Well, sirrah, well, tha'rt as tha'rt, and so I'll take -thee. - -_Second Ruf._ Why, what am I? - -_First Ruf._ Why, what thou wilt; a slave. - -_Second Ruf._ Then take that, villain, and learn how thou use me -another time. [_Stabs_ First Ruf. - -_First Ruf._ O, I am slain! [_Dies._ - -_Second Ruf._ That's all one to me, I care not. Now will I in to my -wench, and call for a fresh pot. [_Exit: followed by all except_ ADAM. - -_Adam._ Nay, but hear ye, take me with ye, for the ale is ale.--Cut a -fresh toast, tapster, fill me a pot; here is money, I am no beggar, -I'll follow thee as long as the ale lasts.--A pestilence on the blocks -for me, for I might have had a fall: well, if we shall have no ale, -I'll sit me down: and so farewell, gentle tapster. [_Here he falls over -the dead man._ - - _Enter_ RASNI, ALVIDA, _the_ KING OF CILICIA, Lords, _and_ Attendants. - -_Rasni._ What slaughter'd wretch lies bleeding here his last, - So near the royal palace of the king? - Search out if any one be biding nigh, - That can discourse the manner of his death.-- - Seat thee, fair Alvida, the fair of fairs; - Let not the object once offend thine eyes. - -_First Lord._ Here's one sits here asleep, my lord. - -_Rasni._ Wake him, and make inquiry of this thing. - -_First Lord._ Sirrah, you! hearest thou, fellow? - -_Adam._ If you will fill a fresh pot, here's a penny, or else farewell, -gentle tapster. - -_First Lord._ He is drunk, my lord. - -_Rasni._ We'll sport with him, that Alvida may laugh. - -_First Lord._ Sirrah, thou fellow, thou must come to the king. - -_Adam._ I will not do a stroke of work to-day, for the ale is good ale, -and you can ask but a penny for a pot, no more by the statute. - -_First Lord._ Villain, here's the king; thou must come to him. - -_Adam._ The king come to an ale-house!--Tapster, fill me three -pots.--Where's the king? is this he?--Give me your hand, sir: as good -ale as ever was tapt; you shall drink while your skin crack. - -_Rasni._ But hearest thou, fellow, who killed this man? - -_Adam._ I'll tell you, sir,--if you did taste of the ale,--all Nineveh -hath not such a cup of ale, it flowers in the cup, sir; by my troth, I -spent eleven pence, beside three races of ginger-- - -_Rasni._ Answer me, knave, to my question, how came this man slain? - -_Adam._ Slain! why [the] ale is strong ale, 'tis huffcap;[85] I warrant -you, 'twill make a man well.--Tapster, ho! for the king a cup of ale -and a fresh toast; here's two races more. - -_Alvi._ Why, good fellow, the king talks not of drink; he would have -thee tell him how this man came dead. - -_Adam._ Dead! nay, I think I am alive yet, and will drink a full pot -ere night: but hear ye, if ye be the wench that filled us drink, why, -so, do your office, and give us a fresh pot; or if you be the tapster's -wife, why, so, wash the glass clean. - -_Alvi._ He is so drunk, my lord, there is no talking with him. - -_Adam._ Drunk! nay, then, wench, I am not drunk: th'art shitten quean -to call me drunk; I tell thee I am not drunk, I am a smith, I. - - _Enter the_ Smith. - -_First Lord._ Sir, here comes one perhaps that can tell. - -_Smith._ God save you, master. - -_Rasni._ Smith, canst thou tell me how this man came dead? - -_Smith._ May it please your highness, my man here and a crew of them -went to the ale-house, and came out so drunk that one of them killed -another; and now, sir, I am fain to leave my shop, and come to fetch -him home. - -_Rasni._ Some of you carry away the dead body: drunken men must have -their fits; and, sirrah smith, hence with thy man. - -_Smith._ Sirrah, you, rise, come go with me. - -_Adam._ If we shall have a pot of ale, let's have it; here's money; -hold, tapster, take my purse. - -_Smith._ Come, then, with me, the pot stands full in the house. - -_Adam._ I am for you, let's go, th'art an honest tapster: we'll drink -six pots ere we part. [_Exeunt_ Smith, ADAM; _and_ Attendants _with the -dead body._] - -_Rasni._ Beauteous, more bright than beauty in mine eyes, -Tell me, fair sweeting, want'st thou anything -Contain'd within the threefold circle of the world, -That may make Alvida live full content? - -_Alvi._ Nothing, my lord; for all my thoughts are pleas'd, -Whenas mine eye surfeits with Rasni's sight. - - _Enter the_ KING OF PAPHLAGONIA _malcontent._ - - _Rasni._ Look how thy husband haunts our royal court, - How still his sight breeds melancholy storms. - O, Alvida, I am passing passionate, - And vex'd with wrath and anger to the death! - Mars, when he held fair Venus on his knee, - And saw the limping smith come from his forge, - Had not more deeper furrows in his brow - Than Rasni hath to see this Paphlagon. - - _Alvi._ Content thee, sweet, I'll salve thy sorrow straight; - Rest but the ease of all thy thoughts on me, - And if I make not Rasni blithe again, - Then say that women's fancies have no shifts. - - _K. of Paph._ Sham'st thou not, Rasni, though thou be'st a king, - To shroud adultery in thy royal seat? - Art thou arch-ruler of great Nineveh, - Who shouldst excel in virtue as in state, - And wrong'st thy friend by keeping back his wife? - Have I not battled in thy troops full oft, - 'Gainst Ægypt, Jewry, and proud Babylon, - Spending my blood to purchase thy renown, - And is the guerdon of my chivalry - Ended in this abusing of my wife? - Restore her me, or I will from thy court, - And make discourse of thy adulterous deeds. - - _Rasni._ Why, take her, Paphlagon, exclaim not, man; - For I do prize mine honour more than love.-- - Fair Alvida, go with thy husband home. - - _Alvi._ How dare I go, sham'd with so deep misdeed? - Revenge will broil within my husband's breast, - And when he hath me in the court at home, - Then Alvida shall feel revenge for all. - - _Rasni._ What say'st thou, King of Paphlagon, to this? - Thou hear'st the doubt thy wife doth stand upon. - If she hath done amiss, it is my fault; - I prithee, pardon and forget [it] all. - - _K. of Paph._ If that I meant not, Rasni, to forgive, - And quite forget the follies that are past, - I would not vouch her presence in my court; - But she shall be my queen, my love, my life, - And Alvida unto her Paphlagon, - And lov'd, and more belovèd than before. - - _Rasni._ What say'st thou, Alvida, to this? - - _Alvi._ That, will he swear it to my lord the king, - And in a full carouse of Greekish wine - Drink down the malice of his deep revenge, - I will go home and love him new again. - - _Rasni._ What answers Paphlagon? - - _K. of Paph._ That what she hath requested I will do. - - _Alvi._ Go, damosel, fetch me that sweet wine - That stands within my closet on the shelf; - Pour it into a standing-bowl of gold, - But, on thy life, taste not before the king: - Make haste. - [_Exit_ Female Attendant. - Why is great Rasni melancholy thus? - If promise be not kept, hate all for me. - [_Wine brought in by_ Female Attendant. - Here is the wine, my lord: first make him swear. - - _K. of Paph._ By Nineveh's great gods, and Nineveh's great king, - My thoughts shall never be to wrong my wife! - And thereon here's a full carouse to her. [_Drinks._ - - _Alvi._ And thereon, Rasni, here's a kiss for thee; - Now may'st thou freely fold thine Alvida. - - _K. of Paph._ O, I am dead! obstruction's of my breath! - The poison is of wondrous sharp effect. - Cursèd be all adulterous queans, say I! - And cursing so, poor Paphlagon doth die. [_Dies._ - - _Alvi._ Now, have I not salv'd the sorrows of my lord? - Have I not rid a rival of thy loves? - What say'st thou, Rasni, to thy paramour? - - _Rasni._ That for this deed I'll deck my Alvida - In sendal and in costly sussapine,[86] - Border'd with pearl and India diamond. - I'll cause great Æol perfume all his winds - With richest myrrh and curious ambergris. - Come, lovely minion, paragon for fair, - Come, follow me, sweet goddess of mine eye, - And taste the pleasures Rasni will provide. - [_Exeunt._ - - _Oseas._ Where whoredom reigns, there murder follows fast, - As falling leaves before the winter blast. - A wicked life, train'd up in endless crime, - Hath no regard unto the latter time, - When lechers shall be punish'd for their lust, - When princes plagu'd because they are unjust. - Foresee in time, the warning bell doth toll; - Subdue the flesh, by prayer to save the soul: - London, behold the cause of others' wrack, - And see the sword of justice at thy back: - Defer not off, to-morrow is too late; - By night he comes perhaps to judge thy state. - - - - -ACT THE THIRD - - -SCENE I.--_A Seaport in Judea._ - - _Enter_ JONAS. - - _Jonas._ From forth the depth of my imprison'd soul - Steal you, my sighs, [to] testify my pain; - Convey on wings of mine immortal tone, - My zealous prayers unto the starry throne. - Ah, merciful and just, thou dreadful God! - Where is thine arm to lay revengeful strokes - Upon the heads of our rebellious race? - Lo, Israel, once that flourish'd like the vine, - Is barren laid; the beautiful increase - Is wholly blent, and irreligious zeal - Encampeth there where virtue was enthron'd: - Alas, the while the widow wants relief, - The fatherless is wrong'd by naked need, - Devotion sleeps in cinders of contempt, - Hypocrisy infects the holy priest! - Ah me, for this! woe me, for these misdeeds! - Alone I walk to think upon the world, - And sigh to see thy prophets so contemn'd, - Alas, contemn'd by cursèd Israel! - Yet, Jonas, rest content, 'tis Israel's sin - That causeth this; then muse no more thereon, - But pray amends, and mend thy own amiss. - - _An_ Angel _appears to_ JONAS. - - _Angel._ Amittai's son, I charge thee muse no more: - I AM hath power to pardon and correct; - To thee pertains to do the Lord's command. - Go girt thy loins, and haste thee quickly hence; - To Nineveh, that mighty city, wend, - And say this message from the Lord of hosts, - Preach unto them these tidings from thy God;-- - "Behold, thy wickedness hath tempted me, - And piercèd through the nine-fold orbs of heaven: - Repent, or else thy judgment is at hand." - [_This said, the_ Angel _vanishes._ - - _Jonas._ Prostrate I lie before the Lord of hosts, - With humble ears intending[87] his behest: - Ah, honour'd be Jehovah's great command! - Then Jonas must to Nineveh repair, - Commanded as the prophet of the Lord. - Great dangers on this journey do await, - But dangers none where heavens direct the course. - What should I deem? I see, yea, sighing see, - How Israel sins, yet knows the way of truth, - And thereby grows the bye-word of the world. - How, then, should God in judgment be so strict - 'Gainst those who never heard or knew his power. - To threaten utter ruin of them all? - Should I report this judgment of my God, - I should incite them more to follow sin, - And publish to the world my country's blame. - It may not be, my conscience tells me--no. - Ah, Jonas, wilt thou prove rebellious then? - Consider, ere thou fall, what error is. - My mind misgives: to Joppa will I fly, - And for a while to Tharsus shape my course, - Until the Lord unfret his angry brows. - - _Enter certain_ Merchants _of_ Tharsus, _a_ Master, _and some_ Sailors. - - _Master._ Come on, brave merchants; now the wind doth serve, - And sweetly blows a gale at west-south-west, - Our yards across; our anchor's on the pike; - What, shall we hence, and take this merry gale? - - _First Mer._ Sailors, convey our budgets straight aboard, - And we will recompense your pains at last: - If once in safety we may Tharsus see, - Master, we'll feast these merry mates and thee. - - _Master._ Meanwhile content yourselves with silly cates; - Our beds are boards, our feasts are full of mirth: - We use no pomp, we are the lords of sea; - When princes sweat in care, we swink[88] of glee. - Orion's shoulders and the Pointers serve - To be our loadstars in the lingering night; - The beauties of Arcturus we behold; - And though the sailor is no bookman held, - He knows more art than ever bookmen read. - - _First Sai._ By heavens, well said in honour of our trade! - Let's see the proudest scholar steer his course, - Or shift his tides, as silly sailors do; - Then will we yield them praise, else never none. - - _First Mer._ Well spoken, fellow, in thine own behalf. - But let us hence: wind tarries none, you wot, - And tide and time let slip is hardly got. - - _Master._ March to the haven, merchants; I follow you. - [_Exeunt_ Merchants. - - _Jonas_ [_aside_]. Now doth occasion further my desires; - I find companions fit to aid my flight.-- - Stay, sir, I pray, and hear a word or two. - - _Master._ Say on, good friend, but briefly, if you please; - My passengers by this time are aboard. - - _Jonas._ Whither pretend[89] you to embark yourselves? - - _Master._ To Tharsus, sir, and here in Joppa-haven - Our ship is prest[90] and ready to depart. - - _Jonas._ May I have passage for my money, then? - - _Master._ What not for money? pay ten silverlings,[91] - You are a welcome guest, if so you please. - - _Jonas_ [_giving money_]. Hold, take thine hire; I follow thee, my friend. - - _Master._ Where is your budget? let me bear it, sir. - - _Jonas._ Go on in peace; who sail as I do now[92] - Put trust in him who succoureth every want. - [_Exeunt._ - - _Oseas._ When prophets, new-inspir'd, presume to force - And tie the power of heaven to their conceits; - When fear, promotion, pride, or simony, - Ambition, subtle craft, their thoughts disguise, - Woe to the flock whereas the shepherd's foul! - For, lo, the Lord at unawares shall plague - The careless guide, because his flocks do stray. - The axe already to the tree is set: - Beware to tempt the Lord, ye men of art. - - -SCENE II.--_A Public Place in Nineveh._ - - _Enter_ ALCON, THRASYBULUS, SAMIA, _and_ CLESIPHON. - - _Cles._ Mother, some meat, or else I die for want. - - _Samia._ Ah little boy, how glad thy mother would - Supply thy wants, but naked need denies! - Thy father's slender portion in this world - By usury and false deceit is lost: - No charity within this city bides; - All for themselves, and none to help the poor. - - _Cles._ Father, shall Clesiphon have no relief? - -_Alc._ Faith, my boy, I must be flat with thee, we must feed upon -proverbs now; as "Necessity hath no law," "A churl's feast is better -than none at all;" for other remedies have we none, except thy brother -Radagon help us. - - _Samia._ Is this thy slender care to help our child? - Hath nature arm'd thee to no more remorse?[93] - Ah, cruel man, unkind and pitiless!-- - Come, Clesiphon, my boy, I'll beg for thee. - - _Cles._ O, how my mother's mourning moveth me! - -_Alc._ Nay, you shall pay me interest for getting the boy, wife, before -you carry him hence: alas, woman, what can Alcon do more? I'll pluck -the belly out of my heart for thee, sweet Samia; be not so waspish. - - _Samia._ Ah silly man, I know thy want is great, - And foolish I to crave where nothing is. - Haste, Alcon, haste, make haste unto our son; - Who, since he is in favour of the king, - May help this hapless gentleman and us - For to regain our goods from tyrant's hands. - - _Thras._ Have patience, Samia, wait your weal from heaven: - The gods have rais'd your son, I hope, for this, - To succour innocents in their distress. - Lo, where he comes from the imperial court; - Go, let us prostrate us before his feet. - -_Alc._ Nay, by my troth, I'll never ask my son's blessing; che trow, -cha[94] taught him his lesson to know his father. - - _Enter_ RADAGON _attended._[95] - -What, son Radagon! i'faith, boy, how dost thee? - -_Radag._ Villain, disturb me not; I cannot stay. - -_Alc._ Tut, son, I'll help you of that disease quickly, for I can hold -thee: ask thy mother, knave, what cunning I have to ease a woman when -a qualm of kindness comes too near her stomach; let me but clasp mine -arms about her body, and say my prayers in her bosom, and she shall be -healed presently. - - _Radag._ Traitor unto my princely majesty, - How dar'st thou lay thy hands upon a king? - - _Samia._ No traitor, Radagon, but true is he: - What, hath promotion blearèd thus thine eye, - To scorn thy father when he visits thee? - Alas, my son, behold with ruthful eyes - Thy parents robb'd of all their worldly weal - By subtle means of usury and guile: - The judge's ears are deaf and shut up close; - All mercy sleeps: then be thou in these plunges[96] - A patron to thy mother in her pains: - Behold thy brother almost dead for food: - O, succour us, that first did succour thee! - - _Radag._ What, succour me! false callet,[97] hence, avaunt! - Old dotard, pack! move not my patience: - I know you not; kings never look so low. - - _Samia._ You know us not! O Radagon, you know - That, knowing us, you know your parents then; - Thou know'st this womb first brought thee forth to light: - I know these paps did foster thee, my son. - -_Alc._ And I know he hath had many a piece of bread and cheese at my -hands, as proud as he is; that know I. - - _Thras._ I wait no hope of succour in this place, - Where children hold their fathers in disgrace. - - _Radag._ Dare you enforce the furrows of revenge - Within the brows of royal Radagon? - Villain, avaunt! hence, beggars, with your brats!-- - Marshal, why whip you not these rogues away, - That thus disturb our royal majesty? - - _Cles._ Mother, I see it is a wondrous thing, - From base estate for to become a king; - For why, methink, my brother in these fits - Hath got a kingdom, and hath lost his wits. - - _Radag._ Yet more contempt before my royalty? - Slaves, fetch out tortures worse than Tityus' plagues, - And tear their tongues from their blasphémous heads. - - _Thras._ I'll get me gone, though wo-begone with grief: - No hope remains:--come, Alcon, let us wend. - -_Radag._ 'Twere best you did, for fear you catch your bane. -[_Exit_ THRASYBULUS. - - _Samia._ Nay, traitor, I will haunt thee to the death: - Ungracious son, untoward, and perverse, - I'll fill the heavens with echoes of thy pride, - And ring in every ear thy small regard, - That dost despise thy parents in their wants; - And breathing forth my soul before thy feet, - My curses still shall haunt thy hateful head, - And being dead, my ghost shall thee pursue. - - _Enter_ RASNI, _attended on by his_ Magi _and_ Kings. - - _Rasni._ How now! what mean these outcries in our court, - Where naught should sound but harmonies of heaven? - What maketh Radagon so passionate? - - _Samia._ Justice, O king, justice against my son! - - _Rasni._ Thy son! what son? - - _Samia._ This cursèd Radagon. - - _Radag._ Dread monarch, this is but a lunacy, - Which grief and want hath brought the woman to.-- - What, doth this passion hold you every moon? - - _Samia._ O, politic in sin and wickedness, - Too impudent for to delude thy prince!-- - O Rasni, this same womb first brought him forth: - This is his father, worn with care and age, - This is his brother, poor unhappy lad, - And I his mother, though contemn'd by him. - With tedious toil we got our little good, - And brought him up to school with mickle charge: - Lord, how we joy'd to see his towardness! - And to ourselves we oft in silence said, - This youth when we are old may succour us. - But now preferr'd, and lifted up by thee, - We quite destroy'd by cursèd usury, - He scorneth me, his father, and this child. - - _Cles._ He plays the serpent right, describ'd in Æsop's tale, - That sought the foster's death, that lately gave him life. - -_Alc._ Nay, an please your majesty-ship, for proof he was my child, -search the parish-book: the clerk will swear it, his godfathers and -godmothers can witness it: it cost me forty pence in ale and cakes on -the wives at his christening.--Hence, proud king! thou shalt never more -have my blessing! - - _Rasni_ [_taking_ RADAGON _apart_]. - Say sooth in secret, Radagon, - Is this thy father? - - _Radag._ Mighty king, he is; - I blushing tell it to your majesty. - - _Rasni._ Why dost thou, then, contemn him and his friends? - - _Radag._ Because he is a base and abject swain, - My mother and her brat both beggarly, - Unmeet to be allied unto a king. - Should I, that look on Rasni's countenance, - And march amidst his royal equipage, - Embase myself to speak to such as they? - 'Twere impious so to impair the love - That mighty Rasni bears to Radagon. - I would your grace would quit them from your sight, - That dare presume to look on Jove's compare. - - _Rasni._ I like thy pride, I praise thy policy; - Such should they be that wait upon my court: - Let me alone to answer, Radagon.-- - Villains, seditious traitors, as you be, - That scandalise the honour of a king, - Depart my court, you stales of impudence, - Unless you would be parted from your limbs! - Too base for to entitle fatherhood - To Rasni's friend, to Rasni's favourite. - - _Radag._ Hence, begging scold! hence, caitiff clogg'd with years! - On pain of death, revisit not the court. - Was I conceiv'd by such a scurvy trull, - Or brought to light by such a lump of dirt? - Go, losel, trot it to the cart and spade! - Thou art unmeet to look upon a king. - Much less to be the father of a king. - -_Alc._ You may see, wife, what a goodly piece of work you have made: -have I taught you arsmetry, as _additiori multiplicarum_, the rule of -three, and all for the begetting of a boy, and to be banished for my -labour? O pitiful hearing!--Come, Clesiphon, follow me. - - _Cles._ Brother, beware: I oft have heard it told, - That sons who do their fathers scorn, shall beg when they be old. - - _Radag._ Hence, bastard boy, for fear you taste the whip! - [_Exeunt_ ALCON _and_ CLESIPHON. - - _Samia._ O all you heavens, and you eternal powers, - That sway the sword of justice in your hands - (If mother's curses for her son's contempt - May fill the balance of your fury full), - Pour down the tempest of your direful plagues - Upon the head of cursèd Radagon! - [_A flame of fire appears from beneath; and_ RADAGON _is swallowed._ - So you are just: now triumph, Samia! [_Exit._ - - _Rasni._ What exorcising charm, or hateful hag, - Hath ravishèd the pride of my delight? - What tortuous planets, or malevolent - Conspiring power, repining destiny, - Hath made the concave of the earth unclose, - And shut in ruptures lovely Radagon? - If I be lord commander of the clouds, - King of the earth, and sovereign of the seas, - What daring Saturn, from his fiery den, - Doth dart these furious flames amidst my court? - I am not chief, there is more great then I: - What, greater than th' Assyrian Satrapes?[98] - It may not be, and yet I fear there is, - That hath bereft me of my Radagon. - - _First Magus._ Monarch, and potentate of all our provinces. - Muse not so much upon this accident, - Which is indeed nothing miraculous. - The hill of Sicily, dread sovereign, - Sometime on sudden doth evacuate - Whole flakes of fire, and spews out from below - The smoky brands that Vulcan's bellows drive: - Whether by winds enclosèd in the earth, - Or fracture of the earth by river's force, - Such chances as was this are often seen; - Whole cities sunk, whole countries drownèd quite. - Then muse not at the loss of Radagon, - But frolic with the dalliance of your love. - Let cloths of purple, set with studs of gold, - Embellishèd with all the pride of earth, - Be spread for Alvida to sit upon: - Then thou, like Mars courting the queen of love, - Mayst drive away this melancholy fit. - - _Rasni._ The proof is good and philosophical; - And more, thy counsel plausible and sweet.-- - Come, lords, though Rasni wants his Radagon, - Earth will repay him many Radagons, - And Alvida with pleasant looks revive - The heart that droops for want of Radagon. [_Exeunt._ - - _Oseas._ When disobedience reigneth in the child, - And princes' ears by flattery be beguil'd; - When laws do pass by favour, not by truth; - When falsehood swarmeth both in old and youth; - When gold is made a god to wrong the poor, - And charity exil'd from rich men's door; - When men by wit do labour to disprove - The plagues for sin sent down by God above; - When great men's ears are stopt to good advice, - And apt to hear those tales that feed their vice; - Woe to the land! for from the East shall rise - A Lamb of peace, the scourge of vanities, - The judge of truth, the patron of the just, - Who soon will lay presumption in the dust, - And give the humble poor their hearts' desire, - And doom the worldlings to eternal fire: - Repent, all you that hear, for fear of plagues. - O London, this and more doth swarm in thee! - Repent, repent, for why the Lord doth see: - With trembling pray, and mend what is amiss; - The sword of justice drawn already is. - - -SCENE III.--_Within the_ Smith's _House._ - - _Enter_ ADAM _and the_ Smith's Wife. - -_Adam._ Why, but hear you, mistress: you know a woman's eyes are like a -pair of pattens, fit to save shoe-leather in summer, and to keep away -the cold in winter; so you may like your husband with the one eye, -because you are married, and me with the other, because I am your man. -Alas, alas! think, mistress, what a thing love is: why, it is like to -an ostry-faggot,[99] that, once set on fire, is as hardly quenched as -the bird[100] crocodile driven out of her nest. - -_S. Wife._ Why, Adam, cannot a woman wink but she must sleep? and can -she not love but she must cry it out at the cross? Know, Adam, I love -thee as myself, now that we are together in secret. - -_Adam._ Mistress, these words of yours are like to a fox-tail placed -in a gentlewoman's fan, which, as it is light, so it giveth life: O, -these words are as sweet as a lily! whereupon, offering a borachio[101] -of kisses to your unseemly personage, I entertain you upon further -acquaintance. - -_S. Wife._ Alas, my husband comes! - - _Adam._ Strike up the drum - And say no words but mum. - - _Enter the_ Smith. - -_Smith._ Sirrah you, and you, huswife, well taken together! I have long -suspected you, and now I am glad I have found you together. - -_Adam._ Truly, sir, and I am glad that I may do you any way pleasure, -either in helping you or my mistress. - -_Smith._ Boy here, and knave, you shall know it straight; I will have -you both before the magistrate, and there have you surely punished. - -_Adam._ Why, then, master, you are jealous? - -_Smith._ Jealous, knave! how can I be but jealous, to see you ever so -familiar together? Thou art not only content to drink away my goods, -but to abuse my wife. - -_Adam._ Two good qualities, drunkenness and lechery: but, master, are -you jealous? - -_Smith._ Ay, knave, and thou shalt know it ere I pass, for I will -beswinge thee while this rope will hold. - -_S. Wife._ My good husband, abuse him not, for he never proffered you -any wrong. - -_Smith._ Nay, whore, thy part shall not be behind. - -_Adam._ Why, suppose, master, I have offended you, is it lawful for the -master to beat the servant for all offences? - -_Smith._ Ay, marry, is it, knave. - -_Adam._ Then, master, will I prove by logic, that seeing all sins are -to receive correction, the master is to be corrected of the man. And, -sir, I pray you, what greater sin is than jealousy? 'tis like a mad dog -that for anger bites himself: therefore that I may do my duty to you, -good master, and to make a white[102] son of you, I will so beswinge -jealousy out of you, as you shall love me the better while you live. - -_Smith._ What, beat thy master, knave? - -_Adam._ What, beat thy man, knave? and, ay, master, and double beat -you, because you are a man of credit; and therefore have at you the -fairest for forty pence. [_Beats the_ Smith. - -_Smith._ Alas, wife, help, help! my man kills me. - -_S. Wife._ Nay, even as you have baked, so brew: jealousy must be -driven out by extremities. - -_Adam._ And that will I do, mistress. - -_Smith._ Hold thy hand, Adam; and not only I forgive and forget all, -but I will give thee a good farm to live on. - -_Adam._ Begone, peasant, out of the compass of my further wrath, for I -am a corrector of vice; and at night I will bring home my mistress. - -_Smith._ Even when you please, good Adam. - -_Adam._ When I please,--mark the words--'tis a lease-parol,[103] to -have and to hold. Thou shalt be mine for ever: and so let's go to the -ale-house. [_Exeunt._ - - _Oseas._ Where servants against masters do rebel, - The commonweal may be accounted hell; - For if the feet the head shall hold in scorn, - The city's state will fall and be forlorn. - This error, London, waiteth on thy state: - Servants, amend, and, masters, leave to hate; - Let love abound, and virtue reign in all; - So God will hold his hand, that threateneth thrall. - - - - -ACT THE FOURTH - - -SCENE I.--_Joppa._ - - _Enter the_ Merchants _of Tharsus, the_ Master _of the Ship and some_ - Sailors, _wet from the sea; with them the_ Governor _of Joppa._ - - _Gov._ What strange encounters met you on the sea, - That thus your bark is batter'd by the floods, - And you return thus sea-wreck'd as I see? - - _First Mer._ Most mighty Governor, the chance is strange, - The tidings full of wonder and amaze, - Which, better than we, our Master can report. - - _Gov._ Master, discourse us all the accident. - - _Master._ The fair Triones with their glimmering light - Smil'd at the foot of clear Bootes' wain, - And in the north, distinguishing the hours, - The loadstar of our course dispers'd his clear; - When to the seas with blitheful western blasts - We sail'd amain, and let the bowling fly. - Scarce had we gone ten leagues from sight of land, - But, lo, an host of black and sable clouds - 'Gan to eclipse Lucina's silver face; - And, with a hurling noise from forth the south, - A gust of wind did rear the billows up. - Then scantled we our sails with speedy hands, - And took our drablers[104] from our bonnets straight, - And severèd our bonnets from the courses: - Our topsails up, we truss our spritsails in; - But vainly strive they that resist the heavens. - For, lo, the waves incense them more and more, - Mounting with hideous roarings from the depth; - Our bark is batter'd by encountering storms, - And well-nigh stemm'd by breaking of the floods. - The steersman, pale and careful, holds his helm, - Wherein the trust of life and safety lay: - Till all at once (a mortal tale to tell) - Our sails were split by Bisa's[105] bitter blast. - Our rudder broke, and we bereft of hope. - There might you see, with pale and ghastly looks, - The dead in thought, and doleful merchants lift - Their eyes and hands unto their country's gods. - The goods we cast in bowels of the sea, - A sacrifice to 'suage proud Neptune's ire. - Only alone a man of Israel, - A passenger, did under hatches lie, - And slept secure, when we for succour pray'd: - Him I awoke, and said, "Why slumberest thou? - Arise, and pray, and call upon thy god; - He will perhaps in pity look on us." - Then cast we lots to know by whose amiss - Our mischief came, according to the guise; - And, lo, the lot did unto Jonas fall, - The Israelite of whom I told you last. - Then question we his country and his name; - Who answer'd us, "I am an Hebrew born, - Who fear the Lord of heaven who made the sea, - And fled from him, for which we all are plagu'd: - So, to assuage the fury of my God, - Take me and cast my carcass in the sea; - Then shall this stormy wind and billow cease." - The heavens they know, the Hebrew's God can tell, - How loath we were to execute his will: - But when no oars nor labour might suffice, - We heav'd the hapless Jonas overboard. - So ceas'd the storm, and calmèd all the sea, - And we by strength of oars recover'd shore. - - _Gov._ A wondrous chance of mighty consequence! - - _First Mer._ Ah, honour'd be the god that wrought the same! - For we have vow'd, that saw his wondrous works, - To cast away profanèd paganism, - And count the Hebrew's god the only god: - To him this offering of the purest gold, - This myrrh and cassia, freely I do yield. - - _Master._ And on his altar's fume these Turkey cloths, - This gossampine[106] and gold, I'll sacrifice. - - _First Sai._ To him my heart and thoughts I will addict. - Then suffer us, most mighty Governor, - Within your temples to do sacrifice. - - _Gov._ You men of Tharsus, follow me. - Who sacrifice unto the God of heaven - Are welcome friends to Joppa's Governor. - [_Exeunt. A sacrifice._ - - _Oseas._ If warnèd once, the ethnics thus repent, - And at the first their error do lament, - What senseless beasts, devourèd in their sin, - Are they whom long persuasions cannot win! - Beware, ye western cities,--where the word - Is daily preachèd, both at church and board, - Where majesty the gospel doth maintain, - Where preachers, for your good, themselves do pain,-- - To dally long and still protract the time; - The Lord is just, and you but dust and slime: - Presume not far, delay not to amend; - Who suffereth long, will punish in the end. - Cast thy account, O London, in this case, - Then judge what cause thou hast to call for grace! - - -SCENE II.--_The Seashore near Nineveh._ - - JONAS _is cast out of the Whale's belly upon the Stage._ - - _Jonas._ Lord of the light, thou maker of the world, - Behold, thy hands of mercy rear me up! - Lo, from the hideous bowels of this fish - Thou hast return'd me to the wishèd air! - Lo, here, apparent witness of thy power, - The proud leviathan that scours the seas, - And from his nostrils showers out stormy floods, - Whose back resists the tempest of the wind, - Whose presence makes the scaly troops to shake, - With humble stress of his broad-open'd chaps, - Hath lent me harbour in the raging floods! - Thus, though my sin hath drawn me down to death, - Thy mercy hath restorèd me to life. - Bow ye, my knees; and you, my bashful eyes, - Weep so for grief as you to water would. - In trouble, Lord, I callèd unto thee; - Out of the belly of the deepest hell - I cried, and thou didst hear my voice, O God! - 'Tis thou hadst cast me down into the deep: - The seas and floods did compass me about; - I thought I had been cast from out thy sight; - The weeds were wrapt about my wretched head; - I went unto the bottom of the hills: - But thou, O Lord my God, hast brought me up! - On thee I thought whenas my soul did faint - My prayers did prease[107] before thy mercy-seat. - Then will I pay my vows unto the Lord, - For why salvation cometh from his throne. - - _The_ Angel _appears._ - - _Angel._ Jonas, arise, get thee to Nineveh, - And preach to them the preachings that I bade; - Haste thee to see the will of heaven perform'd. - [_The_ Angel _departs._ - - _Jonas._ Jehovah, I am prest[108] to do thy will.-- - What coast is this, and where am I arriv'd? - Behold sweet Lycus streaming in his bounds, - Bearing the walls of haughty Nineveh, - Whereas three hundred towers do tempt the heaven. - Fair are thy walls, pride of Assyria; - But, lo, thy sins have piercèd through the clouds! - Here will I enter boldly, since I know - My God commands, whose power no power resists. - [_Exit._ - - _Oseas._ You prophets, learn by Jonas how to live; - Repent your sins, whilst he doth warning give. - Who knows his master's will, and doth it not, - Shall suffer many stripes, full well I wot. - - -SCENE III.--_The Garden of_ RASNI'S _Palace._ - - _Enter_ ALVIDA _in rich attire, with the_ KING OF CILICIA, _and her_ - Ladies. - - _Alvi._ Ladies, go sit you down amidst this bower, - And let the eunuchs play you all asleep: - Put garlands made of roses on your heads, - And play the wantons whilst I talk a while. - - _First Lady._ Thou beautiful of all the world, we will. - [Ladies _enter the bower._ - - _Alvi._ King of Cilicia, kind and courteous, - Like to thyself, because a lovely king, - Come, lay thee down upon thy mistress' knee, - And I will sing and talk of love to thee. - - _K. of Cil._ Most gracious paragon of excellence, - It fits not such an abject prince as I, - To talk with Rasni's paramour and love. - - _Alvi._ To talk, sweet friend! Who would not talk with thee? - O, be not coy! art thou not only fair? - Come, twine thine arms about this snow-white neck, - A love-nest for the great Assyrian king: - Blushing I tell thee, fair Cilician prince, - None but thyself can merit such a grace. - - _K. of Cil._ Madam, I hope you mean not for to mock me. - - _Alvi._ No, king, fair king, my meaning is to yoke thee. - Hear me but sing of love, then by my sighs, - My tears, my glancing looks, my changèd cheer, - Thou shalt perceive how I do hold thee dear. - - _K. of Cil._ Sing, madam, if you please, but love in jest. - - _Alvi._ Nay, I will love, and sigh at every rest. - [_Sings._ - _Beauty, alas, where wast thou born,_ - _Thus to hold thyself in scorn?_ - _Whenas Beauty kiss'd to woo thee,_ - _Thou by Beauty dost undo me:_ - _Heigh-ho, despise me not!_ - - _I and thou, in sooth, are one,_ - _Fairer thou, I fairer none:_ - _Wanton thou, and wilt thou, wanton,_ - _Yield a cruel heart to plant on?_ - _Do me right, and do me reason;_ - _Cruelty is cursèd treason:_ - _Heigh-ho, I love! heigh-ho, I love!_ - _Heigh-ho, and yet he eyes me not!_ - - _K. of Cil._ Madam, your song is passing passionate. - - _Alvi._ And wilt thou not, then, pity my estate? - - _K. of Cil._ Ask love of them who pity may impart. - - _Alvi._ I ask of thee, sweet; thou hast stole my heart. - - _K. of Cil._ Your love is fixèd on a greater king. - - _Alvi._ Tut, women's love it is a fickle thing. - I love my Rasni for his dignity, - I love Cilician king for his sweet eye; - I love my Rasni since he rules the world, - But more I love this kingly little world. - [_Embraces him._ - How sweet he looks! O, were I Cynthia's fere,[109] - And thou Endymion, I should hold thee dear: - Thus should mine arms be spread about thy neck, - [_Embraces his neck._ - Thus would I kiss my love at every beck; - [_Kisses him._ - Thus would I sigh to see thee sweetly sleep, - And if thou wak'dst not soon, thus would I weep; - And thus, and thus, and thus: thus much I love thee. - [_Kisses him._ - - _K. of Cil._ For all these vows, beshrew me if I prove ye: - My faith unto my king shall not be fals'd. - - _Alvi._ Good Lord, how men are coy when they are crav'd! - - _K. of Cil._ Madam, behold our king approacheth nigh. - - _Alvi._ Thou art Endymion, then, no more: heigh-ho, for him I die! - [_Faints, pointing at the_ KING OF CILICIA. - - _Enter_ RASNI, _with his_ Kings, Lords, _and_ Magi. - - _Rasni._ What ails the centre of my happiness, - Whereon depends the heaven of my delight? - Thine eyes the motors to command my world, - Thy hands the axier[110] to maintain my world, - Thy smiles the prime and spring-tide of my world, - Thy frowns the winter to afflict the world, - Thou queen of me, I king of all the world! - [_She rises as out of a trance._ - - _Alvi._ Ah feeble eyes, lift up and look on him! - Is Rasni here? then droop no more, poor heart.-- - O, how I fainted when I wanted thee! - [_Embraces him._ - How fain am I, now I may look on thee! - How glorious is my Rasni, how divine!-- - Eunuchs, play hymns to praise his deity: - He is my Jove, and I his Juno am. - - _Rasni._ Sun-bright as is the eye of summer's day, - Whenas he suits his pennons all in gold - To woo his Leda in a swan-like shape; - Seemly as Galatea for thy white; - Rose-colour'd, lily, lovely, wanton, kind, - Be thou the labyrinth to tangle love, - Whilst I command the crown from Venus' crest, - And pull Orion's girdle from his loins, - Enchas'd with carbuncles and diamonds, - To beautify fair Alvida, my love.-- - Play, eunuchs, sing in honour of her name; - Yet look not, slaves, upon her wooing eyne. - For she is fair Lucina to your king, - But fierce Medusa to your baser eye. - - _Alvi._ What if I slept, where should my pillow be? - - _Rasni._ Within my bosom, nymph, not on my knee: - Sleep, like the smiling purity of heaven, - When mildest wind is loath to blend[111] the peace; - Meanwhile my balm shall from thy breath arise; - And while these closures of thy lamps be shut, - My soul may have his peace from fancy's war.-- - This is my Morn, and I her Cephalus:-- - Wake not too soon, sweet nymph, my love is won.-- - Caitiffs, why stay your strains? why tempt you me? - - _Enter the_ Priests of the Sun, _with mitres on their heads, carrying - fire in their hands._ - - _First Priest._ All hail unto th' Assyrian deity! - - _Rasni._ Priests, why presume you to disturb my peace? - - _First Priest._ Rasni, the Destinies disturb thy peace. - Behold, amidst the adyts[112] of our gods, - Our mighty gods, the patrons of our war, - The ghosts of dead men howling walk about, - Crying "_Væ, Væ,_ woe to this city, woe!" - The statues of our gods are thrown down, - And streams of blood our altars do distain. - - _Alvi._ [_starting up_]. Alas, my lord, what tidings do I hear? - Shall I be slain? - - _Rasni._ Who tempteth Alvida? - Go, break me up the brazen doors of dreams, - And bind me cursèd Morpheus in a chain, - And fetter all the fancies of the night, - Because they do disturb my Alvida. - [_A hand from out a cloud threatens with a burning sword._ - - _K. of Cil._ Behold, dread prince, a burning sword from heaven, - Which by a threatening arm is brandishèd! - - _Rasni._ What, am I threaten'd, then, amidst my throne? - Sages, you Magi, speak; what meaneth this? - - _First Magus._ These are but clammy exhalations, - Or retrograde conjunctions of the stars, - Or oppositions of the greater lights, - Or radiations finding matter fit, - That in the starry sphere kindled be; - Matters betokening dangers to thy foes, - But peace and honour to my lord the king. - - _Rasni._ Then frolic, viceroys, kings and potentates; - Drive all vain fancies from your feeble minds. - Priests, go and pray, whilst I prepare my feast, - Where Alvida and I, in pearl and gold, - Will quaff unto our nobles richest wine, - In spite of fortune, fate, or destiny. [_Exeunt._ - - _Oseas._ Woe to the trains of women's foolish lust, - In wedlock-rites that yield but little trust, - That vow to one, yet common be to all! - Take warning, wantons; pride will have a fall. - Woe to the land where warnings profit naught! - Who say that nature God's decrees hath wrought; - Who build on fate, and leave the corner-stone, - The God of gods, sweet Christ, the only one. - If such escapes, O London, reign in thee, - Repent, for why each sin shall punish'd be! - Repent, amend, repent, the hour is nigh! - Defer not time! who knows when he shall die? - - -SCENE IV.--_A Public Place in Nineveh._ - - _Enter one clad in_ Devil's _attire._ - -_Devil._ Longer lives a merry man than a sad; and because I mean to -make myself pleasant this night, I have put myself into this attire, -to make a clown afraid that passeth this way: for of late there have -appeared many strange apparitions, to the great fear and terror of the -citizens.--O, here my young master comes. - - _Enter_ ADAM _and the_ Smith's Wife. - -_Adam._ Fear not, mistress, I'll bring you safe home: if my master -frown, then will I stamp and stare; and if all be not well then, why -then to-morrow morn put out mine eyes clean with forty pound. - -_S. Wife._ O, but, Adam, I am afraid to walk so late, because of the -spirits that appear in the city. - -_Adam._ What, are you afraid of spirits? Armed as I am, with ale and -nutmegs, turn me loose to all the devils in hell. - -_S. Wife._ Alas, Adam, Adam! the devil, the devil! - -_Adam._ The devil, mistress! fly you for your safeguard; [_Exit_ S. -Wife.] let me alone; the devil and I will deal well enough, if he have -any honesty at all in him: I'll either win him with a smooth tale, or -else with a toast and a cup of ale. - -_Devil_ [_singing_]. - _O, O, O, O, fain would I be,_ - _If that my kingdom fulfill'd I might see!_ - _O, O, O, O!_ - -_Adam._ Surely this is a merry devil, and I believe he is one of -Lucifer's minstrels; hath a sweet voice; now surely, surely, he may -sing to a pair of tongs and a bagpipe. - -_Devil._ O, thou art he that I seek for. - -_Adam. Spritus santus_!--Away from me, Satan! I have nothing to do with -thee. - -_Devil._ O villain, thou art mine! - -_Adam. Nominus patrus_!--I bless me from thee, and I conjure thee to -tell me who thou art! - -_Devil._ I am the spirit of the dead man that was slain in thy company -when we were drunk together at the ale.[113] - -_Adam._ By my troth, sir, I cry you mercy; your face is so changed that -I had quite forgotten you: well, master devil, we have tossed over many -a pot of ale together. - -_Devil._ And therefore must thou go with me to hell. - -_Adam_ [_aside_]. I have a policy to shift him, for I know he comes out -of a hot place, and I know myself, the smith and the devil hath a dry -tooth in his head: therefore will I leave him asleep and run my way. - -_Devil._ Come, art thou ready? - -_Adam._ Faith, sir, my old friend, and now goodman devil, you know you -and I have been tossing many a good cup of ale: your nose is grown very -rich: what say you, will you take a pot of ale now at my hands? Hell is -like a smith's forge, full of water, and yet ever athirst. - -_Devil._ No ale, villain; spirits cannot drink; come, get upon my back, -that I may carry thee.[114] - -_Adam._ You know I am a smith, sir: let me look whether you be well -shod or no; for if you want a shoe, a remove, or the clinching of a -nail, I am at your command. - -_Devil._ Thou hast never a shoe fit for me. - -_Adam,_ Why, sir, we shoe horned beasts, as well as you,--[_Aside._] -O good Lord! let me sit down and laugh; hath never a cloven foot; a -devil, quoth he! I'll use _Spritus santus_ nor _Nominus patrus_ no more -to him, I warrant you; I'll do more good upon him with my cudgel: now -will I sit me down, and become justice of peace to the devil. - -_Devil._ Come, art thou ready? - -_Adam._ I am ready, and with this cudgel I will conjure thee. [_Beats -him._ - -_Devil._ O, hold thy hand! thou killest me, thou killest me! [_Exit._ - -_Adam._ Then may I count myself, I think, a tall[115] man, that am able -to kill a devil. Now who dare deal with me in the parish? or what wench -in Nineveh will not love me, when they say, "There goes he that beat -the devil?" [_Exit._ - - -SCENE V.--_A Public Place near the_ Usurer's. - - _Enter_ THRASYBULUS. - - _Thras._ Loath'd is the life that now enforc'd I lead; - But since necessity will have it so, - (Necessity that doth command the gods), - Through every coast and corner now I pry, - To pilfer what I can to buy me meat. - Here have I got a cloak, not over old, - Which will afford some little sustenance: - Now will I to the broking Usurer, - To make exchange of ware for ready coin. - - _Enter_ ALCON, SAMIA, _and_ CLESIPHON. - -_Alc._ Wife, bid the trumpets sound, a prize, a prize! mark the posy: I -cut this from a new-married wife, by the help of a horn-thumb[116] and -a knife,--six shillings, four pence. - -_Samia._ The better luck ours: but what have we here, cast apparel? -Come away, man, the Usurer is near: this is dead ware, let it not bide -on our hands. - -_Thras._ [_aside_]. Here are my partners in my poverty, -Enforc'd to seek their fortunes as I do: -Alas, that few men should possess the wealth, -And many souls be forc'd to beg or steal!-- -Alcon, well met. - -_Alc._ Fellow beggar, whither now? - -_Thras._ To the Usurer, to get gold on commodity. - -_Alc._ And I to the same place, to get a vent for my villainy. See -where the old crust comes: let us salute him. - - _Enter_ Usurer. - -God-speed, sir: may a man abuse your patience upon a pawn? - -_Usurer._ Friend, let me see it. - -_Alc. Ecce signum!_ a fair doublet and hose, new-bought out of the -pilferer's shop,--a handsome cloak. - -_Usurer._ How were they gotten? - -_Thras._ How catch the fishermen fish? Master, take them as you think -them worth: we leave all to your conscience. - -_Usurer._ Honest men, toward men, good men, my friends, like to prove -good members, use me, command me; I will maintain your credits. There's -money: now spend not your time in idleness; bring me commodity; I have -crowns for you: there is two shillings for thee, and six shillings for -thee. [_Gives money._ - -_Alc._ A bargain.--Now, Samia, have at it for a new smock!--Come, let -us to the spring of the best liquor: whilst this lasts, tril-lill! - -_Usurer._ Good fellows, proper fellows, my companions, farewell: I have -a pot for you. - -_Samia_ [_aside_]. If he could spare it. - - _Enter_ JONAS. - - _Jonas._ Repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent! - The day of horror and of torment comes; - When greedy hearts shall glutted be with fire, - Whenas corruptions veil'd shall be unmask'd, - When briberies shall be repaid with bane, - When whoredoms shall be recompens'd in hell, - When riot shall with vigour be rewarded, - Whenas neglect of truth, contempt of God, - Disdain of poor men, fatherless and sick, - Shall be rewarded with a bitter plague. - Repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent! - The Lord hath spoke, and I do cry it out; - There are as yet but forty days remaining, - And then shall Nineveh be overthrown: - Repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent! - There are as yet but forty days remaining, - And then shall Nineveh be overthrown. [_Exit._ - - _Usurer._ Confus'd in thought, O, whither shall I wend? - [_Exit._ - - _Thras._ My conscience cries that I have done amiss. - [_Exit._ - - _Alc._ O God of heaven, gainst thee have I offended! - - _Samia._ Asham'd of my misdeeds, where shall I hide me? - - _Cles._ Father, methinks this word "repent" is good: - He that punisheth disobedience - Doth hold a scourge for every privy fault. - [_Exit with_ ALCON _and_ SAMIA. - - _Oseas._ Look, London, look; with inward eyes behold - What lessons the events do here unfold. - Sin grown to pride, to misery is thrall: - The warning-bell is rung, beware to fall. - Ye worldly men, whom wealth doth lift on high, - Beware and fear, for worldly men must die. - The time shall come, where least suspect remains, - The sword shall light upon the wisest brains; - The head that deems to overtop the sky, - Shall perish in his human policy. - Lo, I have said, when I have said the truth, - When will is law, when folly guideth youth, - When show of zeal is prank'd in robes of zeal, - When ministers powl[117] the pride of commonweal, - When law is made a labyrinth of strife, - When honour yields him friend to wicked life, - When princes hear by others' ears their folly, - When usury is most accounted holy, - If these shall hap, as would to God they might not, - The plague is near: I speak, although I write not. - - _Enter the_ Angel. - - _Angel._ Oseas. - - _Oseas._ Lord? - - _Angel._ Now hath thine eyes perus'd these heinous sins, - Hateful unto the mighty Lord of hosts. - The time is come, their sins are waxen ripe, - And though the Lord forewarns, yet they repent not; - Custom of sin hath harden'd all their hearts. - Now comes revenge, armèd with mighty plagues, - To punish all that live in Nineveh; - For God is just, as he is merciful, - And doubtless plagues all such as scorn repent. - Thou shalt not see the desolation - That falls unto these cursèd Ninevites, - But shalt return to great Jerusalem, - And preach unto the people of thy God - What mighty plagues are incident to sin, - Unless repentance mitigate His ire: - Rapt in the spirit, as thou wert hither brought, - I'll seat thee in Judaea's provinces. - Fear not, Oseas, then to preach the word. - - _Oseas._ The will of the Lord be done! - [Oseas _is taken away by the_ Angel. - - - - -ACT THE FIFTH - - -SCENE I.--_The Palace of_ RASNI. - - _Enter_ RASNI _with his_ Kings, Magi, Lords, _and_ Attendants; ALVIDA - _and her_ Ladies; _to a banquet._ - - _Rasni._ So, viceroys, you have pleas'd me passing well; - These curious cates are gracious in mine eye, - But these borachios of the richest wine - Make me to think how blithesome we will be.-- - Seat thee, fair Juno, in the royal throne, - And I will serve thee to see thy face, - That, feeding on the beauty of thy looks, - My stomach and mine eyes may both be fill'd.-- - Come, lordings, seat you, fellow-mates at feast, - And frolic, wags; this is a day of glee: - This banquet is for brightsome Alvida. - I'll have them skink[118] my standing bowls with wine, - And no man drink but quaff a whole carouse - Unto the health of beauteous Alvida: - For whoso riseth from this feast not drunk, - As I am Rasni, Nineveh's great king, - Shall die the death as traitor to myself, - For that he scorns the health of Alvida. - - _K. of Cil._ That will I never do, my lord; - Therefore with favour, fortune to your grace, - Carouse unto the health of Alvida. - - _Rasni._ Gramercy, lording, here I take thy pledge:-- - And, Crete, to thee a bowl of Greekish wine, - Here to the health of Alvida. - - _K. of Crete._ Let come, my lord. Jack skinker, fill it full, - A pledge unto the health of heavenly Alvida. - - _Rasni._ Vassals, attendant on our royal feasts, - Drink you, I say, unto my lover's health: - Let none that is in Rasni's royal court - Go this night safe and sober to his bed. - - _Enter_ ADAM. - -_Adam._ This way he is, and here will I speak with him. - -_First Lord._ Fellow, whither pressest thou? - -_Adam._ I press nobody, sir; I am going to speak with a friend of mine. - -_First Lord._ Why, slave, here is none but the king, and his viceroys. - -_Adam._ The king! marry, sir, he is the man I would speak withal. - -_First Lord._ Why, callest him a friend of thine? - -_Adam._ Ay, marry, do I, sir; for if he be not my friend, I'll make him -my friend, ere he and I pass. - -_First Lord._ Away, vassal, begone! thou speak unto the king! - -_Adam._ Ay, marry, will I, sir; an if he were a king of velvet, I will -talk to him. - -_Rasni._ What's the matter there? what noise is that? - -_Adam._ A boon, my liege, a boon, my liege! - - _Rasni._ What is it that great Rasni will not grant, - This day, unto the meanest of his land, - In honour of his beauteous Alvida? - Come hither, swain; what is it that thou cravest? - -_Adam._ Faith, sir, nothing, but to speak a few sentences to your -worship. - -_Rasni._ Say, what is it? - -_Adam._ I am sure, sir, you have heard of the spirits that walk in the -city here. - -_Rasni._ Ay, what of that? - -_Adam._ Truly, sir, I have an oration to tell you of one of them; and -this it is. - -_Alvi._ Why goest not forward with thy tale? - -_Adam._ Faith, mistress, I feel an imperfection in my voice, a disease -that often troubles me; but, alas, easily mended; a cup of ale or a cup -of wine will serve the turn. - -_Alvi._ Fill him a bowl, and let him want no drink. - -_Adam._ O, what a precious word was that, "And let him want no drink!" -[_Drink given to_ ADAM.] Well, sir, now I'll tell you forth my tale. -Sir, as I was coming alongst the port-royal of Nineveh, there appeared -to me a great devil, and as hard-favoured a devil as ever I saw; nay, -sir, he was a cuckoldly devil, for he had horns on his head. This -devil, mark you now, presseth upon me, and, sir, indeed, I charged him -with my pike-staff; but when that would not serve, I came upon him with -_Spritus santus_,--why, it had been able to have put Lucifer out of his -wits: when I saw my charm would not serve, I was in such a perplexity, -that sixpenny-worth of juniper would not have made the place sweet -again. - -_Alvi._ Why, fellow, wert thou so afraid? - -_Adam._ O, mistress, had you been there and seen, his very sight had -made you shift a clean smock! I promise you, though I were a man, and -counted a tall fellow, yet my laundress called me slovenly knave the -next day. - -_Rasni._ A pleasant slave.--Forward, sirrah, on with thy tale. - -_Adam._ Faith, sir, but I remember a word that my mistress your -bed-fellow spoke. - -_Rasni._ What was that, fellow? - -_Adam._ O, sir, a word of comfort, a precious word--"And let him want -no drink." - -_Rasni._ Her word is law; and thou shalt want no drink. [_Drink given -to_ ADAM. - -_Adam._ Then, sir, this devil came upon me, and would not be persuaded, -but he would needs carry me to hell. I proffered him a cup of ale, -thinking, because he came out of so hot a place, that he was thirsty; -but the devil was not dry, and therefore the more sorry was I. Well, -there was no remedy but I must with him to hell: and at last I cast -mine eye aside; if you knew what I spied you would laugh, sir; I looked -from top to toe, and he had no cloven feet. Then I ruffled up my hair, -and set my cap on the one side, and, sir, grew to be a justice of -peace to the devil: at last in a great fume, as I am very choleric, -and sometimes so hot in my fustian fumes that no man can abide within -twenty yards of me, I start up, and so bombasted the devil, that, sir, -he cried out and ran away. - -_Alvi._ This pleasant knave hath made me laugh my fill. -Rasni, now Alvida begins her quaff, -And drinks a full carouse unto her king. - -_Rasni._ A pledge, my love, as hearty as great Jove -Drunk when his Juno heav'd a bowl to him.-- -Frolic, my lords; let all the standards walk,[119] -Ply it till every man hath ta'en his load.-- -How now, sirrah, what cheer? we have no words of you. - -_Adam._ Truly, sir, I was in a brown study about my mistress. - -_Alvi._ About me! for what? - -_Adam,_ Truly, mistress, to think what a golden sentence you did speak: -all the philosophers in the world could not have said more:--"What, -come, let him want no drink." O, wise speech! - - _Alvi._ Villains, why skink you unto this fellow? - He makes me blithe and merry in my thoughts: - Heard you not that the king hath given command, - That all be drunk this day within his court - In quaffing to the health of Alvida? - [_Drink given to_ ADAM. - - _Enter_ JONAS. - - _Jonas._ Repent, repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent! - The Lord hath spoke, and I do cry it out, - There are as yet but forty days remaining, - And then shall Nineveh be overthrown: - Repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent! - -_Rasni._ What fellow's this, that thus disturbs our feast -With outcries and alarums to repent? - -_Adam._ O sir, 'tis one Goodman Jonas, that is come from Jericho; and -surely I think he hath seen some spirit by the way, and is fallen out -of his wits, for he never leaves crying night nor day. My master heard -him, and he shut up his shop, gave me my indenture, and he and his wife -do nothing but fast and pray. - -_Jonas._ Repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent! - -_Rasni._ Come hither, fellow: what art, and from whence comest thou? - - _Jonas._ Rasni, I am a prophet of the Lord, - Sent hither by the mighty God of hosts, - To cry destruction to the Ninevites. - O Nineveh, thou harlot of the world, - I raise thy neighbours round about thy bounds, - To come and see thy filthiness and sin! - Thus saith the Lord, the mighty God of hosts: - Your king loves chambering and wantonness; - Whoredom and murder do distain his court; - He favoureth covetous and drunken men; - Behold, therefóre, all like a strumpet foul, - Thou shalt be judg'd and punish'd for thy crime; - The foe shall pierce the gates with iron ramps, - The fire shall quite consume thee from above, - The houses shall be burnt, the infants slain, - And women shall behold their husbands die. - Thine eldest sister is Samaria,[120] - And Sodom on thy right hand seated is. - Repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent! - The Lord hath spoke, and I do cry it out, - There are as yet but forty days remaining, - And then shall Nineveh be overthrown. - [_Offers to depart._ - - _Rasni._ Stay, prophet, stay. - - _Jonas._ Disturb not him that sent me; - Let me perform the message of the Lord. [_Exit._ - - _Rasni._ My soul is buried in the hell of thoughts.-- - Ah, Alvida, I look on thee with shame!-- - My lords on sudden fix their eyes on ground, - As if dismay'd to look upon the heavens.-- - Hence, Magi, who have flattered me in sin! - [_Exeunt_ Magi. - Horror of mind, disturbance of my soul, - Make me aghast for Nineveh's mishap. - Lords, see proclaim'd, yea, see it straight proclaim'd, - That man and beast, the woman and her child, - For forty days in sack and ashes fast: - Perhaps the Lord will yield, and pity us.-- - Bear hence these wretched blandishments of sin, - [_Taking off his crown and robe._ - And bring me sackcloth to attire your king: - Away with pomp! my soul is full of woe.-- - In pity look on Nineveh, O God! - [_Exeunt all except_ ALVIDA _and_ Ladies. - - _Alvi._ Assail'd with shame, with horror overborne, - To sorrow sold, all guilty of our sin, - Come, ladies, come, let us prepare to pray. - Alas, how dare we look on heavenly light, - That have despis'd the maker of the same? - How may we hope for mercy from above, - That still despise the warnings from above? - Woe's me, my conscience is a heavy foe. - O patron of the poor oppress'd with sin, - Look, look on me, that now for pity crave! - Assail'd with shame, with horror overborne, - To sorrow sold, all guilty of our sin, - Come, ladies, come, let us prepare to pray. [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE II.--_A Street near the Temple._ - - _Enter the_ Usurer, _with a halter in one hand, a dagger in the - other._[121] - - _Usurer._ Groaning in conscience, burden'd with my crimes, - The hell of sorrow haunts me up and down. - Tread where I list, methinks the bleeding ghosts - Of those whom my corruption brought to naught - Do serve for stumbling-blocks before my steps; - The fatherless and widow wrong'd by me, - The poor oppressèd by my usury, - Methinks I see their hands rear'd up to heaven, - To cry for vengeance of my covetousness. - Whereso I walk, all sigh and shun my way; - Thus am I made a monster of the world: - Hell gapes for me, heaven will not hold my soul. - You mountains, shroud me from the God of truth: - Methinks I see him sit to judge the earth; - See how he blots me out o' the book of life! - O burden, more than Ætna, that I bear! - Cover me, hills, and shroud me from the Lord; - Swallow me, Lycus, shield me from the Lord. - In life no peace: each murmuring that I hear, - Methinks the sentence of damnation sounds, - "Die, reprobate, and hie thee hence to hell." - [_The_ Evil Angel _tempts him, offering the knife and rope._ - What fiend is this that tempts me to the death? - What, is my death the harbour of my rest? - Then let me die:--what second charge is this? - Methinks I hear a voice amidst mine ears, - That bids me stay, and tells me that the Lord - Is merciful to those that do repent. - May I repent? O thou, my doubtful soul, - Thou mayst repent, the judge is merciful! - Hence, tools of wrath, stales[122] of temptation! - For I will pray and sigh unto the Lord; - In sackcloth will I sigh, and fasting pray: - O Lord, in rigour look not on my sins! - [_He sits down in sackcloth, his hands and eyes reared to heaven._ - - _Enter_ ALVIDA _with her_ Ladies, _with dispersed locks._ - - _Alvi._ Come, mournful dames, lay off your broider'd locks, - And on your shoulders spread dispersèd hairs: - Let voice of music cease where sorrow dwells: - Clothèd in sackcloth, sigh your sins with me; - Bemoan your pride, bewail your lawless lusts; - With fasting mortify your pamper'd loins: - O, think upon the horror of your sins, - Think, think with me, the burden of your blames! - Woe to thy pomp, false beauty, fading flower, - Blasted by age, by sickness, and by death! - Woe to our painted cheeks, our curious oils, - Our rich array, that foster'd us in sin! - Woe to our idle thoughts, that wound our souls! - O, would to God all nations might receive - A good example by our grievous fall! - - _First Lady._ You that are planted there where pleasure dwells, - And think your pomp as great as Nineveh's, - May fall for sin as Nineveh doth now. - - _Alvi._ Mourn, mourn, let moan be all your melody, - And pray with me, and I will pray for all:-- - O Lord of heaven, forgive us our misdeeds! - - _Ladies._ O Lord of heaven, forgive us our misdeeds! - - _Usurer._ O Lord of light, forgive me my misdeeds! - - _Enter_ RASNI, _with his_ Kings _and_ Lords _in sackcloth._ - - _K. of Cil._ Be not so overcome with grief, O king, - Lest you endanger life by sorrowing so. - - _Rasni._ King of Cilicia, should I cease my grief, - Whereas my swarming sins afflict my soul? - Vain man, know this, my burden greater is - Than every private subject's in my land. - My life hath been a loadstar unto them, - To guide them in the labyrinth of blame: - Thus I have taught them for to do amiss; - Then must I weep, my friend, for their amiss. - The fall of Nineveh is wrought by me: - I have maintain'd this city in her shame; - I have contemn'd the warnings from above; - I have upholden incest, rape, and spoil; - 'Tis I, that wrought the sin, must weep the sin. - O, had I tears like to the silver streams - That from the Alpine mountains sweetly stream, - Or had I sighs, the treasures of remorse, - As plentiful as Æolus hath blasts, - I then would tempt the heavens with my laments, - And pierce the throne of mercy by my sighs! - - _K. of Cil._ Heavens are propitious unto faithful prayers. - - _Rasni._ But after we repent, we must lament, - Lest that a worser mischief doth befall. - O, pray: perhaps the Lord will pity us.-- - O God of truth, both merciful and just, - Behold, repentant men, with piteous eyes - We wail the life that we have led before: - O, pardon, Lord! O, pity Nineveh! - - _All._ O, pardon, Lord! O, pity Nineveh! - - _Rasni._ Let not the infants, dallying on the teat, - For fathers' sins in judgment be oppress'd! - - _K. of Cil._ Let not the painful mothers big with child, - The innocents, be punish'd for our sin! - - _Rasni._ O, pardon, Lord! O, pity Nineveh! - - _All._ O, pardon, Lord! O, pity Nineveh! - - _Rasni._ O Lord of heaven, the virgins weep to thee! - The covetous man sore sorry for his sin, - The prince and poor, all pray before thy throne; - And wilt thou, then, be wroth with Nineveh? - - _K. of Cil._ Give truce to prayer, O king, and rest a space. - - _Rasni._ Give truce to prayers, when times require no truce? - No, princes, no. Let all our subjects hie - Unto our temples, where, on humbled knees, - I will expect some mercy from above. - [_They all enter the temple._ - - -SCENE III.--_Outside the City of Nineveh._ - - _Enter_ JONAS. - - _Jonas._ This is the day wherein the Lord hath said - That Nineveh shall quite be overthrown; - This is the day of horror and mishap, - Fatal unto the cursèd Ninevites. - These stately towers shall in thy watery bounds, - Swift-flowing Lycus, find their burials: - These palaces, the pride of Assur's kings, - Shall be the bowers of desolation, - Whereas the solitary bird shall sing, - And tigers train their young ones to their nest. - O all ye nations bounded by the west, - Ye happy isles where prophets do abound, - Ye cities famous in the western world, - Make Nineveh a precedent for you! - Leave lewd desires, leave covetous delights, - Fly usury, let whoredom be exil'd, - Lest you with Nineveh be overthrown. - Lo, how the sun's inflamèd torch prevails, - Scorching the parchèd furrows of the earth! - Here will I sit me down, and fix mine eye - Upon the ruins of yon wretched town; - And, lo, a pleasant shade, a spreading vine, - To shelter Jonas in this sunny heat! - What means my God? the day is done and spent; - Lord, shall my prophecy be brought to naught? - When falls the fire? when will the judge be wroth? - I pray thee, Lord, remember what I said, - When I was yet within my country-land: - Jehovah is too merciful, I fear. - O, let me fly, before a prophet fault! - For thou art merciful, the Lord my God, - Full of compassion, and of sufferance, - And dost repent in taking punishment. - Why stays thy hand? O Lord, first take my life, - Before my prophecy be brought to naught! - [_A serpent devours the vine._ - Ah, he is wroth! behold, the gladsome vine, - That did defend me from the sunny heat, - Is wither'd quite, and swallow'd by a serpent! - Now furious Phlegon triumphs on my brows, - And heat prevails, and I am faint in heart. - - _Enter the_ Angel. - - _Angel._ Art thou so angry, Jonas? tell me why. - - _Jonas._ Jehovah, I with burning heat am plung'd, - And shadow'd only by a silly vine; - Behold, a serpent hath devourèd it: - And lo, the sun, incens'd by eastern wind, - Afflicts me with canicular aspéct. - Would God that I might die! for, well I wot, - 'Twere better I were dead then rest alive. - - _Angel._ Jonas, art thou so angry for the vine? - - _Jonas._ Yea, I am angry to the death, my God. - - _Angel._ Thou hast compassion, Jonas, on a vine, - On which thou never labour didst bestow; - Thou never gav'st it life or power to grow, - But suddenly it sprung, and suddenly died: - And should not I have great compassion - On Nineveh, the city of the world, - Wherein there are a hundred thousand souls, - And twenty thousand infants that ne wot[123] - The right hand from the left, beside much cattle? - O Jonas, look into their temples now, - And see the true contrition of their king, - The subjects' tears, the sinners' true remorse! - Then from the Lord proclaim a mercy-day, - For he is pitiful as he is just.[124] - - _Jonas._ I go, my God, to finish thy command. - [_Exit_ Angel. - O, who can tell the wonders of my God, - Or talk his praises with a fervent tongue? - He bringeth down to hell, and lifts to heaven; - He draws the yoke of bondage from the just, - And looks upon the heathen with piteous eyes: - To him all praise and honour be ascrib'd. - O, who can tell the wonders of my God? - He makes the infant to proclaim his truth, - The ass to speak to save the prophet's life, - The earth and sea to yield increase for man. - Who can describe the compass of his power, - Or testify in terms his endless might? - My ravish'd sprite, O, whither dost thou wend? - Go and proclaim the mercy of my God; - Relieve the careful-hearted Ninevites; - And, as thou wert the messenger of death, - Go bring glad tidings of recover'd grace. [_Exit._ - - -SCENE IV.--_Within the City of Nineveh._ - - _Enter_ ADAM, _with a bottle of beer in one slop,_[125] _and a great - piece of beef in another._ - -_Adam._ Well, Goodman Jonas, I would you had never come from Jewry to -this country; you have made me look like a lean rib of roast beef, or -like the picture of Lent painted upon a red-herring's cob.[126] Alas, -masters, we are commanded by the proclamation to fast and pray! by my -troth, I could prettily so-so away with[127] praying; but for fasting, -why, 'tis so contrary to my nature, that I had rather suffer a short -hanging than a long fasting. Mark me, the words be these, "Thou shalt -take no manner of food for so many days." I had as lief he should have -said, "Thou shalt hang thyself for so many days." And yet, in faith, -I need not find fault with the proclamation, for I have a buttery and -a pantry and a kitchen about me; for proof, _ecce signum!_ this right -slop is my pantry, behold a manchet[128] [_Draws it out_]; this place -is my kitchen, for, lo, a piece of beef [_Draws it out_],--O, let me -repeat that sweet word again! "for, lo, a piece of beef." This is my -buttery, for, see, see, my friends, to my great joy, a bottle of beer -[_Draws it out_]. Thus, alas, I make shift to wear out this fasting; I -drive away the time. But there go searchers about to seek if any man -breaks the king's command. O, here they be; in with your victuals, -Adam. [_Puts them back into his slops._ - - _Enter Two_ Searchers. - -_First Search._ How duly the men of Nineveh keep the proclamation! how -are they armed to repentance! We have searched through the whole city, -and have not as yet found one that breaks the fast. - -_Sec. Search._ The sign of the more grace:--but stay, here sits one, -methinks, at his prayers; let us see who it is. - -_First Search._ 'Tis Adam, the smith's man.--How now, Adam? - -_Adam._ Trouble me not; "Thou shalt take no manner of food, but fast -and pray." - -_First Search._ How devoutly he sits at his orisons! but stay, methinks -I feel a smell of some meat or bread about him. - -_Sec. Search._ So thinks me too.--You, sirrah, what victuals have you -about you? - -_Adam._ Victuals! O horrible blasphemy! Hinder me not of my prayer, -nor drive me not into a choler. Victuals! why, heardest thou not the -sentence, "Thou shalt take no food, but fast and pray"? - -_Sec. Search._ Truth, so it should be; but, methinks, I smell meat -about thee. - -_Adam._ About me, my friends! these words are actions in the case. -About me! no, no, hang those gluttons that cannot fast and pray. - -_First Search._ Well, for all your words, we must search you. - -_Adam._ Search me! take heed what you do; my hose[129] are my castles, -'tis burglary if you break ope a slop; no officer must lift up an iron -hatch; take heed, my slops are iron. [_They search_ ADAM.] - -_Sec. Search._ O villain!--see how he hath gotten victuals, bread, -beef, and beer, where the king commanded upon pain of death none should -eat for so many days, no, not the sucking infant! - -_Adam._ Alas, sir, this is nothing but a _modicum non nocet ut medicus -daret_; why, sir, a bit to comfort my stomach. - -_First Search._ Villain, thou shalt be hanged for it. - -_Adam._ These are your words, "I shall be hanged for it"; but first -answer me to this question, how many days have we to fast still? - -_Sec. Search._ Five days. - -_Adam._ Five days! a long time: then I must be hanged? - -_First Search._ Ay, marry, must thou. - -_Adam._ I am your man, I am for you, sir, for I had rather be hanged -than abide so long a fast. What, five days! Come, I'll untruss. Is -your halter, and the gallows, the ladder, and all such furniture in -readiness? - -_First Search._ I warrant thee, shalt want none of these. - -_Adam._ But hear you, must I be hanged? - -_First Search._ Ay, marry. - -_Adam._ And for eating of meat. Then, friends, know ye by these -presents, I will eat up all my meat, and drink up all my drink, for it -shall never be said, I was hanged with an empty stomach. - -_First Search._ Come away, knave; wilt thou stand feeding now? - -_Adam._ If you be so hasty, hang yourself an hour, while I come to you, -for surely I will eat up my meat. - -_Sec. Search._ Come, let's draw him away perforce. - -_Adam._ You say there is five days yet to fast; these are your words? - -_Sec. Search._ Ay, sir. - -_Adam._ I am for you: come, let's away, and yet let me be put in the -Chronicles. [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE V.--_The Palace of_ RASNI. - - _Enter_ JONAS, RASNI, ALVIDA, _the_ KING OF CILICIA, _and other_ - Kings, _royally attended._ - - _Jonas._ Come, careful king, cast off thy mournful weeds, - Exchange thy cloudy looks to smoothèd smiles; - Thy tears have pierc'd the piteous throne of grace, - Thy sighs, like incense pleasing to the Lord, - Have been peace-offerings for thy former pride: - Rejoice, and praise his name that gave thee peace. - And you, fair nymphs, ye lovely Ninevites, - Since you have wept and fasted 'fore the Lord, - He graciously hath temper'd his revenge: - Beware henceforth to tempt him any more: - Let not the niceness of your beauteous looks - Engraft in you a high-presuming mind; - For those that climb he casteth to the ground, - And they that humble be he lifts aloft. - - _Rasni._ Lowly I bend with awful bent of eye, - Before the dread Jehovah, God of hosts, - Despising all profane device of man. - Those lustful lures, that whilom led awry - My wanton eyes, shall wound my heart no more; - And she, whose youth in dalliance I abus'd, - Shall now at last become my wedlock-mate.-- - Fair Alvida, look not so wo-begone; - If for thy sin thy sorrow do exceed, - Blessèd be thou; come, with a holy band - Let's knit a knot to salve our former shame. - - _Alvi._ With blushing looks, betokening my remorse, - I lowly yield, my king, to thy behest, - So as this man of God shall think it good. - - _Jonas._ Woman, amends may never come too late; - A will to practise good is virtuous: - The God of heaven, when sinners do repent, - Doth more rejoice than in ten thousand just. - - _Rasni._ Then witness, holy prophet, our accord. - - _Alvi._ Plight in the presence of the Lord thy God. - - _Jonas._ Blest may you be, like to the flowering sheaves - That play with gentle winds in summer-tide; - Like olive-branches let your children spread, - And as the pines in lofty Lebanon, - Or as the kids that feed on Sepher[130] plains, - So be the seed and offspring of your loins! - - _Enter the_ Usurer, THRASYBULUS, _and_ ALCON. - - _Usurer._ Come forth, my friends, whom wittingly I wrong'd: - Before this man of God receive your due; - Before our king I mean to make my peace.-- - Jonas, behold, in sign of my remorse, - I here restore into these poor men's hands - Their goods which I unjustly have detain'd; - And may the heavens so pardon my misdeeds - As I am penitent for my offence! - - _Thras._ And what through want from others I purloin'd, - Behold, O king, I proffer 'fore thy throne, - To be restor'd to such as owe[131] the same. - - _Jonas._ A virtuous deed, pleasing to God and man. - Would God, all cities drownèd in like shame - Would take example of these Ninevites. - - _Rasni._ Such be the fruits of Nineveh's repent; - And such for ever may our dealings be, - That he that call'd us home in height of sin - May smile to see our hearty penitence.-- - Viceroys, proclaim a fast unto the Lord; - Let Israel's God be honour'd in our land; - Let all occasion of corruption die, - For who shall fault therein shall suffer death - Bear witness, God, of my unfeignèd zeal.-- - Come, holy man, as thou shalt counsel me, - My court and city shall reformèd be. - - _Jonas._ Wend on in peace, and prosecute this course. - [_Exeunt all except_ JONAS. - You islanders, on whom the milder air - Doth sweetly breathe the balm of kind increase, - Whose lands are fatten'd with the dew of heaven, - And made more fruitful than Actæan plains; - You whom delicious pleasures dandle soft, - Whose eyes are blinded with security, - Unmask yourselves, cast error clean aside. - O London, maiden of the mistress-isle, - Wrapt in the folds and swathing-clouts of shame, - In thee more sins than Nineveh contains! - Contempt of God, despite of reverend age, - Neglect of law, desire to wrong the poor, - Corruption, whoredom, drunkenness, and pride. - Swoll'n are thy brows with impudence and shame, - O proud adulterous glory of the west! - Thy neighbours burn, yet dost thou fear no fire; - Thy preachers cry, yet dost thou stop thine ears; - The 'larum rings, yet sleepest thou secure. - London, awake, for fear the Lord do frown: - I set a looking-glass before thine eyes. - O, turn, O, turn, with weeping to the Lord, - And think the prayers and virtues of thy queen - Defer the plague which otherwise would fall! - Repent, O London! lest for thine offence, - Thy shepherd fail, whom mighty God preserve, - That she may bide the pillar of his church - Against the storms of Romish Anti-Christ! - The hand of mercy overshade her head, - And let all faithful subjects say, Amen! - [_Exit._ - - - - -ORLANDO FURIOSO - - -Two quartos of _Orlando Furioso_ are known. Of these, copies of the -first, dated 1594, printed by John Danter for Cuthbert Burby, are -to be found in the British Museum and in the Dyce Library at South -Kensington; copies of the second, dated 1599, and printed by Simon -Stafford for Cuthbert Burby, are to be found in the British Museum, the -Dyce Library and the library of Mr Huth. On the _Stationers' Registers_ -the play is entered, 7th December 1593, to John Danter, and notice of -transfer to Cuthbert Burby is made under date of 28th May 1594. The -play belonged first to the Queen's players and was probably performed -at court, possibly on St. Stephen's Day, 26th December 1588, though -this is conjecture (_See_ Cayley, _Rep. Eng. Com._, p 409). Upon the -absence of the Queen's men from court, 26th December 1591 to April -1593, this play, among others, fell into the hands of the combined -Admiral's and Strange's companies, and was by them performed, as -Henslowe records, 21st February 1592. Greene's name does not appear -on the title-page of the quartos. In _The Defence of Conny-Catching_ -(1592), we find the following.--"Master R. G., would it not make you -blush--if you sold _Orlando Furioso_ to the Queen's players for twenty -nobles, and when they were in the country, sold the same play to Lord -Admiral's men, for as much more? Was not this plain coney-catching, M. -G.?" Among the actors in the Admiral and Strange companies was Edward -Alleyn. It so occurs that there exists at Dulwich College a large -portion of the MS. of this play, containing the part of Orlando, with -cues regularly marked, and with omissions supplied in the handwriting -of Alleyn. Though imperfect, this MS. indicates that the printed -edition was composed from a curtailed and mutilated copy. Greene's -play is based on a free use of Ariosto, and may be considered a parody -on the "mad plays" popular at the time. Reflections of it are to be -found in Peele's _Old Wives' Tale_, in the name Sacripant, and in the -resemblance between ll. 66-69, _Orlando Furioso_, and ll. 885-888, _Old -Wives' Tale_. - - - - -DRAMATIS PERSONÆ - - -MARSILIUS, Emperor of Africa. - -SOLDAN OF EGYPT. - -RODOMONT, King of Cuba. - -MANDRICARD, King of Mexico. - -BRANDIMART, King of the Isles. - -SACRIPANT. - -ORLANDO. - -OGIER. - -NAMUS. - -OLIVER. - -TURPIN. - -DUKE OF AQUITAIN. - -ROSSILION. - -MEDOR. - -ORGALIO, page to ORLANDO. - -SACRIPANT'S man. - -TOM. - -RALPH. - -Fiddler. - -Several of the Twelve Peers of France, whose names are not given. -Clowns, Attendants, etc. - -ANGELICA, daughter to MARSILIUS. - -MELISSA, an enchantress. - -Satyrs. - - - - -_THE HISTORY OF ORLANDO FURIOSO_[132] - - -ACT THE FIRST - - -SCENE I.--_The Palace of_ MARSILIUS. - - _Enter_ MARSILIUS _and_ ANGELICA, _the_ SOLDAN, RODOMONT, MANDRICARD, - BRANDIMART, ORLANDO _and_ SACRIPANT, _with Attendants._ - - _Mars._ Victorious princes, summon'd to appear - Within the continent of Africa; - From seven-fold Nilus to Taprobany, - Where fair Apollo darting forth his light - Plays on the seas; - From Gades' Islands, where stout Hercules - Emblaz'd his trophies on two posts of brass, - To Tanais, whose swift declining floods - Environ rich Europa to the north; - All fetch'd from out your courts by beauty to this coast, - To seek and sue for fair Angelica, - Sith none but one must have this happy prize, - At which you all have levell'd long your thoughts, - Set each man forth his passions how he can, - And let her censure[133] make the happiest man. - - _Sold._ The fairest flower that glories Africa, - Whose beauty Phœbus dares not dash with showers, - Over whose climate never hung a cloud, - But smiling Titan lights the horizon,-- - Egypt is mine, and there I hold my state, - Seated in Cairo and in Babylon. - From thence the matchless beauty of Angelica, - Whose hue (as bright as are those silver doves - That wanton Venus mann'th[134] upon her fist), - Forc'd me to cross and cut th' Atlantic seas, - To oversearch the fearful ocean, - Where I arriv'd to etérnize with my lance - The matchless beauty of fair Angelica; - Nor tilt, nor tourney, but my spear and shield - Resounding on their crests and sturdy helms, - Topt high with plumes, like Mars his burgonet, - Enchasing on their curats[135] with my blade, - That none so fair as fair Angelica. - But leaving these such glories as they be, - I love, my lord; let that suffice for me. - - _Rod._ Cuba my seat, a region so enrich'd - With savours sparkling from the smiling heavens, - As those that seek for traffic to my coast - Account it like that wealthy Paradise - From whence floweth Gihon, and swift Euphrates:[136] - The earth within her bowels hath enwrapt, - As in the massy storehouse of the world, - Millions of gold, as bright as was the shower - That wanton Jove sent down to Danaë. - Marching from thence to manage arms abroad, - I pass'd the triple-parted regiment[137] - That froward Saturn gave unto his sons, - Erecting statues of my chivalry, - Such and so brave as never Hercules - Vow'd for the love of lovely Iole. - But leaving these such glories as they be, - I love, my lord; let that suffice for me. - - _Mand._ And I, my lord, am Mandricard of Mexico, - Whose climate, fairer than Iberia's, - Seated beyond the sea of Tripoly, - And richer than the plot Hesperides,[138] - Or that same isle wherein Ulysses' love - Lull'd in her lap the young Telegonus; - That did but Venus tread a dainty step, - So would she like the land of Mexico, - As, Paphos and brave Cyprus set aside, - With me sweet lovely Venus would abide. - From thence, mounted upon a Spanish bark, - Such as transported Jason to the fleece, - Come from the south, I furrow'd Neptune's seas, - North-east as far as is the frozen Rhine; - Leaving fair Voya, cross'd up Danuby, - As high as Saba, whose enhancing streams - Cut 'twixt the Tartars and the Russians:[139] - There did I act as many brave attempts, - As did Pirothous for his Proserpine. - But leaving these such glories as they be, - I love, my lord; let that suffice for me. - - _Brand._ The bordering islands, seated here in ken, - Whose shores are sprinkled with rich orient pearl, - More bright of hue than were the margarites[140] - That Cæsar found in wealthy Albion; - The sands of Tagus all of burnish'd gold - Made Thetis never prouder on the clifts[141] - That overpeer the bright and golden shore, - Than do the rubbish of my country seas: - And what I dare, let say the Portingale, - And Spaniard tell, who, mann'd with mighty fleets, - Came to subdue my islands to their king, - Filling our seas with stately argosies, - Carvels and magars, hulks of burden great, - Which Brandimart rebated[142] from his coast, - And sent them home ballas'd with little wealth.[143] - But leaving these such glories as they be, - I love, my lord; let that suffice for me. - - _Orl._ Lords of the south, and princes of esteem, - Viceroys unto the state of Africa, - I am no king, yet am I princely born, - Descended from the royal house of France, - And nephew to the mighty Charlemagne, - Surnam'd Orlando, the County Palatine. - Swift fame hath sounded to our western seas - The matchless beauty of Angelica, - Fairer than was the nymph of Mercury, - Who, when bright Phœbus mounteth up his coach, - And tracts Aurora in her silver steps, - And sprinkles from the folding of her lap - White lilies, roses, and sweet violets. - Yet thus believe me, princes of the south, - Although my country's love, dearer than pearl - Or mines of gold, might well have kept me back; - The sweet conversing with my king and friends, - Left all for love, might well have kept me back; - The seas by Neptune hoisèd to the heavens, - Whose dangerous flaws[144] might well have kept me back; - The savage Moors and Anthropophagi, - Whose lands I pass'd, might well have kept me back; - The doubt of entertainment in the court - When I arriv'd, might well have kept me back; - But so the fame of fair Angelica - Stamp'd in my thoughts the figure of her love, - As neither country, king, or seas, or cannibals, - Could by despairing keep Orlando back. - I list not boast in acts of chivalry - (An humour never fitting with my mind), - But come there forth the proudest champion - That hath suspicion in the Palatine, - And with my trusty sword Durandell, - Single, I'll register upon his helm - What I dare do for fair Angelica. - But leaving these such glories as they be, - I love, my lord; - Angelica herself shall speak for me. - - _Mars._ Daughter, thou hear'st what love hath here alleg'd, - How all these kings, by beauty summon'd here, - Put in their pleas, for hope of diadem, - Of noble deeds, of wealth, and chivalry, - All hoping to possess Angelica. - Sith father's will may hap to aim amiss - (For parents' thoughts in love oft step awry), - Choose thou the man who best contenteth thee, - And he shall wear the Afric crown next me. - For trust me, daughter, like of whom thou please. - Thou satisfied, my thoughts shall be at ease. - - _Ang._ Kings of the South, viceroys of Africa, - Sith father's will hangs on his daughter's choice, - And I, as erst Princess Andromache - Seated amidst the crew of Priam's sons, - Have liberty to choose where best I love; - Must freely say, for fancy hath no fraud, - That far unworthy is Angelica - Of such as deign to grace her with their loves; - The Soldan with his seat in Babylon, - The Prince of Cuba, and of Mexico, - Whose wealthy crowns might win a woman's will, - Young Brandimart, master of all the isles - Where Neptune planted hath his treasury: - The worst of these men of so high import - As may command a greater dame than I. - But fortune, or some deep-inspiring fate, - Venus, or else the bastard brat of Mars, - Whose bow commands the motions of the mind, - Hath sent proud love to enter such a plea - As nonsuits all your princely evidence, - And flat commands that, maugre majesty, - I choose Orlando, County Palatine. - - _Rod._ How likes Marsilius of his daughter's choice? - - _Mars._ As fits Marsilius of his daughter's spouse. - - _Rod._ Highly thou wrong'st us, King of Africa, - To brave thy neighbour princes with disgrace, - To tie thine honour to thy daughter's thoughts, - Whose choice is like that Greekish giglot's[145] love - That left her lord, Prince Menelaus, - And with a swain made 'scape away to Troy. - What is Orlando but a straggling mate, - Banish'd for some offence by Charlemagne, - Skipp'd from his country as Anchises' son, - And means, as he did to the Carthage Queen, - To pay her ruth and ruin for her love? - - _Orl._ Injurious Cuba, ill it fits thy gree - To wrong a stranger with discourtesy. - Were't not the sacred presence of Angelica - Prevails with me, as Venus' smiles with Mars, - To set a supersedeas of my wrath, - Soon should I teach thee what it were to brave. - - _Mand._ And, Frenchman, were't not 'gainst the law of arms, - In place of parley for to draw a sword, - Untaught companion, I would learn you know - What duty 'longs to such a prince as he. - - _Orl._ Then as did Hector 'fore Achilles' tent, - Trotting his courser softly on the plains, - Proudly dar'd forth the stoutest youth of Greece; - So who stands highest in his own conceit, - And thinks his courage can perform the most, - Let him but throw his gauntlet on the ground, - And I will pawn my honour to his gage, - He shall ere night be met and combated. - - _Mars._ Shame you not, princes, at this bad agree, - To wrong a stranger with discourtesy? - Believe me, lords, my daughter hath made choice, - And, maugre him that thinks him most aggriev'd, - She shall enjoy the County Palatine. - - _Brand._ But would these princes follow my advice, - And enter arms as did the Greeks 'gainst Troy, - Nor he, nor thou should'st have Angelica. - - _Rod._ Let him be thought a dastard to his death, - That will not sell the travails he hath past - Dearer than for a woman's fooleries: - What says the mighty Mandricard? - - _Mand._ I vow to hie me home to Mexico, - To troop myself with such a crew of men - As shall so fill the downs of Africa - Like to the plains of watery Thessaly, - Whenas an eastern gale, whistling aloft, - Hath overspread the ground with grasshoppers. - Then see, Marsilius, if the Palatine - Can keep his love from falling to our lots, - Or thou canst keep thy country free from spoil. - - _Mars._ Why, think you, lords, with haughty menaces - To dare me out within my palace-gates? - Or hope you to make conquest by constraint - Of that which never could be got by love? - Pass from my court, make haste out of my land, - Stay not within the bounds Marsilius holds; - Lest, little brooking these unfitting braves, - My choler overslip the law of arms, - And I inflict revenge on such abuse. - - _Rod._ I'll beard and brave thee in thy proper town, - And here ensconce myself despite of thee, - And hold thee play till Mandricard return.-- - What says the mighty Soldan of Egýpt? - - _Sold._ That when Prince Menelaus with all his mates - Had ten years held their siege in Asia, - Folding their wraths in cinders of fair Troy, - Yet, for their arms grew by conceit of love, - Their trophies were but conquest of a girl: - Then trust me, lords, I'll never manage arms - For women's loves that are so quickly lost. - - _Brand._ Tush, my lords, why stand you upon terms? - Let us to our sconce,--and you, my lord, to Mexico. - - _Orl._ Ay, sirs, ensconce ye how you can, - See what we dare, and thereon set your rest. - [_Exeunt all except_ SACRIPANT _and his_ Man. - - _Sac._ [_aside_]. Boast not too much, Marsilius, in thyself, - Nor of contentment in Angelica; - For Sacripant must have Angelica, - And with her Sacripant must have the crown: - By hook or crook I must and will have both. - Ah sweet Revenge, incense their angry minds, - Till, all these princes weltering in their bloods, - The crown do fall to County Sacripant! - Sweet are the thoughts that smother from conceit: - For when I come and set me down to rest, - My chair presents a throne of majesty; - And when I set my bonnet on my head, - Methinks I fit my forehead for a crown; - And when I take my truncheon in my fist, - A sceptre then comes tumbling in my thoughts; - My dreams are princely, all of diadems. - Honour,--methinks the title is too base: - Mighty, glorious, and excellent,--ay, these, - My glorious genius, sound within my mouth; - These please the ear, and with a sweet applause, - Make me in terms coequal with the gods. - Then these, Sacripant, and none but these; - And these, or else make hazard of thy life. - Let it suffice, I will conceal the rest.-- - Sirrah! - - _Man._ My lord? - - _Sac._ [_aside_]. My lord! How basely was this slave brought up, - That knows no titles fit for dignity, - To grace his master with hyperboles! - My lord! Why, the basest baron of fair Africa - Deserves as much: yet County Sacripant - Must he a swain salute with name of lord.-- - Sirrah, what thinks the Emperor of my colours, - Because in field I wear both blue and red at once? - - _Man._ They deem, my lord, your honour lives at peace, - As one that's neuter in these mutinies, - And covets to rest equal friends to both; - Neither envious to Prince Mandricard, - Nor wishing ill unto Marsilius, - That you may safely pass where'er you please, - With friendly salutations from them both. - - _Sac._ Ay, so they guess, but level far awry; - For if they knew the secrets of my thoughts, - Mine emblem sorteth to another sense. - I wear not these as one resolv'd to peace, - But blue and red as enemy to both; - Blue, as hating King Marsilius, - And red, as in revenge to Mandricard: - Foe unto both, friend only to myself, - And to the crown, for that's the golden mark - Which makes my thoughts dream on a diadem. - See'st not thou all men presage I shall be king? - Marsilius sends to me for peace; - Mandricard puts off his cap, ten mile off: - Two things more, and then I cannot miss the crown. - - _Man._ O, what be those, my good lord? - - _Sac._ First must I get the love of fair Angelica. - Now am I full of amorous conceits, - Not that I doubt to have what I desire, - But how I might best with mine honour woo: - Write, or entreat,--fie, that fitteth not; - Send by ambassadors,--no, that's too base; - Flatly command,--ay, that's for Sacripant: - Say thou art Sacripant, and art in love, - And who in Africa dare say the county nay? - O Angelica, - Fairer than Chloris when in all her pride - Bright Maia's son entrapp'd her in the net - Wherewith Vulcan entangled the god of war! - -_Man._ Your honour is so far in contemplation of Angelica as you have -forgot the second in attaining to the crown. - -_Sac._ That's to be done by poison, prowess, or any means of treachery, -to put to death the traitorous Orlando.--But who is this comes here? -Stand close. [_They retire._ - - _Enter_ ORGALIO. - -_Org._ I am sent on embassage to the right mighty and magnificent, -alias, the right proud and pontifical, the County Sacripant; for -Marsilius and Orlando, knowing him to be as full of prowess as policy, -and fearing lest in leaning to the other faction he might greatly -prejudice them, they seek first to hold the candle before the devil, -and knowing him to be a Thrasonical mad-cap, they have sent me a -Gnathonical[146] companion, to give him lettuce fit for his lips. Now, -sir, knowing his astronomical humours, as one that gazeth so high at -the stars as he never looketh on the pavement in the streets,--but -whist! _lupus est in fabula._ - -_Sac._ [_coming forward_]. Sirrah, thou that ruminatest to thyself a -catalogue of privy conspiracies, what art thou? - -_Org._ God save your majesty! - -_Sac._ [_aside_]. My majesty!--Come hither, my well-nutrimented knave; -whom takest me to be? - -_Org._ The mighty Mandricard of Mexico. - -_Sac._ [_aside_]. I hold these salutations as ominous; for saluting -me by that which I am not, he presageth what I shall be: for so did -the Lacedæmonians by Agathocles, who of a base potter wore the kingly -diadem.--But why deemest thou me to be the mighty Mandricard of Mexico? - -_Org._ Marry, sir,-- - -_Sac._ Stay there: wert thou never in France? - -_Org._ Yes, if it please your majesty. - -_Sac._ So it seems, for there they salute their king by the name of -Sir, Monsieur:--but forward. - -_Org._ Such sparks of peerless majesty -From those looks flame, like lightning from the east, -As either Mandricard, or else some greater prince,-- - -_Sac._ [_aside_]. Methinks these salutations make my thoughts -To be heroical:--but say, to whom art thou sent? - -_Org._ To the County Sacripant. - -_Sac._ Why, I am he. - -_Org._ It pleaseth your majesty to jest. - -_Sac._ Whate'er I seem, I tell thee I am he. - -_Org._ Then may it please your honour, the Emperor Marsilius, together -with his daughter Angelica and Orlando, entreateth your excellency to -dine with them. - -_Sac._ Is Angelica there? - -_Org._ There, my good lord. - -_Sac._ Sirrah. - -_Man._ My lord? - -_Sac._ Villain, Angelica sends for me: see that thou entertain that -happy messenger, and bring him in with thee. [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE II.--_Before the Walls of_ RODOMONT'S _Castle._ - - _Enter_ ORLANDO, _the_ DUKE OF AQUITAIN, _and the_ COUNTY ROSSILION, - _with_ Soldiers. - - _Orl._ Princes of France, the sparkling light of fame, - Whose glory's brighter than the burnish'd gates - From whence Latona's lordly son doth march, - When, mounted on his coach tinsell'd with flames, - He triumphs in the beauty of the heavens; - This is the place where Rodomont lies hid: - Here lies he, like the thief of Thessaly, - Which scuds abroad and searcheth for his prey, - And, being gotten, straight he gallops home, - As one that dares not break a spear in field. - But trust me, princes, I have girt his fort, - And I will sack it, or on this castle-wall - I'll write my resolution with my blood:-- - Therefore, drum, sound a parle. - [_A parle is sounded, and_ a Soldier _comes upon the walls._ - - _Sol._ Who is't that troubleth our sleeps? - - _Orl._ Why, sluggard, seest thou not Lycaon's son, - The hardy plough-swain unto mighty Jove, - Hath trac'd his silver furrows in the heavens, - And, turning home his over-watchèd team, - Gives leave unto Apollo's chariot? - I tell thee, sluggard, sleep is far unfit - For such as still have hammering in their heads, - But only hope of honour and revenge: - These call'd me forth to rouse thy master up. - Tell him from me, false coward as he is, - That Orlando, the County Palatine, - Is come this morning, with a band of French, - To play him hunt's-up with a point of war; - I'll be his minstrel with my drum and fife; - Bid him come forth, and dance it if he dare, - Let fortune throw her favours where she list. - - _Sol._ Frenchman, between half-sleeping and awake, - Although the misty veil strain'd over Cynthia - Hinders my sight from noting all thy crew, - Yet, for I know thee and thy straggling grooms - Can in conceit build castles in the sky, - But in your actions like the stammering Greek - Which breathes his courage bootless in the air, - I wish thee well, Orlando, get thee gone, - Say that a sentinel did suffer thee; - For if the round or court-of-guard should hear - Thou or thy men were braying at the walls, - Charles' wealth, the wealth of all his western mines, - Found in the mountains of Transalpine France, - Might not pay ransom to the king for thee. - - _Orl._ Brave sentinel, if nature hath enchas'd - A sympathy of courage to thy tale, - And, like the champion of Andromache, - Thou, or thy master, dare come out the gates, - Maugre the watch, the round, or court-of-guard, - I will attend to abide the coward here. - If not, but still the craven sleeps secure, - Pitching his guard within a trench of stones, - Tell him his walls shall serve him for no proof, - But as the son of Saturn in his wrath - Pash'd[147] all the mountains at Typhœus' head, - And topsy-turvy turn'd the bottom up, - So shall the castle of proud Rodomont.-- - And so, brave lords of France, let's to the fight. - [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE III.--_A Battle-field._ - - _Alarums:_ RODOMONT _and_ BRANDIMART _fly. Enter_ ORLANDO _with_ - RODOMONT'S _coat._ - - _Orl._ The fox is scap'd, but here's his case: - I miss'd him near; 'twas time for him to trudge. - [_Enter the_ DUKE OF AQUITAIN. - How now, my lord of Aquitain! - - _Aq._ My lord, the court-of-guard is put unto the sword - And all the watch that thought themselves so sure, - So that not one within the castle breathes. - - _Orl._ Come then, let's post amain to find out Rodomont, - And then in triumph march unto Marsilius. [_Exeunt._ - - - - -ACT THE SECOND - - -SCENE I.--_Near the Castle of_ MARSILIUS. - - _Enter_ MEDOR _and_ ANGELICA. - - _Ang._ I marvel, Medor, what my father means - To enter league with County Sacripant? - - _Med._ Madam, the king your father's wise enough; - He knows the county, like to Cassius, - Sits sadly dumping, aiming Cæsar's death, - Yet crying "Ave" to his majesty.[148] - But, madam, mark awhile, and you shall see - Your father shake him off from secrecy. - - _Ang._ So much I guess; for when he will'd I should - Give entertainment to the doting earl, - His speech was ended with a frowning smile. - - _Med._ Madam, see where he comes; I will be gone. - [_Exit._ - - _Enter_ SACRIPANT _and his_ Man. - - _Sac._ How fares my fair Angelica? - - _Ang._ Well, that my lord so friendly is in league, - As honour wills him, with Marsilius. - - _Sac._ Angelica, shall I have a word or two with thee? - - _Ang._ What pleaseth my lord for to command? - - _Sac._ Then know, my love, I cannot paint my grief, - Nor tell a tale of Venus and her son, - Reporting such a catalogue of toys: - It fits not Sacripant to be effeminate. - Only give leave, my fair Angelica, - To say, the county is in love with thee. - - _Ang._ Pardon, my lord; my loves are over-past: - So firmly is Orlando printed in my thoughts, - As love hath left no place for any else. - - _Sac._ Why, overweening damsel, see'st thou not - Thy lawless love unto this straggling mate - Hath fill'd our Afric regions full of blood? - And wilt thou still perséver in thy love? - Tush, leave the Palatine, and go with me. - - _Ang._ Brave county, know, where sacred love unites, - The knot of gordian at the shrine of Jove - Was never half so hard or intricate - As be the bands which lovely Venus ties. - Sweet is my love; and, for I love, my lord, - Seek not, unless as Alexander did, - To cut the plough-swain's traces with thy sword, - Or slice the slender fillets of my life: - For else, my lord, Orlando must be mine. - - _Sac._ Stand I on love? Stoop I to Venus' lure, - That never yet did fear the god of war? - Shall men report that County Sacripant - Held lovers' pains for pining passions? - Shall such a siren offer me more wrong - Than they did to the prince of Ithaca? - No; as he his ears, so, county, stop thine eye. - Go to your needle, lady, and your clouts; - Go to such milksops as are fit for love: - I will employ my busy brains for war. - - _Ang._ Let not, my lord, denial breed offence: - Love doth allow her favours but to one, - Nor can there sit within the sacred shrine - Of Venus more than one installèd heart. - Orlando is the gentleman I love, - And more than he may not enjoy my love. - - _Sac._ Damsel, begone: fancy[149] hath taken leave; - Where I took hurt, there have I heal'd myself, - As those that with Achilles' lance were wounded, - Fetch'd help at self-same pointed spear. - Beauty can brave, and beauty hath repulse; - And, beauty, get ye gone to your Orlando. - [_Exit_ ANGELICA. - - _Man._ My lord, hath love amated[150] him whose thoughts - Have ever been heroical and brave? - Stand you in dumps, like to the Myrmidon - Trapt in the tresses of Polyxena, - Who, amid the glory of his chivalry, - Sat daunted with a maid of Asia? - - _Sac._ Thinkst thou my thoughts are lunacies of love? - No, they are brands firèd in Pluto's forge, - Where sits Tisiphone tempering in flames - Those torches that do set on fire revenge. - I lov'd the dame; but brav'd by her repulse, - Hate calls me on to quittance all my ills; - Which first must come by offering prejudice - Unto Orlando her belovèd love. - - _Man._ O, how may that be brought to pass, my lord? - - _Sac._ Thus. Thou see'st that Medor and Angelica - Are still so secret in their private walks, - As that they trace the shady lawnds, - And thickest-shadow'd groves, - Which well may breed suspicion of some love. - Now, than the French no nation under heaven - Is sooner touch'd with sting of jealousy. - - _Man._ And what of that, my lord? - - _Sac._ Hard by, for solace, in a secret grove, - The county once a-day fails not to walk: - There solemnly he ruminates his love. - Upon those shrubs that compass-in the spring, - And on those trees that border-in those walks, - I'll slily have engrav'n on every bark - The names of Medor and Angelica. - Hard by, I'll have some roundelays hung up, - Wherein shall be some posies of their loves, - Fraughted so full of fiery passions - As that the county shall perceive by proof - Medor hath won his fair Angelica. - - _Man._ Is this all, my lord? - - _Sac._ No; for thou like to a shepherd shalt be cloth'd, - With staff and bottle, like some country-swain - That tends his flocks feeding upon these downs. - Here see thou buzz into the county's ears - That thou hast often seen within these woods - Base Medor sporting with Angelica; - And when he hears a shepherd's simple tale, - He will not think 'tis feign'd. - Then either a madding mood will end his love, - Or worse betide him through fond jealousy. - - _Man._ Excellent, my lord; see how I will play the shepherd. - - _Sac._ And mark thou how I play the carver: - Therefore be gone, and make thee ready straight. - [_Exit his_ Man. - - [SACRIPANT _carves the names and hangs up the roundelays on the trees, - and then goes out._ - - _Re-enter his_ Man _attired like a shepherd._ - - _Shep._ Thus all alone, and like a shepherd's swain, - As Paris, when Œnone lov'd him well, - Forgat he was the son of Priamus, - All clad in grey, sat piping on a reed; - So I transformèd to this country shape, - Haunting these groves do work my master's will, - To plague the Palatine with jealousy, - And to conceit him with some deep extreme.-- - Here comes the man unto his wonted walk. - - _Enter_ ORLANDO _and_ ORGALIO. - - _Orl._ Orgalio, go see a sentinel be plac'd, - And bid the soldiers keep a court-of-guard, - So to hold watch till secret here alone - I meditate upon the thoughts of love. - - _Org._ I will, my lord. [_Exit._ - - _Orl._ Fair queen of love, thou mistress of delight, - Thou gladsome lamp that wait'st on Phœbe's train, - Spreading thy kindness through the jarring orbs, - That in their union praise thy lasting powers; - Thou that hast stay'd the fiery Phlegon's course, - And mad'st the coachman of the glorious wain - To droop, in view of Daphne's excellence; - Fair pride of morn, sweet beauty of the even,[151] - Look on Orlando languishing in love. - Sweet solitary groves, whereas the nymphs - With pleasance laugh to see the satyrs play, - Witness Orlando's faith unto his love. - Tread she these lawnds, kind Flora, boast thy pride. - Seek she for shade, spread, cedars, for her sake. - Fair Flora, make her couch amidst thy flowers. - Sweet crystal springs, - Wash ye with roses when she longs to drink. - Ah, thought, my heaven! ah, heaven, that knows my thought! - Smile, joy in her that my content hath wrought. - - _Shep._ [_aside_]. The heaven of love is but a pleasant hell, - Where none but foolish-wise imprison'd dwell. - - _Orl._ Orlando, what contrarious thoughts be these, - That flock with doubtful motions in thy mind? - Heaven smiles, and trees do boast their summer pride. - What! Venus writes her triumphs here beside. - - _Shep._ [_aside_]. Yet when thine eye hath seen, thy heart shall rue - The tragic chance that shortly shall ensue. - - _Orl._ [_reads_]. "_Angelica_":--ah, sweet and heavenly name, - Life to my life, and essence to my joy! - But, soft! this gordian knot together co-unites - A Medor partner in her peerless love. - Unkind, and will she bend her thoughts to change? - Her name, her writing! Ah foolish and unkind! - No name of hers, unless the brooks relent - To hear her name, and Rhodanus vouchsafe - To raise his moisten'd locks from out the reeds, - And flow with calm alongst his turning bounds: - No name of hers, unless the Zephyr blow - Her dignities alongst Ardenia woods, - Where all the world for wonders do await. - And yet her name! for why Angelica; - But, mix'd with Medor, not Angelica. - Only by me was lov'd Angelica, - Only for me must live Angelica. - I find her drift: perhaps the modest pledge - Of my content hath with a secret smile - And sweet disguise restrain'd her fancy thus, - Figuring Orlando under Medor's name; - Fine drift, fair nymph! Orlando hopes no less. - [_Spies the roundelays._ - Yet more! are Muses masking in these trees, - Framing their ditties in conceited lines, - Making a goddess, in despite of me, - That have no other but Angelica? - - _Shep._ [_aside_]. Poor hapless man, these thoughts contain thy hell! - - _Orl._ [_reads_]. - "_Angelica is lady of his heart,_ - _Angelica is substance of his joy,_ - _Angelica is medicine of his smart,_ - _Angelica hath healèd his annoy._" - Ah, false Angelica!--what, have we more? - [_Reads._ - "_Let groves, let rocks, let woods, let watery springs,_ - _The cedar, cypress, laurel, and the pine,_ - _Joy in the notes of love that Medor sings_ - _Of those sweet looks, Angelica, of thine._ - _Then, Medor, in Angelica take delight,_ - _Early, at morn, at noon, at even and night._" - What, dares Medor court my Venus? - What may Orlando deem? - Ætna, forsake the bounds of Sicily, - For now in me thy restless flames appear. - Refus'd, contemn'd, disdain'd! what worse than these?--Orgalio! - - _Re-enter_ ORGALIO. - - _Org._ My lord? - - _Orl._ Boy, view these trees carvèd with true love-knots, - The inscription "_Medor and Angelica_?"; - And read these verses hung up of their loves: - Now tell me, boy, what dost thou think? - - _Org._ By my troth, my lord, I think Angelica is a woman. - - _Orl._ And what of that? - -_Org._ Therefore unconstant, mutable, having their loves hanging in -their eyelids; that as they are got with a look, so they are lost again -with a wink. But here's a shepherd; it may be he can tell us news. - - _Orl._ What messenger hath Ate sent abroad - With idle looks to listen my laments?-- - Sirrah, who wrongèd happy nature so, - To spoil these trees with this "_Angelica_?"-- - Yet in her name, Orlando, they are blest. - - _Shep._ I am a shepherd-swain, thou wandering knight, - That watch my flocks, not one that follow love. - - _Orl._ As follow love! why darest thou dispraise my heaven, - Or once disgrace or prejudice her name? - Is not Angelica the queen of love, - Deck'd with the compound wreath of Adon's flowers? - She is. Then speak, thou peasant, what is he - That dares attempt to court my queen of love, - Or I shall send thy soul to Charon's charge. - - _Shep._ Brave knight, since fear of death enforceth still - To greater minds submission and relent, - Know that this Medor, whose unhappy name - Is mixèd with the fair Angelica's, - Is even that Medor that enjoys her love. - Yon cave bears witness of their kind content; - Yon meadows talk the actions of their joy; - Our shepherds in their songs of solace sing, - "Angelica doth none but Medor love." - - _Orl._ Angelica doth none but Medor love! - Shall Medor, then, possess Orlando's love? - Dainty and gladsome beams of my delight; - Delicious brows, why smile your heavens for those - That, wounding you, prove poor Orlando's foes? - Lend me your plaints, you sweet Arcadian nymphs, - That wont to sing your new-departed loves; - Thou weeping flood, leavé Orpheus' wail for me; - And, Titan's nieces, gather all in one - Those fluent springs of your lamenting tears, - And let them stream along my faintful looks. - - _Shep._ [_aside_]. Now is the fire, late smother'd in suspect, - Kindled, and burns within his angry breast: - Now have I done the will of Sacripant. - - _Orl. Fœmineum servile genus, crudele, superbum:_ - Discourteous women, nature's fairest ill, - The woe of man, that first-created curse, - Base female sex, sprung from black Ate's loins, - Proud, disdainful, cruel, and unjust, - Whose words are shaded with enchanting wiles, - Worse than Medusa mateth all our minds; - And in their hearts sits shameless treachery, - Turning a truthless vile circumference. - O, could my fury paint their furies forth! - For hell's no hell, comparèd to their hearts, - Too simple devils to conceal their arts; - Born to be plagues unto the thoughts of men, - Brought for eternal pestilence to the world. - - _O femminile ingegno, dituttimali sede,_ - _Come ti volgi e muti facilmente,_ - _Contrario oggetto proprio de la fede!_ - _O infelice, O miser chi ti crede!_ - _Importune, superbe, dispettose,_ - _Prive d'amor, di fede e di consiglio,_ - _Timerarie, crudeli, inique, ingrate,_ - _Per pestilenzia eterna al mondo nate._[152] - - Villain, what art thou that followest me? - -_Org._ Alas, my lord, I am your servant, Orgalio. - -_Orl._ No, villain, thou art Medor; that rann'st away with Angelica. - -_Org._ No, by my troth, my lord, I am Orgalio; ask all these people else. - -_Orl._ Art thou Orgalio? tell me where Medor is. - -_Org._ My lord, look where he sits. - -_Orl._ What, sits he here, and braves me too? - -_Shep._ No, truly, sir, I am not he. - -_Orl._ Yes, villain. [_Draws him in by the leg._ - -_Org._ Help, help, my lord of Aquitain! - - _Enter the_ DUKE OF AQUITAIN _and_ Soldiers. - -O, my lord of Aquitain, the Count Orlando is run mad, and taking of a -shepherd by the heels, rends him as one would tear a lark! See where he -comes, with a leg on his neck. - - _Re-enter_ ORLANDO _with a leg._ - - _Orl._ Villain, provide me straight a lion's skin, - Thou see'st I now am mighty Hercules; - Look where's my massy club upon my neck. - I must to hell to fight with Cerberus, - And find out Medor there or else I die.[153] - You that are the rest, get you quickly away; - Provide ye horses all of burnish'd gold, - Saddles of cork, because I'll have them light; - For Charlemagne the great is up in arms, - And Arthur with a crew of Britons comes - To seek for Medor and Angelica. - [_So he beateth them all in before him, except_ ORGALIO. - - _Enter_ MARSILIUS. - - _Org._ Ah, my lord, Orlando-- - - _Mars._ Orlando! what of Orlando? - - _Org._ He, my lord, runs madding through the woods, - Like mad Orestes in his greatest rage. - Step but aside into the bordering grove, - There shall you see engraven on every tree - The lawless love of Medor and Angelica. - O, see, my lord, not any shrub but bears - The cursèd stamp that wrought the county's rage. - If thou be'st mighty King Marsilius, - For whom the county would adventure life, - Revenge it on the false Angelica. - - _Mars._ Trust me, Orgalio, Theseus in his rage - Did never more revenge his wrong'd Hippolytus - Than I will on the false Angelica. - Go to my court, and drag me Medor forth; - Tear from his breast the daring villain's heart. - Next take that base and damn'd adulteress,-- - I scorn to title her with daughter's name,-- - Put her in rags, and, like some shepherdess, - Exile her from my kingdom presently. - Delay not, good Orgalio, see it done. - [_Exit_ ORGALIO. - - _Enter a_ Soldier, _with_ MANDRICARD _disguised._ - - How now, my friend! what fellow hast thou there? - - _Sol._ He says, my lord, that he is servant unto Mandricard. - - _Mars._ To Mandricard! - It fits me not who sway the diadem, - And rule the wealthy realms of Barbary, - To stain my thoughts with any cowardice.-- - Thy master brav'd me to my teeth, - He back'd the Prince of Cuba for my foe; - For which nor he nor his shall 'scape my hands. - No, soldier, think me resolute as he. - - _Mand._ It grieves me much that princes disagree, - Sith black repentance followeth afterward: - But leaving that, pardon me, gracious lord. - - _Mars._ For thou entreat'st, and newly art arriv'd, - And yet thy sword is not imbru'd in blood; - Upon conditions, I will pardon thee,-- - That thou shalt never tell thy master, Mandricard, - Nor any fellow-soldier of the camp, - That King Marsilius licens'd thee depart: - He shall not think I am so much his friend, - That he or one of his shall 'scape my hand. - - _Mand_ I swear, my lord, and vow to keep my word. - - _Mars._ Then take my banderol[154] of red; - Mine, and none but mine, shall honour thee, - And safe conduct thee to Port Carthagene. - - _Mand._ But say, my lord, if Mandricard were here, - What favour should he find, or life or death? - - _Mars._ I tell thee, friend, it fits not for a king - To prize his wrath before his courtesy. - Were Mandricard, the King of Mexico, - In prison here, and crav'd but liberty, - So little hate hangs in Marsilius' breast, - As one entreaty should quite raze it out. - But this concerns not thee, therefore, farewell. - - _Mand._ Thanks, and good fortune fall to such a king, - As covets to be counted courteous. - [_Exit_ MARSILIUS. - Blush, Mandricard; the honour of thy foe disgraceth thee; - Thou wrongest him that wisheth thee but well; - Thou bringest store of men from Mexico - To battle him that scorns to injure thee, - Pawning his colours for thy warrantise. - Back to thy ships, and hie thee to thy home; - Budge not a foot to aid Prince Rodomont; - But friendly gratulate these favours found, - And meditate on naught but to be friends. - [_Exeunt._ - - - - -ACT THE THIRD - - -SCENE I.--_The Woods near the Castle of_ MARSILIUS. - - _Enter_ ORLANDO _attired like a madman._ - -_Orl._ Woods, trees, leaves; leaves, trees, woods; _tria sequuntur -tria_.--Ho, Minerva! _salve_, good-morrow; how do you to-day? Tell me, -sweet goddess, will Jove send Mercury to Calypso, to let me go? will -he? why, then, he's a gentleman, every hair o' the head on him.--But, -ho, Orgalio! where art thou, boy? - - _Enter_ ORGALIO. - -_Org._ Here, my lord: did you call me? - -_Orl._ No, nor name thee. - -_Org._ Then God be with you. [_Proffers to go in._ - -_Orl._ Nay, prithee, good Orgalio, stay: -Canst thou not tell me what to say? - -_Org._ No, by my troth. - -_Orl._ O, this it is; Angelica is dead. - -_Org._ Why, then, she shall be buried. - -_Orl._ But my Angelica is dead. - -_Org._ Why, it may be so. - -_Orl._ But she's dead and buried. - -_Org._ Ay, I think so. - -_Orl._ Nothing but "I think so," and "It may be so!" [_Beats him._ - -_Org._ What do ye mean, my lord? - -_Orl._ Why, shall I tell you that my love is dead, and can ye not weep -for her? - -_Org._ Yes, yes, my lord, I will. - -_Orl._ Well, do so, then. Orgalio. - -_Org._ My lord? - -_Orl._ Angelica is dead. [ORGALIO _cries._] Ah, poor slave! so, cry no -more now. - -_Org._ Nay, I have quickly done. - -_Orl._ Orgalio. - -_Org._ My lord? - -_Orl._ Medor's Angelica is dead. [ORGALIO _cries, and_ ORLANDO _beats -him again._ - -_Org._ Why do ye beat me, my lord? - -_Orl._ Why, slave, wilt thou weep for Medor's Angelica? thou must laugh -for her. - -_Org._ Laugh! yes, I'll laugh all day, an you will. - -_Orl._ Orgalio. - -_Org._ My lord? - -_Orl._ Medor's Angelica is dead. - -_Org._ Ha, ha, ha, ha! - -_Orl._ So, 'tis well now. - -_Org._ Nay, this is easier than the other was. - -_Orl._ Now away! seek the herb moly;[155] for I must to hell, to seek -for Medor and Angelica. - -_Org._ I know not the herb moly, i'faith. - -_Orl._ Come, I'll lead ye to it by the ears. - -_Org._ 'Tis here, my lord, 'tis here. - -_Orl._ 'Tis indeed. Now to Charon, bid him dress his boat, for he had -never such a passenger. - -_Org._ Shall I tell him your name? - -_Orl._ No, then he will be afraid, and not be at home. [_Exit_ ORGALIO. - - _Enter_ TOM _and_ RALPH. - -_Tom._ Sirrah Ralph, an thou'lt go with me, I'll let thee see the -bravest madman that ever thou sawest. - -_Ralph._ Sirrah Tom, I believe 'twas he that was at our town a' Sunday: -I'll tell thee what he did, sirrah. He came to our house, when all our -folks were gone to church, and there was nobody at home but I, and I -was turning of the spit, and he comes in, and bade me fetch him some -drink. Now, I went and fetched him some; and ere I came again, by my -troth, he ran away with the roast-meat, spit and all, and so we had -nothing but porridge to dinner. - -_Tom._ By my troth, that was brave: but, sirrah, he did so course the -boys, last Sunday; and if ye call him madman, he'll run after you, -and tickle your ribs so with his flap of leather that he hath, as it -passeth.[156] [_They spy_ ORLANDO. - -_Ralph._ O, Tom, look where he is! call him madman. - -_Tom._ Madman, madman. - -_Ralph._ Madman, madman. - -_Orl._ What say'st thou, villain? [_Beats them._ -So, now you shall be both my soldiers. - -_Tom._ Your soldiers! we shall have a mad captain, then. - -_Orl._ You must fight against Medor. - -_Ralph._ Yes, let me alone with him for a bloody nose. - -_Orl._ Come, then, and I will give you weapons straight. [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE II.--_An Open Place in the Woods._ - - _Enter_ ANGELICA, _like a poor woman._ - -_Ang._ Thus causeless banish'd from thy native home, -Here sit, Angelica, and rest a while, -For to bewail the fortunes of thy love. - - _Enter_ RODOMONT _and_ BRANDIMART, _with_ Soldiers. - -_Rod._ This way she went, and far she cannot be. - -_Brand._ See where she is, my lord: speak as if you knew her not. - -_Rod._ Fair shepherdess, for so thy sitting seems, -Or nymph, for less thy beauty cannot be, -What, feed you sheep upon these downs? - -_Ang._ Daughter I am unto a bordering swain, -That tend my flocks within these shady groves. - -_Rod._ Fond girl, thou liest; thou art Angelica. - -_Brand._ Ay, thou art she that wrong'd the Palatine. - -_Ang._ For I am known, albeit I am disguis'd, -Yet dare I turn the lie into thy throat, -Sith thou report'st I wrong'd the Palatine. - -_Brand._ Nay, then, thou shalt be used according to thy deserts.--Come, -bring her to our tents. - -_Rod._ But stay, what drum is this? - - _Enter_ ORLANDO _with a drum_; ORGALIO; TOM, RALPH, _and others as_ - Soldiers, _with spits and dripping-pans._ - -_Brand._ Now see, Angelica, the fruits of all your love. - -_Orl._ Soldiers, this is the city of great Babylon, -Where proud Darius was rebated from: -Play but the men, and I will lay my head, -We'll sack and raze it ere the sun be set. - -_Tom._ Yea, and scratch it too.--March fair, fellow frying-pan. - -_Orl._ Orgalio, knowest thou the cause of my laughter? - -_Org._ No, by my troth, nor no wise man else. - -_Orl._ Why, sirrah, to think that if the enemy were fled ere we come, -we'll not leave one of our own soldiers alive, for we two will kill -them with our fists. - -_Ralph._ Foh, come, let's go home again: he'll set _probatum est_ upon -my head-piece anon. - -_Orl._ No, no, thou shalt not be hurt,--nor thee. -Back, soldiers; look where the enemy is. - -_Tom._ Captain, they have a woman amongst them. - -_Orl._ And what of that? - -_Tom._ Why, strike you down the men, and then let me alone to thrust in -the woman. - -_Orl._ No, I am challengèd the single fight.-- -Sirrah, is't you challenge me the combat? - -_Brand._ Frantic companion, lunatic and wood,[157] -Get thee hence, or else I vow by heaven, -Thy madness shall not privilege thy life. - -_Orl._ I tell thee, villain, Medor wrong'd me so, -Sith thou art come his champion to the field, -I'll learn thee know I am the Palatine. - - _Alarum: they fight;_ ORLANDO _kills_ BRANDIMART; _and all the rest - fly, except_ ANGELICA _and_ ORGALIO. - -_Org._ Look, my lord, here's one killed. - -_Orl._ Who killed him? - -_Org._ You, my lord, I think. - -_Orl._ I! no, no, I see who killed him. -[_Goes to_ ANGELICA, _and knows her not._ -Come hither, gentle sir, whose prowess hath performed such an act: -think not the courteous Palatine will hinder that thine honour hath -achieved.--Orgalio, fetch me a sword, that presently this squire may be -dubbed a knight. - -_Ang._ [_aside_]. Thanks, gentle fortune, that sends me such good hap, -Rather to die by him I love so dear, -Than live and see my lord thus lunatic. - -_Org._ [_giving a sword_]. Here, my lord. - -_Orl._ If thou be'st come of Lancelot's worthy line, welcome thou art. -Kneel down, sir knight; rise up, sir knight; -Here, take this sword, and hie thee to the fight. -[_Exit_ ANGELICA _with the sword._ - -Now tell me, Orgalio, what dost thou think? will not this knight prove -a valiant squire? - -_Org._ He cannot choose, being of your making. - -_Orl._ But where's Angelica now? - -_Org._ Faith, I cannot tell. - -_Orl._ Villain, find her out, -Or else the torments that Ixion feels, -The rolling stone, the tubs of the Belides--[158] -Villain, wilt thou find her out? - -_Org._ Alas, my lord, I know not where she is. - -_Orl._ Run to Charlemagne, spare for no cost; -Tell him, Orlando sent for Angelica. - -_Org._ Faith, I'll fetch you such an Angelica as you never saw before. -[_Exit._ - - _Orl._ As though that Sagittarius in his pride - Could take brave Leda from stout Jupiter! - And yet, forsooth, Medor, base Medor durst - Attempt to reave Orlando of his love. - Sirrah, you that are the messenger of Jove, - You that can sweep it through the milk-white path - That leads unto the senate-house of Mars, - Fetch me my shield temper'd of purest steel, - My helm forg'd by the Cyclops for Anchises' son - And see if I dare combat for Angelica. - - _Re-enter_ ORGALIO _with_ TOM[159] _dressed like_ ANGELICA. - -_Org._ Come away, and take heed you laugh not. - -_Tom._ No, I warrant you; but I think I had best go back and shave my -beard. - -_Org._ Tush, that will not be seen. - -_Tom._ Well, you will give me the half-crown ye promised me? - -_Org._ Doubt not of that, man. - -_Tom._ Sirrah, didst not see me serve the fellow a fine trick, when we -came over the market-place? - -_Org._ Why, how was that? - -_Tom._ Why, he comes to me and said, "Gentlewoman, wilt please you take -a pint or a quart?" "No gentlewoman," said I, "but your friend and -Dority." - -_Org._ Excellent!--Come, see where my lord is.--My lord, here is -Angelica. - -_Orl._ Mass, thou say'st true, 'tis she indeed.--How fares the fair -Angelica? - -_Tom._ Well, I thank you heartily. - - -_Orl._ Why, art thou not that same Angelica, -With brows as bright as fair Erythea -That darks Canopus[160] with her silver hue? - -_Tom._ Yes, forsooth. - -_Orl._ Are not these the beauteous cheeks -Wherein the lily and the native rose -Sit equal-suited with a blushing red? - -_Tom._ He makes a garden-plot in my face. - -_Orl._ Are not, my dear, those [the] radiant eyes, -Whereout proud Phœbus flasheth out his beams? - -_Tom._ Yes, yes, with squibs and crackers bravely. - -_Orl._ You are Angelica? - -_Tom._ Yes, marry, am I. - -_Orl._ Where's your sweetheart Medor? - -_Tom._ Orgalio, give me eighteen-pence, and let me go. - -_Orl._ Speak, strumpet, speak. - -_Tom._ Marry, sir, he is drinking a pint or a quart. - -_Orl._ Why, strumpet, worse than Mars his trothless love, -Falser than faithless Cressida! strumpet, thou shalt not 'scape. -[_Beats him._ - -_Tom._ Come, come, you do not use me like a gentlewoman: an if I be not -for you, I am for another. - -_Orl._ Are you? that will I try. [_Beats him out. Exeunt._ - - - - -ACT THE FOURTH - - -SCENE I.--_The Camp of the_ Twelve Peers of France. - - _Enter the_ Twelve Peers of France, _with drum and trumpets._ - - - _Ogier._ Brave peers of France, sith we have pass'd the bounds, - Whereby the wrangling billows seek for straits - To war with Tellus, and her fruitful mines; - Sith we have furrow'd through those wandering tides - Of Tyrrhene seas, and made our galleys dance - Upon the Hyperborean billows' crests, - That brave with streams the watery occident; - And found the rich and wealthy Indian clime, - Sought-to by greedy minds for hurtful gold; - Now let us seek to venge the lamp of France - That lately was eclipsèd in Angelica; - Now let us seek Orlando forth, our peer, - Though from his former wits lately estrang'd, - Yet famous in our favours as before; - And, sith by chance we all encounter'd be, - Let's seek revenge on her that wrought his wrong. - - _Namus._ But being thus arriv'd in place unknown, - Who shall direct our course unto the court - Where brave Marsilius keeps his royal state? - - _Ogier._ Lo, here, two Indian palmers hard at hand, - Who can perhaps resolve our hidden doubts. - - _Enter_ MARSILIUS _and_ MANDRICARD _like Palmers._ - -Palmers, God speed. - -_Mars._ Lordings, we greet you well. - -_Ogier._ Where lies Marsilius' court, friend, canst thou tell? - -_Mars._ His court's his camp; the prince is now in arms. - -_Turpin._ In arms! What's he that dares annoy so great a king? - - _Mand._ Such as both love and fury do confound: - Fierce Sacripant, incens'd with strange desires, - Wars on Marsilius, and, Rodomont being dead, - Hath levied all his men, and traitor-like - Assails his lord and loving sovereign: - And Mandricard, who late hath been in arms - To prosecute revenge against Marsilius, - Is now through favours past become his friend. - Thus stands the state of matchless India. - - _Ogier._ Palmer, I like thy brave and brief discourse; - And, couldst thou bring us to the prince's camp, - We would acknowledge friendship at thy hands. - - _Mars._ Ye stranger lords, why seek ye out Marsilius? - - _Ogier._ In hope that he, whose empire is so large, - Will make both mind and monarchy agree. - - _Mars._ Whence are you, lords, and what request you here? - - _Namus._ A question over-haughty for thy weed, - Fit for the king himself for to propound. - - _Mand._ O, sir, know that under simple weeds - The gods have mask'd: then deem not with disdain - To answer to this palmer's question, - Whose coat includes perhaps as great as yours. - - _Ogier._ Haughty their words, their persons full of state; - Though habit be but mean, their minds excel.-- - Well, palmers, know that princes are in India arriv'd, - Yea, even those western princely peers of France - That through the world adventures undertake, - To find Orlando late incens'd with rage. - Then, palmers, sith you know our styles and state, - Advise us where your king Marsilius is. - - _Mars._ Lordings of France, here is Marsilius, - That bids you welcome into India, - And will in person bring you to his camp. - - _Ogier._ Marsilius! and thus disguis'd! - - _Mars._ Even Marsilius, and thus disguis'd. - But what request these princes at my hand? - - _Turpin._ We sue for law and justice at thy hand: - We seek Angelica thy daughter out; - That wanton maid, that hath eclips'd the joy - Of royal France, and made Orlando mad. - - _Mars._ My daughter, lords! why, she is exil'd; - And her griev'd father is content to lose - The pleasance of his age, to countenance law. - - _Oliver._ Not only exile shall await Angelica, - But death and bitter death shall follow her. - Then yield us right, Marsilius, or our swords - Shall make thee fear to wrong the peers of France. - - _Mars._ Words cannot daunt me, princes, be assur'd; - But law and justice shall o'er-rule in this, - And I will bury father's name and love. - The hapless maid, banish'd from out my land, - Wanders about in woods and ways unknown: - Her, if ye find, with fury persecute; - I now disdain the name to be her father. - Lords of France, what would you more of me? - - _Ogier._ Marsilius, we commend thy princely mind, - And will report thy justice through the world.-- - Come, peers of France, let's seek Angelica, - Left for a spoil to our revenging thoughts. [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE II.--_A Grove._ - - _Enter_ ORLANDO _like a poet, and_ ORGALIO. - - _Orl._ Orgalio, is not my love like those purple-colour'd swans - That gallop by the coach of Cynthia? - - _Org._ Yes, marry, is she, my lord. - - _Orl._ Is not her face silver'd like that milk-white shape - That Jove came dancing in to Semele? - - _Org._ It is, my lord. - - _Orl._ Then go thy ways, and climb up to the clouds, - And tell Apollo that Orlando sits - Making of verses for Angelica. - And if he do deny to send me down - The shirt which Deianira sent to Hercules, - To make me brave upon my wedding day, - Tell him I'll pass the Alps, and up to Meroe, - (I know he knows that watery lakish hill,) - And pull the harp out of the minstrel's hands, - And pawn it unto lovely Proserpine, - That she may fetch the fair Angelica. - -_Org._ But, my lord, Apollo is asleep, and will not hear me. - -_Orl._ Then tell him, he is a sleepy knave: but, sirrah, let nobody -trouble me, for I must lie down a while, and talk with the stars. -[_Lies down and sleeps._ - - _Enter a_ Fiddler. - -_Org._ What, old acquaintance! well met.[161] - -_Fid._ Ho, you would have me play Angelica again, would ye not? - -_Org._ No, but I can tell thee where thou may'st earn two or three -shillings this morning, even with the turning of a hand. - -_Fid._ Two or three shillings! tush, thou wolt cozen me, thou: but an -thou canst tell where I may earn a groat, I'll give thee sixpence for -thy pains. - -_Org._ Then play a fit of mirth to my lord. - -_Fid._ Why, he is mad still, is he not? - -_Org._ No, no: come, play. - -_Fid._ At which side doth he use to give his reward? - -_Org._ Why, of any side. - -_Fid._ Doth he not use to throw the chamber-pot sometimes? 'Twould -grieve me he should wet my fiddle-strings. - -_Org._ Tush, I warrant thee. [_The_ Fiddler _plays and sings any odd -fey, and_ ORLANDO _wakes._ - -_Orl._ Who is this? Shan Cuttelero! heartily welcome, Shan Cuttelero. - -_Fid._ No, sir, you should have said "Shan the Fidideldero." - -_Orl._ What, hast thou brought me a sword? [_Takes away his fiddle._ - -_Fid._ A sword! no, no, sir, that's my fiddle. - -_Orl._ But dost thou think the temper to be good? -And will it hold, when thus and thus we Medor do assail? -[_Strikes and beats him with the fiddle._ - -_Fid._ Lord, sir, you'll break my living!--[_to_ ORGALIO] -You told me your master was not mad. - - _Orl._ Tell me, why hast thou marr'd my sword? - The pummel's well, the blade is curtal short: - Villain, why hast thou made it so? -[_Breaks the fiddle about his head._ - -_Fid._ O Lord, sir, will you answer this? [_Exit._ - - _Enter_ MELISSA _with a glass of wine._ - -_Orl._ Orgalio, who is this? - -_Org._ Faith, my lord, some old witch, I think. - -_Mel._ O, that my lord would but conceit[162] my tale! -Then would I speak and hope to find redress. - -_Orl._ Fair Polixena, the pride of Ilion - Fear not Achilles' over-madding boy; - Pyrrhus shall not, etc.--[163] -Souns, Orgalio, why sufferest thou this old trot to come so nigh me? - -_Org._ Come, come, stand by, your breath stinks. - -_Orl._ What! be all the Trojans fled? -Then give me some drink. - -_Mel._ Here, Palatine, drink; and ever be thou better for this draught. - -_Orl._ What's here? The paltry bottle that Darius quaff'd? -[_He drinks, and she charms him with her wand, and he lies down to sleep._ - Else would I set my mouth to Tigris' streams, - And drink up overflowing Euphrates. - My eyes are heavy, and I needs must sleep. - - [MELISSA _strikes with her wand, and the_ Satyrs _enter with music; - and play round about him; which done, they stay; he awakes and speaks._ - - What shows are these, that fill mine eyes - With view of such regard as heaven admires - To see my slumbering dreams! - Skies are fulfill'd with lamps of lasting joy, - That boast the pride of haught Latona's son; - He lighteneth all the candles of the night. - Mnemosyne hath kiss'd the kingly Jove, - And entertain'd a feast within my brains, - Making her daughters'[164] solace on my brow. - Methinks, I feel how Cynthia tunes conceits - Of sad repeat, and melloweth those desires - Which frenzy scarce had ripen'd in my head. - Ate, I'll kiss thy restless cheek a while, - And suffer fruitless passion bide control. - [_Lies down again._ - - _Mel. O vos Silvani, Satyri, Faunique, deæque,_ - _Nymphæ, Hamadryades, Dryades, Parcæque potentes!_ - _O vos qui colitis lacusque locosque profundos,_ - _Infernasque domus et nigra palatia Ditis!_ - _Tuque Demogorgon, qui noctis fata gubernas,_ - _Qui regis infernum solium, cælumque, solumque!_ - _Exaudite preces, filiasque auferte micantes;_ - _In caput Orlandi celestes spargite lymphas,_ - _Spargite, quis misere revocetur rapta per umbras_ - _Orlandi infelix anima._ - [_Then let the music play before him, and so go forth._ - - _Orl._ What sights, what shows, what fearful shapes are these? - More dreadful than appear'd to Hecuba, - When fall of Troy was figur'd in her sleep! - Juno, methought, sent down from heaven by Jove, - Came swiftly sweeping through the gloomy air; - And calling Iris, sent her straight abroad - To summon Fauns, the Satyrs, and the Nymphs, - The Dryads, and all the demigods, - To secret council; [and, their] parle past,[165] - She gave them vials full of heavenly dew. - With that, mounted upon her parti-coloured coach, - Being drawn with peacocks proudly through the air, - She flew with Iris to the sphere of Jove. - What fearful thoughts arise upon this show! - What desert grove is this! How thus disguis'd? - Where is Orgalio? - - _Org._ Here, my lord. - - _Orl._ Sirrah, how came I thus disguis'd, - Like mad Orestes, quaintly thus attir'd? - -_Org._ Like mad Orestes! nay, my lord, you may boldly justify the -comparison, for Orestes was never so mad in his life as you were. - -_Orl._ What, was I mad? what Fury hath enchanted me? - - _Mel._ A Fury, sure, worse than Megæra was, - That reft her son from trusty Pylades. - -_Orl._ Why what art thou, some sibyl, or some goddess? freely speak. - - _Mel._ Time not affords to tell each circumstance: - But thrice hath Cynthia chang'd her hue, - Since thou, infected with a lunacy, - Hast gadded up and down these lawnds and groves, - Performing strange and ruthful stratagems, - All for the love of fair Angelica, - Whom thou with Medor didst suppose play'd false. - But Sacripant had graven these roundelays, - To sting thee with infecting jealousy: - The swain that told thee of their oft converse, - Was servant unto County Sacripant: - And trust me, Orlando, Angelica, - Though true to thee, is banish'd from the court - And Sacripant this day bids battle to Marsilius. - The armies ready are to give assail; - And on a hill that overpeers them both - Stand all the worthy matchless peers of France, - Who are in quest to seek Orlando out. - Muse not at this, for I have told thee true: - I am she that curèd thy disease. - Here, take these weapons, given thee by the fates, - And hie thee, county, to the battle straight. - - _Orl._ Thanks, sacred goddess, for thy helping hand, - Thither will I hie to be reveng'd. - [_Exeunt._ - - - - -ACT THE FIFTH - - -SCENE I.--_A Battle-field._ - - _Alarums: enter_ SACRIPANT _crowned, and pursuing_ MARSILIUS _and_ - MANDRICARD. - - _Sac._ Viceroys, you are dead; - For Sacripant, already crown'd a king, - Heaves up his sword to have your diadems. - - _Mars._ Traitor, not dead, nor any whit dismay'd; - For dear we prize the smallest drop of blood. - - _Enter_ ORLANDO _with a scarf before his face._ - - _Orl._ Stay, princes, 'base not yourselves to combat such a dog. - Mount on your coursers, follow those that fly, - And let your conquering swords be tainted in their bloods: - Pass ye for him; he shall be combated. - [_Exeunt_ MARSILIUS _and_ MANDRICARD. - - _Sac._ Why, what art thou that brav'st me thus? - - _Orl._ I am, thou see'st, a mercenary soldier, - Homely attir'd, but of so haughty thoughts, - As naught can serve to quench th' aspiring flames, - That burn as do the fires of Sicily, - Unless I win that princely diadem, - That seems so ill upon thy coward's head. - - _Sac._ Coward! To arms, sir boy! I will not brook these braves, - If Mars himself, even from his fiery throne - Came arm'd with all his furnitures of war. - [_They fight, and_ SACRIPANT _falls._ - O villain! thou hast slain a prince. - - _Orl._ Then mayst thou think that Mars himself came down, - To vail thy plumes and heave thee from thy pomp. - Proud that thou art, I reck not of thy gree, - But I will have the conquest of my sword, - Which is the glory of thy diadem. - - _Sac._ These words bewray thou art no base-born Moor, - But by descent sprung from some royal line: - Then freely tell me, what's thy name? - - _Orl._ Nay, first let me know thine. - - _Sac._ Then know that thou hast slain Prince Sacripant. - - _Orl._ Sacripant! Then let me at thy dying day entreat, - By that same sphere wherein thy soul shall rest, - If Jove deny not passage to thy ghost, - Thou tell me whether thou wrong'dst Angelica or no? - - _Sac._ O, that's the sting that pricks my conscience! - O, that's the hell my thoughts abhor to think! - I tell thee, knight, for thou dost seem no less, - That I engrav'd the roundelays on the trees, - And hung the schedules of poor Medor's love, - Intending so to breed debate - Between Orlando and Angelica: - O, thus I wrong'd Orlando and Angelica! - Now tell me, what shall I call thy name? - - _Orl._ Then dead is the fatal author of my ill. - Base villain, vassal, unworthy of a crown, - Know that the man that struck the fatal stroke - Is Orlando, the County Palatine, - Whom fortune sent to quittance all my wrongs. - Thou foil'd and slain, it now behoves me straight - To hie me fast to massacre thy men: - And so, farewell, thou devil in shape of man. [_Exit._ - - _Sac._ Hath Demogorgon, ruler of the fates, - Set such a baleful period on my life - As none might end the days of Sacripant - But mighty Orlando, rival of my love? - Now hold the fatal murderers of men - The sharpen'd knife ready to cut my thread, - Ending the scene of all my tragedy: - This day, this hour, this minute ends the days - Of him that liv'd worthy old Nestor's age. - Phœbus, put on thy sable-suited wreath, - Clad all thy spheres in dark and mourning weeds: - Parch'd be the earth, to drink up every spring: - Let corn and trees be blasted from above; - Heaven turn to brass, and earth to wedge of steel; - The world to cinders. Mars, come thundering down, - And never sheath thy swift-revenging sword, - Till, like the deluge in Deucalion's days, - The highest mountains swim in streams of blood. - Heaven, earth, men, beasts, and every living thing, - Consume and end with County Sacripant! [_Dies._ - - -SCENE II.--_The Camp of_ MARSILIUS. - - _Enter_ MARSILIUS, MANDRICARD, _and the_ Twelve Peers _with_ ANGELICA. - - _Mars._ Fought is the field, and Sacripant is slain, - With such a massacre of all his men, - As Mars, descending in his purple robe, - Vows with Bellona in whole heaps of blood - To banquet all the demigods of war. - - _Mand._ See, where he lies slaughter'd without the camp, - And by a simple swain, a mercenary, - Who bravely took the combat to himself: - Might I but know the man that did the deed, - I would, my lord, etérnize him with fame. - - _Ogier._ Leaving the factious county to his death, - Command, my lord, his body be convey'd[166] - Unto some place, as likes your highness best. - See, Marsilius, posting through Africa, - We have found this straggling girl, Angelica, - Who, for she wrong'd her love Orlando, - Chiefest of the western peers, conversing - With so mean a man as Medor was, - We will have her punish'd by the laws of France, - To end her burning lust in flames of fire. - - _Mars._ Beshrew you, lordings, but you do your worst; - Fire, famine, and as cruel death - As fell to Nero's mother in his rage. - - _Angelica._ Father, if I may dare to call thee so, - And lords of France, come from the western seas, - In quest to find mighty Orlando out, - Yet, ere I die, let me have leave to say, - Angelica held ever in her thoughts - Most dear the love of County Palatine. - What wretch hath wrong'd us with suspect of lust - I know not, I, nor can accuse the man; - But, by the heavens, whereto my soul shall fly, - Angelica did never wrong Orlando. - I speak not this as one that cares to live, - For why my thoughts are fully malcontent; - And I conjure you by your chivalry, - You quit Orlando's wrong upon Angelica. - - _Enter_ ORLANDO, _with a scarf before his face._ - - _Oliver._ Strumpet, fear not, for, by fair Maia's son, - This day thy soul shall vanish up in fire, - As Semele, when Juno wil'd the trull - To entertain the glory of her love. - - _Orl._ Frenchman, for so thy quaint array imports, - Be thou a peer, or be thou Charlemagne, - Or hadst thou Hector's or Achilles' heart, - Or never-daunted thoughts of Hercules, - That did in courage far surpass them all, - I tell thee, sir, thou liest in thy throat,-- - The greatest brave Transalpine France can brook,-- - In saying that sacred Angelica - Did offer wrong unto the Palatine. - I am a common mercenary soldier; - Yet, for I see my princess is abus'd - By new-come stragglers from a foreign coast, - I dare the proudest of these western lords - To crack a blade in trial of her right. - - _Mand._ Why, foolish-hardy, daring, simple groom, - Follower of fond-conceited[167] Phaëton, - Know'st thou to whom thou speak'st? - - _Mars._ Brave soldier, for so much thy courage says, - These men are princes, dipt within the blood - Of kings most royal, seated in the west, - Unfit to accept a challenge at your hand: - Yet thanks that thou wouldst in thy lord's defence - Fight for my daughter; but her guilt is known. - - _Ang._ Ay, rest thee, soldier, Angelica is false,-- - False, for she hath no trial of her right: - Soldier, let me die for the 'miss[168] of all. - Wert thou as stout as was proud Theseus, - In vain thy blade should offer my defence; - For why these be the champions of the world, - Twelve Peers of France that never yet were foil'd. - - _Orl._ How, madam, the Twelve Peers of France! - Why, let them be twelve devils of hell, - What I have said, I'll pawn my sword, - To seal it on the shield of him that dares, - Malgrado[169] of his honour, combat me. - -_Oliver._ Marry, sir, that dare I. - -_Orl._ Y'ar'[170] a welcome man, sir. - -_Turpin._ Chastise the groom, Oliver, and learn him know -We are not like the boys of Africa. - -_Orl._ Hear you, sir? You that so peremptorily bade him fight, -Prepare your weapons, for your turn is next: - 'Tis not one champion can discourage me. - Come, are ye ready? -[_He fights first with one, and then with the other, and overcomes -them both._ - So stand aside:--and, madam, if my fortune last it out, - I'll guard your person with Twelve Peers of France. - - _Ogier._ [_aside_]. O Ogier, how canst thou stand, and see a slave - Disgrace the house of France?--Sirrah, prepare you; - For angry Nemesis sits on my sword to be reveng'd. - [_They fight a good while, and then breathe._ - - _Ogier._ Howe'er disguis'd in base or Indian shape, - Ogier can well discern thee by thy blows; - For either thou art Orlando or the devil. - - _Orl._ [_taking off his scarf_]. - Then, to assure you that I am no devil, - Here's your friend and companion, Orlando. - - _Ogier._ And none can be more glad than Ogier is, - That he hath found his cousin in his sense. - - _Oliver._ Whenas I felt his blows upon my shield, - My teeth did chatter, and my thoughts conceiv'd, - Who might this be, if not the Palatine. - - _Turpin._ So had I said, but that report did tell - My lord was troubled with a lunacy. - - _Orl._ So was I, lordings; but give me leave awhile, - Humbly as Mars did to his paramour, - So to submit to fair Angelica.-- - Pardon thy lord, fair saint Angelica, - Whose love, stealing by steps into extremes, - Grew by suspect to causeless lunacy. - - _Ang._ O no, my lord, but pardon my amiss; - For had not Orlando lov'd Angelica, - Ne'er had my lord fall'n into these extremes, - Which we will parley private to ourselves. - Ne'er was the Queen of Cyprus half so glad - As is Angelica to see her lord, - Her dear Orlando, settled in his sense. - - _Orl._ Thanks, my sweet love.-- - But why stand the Prince of Africa, - And Mandricard the King of Mexico, - So deep in dumps, when all rejoice beside? - First know, my lord, I slaughter'd Sacripant; - I am the man that did the slave to death; - Who frankly there did make confession, - That he engrav'd the roundelays on the trees, - And hung the schedules of poor Medor's love, - Intending by suspect to breed debate - Deeply 'twixt me and fair Angelica: - His hope had hap, but we had all the harm; - And now revenge, leaping from out the seat - Of him that may command stern Nemesis, - Hath pour'd those treasons justly on his head. - What saith my gracious lord to this? - - _Mars._ I stand amaz'd, deep over-drench'd with joy, - To hear and see this unexpected end: - So well I rest content.--Ye peers of France, - Sith it is prov'd Angelica is clear, - Her and my crown I freely will bestow - Upon Orlando, the County Palatine. - - _Orl._ Thanks my good lord.--And now, my friends of France, - Frolic, be merry; we will hasten home, - So soon as King Marsilius will consent - To let his daughter wend with us to France. - Meanwhile we'll richly rig up all our fleet - More brave[171] than was that gallant Grecian keel - That brought away the Colchian fleece of gold: - Our sails of sendal[172] spread into the wind; - Our ropes and tacklings all of finest silk, - Fetch'd from the native looms of labouring worms, - The pride of Barbary, and the glorious wealth - That is transported by the western bounds; - Our stems cut out of gleaming ivory; - Our planks and sides fram'd out of cypress-wood, - That bears the name of Cyparissus' change, - To burst the billows of the ocean-sea, - Where Phœbus dips his amber tresses oft, - And kisses Thetis in the day's decline; - That Neptune proud shall call his Tritons forth - To cover all the ocean with a calm: - So rich shall be the rubbish of our barks, - Ta'en here for ballass to the ports of France, - That Charles himself shall wonder at the sight. - Thus, lordings, when our banquetings be done, - And Orlando espousèd to Angelica, - We'll furrow through the moving ocean, - And cheerly frolic with great Charlemagne. - [_Exeunt omnes._ - - - - -FRIAR BACON AND FRIAR BUNGAY - - -Of _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_ there are three quartos, dated 1594, -1630 and 1655. The first quarto was published by Edward White, and -14th May 1594, the play is entered by the publisher on the _Stationery -Registers_. The two exemplars of this quarto are in the British Museum -and in Bridgewater House. In Henslowe's _Diary, Friar Bacon_ heads the -list of plays by my Lord Strange's men in an entry for 19th February -1592. At this time it was not a new play. Between this date and 6th -May it was performed by Strange's men once every three weeks, and once -a week between the following 10th January and 30th January. 1st April -1594, it was taken over by the original owners, the Queen's players, -who were then acting with Sussex' players, and was performed 1st and -5th April at the Rose Theatre. Presumably it was sent to press by the -Queen's men. At Christmas 1602 Middleton wrote a Prologue and Epilogue -for a performance of the play by the Admiral's men at Court, for which -he received five shillings. After this the play was probably kept -in the possession of the Admiral's players, for the 1630 title-page -indicates its performance by the Palsgrave's men. In no sense a -plagiarism, the play is strictly a rival of Marlowe's _Dr. Faustus_, -and it must have been performed within a year after Marlowe's play -appeared in 1587. With _James IV._ it represents Greene's dramatic -workmanship at its best. A few months after the appearance of the play -it was parodied in _Fair Em, The Miller's Daughter of Manchester_. -Greene's play is based on a romance written at the end of the sixteenth -century, and probably accessible to both Greene and Marlowe. The "wall -of brass" is common to both plays, and comes in each case directly from -the source-book, the _Famous History of Friar Bacon_. This popular -old story, of which the earliest extant edition is dated 1630, is -now accessible in Thoms' _Early English Prose Romances_, Vol. I. To -his source-material Greene added, probably out of his own head, the -character of Margaret and her touching love-story. For the historical -portions of the play there is no warrant in actual events. - - - - -DRAMATIS PERSONÆ - - -KING HENRY THE THIRD. - -EDWARD, PRINCE OF WALES, his son. - -EMPEROR OF GERMANY. - -KING OF CASTILE. - -DUKE OF SAXONY. - -LACY, Earl of Lincoln. - -WARREN, Earl of Sussex. - -ERMSBY, a Gentleman. - -RALPH SIMNELL, the King's Fool. - -FRIAR BACON. - -MILES, Friar Bacon's poor scholar. - -FRIAR BUNGAY. - -JAQUES VANDERMAST. - -BURDEN, -MASON, -Doctors of Oxford. - -CLEMENT, -LAMBERT, -SERLSBY, -Gentlemen. - -Two Scholars, their sons. - -Keeper. - -Keeper's Friend. - -THOMAS, RICHARD, Clowns. - -Constable. - -A Post. - -Lords, Clowns, etc. - -ELINOR, daughter to the King of Castile. - -MARGARET, the Keeper's daughter. - -JOAN, a country wench. - -Hostess of the Bell at Henley. - -A Devil. - -Spirit in the shape of HERCULES. - - - - -_THE HONOURABLE HISTORY OF FRIAR BACON AND FRIAR BUNGAY_ - - -ACT THE FIRST - - -SCENE I.--_At Framlingham._ - - _Enter_ PRINCE EDWARD _malcontented, with_ LACY, WARREN, ERMSBY, _and_ - RALPH SIMNELL. - - _Lacy._ Why looks my lord like to a troubled sky, - When heaven's bright shine is shadowed with a fog? - Alate we ran the deer, and through the lawnds - Stripp'd[173] with our nags the lofty frolic bucks - That scudded 'fore the teasers[174] like the wind: - Ne'er was the deer of merry Fressingfield - So lustily pull'd down by jolly mates, - Nor shar'd the farmers such fat venison, - So frankly dealt, this hundred years before; - Nor have I seen my lord more frolic in the chase, - And now chang'd to a melancholy dump. - - _War._ After the prince got to the keeper's lodge, - And had been jocund in the house awhile, - Tossing off ale and milk in country cans; - Whether it was the country's sweet content, - Or else the bonny damsel fill'd us drink, - That seem'd so stately in her stammel[175] red, - Or that a qualm did cross his stomach then, - But straight he fell into his passions. - - _Erms._ Sirrah Ralph, what say you to your master, - Shall he thus all amort[176] live malcontent? - -_Ralph._ Hearest thou, Ned?--Nay, look if he will speak to me! - -_P. Edw._ What say'st thou to me, fool? - -_Ralph._ I prithee, tell me, Ned, art thou in love with the Keeper's -daughter? - -_P. Edw._ How if I be, what then? - -_Ralph._ Why then, sirrah, I'll teach thee how to deceive love. - -_P. Edw._ How, Ralph? - -_Ralph._ Marry, Sirrah Ned, thou shalt put on my cap and my coat and my -dagger, and I will put on thy clothes and thy sword; and so thou shalt -be my fool. - -_P. Edw._ And what of this? - -_Ralph._ Why, so thou shalt beguile Love; for Love is such a proud -scab, that he will never meddle with fools nor children. Is not Ralph's -counsel good, Ned? - - _P. Edw._ Tell me, Ned Lacy, didst thou mark the maid, - How lovely in her country weeds she look'd? - A bonnier wench all Suffolk cannot yield:-- - All Suffolk! nay, all England holds none such. - -_Ralph._ Sirrah Will Ermsby, Ned is deceived. - -_Erms._ Why, Ralph? - -_Ralph._ He says all England hath no such, and I say, and I'll stand to -it, there is one better in Warwickshire. - -_War._ How provest thou that, Ralph? - -_Ralph._ Why, is not the abbot a learned man, and hath read many books, -and thinkest thou he hath not more learning than thou to choose a bonny -wench? yes, I warrant thee, by his whole grammar. - -_Erms._ A good reason, Ralph. - - _P. Edw._ I tell thee, Lacy, that her sparkling eyes - Do lighten forth sweet love's alluring fire; - And in her tresses she doth fold the looks - Of such as gaze upon her golden hair: - Her bashful white, mix'd with the morning's red, - Luna doth boast upon her lovely cheeks; - Her front is beauty's table, where she paints - The glories of her gorgeous excellence; - Her teeth are shelves of precious margarites,[177] - Richly enclos'd with ruddy coral cleeves.[178] - Tush, Lacy, she is beauty's over-match, - If thou survey'st her curious imagery. - - _Lacy._ I grant, my lord, the damsel is as fair - As simple Suffolk's homely towns can yield; - But in the court be quainter[179] dames than she, - Whose faces are enrich'd with honour's taint, - Whose beauties stand upon the stage of fame, - And vaunt their trophies in the courts of love. - - _P. Edw._ Ah, Ned, but hadst thou watch'd her as myself, - And seen the secret beauties of the maid, - Their courtly coyness were but foolery. - - _Erms._ Why, how watch'd you her, my lord? - - _P. Edw._ Whenas she swept like Venus through the house,-- - And in her shape fast folded up my thoughts,-- - Into the milk-house went I with the maid, - And there amongst the cream-bowls she did shine - As Pallas 'mongst her princely huswifery: - She turn'd her smock over her lily arms, - And div'd them into milk to run her cheese; - But whiter than the milk her crystal skin, - Checkèd with lines of azure, made her blush,[180] - That art or nature durst bring for compare. - Ermsby, if thou hadst seen, as I did note it well, - How beauty play'd the huswife, how this girl, - Like Lucrece, laid her fingers to the work, - Thou wouldst, with Tarquin, hazard Rome and all - To win the lovely maid of Fressingfield. - -_Ralph._ Sirrah Ned, wouldst fain have her? - -_P. Edw._ Ay, Ralph. - -_Ralph_ Why, Ned, I have laid the plot in my head; thou shalt have her -already. - -_P. Edw._ I'll give thee a new coat, an learn me that. - -_Ralph._ Why, Sirrah Ned, we'll ride to Oxford to Friar Bacon: O, he is -a brave scholar, sirrah; they say he is a brave necromancer, that he -can make women of devils, and he can juggle cats into costermongers. - -_P. Edw._ And how then, Ralph? - -_Ralph._ Marry, Sirrah, thou shalt go to him: and because thy father -Harry shall not miss thee, he shall turn me into thee; and I'll to the -court, and I'll prince it out; and he shall make thee either a silken -purse full of gold, or else a fine wrought smock. - -_P. Edw._ But how shall I have the maid? - -_Ralph._ Marry, sirrah, if thou be'st a silken purse full of gold, then -on Sundays she'll hang thee by her side, and you must not say a word. -Now, sir, when she comes into a great prease of people, for fear of the -cutpurse, on a sudden she'll swap thee into her plackerd;[181] then, -sirrah, being there, you may plead for yourself. - -_Erms._ Excellent policy! - -_P. Edw._ But how if I be a wrought smock? - -_Ralph._ Then she'll put thee into her chest and lay thee into -lavender, and upon some good day she'll put thee on; and at night when -you go to bed, then being turned from a smock to a man, you may make up -the match. - -_Lacy._ Wonderfully wisely counselled, Ralph. - -_P. Edw._ Ralph shall have a new coat. - -_Ralph._ God thank you when I have it on my back, Ned. - - _P. Edw._ Lacy, the fool hath laid a perfect plot; - For why our country Margaret is so coy, - And stands so much upon her honest points, - That marriage or no market with the maid. - Ermsby, it must be necromantic spells - And charms of art that must enchain her love, - Or else shall Edward never win the girl. - Therefore, my wags, we'll horse us in the morn, - And post to Oxford to this jolly friar: - Bacon shall by his magic do this deed. - - _War._ Content, my lord; and that's a speedy way - To wean these headstrong puppies from the teat. - - _P. Edw._ I am unknown, not taken for the prince; - They only deem us frolic courtiers, - That revel thus among our liege's game: - Therefore I have devis'd a policy. - Lacy, thou know'st next Friday is Saint James', - And then the country flocks to Harleston fair: - Then will the Keeper's daughter frolic there, - And over-shine the troop of all the maids - That come to see and to be seen that day. - Haunt thee disguis'd among the country-swains, - Feign thou'rt a farmer's son, not far from thence, - Espy her loves, and who she liketh best; - Cote[182] him, and court her to control the clown; - Say that the courtier 'tirèd all in green, - That help'd her handsomely to run her cheese, - And fill'd her father's lodge with venison, - Commends him, and sends fairings to herself. - Buy something worthy of her parentage, - Not worth her beauty; for, Lacy, then the fair - Affords no jewel fitting for the maid: - And when thou talk'st of me, note if she blush: - O, then she loves; but if her cheeks wax pale, - Disdain it is. Lacy, send how she fares, - And spare no time nor cost to win her loves. - - _Lacy._ I will, my lord, so execute this charge, - As if that Lacy were in love with her. - -_P. Edw._ Send letters speedily to Oxford of the news. - -_Ralph._ And, Sirrah Lacy, buy me a thousand thousand million of fine -bells. - -_Lacy._ What wilt thou do with them, Ralph? - -_Ralph._ Marry, every time that Ned sighs for the Keeper's daughter, -I'll tie a bell about him: and so within three or four days I will send -word to his father Harry, that his son, and my master Ned, is become -Love's morris-dance. - - _P. Edw._ Well, Lacy, look with care unto thy charge, - And I will haste to Oxford to the friar, - That he by art, and thou by secret gifts - Mayst make me lord of merry Fressingfield. - -_Lacy._ God send your honour your heart's desire. -[_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE II.--FRIAR BACON'S _cell at Brazen-nose._ - - _Enter_ FRIAR BACON, _and_ MILES _with books under his arm; with them_ - BURDEN, MASON _and_ CLEMENT. - -_Bacon._ Miles, where are you? - -_Miles. Hic sum, doctissime et reverendissime doctor._ - -_Bacon. Attulisti nos libros meos de necromantia?_ - -_Miles. Ecce quam bonum et quam jucundum habitare libros in unum!_ - - _Bacon._ Now, masters of our academic state, - That rule in Oxford, viceroys in your place, - Whose heads contain maps of the liberal arts, - Spending your time in depth of learnèd skill, - Why flock you thus to Bacon's secret cell, - A friar newly stall'd in Brazen-nose? - Say what's your mind, that I may make reply. - - _Burd._ Bacon, we hear, that long we have suspect, - That thou art read in magic's mystery; - In pyromancy, to divine by flames; - To tell, by hydromantic, ebbs and tides; - By aeromancy to discover doubts, - To plain out questions, as Apollo did. - -_Bacon._ Well, Master Burden, what of all this? - -_Miles._ Marry, sir, he doth but fulfil, by rehearsing of these names, -the fable of the Fox and the Grapes: that which is above us pertains -nothing to us. - - _Burd._ I tell thee, Bacon, Oxford makes report, - Nay, England, and the court of Henry says - Thou'rt making of a brazen head by art, - Which shall unfold strange doubts and aphorisms, - And read a lecture in philosophy; - And, by the help of devils and ghastly fiends, - Thou mean'st, ere many years or days be past, - To compass England with a wall of brass. - -_Bacon._ And what of this? - -_Miles._ What of this, master! why he doth speak mystically; for he -knows, if your skill fail to make a brazen head, yet Mother Waters' -strong ale will fit his turn to make him have a copper nose. - - _Clem._ Bacon, we come not grieving at thy skill, - But joying that our académy yields - A man suppos'd the wonder of the world; - For if thy cunning work these miracles, - England and Europe shall admire thy fame, - And Oxford shall in characters of brass, - And statues, such as were built up in Rome, - Etérnize Friar Bacon for his art. - - _Mason._ Then, gentle friar, tell us thy intent. - - _Bacon._ Seeing you come as friends unto the friar, - Resolve[183] you, doctors, Bacon can by books - Make storming Boreas thunder from his cave, - And dim fair Luna to a dark eclipse. - The great arch-ruler, potentate of hell, - Trembles when Bacon bids him, or his fiends, - Bow to the force of his pentageron.[184] - What art can work, the frolic friar knows; - And therefore will I turn my magic books, - And strain out necromancy to the deep. - I have contriv'd and fram'd a head of brass - (I made Belcephon hammer out the stuff), - And that by art shall read philosophy: - And I will strengthen England by my skill, - That if ten Cæsars liv'd and reign'd in Rome, - With all the legions Europe doth contain, - They should not touch a grass of English ground: - The work that Ninus rear'd at Babylon, - The brazen walls fram'd by Semiramis, - Carv'd out like to the portal of the sun, - Shall not be such as rings the English strand - From Dover to the market-place of Rye. - - _Burd._ Is this possible? - - _Miles._ I'll bring ye two or three witnesses. - - _Burd._ What be those? - -_Miles._ Marry, sir, three or four as honest devils and good companions -as any be in hell. - - _Mason._ No doubt but magic may do much in this; - For he that reads but mathematic rules - Shall find conclusions that avail to work - Wonders that pass the common sense of men. - - _Burd._ But Bacon roves a bow beyond his reach, - And tells of more than magic can perform; - Thinking to get a fame by fooleries. - Have I not pass'd as far in state of schools, - And read of many secrets? yet to think - That heads of brass can utter any voice, - Or more, to tell of deep philosophy, - This is a fable Æsop had forgot. - - _Bacon._ Burden, thou wrong'st me in detracting thus; - Bacon loves not to stuff himself with lies: - But tell me 'fore these doctors, if thou dare, - Of certain questions I shall move to thee. - -_Burd._ I will: ask what thou can. - -_Miles._ Marry, sir, he'll straight be on your pick-pack, to know -whether the feminine or the masculine gender be most worthy. - -_Bacon._ Were you not yesterday Master Burden, at Henley upon the -Thames? - -_Burd._ I was: what then? - -_Bacon._ What book studied you thereon all night? - -_Burd._ I! none at all; I read not there a line. - -_Bacon._ Then, doctors, Friar Bacon's art knows naught. - -_Clem._ What say you to this, Master Burden? doth he not touch you? - -_Burd._ I pass not of[185] his frivolous speeches. - -_Miles._ Nay, Master Burden, my master, ere he hath done with you, will -turn you from a doctor to a dunce, and shake you so small, that he will -leave no more learning in you than is in Balaam's ass. - - _Bacon._ Masters, for that learn'd Burden's skill is deep, - And sore he doubts of Bacon's cabalism, - I'll show you why he haunts to Henley oft: - Not, doctors, for to taste the fragrant air, - But there to spend the night in alchemy, - To multiply with secret spells of art; - Thus private steals he learning from us all. - To prove my sayings true, I'll show you straight - The book he keeps at Henley for himself. - -_Miles._ Nay, now my master goes to conjuration, take heed. - -_Bacon._ Masters, stand still, fear not, I'll show you but his book. -[_Conjures._ _Per omnes deos infernales, Belcephon!_ - - _Enter_ Hostess _with a shoulder of mutton on a spit, and a_ Devil. - -_Miles._ O, master, cease your conjuration, or you spoil all; for -here's a she-devil come with a shoulder of mutton on a spit: you have -marred the devil's supper; but no doubt he thinks our college fare is -slender, and so hath sent you his cook with a shoulder of mutton, to -make it exceed. - -_Hostess._ O, where am I, or what's become of me? - -_Bacon._ What art thou? - -_Hostess._ Hostess at Henley, mistress of the Bell. - -_Bacon._ How camest thou here? - - _Hostess._ As I was in the kitchen 'mongst the maids, - Spitting the meat against supper for my guess,[186] - A motion mov'd me to look forth of door: - No sooner had I pried into the yard, - But straight a whirlwind hoisted me from thence, - And mounted me aloft unto the clouds. - As in a trance I thought nor fearèd naught, - Nor know I where or whither I was ta'en, - Nor where I am, nor what these persons be. - -_Bacon._ No? know you not Master Burden? - -_Hostess._ O, yes, good sir, he is my daily guest.-- -What, Master Burden! 'twas but yesternight -That you and I at Henley play'd at cards. - -_Burd._ I know not what we did.--A pox of all conjuring friars! - -_Clem._ Now, jolly friar, tell us, is this the book that Burden is so -careful to look on? - - _Bacon._ It is.--But, Burden, tell me now, - Think'st thou that Bacon's necromantic skill - Cannot perform his head and wall of brass, - When he can fetch thine hostess in such post? - -_Miles._ I'll warrant you, master, if Master Burden could conjure as -well as you, he would have his book every night from Henley to study on -at Oxford. - -_Mason._ Burden, what, are you mated[187] by this frolic friar?-- -Look how he droops; his guilty conscience -Drives him to 'bash and makes his hostess blush. - - _Bacon._ Well, mistress, for I will not have you miss'd, - You shall to Henley to cheer up your guests - 'Fore supper gin.--Burden, bid her adieu; - Say farewell to your hostess 'fore she goes.-- - Sirrah, away, and set her safe at home. - -_Hostess._ Master Burden, when shall we see you at Henley? -[_Exeunt_ Hostess _and_ Devil. - -_Burd._ The devil take thee and Henley too. - -_Miles._ Master, shall I make a good motion? - -_Bacon._ What's that? - -_Miles._ Marry, sir, now that my hostess is gone to provide supper, -conjure up another spirit, and send Doctor Burden flying after. - - _Bacon._ Thus, rulers of our academic state, - You have seen the friar frame his art by proof; - And as the college callèd Brazen-nose[188] - Is under him, and he the master there, - So surely shall this head of brass be fram'd, - And yield forth strange and uncouth aphorisms; - And hell and Hecate shall fail the friar, - But I will circle England round with brass. - -_Miles._ So be it, _et nunc et semper_; amen. -[_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE III.--_Harleston Fair._ - - _Enter_ MARGARET _and_ JOAN; THOMAS, RICHARD, _and other Clowns; and_ - LACY _disguised in country apparel._ - -_Thom._ By my troth, Margaret, here's a weather is able to make a man -call his father "whoreson": if this weather hold, we shall have hay -good cheap, and butter and cheese at Harleston will bear no price. - - _Mar._ Thomas, maids when they come to see the fair - Count not to make a cope[189] for dearth of hay: - When we have turn'd our butter to the salt, - And set our cheese safely upon the racks, - Then let our fathers price it as they please. - We country sluts of merry Fressingfield - Come to buy needless naughts to make us fine, - And look that young men should be frank this day, - And court us with such fairings as they can. - Phœbus is blithe, and frolic looks from heaven, - As when he courted lovely Semele, - Swearing the pedlers shall have empty packs, - If that fair weather may make chapmen buy. - - _Lacy._ But, lovely Peggy, Semele is dead, - And therefore Phœbus from his palace pries, - And, seeing such a sweet and seemly saint, - Shows all his glories for to court yourself. - - _Mar._ This is a fairing, gentle sir, indeed, - To soothe me up with such smooth flattery; - But learn of me, your scoff's too broad before.-- - Well, Joan, our beauties must abide their jests; - We serve the turn in jolly Fressingfield. - - _Joan._ Margaret, a farmer's daughter for a farmer's son: - I warrant you, the meanest of us both - Shall have a mate to lead us from the church. - [LACY _whispers_ MARGARET _in the ear._ - But, Thomas, what's the news? what, in a dump? - Give me your hand, we are near a pedler's shop; - Out with your purse, we must have fairings now. - -_Thom._ Faith, Joan, and shall: I'll bestow a fairing on you, and then -we will to the tavern, and snap off a pint of wine or two. - -_Mar._ Whence are you, sir? of Suffolk? for your terms -Are finer than the common sort of men. - - _Lacy._ Faith, lovely girl, I am of Beccles by, - Your neighbour, not above six miles from hence, - A farmer's son, that never was so quaint - But that he could do courtesy to such dames. - But trust me, Margaret, I am sent in charge, - From him that revell'd in your father's house, - And fill'd his lodge with cheer and venison, - 'Tirèd in green: he sent you this rich purse, - His token that he help'd you run your cheese, - And in the milkhouse chatted with yourself. - - _Mar._ To me? you forget yourself. - - _Lacy._ Women are often weak in memory. - - _Mar._ O, pardon, sir, I call to mind the man: - 'Twere little manners to refuse his gift, - And yet I hope he sends it not for love; - For we have little leisure to debate of that. - -_Joan._ What, Margaret! blush not: maids must have their loves. - -_Thom._ Nay, by the mass, she looks pale as if she were angry. - -_Rich._ Sirrah, are you of Beccles? I pray, how doth Goodman Cob? my -father bought a horse of him.--I'll tell you, Margaret, 'a were good -to be a gentleman's jade, for of all things the foul hilding could not -abide a dung-cart. - - _Mar._ [_aside_]. How different is this farmer from the rest, - That erst as yet have pleas'd my wandering sight! - His words are witty, quicken'd with a smile, - His courtesy gentle, smelling of the court; - Facile and debonair in all his deeds; - Proportion'd as was Paris, when, in grey, - He courted Œnon in the vale by Troy. - Great lords have come and pleaded for my love: - Who but the Keeper's lass of Fressingfield? - And yet methinks this farmer's jolly son - Passeth the proudest that hath pleas'd mine eye. - But, Peg, disclose not that thou art in love, - And show as yet no sign of love to him, - Although thou well wouldst wish him for thy love: - Keep that to thee till time doth serve thy turn, - To show the grief wherein thy heart doth burn.-- - Come, Joan and Thomas, shall we to the fair?-- - You, Beccles man, will not forsake us now? - - _Lacy._ Not whilst I may have such quaint girls as you. - - _Mar._ Well, if you chance to come by Fressingfield, - Make but a step into the Keeper's lodge; - And such poor fare as woodmen can afford, - Butter and cheese, cream and fat venison, - You shall have store, and welcome therewithal. - - _Lacy._ Gramercies, Peggy; look for me ere long. - [_Exeunt._ - - - - -ACT THE SECOND - -SCENE I.--_The Court at Hampton House._ - - _Enter_ KING HENRY THE THIRD, _the_ EMPEROR OF GERMANY, _the_ KING OF - CASTILE, ELINOR, _and_ VANDERMAST. - - _K. Hen._ Great men of Europe, monarchs of the West, - Ring'd with the walls of old Oceanus, - Whose lofty surge is like the battlements - That compass'd high-built Babel in with towers,-- - Welcome, my lords, welcome, brave western kings, - To England's shore, whose promontory-cleeves - Show Albion is another little world; - Welcome says English Henry to you all; - Chiefly unto the lovely Elinor, - Who dar'd for Edward's sake cut through the seas, - And venture as Agenor's damsel through the deep, - To get the love of Henry's wanton son. - - _K. of Cast._ England's rich monarch, brave Plantagenet, - The Pyren Mounts swelling above the clouds, - That ward the wealthy Castile in with walls, - Could not detain the beauteous Elinor; - But hearing of the fame of Edward's youth, - She dar'd to brook Neptunus' haughty pride, - And bide the brunt of froward Æolus: - Then may fair England welcome her the more. - - _Elin._ After that English Henry by his lords - Had sent Prince Edward's lovely counterfeit, - A present to the Castile Elinor, - The comely portrait of so brave a man, - The virtuous fame discoursèd of his deeds, - Edward's courageous resolution, - Done at the Holy Land 'fore Damas'[190] walls, - Led both mine eye and thoughts in equal links, - To like so of the English monarch's son, - That I attempted perils for his sake. - - _Emp._ Where is the prince, my lord? - - _K. Hen._ He posted down, not long since, from the court, - To Suffolk side, to merry Framlingham, - To sport himself amongst my fallow deer: - From thence, by packets sent to Hampton House, - We hear the prince is ridden, with his lords, - To Oxford, in the académy there - To hear dispute amongst the learnèd men. - But we will send forth letters for my son, - To will him come from Oxford to the court. - - _Emp._ Nay, rather, Henry, let us, as we be, - Ride for to visit Oxford with our train. - Fain would I see your universities, - And what learn'd men your académy yields. - From Hapsburg have I brought a learnèd clerk, - To hold dispute with English orators: - This doctor, surnam'd Jaques Vandermast, - A German born, pass'd into Padua, - To Florence and to fair Bologna, - To Paris, Rheims, and stately Orleans, - And, talking there with men of art, put down - The chiefest of them all in aphorisms, - In magic, and the mathematic rules: - Now let us, Henry, try him in your schools. - - _K. Hen._ He shall, my lord; this motion likes me well. - We'll progress straight to Oxford with our trains, - And see what men our académy brings.-- - And, wonder Vandermast, welcome to me: - In Oxford shalt thou find a jolly friar, - Call'd Friar Bacon, England's only flower: - Set him but non-plus in his magic spells, - And make him yield in mathematic rules, - And for thy glory I will bind thy brows, - Not with a poet's garland made of bays, - But with a coronet of choicest gold. - Whilst then we set to Oxford with our troops, - Let's in and banquet in our English court. [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE II.--_A Street in Oxford._ - - _Enter_ RALPH SIMNELL _in_ PRINCE EDWARD'S _apparel; and_ PRINCE - EDWARD, WARREN, _and_ ERMSBY _disguised._ - -_Ralph._ Where be these vacabond knaves, that they attend no better on -their master? - -_P. Edw._ If it please your honour, we are all ready at an inch. - -_Ralph._ Sirrah Ned, I'll have no more post-horse to ride on: I'll have -another fetch. - -_Erms._ I pray you, how is that, my lord? - -_Ralph._ Marry, sir, I'll send to the Isle of Ely for four or five -dozen of geese, and I'll have them tied six and six together with -whip-cord: now upon their backs will I have a fair field-bed with a -canopy; and so, when it is my pleasure, I'll flee into what place I -please. This will be easy. - -_War._ Your honour hath said well: but shall we to Brazen-nose College -before we pull off our boots? - -_Erms._ Warren, well motioned; we will to the friar before we revel it -within the town.--Ralph, see you keep your countenance like a prince. - -_Ralph._ Wherefore have I such a company of cutting[191] knaves to -wait upon me, but to keep and defend my countenance against all mine -enemies? have you not good swords and bucklers? - - _Enter_ FRIAR BACON _and_ MILES. - -_Erms._ Stay, who comes here? - -_War._ Some scholar; and we'll ask him where Friar Bacon is. - -_Bacon._ Why, thou arrant dunce, shall I never make thee a good -scholar? doth not all the town cry out and say, Friar Bacon's subsizer -is the greatest blockhead in all Oxford? why, thou canst not speak one -word of true Latin. - -_Miles._ No, sir? yes! what is this else? _Ego sum tuus homo_, "I am -your man;" I warrant you, sir, as good Tully's phrase as any is in -Oxford. - -_Bacon._ Come on, sirrah; what part of speech is _Ego_? - -_Miles. Ego,_ that is "I"; marry, _nomen substantivo_. - -_Bacon._ How prove you that? - -_Miles._ Why, sir, let him prove himself an 'a will; I can be heard, -felt and understood. - -_Bacon._ O gross dunce! [_Beats him._ - -_P. Edw._ Come, let us break off this dispute between these -two.--Sirrah, where is Brazen-nose College? - -_Miles._ Not far from Coppersmith's Hall. - -_P. Edw._ What, dost thou mock me? - -_Miles._ Not I, sir, but what would you at Brazen-nose? - -_Erms._ Marry, we would speak with Friar Bacon. - -_Miles._ Whose men be you? - -_Erms._ Marry, scholar, here's our master. - -_Ralph._ Sirrah, I am the master of these good fellows; mayst thou not -know me to be a lord by my reparrel? - -_Miles._ Then here's good game for the hawk; for here's the -master-fool, and a covey of coxcombs: one wise man, I think, would -spring you all. - -_P. Edw._ Gog's wounds! Warren, kill him. - -_War._ Why, Ned, I think the devil be in my sheath; I cannot get out my -dagger. - -_Erms._ Nor I mine: swones,[192] Ned, I think I am bewitched. - -_Miles._ A company of scabs! the proudest of you all draw your weapon, -if he can.--[_Aside_]. See how boldly I speak, now my master is by. - -_P. Edw._ I strive in vain; but if my sword be shut -And conjur'd fast by magic in my sheath, -Villain, here is my fist. -[_Strikes_ MILES _a box on the ear._ - -_Miles._ O, I beseech you conjure his hands too, that he may not lift -his arms to his head, for he is light-fingered! - -_Ralph._ Ned, strike him; I'll warrant thee by mine honour. - -_Bacon._ What! means the English prince to wrong my man? - -_P. Edw._ To whom speakest thou? - -_Bacon._ To thee. - -_P. Edw._ Who art thou? - - _Bacon._ Could you not judge, when all your swords grew fast, - That Friar Bacon was not far from hence? - Edward, King Henry's son and Prince of Wales, - Thy fool disguis'd cannot conceal thyself: - I know both Ermsby and the Sussex Earl, - Else Friar Bacon had but little skill. - Thou com'st in post from merry Fressingfield, - Fast-fancied[193] to the Keeper's bonny lass, - To crave some succour of the jolly friar: - And Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, hast thou left, - To treat fair Margaret to allow thy loves; - But friends are men, and love can baffle lords; - The earl both woos and courts her for himself. - - _War._ Ned, this is strange; the friar knoweth all. - - _Erms._ Apollo could not utter more than this. - - _P. Edw._ I stand amaz'd to hear this jolly friar, - Tell even the very secrets of my thoughts:-- - But, learnèd Bacon, since thou know'st the cause - Why I did post so fast from Fressingfield, - Help, friar, at a pinch, that I may have - The love of lovely Margaret to myself, - And, as I am true Prince of Wales, I'll give - Living and lands to strength thy college state. - -_War._ Good friar, help the prince in this. - -_Ralph._ Why, servant Ned, will not the friar do it?--Were not my sword -glued to my scabbard by conjuration, I would cut off his head, and make -him do it by force. - -_Miles._ In faith, my lord, your manhood and your sword is all alike; -they are so fast conjured that we shall never see them. - - _Erms._ What, doctor, in a dump! tush, help the prince, - And thou shalt see how liberal he will prove. - - _Bacon._ Crave not such actions greater dumps than these? - I will, my lord, strain out my magic spells; - For this day comes the earl to Fressingfield, - And 'fore that night shuts in the day with dark, - They'll be betrothèd each to other fast. - But come with me; we'll to my study straight, - And in a glass prospective[194] I will show - What's done this day in merry Fressingfield. - - _P. Edw._ Gramercies, Bacon; I will quite thy pain. - - _Bacon._ But send your train, my lord, into the town: - My scholar shall go bring them to their inn; - Meanwhile we'll see the knavery of the earl. - - _P. Edw._ Warren, leave me:--and, Ermsby, take the fool: - Let him be master and go revel it, - Till I and Friar Bacon talk awhile. - -_War._ We will, my lord. - -_Ralph._ Faith, Ned, and I'll lord it out till thou comest; I'll be -Prince of Wales over all the black-pots[195] in Oxford. [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE III.--FRIAR BACON'S _Cell._ - - FRIAR BACON _and_ PRINCE EDWARD _go into the study._[196] - - _Bacon._ Now, frolic Edward, welcome to my cell; - Here tempers Friar Bacon many toys, - And holds this place his consistory-court, - Wherein the devils plead homage to his words. - Within this glass prospective thou shalt see - This day what's done in merry Fressingfield - 'Twixt lovely Peggy and the Lincoln Earl. - - _P. Edw._ Friar, thou glad'st me: now shall Edward try - How Lacy meaneth to his sovereign lord. - - _Bacon._ Stand there and look directly in the glass. - - _Enter_ MARGARET _and_ FRIAR BUNGAY.[197] - - What sees my lord? - - _P. Edw._ I see the Keeper's lovely lass appear, - As brightsome as the paramour of Mars, - Only attended by a jolly friar. - - _Bacon._ Sit still, and keep the crystal in your eye. - - _Mar._ But tell me, Friar Bungay, is it true, - That this fair, courteous, country swain, - Who says his father is a farmer nigh, - Can be Lord Lacy, Earl of Lincolnshire? - - _Bun._ Peggy, 'tis true, 'tis Lacy for my life, - Or else mine art and cunning both do fail, - Left by Prince Edward to procure his loves; - For he in green, that holp you run your cheese, - Is son to Henry, and the Prince of Wales. - - _Mar._ Be what he will, his lure is but for lust: - But did Lord Lacy like poor Margaret, - Or would he deign to wed a country lass, - Friar, I would his humble handmaid be, - And for great wealth quite him with courtesy. - - _Bun._ Why, Margaret, dost thou love him? - - _Mar._ His personage, like the pride of vaunting Troy, - Might well avouch to shadow Helen's rape: - His wit is quick and ready in conceit, - As Greece afforded in her chiefest prime: - Courteous, ah friar, full of pleasing smiles! - Trust me, I love too much to tell thee more; - Suffice to me he's England's paramour. - - _Bun._ Hath not each eye that view'd thy pleasing face - Surnamèd thee Fair Maid of Fressingfield? - - _Mar._ Yes, Bungay, and would God the lovely earl - Had that _in esse_, that so many sought. - - _Bun._ Fear not, the friar will not be behind - To show his cunning to entangle love. - - _P. Edw._ I think the friar courts the bonny wench; - Bacon, methinks he is a lusty churl. - - _Bacon._ Now look, my lord. - - _Enter_ LACY _disguised as before._ - - _P. Edw._ Gog's wounds, Bacon, here comes Lacy! - - _Bacon._ Sit still, my lord, and mark the comedy. - - _Bun._ Here's Lacy, Margaret, step aside awhile. - [_Retires with_ MARGARET. - - _Lacy._ Daphne, the damsel that caught Phœbus fast, - And lock'd him in the brightness of her looks, - Was not so beauteous in Apollo's eyes - As is fair Margaret to the Lincoln Earl. - Recant thee, Lacy, thou art put in trust:-- - Edward, thy sovereign's son, hath chosen thee, - A secret friend, to court her for himself, - And dar'st thou wrong thy prince with treachery?-- - Lacy, love makes no exception of a friend, - Nor deems it of a prince but as a man. - Honour bids thee control him in his lust; - His wooing is not for to wed the girl, - But to entrap her and beguile the lass. - Lacy, thou lov'st; then brook not such abuse, - But wed her, and abide thy prince's frown: - For better die, than see her live disgrac'd. - - _Mar._ Come, friar, I will shake him from his dumps.-- - [_Comes forward._ - How cheer you, sir? a penny for your thought: - You're early up, pray God it be the near.[198] - What, come from Beccles in a morn so soon? - - _Lacy._ Thus watchful are such men as live in love, - Whose eyes brook broken slumbers for their sleep. - I tell thee, Peggy, since last Harleston fair - My mind hath felt a heap of passions. - - _Mar._ A trusty man, that court it for your friend: - Woo you still for the courtier all in green?-- - [_Aside._] I marvel that he sues not for himself. - - _Lacy._ Peggy, I pleaded first to get your grace for him; - But when mine eyes survey'd your beauteous looks, - Love, like a wag, straight div'd into my heart, - And there did shrine the idea of yourself. - Pity me, though I be a farmer's son, - And measure not my riches, but my love. - - _Mar._ You are very hasty; for to garden well, - Seeds must have time to sprout before they spring: - Love ought to creep as doth the dial's shade, - For timely ripe is rotten too-too soon. - - _Bun._ [_coming forward_]. _Deus hic_; room for a merry friar! - What, youth of Beccles, with the Keeper's lass? - 'Tis well; but tell me, hear you any news. - - _Mar._ No, friar: what news? - - _Bun._ Hear you not how the pursuivants do post - With proclamations through each country-town? - - _Lacy._ For what, gentle friar? tell the news. - - _Bun._ Dwell'st thou in Beccles, and hear'st not of these news? - Lacy, the Earl of Lincoln, is late fled - From Windsor court, disguisèd like a swain, - And lurks about the country here unknown. - Henry suspects him of some treachery, - And therefore doth proclaim in every way, - That who can take the Lincoln Earl shall have, - Paid in the Exchequer, twenty thousand crowns. - - _Lacy._ The Earl of Lincoln! friar, thou art mad: - It was some other; thou mistak'st the man: - The Earl of Lincoln! why, it cannot be. - - _Mar._ Yes, very well, my lord, for you are he: - The Keeper's daughter took you prisoner: - Lord Lacy, yield, I'll be your gaoler once. - - _P. Edw._ How familiar they be, Bacon! - - _Bacon._ Sit still, and mark the sequel of their loves. - - _Lacy._ Then am I double prisoner to thyself: - Peggy, I yield; but are these news in jest? - - _Mar._ In jest with you, but earnest unto me; - For why these wrongs do wring me at the heart. - Ah, how these earls and noblemen of birth - Flatter and feign to forge poor women's ill. - - _Lacy._ Believe me, lass, I am the Lincoln Earl: - I not deny but, 'tirèd thus in rags, - I liv'd disguis'd to win fair Peggy's love. - - _Mar._ What love is there where wedding ends not love? - - _Lacy._ I meant, fair girl, to make thee Lacy's wife. - - _Mar._ I little think that earls will stoop so low. - - _Lacy._ Say, shall I make thee countess ere I sleep? - - _Mar._ Handmaid unto the earl, so please himself: - A wife in name, but servant in obedience. - - _Lacy._ The Lincoln Countess, for it shall be so: - I'll plight the bands and seal it with a kiss. - - _P. Edw._ Gog's wounds, Bacon, they kiss! I'll stab them. - - _Bacon._ O, hold your hands, my lord, it is the glass. - - _P. Edw._ Choler to see the traitors gree so well - Made me think the shadows substances. - - _Bacon._ 'Twere a long poniard, my lord, to reach between - Oxford and Fressingfield; but sit still and see more. - - _Bun._ Well, Lord of Lincoln, if your loves be knit, - And that your tongues and thoughts do both agree, - To avoid ensuing jars, I'll hamper up the match. - I'll take my portace[199] forth, and wed you here: - Then go to bed and seal up your desires. - - _Lacy._ Friar, content.--Peggy, how like you this? - - _Mar._ What likes my lord is pleasing unto me. - - _Bun._ Then hand-fast hand, and I will to my book. - - _Bacon._ What sees my lord now? - - _P. Edw._ Bacon, I see the lovers hand in hand, - The friar ready with his portace there - To wed them both: then am I quite undone. - Bacon, help now, if e'er thy magic serv'd; - Help, Bacon; stop the marriage now, - If devils or necromancy may suffice, - And I will give thee forty thousand crowns. - - _Bacon._ Fear not, my lord, I'll stop the jolly friar - For mumbling up his orisons this day. - - _Lacy._ Why speak'st not, Bungay? Friar to thy book. - [BUNGAY _is mute, crying_ "Hud, hud." - - _Mar._ How look'st thou, friar, as a man distraught? - Reft of thy senses, Bungay? show by signs - If thou be dumb, what passion holdeth thee. - - _Lacy._ He's dumb indeed. Bacon hath with his devils - Enchanted him, or else some strange disease - Or apoplexy hath possess'd his lungs: - But, Peggy, what he cannot with his book - We'll 'twixt us both unite it up in heart. - -_Mar._ Else let me die, my lord, a miscreant. - -_P. Edw._ Why stands Friar Bungay so amaz'd? - -_Bacon._ I have struck him dumb, my lord; and, if your honour please -I'll fetch this Bungay straightway from Fressingfield, -And he shall dine with us in Oxford here. - -_P. Edw._ Bacon, do that, and thou contentest me. - - _Lacy._ Of courtesy, Margaret, let us lead the friar - Unto thy father's lodge, to comfort him - With broths, to bring him from this hapless trance. - - _Mar._ Or else, my lord, we were passing unkind - To leave the friar so in his distress. - - _Enter a_ Devil, _who carries off_ BUNGAY _on his back._ - - O, help, my lord! a devil, a devil, my lord! - Look how he carries Bungay on his back! - Let's hence, for Bacon's spirits be abroad. - [_Exit with_ LACY. - - _P. Edw._ Bacon, I laugh to see the jolly friar - Mounted upon the devil, and how the earl - Flees with his bonny lass for fear. - As soon as Bungay is at Brazen-nose, - And I have chatted with the merry friar, - I will in post hie me to Fressingfield, - And quite these wrongs on Lacy ere't be long. - - _Bacon._ So be it, my lord: but let us to our dinner; - For ere we have taken our repast awhile, - We shall have Bungay brought to Brazen-nose. - [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE IV.--_The Regent House at Oxford._ - - _Enter_ BURDEN, MASON, _and_ CLEMENT. - - _Mason._ Now that we are gathered in the Regent House, - It fits us talk about the king's repair; - For he, troop'd with all the western kings, - That lie along'st the Dantzic seas by east, - North by the clime of frosty Germany, - The Almain monarch and the Saxon duke, - Castile and lovely Elinor with him, - Have in their jests resolv'd for Oxford town. - - _Burd._ We must lay plots of stately tragedies, - Strange comic shows, such as proud Roscius - Vaunted before the Roman Emperors, - To welcome all the western potentates. - - _Clem._ But more; the king by letters hath foretold - That Frederick, the Almain emperor, - Hath brought with him a German of esteem, - Whose surname is Don Jaques Vandermast, - Skilful in magic and those secret arts. - - _Mason._ Then must we all make suit unto the friar, - To Friar Bacon, that he vouch this task, - And undertake to countervail in skill - The German; else there's none in Oxford can - Match and dispute with learnèd Vandermast. - - _Burd._ Bacon, if he will hold the German play, - Will teach him what an English friar can do: - The devil, I think, dare not dispute with him. - - _Clem._ Indeed, Mas doctor, he [dis]pleasur'd you, - In that he brought your hostess, with her spit, - From Henley, posting unto Brazen-nose. - - _Burd._ A vengeance on the friar for his pains! - But leaving that, let's hie to Bacon straight, - To see if he will take this task in hand. - -_Clem._ Stay, what rumour is this? the town is up in a mutiny: what -hurly-burly is this? - - _Enter a_ Constable, _with_ RALPH SIMNELL, WARREN, ERMSBY, _still - disguised as before, and_ MILES. - -_Cons._ Nay, masters, if you were ne'er so good, you shall before the -doctors to answer your misdemeanour. - -_Burd._ What's the matter, fellow? - -_Cons._ Marry, sir, here's a company of rufflers,[200] that, drinking -in the tavern, have made a great brawl, and almost killed the vintner. - - _Miles. Salve_, Doctor Burden![201] - This lubberly lurden, - Ill-shap'd and ill-fac'd, - Disdain'd and disgrac'd, - What he tells unto _vobis_ - _Mentitur de nobis._ - - _Burd._ Who is the master and chief of this crew? - - _Miles. Ecce asinum mundi_ - _Figura rotundi,_ - Neat, sheat, and fine, - As brisk as a cup of wine. - -_Burd._ [_to_ RALPH]. What are you? - -_Ralph._ I am, father doctor, as a man would say, the bell-wether of -this company: these are my lords, and I the Prince of Wales. - -_Clem._ Are you Edward, the king's son? - -_Ralph._ Sirrah Miles, bring hither the tapster that drew the wine, -and, I warrant, when they see how soundly I have broke his head, -they'll say 'twas done by no less man than a prince. - -_Mason._ I cannot believe that this is the Prince of Wales. - -_War._ And why so, sir? - -_Mason._ For they say the prince is a brave and a wise gentleman. - - _War._ Why, and think'st thou, doctor, that he is not so? - Dar'st thou detract and derogate from him, - Being so lovely and so brave a youth? - - _Erms._ Whose face, shining with many a sugar'd smile, - Bewrays that he is bred of princely race. - - _Miles._ And yet, master doctor, - To speak like a proctor, - And tell unto you - What is veriment and true: - To cease of this quarrel, - Look but on his apparel; - Then mark but my talis, - He is great Prince of Walis, - The chief of our _gregis,_ - And _filius regis:_ - Then 'ware what is done, - For he is Henry's white[202] son. - -_Ralph._ Doctors, whose doting night-caps are not capable of my -ingenious dignity, know that I am Edward Plantagenet, whom if you -displease, will make a ship that shall hold all your colleges, and -so carry away the university with a fair wind to the Bankside in -Southwark.--How sayest thou, Ned Warren, shall I not do it? - -_War._ Yes, my good lord; and, if it please your lordship, I will -gather up all your old pantofles,[203] and with the cork make you a -pinnace of five hundred ton, that shall serve the turn marvellous well, -my lord. - -_Erms._ And I, my lord, will have pioners to undermine the town, that -the very gardens and orchards be carried away for your summer walks. - - _Miles._ And I, with _scientia_ - And great _diligentia_, - Will conjure and charm, - To keep you from harm; - That _utrum horum mavis_, - Your very great _navis_, - Like Barclay's ship,[204] - From Oxford do skip - With colleges and schools, - Full-loaden with fools. - _Quid dicis ad hoc,_ - Worshipful _Domine_ Dawcock?[205] - - _Clem._ Why, hare-brain'd courtiers, are you drunk or mad, - To taunt us up with such scurrility? - Deem you us men of base and light esteem, - To bring us such a fop for Henry's son?-- - Call out the beadles and convey them hence - Straight to Bocardo:[206] let the roisters lie - Close clapt in bolts, until their wits be tame. - -_Erms._ Why, shall we to prison, my lord? - -_Ralph._ What sayest, Miles, shall I honour the prison with my presence? - - _Miles._ No, no: out with your blades, - And hamper these jades; - Have a flurt and a crash, - Now play revel-dash, - And teach these sacerdos - That the Bocardos, - Like peasants and elves, - Are meet for themselves. - - _Mason._ To the prison with them, constable. - - _War._ Well, doctors, seeing I have sported me - With laughing at these mad and merry wags, - Know that Prince Edward is at Brazen-nose, - And this, attirèd like the Prince of Wales, - Is Ralph, King Henry's only lovèd fool; - I, Earl of Sussex, and this Ermsby, - One of the privy-chamber to the king; - Who, while the prince with Friar Bacon stays, - Have revell'd it in Oxford as you see. - - _Mason._ My lord, pardon us, we knew not what you were: - But courtiers may make greater scapes than these. - Wilt please your honour dine with me to-day? - -_War._ I will, Master doctor, and satisfy the vintner for his hurt; -only I must desire you to imagine him all this forenoon the Prince of -Wales. - -_Mason._ I will, sir. - -_Ralph._ And upon that I will lead the way; only I will have Miles go -before me, because I have heard Henry say that wisdom must go before -majesty. [_Exeunt._ - - - - -ACT THE THIRD - - -SCENE I.--_At Fressingfield._ - - _Enter_ PRINCE EDWARD _with his poniard in his hand,_ LACY _and_ - MARGARET. - - _P. Edw._ Lacy, thou canst not shroud thy traitorous thoughts, - Nor cover, as did Cassius, all thy wiles; - For Edward hath an eye that looks as far - As Lyncæus from the shores of Græcia. - Did I not sit in Oxford by the friar, - And see thee court the maid of Fressingfield, - Sealing thy flattering fancies with a kiss? - Did not proud Bungay draw his portace forth, - And joining hand in hand had married you, - If Friar Bacon had not struck him dumb, - And mounted him upon a spirit's back, - That we might chat at Oxford with the friar? - Traitor, what answer'st? is not all this true? - - _Lacy._ Truth all, my lord; and thus I make reply, - At Harleston fair, there courting for your grace, - Whenas mine eye survey'd her curious shape, - And drew the beauteous glory of her looks - To dive into the centre of my heart, - Love taught me that your honour did but jest, - That princes were in fancy but as men; - How that the lovely maid of Fressingfield - Was fitter to be Lacy's wedded wife, - Than concubine unto the Prince of Wales. - - _P. Edw._ Injurious Lacy, did I love thee more - Than Alexander his Hephæstion? - Did I unfold the passions of my love, - And lock them in the closet of thy thoughts? - Wert thou to Edward second to himself, - Sole friend and partner of his secret loves? - And could a glance of fading beauty break - Th' enchainèd fetters of such private friends? - Base coward, false, and too effeminate - To be corrival with a prince in thoughts! - From Oxford have I posted since I din'd, - To quite a traitor 'fore that Edward sleep. - - _Mar._ 'Twas I, my lord, not Lacy, stept awry: - For oft he su'd and courted for yourself, - And still woo'd for the courtier all in green; - But I, whom fancy made but over-fond, - Pleaded myself with looks as if I lov'd; - I fed mine eye with gazing on his face, - And still bewitch'd lov'd Lacy with my looks; - My heart with sighs, mine eyes pleaded with tears, - My face held pity and content at once; - And more I could not cipher-out by signs - But that I lov'd Lord Lacy with my heart. - Then, worthy Edward, measure with thy mind - If women's favours will not force men fall, - If beauty, and if darts of piercing love, - Are not of force to bury thoughts of friends. - - _P. Edw._ I tell thee, Peggy, I will have thy loves: - Edward or none shall conquer Margaret. - In frigates bottom'd with rich Sethin planks, - Topt with the lofty firs of Lebanon, - Stemm'd and encas'd with burnish'd ivory, - And overlaid with plates of Persian wealth, - Like Thetis shalt thou wanton on the waves, - And draw the dolphins to thy lovely eyes, - To dance lavoltas[207] in the purple streams: - Sirens, with harps and silver psalteries, - Shall wait with music at thy frigate's stem, - And entertain fair Margaret with their lays. - England and England's wealth shall wait on thee; - Britain shall bend unto her prince's love, - And do due homage to thine excellence, - If thou wilt be but Edward's Margaret. - - _Mar._ Pardon, my lord: if Jove's great royalty - Sent me such presents as to Danaë; - If Phœbus 'tirèd in Latona's webs, - Came courting from the beauty of his lodge; - The dulcet tunes of frolic Mercury,-- - Not all the wealth heaven's treasury affords,-- - Should make me leave Lord Lacy or his love. - - _P. Edw._ I have learn'd at Oxford, there, this point of schools,-- - _Ablata causa, tollitur effectus:_ - Lacy--the cause that Margaret cannot love - Nor fix her liking on the English prince-- - Take him away, and then the effects will fail. - Villain, prepare thyself; for I will bathe - My poniard in the bosom of an earl. - - _Lacy._ Rather than live, and miss fair Margaret's love, - Prince Edward, stop not at the fatal doom, - But stab it home: end both my loves and life. - - _Mar._ Brave Prince of Wales, honour'd for royal deeds, - 'Twere sin to stain fair Venus' courts with blood; - Love's conquest ends, my lord, in courtesy: - Spare Lacy, gentle Edward; let me die, - For so both you and he do cease your loves. - - _P. Edw._ Lacy shall die as traitor to his lord. - - _Lacy._ I have deserv'd it, Edward; act it well. - - _Mar._ What hopes the prince to gain by Lacy's death? - - _P. Edw._ To end the loves 'twixt him and Margaret. - - _Mar._ Why, thinks King Henry's son that Margaret's love - Hangs in th' uncertain balance of proud time? - That death shall make a discord of our thoughts? - No, stab the earl, and 'fore the morning sun - Shall vaunt him thrice over the lofty east, - Margaret will meet her Lacy in the heavens. - - _Lacy._ If aught betides to lovely Margaret - That wrongs or wrings her honour from content, - Europe's rich wealth nor England's monarchy - Should not allure Lacy to over-live: - Then, Edward, short my life and end her loves. - - _Mar._ Rid me, and keep a friend worth many loves. - - _Lacy._ Nay, Edward, keep a love worth many friends. - - _Mar._ An if thy mind be such as fame hath blaz'd, - Then, princely Edward, let us both abide - The fatal resolution of thy rage: - Banish thou fancy, and embrace revenge, - And in one tomb knit both our carcases, - Whose hearts were linkèd in one perfect love. - - _P. Edw._ [_aside._] Edward, art thou that famous Prince of Wales, - Who at Damasco beat the Saracens, - And brought'st home triumph on thy lance's point? - And shall thy plumes be pull'd by Venus down? - Is't princely to dissever lover's leagues, - To part such friends as glory in their loves? - Leave, Ned, and make a virtue of this fault, - And further Peg and Lacy in their loves: - So in subduing fancy's passion, - Conquering thyself, thou gett'st the richest spoil.-- - Lacy, rise up. Fair Peggy, here's my hand: - The Prince of Wales hath conquer'd all his thoughts, - And all his loves he yields unto the earl. - Lacy, enjoy the maid of Fressingfield; - Make her thy Lincoln Countess at the church, - And Ned, as he is true Plantagenet, - Will give her to thee frankly for thy wife. - - _Lacy._ Humbly I take her of my sovereign, - As if that Edward gave me England's right, - And rich'd me with the Albion diadem. - - _Mar._ And doth the English prince mean true? - Will he vouchsafe to cease his former loves, - And yield the title of a country maid - Unto Lord Lacy? - - _P. Edw._ I will, fair Peggy, as I am true lord. - - _Mar._ Then, lordly sir, whose conquest is as great, - In conquering love, as Cæsar's victories, - Margaret, as mild and humble in her thoughts - As was Aspasia unto Cyrus self, - Yields thanks, and, next Lord Lacy, doth enshrine - Edward the second secret in her heart. - - _P. Edw._ Gramercy, Peggy:--now that vows are past, - And that your loves are not to be revolt,[208] - Once, Lacy, friends again. Come, we will post - To Oxford; for this day the king is there, - And brings for Edward Castile Elinor. - Peggy, I must go see and view my wife: - I pray God I like her as I lovèd thee. - Beside, Lord Lincoln, we shall hear dispute - 'Twixt Friar Bacon and learn'd Vandermast. - Peggy, we'll leave you for a week or two. - - _Mar._ As it please Lord Lacy: but love's foolish looks - Think footsteps miles, and minutes to be hours. - - _Lacy._ I'll hasten, Peggy, to make short return.-- - But please your honour go unto the lodge, - We shall have butter, cheese, and venison; - And yesterday I brought for Margaret - A lusty bottle of neat claret-wine: - Thus can we feast and entertain your grace. - - _P. Edw._ 'Tis cheer, Lord Lacy, for an Emperor, - If he respect the person and the place: - Come, let us in; for I will all this night - Ride post until I come to Bacon's cell. - [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE II.--_At Oxford._ - - _Enter_ KING HENRY, _the_ EMPEROR, _the_ KING OF CASTILE, ELINOR, - VANDERMAST, _and_ BUNGAY. - - _Emp._ Trust me, Plantagenet, these Oxford schools - Are richly seated near the river-side: - The mountains full of fat and fallow deer, - The battling[209] pastures lade[210] with kine and flocks, - The town gorgeous with high-built colleges, - And scholars seemly in their grave attire, - Learnèd in searching principles of art.-- - What is thy judgment, Jaques Vandermast? - - _Van._ That lordly are the buildings of the town, - Spacious the rooms, and full of pleasant walks; - But for the doctors, how that they be learnèd, - It may be meanly, for aught I can hear. - - _Bun._ I tell thee, German, Hapsburg holds none such - None read so deep as Oxenford contains: - There are within our academic state - Men that may lecture it in Germany - To all the doctors of your Belgic schools. - - _K. Hen._ Stand to him, Bungay, charm this Vandermast, - And I will use thee as a royal king. - - _Van._ Wherein dar'st thou dispute with me? - - _Bun._ In what a doctor and a friar can. - - _Van._ Before rich Europe's worthies put thou forth - The doubtful question unto Vandermast. - -_Bun._ Let it be this,--Whether the spirits of pyromancy or geomancy, -be most predominant in magic? - -_Van._ I say, of pyromancy. - -_Bun._ And I, of geomancy. - - _Van._ The cabalists that write of magic spells, - As Hermes,[211] Melchie,[212] and Pythagoras, - Affirm that, 'mongst the quadruplicity - Of elemental essence, _terra_ is but thought - To be a _punctum_ squarèd to[213] the rest; - And that the compass of ascending elements - Exceed in bigness as they do in height; - Judging the concave circle of the sun - To hold the rest in his circumference. - If, then, as Hermes says, the fire be greatest, - Purest, and only giveth shape to spirits, - Then must these dæmones that haunt that place - Be every way superior to the rest. - - _Bun._ I reason not of elemental shapes, - Nor tell I of the concave latitudes, - Noting their essence nor their quality, - But of the spirits that pyromancy calls, - And of the vigour of the geomantic fiends. - I tell thee, German, magic haunts the ground, - And those strange necromantic spells - That work such shows and wondering in the world - Are acted by those geomantic spirits - That Hermes calleth _terræ filii_. - The fiery spirits are but transparent shades, - That lightly pass as heralds to bear news; - But earthly fiends, clos'd in the lowest deep, - Dissever mountains, if they be but charg'd, - Being more gross and massy in their power. - - _Van._ Rather these earthly geomantic spirits - Are dull and like the place where they remain; - For when proud Lucifer fell from the heavens, - The spirits and angels that did sin with him, - Retain'd their local essence as their faults, - All subject under Luna's continent: - They which offended less hung in the fire, - And second faults did rest within the air; - But Lucifer and his proud-hearted fiends - Were thrown into the centre of the earth, - Having less understanding than the rest, - As having greater sin and lesser grace. - Therefore such gross and earthly spirits do serve - For jugglers, witches, and vile sorcerers; - Whereas the pyromantic genii - Are mighty, swift, and of far-reaching power. - But grant that geomancy hath most force; - Bungay, to please these mighty potentates, - Prove by some instance what thy art can do. - - _Bun._ I will. - - _Emp._ Now, English Harry, here begins the game; - We shall see sport between these learnèd men. - - _Van._ What wilt thou do? - - _Bun._ Show thee the tree, leav'd with refinèd gold, - Whereon the fearful dragon held his seat, - That watch'd the garden call'd Hesperides, - Subdu'd and won by conquering Hercules. - - _Here_ BUNGAY _conjures, and the Tree appears with the Dragon shooting - fire._ - -_Van._ Well done! - - _K. Hen._ What say you, royal lordings, to my friar? - Hath he not done a point of cunning skill? - - _Van._ Each scholar in the necromantic spells - Can do as much as Bungay hath perform'd. - But as Alcmena's bastard raz'd this tree, - So will I raise him up as when he liv'd, - And cause him pull the dragon from his seat, - And tear the branches piecemeal from the root.-- - Hercules! _Prodi, prodi,_ Hercules! - - HERCULES _appears in his lion's skin._ - - _Her. Quis me vult?_ - - _Van._ Jove's bastard son, thou Libyan Hercules, - Pull off the sprigs from off the Hesperian tree, - As once thou didst to win the golden fruit. - - _Her. Fiat._ [_Begins to break the branches._ - - _Van._ Now, Bungay, if thou canst by magic charm - The fiend, appearing like great Hercules, - From pulling down the branches of the tree, - Then art thou worthy to be counted learnèd. - - _Bun._ I cannot. - - _Van._ Cease, Hercules, until I give thee charge.-- - Mighty commander of this English isle, - Henry, come from the stout Plantagenets, - Bungay is learn'd enough to be a friar; - But to compare with Jaques Vandermast, - Oxford and Cambridge must go seek their cells - To find a man to match him in his art. - I have given non-plus to the Paduans, - To them of Sien, Florence, and Bologna, - Rheims, Louvain, and fair Rotterdam, - Frankfort, Lutrech,[214] and Orleans: - And now must Henry, if he do me right, - Crown me with laurel, as they all have done. - - _Enter_ BACON. - - _Bacon._ All hail to this royal company, - That sit to hear and see this strange dispute!-- - Bungay, how stand'st thou as a man amaz'd? - What, hath the German acted more than thou? - - _Van._ What art thou that question'st thus? - - _Bacon._ Men call me Bacon. - - _Van._ Lordly thou look'st, as if that thou wert learn'd; - Thy countenance, as if science held her seat - Between the circled arches of thy brows. - - _K. Hen._ Now, monarchs, hath the German found his match. - - _Emp._ Bestir thee, Jaques, take not now the foil, - Lest thou dost lose what foretime thou didst gain. - - _Van._ Bacon, wilt thou dispute? - - _Bacon._ No, unless he were more learn'd than Vandermast; - For yet, tell me, what hast thou done? - - _Van._ Rais'd Hercules to ruinate that tree, - That Bungay mounted by his magic spells. - - _Bacon._ Set Hercules to work. - - _Van._ Now, Hercules, I charge thee to thy task; - Pull off the golden branches from the root. - - _Her._ I dare not; see'st thou not great Bacon here, - Whose frown doth act more than thy magic can? - - _Van._ By all the thrones, and dominations, - Virtues, powers, and mighty hierarchies, - I charge thee to obey to Vandermast. - - _Her._ Bacon, that bridles headstrong Belcephon, - And rules Asmenoth, guider of the north, - Binds me from yielding unto Vandermast. - - _K. Hen._ How now, Vandermast! have you met with your match? - - _Van._ Never before was't known to Vandermast - That men held devils in such obedient awe. - Bacon doth more than art, or else I fail. - - _Emp._ Why, Vandermast, art thou overcome?-- - Bacon, dispute with him, and try his skill. - - _Bacon._ I came not, monarchs, for to hold dispute - With such a novice as is Vandermast; - I came to have your royalties to dine - With Friar Bacon here in Brazen-nose: - And, for this German troubles but the place, - And holds this audience with a long suspence, - I'll send him to his académy hence.-- - Thou, Hercules, whom Vandermast did raise, - Transport the German unto Hapsburg straight, - That he may learn by travail, 'gainst the spring, - More secret dooms and aphorisms of art. - Vanish the tree, and thou away with him! - [_Exit_ HERCULES _with_ VANDERMAST _and the Tree._ - - _Emp._ Why, Bacon, whither dost thou send him? - - _Bacon._ To Hapsburg: there your highness at return - Shall find the German in his study safe. - - _K. Hen._ Bacon, thou hast honour'd England with thy skill, - And made fair Oxford famous by thine art: - I will be English Henry to thyself;-- - But tell me, shall we dine with thee to-day? - - _Bacon._ With me, my lord; and while I fit my cheer, - See where Prince Edward comes to welcome you, - Gracious as the morning-star of heaven. - [_Exit._ - - _Enter_ PRINCE EDWARD, LACY, WARREN, ERMSBY. - - _Emp._ Is this Prince Edward, Henry's royal son? - How martial is the figure of his face! - Yet lovely and beset with amorets.[215] - - _K. Hen._ Ned, where hast thou been? - - _P. Edw._ At Framlingham, my lord, to try your bucks - If they could scape the teasers or the toil. - But hearing of these lordly potentates - Landed, and progress'd up to Oxford town, - I posted to give entertain to them: - Chief to the Almain monarch; next to him, - And joint with him, Castile and Saxony - Are welcome as they may be to the English court. - Thus for the men: but see, Venus appears, - Or one that overmatcheth Venus in her shape! - Sweet Elinor, beauty's high-swelling pride, - Rich nature's glory, and her wealth at once, - Fair of all fairs, welcome to _Albion_; - Welcome to me, and welcome to thine own, - If that thou deign'st the welcome from myself. - - _Elin._ Martial Plantagenet, Henry's high-minded son, - The mark that Elinor did count her aim, - I lik'd thee 'fore I saw thee: now I love, - And so as in so short a time I may; - Yet so as time shall never break that so: - And therefore so accept of Elinor. - - _K. of Cast._ Fear not, my lord, this couple will agree, - If love may creep into their wanton eyes:-- - And therefore, Edward, I accept thee here, - Without suspence, as my adopted son. - - _K. Hen._ Let me that joy in these consorting greets, - And glory in these honours done to Ned, - Yield thanks for all these favours to my son, - And rest a true Plantagenet to all. - - _Enter_ MILES _with a cloth and trenchers and salt._ - - _Miles. Salvete, omnes reges,_ - That govern your _greges_ - In Saxony and Spain, - In England and in Almain! - For all this frolic rabble - Must I cover the table - With trenchers, salt, and cloth; - And then look for your broth. - -_Emp._ What pleasant fellow is this? - -_K. Hen._ 'Tis, my lord, Doctor Bacon's poor scholar. - -_Miles._ [_aside_]. My master hath made me sewer of these great lords; -and, God knows, I am as serviceable at a table as a sow is under -an apple-tree: 'tis no matter; their cheer shall not be great, and -therefore what skills where the salt stand, before or behind?[216] -[_Exit._ - - _K. of Cast._ These scholars know more skill in axioms, - How to use quips and sleights of sophistry, - Than for to cover courtly for a king. - - _Re-enter_ MILES _with a mess of pottage and broth; and after him,_ - BACON. - - _Miles._ Spill, sir? why, do you think I never carried twopenny chop - before in my life?-- - By you leave, _nobile decus_, - For here comes Doctor Bacon's _pecus_, - Being in his full age - To carry a mess of pottage. - - _Bacon._ Lordings, admire not if your cheer be this, - For we must keep our academic fare; - No riot where philosophy doth reign: - And therefore, Henry, place these potentates, - And bid them fall unto their frugal cates. - - _Emp._ Presumptuous friar! what, scoff'st thou at a king? - What, dost thou taunt us with thy peasant's fare, - And give us cates fit for country swains?-- - Henry, proceeds this jest of thy consent, - To twit us with a pittance of such price? - Tell me, and Frederick will not grieve thee long. - - _K. Hen._ By Henry's honour, and the royal faith - The English monarch beareth to his friend, - I knew not of the friar's feeble fare, - Nor am I pleas'd he entertains you thus. - - _Bacon._ Content thee, Frederick, for I show'd the cates - To let thee see how scholars use to feed; - How little meat refines our English wits:-- - Miles, take away, and let it be thy dinner. - - _Miles._ Marry, sir, I will. - This day shall be a festival-day with me, - For I shall exceed in the highest degree. [_Exit._ - - _Bacon._ I tell thee, monarch, all the German peers - Could not afford thy entertainment such, - So royal and so full of majesty, - As Bacon will present to Frederick. - The basest waiter that attends thy cups - Shall be in honours greater than thyself; - And for thy cates, rich Alexandria drugs,[217] - Fetch'd by carvels from Ægypt's richest straits, - Found in the wealthy strand of Africa, - Shall royalize the table of my king; - Wines richer than th' Ægyptian courtesan - Quaff'd to Augustus' kingly countermatch, - Shall be carous'd in English Henry's feast; - Candy shall yield the richest of her canes; - Persia, down her Volga by canoes, - Send down the secrets of her spicery; - The Afric dates, mirabolans[218] of Spain, - Conserves, and suckets[219] from Tiberias, - Cates from Judæa, choicer that the lamp - That firèd Rome with sparks of gluttony, - Shall beautify the board for Frederick: - And therefore grudge not at a friar's feast. - - -SCENE III.--_At Fressingfield._ - - _Enter_ LAMBERT _and_ SERLSBY _with the_ Keeper. - - _Lam._ Come, frolic Keeper of our liege's game, - Whose table spread hath other venison - And jacks of wines to welcome passengers, - Know I'm in love with jolly Margaret, - That overshines our damsels as the moon - Darkeneth the brightest sparkles of the night. - In Laxfield here my land and living lies: - I'll make thy daughter jointer of it all, - So thou consent to give her to my wife; - And I can spend five-hundred marks a year. - - _Serl._ I am the lands-lord, Keeper, of thy holds, - By copy all thy living lies in me; - Laxfield did never see me raise my due: - I will enfeoff fair Margaret in all, - So she will take her to a lusty squire. - - _Keep._ Now, courteous gentles, if the Keeper's girl - Hath pleas'd the liking fancy of you both, - And with her beauty hath subdu'd your thoughts, - 'Tis doubtful to decide the question. - It joys me that such men of great esteem - Should lay their liking on this base estate, - And that her state should grow so fortunate - To be a wife to meaner men than you: - But sith such squires will stoop to keeper's fee, - I will, to avoid displeasure of you both, - Call Margaret forth, and she shall make her choice. - - _Lam._ Content, Keeper; send her unto us. - [_Exit_ Keeper. - Why, Serlsby, is thy wife so lately dead, - Are all thy loves so lightly passèd over, - As thou canst wed before the year be out? - - _Serl._ I live not, Lambert, to content the dead, - Nor was I wedded but for life to her: - The grave ends and begins a married state. - - _Enter_ MARGARET. - - _Lam._ Peggy, the lovely flower of all towns, - Suffolk's fair Helen, and rich England's star, - Whose beauty, temper'd with her huswifery, - Makes England talk of merry Fressingfield! - - _Serl._ I cannot trick it up with poesies, - Nor paint my passions with comparisons, - Nor tell a tale of Phœbus and his loves: - But this believe me,--Laxfield here is mine, - Of ancient rent seven-hundred pounds a year; - And if thou canst but love a country squire, - I will enfeoff thee, Margaret, in all: - I cannot flatter; try me, if thou please. - - _Mar._ Brave neighbouring squires, the stay of Suffolk's clime, - A keeper's daughter is too base in gree - To match with men accounted of such worth: - But might I not displease, I would reply. - - _Lam._ Say, Peggy; naught shall make us discontent. - - _Mar._ Then, gentles, note that love hath little stay, - Nor can the flames that Venus sets on fire - Be kindled but by fancy's motion: - Then pardon, gentles, if a maid's reply - Be doubtful, while I have debated with myself, - Who, or of whom, love shall constrain me like. - - _Serl._ Let it be me; and trust me, Margaret, - The meads environ'd with the silver streams, - Whose battling pastures fatten all my flocks, - Yielding forth fleeces stapled with such wool, - As Lemnster cannot yield more finer stuff, - And forty kine with fair and burnish'd heads, - With strouting[220] dugs that paggle to the ground, - Shall serve thy dairy, if thou wed with me. - - _Lam._ Let pass the country wealth, as flocks and kine, - And lands that wave with Ceres' golden sheaves, - Filling my barns with plenty of the fields; - But, Peggy, if thou wed thyself to me, - Thou shalt have garments of embroider'd silk, - Lawns, and rich net-works for thy head-attire: - Costly shall be thy fair habiliments, - If thou wilt be but Lambert's loving wife. - - _Mar._ Content you, gentles, you have proffer'd fair, - And more than fits a country maid's degree: - But give me leave to counsel me a time, - For fancy blooms not at the first assault; - Give me but ten days' respite, and I will reply, - Which or to whom myself affectionates. - - _Serl._ Lambert, I tell thee thou'rt importunate; - Such beauty fits not such a base esquire: - It is for Serlsby to have Margaret. - - _Lam._ Think'st thou with wealth to overreach me? - Serlsby, I scorn to brook thy country braves: - I dare thee, coward, to maintain this wrong, - At dint of rapier, single in the field. - - _Serl._ I'll answer, Lambert, what I have avouch'd.-- - Margaret, farewell; another time shall serve. - [_Exit._ - - _Lam._ I'll follow--Peggy, farewell to thyself; - Listen how well I'll answer for thy love. - [_Exit._ - - _Mar._ How fortune tempers lucky haps with frowns, - And wrongs me with the sweets of my delight! - Love is my bliss, and love is now my bale. - Shall I be Helen in my froward fates, - As I am Helen in my matchless hue, - And set rich Suffolk with my face afire? - If lovely Lacy were but with his Peggy, - The cloudy darkness of his bitter frown - Would check the pride of these aspiring squires. - Before the term of ten days be expir'd, - Whenas they look for answer of their loves, - My lord will come to merry Fressingfield, - And end their fancies and their follies both: - Till when, Peggy, be blithe and of good cheer. - - _Enter a_ Post _with a letter and a bag of gold._ - - _Post._ Fair, lovely damsel, which way leads this path? - How might I post me unto Fressingfield? - Which footpath leadeth to the Keeper's lodge? - - _Mar._ Your way is ready, and this path is right: - Myself do dwell hereby in Fressingfield; - And if the Keeper be the man you seek, - I am his daughter: may I know the cause? - - _Post._ Lovely, and once belovèd of my lord,-- - No marvel if his eye was lodg'd so low, - When brighter beauty is not in the heavens,-- - The Lincoln Earl hath sent you letters here, - And, with them, just an hundred pounds in gold. - Sweet, bonny wench, read them, and make reply. - [_Gives letter and bag._ - - _Mar._ The scrolls that Jove sent Danaë, - Wrapt in rich closures of fine burnish'd gold, - Were not more welcome than these lines to me. - Tell me, whilst that I do unrip the seals, - Lives Lacy well? how fares my lovely lord? - -_Post._ Well, if that wealth may make men to live well. - -_Mar._ [_reads._] _The blooms of the almond tree grow in a night, -and vanish in a morn; the flies hæmeræ, fair Peggy, take life with -the sun, and die with the dew; fancy that slippeth in with a gaze, -goeth out with a wink; and too timely loves have ever the shortest -length. I write this as thy grief and my folly, who at Fressingfield -loved that which time hath taught me to be but mean dainties: eyes -are dissemblers, and fancy is but queasy; therefore know, Margaret, I -have chosen a Spanish lady to be my wife, chief waiting-woman to the -Princess Elinor; a lady fair, and no less fair than thyself, honourable -and wealthy. In that I forsake thee, I leave thee to thine own liking; -and for thy dowry I have sent thee an hundred pounds; and ever assure -thee of my favour, which shall avail thee and thine much. Farewell._ - -_Not thine, nor his own,_ - -_Edward Lacy._ - - Fond Ate, doomer of bad-boding fates, - That wraps proud fortune in thy snaky locks, - Did'st thou enchant my birthday with such stars - As lighten'd mischief from their infancy? - If heavens had vow'd, if stars had made decree, - To show on me their froward influence, - If Lacy had but lov'd, heavens, hell, and all - Could not have wrong'd the patience of my mind. - - _Post._ It grieves me, damsel; but the earl is forc'd - To love the lady by the king's command. - - _Mar._ The wealth combin'd within the English shelves,[221] - Europe's commander, nor the English king, - Should not have mov'd the love of Peggy from her lord. - - _Post._ What answer shall I return to my lord? - - _Mar._ First, for thou cam'st from Lacy whom I lov'd,-- - Ah, give me leave to sigh at every thought!-- - Take thou, my friend, the hundred pound he sent; - For Margaret's resolution craves no dower: - The world shall be to her as vanity; - Wealth, trash; love, hate; pleasure, despair: - For I will straight to stately Framlingham, - And in the abbey there be shorn a nun, - And yield my loves and liberty to God. - Fellow, I give thee this, not for the news, - For those be hateful unto Margaret, - But for thou'rt Lacy's man, once Margaret's love. - - _Post._ What I have heard, what passions I have seen, - I'll make report of them unto the earl. - - _Mar._ Say that she joys his fancies be at rest. - And prays that his misfortune may be hers. - [_Exeunt._ - - - - -ACT THE FOURTH - - -SCENE I.--FRIAR BACON'S _Cell_. - - FRIAR BACON _draws the curtains and is discovered, lying on a - bed,_[222] _with a white stick in one hand, a book in the other, and - a lamp lighted beside him; and the_ Brazen Head, _and_ MILES _with - weapons by him._ - -_Bacon._ Miles, where are you? - -_Miles._ Here, sir. - -_Bacon._ How chance you tarry so long? - -_Miles._ Think you that the watching of the Brazen Head craves no -furniture? I warrant you, sir, I have so armed myself that if all your -devils come, I will not fear them an inch. - - _Bacon._ Miles, thou know'st that I have divèd into hell, - And sought the darkest palaces of fiends; - That with my magic spells great Belcephon - Hath left his lodge and kneelèd at my cell; - The rafters of the earth rent from the poles, - And three-form'd Luna hid her silver looks, - Trembling upon her concave continent, - When Bacon read upon his magic book. - With seven years' tossing necromantic charms, - Poring upon dark Hecat's principles, - I have fram'd out a monstrous head of brass, - That, by the enchanting forces of the devil, - Shall tell out strange and uncouth aphorisms, - And girt fair England with a wall of brass. - Bungay and I have watch'd these threescore days, - And now our vital spirits crave some rest: - If Argus liv'd, and had his hundred eyes, - They could not over watch Phobetor's night. - Now, Miles, in thee rests Friar Bacon's weal: - The honour and renown of all his life - Hangs in the watching of this Brazen Head; - Therefore I charge thee by the immortal God, - That holds the souls of men within his fist, - This night thou watch; for ere the morning-star - Sends out his glorious glister on the north, - The head will speak: then, Miles, upon thy life, - Wake me; for then by magic art I'll work - To end my seven years' task with excellence. - If that a wink but shut thy watchful eye, - Then farewell Bacon's glory and his fame! - Draw close the curtains, Miles: now, for thy life, - Be watchful, and--[_Falls asleep._ - -_Miles._ So; I thought you would talk yourself asleep anon; and 'tis -no marvel, for Bungay on the days, and he on the nights, have watch'd -just these ten and fifty days: now this is the night, and 'tis my task, -and no more. Now, Jesus bless me, what a goodly head it is! and a -nose! you talk of _nos autem glorificare_;[223] but here's a nose that -I warrant may be called _nos autem populare_ for the people of the -parish. Well, I am furnished with weapons: now, sir, I will set me down -by a post, and make it as good as a watchman to wake me, if I chance -to slumber. I thought, Goodman Head, I would call you out of your -_memento_ ... Passion o' God, I have almost broke my pate! [_A great -noise._] Up, Miles, to your task; take your brown-bill[224] in your -hand; here's some of your master's hobgoblins abroad. - -_The Brazen Head._ Time is. - -_Miles._ Time is! Why, Master Brazen-head, have you such a capital -nose, and answer you with syllables, "Time is"? Is this all my master's -cunning, to spend seven years' study about "Time is"? Well, sir, it may -be we shall have some better orations of it anon: well, I'll watch you -as narrowly as ever you were watched, and I'll play with you as the -nightingale with the slow-worm; I'll set a prick against my breast. -Now rest there, Miles.--Lord have mercy upon me, I have almost killed -myself! [_A great noise._] Up, Miles; list how they rumble. - -_The Brazen Head._ Time was. - -_Miles._ Well, Friar Bacon, you have spent your seven years' study -well, that can make your head speak but two words at once, "Time was." -Yea, marry, time was when my master was a wise man, but that was before -he began to make the Brazen Head. You shall lie while your arse ache, -an your Head speak no better. Well, I will watch, and walk up and down, -and be a peripatetian and a philosopher of Aristotle's stamp. [_A great -noise._] What, a fresh noise? Take thy pistols in hand, Miles. - -_The Brazen Head._ Time is past. -[_A lightning flashes forth, and a hand appears that breaks down the_ -Head _with a hammer._ - -_Miles._ Master, master, up! hell's broken loose; your Head speaks; -and there's such a thunder and lightning, that I warrant all Oxford is -up in arms. Out of your bed, and take a brown-bill in your hand; the -latter day is come. - -_Bacon._ Miles, I come. O passing warily watch'd! -Bacon will make thee next himself in love. -When spake the head? - -_Miles._ When spake the head! did not you say that he should tell -strange principles of philosophy? Why, sir, it speaks but two words at -a time. - -_Bacon._ Why, villain, hath it spoken oft? - -_Miles._ Oft! ay, marry, hath it, thrice: but in all those three times -it hath uttered but seven words. - -_Bacon._ As how? - -_Miles._ Marry, sir, the first time he said, "Time is," as if Fabius -Cumentator[225] should have pronounced a sentence; [the second time] he -said "Time was"; and the third time with thunder and lightning, as in -great choler, he said, "Time is past." - - _Bacon._ 'Tis past indeed. Ah, villain! time is past: - My life, my fame, my glory, all are past.-- - Bacon, the turrets of thy hope are ruin'd down, - Thy seven years' study lieth in the dust: - Thy Brazen Head lies broken through a slave, - That watch'd, and would not when the Head did will.-- - What said the Head first? - - _Miles._ Even, sir, "Time is." - - _Bacon._ Villain, if thou hadst call'd to Bacon then, - If thou hadst watch'd, and wak'd the sleepy friar, - The Brazen Head had utter'd aphorisms, - And England had been circled round with brass: - But proud Asmenoth, ruler of the north, - And Demogorgon, master of the fates, - Grudge that a mortal man should work so much. - Hell trembled at my deep-commanding spells, - Fiends frown'd to see a man their over-match; - Bacon might boast more than a man might boast: - But now the braves of Bacon have an end, - Europe's conceit of Bacon hath an end, - His seven years' practice sorteth to ill end: - And, villain, sith my glory hath an end, - I will appoint thee to some fatal end. - Villain, avoid! get thee from Bacon's sight! - Vagrant, go roam and range about the world, - And perish as a vagabond on earth. - - _Miles._ Why, then, sir, you forbid me your service? - - _Bacon._ My service, villain! with a fatal curse, - That direful plagues and mischief fall on thee. - -_Miles._ 'Tis no matter, I am against you with the old proverb--"The -more the fox is curst[226] the better he fares." God be with you, sir; -I'll take but a book in my hand, a wide-sleeved gown on my back, and a -crowned cap on my head, and see if I can want promotion. [_Exit._ - - _Bacon._ Some fiend or ghost haunt on thy weary steps, - Until they do transport thee quick to hell: - For Bacon shall have never merry day, - To lose the fame and honour of his Head. [_Exit._ - - -SCENE II.--_At Court._ - - _Enter the_ EMPEROR, _the_ KING OF CASTILE, KING HENRY, ELINOR, PRINCE - EDWARD, LACY, _and_ RALPH SIMNELL. - - _Emp._ Now, lovely prince, the prime of Albion's wealth, - How fare the Lady Elinor and you? - What, have you courted and found Castile fit - To answer England in equivalence? - Will 't be a match 'twixt bonny Nell and thee? - - _P. Edw._ Should Paris enter in the courts of Greece, - And not lie fetter'd in fair Helen's looks? - Or Phœbus scape those piercing amorets, - That Daphne glancèd at his deity? - Can Edward, then, sit by a flame and freeze, - Whose heat puts Helen and fair Daphne down? - Now, monarchs, ask the lady if we gree. - - _K. Hen._ What, madam, hath my son found grace or no? - - _Elin._ Seeing, my lord, his lovely counterfeit, - And hearing how his mind and shape agreed, - I came not, troop'd with all this warlike train, - Doubting of love, but so affectionate, - As Edward hath in England what he won in Spain. - - _K. of Cast._ A match, my lord; these wantons needs must love: - Men must have wives, and women will be wed: - Let's haste the day to honour up the rites. - - _Ralph._ Sirrah Harry, shall Ned marry Nell? - - _K. Hen._ Ay, Ralph; how then? - -_Ralph._ Marry, Harry, follow my counsel: send for Friar Bacon to marry -them, for he'll so conjure him and her with his necromancy, that they -shall love together like pig and lamb whilst they live. - -_K. of Cast._ But hearest thou, Ralph, art thou content to have Elinor -to thy lady? - -_Ralph._ Ay, so she will promise me two things. - -_K. of Cast._ What's that, Ralph? - -_Ralph._ That she will never scold with Ned, nor fight with me.--Sirrah -Harry, I have put her down with a thing unpossible. - -_K. Hen._ What's that, Ralph? - -_Ralph._ Why, Harry, didst thou ever see that a woman could both hold -her tongue and her hands? No! but when egg-pies grow on apple-trees, -then will thy grey mare prove a bag-piper. - -_Emp._ What say the Lord of Castile and the Earl of Lincoln, that they -are in such earnest and secret talk? - - _K. of Cast._ I stand, my lord, amazèd at his talk, - How he discourseth of the constancy - Of one surnam'd, for beauty's excellence, - The Fair Maid of merry Fressingfield. - - _K. Hen._ 'Tis true, my lord, 'tis wondrous for to hear; - Her beauty passing Mars's paramour, - Her virgin's right as rich as Vesta's was: - Lacy and Ned have told me miracles. - - _K. of Cast._ What says Lord Lacy? shall she be his wife? - - _Lacy._ Or else Lord Lacy is unfit to live.-- - May it please your highness give me leave to post - To Fressingfield, I'll fetch the bonny girl, - And prove in true appearance at the court, - What I have vouchèd often with my tongue. - - _K. Hen._ Lacy, go to the 'querry of my stable, - And take such coursers as shall fit thy turn: - Hie thee to Fressingfield, and bring home the lass: - And, for her fame flies through the English coast, - If it may please the Lady Elinor, - One day shall match your excellence and her. - - _Elin._ We Castile ladies are not very coy; - Your highness may command a greater boon: - And glad were I to grace the Lincoln Earl - With being partner of his marriage-day. - - _P. Edw._ Gramercy, Nell, for I do love the lord, - As he that's second to myself in love. - -_Ralph._ You love her?--Madam Nell, never believe him you, though he -swears he loves you. - -_Elin._ Why, Ralph? - -_Ralph._ Why, his love is like unto a tapster's glass that is broken -with every touch; for he loved the fair maid of Fressingfield once out -of all ho.[227]--Nay, Ned, never wink upon me: I care not, I. - - _K. Hen._ Ralph tells all; you shall have a good secretary of him.-- - But, Lacy, haste thee post to Fressingfield; - For ere thou hast fitted all things for her state, - The solemn marriage-day will be at hand. - - _Lacy._ I go, my lord. [_Exit._ - - _Emp._ How shall we pass this day, my lord? - - _K. Hen._ To horse, my lord; the day is passing fair: - We'll fly the partridge, or go rouse the deer. - Follow, my lords; you shall not want for sport. - [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE III.--FRIAR BACON'S _Cell_. - - _Enter, to_ FRIAR BACON _in his cell,_ FRIAR BUNGAY. - - _Bun._ What means the friar that frolick'd it of late, - To sit as melancholy in his cell, - As if he had neither lost nor won to-day? - - _Bacon._ Ah, Bungay, my Brazen Head is spoil'd, - My glory gone, my seven years' study lost! - The fame of Bacon, bruited through the world, - Shall end and perish with this deep disgrace. - - _Bun._ Bacon hath built foundation of his fame - So surely on the wings of true report, - With acting strange and uncouth miracles, - As this cannot infringe what he deserves. - - _Bacon._ Bungay, sit down, for by prospective skill - I find this day shall fall out ominous: - Some deadly act shall 'tide me ere I sleep: - But what and wherein little can I guess, - My mind is heavy, whatso'er shall hap. - [_Knocking within._ - Who's that knocks? - - _Bun._ Two scholars that desire to speak with you. - - _Bacon._ Bid them come in.-- - - _Enter two_ Scholars. - - Now, my youths, what would you have? - - _First Schol._ Sir, we are Suffolkmen and neighbouring friends: - Our fathers in their countries lusty squires; - Their lands adjoin: in Cratfield mine doth dwell, - And his in Laxfield. We are college-mates, - Sworn brothers, as our fathers live as friends. - - _Bacon._ To what end is all this? - - _Second Schol._ Hearing your worship kept within your cell - A glass prospective, wherein men might see - Whatso their thoughts or hearts' desire could wish, - We come to know how that our fathers fare. - - _Bacon._ My glass is free for every honest man. - Sit down, and you shall see ere long, - How or in what state your friendly fathers live. - Meanwhile, tell me your names. - - _First Schol._ Mine Lambert. - - _Second Schol._ And mine Serlsby. - - _Bacon._ Bungay, I smell there will be a tragedy. - - _Enter_ LAMBERT _and_ SERLSBY, _with rapiers and daggers_.[228] - - _Lam._ Serlsby, thou hast kept thine hour like a man: - Thou'rt worthy of the title of a squire, - That durst, for proof of thy affection - And for thy mistress' favour, prize[229] thy blood. - Thou know'st what words did pass at Fressingfield, - Such shameless braves as manhood cannot brook: - Ay, for I scorn to bear such piercing taunts, - Prepare thee, Serlsby; one of us will die. - - _Serl._ Thou see'st I single [meet] thee [in] the field, - And what I spake, I'll maintain with my sword: - Stand on thy guard, I cannot scold it out. - And if thou kill me, think I have a son, - That lives in Oxford in the Broadgates-hall, - Who will revenge his father's blood with blood. - - _Lam._ And, Serlsby, I have there a lusty boy, - That dares at weapon buckle with thy son, - And lives in Broadgates too, as well as thine: - But draw thy rapier, for we'll have a bout. - - _Bacon._ Now, lusty younkers, look within the glass, - And tell me if you can discern your sires. - - _First Schol._ Serlsby, 'tis hard; thy father offers wrong, - To combat with my father in the field. - - _Second Schol._ Lambert, thou liest, my father's is th' abuse, - And thou shalt find it, if my father harm. - - _Bun._ How goes it, sirs? - - _First Schol._ Our fathers are in combat hard by Fressingfield. - - _Bacon._ Sit still, my friends, and see the event. - - _Lam._ Why stand'st thou, Serlsby? doubt'st thou of thy life? - A veney,[230] man! fair Margaret craves so much. - - _Serl._ Then this for her. - - _First Schol._ Ah, well thrust! - - _Second Schol._ But mark the ward. - [LAMBERT _and_ SERLSBY _fight and stab each other._ - - _Lam._ O, I am slain! [_Dies._ - - _Serl._ And I,--Lord have mercy on me! [_Dies._ - - _First Schol._ My father slain!--Serlsby, ward that. - - _Second Schol._ And so is mine!--Lambert, I'll quite thee well. - [_The two_ Scholars _stab each other and die._ - - _Bun._ O strange stratagem! - - _Bacon._ See, friar, where the fathers[231] both lie dead!-- - Bacon, thy magic doth effect this massacre: - This glass prospective worketh many woes; - And therefore seeing these brave lusty Brutes,[232] - These friendly youths, did perish by thine art, - End all thy magic and thine art at once. - The poniard that did end their fatal lives, - Shall break the cause efficient of their woes. - So fade the glass, and end with it the shows - That necromancy did infuse the crystal with. - [_Breaks the glass._ - - _Bun._ What means learn'd Bacon thus to break his glass? - - _Bacon._ I tell thee, Bungay, it repents me sore - That ever Bacon meddled in this art. - The hours I have spent in pyromantic spells, - The fearful tossing in the latest night - Of papers full of necromantic charms, - Conjuring and adjuring devils and fiends, - With stole and alb and strange pentageron; - The wresting of the holy name of God, - As Soter, Eloim, and Adonai, - Alpha, Manoth, and Tetragrammaton, - With praying to the five-fold powers of heaven, - Are instances that Bacon must be damn'd, - For using devils to countervail his God.-- - Yet, Bacon, cheer thee, drown not in despair: - Sins have their salves, repentance can do much: - Think Mercy sits where Justice holds her seat, - And from those wounds those bloody Jews did pierce, - Which by thy magic oft did bleed afresh, - From thence for thee the dew of mercy drops, - To wash the wrath of high Jehovah's ire, - And make thee as a new-born babe from sin.-- - Bungay, I'll spend the remnant of my life - In pure devotion, praying to my God - That he would save what Bacon vainly lost. - [_Exeunt._ - - - - -ACT THE FIFTH - - -SCENE I.--_A Meadow near the Keepers Lodge._ - - _Enter_ MARGARET _in nun's apparel, the_ Keeper, _and their_ Friend. - - _Keeper._ Margaret, be not so headstrong in these vows: - O, bury not such beauty in a cell, - That England hath held famous for the hue! - Thy father's hair, like to the silver blooms - That beautify the shrubs of Africa, - Shall fall before the dated time of death, - Thus to forgo his lovely Margaret. - - _Mar._ Ah, father, when the harmony of heaven - Soundeth the measures of a lively faith, - The vain illusions of this flattering world - Seem odious to the thoughts of Margaret. - I lovèd once,--Lord Lacy was my love; - And now I hate myself for that I lov'd, - And doted more on him than on my God: - For this I scourge myself with sharp repents. - But now the touch of such aspiring sins - Tells me all love is lust but love of heavens; - That beauty us'd for love is vanity: - The world contains naught but alluring baits, - Pride, flattery, and inconstant thoughts. - To shun the pricks of death, I leave the world, - And vow to meditate on heavenly bliss, - To live in Framlingham a holy nun, - Holy and pure in conscience and in deed; - And for to wish all maids to learn of me - To seek heaven's joy before earth's vanity. - -_Friend._ And will you then, Margaret, be shorn a nun, and so leave us -all? - - _Mar._ Now farewell, world, the engine of all woe! - Farewell to friends and father! welcome Christ! - Adieu to dainty robes! this base attire - Better befits an humble mind to God - Than all the show of rich habiliments. - Farewell, O love, and, with fond love, farewell - Sweet Lacy, whom I lovèd once so dear! - Ever be well, but never in my thoughts, - Lest I offend to think on Lacy's love: - But even to that, as to the rest, farewell! - - _Enter_ LACY, WARREN _and_ ERMSBY, _booted and spurred._ - - _Lacy._ Come on, my wags, we're near the Keeper's lodge. - Here have I oft walk'd in the watery meads, - And chatted with my lovely Margaret. - -_War._ Sirrah Ned, is not this the Keeper? - -_Lacy._ 'Tis the same. - -_Erms._ The old lecher hath gotten holy mutton[233] to him; a nun, my -lord. - - _Lacy._ Keeper, how far'st thou? holla, man, what cheer? - How doth Peggy, thy daughter and my love? - - _Keeper._ Ah, good my lord! O, woe is me for Peggy! - See where she stands clad in her nun's attire, - Ready for to be shorn in Framlingham: - She leaves the world because she left your love. - O, good my lord, persuade her if you can! - - _Lacy._ Why, how now, Margaret! what, a malcontent? - A nun? what holy father taught you this, - To task yourself to such a tedious life - As die a maid? 'twere injury to me - To smother up such beauty in a cell. - - _Mar._ Lord Lacy, thinking of my former miss, - How fond the prime of wanton years were spent - In love (O, fie upon that fond conceit, - Whose hap and essence hangeth in the eye!), - I leave both love and love's content at once, - Betaking me to him that is true love, - And leaving all the world for love of him. - - _Lacy._ Whence, Peggy, comes this metamorphosis? - What, shorn a nun, and I have from the court - Posted with coursers to convey thee hence - To Windsor, where our marriage shall be kept! - Thy wedding robes are in the tailor's hands. - Come, Peggy, leave these peremptory vows. - - _Mar._ Did not my lord resign his interest, - And make divorce 'twixt Margaret and him? - - _Lacy._ 'Twas but to try sweet Peggy's constancy. - But will fair Margaret leave her love and lord? - - _Mar._ Is not heaven's joy before earth's fading bliss, - And life above sweeter than life in love? - - _Lacy._ Why, then, Margaret will be shorn a nun? - - _Mar._ Margaret hath made a vow which may not be revok'd. - - _War._ We cannot stay, my lord; an if she be so strict, - Our leisure grants us not to woo afresh. - - _Erms._ Choose you, fair damsel,--yet the choice is yours,-- - Either a solemn nunnery or the court, - God or Lord Lacy: which contents you best, - To be a nun, or else Lord Lacy's wife? - - _Lacy._ A good motion.--Peggy, your answer must be short. - - _Mar._ The flesh is frail; my lord doth know it well, - That when he comes with his enchanting face, - Whate'er betide I cannot say him nay. - Off goes the habit of a maiden's heart, - And, seeing fortune will, fair Framlingham, - And all the show of holy nuns, farewell! - Lacy for me, if he will be my lord. - - _Lacy._ Peggy, thy lord, thy love, thy husband. - Trust me, by truth of knighthood, that the king - Stays for to marry matchless Elinor, - Until I bring thee richly to the court, - That one day may both marry her and thee.-- - How say'st thou, Keeper? art thou glad of this? - - _Keeper._ As if the English king had given - The park and deer of Fressingfield to me. - -_Erms._ I pray thee, my lord of Sussex, why art thou in a brown study? - -_War._ To see the nature of women; that be they never so near God, yet -they love to die in a man's arms. - - _Lacy._ What have you fit for breakfast? We have hied - And posted all this night to Fressingfield. - - _Mar._ Butter and cheese, and umbles of a deer, - Such as poor keepers have within their lodge. - - _Lacy._ And not a bottle of wine? - - _Mar._ We'll find one for my lord. - - _Lacy._ Come, Sussex, let us in: we shall have more, - For she speaks least, to hold her promise sure. - [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE II.--FRIAR BACON'S _Cell._ - - _Enter a_ Devil. - - _Dev._ How restless are the ghosts of hellish spirits, - When every charmer with his magic spells, - Calls us from nine-fold-trenchèd Phlegethon, - To scud and over-scour the earth in post - Upon the speedy wings of swiftest winds! - Now Bacon hath rais'd me from the darkest deep, - To search about the world for Miles his man, - For Miles, and to torment his lazy bones - For careless watching of his Brazen Head. - See where he comes: O, he is mine! - - _Enter_ MILES _in a gown and a corner-cap._ - -_Miles._ A scholar, quoth you! marry, sir, I would I had been made a -bottle-maker when I was made a scholar; for I can get neither to be a -deacon, reader, nor schoolmaster, no, not the clerk of a parish. Some -call me dunce; another saith, my head is as full of Latin as an egg's -full of oatmeal: thus I am tormented, that the devil and Friar Bacon -haunt me.--Good Lord, here's one of my master's devils! I'll go speak -to him.--What, Master Plutus, how cheer you? - -_Dev._ Dost thou know me? - -_Miles._ Know you, sir! why, are not you one of my master's devils, -that were wont to come to my master, Doctor Bacon, at Brazen-nose? - -_Dev._ Yes, marry, am I. - -_Miles._ Good Lord, Master Plutus, I have seen you a thousand times -at my master's, and yet I had never the manners to make you drink. -But, sir, I am glad to see how conformable you are to the statute.--I -warrant you, he's as yeomanly a man as you shall see: mark you, -masters, here's a plain, honest man, without welt or guard.[234]--But I -pray you, sir, do you come lately from hell? - -_Dev._ Ay, marry: how then? - -_Miles._ Faith, 'tis a place I have desired long to see: have you not -good tippling-houses there? may not a man have a lusty fire there, a -pot of good ale, a pair[235] of cards, a swinging piece of chalk, and a -brown toast that will clap a white waistcoat on a cup of good drink? - -_Dev._ All this you may have there. - -_Miles._ You are for me, friend, and I am for you. But I pray you, may -I not have an office there? - -_Dev._ Yes, a thousand: what would'st thou be? - -_Miles._ By my troth, sir, in a place where I may profit myself. I know -hell is a hot place, and men are marvellous dry, and much drink is -spent there; I would be a tapster. - -_Dev._ Thou shalt. - -_Miles._ There's nothing lets me from going with you, but that 'tis a -long journey, and I have never a horse. - -_Dev._ Thou shalt ride on my back. - -_Miles._ Now surely here's a courteous devil, that, for to pleasure -his friend, will not stick to make a jade of himself.--But I pray you, -goodman friend, let me move a question to you. - -_Dev._ What's that? - -_Miles._ I pray you, whether is your pace a trot or an amble? - -_Dev._ An amble. - -_Miles._ 'Tis well; but take heed it be not a trot: but 'tis no matter, -I'll prevent it. [_Puts on spurs._ - -_Dev._ What dost? - -_Miles._ Marry, friend, I put on my spurs; for if I find your pace -either a trot or else uneasy, I'll put you to a false gallop; I'll make -you feel the benefit of my spurs. - -_Dev._ Get up upon my back. [MILES _mounts on the_ Devil's _back._ - -_Miles._ O Lord, here's even a goodly marvel, when a man rides to hell -on the devil's back! [_Exeunt, the_ Devil _roaring._ - - -SCENE III.--_At Court._ - - _Enter the_ EMPEROR _with a pointless sword; next the_ KING OF CASTILE - _carrying a sword with a point;_ LACY _carrying the globe;_ WARREN - _carrying a rod of gold with a dove on it;_[236] ERMSBY _with a crown - and sceptre;_ PRINCESS ELINOR _with_ MARGARET, _Countess of Lincoln, - on her left hand;_ PRINCE EDWARD; KING HENRY; FRIAR BACON; _and_ Lords - _attending._ - - _P. Edw._ Great potentates, earth's miracles for state, - Think that Prince Edward humbles at your feet, - And, for these favours, on his martial sword - He vows perpetual homage to yourselves, - Yielding these honours unto Elinor. - - _K. Hen._ Gramercies, lordings; old Plantagenet, - That rules and sways the Albion diadem, - With tears discovers these conceivèd joys, - And vows requital, if his men-at-arms, - The wealth of England, or due honours done - To Elinor, may quite his favourites. - But all this while what say you to the dames - That shine like to the crystal lamps of heaven? - - _Emp._ If but a third were added to these two, - They did surpass those gorgeous images - That gloried Ida with rich beauty's wealth. - - _Mar._ 'Tis I, my lords, who humbly on my knee - Must yield her orisons to mighty Jove - For lifting up his handmaid to this state; - Brought from her homely cottage to the court, - And grac'd with kings, princes, and emperors, - To whom (next to the noble Lincoln Earl) - I vow obedience, and such humble love - As may a handmaid to such mighty men. - - _P. Elin._ Thou martial man that wears the Almain crown, - And you the western potentates of might, - The Albion princess, English Edward's wife, - Proud that the lovely star of Fressingfield, - Fair Margaret, Countess to the Lincoln Earl, - Attends on Elinor,--gramercies, lord, for her,-- - 'Tis I give thanks for Margaret to you all, - And rest for her due bounden to yourselves. - - _K. Hen._ Seeing the marriage is solémnizèd, - Let's march in triumph to the royal feast.-- - But why stands Friar Bacon here so mute? - - _Bacon._ Repentant for the follies of my youth, - That magic's secret mysteries misled, - And joyful that this royal marriage - Portends such bliss unto this matchless realm. - -_K. Hen._ Why, Bacon, what strange event shall happen to this land? -Or what shall grow from Edward and his Queen? - - _Bacon._ I find[237] by deep prescience of mine art, - Which once I temper'd in my secret cell, - That here where Brute did build his Troynovant, - From forth the royal garden of a king - Shall flourish out so rich and fair a bud, - Whose brightness shall deface proud Phœbus' flower, - And overshadow Albion with her leaves. - Till then Mars shall be master of the field, - But then the stormy threats of wars shall cease: - The horse shall stamp as careless of the pike, - Drums shall be turn'd to timbrels of delight; - With wealthy favours plenty shall enrich - The strand that gladded wandering Brute to see; - And peace from heaven shall harbour in these leaves, - That, gorgeous, beautify this matchless flower: - Apollo's heliotropion then shall stoop, - And Venus' hyacinth shall vail her top; - Juno shall shut her gilliflowers up, - And Pallas' bay shall 'bash her brightest green; - Ceres' carnation, in consort with those, - Shall stoop and wonder at Diana's rose. - - _K. Hen._ This prophecy is mystical.-- - But, glorious commanders of Europa's love, - That make fair England like that wealthy isle - Circled with Gihon and swift Eúphrates, - In royalizing Henry's Albion - With presence of your princely mightiness,-- - Let's march: the tables all are spread, - And viands, such as England's wealth affords, - Are ready set to furnish out the boards. - You shall have welcome, mighty potentates: - It rests to furnish up this royal feast, - Only your hearts be frolic; for the time - Craves that we taste of naught but jouissance. - Thus glories England over all the west. - [_Exeunt Omnes._ - - _Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci._ - - - - -JAMES THE FOURTH - - -Three of Greene's plays, _A Looking-Glass, Orlando Furioso_ and _Friar -Bacon_, are known to have been printed in 1594. Two plays, _James -IV._ and _Friar Bacon_, were entered on the Stationers' Registers on -the same day, 14th May 1594. It is altogether probable that the first -printing of _James IV._ occurred in the same year, though no trace of -such an edition has been found. The earliest extant Quarto is dated -1598, and was printed by Thomas Creede. Of this two copies are known, -one in the British Museum and one in the South Kensington Museum. -Lowndes records a reprint of 1599, but none such has been discovered. -The play is not mentioned by Henslowe, and there is no record of its -performance. The text of the Quarto of 1598 is in very poor state, -and shows indications that the play was either published from a stage -copy or that type was set by dictation. In V. 3, the King of England -is called Arius, though elsewhere he is given his own title. In II. -2 and III. 2, Ateukin is called Gnatho; in V. 2, Ateukin and Gnatho -appear together. This last duplication of Ateukin and his Terentian -prototype is held by Fleay to indicate another hand in the composition -of the play. Gnatho here, however, stands instead of Jaques. It should -be noticed that in the original story by Cinthio, the Capitano is -equivalent to both Ateukin and Jaques. The confusion probably arose -then from an uncertainty in Greene's mind as to names rather than from -double authorship. In the hasty first composition Greene probably -used the well-known dramatic type-name for "sycophant," and was later -careless in substituting the name of his choice. The plot of the play -is taken, as indicated by Mr P. A. Daniel in 1881, from the first novel -of the third decade of Cinthio's _Hecatommithi_. The play makes no -pretence to historical accuracy, and the title itself, in so far as -it refers to Flodden Field, is misleading. Nevertheless the play is -by some held to be "the finest Elizabethan historical play outside of -Shakespeare." By its acted prologue and interplay it served as a model -for Shakespeare's _Taming of the Shrew_ and _Midsummer Night's Dream_. - - - - -DRAMATIS PERSONÆ - - -KING OF ENGLAND. - -LORD PERCY. - -SAMLES. - -KING OF SCOTS. - -LORD DOUGLAS. - -LORD MORTON. - -LORD ROSS. - -BISHOP OF ST ANDREWS. - -LORD EUSTACE. - -SIR BARTRAM. - -SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON. - -ATEUKIN. - -JAQUES. - -A Lawyer. - -A Merchant. - -A Divine. - -SLIPPER, -NANO, a dwarf, -sons to BOHAN. - -ANDREW. - -Purveyor, Herald, Scout, Huntsmen, Soldiers, Revellers, etc. - -DOROTHEA, Queen of Scots. - -COUNTESS OF ARRAN. - -IDA, her daughter. - -LADY ANDERSON. - -Ladies, etc. - -OBERON, King of Fairies. - -BOHAN. - -Antics, Fairies, etc. - - - - -_JAMES THE FOURTH_[238] - - -THE INDUCTION. - - _Music playing within. Enter after_ OBERON, _King of Fairies, an_ - Antic,[239] _who dance about a tomb placed conveniently on the stage; - out of which suddenly starts up, as they dance,_ BOHAN, _a Scot, - attired like a ridstall_[240] _man, from whom the_ Antics _fly._ - OBERON _remains._ - -_Boh._ Ah say, what's thou? - -_Ober._ Thy friend, Bohan. - -_Boh._ What wot I or reck I that? whay, guid man, I reck no friend nor -ay reck no foe; als ene to me. Git thee ganging, and trouble not may -whayet,[241] or ays gar[242] thee recon me nene of thay friend, by the -Mary mass, sall I! - -_Ober._ Why, angry Scot, I visit thee for love; then what moves thee to -wrath? - -_Boh._ The de'il a whit reck I thy love; for I know too well that true -love took her flight twenty winter sence to heaven, whither till ay -can, weel I wot, ay sal ne'er find love: an thou lovest me, leave me to -myself. But what were those puppets that hopped and skipped about me -year whayle?[243] - -_Ober._ My subjects. - -_Boh._ Thay subjects! whay, art thou a king? - -_Ober._ I am. - -_Boh._ The de'il thou art! whay, thou lookest not so big as the King -of Clubs, nor so sharp as the King of Spades, nor so fain as the King -a Daymonds: be the mass, ay take thee to be the king of false hearts; -therefore I rid[244] thee away, or ayse so curry your kingdom that -you's be glad to run to save your life. - -_Ober._ Why, stoical Scot, do what thou darest to me: here is my -breast, strike. - -_Boh._ Thou wilt not threap[245] me, this whinyard[246] has gard many -better men to lope then thou! [_Tries to draw his sword._] But how now! -Gos sayds, what, will't not out? Whay, thou witch, thou de'il! Gad's -fute, may whinyard! - -_Ober._ Why, pull, man: but what an 'twere out, how then? - -_Boh._ This, then,--thou weart best be gone first; for ay'l so lop thy -limbs that thou's go with half a knave's carcass to the de'il. - -_Ober._ Draw it out: now strike, fool, canst thou not? - -_Boh._ Bread ay gad, what de'il is in me? Whay, tell me, thou skipjack, -what art thou? - -_Ober._ Nay, first tell me what thou wast from thy birth, what thou -hast passed hitherto, why thou dwellest in a tomb and leavest the -world; and then I will release thee of these bonds; before, not. - -_Boh._ And not before! then needs must, needs sall. I was born a -gentleman of the best blood in all Scotland, except the king. When time -brought me to age, and death took my parents, I became a courtier; -where, though ay list not praise myself, ay engraved the memory of -Bohan on the skin-coat of some of them, and revelled with the proudest. - -_Ober._ But why, living in such reputation, didst thou leave to be a -courtier? - -_Boh._ Because my pride was vanity, my expense loss, my reward fair -words and large promises, and my hopes spilt; for that after many -years' service one outran me; and what the de'il should I then do -there? No, no; flattering knaves, that can cog and prate fastest, speed -best in the court. - -_Ober._ To what life didst thou then betake thee? - -_Boh._ I then changed the court for the country, and the wars for a -wife: but I found the craft of swains more vile than the knavery of -courtiers, the charge of children more heavy than servants, and wives' -tongues worse than the wars itself; and therefore I gave o'er that, and -went to the city to dwell; and there I kept a great house with small -cheer, but all was ne'er the near.[247] - -_Ober._ And why? - -_Boh._ Because, in seeking friends, I found table-guests to eat me and -my meat, my wife's gossips to bewray the secrets of my heart, kindred -to betray the effect of my life: which when I noted,--the court ill, -the country worse, and the city worst of all,--in good time my wife -died, ay would she had died twenty winter sooner, by the mass! leaving -my two sons[248] to the world, and shutting myself into this tomb, -where, if I die, I am sure I am safe from wild beasts, but, whilst I -live, cannot be free from ill company. Besides, now I am sure, gif all -my friends fail me, I sall have a grave of mine own providing. This is -all. Now, what art thou? - -_Ober._ Oberon, King of Fairies, that loves thee because thou hatest -the world; and, to gratulate thee, I brought these antics to show thee -some sport in dancing, which thou hast loved well. - -_Boh._ Ha, ha, ha! thinkest thou those puppets can please me? whay, I -have two sons, that with one Scottish jig shall break the necks of thy -antics. - -_Ober._ That I would fain see. - -_Boh._ Why, thou shalt.--Ho, boys! - - _Enter_ SLIPPER _and_ NANO. - -Haud your clacks,[249] lads; trattle not for thy life, but gather up -your legs, and dance me forthwith a jig worth the sight. - -_Slip._ Why, I must talk, an I die for't: wherefore was my tongue made? - -_Boh._ Prattle, an thou darest, one word more, and ais dab this -whinyard in thy wemb. - -_Ober._ Be quiet, Bohan. I'll strike him dumb, and his brother too; -their talk shall not hinder our jig.--Fall to it; dance, I say, man! - -_Boh._ Dance, Humer, dance, ay rid thee. -[_The two dance a jig devised for the nonst._ -Now get you to the wide world with more than my father gave me; that's -learning enough both kinds, knavery and honesty; and that I gave you, -spend at pleasure. - -_Ober._ Nay, for their sport I will give them this gift: to the dwarf -I give a quick wit, pretty of body, and awarrant his preferment to a -prince's service, where by his wisdom he shall gain more love than -common; and to loggerhead your son I give a wandering life, and promise -he shall never lack, and avow that, if in all distresses he call upon -me, to help him. Now let them go. [_Exeunt_ SLIPPER _and_ NANO _with -courtesies._ - -_Boh._ Now, king, if thou be a king, I will show thee whay I hate the -world by demonstration. In the year fifteen hundred and twenty, was -in Scotland a king, over-ruled with parasites, misled by lust, and -many circumstances too long to trattle on now, much like our court of -Scotland this day. That story have I set down. Gang with me to the -gallery, and I'll show thee the same in action by guid fellows of our -country-men; and then, when thou see'st that, judge if any wise man -would not leave the world if he could. - -_Ober._ That will I see: lead, and I'll follow thee. [_Exeunt._ - - _Laus Deo detur in æternum._ - - - - -ACT THE FIRST - - -SCENE I.--_The Court at Edinburgh._ - - _Enter the_ KING OF ENGLAND, _the_ KING OF SCOTS, QUEEN DOROTHEA, - _the_ COUNTESS OF ARRAN, IDA, _and_ Lords; _with them_ ATEUKIN, - _aloof._ - - _K. of Scots._ Brother of England, since our neighbouring lands - And near alliance do invite our loves, - The more I think upon our last accord, - The more I grieve your sudden parting hence. - First, laws of friendship did confirm our peace; - Now both the seal of faith and marriage-bed, - The name of father, and the style of friend; - These force in me affection full confirm'd; - So that I grieve--and this my hearty grief - The heavens record, the world may witness well-- - To lose your presence, who are now to me - A father, brother, and a vowèd friend. - - _K. of Eng._ Link all these lovely styles, good king, in one: - And since thy grief exceeds in my depart, - I leave my Dorothea to enjoy - Thy whole compact [of] loves and plighted vows. - Brother of Scotland, this is my joy, my life, - Her father's honour, and her country's hope, - Her mother's comfort, and her husband's bliss: - I tell thee, king, in loving of my Doll, - Thou bind'st her father's heart, and all his friends, - In bands of love that death cannot dissolve. - - _K. of Scots._ Nor can her father love her like to me, - My life's light, and the comfort of my soul.-- - Fair Dorothea, that wast England's pride, - Welcome to Scotland; and, in sign of love, - Lo, I invest thee with the Scottish crown.-- - Nobles and ladies, stoop unto your queen, - And trumpets sound, that heralds may proclaim - Fair Dorothea peerless Queen of Scots. - - _All._ Long live and prosper our fair Queen of Scots! - [_They install and crown her._ - - _Q. Dor._ Thanks to the King of Kings for my dignity, - Thanks to my father, that provides so carefully; - Thanks to my lord and husband for this honour; - And thanks to all that love their king and me. - - _All._ Long live fair Dorothea, our true queen! - - _K. of Eng._ Long shine the sun of Scotland in her pride, - Her father's comfort, and fair Scotland's bride! - But, Dorothea, since I must depart, - And leave thee from thy tender mother's charge, - Let me advise my lovely daughter first - What best befits her in a foreign land. - Live, Doll, for many eyes shall look on thee - With care of honour and the present state; - For she that steps to height of majesty - Is even the mark whereat the enemy aims: - Thy virtues shall be construèd to vice, - Thine affable discourse to abject mind; - If coy, detracting tongues will call thee proud: - Be therefore wary in this slippery state; - Honour thy husband, love him as thy life, - Make choice of friends--as eagles of their young-- - Who soothe no vice, who flatter not for gain, - But love such friends as do the truth maintain. - Think on these lessons when thou art alone, - And thou shalt live in health when I am gone. - - _Q. Dor._ I will engrave these precepts in my heart: - And as the wind with calmness wooes you hence, - Even so I wish the heavens, in all mishaps, - May bless my father with continual grace. - - _K. of Eng._ Then, son, farewell: - The favouring winds invite us to depart. - Long circumstance in taking princely leaves - Is more officious than convenient. - Brother of Scotland, love me in my child: - You greet me well, if so you will her good. - - _K. of Scots._ Then, lovely Doll, and all that favour me, - Attend to see our English friends at sea: - Let all their charge depend upon my purse: - They are our neighbours, by whose kind accord - We dare attempt the proudest potentate. - Only, fair countess, and your daughter, stay; - With you I have some other thing to say. - [_Exeunt, in all royalty, the_ KING OF ENGLAND, QUEEN DOROTHEA - _and_ Lords. - [_Aside_]. So let them triumph that have cause to joy: - But, wretched king, thy nuptial knot is death, - Thy bride the breeder of thy country's ill; - For thy false heart dissenting from thy hand, - Misled by love, hath made another choice,-- - Another choice, even when thou vow'd'st thy soul - To Dorothea, England's choicest pride. - O, then thy wandering eyes bewitch'd thy heart! - Even in the chapel did thy fancy change, - When, perjur'd man, though fair Doll had thy hand, - The Scottish Ida's beauty stale thy heart: - Yet fear and love have tied thy ready tongue - From babbling forth the passions of thy mind, - 'Less fearful silence have in subtle looks - Bewray'd the treason of my new-vow'd love. - Be fair and lovely, Doll; but here's the prize, - That lodgeth here, and enter'd through mine eyes: - Yet, howso'er I love, I must be wise.-- - Now, lovely countess, what reward or grace - May I employ on you for this your zeal, - And humble honours, done us in our court, - In entertainment of the English king? - - _Count. of A._ It was of duty, prince, that I have done; - And what in favour may content me most, - Is, that it please your grace to give me leave - For to return unto my country-home. - - _K. of Scots._ But, lovely Ida, is your mind the same? - - _Ida._ I count of court, my lord, as wise men do, - 'Tis fit for those that know what 'longs thereto: - Each person to his place; the wise to art, - The cobbler to his clout, the swain to cart. - - _K. of Scots._ But, Ida, you are fair, and beauty shines, - And seemeth best, where pomp her pride refines. - - _Ida._ If beauty, as I know there's none in me, - Were sworn my love, and I his life should be, - The farther from the court I were remov'd, - The more, I think, of heaven I were belov'd. - - _K. of Scots._ And why? - - _Ida._ Because the court is counted Venus' net, - Where gifts and vows for stales[250] are often set: - None, be she chaste as Vesta, but shall meet - A curious tongue to charm her ears with sweet. - - _K. of Scots._ Why, Ida, then I see you set at naught - The force of love. - - _Ida._ In sooth, this is my thought, - Most gracious king,--that they that little prove, - Are mickle blest, from bitter sweets of love. - And weel I wot, I heard a shepherd sing, - That, like a bee, love hath a little sting: - He lurks in flowers, he percheth on the trees, - He on kings' pillows bends his pretty knees; - The boy is blind, but when he will not spy, - He hath a leaden foot and wings to fly: - Beshrew me yet, for all these strange effects, - If I would like the lad that so infects. - - _K. of Scots._ [_aside_]. - Rare wit, fair face, what heart could more desire? - But Doll is fair and doth concern thee near: - Let Doll be fair, she is won; but I must woo - And win fair Ida; there's some choice in two.-- - But, Ida, thou art coy. - - _Ida._ And why, dread king? - - _K. of Scots._ In that you will dispraise so sweet a thing - As love. Had I my wish-- - - _Ida._ What then? - - _K. of Scots._ Then would I place - His arrow here, his beauty in that face. - - _Ida._ And were Apollo mov'd and rul'd by me, - His wisdom should be yours, and mine his tree. - - _K. of Scots._ But here returns our train. - - _Re-enter_ QUEEN DOROTHEA _and_ Lords. - - Welcome, fair Doll! - How fares our father? is he shipp'd and gone? - - _Q. Dor._ My royal father is both shipp'd and gone: - God and fair winds direct him to his home! - - _K. of Scots._ Amen, say I.--[_Aside_]. Would thou wert with him too! - Then might I have a fitter time to woo.-- - But, countess, you would be gone, therefore, farewell,-- - Yet, Ida, if thou wilt, stay thou behind - To accompany my queen: - But if thou like the pleasures of the court,-- - [_Aside_]. Or if she lik'd me, though she left the court,-- - What should I say? I know not what to say.-- - You may depart:--and you, my courteous queen, - Leave me a space; I have a weighty cause - To think upon:--[_Aside_]. Ida, it nips me near; - It came from thence, I feel it burning here. - [_Exeunt all except the_ KING OF SCOTS _and_ ATEUKIN. - Now am I free from sight of common eye, - Where to myself I may disclose the grief - That hath too great a part in mine affects. - - _Ateu._ [_aside_]. And now is my time by wiles and words to rise, - Greater than those that think themselves more wise. - - _K. of Scots._ And first, fond king, thy honour doth engrave - Upon thy brows the drift of thy disgrace. - Thy new-vow'd love, in sight of God and men, - Links thee to Dorothea during life; - For who more fair and virtuous than thy wife? - Deceitful murderer of a quiet mind, - Fond love, vile lust, that thus misleads us men - To vow our faiths, and fall to sin again! - But kings stoop not to every common thought: - Ida is fair and wise, fit for a king; - And for fair Ida will I hazard life, - Venture my kingdom, country, and my crown: - Such fire hath love to burn a kingdom down. - Say Doll dislikes that I estrange my love: - Am I obedient to a woman's look? - Nay, say her father frown when he shall hear - That I do hold fair Ida's love so dear: - Let father frown and fret, and fret and die, - Nor earth nor heaven shall part my love and I.-- - Yea, they shall part us, but we first must meet, - And woo and win, and yet the world not see't.-- - Yea, there's the wound, and wounded with that thought, - So let me die, for all my drift is naught! - - _Ateu._ [_coming forward_]. Most gracious and imperial majesty,-- - [_Aside_]. A little flattery more were but too much. - - _K. of Scots._ Villain, what art thou - That thus dar'st interrupt a prince's secrets? - - _Ateu._ Dread king, thy vassal is a man of art, - Who knows, by constellation of the stars, - By oppositions and by dire aspécts, - The things are past and those that are to come. - - _K. of Scots._ But where's thy warrant to approach my presence? - - _Ateu._ My zeal, and ruth to see your grace's wrong, - Make me lament I did detract[251] so long. - - _K. of Scots._ If thou know'st thoughts, tell me, what mean I now? - - _Ateu._ I'll calculate the cause - Of those your highness' smiles, and tell your thoughts. - - _K. of Scots._ But lest thou spend thy time in idleness, - And miss the matter that my mind aims at, - Tell me: what star was opposite when that was thought? - [_Strikes him on the ear._ - - _Ateu._ 'Tis inconvenient, mighty potentate, - Whose looks resemble Jove in majesty, - To scorn the sooth of science with contempt. - I see in those imperial looks of yours - The whole discourse of love: Saturn combust, - With direful looks, at your nativity - Beheld fair Venus in her silver orb: - I know, by certain axioms I have read, - Your grace's griefs, and further can express - Her name that holds you thus in fancy's bands. - - _K. of Scots._ Thou talkest wonders. - - _Ateu._ Naught but truth, O king. - 'Tis Ida is the mistress of your heart, - Whose youth must take impression of affects; - For tender twigs will bow, and milder minds - Will yield to fancy, be they follow'd well. - - _K. of Scots._ What god art thou, compos'd in human shape, - Or bold Trophonius, to decide our doubts? - How know'st thou this? - - _Ateu._ Even as I know the means - To work your grace's freedom and your love. - Had I the mind, as many courtiers have, - To creep into your bosom for your coin, - And beg rewards for every cap and knee, - I then would say, "If that your grace would give - This lease, this manor, or this patent seal'd, - For this or that I would effect your love:" - But Ateukin is no parasite, O prince. - I know your grace knows scholars are but poor; - And therefore, as I blush to beg a fee, - Your mightiness is so magnificent, - You cannot choose but cast some gift apart, - To ease my bashful need that cannot beg. - As for your love, O, might I be employ'd, - How faithfully would Ateukin compass it! - But princes rather trust a smoothing tongue - Than men of art that can accept the time. - - _K. of Scots._ Ateukin,--if so thy name, for so thou say'st,-- - Thine art appears in entrance of my love; - And, since I deem thy wisdom match'd with truth, - I will exalt thee; and thyself alone - Shalt be the agent to dissolve my grief. - Sooth is, I love, and Ida is my love; - But my new marriage nips me near, Ateukin, - For Dorothea may not brook th' abuse. - - _Ateu._ These lets are but as motes against the sun, - Yet not so great; like dust before the wind, - Yet not so light. Tut, pacify your grace: - You have the sword and sceptre in your hand; - You are the king, the state depends on you; - Your will is law. Say that the case were mine: - Were she my sister whom your highness loves, - She should consent, for that our lives, our goods, - Depend on you; and if your queen repine, - Although my nature cannot brook of blood, - And scholars grieve to hear of murderous deeds,-- - But if the lamb should let the lion's way, - By my advice the lamb should lose her life. - Thus am I bold to speak unto your grace, - Who am too base to kiss your royal feet; - For I am poor, nor have I land nor rent, - Nor countenance here in court; but for my love, - Your grace shall find none such within the realm. - - _K. of Scots._ Wilt thou effect my love? shall she be mine? - - _Ateu._ I'll gather moly, crocus, and the herbs - That heal the wounds of body and the mind; - I'll set out charms and spells; naught else shall be left - To tame the wanton if she shall rebel: - Give me but tokens of your highness' trust. - - _K. of Scots._ Thou shalt have gold, honour, and wealth enough; - Win my love, and I will make thee great. - - _Ateu._ These words do make me rich, most noble prince; - I am more proud of them than any wealth. - Did not your grace suppose I flatter you, - Believe me, I would boldly publish this;-- - Was never eye that saw a sweeter face, - Nor never ear that heard a deeper wit: - O God, how I am ravish'd in your worth! - - _K. of Scots._ Ateukin, follow me; love must have ease. - - _Ateu._ I'll kiss your highness' feet; march when you please. - [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE II.--_Public Place in Edinburgh._ - - _Enter_ SLIPPER, NANO, _and_ ANDREW, _with their bills, ready written, - in their hands._ - -_And._ Stand back, sir; mine shall stand highest. - -_Slip._ Come under mine arm, sir, or get a footstool; or else, by the -light of the moon, I must come to it. - -_Nano._ Agree, my masters; every man to his height: though I stand -lowest, I hope to get the best master. - -_And._ Ere I will stoop to a thistle, I will change turns; as good luck -comes on the right hand as the left: here's for me. - -_Slip._ And me. - -_Nano._ And mine. [_They set up their bills._ - -_And._ But tell me, fellows, till better occasion come, do you seek -masters? - -_Slip. Nano._ We do. - -_And._ But what can you do worthy preferment? - -_Nano._ Marry, I can smell a knave from a rat. - -_Slip._ And I can lick a dish before a cat. - -_And._ And I can find two fools unsought,--how like you that? - -But, in earnest now, tell me: of what trades are you two? - -_Slip._ How mean you that, sir, of what trade? Marry, I'll tell you, -I have many trades: the honest trade when I needs must; the filching -trade when time serves; the cozening trade as I find occasion. And I -have more qualities: I cannot abide a full cup unkissed, a fat capon -uncarved, a full purse unpicked, nor a fool to prove a justice as you -do. - -_And._ Why, sot, why callest thou me fool? - -_Nano._ For examining wiser than thyself. - -_And._ So doth many more than I in Scotland. - -_Nano._ Yea, those are such as have more authority than wit, and more -wealth than honesty. - -_Slip._ This is my little brother with the great wit; 'ware him!--But -what canst thou do, tell me, that art so inquisitive of us? - -_And._ Anything that concerns a gentleman to do, that can I do. - -_Slip._ So you are of the gentle trade? - -_And._ True. - -_Slip._ Then, gentle sir, leave us to ourselves, for here comes one as -if he would lack a servant ere he went. [ANDREW _stands aside._ - - _Enter_ ATEUKIN. - - _Ateu._ Why, so, Ateukin, this becomes thee best: - Wealth, honour, ease, and angels in thy chest. - Now may I say, as many often sing, - "No fishing to[252] the sea, nor service to a king." - Unto this high promotion doth belong - Means to be talk'd of in the thickest throng. - And first, to fit the humours of my lord, - Sweet lays and lines of love I must record; - And such sweet lines and love-lays I'll indite, - As men may wish for, and my liege delight: - And next, a train of gallants at my heels, - That men may say, the world doth run on wheels; - For men of art, that rise by indirection - To honour and the favour of their king, - Must use all means to save what they have got, - And win their favours whom they never knew. - If any frown to see my fortunes such, - A man must bear a little,--not too much! - But, in good time!--these bills portend, I think, - That some good fellows do for service seek. [_Reads._ -_If any gentleman, spiritual or temporal, will entertain out of his -service, a young stripling of the age of thirty years, that can sleep -with the soundest, eat with the hungriest, work with the sickest, lie -with the loudest, face with the proudest, etc., that can wait in a -gentleman's chamber when his master is a mile off, keep his stable when -'tis empty, and his purse when 'tis full, and hath many qualities worse -than all these, let him write his name and go his way, and attendance -shall be given._ -By my faith, a good servant: which is he? - -_Slip._ Truly, sir, that am I. - -_Ateu._ And why dost thou write such a bill? Are all these qualities in -thee? - -_Slip._ O Lord, ay, sir, and a great many more, some better, some -worse, some richer, some poorer. Why, sir, do you look so? do they not -please you? - -_Ateu._ Truly, no, for they are naught, and so art thou: if thou hast -no better qualities, stand by. - -_Slip._ O, sir, I tell the worst first; but, an you lack a man, I am -for you: I'll tell you the best qualities I have. - -_Ateu._ Be brief, then. - -_Slip._ If you need me in your chamber, I can keep the door at a -whistle; in your kitchen, turn the spit, and lick the pan, and make the -fire burn; but if in the stable,-- - -_Ateu._ Yea, there would I use thee. - -_Slip._ Why, there you kill me, there am I! and turn me to a horse and -a wench, and I have no peer. - -_Ateu._ Art thou so good in keeping a horse? I pray thee, tell me how -many good qualities hath a horse. - -_Slip._ Why, so, sir: a horse hath two properties of a man, that is, a -proud heart, and a hardy stomach; four properties of a lion, a broad -breast, a stiff docket,--hold your nose, master,--a wild countenance, -and four good legs; nine properties of a fox, nine of a hare, nine of -an ass, and ten of a woman. - -_Ateu._ A woman! why, what properties of a woman hath a horse? - -_Slip._ O, master, know you not that? Draw your tables,[253] and write -what wise I speak. First, a merry countenance; second, a soft pace; -third, a broad forehead; fourth, broad buttocks; fifth, hard of ward; -sixth, easy to leap upon; seventh, good at long journey; eighth, moving -under a man; ninth, always busy with the mouth; tenth, ever chewing on -the bridle. - -_Ateu._ Thou art a man for me: what's thy name? - -_Slip._ An ancient name, sir, belonging to the chamber and the -night-gown: guess you that. - -_Ateu._ What's that? Slipper? - -_Slip._ By my faith, well guessed; and so 'tis indeed. You'll be my -master? - -_Ateu._ I mean so. - -_Slip._ Read this first. - -_Ateu._ [_reads_]. _Pleaseth it any gentleman to entertain a servant -of more wit than stature, let them subscribe, and attendance shall be -given._ -What of this? - -_Slip._ He is my brother, sir; and we two were born together, must -serve together, and will die together, though we be both hanged. - -_Ateu._ What's thy name? - -_Nano._ Nano. - -_Ateu._ The etymology of which word is "a dwarf." Are not thou the old -stoic's son that dwells in his tomb? - -_Slip. Nano._ We are. - -_Ateu._ Thou art welcome to me. Wilt thou give thyself wholly to be at -my disposition? - -_Nano._ In all humility I submit myself. - -_Ateu._ Then will I deck thee princely, instruct thee courtly, and -present thee to the queen as my gift. Art thou content? - -_Nano._ Yes, and thank your honour too. - -_Slip._ Then welcome, brother, and follow now. - -_And._ [_coming forward_]. May it please your honour to abase your eye -so low as to look either on my bill or myself? - -_Ateu._ What are you? - -_And._ By birth a gentleman; in profession a scholar; and one that knew -your honour in Edinburgh, before your worthiness called you to this -reputation: by me, Andrew Snoord. - -_Ateu._ Andrew, I remember thee; follow me, and we will confer -further; for my weighty affairs for the king command me to be brief at -this time.--Come on, Nano.--Slipper, follow. [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE III.--SIR BARTRAM'S _Castle._ - - _Enter_ SIR BARTRAM, _with_ EUSTACE, _and others, booted._ - - _Sir Bar._ But tell me, lovely Eustace, as thou lov'st me, - Among the many pleasures we have pass'd, - Which is the rifest in thy memory, - To draw thee over to thine ancient friend? - - _Eust._ What makes Sir Bartram thus inquisitive? - Tell me, good knight, am I welcome or no? - - _Sir Bar._ By sweet Saint Andrew and may sale[254] I swear, - As welcome is my honest Dick to me - As morning's sun, or as the watery moon - In merkest night, when we the borders track. - I tell thee, Dick, thy sight hath clear'd my thoughts - Of many baneful troubles that there woon'd:[255] - Welcome to Sir Bartram as his life! - Tell me, bonny Dick: hast got a wife? - - _Eust._ A wife! God shield, Sir Bartram, that were ill, - To leave my wife and wander thus astray: - But time and good advice, ere many years, - May chance to make my fancy bend that way. - What news in Scotland? therefore came I hither, - To see your country and to chat together. - - _Sir Bar._ Why, man, our country's blithe, our king is well, - Our queen so-so, the nobles well and worse, - And weel are they that are about the king, - But better are the country gentlemen: - And I may tell thee, Eustace, in our lives - We old men never saw so wondrous change. - But leave this trattle, and tell me what news - In lovely England with our honest friends. - - _Eust._ The king, the court, and all our noble friends - Are well; and God in mercy keep them so! - The northern lords and ladies hereabouts, - That know I came to see your queen and court, - Commend them to my honest friend Sir Bartram,-- - And many others that I have not seen. - Among the rest, the Countess Elinor, - From Carlisle, where we merry oft have been, - Greets well my lord, and hath directed me, - By message, this fair lady's face to see. - [_Shows a portrait._ - - _Sir Bar._ I tell thee, Eustace, 'less mine old eyes daze, - This is our Scottish moon and evening's pride; - This is the blemish of your English bride. - Who sail by her, are sure of wind at will; - Her face is dangerous, her sight is ill: - And yet, in sooth, sweet Dick, it may be said, - The king hath folly, there's virtue in the maid. - - _Eust._ But knows my friend this portrait? be advis'd. - - _Sir Bar._ Is it not Ida, the Countess of Arran's daughter's? - - _Eust._ So was I told by Elinor of Carlisle: - But tell me, lovely Bartram: is the maid - Evil-inclin'd, misled, or concubine - Unto the king or any other lord? - - _Sir Bar._ Should I be brief and true, than thus, my Dick: - All England's grounds yield not a blither lass, - Nor Europe can surpass her for her gifts - Of virtue, honour, beauty, and the rest: - But our fond king, not knowing sin in lust, - Makes love by endless means and precious gifts; - And men that see it dare not say't, my friend, - But we may wish that it were otherwise. - But I rid thee to view the picture still, - For by the person's sight there hangs some ill. - - _Eust._ O, good Sir Bartram, you suspect I love - (Then were I mad) her whom I never saw. - But, howsoe'er, I fear not enticings: - Desire will give no place unto a king: - I'll see her whom the world admires so much, - That I may say with them, "There lives none such." - - _Sir Bar._ Be Gad, and sall both see and talk with her; - And, when thou'st done, whate'er her beauty be, - I'll warrant thee her virtues may compare - With the proudest she that waits upon your queen. - - _Enter_ Servant. - - _Serv._ My lady entreats your worship in to supper. - - _Sir Bar._ Guid, bonny Dick, my wife will tell thee more: - Was never no man in her book before; - Be Gad, she's blithe, fair, lewely,[256] bonny, etc.[257] - [_Exeunt._ - - - CHORUS[258] - - _Enter_ BOHAN _and_ OBERON; _to them a round of_ Fairies, _or some - pretty dance._ - - _Boh._ Be Gad, gramercies, little king, for this; - This sport is better in my exile life - Than ever the deceitful werld could yield. - - _Ober._ I tell thee, Bohan, Oberon is king - Of quiet, pleasure, profit, and content, - Of wealth, of honour, and of all the world; - Tied to no place,--yet all are tied to one. - Live thou this life, exil'd from world and men, - And I will show thee wonders ere we part. - - _Boh._ Then mark my story, and the strange doubts - That follow flatterers, lust, and lawless will, - And then say I have reason to forsake - The world and all that are within the same. - Go shroud us in our harbour, where we'll see - The pride of folly, as it ought to be. [_Exeunt._ - -_After the first Act._ - -1. - - _Ober._ Here see I good fond actions in thy jig - And means to paint the world's inconstant ways: - But turn thine ene, see what I can command. - - _Enter two battles, strongly fighting, the one led by_ SEMIRAMIS, _the - other by_ STABROBATES: _she flies, and her crown is taken, and she - hurt._ - - _Boh._ What gars this din of mirk and baleful harm, - Where every wean is all betaint with blood? - - _Ober._ This shows thee, Bohan, what is worldly pomp: - Semiramis, the proud Assyrian queen, - When Ninus died, did levy in her wars - Three millions of footmen to the fight, - Five hundred thousand horse, of armèd cars - A hundred thousand more; yet in her pride - Was hurt and conquered by Stabrobates. - Then what is pomp? - - _Boh._ I see thou art thine ene, - Thou bonny king, if princes fall from high: - My fall is past, until I fall to die. - Now mark my talk, and prosecute my jig. - - -2. - -_Ober._ How should these crafts withdraw thee from the world? -But look, my Bohan, pomp allureth. - - _Enter_ CYRUS, _Kings humbling themselves; himself crowned by - Olive Pat_[259]: _at last dying, laid in a marble tomb with this - inscription:_ - - "Whoso thou be that passest [by],-- - For I know one shall pass,--know I - Am Cyrus of Persia, and I pray - Leave me not thus like a clod of clay - Wherewith my body is coverèd." [_All exeunt._ - - _Enter the_ King _in great pomp, who reads it, and issueth, crying,_ - "Ver meum." - -_Boh._ What meaneth this? - - _Ober._ Cyrus of Persia, - Mighty in life, within a marble grave - Was laid to rot; whom Alexander once - Beheld entomb'd, and weeping did confess, - Nothing in life could 'scape from wretchedness: - Why, then, boast men? - - _Boh._ What reck I, then, of life, - Who make the grave my home, the earth my wife? - But mark me more. - - -3. - -_Boh._ I can no more; my patience will not warp -To see these flatterers how they scorn and carp. - -_Ober._ Turn but thy head. - - _Enter four_ Kings _carrying crowns_, Ladies _presenting odours to_ - Potentate _enthroned, who suddenly is slain by his_ Servants _and - thrust out; and so they eat._ [_Exeunt._ - -_Boh._ Sike is the werld; but whilk is he I saw? - -_Ober._ Sesostris, who was conqueror of the world, -Slain at the last and stamp'd on by his slaves. - -_Boh._ How blest are peur men, then, that know their graves! -Now mark the sequel of my jig. - - -(4.)[260] - - _Boh._ An he weel meet ends. The mirk and sable night - Doth leave the peering morn to pry abroad; - Thou nill me stay: hail, then, thou pride of kings! - I ken the world, and wot well worldly things. - Mark thou my jig, in mirkest terms that tells - The loath of sins and where corruption dwells. - Hail me ne mere with shows of guidly sights; - My grave is mine,--that rids me from despites. - - -(5.) - - _Boh._ Accept my jig, guid king, and let me rest; - The grave with guid men is a gay-built nest. - - _Ober._ The rising sun doth call me hence away; - Thanks for thy jig, I may no longer stay: - But if my train did wake thee from thy rest - So shall they sing thy lullaby to nest. [_Exeunt._ - - - - -ACT THE SECOND - - -SCENE I.--_Porch to the Castle of the_ COUNTESS OF ARRAN. - - _The_ COUNTESS OF ARRAN _and_ IDA _discovered sitting at work._ - - _A Song._[261] - -_Count. of A._ Fair Ida, might you choose the greatest good, -'Midst all the world in blessings that abound, -Wherein, my daughter, should your liking be? - -_Ida._ Not in delights, or pomp, or majesty. - -_Count. of A._ And why? - -_Ida._ Since these are means to draw the mind -From perfect good, and make true judgment blind. - -_Count. of A._ Might you have wealth and fortune's richest store? - - _Ida._ Yet would I, might I choose, be honest-poor; - For she that sits at fortune's feet a-low - Is sure she shall not taste a further woe; - But those that prank on top of fortune's ball - Still fear a change, and, fearing, catch a fall. - -_Count. of A._ Tut, foolish maid, each one contemneth need. - -_Ida._ Good reason why, they know not good indeed. - -_Count. of A._ Many, marry, then, on whom distress doth lour. - - _Ida._ Yes, they that virtue deem an honest dower. - Madam, by right this world I may compare - Unto my work, wherein with heedful care - The heavenly workman plants with curious hand-- - As I with needle draw--each thing on land - Even as he list: some men like to the rose - Are fashion'd fresh; some in their stalks do close, - And, born, do sudden die; some are but weeds, - And yet from them a secret good proceeds: - I with my needle, if I please, may blot - The fairest rose within my cambric plot; - God with a beck can change each worldly thing, - The poor to earth, the beggar to the king. - What, then, hath man wherein he well may boast, - Since by a beck he lives, a lour[262] is lost? - -_Count. of A._ Peace, Ida, here are strangers near at hand. - - _Enter_ EUSTACE _with letters._ - -_Eust._ Madam, God speed! - -_Count. of A._ I thank you, gentle squire. - - _Eust._ The country Countess of Northumberland - Doth greet you well; and hath requested me - To bring these letters to your ladyship. - [_Delivers the letters._ - - _Count. of A._ I thank her honour, and yourself, my friend. - [_Peruses them._ - I see she means you good, brave gentleman.-- - Daughter, the Lady Elinor salutes - Yourself as well as me: then for her sake - 'Twere good you entertain'd that courtier well. - - _Ida._ As much salute as may become my sex, - And he in virtue can vouchsafe to think, - I yield him for the courteous countess' sake.-- - Good sir, sit down: my mother here and I - Count time misspent an endless vanity. - -_Eust._ [_aside_]. Beyond report, the wit, the fair, the shape!-- -What work you here, fair mistress? may I see it? - - _Ida._ Good sir, look on: how like you this compáct? - - _Eust._ Methinks in this I see true love in act: - The woodbines with their leaves do sweetly spread, - The roses blushing prank them in their red; - No flower but boasts the beauties of the spring; - This bird hath life indeed, if it could sing. - What means, fair mistress, had you in this work? - - _Ida._ My needle, sir. - - _Eust._ In needles, then, there lurk - Some hidden grace, I deem, beyond my reach. - - _Ida._ Not grace in them, good sir, but those that teach. - - _Eust._ Say that your needle now were Cupid's sting,-- - [_Aside_]. But, ah, her eye must be no less, - In which is heaven and heavenliness, - In which the food of God is shut, - Whose powers the purest minds do glut! - - _Ida._ What if it were? - - _Eust._ Then see a wondrous thing; - I fear me you would paint in Tereus' heart - Affection in his power and chiefest part. - - _Ida._ Good Lord, sir, no! for hearts but prickèd soft - Are wounded sore, for so I hear it oft. - - _Eust._ What recks the wound, where but your happy eye - May make him live whom Jove hath judg'd to die? - - _Ida._ Should life and death within this needle lurk, - I'll prick no hearts, I'll prick upon my work. - - _Enter_ ATEUKIN _and_ SLIPPER. - - _Count. of A._ Peace, Ida, I perceive the fox at hand. - - _Eust._ The fox! why, fetch your hounds, and chase him hence. - - _Count. of A._ O, sir, these great men bark at small offence. - Come, will it please you enter, gentle sir? - [_They offer to go out._ - - _Ateu._ Stay, courteous ladies; favour me so much - As to discourse a word or two apart. - - _Count. of A._ Good sir, my daughter learns this rule of me, - To shun resort and strangers' company; - For some are shifting mates that carry letters; - Some, such as you, too good because our betters. - - _Slip._ Now, I pray you, sir, what akin are you to a pickerel? - - _Ateu._ Why, knave? - -_Slip._ By my troth, sir, because I never knew a proper situation -fellow of your pitch fitter to swallow a gudgeon. - -_Ateu._ What meanest thou by this? - -_Slip._ "Shifting fellow," sir,--these be thy words;[263] "shifting -fellow": this gentlewoman, I fear me, knew your bringing up. - -_Ateu._ How so? - -_Slip._ Why, sir, your father was a miller, that could shift for a peck -of grist in a bushel, and you a fair-spoken gentleman, that can get -more land by a lie than an honest man by his ready money. - -_Ateu._ Caitiff, what sayest thou? - -_Slip._ I say, sir, that if she call you shifting knave, you shall not -put her to the proof. - -_Ateu._ And why? - -_Slip._ Because, sir, living by your wit as you do, shifting is your -letters-patents: it were a hard matter for me to get my dinner that -day wherein my master had not sold a dozen of devices, a case of -cogs, and a suit of shifts,[264] in the morning. I speak this in your -commendation, sir, and, I pray you, so take it. - -_Ateu._ If I live, knave, I will be revenged. What gentleman would -entertain a rascal thus to derogate from his honour? [_Beats him._ - -_Ida._ My lord, why are you thus impatient? - - _Ateu._ Not angry, Ida; but I teach this knave - How to behave himself among his betters.-- - Behold, fair countess, to assure your stay, - I here present the signet of the king, - Who now by me, fair Ida, doth salute you: - And since in secret I have certain things - In his behalf, good madam, to impart, - I crave your daughter to discourse apart. - - _Count. of A._ She shall in humble duty be addrest[265] - To do his highness' will in what she may. - - _Ida._ Now, gentle sir, what would his grace with me? - - _Ateu._ Fair, comely nymph, the beauty of your face, - Sufficient to bewitch the heavenly powers, - Hath wrought so much in him, that now of late - He finds himself made captive unto love; - And though his power and majesty require - A straight command before an humble suit, - Yet he his mightiness doth so abase - As to entreat your favour, honest maid. - - _Ida._ Is he not married, sir, unto our queen? - - _Ateu._ He is. - - _Ida._ And are not they by God accurs'd, - That sever them whom he hath knit in one? - - _Ateu._ They be: what then? we seek not to displace - The princess from her seat; but, since by love - The king is made your own, he is resolv'd - In private to accept your dalliance, - In spite of war, watch, or worldly eye. - - _Ida._ O, how he talks, as if he should not die! - As if that God in justice once could wink - Upon that fault I am asham'd to think! - - _Ateu._ Tut, mistress, man at first was born to err; - Women are all not formèd to be saints: - 'Tis impious for to kill our native king, - Whom by a little favour we may save. - - _Ida._ Better, than live unchaste, to lie in grave. - - _Ateu._ He shall erect your state, and wed you well. - - _Ida._ But can his warrant keep my soul from hell? - - _Ateu._ He will enforce, if you resist his suit. - - _Ida._ What tho?[266] The world may shame to him account, - To be a king of men and worldly pelf, - Yet hath no power to rule and guide himself. - - _Ateu._ I know you, gentle lady, and the care - Both of your honour and his grace's health - Makes me confusèd in this dangerous state. - - _Ida._ So counsel him, but soothe thou not his sin: - 'Tis vain allurement that doth make him love: - I shame to hear, be you asham'd to move. - - _Count. of A._ [_aside_]. I see my daughter grows impatient: - I fear me, he pretends some bad intent. - - _Ateu._ Will you despise the king and scorn him so? - - _Ida._ In all allegiance I will serve his grace, - But not in lust: O, how I blush to name it! - -_Ateu._ [_aside_]. An endless work is this: how should I frame it? -[_They discourse privately._ - -_Slip._ O, mistress, may I turn a word upon you? - -_Count. of A._ Friend, what wilt thou? - -_Slip._ O, what a happy gentlewoman be you truly! the world reports -this of you, mistress, that a man can no sooner come to your house but -the butler comes with a black-jack and says, "Welcome, friend, here's -a cup of the best for you": verily, mistress, you are said to have the -best ale in all Scotland. - -_Count. of A._ Sirrah, go fetch him drink. [Servant _brings drink_]. -How likest thou this? - -_Slip._ Like it, mistress! why, this is quincy quarie, pepper de -watchet, single goby, of all that ever I tasted! I'll prove in this -ale and toast the compass of the whole world. First, this is the -earth,--it lies in the middle, a fair brown toast, a goodly country for -hungry teeth to dwell upon; next, this is the sea, a fair pool for a -dry tongue to fish in: now come I, and, seeing the world is naught, I -divide it thus; and, because the sea cannot stand without the earth, as -Aristotle saith, I put them both into their first chaos, which is my -belly: and so, mistress, you may see your ale is become a miracle. - -_Eust._ A merry mate, madam, I promise you. - -_Count. of A._ Why sigh you, sirrah? - -_Slip._ Truly, madam, to think upon the world, which, since I denounced -it, keeps such a rumbling in my stomach, that, unless your cook give -it a counterbuff with some of your roasted capons or beef, I fear me -I shall become a loose body, so dainty, I think, I shall neither hold -fast before nor behind. - - _Count. of A._ Go take him in, and feast this merry swain.-- - Sirrah, my cook is your physician; - He hath a purge for to digest the world. - [_Exeunt_ SLIPPER _and_ Servant. - -_Ateu._ Will you not, Ida, grant his highness this? - - _Ida._ As I have said, in duty I am his: - For other lawless lusts that ill beseem him, - I cannot like, and good I will not deem him. - - _Count. of A._ Ida, come in:--and, sir, if so you please, - Come, take a homely widow's entertain. - - _Ida._ If he have no great haste, he may come nigh; - If haste, though he be gone, I will not cry. - [_Exeunt_ COUNTESS OF ARRAN, IDA, _and_ EUSTACE. - - _Ateu._ I see this labour lost, my hope in vain; - Yet will I try another drift again. [_Exit._ - - -SCENE II.--_The Court at Edinburgh._ - - _Enter, one by one, the_ BISHOP OF ST ANDREWS, DOUGLAS, MORTON, _and - others, one way_; QUEEN DOROTHEA _with_ NANO, _another way._ - -_Bp. of St And._ [_aside_]. O wrack of commonweal! O wretched state! - -_Doug._ [_aside_]. O hapless flock, whereas the guide is blind! - -_Mort._ [_aside_]. O heedless youth, where counsel is despis'd! -[_They are all in a muse._ - - _Q. Dor._ Come, pretty knave, and prank it by my side; - Let's see your best attendance out of hand. - - _Nano._ Madam, although my limbs are very small, - My heart is good; I'll serve you therewithal. - - _Q. Dor._ How, if I were assail'd, what couldst thou do? - - _Nano._ Madam, call help, and boldly fight it too: - Although a bee be but a little thing, - You know, fair queen, it hath a bitter sting. - -_Q. Dor._ How couldst thou do me good, were I in grief? - - _Nano._ Counsel, dear princess, is a choice relief: - Though Nestor wanted force, great was his wit; - And though I am but weak, my words are fit. - - _Bp. of St And._ [_aside_]. Like to a ship upon the ocean-seas, - Tost in the doubtful stream, without a helm, - Such is a monarch without good advice. - I am o'erheard: cast rein upon thy tongue; - Andrews, beware; reproof will breed a scar. - - _Mort._ Good-day, my lord. - - _Bp. of St And._ Lord Morton, well y-met.-- - Whereon deems Lord Douglas all this while? - - _Doug._ Of that which yours and my poor heart doth break, - Although fear shuts our mouths, we dare not speak. - - _Q. Dor._ [_aside_]. What mean these princes sadly to consult? - Somewhat, I fear, betideth them amiss, - They are so pale in looks, so vex'd in mind.-- - In happy hour, the noble Scottish peers, - Have I encounter'd you: what makes you mourn? - - _Bp. of St And._ If we with patience may attention gain, - Your grace shall know the cause of all our grief. - - _Q. Dor._ Speak on, good father: come and sit by me: - I know thy care is for the common good. - - _Bp. of St And._ As fortune, mighty princess, reareth some - To high estate and place in commonweal, - So by divine bequest to them is lent - A riper judgment and more searching eye, - Whereby they may discern the common harm; - For where our fortunes in the world are most, - Where all our profits rise and still increase, - There is our mind, thereon we meditate,-- - And what we do partake of good advice, - That we employ for to concern the same. - To this intent, these nobles and myself, - That are, or should be, eyes of commonweal, - Seeing his highness' reckless course of youth, - His lawless and unbridled vein in love, - His too intentive trust to flatterers, - His abject care of counsel and his friends, - Cannot but grieve; and, since we cannot draw - His eye or judgment to discern his faults, - Since we have spoke and counsel is not heard, - I, for my part,--let others as they list,-- - Will leave the court, and leave him to his will, - Lest with a ruthful eye I should behold - His overthrow, which, sore I fear, is nigh. - - _Q. Dor._ Ah, father, are you so estrang'd from love, - From due allegiance to your prince and land, - To leave your king when most he needs your help? - The thrifty husbandmen are never wont, - That see their lands unfruitful, to forsake them; - But, when the mould is barren and unapt, - They toil, they plow, and make the fallow fat: - The pilot in the dangerous seas is known; - In calmer waves the silly sailor strives. - Are you not members, lords, of commonweal, - And can your head, your dear anointed king, - Default, ye lords, except yourselves do fail? - O, stay your steps, return and counsel him! - - _Doug._ Men seek not moss upon a rolling stone, - Or water from the sieve, or fire from ice, - Or comfort from a reckless monarch's hands. - Madam, he sets us light, that serv'd in court, - In place of credit, in his father's days: - If we but enter presence of his grace, - Our payment is a frown, a scoff, a frump; - Whilst flattering Gnatho[267] pranks it by his side, - Soothing the careless king in his misdeeds: - And, if your grace consider your estate, - His life should urge you too, if all be true. - - _Q. Dor._ Why, Douglas, why? - - _Doug._ As if you have not heard - His lawless love to Ida grown of late, - His careless estimate of your estate. - - _Q. Dor._ Ah, Douglas, thou misconster'st his intent! - He doth but tempt his wife, he tries my love; - This injury pertains to me, not to you. - The king is young; and, if he step awry, - He may amend, and I will love him still. - Should we disdain our vines because they sprout - Before their time? or young men, if they strain - Beyond their reach? No; vines that bloom and spread - Do promise fruits, and young men that are wild - In age grow wise. My friends and Scottish peers, - If that an English princess may prevail, - Stay, stay with him: lo, how my zealous prayer - Is plead with tears! fie, peers, will you hence? - - _Bp. of St And._ Madam, 'tis virtue in your grace to plead; - But we, that see his vain untoward course, - Cannot but fly the fire before it burn, - And shun the court before we see his fall. - - _Q. Dor._ Will you not stay? then, lordings, fare you well. - Though you forsake your king, the heavens, I hope, - Will favour him through mine incessant prayer. - - _Nano._ Content you, madam; thus old Ovid sings, - 'Tis foolish to bewail recureless things. - - _Q. Dor._ Peace, dwarf; these words my patience move. - - _Nano._ Although you charm my speech, charm not my love. - [_Exeunt_ QUEEN DOROTHEA _and_ NANO. - - _Enter the_ KING OF SCOTS; _the_ Nobles, _spying him as they are about - to go off, return._ - - _K. of Scots._ Douglas, how now! why changest thou thy cheer? - - _Doug._ My private troubles are so great, my liege, - As I must crave your license for awhile, - For to intend mine own affairs at home. - - _K. of Scots._ You may depart. [_Exit_ DOUGLAS.] But why is Morton sad? - - _Mort._ The like occasion doth import me too: - So I desire your grace to give me leave. - - _K. of Scots._ Well, sir, you may betake you to your ease. - [_Exit_ MORTON. - [_Aside_]. When such grim sirs are gone, I see no let - To work my will. - - _Bp. of St And._ What, like the eagle, then, - With often flight wilt thou thy feathers lose? - O king, canst thou endure to see thy court - Of finest wits and judgments dispossess'd, - Whilst cloaking craft with soothing climbs so high - As each bewails ambition is so bad? - Thy father left thee with estate and crown, - A learnèd council to direct thy course: - These carelessly, O king, thou castest off, - To entertain a train of sycophants. - Thou well may'st see, although thou wilt not see, - That every eye and ear both sees and hears - The certain signs of thine incontinence. - Thou art allied unto the English king - By marriage;--a happy friend indeed, - If usèd well; if not, a mighty foe. - Thinketh your grace, he can endure and brook - To have a partner in his daughter's love? - Thinketh your grace, the grudge of privy wrongs - Will not procure him change his smiles to threats? - O, be not blind to good! call home your lords, - Displace these flattering Gnathoes, drive them hence! - Love and with kindness take your wedlock wife; - Or else, which God forbid, I fear a change: - Sin cannot thrive in courts without a plague. - - _K. of Scots._ Go pack thou too, unless thou mend thy talk! - On pain of death, proud bishop, get you gone, - Unless you headless mean to hop away! - - _Bp. of St And._ Thou God of heaven, prevent my country's fall! - [_Exit with other_ Nobles. - - _K. of Scots._ These stays and lets to pleasure plague my thoughts, - Forcing my grievous wounds anew to bleed; - But care that hath transported me so far, - Fair Ida, is dispers'd in thought of thee, - Whose answer yields me life or breeds my death. - Yond comes the messenger of weal or woe. - - _Enter_ ATEUKIN.[268] - - Ateukin, what news? - - _Ateu._ The adamant, O king, will not be fil'd - But by itself, and beauty that exceeds - By some exceeding favour must be wrought: - Ida is coy as yet, and doth repine, - Objecting marriage, honour, fear and death: - She's holy-wise, and too precise for me. - - _K. of Scots._ Are these thy fruits of wit, thy sight in art, - Thine eloquence, thy policy, thy drift,-- - To mock thy prince? Then, caitiff, pack thee hence, - And let me die devourèd in my love! - - _Ateu._ Good lord, how rage gainsayeth reason's power! - My dear, my gracious, and belovèd prince, - The essence of my soul, my god on earth, - Sit down and rest yourself: appease your wrath, - Lest with a frown ye wound me to the death. - O, that I were included in my grave, - That either now, to save my prince's life, - Must counsel cruelty, or lose my king! - - _K. of Scots._ Why, sirrah, is there means to move her mind? - - _Ateu._ O, should I not offend my royal liege,-- - - _K. of Scots._ Tell all, spare naught, so I may gain my love. - - _Ateu._ Alas, my soul, why art thou torn in twain, - For fear thou talk a thing that should displease? - - _K. of Scots._ Tut, speak whatso thou wilt, I pardon thee. - - _Ateu._ How kind a word, how courteous is his grace! - Who would not die to succour such a king? - My liege, this lovely maid of modest mind - Could well incline to love, but that she fears - Fair Dorothea's power: your grace doth know, - Your wedlock is a mighty let to love. - Were Ida sure to be your wedded wife, - That then the twig would bow you might command: - Ladies love presents, pomp, and high estate. - - _K. of Scots._ Ah, Ateukin, how should we displace this let? - - _Ateu._ Tut, mighty prince,--O, that I might be whist![269] - - _K. of Scots._ Why dalliest thou? - - _Ateu._ I will not move my prince! - I will prefer his safety 'fore my life. - Hear me, O king! 'tis Dorothea's death - Must do you good. - - _K. of Scots._ What, murder of my queen! - Yet, to enjoy my love, what is my queen? - O, but my vow and promise to my queen! - Ay, but my hope to gain a fairer queen: - With how contrarious thoughts am I withdrawn! - Why linger I 'twixt hope and doubtful fear? - If Dorothea die, will Ida love? - - _Ateu._ She will, my lord. - - _K. of Scots._ Then let her die: devise, advise the means; - All likes me well that lends me hope in love. - - _Ateu._ What, will your grace consent? Then let me work. - There's here in court a Frenchman, Jaques call'd - A fit performer of our enterprise, - Whom I by gifts and promise will corrupt - To slay the queen, so that your grace will seal - A warrant for the man, to save his life. - - _K. of Scots._ Naught shall he want; write thou, and I will sign: - And, gentle Gnatho, if my Ida yield, - Thou shalt have what thou wilt; I'll give thee straight - A barony, an earldom, for reward. - - _Ateu._ Frolic, young king, the lass shall be your own: - I'll make her blithe and wanton by my wit. - [_Exeunt_. - - -CHORUS[270] - - _Enter_ BOHAN _and_ OBERON. - - _Boh._ So, Oberon, now it begins to work in kind. - The ancient lords by leaving him alone, - Disliking of his humours and despite, - Let him run headlong, till his flatterers, - Soliciting his thoughts of lawless lust - With vile persuasions and alluring words, - Make him make way by murder to his will. - Judge, fairy king, hast heard a greater ill? - - _Ober._ Nor seen more virtue in a country maid. - I tell thee, Bohan, it doth make me sorry, - To think the deeds the king means to perform. - - _Boh._ To change that humour, stand and see the rest: - I trow my son Slipper will show's a jest. - - _Enter_ SLIPPER _with a companion_, boy _or_ wench, _dancing a - hornpipe, and dance out again._ - - Now after this beguiling of our thoughts, - And changing them from sad to better glee, - Let's to our cell, and sit and see the rest, - For, I believe, this jig will prove no jest. [_Exeunt_. - - - - -ACT THE THIRD - - -SCENE I.--_Edinburgh._ - - _Enter_ SLIPPER _one way, and_ SIR BARTRAM _another way._ - -_Sir Bar._ Ho, fellow! stay, and let me speak with thee. - -_Slip._ Fellow! friend, thou dost disbuse me; I am a gentleman. - -_Sir Bar._ A gentleman! how so? - -_Slip._ Why, I rub horses, sir. - -_Sir Bar._ And what of that? - -_Slip._ O simple-witted! mark my reason. They that do good service in -the commonweal are gentlemen; but such as rub horses do good service -in the commonweal; ergo, tarbox, master courtier, a horse-keeper is a -gentleman. - -_Sir Bar._ Here is overmuch wit, in good earnest. But, sirrah, where is -thy master? - -_Slip._ Neither above ground nor under ground, drawing out red into -white, swallowing that down without chawing that was never made without -treading. - -_Sir Bar._ Why, where is he, then? - -_Slip._ Why, in his cellar, drinking a cup of neat and brisk claret, -in a bowl of silver. O, sir, the wine runs trillill down his throat, -which cost the poor vintner many a stamp before it was made. But I must -hence, sir, I have haste. - -_Sir Bar._ Why, whither now, I prithee? - -_Slip._ Faith, sir, to Sir Silvester, a knight, hard by, upon my -master's errand, whom I must certify this, that the lease of East -Spring shall be confirmed; and therefore must I bid him provide trash, -for my master is no friend without money. - - _Sir Bar._ [_aside_]. This is the thing for which I su'd so long, - This is the lease which I, by Gnatho's means, - Sought to possess by patent from the king; - But he, injurious man, who lives by crafts, - And sells king's favours for who will give most, - Hath taken bribes of me, yet covertly - Will sell away the thing pertains to me: - But I have found a present help, I hope, - For to prevent his purpose and deceit.-- - Stay, gentle friend. - -_Slip._ A good word; thou hast won me: this word is like a warm caudle -to a cold stomach. - -_Sir Bar._ Sirrah, wilt thou, for money and reward, -Convey me certain letters, out of hand, -From out thy master's pocket? - -_Slip._ Will I, sir? why, were it to rob my father, hang my mother, or -any such like trifles, I am at your commandment, sir. What will you -give me, sir? - -_Sir Bar._ A hundred pounds. - -_Slip._ I am your man: give me earnest. I am dead at a pocket, sir; -why, I am a lifter, master, by my occupation. - -_Sir Bar._ A lifter! what is that? - -_Slip._ Why, sir, I can lift a pot as well as any man, and pick a purse -as soon as any thief in my country. - -_Sir Bar._ Why, fellow, hold; here is earnest, ten pound to assure -thee. [_Gives money_]. Go, despatch, and bring it me to yonder tavern -thou seest; and assure thyself, thou shalt both have thy skin full of -wine and the rest of thy money. - -_Slip._ I will, sir.--Now room for a gentleman, my masters! who gives -me money for a fair new angel,[271] a trim new angel? [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE II.--_The Same._ - - _Enter_ ANDREW _and_ Purveyor. - -_Pur._ Sirrah, I must needs have your master's horses: the king cannot -be unserved. - -_And._ Sirrah, you must needs go without them, because my master must -be served. - -_Pur._ Why, I am the king's purveyor, and I tell thee I will have them. - -_And._ I am Ateukin's servant, Signior Andrew, and I say, thou shalt -not have them. - -_Pur._ Here's my ticket; deny it if thou darest. - -_And._ There is the stable; fetch them out if thou darest. - -_Pur._ Sirrah, sirrah, tame your tongue, lest I make you. - -_And._ Sirrah, sirrah, hold your hand, lest I bum[272] you. - -_Pur._ I tell thee, thy master's geldings are good, and therefore fit -for the king. - -_And._ I tell thee, my master's horses have galled backs, and therefore -cannot fit the king. Purveyor, purveyor, purvey thee of more wit: -darest thou presume to wrong my Lord Ateukin, being the chiefest man in -court? - -_Pur._ The more unhappy commonweal where flatterers are chief in court. - -_And._ What sayest thou? - -_Pur._ I say thou art too presumptuous, and the officers shall school -thee. - -_And._ A fig for them and thee, purveyor! They seek a knot in a ring -that would wrong my master or his servants in this court. - - _Enter_ JAQUES. - -_Pur._ The world is at a wise pass when nobility is afraid of a -flatterer. - -_Jaq._ Sirrah, what be you that _parley contre Monsieur_ my Lord -Ateukin? _en bonne foi_, prate you against Sir _Altesse_, me maka your -_tête_ to leap from your shoulders, _per ma foi c'y ferai-je?_ - -_And._ O, signior captain, you show yourself a forward and friendly -gentleman in my master's behalf: I will cause him to thank you. - -_Jaq. Poltron_, speak me one _parola_ against my _bon gentilhomme_, I -shall _estamp_ your guts, and thump your backa, that you _no point_ -manage this ten hours. - -_Pur._ Sirrah, come open me the stable, and let me have the -horses;--and, fellow, for all your French brags, I will do my duty. - -_And._ I'll make garters of thy guts, thou villain, if thou enter this -office. - -_Jaq. Mort Dieu_, take me that cappa _pour votre labeur_: be gone, -villain, in the _mort_. [_Exit._ - -_Pur._ What, will you resist me, then? Well, the council, fellow, shall -know of your insolency. - -_And._ Tell them what thou wilt, and eat that I can best spare from my -back-parts, and get you gone with a vengeance. [_Exit_ Purveyor. - - _Enter_ ATEUKIN. - -_Ateu._ Andrew. - -_And._ Sir? - -_Ateu._ Where be my writings I put in my pocket last night? - -_And._ Which, sir? your annotations upon Machiavel? - -_Ateu._ No, sir; the letters-patents for East Spring. - -_And._ Why, sir, you talk wonders to me, if you ask that question. - -_Ateu._ Yea, sir, and will work wonders too with you, unless you find -them out: villain, search me them out, and bring them me, or thou art -but dead. - -_And._ A terrible word in the latter end of a sessions. Master, were -you in your right wits yesternight? - -_Ateu._ Dost thou doubt it? - -_And._ Ay, and why not, sir? for the greatest clerks are not the -wisest, and a fool may dance in a hood, as well as a wise man in a bare -frock: besides, such as give themselves to philautia,[273] as you do, -master, are so choleric of complexion that that which they burn in fire -over night they seek for with fury the next morning. Ah, I take care -of your worship! this commonweal should have a great loss of so good a -member as you are. - -_Ateu._ Thou flatterest me. - -_And._ Is it flattery in me, sir, to speak you fair? what is it, then, -in you to dally with the king? - -_Ateu._ Are you prating, knave? I will teach you better nurture! Is -this the care you have of my wardrobe, of my accounts, and matters of -trust? - -_And._ Why, alas, sir, in times past your garments have been so well -inhabited as your tenants would give no place to a moth to mangle them; -but since you are grown greater, and your garments more fine and gay, -if your garments are not fit for hospitality, blame your pride and -commend my cleanliness: as for your writings, I am not for them, nor -they for me. - -_Ateu._ Villain, go, fly, find them out: if thou losest them, thou -losest my credit. - -_And._ Alas, sir, can I lose that you never had? - -_Ateu._ Say you so? then hold, feel you that you never felt. [_Beats -him._ - - _Re-enter_ JAQUES. - -_Jaq._ O monsieur, _ayez patience_: pardon your _pauvre valet_: me be -at your commandment. - -_Ateu._ Signior Jaques, well met; you shall command me.--Sirrah, go -cause my writings be proclaimed in the market-place; promise a great -reward to them that find them; look where I supped and everywhere. - -_And._ I will, sir--[_aside_]. Now are two knaves well met, and three -well parted: if thou conceive mine enigma, gentlemen,[274] what shall I -be, then? faith, a plain harp-shilling.[275] [_Exit._ - - _Ateu._ Sieur Jaques, this our happy meeting rids - Your friends and me of care and grievous toil; - For I, that look into deserts of men, - And see among the soldiers in this court - A noble forward mind, and judge thereof, - Cannot but seek the means to raise them up - Who merit credit in the commonweal. - To this intent, friend Jaques, I have found - A means to make you great, and well-esteem'd - Both with the king and with the best in court: - For I espy in you a valiant mind, - Which makes me love, admire, and honour you. - To this intent, if so your trust, and faith, - Your secrecy be equal with your force, - I will impart a service to thyself, - Which if thou dost effect, the king, myself, - And what or he, or I with him, can work, - Shall be employ'd in what thou wilt desire. - -_Jaq._ Me sweara by my ten bones, my signior, to be loyal to your -lordship's intents, affairs: yea, my _monseigneur, que non ferai-je -pour_ your pleasure? By my sworda, me be no _babillard_.[276] - - _Ateu._ Then hoping on thy truth, I prithee see - How kind Ateukin is to forward thee. - Hold [_giving money_], take this earnest-penny of my love, - And mark my words: the king, by me, requires - No slender service, Jaques, at thy hands.-- - Thou must by privy practice make away - The queen, fair Dorothea, as she sleeps, - Or how thou wilt, so she be done to death: - Thou shalt not want promotion here in court. - -_Jaq._ Stabba the woman! _par ma foi, monseigneur_, me thrusta my -weapon into her belly, so me may be guard _par le roi_. Me do your -service: but me no be hanged _pour_ my labour? - - _Ateu._ Thou shalt have warrant, Jaques, from the king: - None shall outface, gainsay, and wrong my friend. - Do not I love thee, Jaques? fear not, then: - I tell thee, whoso toucheth thee in aught - Shall injure me: I love, I tender thee: - Thou art a subject fit to serve his grace. - Jaques, I had a written warrant once, - But that, by great misfortune, late is lost. - Come, wend we to Saint Andrews, where his grace - Is now in progress, where he shall assure - Thy safety, and confirm thee to the act. - -_Jaq._ We will attend your nobleness. [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE III.--_The Palace of the_ KING OF SCOTS. - - _Enter_ QUEEN DOROTHEA, SIR BARTRAM, NANO, ROSS, Ladies, _and_ - Attendants. - - _Q. Dor._ Thy credit, Bartram, in the Scottish court, - Thy reverend years, the strictness of thy vows, - All these are means sufficient to persuade; - But love, the faithful link of loyal hearts, - That hath possession of my constant mind, - Exiles all dread, subdueth vain suspect. - Methinks no craft should harbour in that breast - Where majesty and virtue are install'd: - Methinks my beauty should not cause my death. - - _Sir Bar._ How gladly, sovereign princess, would I err, - And bide my shame to save your royal life! - 'Tis princely in yourself to think the best, - To hope his grace is guiltless of this crime: - But if in due prevention you default, - How blind are you that were forewarn'd before! - - _Q. Dor._ Suspicion without cause deserveth blame. - - _Sir Bar._ Who see, and shun not, harms, deserve the same. - Behold the tenor of this traitorous plot. - [_Gives warrant._ - - _Q. Dor._ What should I read? Perhaps he wrote it not. - - _Sir Bar._ Here is his warrant, under seal and sign, - To Jaques, born in France, to murder you. - - _Q. Dor._ Ah, careless king, would God this were not thine! - What though I read? ah, should I think it true? - - _Ross._ The hand and seal confirm the deed is his. - - _Q. Dor._ What know I though if now he thinketh this? - - _Nano._ Madam, Lucretius saith that to repent - Is childish, wisdom to prevent. - - _Q. Dor._ What tho? - - _Nano._ Then cease your tears, that have dismay'd you, - And cross the foe before he have betray'd you. - - _Sir Bar._ What need these long suggestions in this cause, - When every circumstance confirmeth truth? - First, let the hidden mercy from above - Confirm your grace, since by a wondrous means - The practice of your dangers came to light: - Next, let the tokens of approvèd truth - Govern and stay your thoughts, too much seduc'd, - And mark the sooth, and listen the intent. - Your highness knows, and these my noble lords - Can witness this, that whilst your husband's sire - In happy peace possess'd the Scottish crown, - I was his sworn attendant here in court; - In dangerous fight I never fail'd my lord; - And since his death, and this your husband's reign, - No labour, duty, have I left undone, - To testify my zeal unto the crown. - But now my limbs are weak, mine eyes are dim, - Mine age unwieldly and unmeet for toil, - I came to court, in hope, for service past, - To gain some lease to keep me, being old. - There found I all was upsy-turvy turn'd, - My friends displac'd, the nobles loth to crave: - Then sought I to the minion of the king, - Ateukin, who, allurèd by a bribe, - Assur'd me of the lease for which I sought. - But see the craft! when he had got the grant, - He wrought to sell it to Sir Silvester, - In hope of greater earnings from his hands. - In brief, I learn'd his craft, and wrought the means, - By one his needy servants for reward, - To steal from out his pocket all the briefs; - Which he perform'd, and with reward resign'd. - Them when I read,--now mark the power of God,-- - I found this warrant seal'd among the rest, - To kill your grace, whom God long keep alive! - Thus, in effect, by wonder are you sav'd: - Trifle not, then, but seek a speedy flight; - God will conduct your steps, and shield the right. - - _Q. Dor._ What should I do? ah, poor unhappy queen, - Born to endure what fortune can contain! - Alas, the deed is too apparent now! - But, O mine eyes, were you as bent to hide - As my poor heart is forward to forgive, - Ah cruel king, my love would thee acquit! - O, what avails to be allied and match'd - With high estates, that marry but in show? - Were I baser born, my mean estate - Could warrant me from this impendent harm: - But to be great and happy, these are twain. - Ah, Ross, what shall I do? how shall I work? - - _Ross._ With speedy letters to your father send, - Who will revenge you and defend your right. - - _Q. Dor._ As if they kill not me, who with him fight! - As if his breast be touch'd, I am not wounded! - As if he wail'd, my joys were not confounded! - We are one heart, though rent by hate in twain; - One soul, one essence doth our weal contain: - What, then, can conquer him, that kills not me? - - _Ross._ If this advice displease, then, madam, flee. - - _Q. Dor._ Where may I wend or travel without fear? - - _Ross._ Where not, in changing this attire you wear? - - _Q. Dor._ What, shall I clad me like a country maid? - - _Nano._ The policy is base, I am afraid. - - _Q. Dor._ Why, Nano? - - _Nano._ Ask you why? What, may a queen - March forth in homely weed, and be not seen? - The rose, although in thorny shrubs she spread, - Is still the rose, her beauties wax not dead; - And noble minds, although the coat be bare, - Are by their semblance known, how great they are. - - _Sir Bar._ The dwarf saith true. - - _Q. Dor._ What garments lik'st thou, than? - - _Nano._ Such as may make you seem a proper man. - - _Q. Dor._ He makes me blush and smile, though I am sad. - - _Nano._ The meanest coat for safety is not bad. - - _Q. Dor._ What, shall I jet[277] in breeches, like a squire? - Alas, poor dwarf, thy mistress is unmeet. - - _Nano._ Tut, go me thus, your cloak before your face, - Your sword uprear'd with quaint and comely grace: - If any come and question what you be, - Say you "A man," and call for witness me. - - _Q. Dor._ What, should I wear a sword? to what intent? - - _Nano._ Madam, for show; it is an ornament: - If any wrong you, draw: a shining blade - Withdraws a coward thief that would invade. - - _Q. Dor._ But, if I strike, and he should strike again, - What should I do? I fear I should be slain. - - _Nano._ No, take it single on your dagger so: - I'll teach you, madam, how to ward a blow. - - _Q. Dor._ How little shapes much substance may include!-- - Sir Bartram, Ross, ye ladies, and my friends, - Since presence yields me death, and absence life, - Hence will I fly, disguisèd like a squire, - As one that seeks to live in Irish wars: - You, gentle Ross, shall furnish my depart. - - _Ross._ Yea, prince, and die with you with all my heart! - Vouchsafe me, then, in all extremest states - To wait on you and serve you with my best. - - _Q. Dor._ To me pertains the woe: live then in rest. - Friends, fare you well: keep secret my depart: - Nano alone shall my attendant be. - - _Nano._ Then, madam, are you mann'd, I warrant ye! - Give me a sword, and, if there grow debate, - I'll come behind, and break your enemy's pate. - - _Ross._ How sore we grieve to part so soon away! - - _Q. Dor._ Grieve not for those that perish if they stay. - - _Nano._ The time in words misspent is little worth; - Madam, walk on, and let them bring us forth. - [_Exeunt._ - - -CHORUS - - _Enter_ BOHAN. - -_Boh._ So, these sad motions make the fairy sleep; -And sleep he shall in quiet and content: -For it would make a marble melt and weep, -To see these treasons 'gainst the innocent. -But, since she 'scapes by flight to save her life, -The king may chance repent she was his wife. -The rest is ruthful; yet, to beguile the time, -'Tis interlac'd with merriment and rhyme. -[_Exit._ - - - - -ACT THE FOURTH - - -SCENE I.--_On the King's Preserves._ - - _After a noise of horns and shoutings, enter certain_ Huntsmen _(if - you please, singing) one way; another way_ ATEUKIN _and_ JAQUES. - -_Ateu._ Say, gentlemen, where may we find the king? - - _First Hunts._ Even here at hand, on hunting; - And at this hour he taken hath a stand, - To kill a deer. - - _Ateu._ A pleasant work in hand. - Follow your sport, and we will seek his grace. - -_First Hunts._ When such him seek, it is a woful case. -[_Exeunt_ Huntsmen _one way_, ATEUKIN _and_ JAQUES _another._ - - -SCENE II.--_Near the Castle of the_ COUNTESS OF ARRAN. - - _Enter the_ COUNTESS OF ARRAN, IDA _and_ EUSTACE. - - _Count. of A._ Lord Eustace, as your youth and virtuous life - Deserve a far more fair and richer wife, - So, since I am a mother, and do wit - What wedlock is, and that which 'longs to it, - Before I mean my daughter to bestow, - 'Twere meet that she and I your state did know. - - _Eust._ Madam, if I consider Ida's worth, - I know my portions merit none so fair, - And yet I hold in farm and yearly rent - A thousand pound, which may her state content. - -_Count. of A._ But what estate, my lord, shall she possess? - -_Eust._ All that is mine, grave countess, and no less.-- -But, Ida, will you love? - -_Ida._ I cannot hate. - -_Eust._ But will you wed? - -_Ida._ 'Tis Greek to me, my lord: -I'll wish you well, and thereon take my word. - -_Eust._ Shall I some sign of favour, then, receive? - -_Ida._ Ay, if her ladyship will give me leave. - -_Count. of A._ Do what thou wilt. - - _Ida._ Then, noble English peer, - Accept this ring, wherein my heart is set; - A constant heart, with burning flames be-fret, - But under-written this, _O morte dura_: - Hereon whenso you look with eyes _pura_, - The maid you fancy most will favour you. - -_Eust._ I'll try this heart, in hope to find it true. - - _Enter certain_ Huntsmen _and_ Ladies. - - _First Hunts._ Widow countess, well y-met;[278] - Ever may thy joys be many;-- - Gentle Ida, fair beset, - Fair and wise, not fairer any; - Frolic huntsmen of the game - Will you well, and give you greeting. - - _Ida._ Thanks, good woodman, for the same, - And our sport, and merry meeting. - - _First Hunts._ Unto thee we do present - Silver hart with arrow wounded. - - _Eust._ [_aside_]. This doth shadow my lament, - [With] both fear and love confounded. - - _Ladies._ To the mother of the maid, - Fair as the lilies, red as roses, - Even so many goods are said, - As herself in heart supposes. - - _Count. of A._ What are you, friends, that thus do wish us well? - - _First Hunts._ Your neighbours nigh, that have on hunting been, - Who, understanding of your walking forth, - Prepar'd this train to entertain you with: - This Lady Douglas, this Sir Egmond is. - - _Count. of A._ Welcome, ye ladies, and thousand thanks for this. - Come, enter you a homely widow's house, - And if mine entertainment please you, let us feast. - - _First Hunts._ A lovely lady never wants a guest. - [_Exeunt_ COUNTESS OF ARRAN, Huntsmen, _and_ Ladies. - - _Eust._ Stay, gentle Ida, tell me what you deem, - What doth this hart, this tender hart beseem? - - _Ida._ Why not, my lord, since nature teacheth art - To senseless beasts to cure their grievous smart; - Dictamnum[279] serves to close the wound again. - - _Eust._ What help for those that love? - - _Ida._ Why, love again. - - _Eust._ Were I the hart,-- - - _Ida._ Then I the herb would be: - You shall not die for help; come, follow me. [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE III.--_A Public Place near the Palace._ - - _Enter_ ANDREW _and_ JAQUES. - -_Jaq. Mon dieu_, what _malheur_ be this! me come a the chamber, Signior -Andrew, _mon dieu_; taka my poniard _en ma main_ to give the _estocade_ -to the _damoisella: par ma foi_, there was no person; _elle s'est en -allée_. - -_And._ The worse luck, Jaques: but because I am thy friend, I will -advise thee somewhat towards the attainment of the gallows. - -_Jaq._ Gallows! what be that? - -_And._ Marry, sir, a place of great promotion, where thou shalt by one -turn above ground rid the world of a knave, and make a goodly ensample -for all bloody villains of thy profession. - -_Jaq. Que dites vous_, Monsieur Andrew? - -_And._ I say, Jaques, thou must keep this path, and hie thee; for the -queen, as I am certified, is departed with her dwarf, apparelled like -a squire. Overtake her, Frenchman, stab her: I'll promise thee, this -doublet shall be happy. - -_Jaq. Pourquoi?_ - -_And._ It shall serve a jolly gentleman, Sir Dominus Monseigneur -Hangman. - -_Jaq. C'est tout un_; me will rama _pour la monnoie_. [_Exit._ - -_And._ Go, and the rot consume thee!--O, what a trim world is this! -My master lives by cozening the king, I by flattering him; Slipper, -my fellow, by stealing, and I by lying: is not this a wily accord, -gentlemen?[280] This last night, our jolly horsekeeper, being well -steeped in liquor, confessed to me the stealing of my master's -writings, and his great reward. Now dare I not bewray him, lest he -discover my knavery; but this have I wrought: I understand he will pass -this way, to provide him necessaries; but, if I and my fellows fail -not, we will teach him such a lesson as shall cost him a chief place on -Pennyless Bench[281] for his labour. But yond he comes. [_Stands aside._ - - _Enter_ SLIPPER, _with a_ Tailor, _a_ Shoemaker, _and a_ Cutler. - -_Slip._ Tailor. - -_Tai._ Sir? - -_Slip._ Let my doublet be white northern, five groats the yard: I tell -thee, I will be brave. - -_Tai._ It shall, sir. - -_Slip._ Now, sir, cut it me like the battlements of a custard, full -of round holes; edge me the sleeves with Coventry blue, and let the -linings be of tenpenny lockram. - -_Tai._ Very good, sir. - -_Slip._ Make it the amorous cut, a flap before. - -_Tai._ And why so? that fashion is stale. - -_Slip._ O, friend, thou art a simple fellow. I tell thee, a flap is a -great friend to a storrie; it stands him instead of clean napery; and, -if a man's shirt be torn, it is a present penthouse to defend him from -a clean huswife's scoff. - -_Tai._ You say sooth, sir. - -_Slip._ [_giving money_]. Hold, take thy money; there is seven -shillings for the doublet, and eight for the breeches: seven and eight; -by'rlady, thirty-six is a fair deal of money. - -_Tai._ Farewell, sir. - -_Slip._ Nay, but stay, tailor. - -_Tai._ Why, sir? - -_Slip._ Forget not this special make: let my back-parts be well lined, -for there come many winter-storms from a windy belly, I tell thee. -[_Exit_ Tailor]. Shoemaker. - -_Shoe._ Gentleman, what shoe will it please you to have? - -_Slip._ A fine, neat calves'-leather, my friend. - -_Shoe._ O, sir, that is too thin, it will not last you. - -_Slip._ I tell thee, it is my near kinsman, for I am Slipper, which -hath his best grace in summer to be suited in calves'[282] skins. -Goodwife Calf was my grandmother, and Goodman Netherleather mine uncle; -but my mother, good woman, alas, she was a Spaniard, and being well -tanned and dressed by a good fellow, an Englishman, is grown to some -wealth: as, when I have but my upper-parts clad in her husband's costly -Spanish leather, I may be bold to kiss the fairest lady's foot in this -country. - -_Shoe._ You are of high birth, sir: but have you all your mother's -marks on you? - -_Slip._ Why, knave? - -_Shoe._ Because, if thou come of the blood of the Slippers, you should -have a shoemaker's awl thrust through your ear. - -_Slip._ [_giving money_]. Take your earnest, friend, and be packing, -and meddle not with my progenitors. [_Exit_ Shoemaker]. Cutler. - -_Cut._ Here, sir. - -_Slip._ I must have a reaper and digger.[283] - -_Cut._ A rapier and dagger, you mean, sir? - -_Slip._ Thou sayest true; but it must have a very fair edge. - -_Cut._ Why so, sir? - -_Slip._ Because it may cut by himself, for truly, my friend, I am a man -of peace, and wear weapons but for fashion. - -_Cut._ Well, sir, give me earnest, I will fit you. - -_Slip._ [_giving money_]. Hold, take it: I betrust thee, friend; let me -be well armed. - -_Cut._ You shall. [_Exit._ - -_Slip._ Now what remains? there's twenty crowns for house, three crowns -for household-stuff, sixpence to buy a constable's staff; nay, I will -be the chief of my parish. There wants nothing but a wench, a cat, a -dog, a wife, and a servant, to make an whole family. Shall I marry with -Alice, Goodman Grimshawe's daughter? she is fair, but indeed her tongue -is like clocks on Shrove Tuesday, always out of temper. Shall I wed -Sisley of the Whighton? O, no! she is like a frog in a parsley bed; as -skittish as an eel: if I seek to hamper her, she will horn me. But a -wench must be had, Master Slipper; yea, and shall be, dear friend. - -_And._ [_aside_]. I now will drive him from his contemplations.--O, my -mates, come forward: the lamb is unpent, the fox shall prevail. - - _Enter three_ Antics, _who dance round, and take_ Slipper _with them._ - -_Slip._ I will, my friend, and I thank you heartily: pray, keep your -courtesy: I am yours in the way of an hornpipe.--[_Aside_]. They are -strangers; I see they understand not my language: wee, wee.--[284] - -[_Whilst they are dancing_, ANDREW _takes away_ SLIPPER'S _money, and -the other_ Antics _depart._ - -Nay, but, my friends, one hornpipe further! a refluence back, and two -doubles forward! What, not one cross-point against Sundays? What, ho, -sirrah, you gone? you with the nose like an eagle, an you be a right -Greek, one turn more.--Thieves, thieves! I am robbed! thieves! Is this -the knavery of fiddlers? Well, I will then bind the whole credit of -their occupation on a bag-piper, and he for my money. But I will after, -and teach them to caper in a halter, that have cozened me of my money. -[_Exit._ - - -SCENE IV.--_The Forest near Edinburgh._ - - _Enter_ QUEEN DOROTHEA _in man's apparel, and_ NANO. - - _Q. Dor._ Ah, Nano, I am weary of these weeds, - Weary to wield this weapon that I bear, - Weary of love from whom my woe proceeds, - Weary of toil, since I have lost my dear. - O weary life, where wanteth no distress, - But every thought is paid with heaviness! - - _Nano._ Too much of weary, madam: if you please, - Sit down, let weary die, and take your ease. - - _Q. Dor._ How look I, Nano? like a man or no? - - _Nano._ If not a man, yet like a manly shrow.[285] - - _Q. Dor._ If any come and meet us on the way, - What should we do, if they enforce us stay? - - _Nano._ Set cap a-huff, and challenge him the field: - Suppose the worst, the weak may fight to yield. - - _Q. Dor._ The battle, Nano, in this troubled mind - Is far more fierce than ever we may find. - The body's wounds by medicines may be eas'd, - But griefs of mind, by salves are no appeas'd. - - _Nano._ Say, madam, will you hear your Nano sing? - - _Q. Dor._ Of woe, good boy, but of no other thing. - - _Nano._ What if I sing of fancy?[286] will it please? - - _Q. Dor._ To such as hope success such notes breed ease. - - _Nano._ What if I sing, like Damon, to my sheep? - - _Q. Dor._ Like Phillis, I will sit me down to weep. - - _Nano._ Nay, since my songs afford such pleasure small, - I'll sit me down, and sing you none at all. - - _Q. Dor._ O, be not angry, Nano! - - _Nano._ Nay, you loathe - To think on that which doth content us both. - - _Q. Dor._ And how? - - _Nano._ You scorn disport when you are weary, - And loathe my mirth, who live to make you merry. - - _Q. Dor._ Danger and fear withdraw me from delight. - - _Nano._ 'Tis virtue to contemn false fortune's spite. - - _Q. Dor._ What should I do to please thee, friendly squire? - - _Nano._ A smile a-day is all I will require; - And, if you pay me well the smiles you owe me, - I'll kill this cursèd care, or else beshrow me. - - _Q. Dor._ We are descried; O, Nano, we are dead! - - _Enter_ JAQUES, _his sword drawn._ - - _Nano._ Tut, yet you walk, you are not dead indeed. - Draw me your sword, if he your way withstand, - And I will seek for rescue out of hand. - - _Q. Dor._ Run, Nano, run, prevent thy princess' death. - -_Nano._ Fear not, I'll run all danger out of breath. -[_Exit._ - -_Jaq._ Ah, you _calletta_! you _strumpetta! Maitressa Doretie, êtes -vous surprise?_ Come, say your paternoster, _car vous êtes morte, par -ma foi_. - - _Q. Dor._ Callet! me strumpet! Caitiff as thou art! - But even a princess born, who scorns thy threats: - Shall never Frenchman say an England maid - Of threats of foreign force will be afraid. - -_Jaq._ You no _dire votres prières? morbleu, mechante femme_, guarda -your breasta there: me make you die on my Morglay.[287] - - _Q. Dor._ God shield me, helpless princess and a wife, - And save my soul, although I lose my life! - [_They fight, and she is sore wounded._ - Ah, I am slain! some piteous power repay - This murderer's cursèd deed, that doth me slay! - -_Jaq. Elle est tout morte._ Me will run _pour_ a wager, for fear me -be _surpris_ and _pendu_ for my labour. _Bien, je m'en allerai au roi -lui dire mes affaires. Je serai un chevalier_ for this day's travail. -[_Exit._ - - [_Re-enter_ NANO, _with_ SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON, _his sword drawn, and_ - Servants. - -_Sir Cuth._ Where is this poor distressèd gentleman? - - _Nano._ Here laid on ground, and wounded to the death. - Ah, gentle heart, how are these beauteous looks - Dimm'd by the tyrant cruelties of death! - O weary soul, break thou from forth my breast, - And join thee with the soul I honour'd most! - - _Sir Cuth._ Leave mourning, friend, the man is yet alive. - Some help me to convey him to my house: - There will I see him carefully recur'd, - And send privy search to catch the murderer. - -_Nano._ The God of heaven reward thee, courteous knight! -[_Exeunt, bearing out_ QUEEN DOROTHEA. - - -SCENE V.--_Another part of the Forest._ - - _Enter the_ KING OF SCOTS, JAQUES, ATEUKIN, ANDREW; JAQUES _running - with his sword one way, the_ King _with his_ train _another way._ - - _K. of Scots._ Stay, Jaques, fear not, sheath thy murdering blade: - Lo, here thy king and friends are come abroad - To save thee from the terrors of pursuit. - What, is she dead? - -_Jaq. Oui, Monsieur, elle_ is _blessée par la tête_ over _les épaules_: -I warrant, she no trouble you. - - _Ateu._ O, then, my liege, how happy art thou grown, - How favour'd of the heavens, and blest by love! - Methinks I see fair Ida in thine arms, - Craving remission for her late contempt; - Methinks I see her blushing steal a kiss, - Uniting both your souls by such a sweet; - And you, my king, suck nectar from her lips. - Why, then, delays your grace to gain the rest - You long desir'd? why lose we forward time? - Write, make me spokesman now, vow marriage: - If she deny you favour, let me die. - -_And._ Mighty and magnificent potentate, give credence to mine -honourable good lord, for I heard the midwife swear at his nativity -that the fairies gave him the property of the Thracian stone; for -who toucheth it is exempted from grief, and he that heareth my -master's counsel is already possessed of happiness; nay, which is more -miraculous, as the nobleman in his infancy lay in his cradle, a swarm -of bees laid honey on his lips in token of his eloquence, for _melle -dulcior fluit oratio_. - -_Ateu._ Your grace must bear with imperfections: -This is exceeding love that makes him speak. - - _K. of Scots._ Ateukin, I am ravish'd in conceit, - And yet depress'd again with earnest thoughts. - Methinks, this murder soundeth in mine ear - A threatening noise of dire and sharp revenge: - I am incens'd with grief, yet fain would joy. - What may I do to end me of these doubts? - - _Ateu._ Why, prince, it is no murder in a king - To end another's life to save his own: - For you are not as common people be, - Who die and perish with a few men's tears; - But if you fail, the state doth whole default, - The realm is rent in twain in such a loss. - And Aristotle holdeth this for true, - Of evils needs we must choose the least: - Then better were it, that a woman died - Than all the help of Scotland should be blent. - 'Tis policy, my liege, in every state, - To cut off members that disturb the head: - And by corruption generation grows, - And contraries maintain the world and state. - - _K. of Scots._ Enough, I am confirm'd. Ateukin, come, - Rid me of love, and rid me of my grief; - Drive thou the tyrant from this tainted breast, - Then may I triumph in the height of joy. - Go to mine Ida, tell her that I vow - To raise her head, and make her honours great: - Go to mine Ida, tell her that her hairs - Shall be embellishèd with orient pearls, - And crowns of sapphires compassing her brows, - Shall war with those sweet beauties of her eyes: - Go to mine Ida, tell her that my soul - Shall keep her semblance closèd in my breast; - And I, in touching of her milk-white mould, - Will think me deified in such a grace. - I like no stay: go write, and I will sign: - Reward me Jaques; give him store of crowns. - And, Sirrah Andrew, scout thou here in court, - And bring me tidings, if thou canst perceive - The least intent of muttering in my train; - For either those that wrong thy lord or thee - Shall suffer death. - - _Ateu._ How much, O mighty king, - Is thy Ateukin bound to honour thee!-- - Bow thee, Andrew, bend thine sturdy knees; - Seest thou not here thine only God on earth? - [_Exit the_ KING. - - _Jaq. Mais où est mon argent, seigneur?_ - - _Ateu._ Come, follow me. His grace, I see, is mad,[288] - That thus on sudden he hath left us here.-- - Come, Jaques: we will have our packet soon despatch'd, - And you shall be my mate upon the way. - - _Jaq. Comme vous plaira, monsieur._ - [_Exeunt_ ATEUKIN _and_ JAQUES. - - _And._ Was never such a world, I think, before, - When sinners seem to dance within a net; - The flatterer and the murderer, they grow big; - By hook or crook promotion now is sought. - In such a world, where men are so misled, - What should I do, but, as the proverb saith, - Run with the hare, and hunt with the hound? - To have two means beseems a witty man. - Now here in court I may aspire and climb - By subtlety, for my master's death: - And, if that fail, well fare another drift; - I will, in secret, certain letters send - Unto the English king, and let him know - The order of his daughter's overthrow, - That, if my master crack his credit here, - As I am sure long flattery cannot hold, - I may have means within the English court - To 'scape the scourge that waits on bad advice. - [_Exit._ - - -CHORUS - - _Enter_ BOHAN _and_ OBERON. - - _Ober._ Believe me, bonny Scot, these strange events - Are passing pleasing; may they end as well. - - _Boh._ Else say that Bohan hath a barren skull, - If better motions yet than any past - Do not, more glee to make, the fairy greet. - But my small son made pretty handsome shift - To save the queen his mistress, by his speed. - - _Ober._ Yea, and yon laddie, for his sport he made, - Shall see, when least he hopes, I'll stand his friend, - Or else he capers in a halter's end. - - _Boh._ What, hang my son! I trow not, Oberon: - I'll rather die than see him woebegone. - - _Enter a round, or some dance, at pleasure._ - - _Ober._ Bohan, be pleas'd, for, do they what they will, - Here is my hand, I'll save thy son from ill. - [_Exeunt._ - - - - -ACT THE FIFTH - - -SCENE I._--Castle of_ SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON. - - _Enter_ QUEEN DOROTHEA _in man's apparel and in a nightgown,_ LADY - ANDERSON, _and_ NANO; _and_ SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON _behind_. - -_Lady And._ My gentle friend, beware, in taking air, -Your walks grow not offensive to your wounds. - -_Q. Dor._ Madam, I thank you of your courteous care: -My wounds are well-nigh clos'd, though sore they are. - -_Lady And._ Methinks these closèd wounds should breed more grief, -Since open wounds have cure, and find relief. - -_Q. Dor._ Madam, if undiscover'd wounds you mean, -They are not cur'd, because they are not seen. - -_Lady And._ I mean the wounds which do the heart subdue. - -_Nano._ O, that is love: Madam, speak I not true? -[SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON _overhears._ - -_Lady And._ Say it were true, what salve for such a sore? - -_Nano._ Be wise, and shut such neighbours out of door. - -_Lady And._ How if I cannot drive him from my breast? - -_Nano._ Then chain him well, and let him do his best. - -_Sir Cuth._ [_aside_]. In ripping up their wounds, I see their wit; -But if these wounds be cur'd, I sorrow it. - - _Q. Dor._ Why are you so intentive to behold - My pale and woful looks, by care controll'd? - - _Lady And._ Because in them a ready way is found - To cure my care and heal my hidden wound. - - _Nano._ Good master, shut your eyes, keep that conceit; - Surgeons give coin to get a good receipt. - - _Q. Dor._ Peace, wanton son; this lady did amend - My wounds; mine eyes her hidden griefs shall end. - - _Nano._ Look not too much, it is a weighty case - Whereas a man puts on a maiden's face; - For many times, if ladies 'ware them not, - A nine months' wound, with little work is got. - -_Sir Cuth._ [_aside_]. I'll break off their dispute, lest love proceed -From covert smiles, to perfect love indeed. -[_Comes forward._ - -_Nano._ The cat's abroad, stir not, the mice be still. - -_Lady And._ Tut, we can fly such cats, when so we will. - - _Sir Cuth._ How fares my guest? take cheer, naught shall default, - That either doth concern your health or joy: - Use me; my house, and what is mine is yours. - - _Q. Dor._ Thanks, gentle knight; and, if all hopes be true, - I hope ere long to do as much for you. - - _Sir Cuth._ Your virtue doth acquit me of that doubt: - But, courteous sir, since troubles call me hence, - I must to Edinburgh unto the king, - There to take charge, and wait him in his wars.-- - Meanwhile, good madam, take this squire in charge, - And use him so as if it were myself. - - _Lady And._ Sir Cuthbert, doubt not of my diligence: - Meanwhile, till your return, God send you health. - - _Q. Dor._ God bless his grace, and, if his cause be just, - Prosper his wars; if not, he'll mend, I trust. - Good sir, what moves the king to fall to arms? - - _Sir Cuth._ The King of England forageth his land, - And hath besieg'd Dunbar with mighty force. - What other news are common in the court. - Read you these letters, madam; - [_giving letters to_ LADY ANDERSON] - tell the squire - The whole affairs of state, for I must hence. - -_Q. Dor._ God prosper you, and bring you back from thence! -[_Exit_ SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON. -Madam, what news? - -_Lady And._ They say the queen is slain. - -_Q. Dor._ Tut, such reports more false than truth contain. - -_Lady And._ But these reports have made his nobles leave him. - -_Q. Dor._ Ah, careless men, and would they so deceive him? - - _Lady And._ The land is spoil'd, the commons fear the cross; - All cry against the king, their cause of loss: - The English king subdues and conquers all. - - _Q. Dor._ Alas, this war grows great on causes small! - - _Lady And._ Our court is desolate, our prince alone, - Still dreading death. - - _Q. Dor._ Woe's me, for him I mourn! - Help, now help, a sudden qualm - Assails my heart! - - _Nano._ Good madam, stand his friend: - Give us some liquor to refresh his heart. - - _Lady And._ Daw thou him up,[289] and I will fetch thee forth - Potions of comfort, to repress his pain. [_Exit._ - - _Nano._ Fie, princess, faint on every fond report! - How well-nigh had you open'd your estate! - Cover these sorrows with the veil of joy, - And hope the best; for why this war will cause - A great repentance in your husband's mind. - - _Q. Dor._ Ah, Nano, trees live not without their sap, - And Clytie cannot blush but on the sun; - The thirsty earth is broke with many a gap, - And lands are lean where rivers do not run: - Where soul is reft from that it loveth best, - How can it thrive or boast of quiet rest? - Thou know'st the prince's loss must be my death, - His grief, my grief; his mischief must be mine. - O, if thou love me, Nano, hie to court! - Tell Ross, tell Bartram, that I am alive; - Conceal thou yet the place of my abode: - Will them, even as they love their queen, - As they are chary of my soul and joy, - To guard the king, to serve him as my lord. - Haste thee, good Nano, for my husband's care - Consumeth me, and wounds me to the heart. - - _Nano._ Madam, I go, yet loth to leave you here. - - _Q. Dor._ Go thou with speed: even as thou hold'st me dear, - Return in haste. [_Exit_ NANO. - - _Re-enter_ LADY ANDERSON. - - _Lady And._ Now, sir, what cheer? come taste this broth I bring. - - _Q. Dor._ My grief is past, I feel no further sting. - - _Lady And._ Where is your dwarf? why hath he left you, sir? - - _Q. Dor._ For some affairs: he is not travell'd far. - - _Lady And._ If so you please, come in and take your rest. - - _Q. Dor._ Fear keeps awake a discontented breast. - [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE II.--_Porch to the Castle of the_ COUNTESS OF ARRAN. - - _After a solemn service, enter from the_ COUNTESS OF ARRAN'S _house - a service, with musical songs of marriages, or a mask, or pretty - triumph: to them_ ATEUKIN _and_ JAQUES. - -_Ateu._ What means this triumph, friend? why are these feasts? - - _First Revel._ Fair Ida, sir, was married yesterday - Unto Sir Eustace, and for that intent - We feast and sport it thus to honour them: - An, if you please, come in and take your part; - My lady is no niggard of her cheer. - [_Exeunt_ Revellers. - -_Jaq. Monseigneur_, why be you so sadda? _faites bonne chere: foutre de -ce monde!_ - - _Ateu._ What, was I born to be the scorn of kin? - To gather feathers like to a hopper-crow, - And lose them in the height of all my pomp? - Accursèd man, now is my credit lost! - Where are my vows I made unto the king? - What shall become of me, if he shall hear - That I have caus'd him kill a virtuous queen, - And hope in vain for that which now is lost? - Where shall I hide my head? I know the heavens - Are just and will revenge; I know my sins - Exceed compare. Should I proceed in this, - This Eustace must amain be made away. - O, were I dead, how happy should I be! - -_Jaq. Est ce donc à tel point votre etat?_ faith, then adieu, Scotland, -adieu, Signior Ateukin: me will homa to France, and no be hanged in a -strange country. [_Exit._ - - _Ateu._ Thou dost me good to leave me thus alone, - That galling grief and I may yoke in one. - O, what are subtle means to climb on high, - When every fall swarms with exceeding shame? - I promis'd Ida's love unto the prince, - But she is lost, and I am false forsworn. - I practis'd Dorothea's hapless death, - And by this practice have commenc'd a war. - O cursèd race of men, that traffic guile, - And, in the end, themselves and kings beguile! - Asham'd to look upon my prince again, - Asham'd of my suggestions and advice, - Asham'd of life, asham'd that I have err'd, - I'll hide myself, expecting for[290] my shame. - Thus God doth work with those that purchase fame - By flattery, and make their prince their game. [_Exit._ - - -SCENE III.--_The English Camp before Dunbar._ - - _Enter the_ KING OF ENGLAND, LORD PERCY, SAMLES, _and others._ - - _K. of Eng._[291] Thus far, ye English peers, have we display'd - Our waving ensigns with a happy war; - Thus nearly hath our furious rage reveng'd - My daughter's death upon the traitorous Scot. - And now before Dunbar our camp is pitch'd; - Which, if it yield not to our compromise, - The plough shall furrow where the palace stood, - And fury shall enjoy so high a power - That mercy shall be banish'd from our swords. - - _Enter_ DOUGLAS _and others on the walls._ - - _Doug._ What seeks the English king? - - _K. of Eng._ Scot, open those gates, and let me enter in: - Submit thyself and thine unto my grace, - Or I will put each mother's son to death, - And lay this city level with the ground. - - _Doug._ For what offence, for what default of ours, - Art thou incens'd so sore against our state? - Can generous hearts in nature be so stern - To prey on those that never did offend? - What though the lion, king of brutish race, - Through outrage sin, shall lambs be therefore slain? - Or is it lawful that the humble die - Because the mighty do gainsay the right? - O English king, thou bearest in thy crest - The king of beasts, that harms not yielding ones: - The roseal cross is spread within thy field, - A sign of peace, not of revenging war. - Be gracious, then, unto this little town; - And, though we have withstood thee for awhile - To show allegiance to our liefest liege, - Yet, since we know no hope of any help, - Take us to mercy, for we yield ourselves. - - _K. of Eng._ What, shall I enter, then, and be your lord? - - _Doug._ We will submit us to the English king. - [_They descend, open the gates, and humble themselves_. - - _K. of Eng._ Now life and death dependeth on my sword: - This hand now rear'd, my Douglas, if I list, - Could part thy head and shoulders both in twain; - But, since I see thee wise and old in years, - True to thy king, and faithful in his wars, - Live thou and thine. Dunbar is too-too small - To give an entrance to the English king: - I, eagle-like, disdain these little fowls, - And look on none but those that dare resist. - Enter your town, as those that live by me: - For others that resist, kill, forage, spoil. - Mine English soldiers, as you love your king, - Revenge his daughter's death, and do me right. - [_Exeunt_. - - -SCENE IV.--_Near the Scottish Camp._ - - _Enter a_ Lawyer, _a_ Merchant, _and a_ Divine. - - _Law._ My friends, what think you of this present state? - Were ever seen such changes in a time? - The manners and the fashions of this age - Are, like the ermine-skin, so full of spots, - As sooner may the Moor be washèd white - Than these corruptions banish'd from this realm. - - _Merch._ What sees Mas Lawyer in this state amiss? - - _Law._ A wresting power that makes a nose of wax - Of grounded law, a damn'd and subtle drift - In all estates to climb by others' loss; - An eager thirst of wealth, forgetting truth. - Might I ascend unto the highest states, - And by descent discover every crime, - My friends, I should lament, and you would grieve - To see the hapless ruins of this realm. - - _Div._ O lawyer, thou hast curious eyes to pry - Into the secret maims of their estate; - But if thy veil of error were unmask'd, - Thyself should see your sect do maim her most. - Are you not those that should maintain the peace, - Yet only are the patrons of our strife? - If your profession have his ground and spring - First from the laws of God, then country's right, - Not any ways inverting nature's power, - Why thrive you by contentions? why devise you - Clauses, and subtle reasons to except? - Our state was first, before you grew so great, - A lantern to the world for unity: - Now they that are befriended and are rich - Oppress the poor: come Homer without coin, - He is not heard. What shall we term this drift? - To say the poor man's cause is good and just, - And yet the rich man gains the best in law? - It is your guise (the more the world laments) - To coin provisos to beguile your laws; - To make a gay pretext of due proceeding, - When you delay your common-pleas for years. - Mark what these dealings lately here have wrought: - The crafty men have purchas'd great men's lands; - They powl,[292] they pinch, their tenants are undone; - If these complain, by you they are undone; - You fleece them of their coin, their children beg, - And many want, because you may be rich: - This scar is mighty, Master Lawyer. - Now war hath gotten head within this land, - Mark but the guise. The poor man that is wrong'd - Is ready to rebel; he spoils, he pills; - We need no foes to forage that we have: - The law, say they, in peace consumèd us, - And now in war we will consume the law. - Look to this mischief, lawyers: conscience knows - You live amiss; amend it, lest you end! - - _Law._ Good Lord, that these divines should see so far - In others' faults, without amending theirs! - Sir, sir, the general defaults in state - (If you would read before you did correct) - Are, by a hidden working from above, - By their successive changes still remov'd. - Were not the law by contraries maintain'd, - How could the truth from falsehood be discern'd? - Did we not taste the bitterness of war, - How could we know the sweet effects of peace? - Did we not feel the nipping winter-frosts, - How should we know the sweetness of the spring? - Should all things still remain in one estate, - Should not in greatest arts some scars be found? - Were all upright, nor chang'd, what world were this? - A chaos, made of quiet, yet no world, - Because the parts thereof did still accord: - This matter craves a variance, not a speech. - But, Sir Divine, to you: look on your maims, - Divisions, sects, your simonies, and bribes, - Your cloaking with the great for fear to fall,-- - You shall perceive you are the cause of all. - Did each man know there was a storm at hand, - Who would not clothe him well, to shun the wet? - Did prince and peer, the lawyer and the least, - Know what were sin, without a partial gloss, - We'd need no long discovery then of crimes, - For each would mend, advis'd by holy men. - Thus [I] but slightly shadow out your sins; - But, if they were depainted out of life, - Alas, we both had wounds enough to heal! - - _Merch._ None of you both, I see, but are in fault; - Thus simple men, as I, do swallow flies. - This grave divine can tell us what to do; - But we may say, "Physician, mend thyself." - This lawyer hath a pregnant wit to talk; - But all are words, I see no deeds of worth. - - _Law._ Good merchant, lay your fingers on your mouth; - Be not a blab, for fear you bite yourself. - What should I term your state, but even the way - To every ruin in this commonweal? - You bring us in the means of all excess, - You rate it and retail it as you please; - You swear, forswear, and all to compass wealth; - Your money is your god, your hoard your heaven; - You are the groundwork of contention. - First, heedless youth by you is over-reach'd; - We are corrupted by your many crowns: - The gentlemen, whose titles you have bought, - Lose all their fathers' toil within a day, - Whilst Hob your son, and Sib your nutbrown child, - Are gentlefolks, and gentles are beguil'd. - This makes so many noble minds to stray, - And take sinister courses in the state. - - _Enter a_ Scout. - - _Scout._ My friends, be gone, an if you love your lives! - The King of England marcheth here at hand: - Enter the camp, for fear you be surpris'd. - - _Div._ Thanks, gentle scout,--God mend that is amiss, - And place true zeal whereas corruption is! [_Exeunt_. - - -SCENE V.--_Castle of_ SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON. - - _Enter_ QUEEN DOROTHEA _in man's apparel,_ LADY ANDERSON, _and_ NANO. - -_Q. Dor._ What news in court, Nano? let us know it. - - _Nano._ If so you please, my lord, I straight will show it: - The English king hath all the borders spoil'd, - Hath taken Morton prisoner, and hath slain - Seven thousand Scottish lads not far from Tweed. - - _Q. Dor._ A woful murder and a bloody deed! - - _Nano._ The king, our liege, hath sought by many means - For to appease his enemy by prayers: - Naught will prevail unless he can restore - Fair Dorothea, long supposèd dead: - To this intent he hath proclaimèd late, - That whosoe'er return the queen to court - Shall have a thousand marks for his reward. - - _Lady And._ He loves her, then, I see, although enforc'd, - That would bestow such gifts for to regain her. - Why sit you sad, good sir? be not dismay'd. - - _Nano._ I'll lay my life, this man would be a maid. - - _Q. Dor._ [_aside to Nano_]. Fain would I show myself, and change my tire. - - _Lady And._ Whereon divine you, sir? - - _Nano._ Upon desire. - Madam, mark but my skill. I'll lay my life, - My master here, will prove a married wife. - - _Q. Dor._ [_aside to Nano_]. Wilt thou bewray me, Nano? - - _Nano._ [_aside to Dor._]. Madam, no: - You are a man, and like a man you go: - But I, that am in speculation seen,[293] - Know you would change your state to be a queen. - - _Q. Dor._ [_aside to Nano_]. - Thou art not, dwarf, to learn thy mistress' mind: - Fain would I with thyself disclose my kind, - But yet I blush. - - _Nano._ [_aside to Dor._]. What? blush you, madam, than,[294] - To be yourself, who are a feignèd man?[295] - - _Lady And._ Deceitful beauty, hast thou scorn'd me so? - - _Nano._ Nay, muse not, madam, for he tells you true. - - _Lady And._ Beauty bred love, and love hath bred my shame. - - _Nano._ And women's faces work more wrongs than these: - Take comfort, madam, to cure your disease. - And yet he loves a man as well as you, - Only this difference, he cannot fancy two. - - _Lady And._ Blush, grieve, and die in thine insatiate lust. - - _Q. Dor._ Nay, live, and joy that thou hast won a friend, - That loves thee as his life by good desert. - - _Lady And._ I joy, my lord, more than my tongue can tell: - Though not as I desir'd, I love you well. - But modesty, that never blush'd before, - Discover my false heart: I say no more. - Let me alone. - - _Q. Dor._ Good Nano, stay awhile. - Were I not sad, how kindly could I smile, - To see how fain I am to leave this weed! - And yet I faint to show myself indeed: - But danger hates delay; I will be bold.-- - Fair lady, I am not [as you] suppose, - A man, but even that queen, more hapless I, - Whom Scottish king appointed hath to die; - I am the hapless princess, for whose right, - These kings in bloody wars revenge despite; - I am that Dorothea whom they seek, - Yours bounden for your kindness and relief; - And, since you are the means that save my life, - Yourself and I will to the camp repair, - Whereas your husband shall enjoy reward, - And bring me to his highness once again. - - _Lady And._ Pardon, most gracious princess, if you please, - My rude discourse and homely entertain; - And, if my words may savour any worth, - Vouchsafe my counsel in this weighty cause: - Since that our liege hath so unkindly dealt, - Give him no trust, return unto your sire; - There may you safely live in spite of him. - - _Q. Dor._ Ah lady, so would worldly counsel work; - But constancy, obedience, and my love, - In that my husband is my lord and chief, - These call me to compassion of his state: - Dissuade me not, for virtue will not change. - - _Lady And._ What wondrous constancy is this I hear! - If English dames their husbands love so dear, - I fear me in the world they have no peer. - - _Nano._ Come, princess, wend, and let us change your weed: - I long to see you now a queen indeed. [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE VI.--_Camp of the_ KING OF SCOTS. - - _Enter the_ KING OF SCOTS, _the_ English Herald, _and_ Lords. - - _K. of Scots._ He would have parley, lords. Herald, say he shall, - And get thee gone. Go, leave me to myself. - [_Exit_ Herald.--_Lords retire._ - 'Twixt love and fear, continual is the war; - The one assures me of my Ida's love, - The other moves me for my murder'd queen: - Thus find I grief of that whereon I joy, - And doubt in greatest hope, and death in weal. - Alas, what hell may be compar'd with mine, - Since in extremes my comforts do consist! - War then will cease, when dead ones are reviv'd; - Some then will yield when I am dead for hope.-- - Who doth disturb me? - - _Enter_ ANDREW _and_ SLIPPER. - - Andrew? - - _And._ Ay, my liege. - - _K. of Scots._ What news? - - _And._ I think my mouth was made at first - To tell these tragic tales, my liefest lord. - - _K. of Scots._ What, is Ateukin dead? tell me the worst. - - _And._ No, but your Ida--shall I tell him all?-- - Is married late--ah, shall I say to whom?-- - My master sad--for why he shames the court-- - Is fled away; ah, most unhappy flight! - Only myself--ah, who can love you more!-- - To show my duty,--duty past belief,-- - Am come unto your grace, O gracious liege, - To let you know--O, would it were not thus!-- - That love is vain and maids soon lost and won. - - _K. of Scots._ How have the partial heavens, then, dealt with me, - Boding my weal, for to abase my power! - Alas, what thronging thoughts do me oppress! - Injurious love is partial in my right, - And flattering tongues, by whom I was misled, - Have laid a snare, to spoil my state and me. - Methinks I hear my Dorothea's ghost - Howling revenge for my accursèd hate: - The ghosts of those my subjects that are slain - Pursue me, crying out, "Woe, woe to lust!" - The foe pursues me at my palace-door, - He breaks my rest, and spoils me in my camp. - Ah, flattering brood of sycophants, my foes! - First shall my dire revenge begin on you.-- - I will reward thee, Andrew. - -_Slip._ Nay, sir, if you be in your deeds of charity, remember me. I -rubbed Master Ateukin's horse-heels when he rid to the meadows. - - _K. of Scots._ And thou shalt have thy recompense for that.-- - Lords, bear them to the prison, chain them fast, - Until we take some order for their deaths. - [Lords _seize them._ - - _And._ If so your grace in such sort give rewards, - Let me have naught; I am content to want. - -_Slip._ Then, I pray, sir, give me all; I am as ready for a reward as -an oyster for a fresh tide; spare not me, sir. - -_K. of Scots._ Then hang them both as traitors to the king. - -_Slip._ The case is altered, sir: I'll none of your gifts. What, I take -a reward at your hands, master! faith, sir, no; I am a man of a better -conscience. - -_K. of Scots._ Why dally you? Go draw them hence away. - -_Slip._ Why, alas, sir, I will go away.--I thank you, gentle friends; I -pray you spare your pains: I will not trouble his honour's mastership; -I'll run away. - - _K. of Scots._ Why stay you? move me not. Let search be made - For vile Ateukin: whoso finds him out - Shall have five hundred marks for his reward. - Away with them, lords! - - _Enter_ OBERON _and_ Antics, _and carry away_ SLIPPER; _he makes - pots_[296] _and sports, and scorns._ ANDREW _is removed._ - - Troops, about my tent! - Let all our soldiers stand in battle 'ray; - For, lo, the English to their parley come. - - _March over bravely, first the English host, the sword carried before - the_ King _by_ PERCY; _the Scottish on the other side, with all their - pomp, bravely._ - -What seeks the King of England in this land? - - _K. of Eng._ False, traitorous Scot, I come for to revenge - My daughter's death; I come to spoil thy wealth, - Since thou hast spoil'd me of my marriage joy; - I come to heap thy land with carcases, - That this thy thirsty soil, chok'd up with blood, - May thunder forth revenge upon thy head; - I come to quit thy loveless love with death: - In brief, no means of peace shall e'er be found, - Except I have my daughter or thy head. - - _K. of Scots._ My head, proud king! abase thy pranking plumes: - So striving fondly, mayst thou catch thy grave. - But, if true judgment do direct thy course, - This lawful reason should divert the war: - Faith, not by my consent thy daughter died. - - _K. of Eng._ Thou liest, false Scot! thy agents have confess'd it. - These are but fond delays: thou canst not think - A means to reconcile me for thy friend. - I have thy parasite's confession penn'd; - What, then, canst thou allege in thy excuse? - - _K. of Scots._ I will repay the ransom for her blood. - - _K. of Eng._ What, think'st thou, caitiff, I will sell my child? - No; if thou be a prince and man-at-arms, - In single combat come and try thy right, - Else will I prove thee recreant to thy face. - - _K. of Scots._ I seek no combat, false injurious king. - But, since thou needless art inclin'd to war, - Do what thou dar'st; we are in open field: - Arming my battle, I will fight with thee. - - _K. of Eng._ Agreed.--Now trumpets, sound a dreadful charge. - Fight for your princess, brave Englishmen! - - _K. of Scots._ Now for your lands, your children, and your wives, - My Scottish peers, and lastly for your king! - - _Alarum sounded; both the battles offer to meet, and just as the kings - are joining battle, enter_ SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON _and_ LADY ANDERSON; - _with them enters_ QUEEN DOROTHEA, _richly attired, who stands - concealed, and_ NANO. - - _Sir Cuth._ Stay, princes, wage not war: a privy grudge - 'Twixt such as you, most high in majesty, - Afflicts both nocent and the innocent - How many swords, dear princes, see I drawn! - The friend against his friend, a deadly feud; - A desperate division in those lands - Which, if they join in one, command the world. - O, stay! with reason mitigate your rage; - And let an old man, humbled on his knees, - Entreat a boon, good princes, of you both. - - _K. of Eng._ I condescend, for why thy reverend years - Import some news of truth and consequence. - - _K. of Scots._ I am content, for, Anderson, I know - Thou art my subject and dost mean me good. - - _Sir Cuth._ But by your gracious favours grant me this, - To swear upon your swords to do me right. - - _K. of Eng._ See, by my sword, and by a prince's faith, - In every lawful sort I am thine own. - - _K. of Scots._ And, by my sceptre and the Scottish crown, - I am resolv'd to grant thee thy request. - - _Sir Cuth._ I see you trust me, princes, who repose - The weight of such a war upon my will. - Now mark my suit. A tender lion's whelp, - This other day, came straggling in the woods, - Attended by a young and tender hind, - In courage haught, yet 'tirèd like a lamb. - The prince of beasts had left this young in keep, - To foster up as love-mate and compeer, - Unto the lion's mate, a neighbour-friend: - This stately guide, seducèd by the fox, - Sent forth an eager wolf, bred up in France, - That gripp'd the tender whelp and wounded it. - By chance, as I was hunting in the woods, - I heard the moan the hind made for the whelp: - I took them both, and brought them to my house. - With chary care I have recur'd the one; - And since I know the lions are at strife - About the loss and damage of the young, - I bring her home; make claim to her who list. - [_Discovers_ QUEEN DOROTHEA. - - _Q. Dor._ I am the whelp, bred by this lion up, - This royal English king, my happy sire: - Poor Nano is the hind that tended me. - My father, Scottish king, gave me to thee, - A hapless wife: thou, quite misled by youth, - Hast sought sinister loves and foreign joys. - The fox Ateukin, cursèd parasite, - Incens'd your grace to send the wolf abroad, - The French-born Jaques, for to end my days: - He, traitorous man, pursu'd me in the woods, - And left me wounded; where this noble knight - Both rescu'd me and mine, and sav'd my life. - Now keep thy promise: Dorothea lives; - Give Anderson his due and just reward: - And since, you kings, your wars began by me, - Since I am safe, return, surcease your fight. - - _K. of Scots._ Durst I presume to look upon those eyes - Which I have tirèd with a world of woes? - Or did I think submission were enough, - Or sighs might make an entrance to thy soul, - You heavens, you know how willing I would weep; - You heavens can tell how glad I would submit; - You heavens can say how firmly I would sigh. - - _Q. Dor._ Shame me not, prince, companion in thy bed: - Youth hath misled,--tut, but a little fault: - 'Tis kingly to amend what is amiss. - Might I with twice as many pains as these - Unite our hearts, then should my wedded lord - See how incessant labours I would take.-- - My gracious father, govern your affects: - Give me that hand, that oft hath blest this head, - And clasp thine arms, that have embrac'd this [neck], - About the shoulders of my wedded spouse. - Ah, mighty prince, this king and I am one! - Spoil thou his subjects, thou despoilest me; - Touch thou his breast, thou dost attaint this heart: - O, be my father, then, in loving him! - - _K. of Eng._ Thou provident kind mother of increase, - Thou must prevail; ah, Nature, thou must rule! - Hold, daughter, join my hand and his in one; - I will embrace him for to favour thee: - I call him friend, and take him for my son. - - _Q. Dor._ Ah, royal husband, see what God hath wrought! - Thy foe is now thy friend.--Good men-at-arms, - Do you the like.--These nations if they join, - What monarch, with his liege-men, in this world, - Dare but encounter you in open field? - - _K. of Scots._ All wisdom, join'd with godly piety!-- - Thou English king, pardon my former youth; - And pardon, courteous queen, my great misdeed; - And, for assurance of mine after-life, - I take religious vows before my God, - To honour thee for father, her for wife. - - _Sir Cuth._ But yet my boons, good princes, are not pass'd. - First, English king, I humbly do request, - That by your means our princess may unite - Her love unto mine aldertruest love,[297] - Now you will love, maintain, and help them both. - - _K. of Eng._ Good Anderson, I grant thee thy request. - - _Sir Cuth._ But you, my prince, must yield me mickle more. - You know your nobles are your chiefest stays, - And long time have been banish'd from your court: - Embrace and reconcile them to yourself; - They are your hands, whereby you ought to work. - As for Ateukin and his lewd compeers, - That sooth'd you in your sins and youthly pomp, - Exile, torment, and punish such as they; - For greater vipers never may be found - Within a state than such aspiring heads, - That reck not how they climb, so that they climb. - - _K. of Scots._ Guid knight, I grant thy suit.--First I submit, - And humbly crave a pardon of your grace:-- - Next, courteous queen, I pray thee by thy loves - Forgive mine errors past, and pardon me.-- - My lords and princes, if I have misdone - (As I have wrong'd indeed both you and yours), - Hereafter, trust me, you are dear to me. - As for Ateukin, whoso finds the man, - Let him have martial law, and straight be hang'd, - As all his vain abettors now are dead. - And Anderson our treasurer shall pay - Three thousand marks for friendly recompense. - - _Nano._ But, princes, whilst you friend it thus in one, - Methinks of friendship Nano shall have none. - - _Q. Dor._ What would my dwarf, that I will not bestow? - - _Nano._ My boon, fair queen, is this,--that you would go: - Although my body is but small and neat, - My stomach, after toil, requireth meat: - An easy suit, dread princess; will you wend? - - _K. of Scots._ Art thou a pigmy-born, my pretty friend? - - _Nano._ Not so, great king, but Nature, when she fram'd me, - Was scant of earth, and Nano therefore nam'd me; - And, when she saw my body was so small, - She gave me wit to make it big withal. - - _K. of Scots._ Till time when-- - - _Q. Dor._ Eat, then. - - _K. of Scots._ My friend, it stands with wit - To take repast when stomach serveth it. - - _Q. Dor._[298] Thy policy, my Nano, shall prevail.-- - Come, royal father, enter we my tent:-- - And, soldiers, feast it, frolic it, like friends:-- - My princes, bid this kind and courteous train - Partake some favours of our late accord. - Thus wars have end, and, after dreadful hate, - Men learn at last to know their good estate. - [_Exeunt omnes._ - - - - -GEORGE-A-GREENE, THE PINNER OF WAKEFIELD - - -The first Quarto of _George-a-Greene_ was printed in 1599 by Simon -Stafford for Cuthbert Burby. It had been entered by Burby on the -Stationers' Registers four years earlier, 1st April 1595, as an -interlude. Henslowe's first notice of the play occurs for 29th December -1593, at which date it was performed by Sussex' men at the Rose, these -players possibly having secured the play from the Queen's players. -Henslowe records five performances between 29th December 1593 and 22nd -January 1594, sometimes under the major title, and sometimes under the -title _The Pinner of Wakefield_. The play was reprinted in Dodsley's -_Old Plays_ in 1744. Neither on the title-page, nor on the Stationers' -Registers, nor by Henslowe, is the name of the author mentioned. For -long it was supposed that the play was by John Heywood. It was finally -assigned to Greene through the discovery by Collier of a copy of the -Quarto of 1599 with the following notes on the title-page:-- - - "Written by ... a minister who act[ed] th[e] pinners pt in it - himselfe. Teste W. Shakespea[re]. - Ed. Juby saith that ye play was made by Ro. Gree[ne]." - -These notes are in different hands, and as against the adverse -testimony of internal structure, their evidence in favour of Greene's -authorship is of slight weight. With the exception of the episode -of the King of Scotland and Jane a' Barley the play is founded on a -romance, _The Famous History of George-a-Greene_, etc., first printed -in 1706 by an editor, N. W., from a MS. now in Sion College. Whether -there was a printed Elizabethan version, or the author of the play used -the MS., it is now impossible to say. The romance is now reprinted in -Thoms' _Early English Prose Romances_, Vol. II. In the Bodleian Library -there is a black-letter romance of 1632, treating the same subject, but -its story is evidently not the basis of the play. The Quarto of the -play, which is owned by the Duke of Devonshire, is very poorly printed, -and many scenes have been curtailed. - - - - -DRAMATIS PERSONÆ - -EDWARD, King of England. - -JAMES, King of Scotland. - -EARL OF KENDAL. - -EARL OF WARWICK. - -LORD BONFIELD. - -LORD HUMES. - -SIR GILBERT ARMSTRONG. - -SIR NICHOLAS MANNERING. - -GEORGE-A-GREENE. - -MUSGROVE. - -CUDDY, his son. - -NED-A-BARLEY. - -GRIME. - -ROBIN HOOD. - -MUCH, the Miller's son. - -SCARLET. - -JENKIN, George-a-Greene's man. - -WILY, George-a-Greene's boy. - -JOHN. - -Justice. - -Townsmen, Shoemakers, Soldiers, Messengers, etc. - -JANE-A-BARLEY - -BETTRIS, daughter to Grime. - -MAID MARIAN. - - - - -_GEORGE-A-GREENE, THE PINNER[299] OF WAKEFIELD_ - - -ACT THE FIRST - - -SCENE I.--_At Bradford._ - - _Enter the_ EARL OF KENDAL; _with him_ LORD BONFIELD, SIR GILBERT - ARMSTRONG, SIR NICHOLAS MANNERING, _and_ JOHN. - - _Ken._ Welcome to Bradford, martial gentlemen, - Lord Bonfield, and Sir Gilbert Armstrong both; - And all my troops, even to my basest groom, - Courage and welcome! for the day is ours. - Our cause is good, 'tis for the land's avail: - Then let us fight, and die for England's good. - - _All._ We will, my lord. - - _Ken._ As I am Henry Momford, Kendal's earl, - You honour me with this assent of yours; - And here upon my sword I make protest - For to relieve the poor or die myself. - And know, my lords, that James, the King of Scots, - Wars hard upon the borders of this land: - Here is his post.--Say, John Taylor, what news with King James? - -_John._ War, my lord, [I] tell, and good news, I trow; for King Jamy -vows to meet you the twenty-sixth of this month, God willing; marry, -doth he, sir. - - _Ken._ My friends, you see what we have to win.-- - Well, John, commend me to King James, and tell him, - I will meet him the twenty-sixth of this month, - And all the rest; and so, farewell. [_Exit_ JOHN. - Bonfield, why stand'st thou as a man in dumps? - Courage! for, if I win, I'll make thee duke: - I, Henry Momford will be king myself; - And I will make thee Duke of Lancaster, - And Gilbert Armstrong Lord of Doncaster. - - _Bon._ Nothing, my lord, makes me amaz'd at all, - But that our soldiers find our victuals scant. - We must make havoc of those country-swains; - For so will the rest tremble and be afraid, - And humbly send provision to your camp. - - _Arm._ My Lord Bonfield gives good advice: - They make a scorn, and stand upon the king; - So what is brought is sent from them perforce; - Ask Mannering else. - - _Ken._ What say'st thou, Mannering? - - _Man._ Whenas I show'd your high commission, - They made this answer, - Only to send provision for your horses. - - _Ken._ Well, hie thee to Wakefield, bid the town - To send me all provision that I want, - Lest I, like martial Tamburlaine, lay waste - Their bordering countries, and leaving none alive - That contradicts my commission. - - _Man._ Let me alone; - My lord, I'll make them vail[300] their plumes; - For whatsoe'er he be, the proudest knight, - Justice, or other, that gainsay'th your word, - I'll clap him fast, to make the rest to fear. - - _Ken._ Do so, Nick: hie thee thither presently, - And let us hear of thee again to-morrow. - - _Man._ Will you not remove, my lord? - - _Ken._ No, I will lie at Bradford all this night - And all the next.--Come, Bonfield, let us go, - And listen out some bonny lasses here. [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE II.--_At Wakefield._ - - _Enter the_ Justice, Townsmen, GEORGE-A-GREENE, _and_ SIR NICHOLAS - MANNERING _with his commission._ - -_Jus._ Master Mannering, stand aside, whilst we confer - What is best to do.--Townsmen of Wakefield, - The Earl of Kendal here hath sent for victuals; - And in aiding him we show ourselves no less - Than traitors to the king; therefore - Let me hear, townsmen, what is your consents. - - _First Towns._ Even as you please, we are all content. - - _Jus._ Then, Master Mannering, we are resolv'd-- - - _Man._ As how? - - _Jus._ Marry, sir, thus. - We will send the Earl of Kendal no victuals, - Because he is a traitor to the king; - And in aiding him we show ourselves no less. - - _Man._ Why, men of Wakefield, are you waxen mad, - That present danger cannot whet your wits, - Wisely to make provision of yourselves? - The earl is thirty thousand men strong in power, - And what town soever him resist, - He lays it flat and level with the ground. - Ye silly men, you seek your own decay: - Therefore send my lord such provision as he wants, - So he will spare your town, - And come no nearer Wakefield than he is. - - _Jus._ Master Mannering, you have your answer; you may be gone. - - _Man._ Well, Woodroffe, for so I guess is thy name, - I'll make thee curse thy overthwart denial; - And all that sit upon the bench this day shall rue - The hour they have withstood my lord's commission. - - _Jus._ Do thy worst, we fear thee not. - - _Man._ See you these seals? before you pass the town, - I will have all things my lord doth want, - In spite of you. - - _Geo._ Proud dapper Jack, vail bonnet to the bench - That represents the person of the king; - Or, sirrah, I'll lay thy head before thy feet. - - _Man._ Why, who art thou? - - _Geo._ Why, I am George-a-Greene, - True liege-man to my king, - Who scorns that men of such esteem as these - Should brook the braves of any traitorous squire. - You of the bench, and you, my fellow-friends, - Neighbours, we subjects all unto the king; - We are English born, and therefore Edward's friends. - Vow'd unto him even in our mothers' womb, - Our minds to God, our hearts unto our king: - Our wealth, our homage, and our carcases, - Be all King Edward's. Then, sirrah, we - Have nothing left for traitors, but our swords, - Whetted to bathe them in your bloods, and die - 'Gainst you, before we send you any victuals. - - _Jus._ Well spoken, George-a-Greene! - - _First Towns._ Pray let George-a-Greene speak for us. - - _Geo._ Sirrah, you get no victuals here, - Not if a hoof of beef would save your lives. - - _Man._ Fellow, I stand amaz'd at thy presumption. - Why, what art thou that dar'st gainsay my lord, - Knowing his mighty puissance and his stroke? - Why, my friend, I come not barely of myself; - For, see, I have a large commission. - - _Geo._ Let me see it, sirrah [_Takes the commission_]. - Whose seals be these? - - _Man._ This is the Earl of Kendal's seal-at-arms; - This Lord Charnel Bonfield's; - And this Sir Gilbert Armstrong's. - - _Geo._ I tell thee, sirrah, did good King Edward's son - Seal a commission 'gainst the king his father, - Thus would I tear it in despite of him, - [_Tears the commission._ - Being traitor to my sovereign. - - _Man._ What, hast thou torn my lord's commission? - Thou shalt rue it, and so shall all Wakefield. - - _Geo._ What, are you in choler? I will give you pills - To cool your stomach. Seest thou these seals? - Now, by my father's soul, - Which was a yeoman when he was alive, - Eat them, or eat my dagger's point, proud squire. - - _Man._ But thou dost but jest, I hope. - - _Geo._ Sure that shall you see before we two part. - - _Man._ Well, an there be no remedy, so, George: - [_Swallows one of the seals._ - One is gone; I pray thee, no more now. - - _Geo._ O, sir, if one be good, the others cannot hurt. - [MANNERING _swallows the other two seals._ - So, sir; now you may go tell the Earl of Kendal, - Although I have rent his large commission, - Yet of courtesy I have sent all his seals - Back again by you. - - _Man._ Well, sir, I will do your errand. [_Exit._ - - _Geo._ Now let him tell his lord that he hath spoke - With George-a-Greene, - Hight Pinner of merry Wakefield town, - That hath physic for a fool, - Pills for a traitor that doth wrong his sovereign. - Are you content with this that I have done? - - _Jus._ Ay, content, George; - For highly hast thou honour'd Wakefield town - In cutting off proud Mannering so short. - Come, thou shalt be my welcome guest to-day; - For well thou hast deserv'd reward and favour. - [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE III.--_In Westmoreland._ - - _Enter_ MUSGROVE _and_ CUDDY. - - _Cud._ Now, gentle father, list unto thy son, - And for my mother's love, - That erst was blithe and bonny in thine eye, - Grant one petition that I shall demand. - - _Mus._ What is that, my Cuddy? - - _Cud._ Father, you know the ancient enmity of late - Between the Musgroves and the wily Scots, - Whereof they have oath - Not to leave one alive that strides a lance. - O father, you are old, and, waning, age unto the grave: - Old William Musgrove, which whilom was thought - The bravest horseman in all Westmoreland, - Is weak, and forc'd to stay his arm upon a staff, - That erst could wield a lance. - Then, gentle father, resign the hold to me; - Give arms to youth, and honour unto age. - - _Mus._ Avaunt, false-hearted boy! my joints do quake - Even with anguish of thy very words. - Hath William Musgrove seen an hundred years? - Have I been fear'd and dreaded of the Scots, - That, when they heard my name in any road,[301] - They fled away, and posted thence amain, - And shall I die with shame now in mine age? - No, Cuddy, no: thus resolve I, - Here have I liv'd, and here will Musgrove die. - [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE IV.--_At Bradford._ - - _Enter_ LORD BONFIELD, SIR GILBERT ARMSTRONG, GRIME, _and_ BETTRIS. - - _Bon._ Now, gentle Grime, God-a-mercy for our good cheer; - Our fare was royal, and our welcome great: - And sith so kindly thou hast entertain'd us, - If we return with happy victory, - We will deal as friendly with thee in recompense. - - _Grime._ Your welcome was but duty, gentle lord; - For wherefore have we given us our wealth, - But to make our betters welcome when they come? - [_Aside_]. O, this goes hard when traitors must be flatter'd! - But life is sweet, and I cannot withstand it: - God, I hope, will revenge the quarrel of my king. - - _Arm._ What said you, Grime? - - _Grime._ I say, Sir Gilbert, looking on my daughter, - I curse the hour that e'er I got the girl; - For, sir, she may have many wealthy suitors, - And yet she disdains them all, - To have poor George-a-Greene unto her husband. - - _Bon._ On that, good Grime, I am talking with thy daughter; - But she, in quirks and quiddities of love, - Sets me to school, she is so over-wise.-- - But, gentle girl, if thou wilt forsake the Pinner - And be my love, I will advance thee high; - To dignify those hairs of amber hue, - I'll grace them with a chaplet made of pearl, - Set with choice rubies, sparks, and diamonds, - Planted upon a velvet hood, to hide that head - Wherein two sapphires burn like sparkling fire: - This will I do, fair Bettris, and far more, - If thou wilt love the Lord of Doncaster. - - _Bet._ Heigh-ho! my heart is in a higher place, - Perhaps on the earl, if that be he. - See where he comes, or angry, or in love, - For why his colour looketh discontent. - - _Enter the_ EARL OF KENDAL _and_ SIR NICHOLAS MANNERING. - - _Ken._ Come, Nick, follow me. - - _Bon._ How now, my lord! what news? - - _Ken._ Such news, Bonfield, as will make thee laugh, - And fret thy fill, to hear how Nick was us'd. - Why, the Justices stand on their terms: - Nick, as you know, is haughty in his words; - He laid the law unto the Justices - With threatening braves, that one look'd on another, - Ready to stoop; but that a churl came in, - One George-a-Greene, the Pinner of the town, - And with his dagger drawn laid hands on Nick, - And by no beggars swore that we were traitors, - Rent our commission, and upon a brave - Made Nick to eat the seals or brook the stab: - Poor Mannering, afraid, came posting hither straight. - - _Bet._ O lovely George, fortune be still thy friend! - And as thy thoughts be high, so be thy mind - In all accords, even to thy heart's desire! - - _Bon._ What says fair Bettris? - - _Grime._ My lord, she is praying for George-a-Greene: - He is the man, and she will none but him. - - _Bon._ But him! why, look on me, my girl: - Thou know'st, that yesternight I courted thee, - And swore at my return to wed with thee. - Then tell me, love, shall I have all thy fair? - - _Bet._ I care not for earl, nor yet for knight, - Nor baron that is so bold; - For George-a-Greene, the merry Pinner, - He hath my heart in hold.[302] - - _Bon._ Bootless, my lord, are many vain replies: - Let us hie us to Wakefield, and send her the Pinner's head. - - _Ken._ It shall be so.--Grime, gramercy, - Shut up thy daughter, bridle her affects;[303] - Let me not miss her when I make return; - Therefore look to her, as to thy life, good Grime. - - _Grime._ I warrant you, my lord. - - _Ken._ And, Bettris, - Leave a base Pinner, for to love an earl. - [_Exeunt_ GRIME _and_ BETTRIS. - Fain would I see this Pinner George-a-Greene. - It shall be thus: - Nick Mannering shall lead on the battle, - And we three will go to Wakefield in some disguise: - But howsoever, I'll have his head to-day. [_Exeunt._ - - - - -ACT THE SECOND - - -SCENE I.--_Before_ SIR JOHN-A-BARLEY'S _Castle_. - - _Enter_ JAMES, KING OF SCOTS, LORD HUMES, _with_ Soldiers, _and_ JOHN. - - _K. James._ Why, Johnny, then the Earl of Kendal is blithe, - And hath brave men that troop along with him? - - _John._ Ay, marry, my liege, - And hath good men that come along with him, - And vows to meet you at Scrasblesea, God willing. - - _K. James._ If good Saint Andrew lend King Jamy leave, - I will be with him at the 'pointed day. - - _Enter_ NED. - - But, soft!--Whose pretty boy art thou? - - _Ned._ Sir, I am son unto Sir John-a-Barley, - Eldest, and all that e'er my mother had; - Edward my name. - - _K. James._ And whither art thou going, pretty Ned? - - _Ned._ To seek some birds, and kill them, if I can: - And now my schoolmaster is also gone, - So have I liberty to ply my bow; - For when he comes, I stir not from my book. - - _K. James._ Lord Humes, but mark the visage of this child: - By him I guess the beauty of his mother; - None but Leda could breed Helena.-- - Tell me, Ned, who is within with thy mother? - - _Ned._ Naught but herself and household servants, sir: - If you would speak with her, knock at this gate. - - _K. James._ Johnny, knock at that gate. - [JOHN _knocks at the gate._ - - _Enter_ JANE-A-BARLEY _upon the walls._ - - _Jane._ O, I'm betray'd! What multitudes be these? - - _K. James._ Fear not, fair Jane, for all these men are mine, - And all thy friends, if thou be friend to me: - I am thy lover, James the King of Scots, - That oft have su'd and woo'd with many letters, - Painting my outward passions with my pen, - Whenas my inward soul did bleed for woe. - Little regard was given to my suit; - But haply thy husband's presence wrought it: - Therefore, sweet Jane, I fitted me to time, - And, hearing that thy husband was from home, - Am come to crave what long I have desir'd. - - _Ned._ Nay, soft you, sir! you get no entrance here, - That seek to wrong Sir John-a-Barley so, - And offer such dishonour to my mother. - - _K. James._ Why, what dishonour, Ned? - - _Ned._ Though young, - Yet often have I heard my father say, - No greater wrong than to be made cuckold. - Were I of age, or were my body strong, - Were he ten kings, I would shoot him to the heart - That should attempt to give Sir John the horn.-- - Mother, let him not come in: - I will go lie at Jocky Miller's house. - - _K. James._ Stay him. - - _Jane._ Ay, well said; Ned, thou hast given the king his answer; - For were the ghost of Cæsar on the earth, - Wrapp'd in the wonted glory of his honour, - He should not make me wrong my husband so. - But good King James is pleasant, as I guess, - And means to try what humour I am in; - Else would he never have brought an host of men, - To have them witness of his Scottish lust. - - _K. James._ Jane, in faith, Jane,-- - - _Jane._ Never reply, - For I protest by the highest holy God, - That doometh just revenge for things amiss, - King James, of all men, shall not have my love. - - _K. James._ Then list to me: Saint Andrew be my boot, - But I'll raze thy castle to the very ground, - Unless thou open the gate, and let me in. - - _Jane._ I fear thee not, King Jamy: do thy worst. - This castle is too strong for thee to scale; - Besides, to-morrow will Sir John come home. - - _K. James._ Well, Jane, since thou disdain'st King James's love, - I'll draw thee on with sharp and deep extremes; - For, by my father's soul, this brat of thine - Shall perish here before thine eyes, - Unless thou open the gate, and let me in. - - _Jane._ O deep extremes! my heart begins to break: - My little Ned looks pale for fear.-- - Cheer thee, my boy, I will do much for thee. - - _Ned._ But not so much as to dishonour me. - - _Jane._ An if thou diest, I cannot live, sweet Ned. - - _Ned._ Then die with honour, mother, dying chaste. - - _Jane._ I am armed: - My husband's love, his honour, and his fame, - Join[304] victory by virtue. Now, King James, - If mother's tears cannot allay thine ire, - Then butcher him, for I will never yield: - The son shall die before I wrong the father. - - _K. James._ Why, then, he dies. - - _Alarum within. Enter a_ Messenger. - - _Mess._ My lord, Musgrove is at hand. - - _K. James._ Who, Musgrove? The devil he is! Come, my horse! - [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE II.--_The Same._ - - _Enter_ MUSGROVE _with_ KING JAMES _prisoner_; JANE-A-BARLEY _on the - walls._ - - _Mus._ Now, King James, thou art my prisoner. - - _K. James._ Not thine, but fortune's prisoner. - - _Enter_ CUDDY. - - _Cud._ Father, the field is ours: their colours we have seiz'd, - And Humes is slain; I slew him hand to hand. - - _Mus._ God and Saint George! - - _Cud._ O father, I am sore athirst! - - _Jane._ Come in, young Cuddy, come and drink thy fill: - Bring in King Jamy with you as a guest; - For all this broil was 'cause he could not enter. - [_Exit above.--Exeunt below, the others._ - - -SCENE III.--_At Wakefield._ - - _Enter_ GEORGE-A-GREENE. - - _Geo._ The sweet content of men that live in love - Breeds fretting humours in a restless mind; - And fancy, being check'd by fortune's spite, - Grows too impatient in her sweet desires; - Sweet to those men whom love leads on to bliss, - But sour to me whose hap is still amiss. - - _Enter_ JENKIN. - - _Jen._ Marry, amen, sir. - - _Geo._ Sir, what do you cry "amen" at? - - _Jen._ Why, did not you talk of love? - - _Geo._ How do you know that? - -_Jen._ Well, though I say it that should not say it, there are few -fellows in our parish so nettled with love as I have been of late. - -_Geo._ Sirrah, I thought no less, when the other morning you rose so -early to go to your wenches. Sir, I had thought you had gone about my -honest business. - -_Jen._ Trow, you have hit it; for, master, be it known to you, there is -some good-will betwixt Madge the souce-wife[305] and I; marry, she hath -another lover. - -_Geo._ Can'st thou brook any rivals in thy love? - -_Jen._ A rider! no, he is a sow-gelder and goes afoot. But Madge -'pointed to meet me in your wheat-close. - -_Geo._ Well, did she meet you there? - -_Jen._ Never make question of that. And first I saluted her with a -green gown, and after fell as hard a-wooing as if the priest had been -at our backs to have married us. - -_Geo._ What, did she grant? - -_Jen._ Did she grant! never make question of that. And she gave me a -shirt-collar wrought over with no counterfeit stuff. - -_Geo._ What, was it gold? - -_Jen._ Nay, 'twas better than gold. - -_Geo._ What was it? - -_Jen._ Right Coventry blue. We had no sooner come there but wot you who -came by? - -_Geo._ No: who? - -_Jen._ Clim the sow-gelder. - -_Geo._ Came he by? - -_Jen._ He spied Madge and I sit together: he leapt from his horse, -laid his hand on his dagger, and began to swear. Now I seeing he had a -dagger, and I nothing but this twig in my hand, I gave him fair words -and said nothing. He comes to me, and takes me by the bosom. "You -whoreson slave," said he, "hold my horse, and look he take no cold in -his feet." "No, marry, shall he, sir," quoth I; "I'll lay my cloak -underneath him." I took my cloak, spread it all along, and his horse on -the midst of it. - -_Geo._ Thou clown, didst thou set his horse upon thy cloak? - -_Jen._ Ay, but mark how I served him. Madge and he was no sooner gone -down into the ditch, but I plucked out my knife, cut four holes in my -cloak, and made his horse stand on the bare ground. - -_Geo._ 'Twas well done. Now, sir, go and survey my fields: if you find -any cattle in the corn, to pound with them. - -_Jen._ And if I find any in the pound, I shall turn them out. [_Exit._ - - _Enter the_ EARL OF KENDAL, LORD BONFIELD, SIR GILBERT ARMSTRONG, _all - disguised, with a train of men._ - - _Ken._ Now we have put the horses in the corn, - Let us stand in some corner for to hear - What braving terms the Pinner will breathe - When he spies our horses in the corn. - [_Retires with the others._ - - _Re-enter_ JENKIN _blowing his horn._ - -_Jen._ O master, where are you? we have a prize. - -_Geo._ A prize! what is it? - -_Jen._ Three goodly horses in our wheat-close. - -_Geo._ Three horses in our wheat-close! whose be they? - -_Jen._ Marry, that's a riddle to me; but they are there; velvet[306] -horses, and I never saw such horses before. As my duty was, I put off -my cap, and said as followeth: "My masters, what do you make in our -close?" One of them, hearing me ask what he made there, held up his -head and neighed, and after his manner laughed as heartily as if a mare -had been tied to his girdle. "My masters," said I, "it is no laughing -matter; for, if my master take you here, you go as round as a top to -the pound." Another untoward jade, hearing me threaten him to the -pound and to tell you of them, cast up both his heels, and let such a -monstrous great fart, that was as much as in his language to say, "A -fart for the pound, and a fart for George-a-Greene!" Now I, hearing -this, put on my cap, blew my horn, called them all jades, and came to -tell you. - -_Geo._ Now, sir, go and drive me those three horses to the pound. - -_Jen._ Do you hear? I were best to take a constable with me. - -_Geo._ Why so? - -_Jen._ Why, they, being gentlemen's horses, may stand on their -reputation, and will not obey me. - -_Geo._ Go, do as I bid you, sir. - -_Jen._ Well, I may go. - - _The_ EARL OF KENDAL, LORD BONFIELD, _and_ SIR GILBERT ARMSTRONG _come - forward._ - -_Ken._ Whither away, sir? - -_Jen._ Whither away! I am going to put the horses in the pound. - -_Ken._ Sirrah, those three horses belong to us, -And we put them in, -And they must tarry there and eat their fill. - -_Jen._ Stay, I will go tell my master.--Hear you, master? we have -another prize: those three horses be in your wheat-close still, and -here be three geldings more. - -_Geo._ What be these? - -_Jen._ These are the masters of the horses. - - _Geo._ Now, gentlemen (I know not your degrees, - But more you cannot be, unless you be kings,) - Why wrong you us of Wakefield with your horses? - I am the Pinner, and, before you pass, - You shall make good the trespass they have done. - -_Ken._ Peace, saucy mate, prate not to us: -I tell thee, Pinner, we are gentlemen. - -_Geo._ Why, sir, so may I, sir, although I give no arms. - -_Ken._ Thou! how art thou a gentleman? - -_Jen._ And such is my master, and he may give as good arms as ever your -great-grandfather could give. - -_Ken._ Pray thee, let me hear how. - -_Jen._ Marry, my master may give for his arms the picture of April in a -green jerkin, with a rook on one fist and an horn on the other: but my -master gives his arms the wrong way, for he gives the horn on his fist; -and your grandfather, because he would not lose his arms, wears the -horn on his own head. - - _Ken._ Well, Pinner, sith our horses be in, - In spite of thee they now shall feed their fill, - And eat until our leisures serve to go. - - _Geo._ Now, by my father's soul, - Were good King Edward's horses in the corn, - They shall amend the scath, or kiss the pound; - Much more yours, sir, whatsoe'er you be. - - _Ken._ Why, man, thou knowest not us: - We do belong to Henry Momford, Earl of Kendal; - Men that, before a month be full expir'd, - Will be King Edward's betters in the land. - - _Geo._ King Edward's betters! Rebel, thou liest! - [_Strikes him._ - - _Bon._ Villain, what hast thou done? thou hast struck an earl. - - _Geo._ Why, what care I? a poor man that is true, - Is better than an earl, if he be false. - Traitors reap no better favours at my hands. - - _Ken._ Ay, so methinks; but thou shalt dear aby[307] this blow.-- - Now or never lay hold on the Pinner! - - _All the train comes forward._ - - _Geo._ Stay, my lords, let us parley on these broils: - Not Hercules against two, the proverb is, - Nor I against so great a multitude.-- - [_Aside_]. Had not your troops come marching as they did, - I would have stopt your passage unto London: - But now I'll fly to secret policy. - - _Ken._ What dost thou murmur, George? - - _Geo._ Marry, this, my lord; I muse, - If thou be Henry Momford, Kendal's earl, - That thou wilt do poor George-a-Greene this wrong, - Ever to match me with a troop of men. - - _Ken_ Why dost thou strike me, then? - - _Geo._ Why, my lord, measure me but by yourself: - Had you a man had serv'd you long, - And heard your foe misuse you behind your back, - And would not draw his sword in your defence, - You would cashier him. - Much more, King Edward is my king: - And before I'll hear him so wrong'd, - I'll die within this place, - And maintain good whatsoever I have said. - And, if I speak not reason in this case, - What I have said I'll maintain in this place. - - _Bon._ A pardon, my lord, for this Pinner; - For, trust me, he speaketh like a man of worth. - - _Ken._ Well, George, wilt thou leave Wakefield and wend with me, - I'll freely put up all and pardon thee. - - _Geo._ Ay, my lord, considering me one thing, - You will leave these arms, and follow your good king. - - _Ken._ Why, George, I rise not against King Edward, - But for the poor that is oppress'd by wrong; - And, if King Edward will redress the same, - I will not offer him disparagement, - But otherwise; and so let this suffice. - Thou hear'st the reason why I rise in arms: - Now, wilt thou leave Wakefield and wend with me, - I'll make thee captain of a hardy band, - And, when I have my will, dub thee a knight. - - _Geo._ Why, my lord, have you any hope to win? - - _Ken._ Why, there is a prophecy doth say, - That King James and I shall meet at London, - And make the king vail bonnet to us both. - - _Geo._ If this were true, my lord, this were a mighty reason. - - _Ken._ Why, it is a miraculous prophecy, and cannot fail. - - _Geo._ Well, my lord, you have almost turned me.-- - Jenkin, come hither. - - _Jen._ Sir? - - _Geo._ Go your ways home, sir, - And drive me those three horses home unto my house, - And pour them down a bushel of good oats. - - _Jen._ Well, I will.--[_Aside_]. Must I give these scurvy horses oats? - [_Exit._ - - _Geo._ Will it please you to command your train aside? - - _Ken._ Stand aside. [_The train retires._ - - _Geo._ Now list to me: - Here in a wood, not far from hence, - There dwells an old man in a cave alone, - That can foretell what fortunes shall befall you, - For he is greatly skilful in magic art. - Go you three to him early in the morning, - And question him: if he says good, - Why, then, my lord, I am the foremost man - Who will march up with your camp to London. - -_Ken._ George, thou honourest me in this. But where shall we find him out? - - _Geo._ My man shall conduct you to the place; - But, good my lord, tell me true what the wise man saith. - - _Ken._ That will I, as I am Earl of Kendal. - - _Geo._ Why, then, to honour George-a-Greene the more, - Vouchsafe a piece of beef at my poor house; - You shall have wafer-cakes your fill, - A piece of beef hung up since Martlemas: - If that like you not, take what you bring, for me. - - _Ken._ Gramercies, George. [_Exeunt._ - - - - -ACT THE THIRD - - -SCENE I.--_Before_ GRIME'S _house in Bradford._ - - _Enter_ GEORGE-A-GREENE'S _boy_ WILY, _disguised as a woman._ - - _Wily._ O, what is love! it is some mighty power, - Else could it never conquer George-a-Greene. - Here dwells a churl that keeps away his love: - I know the worst, an if I be espied, - 'Tis but a beating; and if I by this means - Can get fair Bettris forth her father's door, - It is enough. - Venus, for me, of all the gods alone, - Be aiding to my wily enterprise! [_Knocks at the door._ - - _Enter_ GRIME _as from the house._ - - _Grime._ How now! who knocks there? what would you have? - From whence came you? where do you dwell? - - _Wily._ I am, forsooth, a sempster's maid hard by, - That hath brought work home to your daughter. - - _Grime._ Nay, are you not - Some crafty quean that comes from George-a-Greene, - That rascal, with some letters to my daughter? - I will have you search'd. - - _Wily._ Alas, sir, it is Hebrew unto me, - To tell me of George-a-Greene or any other! - Search me, good sir, and if you find a letter - About me, let me have the punishment that's due. - - _Grime._ Why are you muffled? I like you the worse for that. - - _Wily._ I am not, sir, asham'd to show my face; - Yet loth I am my cheeks should take the air: - Not that I'm chary of my beauty's hue, - But that I'm troubled with the toothache sore. - [_Unmuffles._ - - _Grime._ [_aside_]. A pretty wench, of smiling countenance! - Old men can like, although they cannot love; - Ay, and love, though not so brief as young men can.-- - Well, go in, my wench, and speak with my daughter. - [_Exit_ WILY _into the house._ - I wonder much at the Earl of Kendal, - Being a mighty man, as still he is, - Yet for to be a traitor to his king, - Is more than God or man will well allow. - But what a fool am I to talk of him! - My mind is more here of the pretty lass. - Had she brought some forty pounds to town, - I could be content to make her my wife: - Yet I have heard it in a proverb said, - He that is old and marries with a lass, - Lies but at home, and proves himself an ass. - - _Enter, from the house_, BETTRIS _in_ WILY'S _apparel._ - - How now, my wench! how is't? what, not a word?-- - Alas, poor soul, the toothache plagues her sore.-- - Well, my wench, - Here is an angel for to buy thee pins, [_Gives money._ - And I pray thee use mine house; - The oftener, the more welcome: farewell. [_Exit._ - - _Bet._ O blessèd love, and blessèd fortune both! - But, Bettris, stand not here to talk of love, - But hie thee straight unto thy George-a-Greene: - Never went roebuck swifter on the downs - Than I will trip it till I see my George. [_Exit._ - - -SCENE II.--_A Wood near Wakefield._ - - _Enter the_ EARL OF KENDAL, LORD BONFIELD, SIR GILBERT ARMSTRONG, - _and_ JENKIN. - -_Ken._ Come away, Jenkin. - -_Jen._ Come, here is his house. [_Knocks at the door._]--Where be you, -ho? - -_Geo._ [_within_]. Who knocks there? - -_Ken._ Here are two or three poor men, father, would speak with you. - -_Geo._ [_within_]. Pray, give your man leave to lead me forth. - -_Ken._ Go, Jenkin, fetch him forth. [JENKIN _leads forth_ -GEORGE-A-GREENE _disguised_. - -_Jen._ Come, old man. - - _Ken._ Father, here are three poor men come to question thee - A word in secret that concerns their lives. - - _Geo._ Say on, my sons. - - _Ken._ Father, I am sure you hear the news, how that - The Earl of Kendal wars against the king. - Now, father, we three are gentlemen by birth, - But younger brethren that want revenues, - And for the hope we have to be preferr'd, - If that we knew that we shall win, - We will march with him: if not, - We will not march a foot to London more. - Therefore, good father, tell us what shall happen, - Whether the king or the Earl of Kendal shall win. - - _Geo._ The king, my son. - - _Ken._ Art thou sure of that? - - _Geo._ Ay, as sure as thou art Henry Momford, - The one Lord Bonfield, the other Sir Gilbert [Armstrong]. - - _Ken._ Why, this is wondrous, being blind of sight, - His deep perceiverance should be such to know us. - - _Arm._ Magic is mighty and foretelleth great matters.-- - Indeed, father, here is the earl come to see thee, - And therefore, good father, fable not with him. - - _Geo._ Welcome is the earl to my poor cell, - And so are you, my lords; but let me counsel you - To leave these wars against your king, and live in quiet. - - _Ken._ Father, we come not for advice in war, - But to know whether we shall win or leese.[308] - - _Geo._ Lose, gentle lords, but not by good King Edward; - A baser man shall give you all the foil. - - _Ken._ Ay, marry, father, what man is that? - - _Geo._ Poor George-a-Greene, the Pinner. - - _Ken._ What shall he? - - _Geo._ Pull all your plumes, and sore dishonour you. - - _Ken._ He! as how? - - _Geo._ Nay, the end tries all; but so it will fall out. - - _Ken._ But so it shall not, by my honour Christ. - I'll raise my camp, and fire Wakefield town, - And take that servile Pinner George-a-Greene, - And butcher him before King Edward's face. - - _Geo._ Good my lord, be not offended, - For I speak no more than art reveals to me: - And for greater proof, - Give your man leave to fetch me my staff. - - _Ken._ Jenkin, fetch him his walking-staff. - - _Jen._ [_giving it_]. Here is your walking-staff. - - _Geo._ I'll prove it good upon your carcases; - A wiser wizard never met you yet, - Nor one that better could foredoom your fall. - Now I have singled you here alone, - I care not though you be three to one. - - _Ken._ Villain, hast thou betray'd us? - - _Geo._ Momford, thou liest, ne'er was I traitor yet; - Only devis'd this guile to draw you on - For to be combatants. - Now conquer me, and then march on to London: - It shall go hard but I will hold you task. - - _Arm._ Come, my lord, cheerly, I'll kill him hand to hand. - - _Ken._ A thousand pound to him that strikes that stroke! - - _Geo._ Then give it me, for I will have the first. - [_Here they fight_; GEORGE _kills_ SIR GILBERT ARMSTRONG, _and - takes the other two prisoners._ - - _Bon._ Stay, George, we do appeal. - - _Geo._ To whom? - - _Bon._ Why, to the king: - For rather had we bide what he appoints, - Then here be murder'd by a servile groom. - - _Ken._ What wilt thou do with us? - - _Geo._ Even as Lord Bonfield wish'd, - You shall unto the king: and, for that purpose, - See where the Justice is plac'd. - - _Enter_ Justice. - - _Jus._ Now, my Lord of Kendal, where be all your threats? - Even as the cause, so is the combat fallen, - Else one could never have conquer'd three. - - _Ken._ I pray thee, Woodroffe, do not twit me; - If I have faulted, I must make amends. - - _Geo._ Master Woodroffe, here is not a place for many words: - I beseech ye, sir, discharge all his soldiers, - That every man may go home unto his own house. - - _Jus._ It shall be so. What wilt thou do, George? - - _Geo._ Master Woodroffe, look to your charge; - Leave me to myself. - - _Jus._ Come, my lords. - [_Exeunt all except_ GEORGE. - - -SCENE III.--_A Wood near Wakefield._ - - GEORGE-A-GREENE _discovered._[309] - - _Geo._ Here sit thou, George, wearing a willow wreath, - As one despairing of thy beauteous love: - Fie, George! no more; - Pine not away for that which cannot be. - I cannot joy in any earthly bliss, - So long as I do want my Bettris. - - _Enter_ JENKIN. - - _Jen._ Who see a master of mine? - - _Geo._ How now, sirrah! whither away? - - _Jen,_ Whither away! why, who do you take me to be? - - _Geo._ Why, Jenkin, my man. - - _Jen._ I was so once indeed, but now the case is altered. - - _Geo._ I pray thee, as how? - - _Jen._ Were not you a fortune-teller to-day? - - _Geo._ Well, what of that? - -_Jen._ So sure am I become a juggler. What will you say if I juggle -your sweetheart? - - _Geo._ Peace, prating losel! her jealous father - Doth wait o'er her with such suspicious eyes, - That, if a man but dally by her feet, - He thinks it straight a witch to charm his daughter. - - _Jen._ Well, what will you give me, if I bring her hither? - - _Geo._ A suit of green, and twenty crowns besides. - - _Jen._ Well, by your leave, give me room. You must give me something - that you have lately worn. - - _Geo._ Here is a gown, will that serve you? - [_Gives gown._ - -_Jen._ Ay, this will serve me. Keep out of my circle, lest you be -torn in pieces by she-devils.--Mistress Bettris, once, twice, thrice! -[JENKIN _throws the gown in, and_ BETTRIS _comes out._[310] -O, is this no cunning? - -_Geo._ Is this my love, or is it but her shadow? - -_Jen._ Ay, this is the shadow, but here is the substance. - -_Geo._ Tell me, sweet love, what good fortune brought thee hither? -For one it was that favour'd George-a-Greene. - - _Bet._ Both love and fortune brought me to my George, - In whose sweet sight is all my heart's content. - - _Geo._ Tell me, sweet love, how cam'st thou from thy father's? - - _Bet._ A willing mind hath many slips in love: - It was not I, but Wily, thy sweet boy. - - _Geo._ And where is Wily now? - - _Bet._ In my apparel, in my chamber still. - - _Geo._ Jenkin, come hither: go to Bradford, - And listen out your fellow Wily.-- - Come, Bettris, let us in, - And in my cottage we will sit and talk. - [_Exeunt._ - - - - -ACT THE FOURTH - - -SCENE I.--_Camp of_ KING EDWARD. - - _Enter_ KING EDWARD, JAMES, KING OF SCOTS, LORD WARWICK, CUDDY, _and_ - Train. - - _K. Edw._ Brother of Scotland, I do hold it hard, - Seeing a league of truce was late confirm'd - 'Twixt you and me, without displeasure offer'd - You should make such invasion in my land. - The vows of kings should be as oracles, - Not blemish'd with the stain of any breach; - Chiefly where fealty and homage willeth it. - - _K. James._ Brother of England, rub not the sore afresh; - My conscience grieves me for my deep misdeed. - I have the worst; of thirty thousand men, - There 'scap'd not full five thousand from the field. - - _K. Edw._ Gramercy, Musgrove, else it had gone hard: - Cuddy, I'll quite thee well ere we two part. - - _K. James._ But had not his old father, William Musgrove, - Play'd twice the man, I had not now been here. - A stronger man I seldom felt before; - But one of more resolute valiance, - Treads not, I think, upon the English ground. - - _K. Edw._ I wot well, Musgrove shall not lose his hire. - - _Cud,_ An it please your grace, my father was - Five-score and three at midsummer last past: - Yet had King Jamy been as good as George-a-Greene, - Yet Billy Musgrove would have fought with him. - - _K. Edw._ As George-a-Greene! - I pray thee, Cuddy, let me question thee. - Much have I heard, since I came to my crown, - Many in manner of a proverb say, - "Were he as good as George-a-Greene, I would strike him sure:" - I pray thee, tell me, Cuddy, canst thou inform me, - What is that George-a-Greene? - - _Cud._ Know, my lord, I never saw the man, - But mickle talk is of him in the country: - They say he is the Pinner of Wakefield town: - But for his other qualities, I let alone. - - _War._ May it please your grace, I know the man too well. - - _K. Edw._ Too well! why so, Warwick? - - _War._ For once he swing'd me till my bones did ache. - - _K. Edw._ Why, dares he strike an earl? - - _War._ An earl, my lord! nay, he will strike a king, - Be it not King Edward. For stature he is fram'd - Like to the picture of stout Hercules, - And for his carriage passeth Robin Hood. - The boldest earl or baron of your land, - That offereth scath unto the town of Wakefield, - George will arrest his pledge unto the pound; - And whoso resisteth bears away the blows, - For he himself is good enough for three. - - _K. Edw._ Why, this is wondrous: my Lord of Warwick, - Sore do I long to see this George-a-Greene. - But leaving him, what shall we do, my lord, - For to subdue the rebels in the north? - They are now marching up to Doncaster.-- - - _Enter one with the_ EARL OF KENDAL _prisoner._ - - Soft! who have we there? - - _Cud._ Here is a traitor, the Earl of Kendal. - - _K. Edw._ Aspiring traitor! how darest thou - Once cast thine eyes upon thy sovereign - That honour'd thee with kindness, and with favour? - But I will make thee buy this treason dear. - - _Ken._ Good my lord,-- - - _K. Edw._ Reply not, traitor.-- - Tell me, Cuddy, whose deed of honour - Won the victory against this rebel? - - _Cud._ George-a-Greene, the Pinner of Wakefield. - - _K. Edw._ George-a-Greene! now shall I hear news - Certain, what this Pinner is. - Discourse it briefly, Cuddy, how it befell. - - _Cud._ Kendal and Bonfield, with Sir Gilbert Armstrong, - Came to Wakefield town disguis'd, - And there spoke ill of your grace; - Which George but hearing, fell'd them at his feet, - And, had not rescue come into the place, - George had slain them in his close of wheat. - - _K. Edw._ But, Cuddy, - Canst thou not tell where I might give and grant - Something that might please - And highly gratify the Pinner's thoughts? - - _Cud._ This at their parting George did say to me: - "If the king vouchsafe of this my service, - Then, gentle Cuddy, kneel upon thy knee, - And humbly crave a boon of him for me." - - _K. Edw._ Cuddy, what is it? - - _Cud._ It is his will your grace would pardon them, - And let them live, although they have offended. - - _K. Edw._ I think the man striveth to be glorious. - Well, George hath crav'd it, and it shall be granted, - Which none but he in England should have gotten.-- - Live, Kendal, but as prisoner, - So shalt thou end thy days within the Tower. - - _Ken._ Gracious is Edward to offending subjects. - - _K. James._ My Lord of Kendal, you're welcome to the court. - - _K. Edw._ Nay, but ill-come as it falls out now; - Ay, ill-come indeed, were't not for George-a-Greene. - But, gentle king, for so you would aver, - And Edward's betters, I salute you both, - And here I vow by good Saint George, - You'll gain but little when your sums are counted. - I sore do long to see this George-a-Greene: - And for because I never saw the north, - I will forthwith go see it; - And for that to none I will be known, we will - Disguise ourselves and steal down secretly, - Thou and I, King James, Cuddy, and two or three, - And make a merry journey for a month.-- - Away, then, conduct him to the Tower.-- - Come on, King James, my heart must needs be merry, - If fortune makes such havoc of our foes. [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE II.--ROBIN HOOD'S _Retreat._ - - _Enter_ ROBIN HOOD, MAID MARIAN, SCARLET, _and_ MUCH. - - _Rob._ Why is not lovely Marian blithe of cheer? - What ails my leman,[311] that she gins to lour? - Say, good Marian, why art thou so sad? - - _Mar._ Nothing, my Robin, grieves me to the heart - But, whensoever I do walk abroad, - I hear no songs but all of George-a-Greene; - Bettris, his fair leman, passeth me: - And this, my Robin, galls my very soul. - - _Rob._ Content: what recks it us though George-a-Greene be stout, - So long as he doth proffer us no scath? - Envy doth seldom hurt but to itself; - And therefore, Marian, smile upon thy Robin. - - _Mar._ Never will Marian smile upon her Robin, - Nor lie with him under the greenwood shade, - Till that thou go to Wakefield on a green, - And beat the Pinner for the love of me. - - _Rob._ Content thee, Marian, I will ease thy grief, - My merry men and I will thither stray; - And here I vow that, for the love of thee, - I will beat George-a-Greene, or he shall beat me. - - _Scar._ As I am Scarlet, next to Little John, - One of the boldest yeomen of the crew, - So will I wend with Robin all along, - And try this Pinner what he dares do. - - _Much._ As I am Much, the miller's son, - That left my mill to go with thee, - And nill repent that I have done, - This pleasant life contenteth me; - In aught I may, to do thee good, - I'll live and die with Robin Hood. - - _Mar._ And, Robin, Marian she will go with thee, - To see fair Bettris how bright she is of blee.[312] - - _Rob._ Marian, thou shalt go with thy Robin.-- - Bend up your bows, and see your strings be tight, - The arrows keen, and everything be ready, - And each of you a good bat on his neck, - Able to lay a good man on the ground. - - _Scar._ I will have Friar Tuck's. - - _Much._ I will have Little John's. - - _Rob._ I will have one made of an ashen plank, - Able to bear a bout or two.-- - Then come on, Marian, let us go; - For before the sun doth show the morning day, - I will be at Wakefield to see this Pinner, George-a-Greene. - [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE III.--_At Bradford._ - - _A_ Shoemaker _discovered at work: enter_ JENKIN, _carrying a - staff._[313] - -_Jen._ My masters, he that hath neither meat nor money, and hath lost -his credit with the alewife, for anything I know, may go supperless to -bed.--But, soft! who is here? here is a shoemaker; he knows where is -the best ale.--Shoemaker, I pray thee tell me, where is the best ale in -the town? - -_Shoe._ Afore, afore, follow thy nose; at the sign of the Egg-shell. - -_Jen._ Come, shoemaker, if thou wilt, and take thy part of a pot. - -_Shoe._ [_coming forward_]. Sirrah, down with your staff, down with -your staff. - -_Jen._ Why, how now! is the fellow mad? I pray thee tell me, why should -I hold down my staff? - -_Shoe._ You will down with him, will you not, sir? - -_Jen._ Why, tell me wherefore? - -_Shoe._ My friend, this is the town of merry Bradford, and here is a -custom held, that none shall pass with his staff on his shoulders but -he must have a bout with me; and so shall you, sir. - -_Jen._ And so will I not, sir. - -_Shoe._ That will I try. Barking dogs bite not the sorest. - -_Jen._ [_aside_]. I would to God I were once well rid of him. - -_Shoe._ Now, what, will you down with your staff? - -_Jen._ Why, you are not in earnest? are you? - -_Shoe._ If I am not, take that. [_Strikes him._ - -_Jen._ You whoreson, cowardly scab, it is but the part of a -clapperdudgeon[314] to strike a man in the street. But darest thou walk -to the town's end with me? - -_Shoe._ Ay, that I dare do; but stay till I lay in my tools, and I will -go with thee to the town's end presently. - -_Jen._ [_aside_]. I would I knew how to be rid of this fellow. - -_Shoe._ Come, sir, will you go to the town's end now, sir? - -_Jen._ Ay, sir, come.-- - - [_Scene changes to the town's end_]. - -Now we are at the town's end, what say you now? - -_Shoe._ Marry, come, let us even have a bout. - -_Jen._ Ha, stay a little; hold thy hands, I pray thee. - -_Shoe._ Why, what's the matter? - -_Jen._ Faith, I am Under-pinner of a town, and there is an order, which -if I do not keep, I shall be turned out of mine office. - -_Shoe._ What is that, sir? - -_Jen._ Whensoever I go to fight with anybody, I use to flourish my -staff thrice about my head before I strike, and then show no favour. - -_Shoe._ Well, sir, and till then I will not strike thee. - -_Jen._ Well, sir, here is once, twice:--here is my hand, I will never -do it the third time. - -_Shoe._ Why, then, I see we shall not fight. - -_Jen._ Faith, no: come, I will give thee two pots of the best ale, and -be friends. - -_Shoe._ [_aside_]. Faith, I see it is as hard to get water out of a -flint as to get him to have a bout with me: therefore I will enter into -him for some good cheer.--My friend, I see thou art a faint-hearted -fellow, thou hast no stomach to fight, therefore let us go to the -ale-house and drink. - -_Jen._ Well, content: go thy ways, and say thy prayers, thou 'scapest -my hands to-day. [_Exeunt._ - - -SCENE IV.--_At Wakefield._ - - _Enter_ GEORGE-A-GREENE _and_ BETTRIS. - - _Geo._ Tell me, sweet love, how is thy mind content? - What, canst thou brook to live with George-a-Greene? - - _Bet._ O, George, how little pleasing are these words! - Came I from Bradford for the love of thee, - And left my father for so sweet a friend? - Here will I live until my life do end. - - _Geo._ Happy am I to have so sweet a love.-- - But what are these come tracing here along? - - _Bet._ Three men come striking through the corn, my love. - - _Enter_ ROBIN HOOD, MAID MARIAN, SCARLET _and_ MUCH. - - _Geo._ Back again, you foolish travellers, - For you are wrong, and may not wend this way. - - _Rob._ That were great shame. Now, by my soul, proud sir, - We be three tall[315] yeomen, and thou art but one.-- - Come, we will forward in despite of him. - - _Geo._ Leap the ditch, or I will make you skip. - What, cannot the highway serve your turn, - But you must make a path over the corn? - - _Rob._ Why, art thou mad? dar'st thou encounter three? - We are no babes, man, look upon our limbs. - - _Geo._ Sirrah, the biggest limbs have not the stoutest hearts. - Were ye as good as Robin Hood and his three merry men, - I'll drive you back the same way that ye came. - Be ye men, ye scorn to encounter me all at once; - But be ye cowards, set upon me all three, - And try the Pinner what he dares perform. - - _Scar._ Were thou as high in deeds - As thou art haughty in words, - Thou well might'st be a champion for the king: - But empty vessels have the loudest sounds, - And cowards prattle more than men of worth. - - _Geo._ Sirrah, darest thou try me? - - _Scar._ Ay, sirrah, that I dare. - [_They fight, and_ GEORGE-A-GREENE _beats him._ - - _Much._ How now! what, art thou down?-- - Come, sir, I am next. - [_They fight, and_ GEORGE-A-GREENE _beats him._ - - _Rob._ Come, sirrah, now to me: spare me not, - For I'll not spare thee. - - _Ge._ Make no doubt I will be as liberal to thee. - [_They fight_; ROBIN HOOD _stays._ - - _Rob._ Stay, George, for here I do protest, - Thou art the stoutest champion that ever I - Laid hands upon. - - _Geo._ Soft, you sir! by your leave, you lie; - You never yet laid hands on me. - - _Rob._ George, wilt thou forsake Wakefield, - And go with me? - Two liveries will I give thee every year, - And forty crowns shall be thy fee.[316] - - _Geo._ Why, who art thou? - - _Rob._ Why, Robin Hood: - I am come hither with my Marian - And these my yeomen for to visit thee. - - _Geo._ Robin Hood! - Next to King Edward art thou lief[317] to me. - Welcome, sweet Robin; welcome, Maid Marian; - And welcome, you my friends. Will you to my poor house? - You shall have wafer-cakes your fill, - A piece of beef hung up since Martlemas, - Mutton and veal: if this like you not, - Take that you find, or that you bring, for me. - - _Rob._ Godamercies, good George, - I'll be thy guest to-day. - - _Geo._ Robin, therein thou honourest me. - I'll lead the way. [_Exeunt._ - - - - -ACT THE FIFTH - - -SCENE I.--_At Bradford._ - - _Enter_ KING EDWARD _and_ KING JAMES _disguised; each carrying a - staff._ - - _K. Edw._ Come on, King James; now we are thus disguis'd, - There's none, I know, will take us to be kings: - I think we are now in Bradford, - Where all the merry shoemakers dwell. - - _Enter several_ Shoemakers. - - _First Shoe._ Down with your staves, my friends, - Down with them. - - _K. Edw._ Down with our staves! I pray thee, why so? - - _First Shoe._ My friend, I see thou art a stranger here, - Else wouldst thou not have question'd of the thing. - This is the town of merry Bradford, - And here hath been a custom kept of old, - That none may bear his staff upon his neck, - But trail it all along throughout the town, - Unless they mean to have a bout with me. - - _K. Edw._ But hear you, sir, hath the king granted you this custom? - - _First Shoe._ King or kaisar, none shall pass this way, - Except King Edward; - No, not the stoutest groom that haunts his court; - Therefore down with your staves. - - _K. Edw._ What were we best to do? - - _K. James._ Faith, my lord, they are stout fellows; - And, because we will see some sport, - We will trail our staves. - - _K. Edw._ Hear'st thou, my friend? - Because we are men of peace and travellers, - We are content to trail our staves. - - _First Shoe._ The way lies before you, go along. - - _Enter_ ROBIN HOOD _and_ GEORGE-A-GREENE, _disguised._ - - _Rob._ See, George, two men are passing through the town, - Two lusty men, and yet they trail their staves. - - _Geo._ Robin, they are some peasants trick'd in yeoman's weeds.-- - Hollo, you two travellers! - - _K. Edw._ Call you us, sir? - - _Geo._ Ay, you. Are ye not big enough to bear - Your bats upon your necks, but you must trail them - Along the streets? - - _K. Edw._ Yes, sir, we are big enough; but here is a custom kept, - That none may pass, his staff upon his neck, - Unless he trail it at the weapon's point. - Sir, we are men of peace, and love to sleep - In our whole skins, and therefore quietness is best. - - _Geo._ Base-minded peasants, worthless to be men! - What, have you bones and limbs to strike a blow, - And be your hearts so faint you cannot fight? - Were't not for shame, I would drub your shoulders well, - And teach you manhood 'gainst another time. - - _First Shoe._ Well preach'd, Sir Jack! down with your staff! - - _K. Edw._ Do you hear, my friends? an you be wise, keep down - Your staves, for all the town will rise upon you. - - _Geo._ Thou speakest like an honest, quiet fellow: - But hear you me; in spite of all the swains - Of Bradford town, bear me your staves upon your necks, - Or, to begin withal, I'll baste you both so well, - You were never better basted in your lives. - - _K. Edw._ We will hold up our staves. -[GEORGE-A-GREENE _fights with the_ Shoemakers, _and beats them all down._ - - _Geo._ What, have you any more? - Call all your town forth, cut and longtail.[318] - [_The_ Shoemakers _recognise_ GEORGE-A-GREENE. - - _First Shoe._ What, George a-Greene, is it you? A plague found[319] you! - I think you long'd to swinge me well. - Come, George, we will crush a pot before we part. - - _Geo._ A pot, you slave! we will have an hundred.-- - Here, Will Perkins, take my purse; fetch me - A stand of ale, and set in the market-place, - That all may drink that are athirst this day; - For this is for a fee to welcome Robin Hood - To Bradford town. - [_The stand of ale is brought out, and they fall a-drinking._ - Here, Robin, sit thou here; - For thou art the best man at the board this day. - You that are strangers, place yourselves where you will. - Robin, here's a carouse to good King Edward's self; - And they that love him not, I would we had - The basting of them a little. - - _Enter the_ EARL OF WARWICK _with other_ Noblemen, _bringing out the_ - King's _garments; then_ GEORGE-A-GREENE _and the rest kneel down to - the_ King. - - _K. Edw._ Come, masters, ale--fellows.--Nay, Robin, - You are the best man at the board to-day.-- - Rise up, George. - - _Geo._ Nay, good my liege, ill-nurtur'd we were, then: - Though we Yorkshire men be blunt of speech, - And little skill'd in court or such quaint fashions, - Yet nature teacheth us duty to our king; - Therefore I humbly beseech you pardon George-a-Greene. - - _Rob._ And, good my lord, a pardon for poor Robin; - And for us all a pardon, good King Edward. - - _First Shoe._ I pray you, a pardon for the shoemakers. - - _K. Edw._ I frankly grant a pardon to you all: - [_They rise._ - And, George-a-Greene, give me thy hand; - There's none in England that shall do thee wrong. - Even from my court I came to see thyself; - And now I see that fame speaks naught but truth. - - _Geo._ I humbly thank your royal majesty. - That which I did against the Earl of Kendal, - 'Twas but a subject's duty to his sovereign, - And therefore little merits such good words. - - _K. Edw._ But ere I go, I'll grace thee with good deeds. - Say what King Edward may perform, - And thou shalt have it, being in England's bounds. - - _Geo._ I have a lovely leman, - As bright of blee as is the silver moon, - And old Grime her father will not let her match - With me, because I am a Pinner, - Although I love her, and she me, dearly. - - _K. Edw._ Where is she? - - _Geo._ At home at my poor house, - And vows never to marry unless her father - Give consent; which is my great grief, my lord. - - _K. Edw._ If this be all, I will despatch it straight; - I'll send for Grime and force him give his grant: - He will not deny King Edward such a suit. - - _Enter_ JENKIN. - -_Jen._ Ho, who saw a master of mine? O, he is gotten into company, an a -body should rake hell for company. - -_Geo._ Peace, ye slave! see where King Edward is. - -_K. Edw._ George, what is he? - -_Geo._ I beseech your grace pardon him; he is my man. - -_First Shoe._ Sirrah, the king hath been drinking with us, and did -pledge us too. - -_Jen._ Hath he so? kneel; I dub you gentlemen. - -_First Shoe._ Beg it of the king, Jenkin. - -_Jen._ I will.--I beseech your worship grant me one thing. - -_K. Edw._ What is that? - -_Jen._ Hark in your ear. [_Whispers_ K. EDW. _in the ear._ - -_K. Edw._ Go your ways, and do it. - -_Jen._ Come, down on your knees, I have got it. - -_First Shoe._ Let us hear what it is first. - -_Jen._ Marry, because you have drunk with the king, and the king hath -so graciously pledged you, you shall be no more called Shoemakers; but -you and yours, to the world's end, shall be called the trade of the -Gentle Craft. - -_First Shoe._ I beseech your majesty reform this which he hath spoken. - -_Jen._ I beseech your worship consume this which he hath spoken. - - _K. Edw._ Confirm it, you would say.-- - Well, he hath done it for you, it is sufficient.-- - Come, George, we will go to Grime, and have thy love. - -_Jen._ I am sure your worship will abide; for yonder is coming old -Musgrove and mad Cuddy his son.--Master, my fellow Wily comes dressed -like a woman, and Master Grime will marry Wily. Here they come. - - _Enter_ MUSGROVE _and_ CUDDY; GRIME, WILY _disguised as a woman,_ MAID - MARIAN, _and_ BETTRIS. - - _K. Edw._ Which is thy old father, Cuddy? - - _Cud._ This, if it please your majesty. - [MUSGROVE _kneels._ - - _K. Edw._ Ah, old Musgrove, stand up; - It fits not such grey hairs to kneel. - - _Mus._ [_rising_]. Long live my sovereign! - Long and happy be his days! - Vouchsafe, my gracious lord, a simple gift - At Billy Musgrove's hand. - King James at Middleham Castle gave me this; - This won the honour, and this give I thee. - [_Gives sword to_ K. EDW. - - _K. Edw._ Godamercy, Musgrove, for this friendly gift; - And, for thou fell'dst a king with this same weapon, - This blade shall here dub valiant Musgrove knight. - - _Mus._ Alas, what hath your highness done? I am poor. - - _K. Edw._ To mend thy living take thou Middleham Castle, - And hold of me. And if thou want living, complain; - Thou shalt have more to maintain thine estate.-- - George, which is thy love? - - _Geo._ This, if please your majesty. - - _K. Edw._ Art thou her aged father? - - _Grime._ I am, an it like your majesty. - - _K. Edw._ And wilt not give thy daughter unto George? - - _Grime._ Yes, my lord, if he will let me marry with this lovely lass. - - _K. Edw._ What say'st thou, George? - - _Geo._ With all my heart, my lord, I give consent. - - _Grime._ Then do I give my daughter unto George. - - _Wily._ Then shall the marriage soon be at an end. - Witness, my lord, if that I be a woman; - [_Throws off his disguise._ - For I am Wily, boy to George-a-Greene, - Who for my master wrought this subtle shift. - - _K. Edw._ What, is it a boy?--what say'st thou to this, Grime? - - _Grime._ Marry, my lord, I think this boy hath - More knavery than all the world besides. - Yet am I content that George shall both have - My daughter and my lands. - - _K. Edw._ Now, George, it rests I gratify thy worth: - And therefore here I do bequeath to thee, - In full possession, half that Kendal hath; - And what as Bradford holds of me in chief, - I give it frankly unto thee for ever. - Kneel down, George. - - _Geo._ What will your majesty do? - - _K. Edw._ Dub thee a knight, George. - - _Geo._ I beseech your grace, grant me one thing. - - _K. Edw._ What is that? - - _Geo._ Then let me live and die a yeoman still: - So was my father, so must live his son. - For 'tis more credit to men of base degree, - To do great deeds, than men of dignity. - - _K. Edw._ Well, be it so, George. - - _K. James._ I beseech your grace despatch with me, - And set down my ransom. - - _K. Edw._ George-a-Greene, - Set down the King of Scots his ransom. - - _Geo._ I beseech your grace pardon me; - It passeth my skill. - - _K. Edw._ Do it, the honour's thine. - - _Geo._ Then let King James make good - Those towns which he hath burnt upon the borders; - Give a small pension to the fatherless, - Whose fathers he caus'd murder'd in those wars; - Put in pledge for these things to your grace, - And so return. - - _K. Edw._ King James, are you content? - - _K. James._ I am content, an like your majesty, - And will leave good castles in security. - - _K. Edw._ I crave no more.--Now, George-a-Greene, - I'll to thy house; and when I have supt, I'll go - To ask and see if Jane-a-Barley be so fair - As good King James reports her for to be. - And for the ancient custom of _Vail staff_, - Keep it still, claim privilege from me: - If any ask a reason why, or how, - Say, English Edward vail'd his staff to you. - [_Exeunt omnes._ - - - - -APPENDIX - - -THE JOLLY PINDER OF WAKEFIELD WITH ROBIN HOOD, SCARLET AND JOHN. - - In Wakefield there lives a jolly pindèr, - in Wakefield all on a green, - in Wakefield all on a green; - - There is neither knight nor squire, said the pindèr, - nor baron that is so bold, - nor baron that is so bold; - - Dare make a trespàss to the town of Wakefield, - but his pledge goes to the pinfold, &c. - - All this be heard three witty young men, - 'twas Robin Hood, Scarlet and John, &c. - - With that they espy'd the jolly pindèr, - as he sat under a thorn, &c. - - Now turn again, turn again, said the pindèr, - for a wrong way you have gone, &c. - - For you have forsaken the king's high-way, - and made a path over the corn, &c. - - O that were great shame, said jolly Robin, - we being three, and thou but one, &c. - - The pinder leapt back then thirty good foot, - 'twas thirty good foot and one, &c. - - He leaned his back fast unto a thorn, - and his foot against a stone, &c. - - And there they fought a long summer's day, - a summer's day so long, &c. - - Till that their swords on their broad bucklèrs, - were broke fast into their hands, &c. - - Hold thy hand, hold thy hand, said bold Robin Hood, - and my merry men everyone, &c. - - For this is one of the best pindèrs, - that ever I tryed with sword, &c. - - And wilt thou forsake thy pinder's craft, - and live in the green-wood with me? &c. - - At Michaelmas next my cov'nant comes out, - when every man gathers his fee, &c. - - I'll take my blew blade all in my hand - And plod to the green-wood with thee, &c. - - Hast thou either meat or drink? said Robin Hood, - for my merry men and me, &c. - - I have both bread and beef, said the pindèr, - and good ale of the best, &c. - - And that is meat good enough, said Robin Hood, - for such unbidden guest, &c. - - O wilt thou forsake the pinder his craft, - and go to the green-wood with me? &c. - - Thou shalt have a livery twice in the year, - the one green, the other brown, &c. - - If Michaelmas day was come and gone, - and my master had paid me my fee, - and my master had paid me my fee, - - Then would I set as little by him, - as my master doth by me, - as my master doth by me. - - - - -NOTES - - -[1] In his _Elizabethan Drama_, ii. 376. - -[2] As does Ingram in his _Christopher Marlowe and his Associates._ - -[3] Nash repeatedly bears witness to Greene's popularity. "In a night -and a day would he have yarkt up a pamphlet as well as in seven year, -and glad was that printer that might be so blest to pay him dear for -the very dregs of his wit" (_Strange News_). Harvey condemns him for -"putting forth new, newer, and newest books of the maker" (_Four -Letters_). Greene remained popular long after his death. In Sir Thomas -Overbury's "Character" of _A Chambermaid_, he tells us "She reads -Greene's works over and over"; and Anthony Wood informs us that since -Greene's time his works "have been mostly sold on ballad-mongers' -stalls." In the introduction to Rowland's _'Tis Merrie when Gossips -meete_ (1602), (_Hunterian Club Publications_, vol. i.) there is a -dialogue indicating that Greene's works are still in demand. Ben Jonson -in _Every Man out of his Humour_ (1599) alludes to Greene's works, -whence one "may steal with more security," referring undoubtedly, as -does Rowland, to the great mass of Greene's published work. - -[4] Upon which Nash comments: "Let other men (as they please) praise -the mountain that in seven years brings forth a mouse, or the -Italianate pen, that of a packet of pilfries, affordeth the press -a pamphlet or two in an age, and then in dignified array, vaunts -Ovid's and Plutarch's plumes as their own; but give me the man, -whose extemporal vein in any humour, will excel our greatest art -master's deliberate thoughts; whose invention quicker than his eye, -will challenge the proudest rhetorician, to the contention of like -perfection, with like expedition."--(Prefatory Address to Greene's -_Menaphon_.) - -[5] "But I thank God that he put it in my head, to lay open the -most horrible cosenages of the common Conny-catchers, Coseners, and -Cross-biters, which I have indifferently handled in those my several -discourses already imprinted. And my trust is that these discourses -will do great good, and be very beneficial to the commonwealth of -England."--_The Repentance of Robert Greene._ - -[6] It is regretfully that one recognises that Collins does not belong -at the head of this list. The surprising defects of the long-awaited -definitive edition of Greene must now speak for themselves; its -manifest excellences are well able to do so. - -[7] Writing in _Notes and Queries_, 1905. - -[8] _Menaphon_ was probably written a year or so earlier, but Nash's -address was probably dated from the year of publication. - -[9] If we are to believe that _Edward III._ is Marlowe's play the -reference of this passage to Marlowe is made certain, for Greene -ridicules the words 'Ave Cæsar' that occur in the play. The only other -play in which the words are known to occur is _Orlando Furioso_ by -Greene himself. It would be too much to say that their use there is in -ridicule of Marlowe, though even that is possible. - -[10] It may be, though it is not certain, that Greene was attacking -Marlowe in the epistle prefixed to his _Farewell to Folly_ (1591), in -which he tells the gentleman students that his _Mourning Garment_ had -been so popular that the pedlar found the books "too dear for his pack, -that he was fain to bargain for the life of Tomliuclin to wrap up his -sweet powders in those unsavoury papers." If "Tomliuclin" is a misprint -for Tamburlaine this is Greene's most direct and spiteful attack on -Marlowe. - -[11] Gayley, _Representative English Comedies_, p. 410. - -[12] _Orlando Furioso_, ii. 76-79; _Old Wives' Tale_, ii. 808-811. - -[13] See Storojenko, Huth Library, vol. I., p. 235, and Gayley, -_Representative English Comedies_, p. 412. - -[14] Greene's satirical use in _Never too Late_ of the words "Ave -Cæsar," which occur in _Edward III._, Act i. Sc. I, and his connecting -of them with a cobbler, seem to constitute Fleay's case. The matter has -already been mentioned in connection with Greene's jealousy of Marlowe. -The latest editor of _Edward III._, C. F. Tucker Brooke, in _The -Shakespeare Apocrypha_, ignores the supposition that the play may be -by Marlowe and dismisses the theory that it was by two hands. He puts -forward the claims of Peele, not, however, with great weight. - -[15] And for another expression of the same idea see _Friar Bacon and -Friar Bungay,_ p. 264. - -[16] The refrain, "O, what is love! it is some mighty power," occurs -with almost a lyric note in _George-a-Greene._ - -[17] _The Old Dramatists--Greene and Peele_, p. 603. - -[18] For comment on this _see_ p. lviii. - -[19] Though we accept the theory of the early composition of _A -Looking-Glass_ we fail to follow the arguments of Fleay and Gayley, -derived from the introduction of _Perimedes_ (licensed 29th March -1588), that in "the mad priest of the sun," mentioned in connection -with Atheist Tamburlaine, Greene can have any reference to the priests -of Rasni in Act iv. Scene 3. Certainly Greene could not have held up -such tame heroics for comparison with Marlowe's vigorous declamation. -Careful scrutiny fails to show that Greene was mentioning a work of his -own. The mad priests of the sun would seem rather to be other products -of the pen of Marlowe, or to be the work of some other dramatist, -possibly Kyd, whom, with Marlowe, Greene was attacking. (_See_ Koeppel -in Herrig's _Archiv_, 102, p. 357.) - -[20] Particularly the parts of Adam, Smith, and Alcon. It is hard to -suppose that Spenser in his line, "pleasing Alcon," in the _Tears of -the Muses_ (1591), could have been referring to Lodge. - -[21] As to date of the play we can say only that if Greene's it must -be the last one of his extant workmanship. It would not be safe to -draw conclusions from the mention of _George-a-Greene_ in Tarlton's -_News out of Purgatory_, as Tarlton was probably alluding to the source -of the narrative used by Greene. Nor does the mention of "martial -Tamburlaine" in the first scene help further than to indicate that the -play was written after 1587. - -[22] This name was, however, quite common in this sense, Peele himself -using it in his _Farewell_ and in _Polyhymnia_. - -[23] The reference is to the edition in _The Shakespeare Apocrypha_. - -[24] Compare this with a line in _James IV._ (Act ii. Sc. I). "Better, -than live unchaste, to lie in grave." - -[25] _See_ Gayley, _Representative English Comedies_, p. 422. Opinion -to-day seems strongly to favour the theory that it was Nash to whom -Greene referred in the famous passage in _A Groatsworth of Wit_, and -not Lodge. Considerations of age, of personal association, of the -comparative gifts of satire of Nash and Lodge strengthen this view. -Nash helped Marlowe in the composition of a tragedy; why not Greene in -the composition of a comedy? - -[26] disdain: often used. - -[27] Such repetition is common, see pp. 37, 188, 190. - -[28] Use. - -[29] Often used for "where," as "whenas" is used for "when." - -[30] Boast. - -[31] A false quantity. - -[32] Another false quantity. - -[33] Attained the position of. - -[34] Simple, rude. - -[35] Lest; often so used. - -[36] Here and on p. 59 used in the sense of "neglect" or "refrain from." - -[37] Care. - -[38] It should be remembered that the scene divisions are not made by -Greene. - -[39] In Elizabethan writers this term is used in both genders to -express general relationship. Here it means cousin. - -[40] Strive, contend. - -[41] Upbraid. - -[42] Same as "vile." - -[43] Resent. - -[44] In the use of the descending throne, trap-door, property tomb, -balcony and curtain, as well as in plastic use of scenes (pp. 42 and -248) Greene illustrates the best practice of his time. - -[45] Advise. - -[46] Here clearly a change of scene is supposed. Between the two scenes -the Quarto has only this stage direction to Fausta: "Make as though you -were a-going out, _Medea_ meet her and say." As some time is supposed -to elapse between the two scenes they are here differentiated. Such is -not the case in _George-a-Greene_ (p. 439) in which the action goes -right on in two settings. - -[47] Prepared. - -[48] Among Elizabethan playwrights the use of the names of English -institutions, prisons, cathedrals and inns, in foreign scene-settings, -is quite common. - -[49] Evidently a reminiscence of I Kings xviii. 27. - -[50] Sex. - -[51] A false quantity. - -[52] Dyce's query "loadstar" is adopted instead of "load-stone" of the -quarto. - -[53] Over-scrupulous. - -[54] Exult, strut. - -[55] From this line we are made to conclude that Greene intended to -write a second part of _Alphonsus of Arragon._ - -[56] Lover. - -[57] Beat back. - -[58] Degree. - -[59] Beauty. - -[60] Because. - -[61] Dyce's suggestion is accepted instead of "either" of the quartos. - -[62] Pearls. - -[63] Foolish. - -[64] In rearranging a corrupt text Dyce made "Clown" and "Adam" two -distinct persons. It is clear from the first sentence in Act iv., Scene -4, that they are identical. Clown's first three speeches are given in -the first four quartos to Smith, meaning Adam, the Smith's man. It -should be noticed that First Ruffian calls Adam "smith," and "this -paltry smith." - -[65] The same pun occurs in _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_, Act IV., -Scene I. - -[66] Requite. - -[67] Farcy. - -[68] The Quartos designate the two latter as "_A young Gentleman and a -poor Man_." - -[69] Merchandise which the borrower took in lieu of part of the sum to -be secured from the usurer. - -[70] Counterpart, duplicate. - -[71] Until. - -[72] Grave, sober. - -[73] Remilia and Alvida are assuming parts. - -[74] A proverbial expression. Compare Shakespeare's Richard III., Act -III. sc. 7: "Play the maid's part,--still answer nay, and take it." - -[75] Through a trap in the stage. - -[76] Destroyed. - -[77] A form of endearment, equivalent to "pet." - -[78] The Quarto reads, "Mark but the Prophets, we that shortly shows," -etc. J. C. Smith suggests "Prophet's woe"; J. C. Collins, "Prophet, -he," etc. - -[79] An old form of "mess." - -[80] "The term no doubt has reference to the sumptuary enactments -regulating the breadth of the lace which was allowed to be -worn."--COLLINS. - -[81] Mock-velvet. - -[82] Quarrelling, squabbling. - -[83] Business. - -[84] I bet my cap to a noble (a gold coin). - -[85] Strong ale that makes men swagger and bluster. - -[86] Sendal, "a kinde of Cypres stuffe or silke."--_Minsheu, Guide into -the Tongues_, 1617. Sussapine is supposed by Collins to be a corruption -of "gossampine," meaning a cotton cloth. - -[87] Attending to. - -[88] Toil. - -[89] Intend. - -[90] Prepared. - -[91] Pieces of silver money. - -[92] The quartos are unintelligible. This is the conjectural reading of -Mr J. C. Smith, given in Collins' edition. - -[93] Compassion. - -[94] Rustic dialect for "I trow I taught." - -[95] The quartos have "_Enters_ RADAGON _solus_." - -[96] Straits. - -[97] Drab. - -[98] Printed "Satropos," but the word is a title and not a proper name. - -[99] A faggot in a hostelry, which is kept alight by the guests. - -[100] "Bird" is the young of an animal. Adam is talking euphuistical -nonsense. - -[101] A leathern bag or bottle for wine. - -[102] _White_ is an epithet of endearment. - -[103] A lease by word of mouth. - -[104] "Drabler, an additional piece of canvas, laced to the bottom of -the bonnet of a sail, to give it greater depth."--(N. E. D.) - -[105] Bisa; the north wind. - -[106] Cotton-cloth, or bumbast. - -[107] Press, similar to "mease" for "mess," p. 102. - -[108] Ready. - -[109] Companion, therefore--equal. - -[110] Axis. - -[111] Confound, therefore to destroy. - -[112] Adyt; the innermost sanctuary of a temple. - -[113] "The ale" here means the ale-house, as it does in Shakespeare's -_Two Gentlemen of Verona_ (II. 5). - -[114] A famous comic trick in the early plays. Adam is a late figure of -the Vice type. Compare _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay_ (V. 2) in which -Miles is carried off on a Devil's back. - -[115] Bold, brave. - -[116] An instrument used by pick-pockets in cutting purses. - -[117] To shave or cut, therefore to pillage, plunder. - -[118] To draw, to pour; here used in the sense of "to fill." - -[119] Let all the standing-bowls go round. - -[120] This is the emendation by J. C. Smith, given in Collins' edition, -of the unintelligible "Lamana" of the quartos. - -[121] A reminiscence of Kyd's _Spanish Tragedy_ (Scene XII), in which -Hieronimo enters with a poniard and a rope. - -[122] Decoys. - -[123] Know not. - -[124] A very faithful paraphrase of chapter 4 of the book of _Jonah_. - -[125] Wide breeches, here breeches pockets. - -[126] The head of a red-herring. The term may have become synonymous -with the fish itself. Adam's meaning cannot be said to be very clear. - -[127] I could endure. - -[128] A fine white bread. - -[129] Breeches. - -[130] The quartos give "Lepher," which is unintelligible. This reading -is Dyce's conjecture. It is of little moment that these places are not -plains but mountains. - -[131] Own. - -[132] The title in the quartos was "The History of Orlando Furioso, one -of the Twelve Peers of France." - -[133] Judgment. - -[134] "To man" is a term in falconry, and means to accustom to man, to -make tractable. - -[135] Cuirasses. - -[136] A false quantity. - -[137] Dominion. - -[138] Here as elsewhere improperly used as the name of a place. - -[139] These four lines occur nearly verbatim towards the end of Peele's -_Old Wives' Tale_, ll. 885-8. - -[140] Pearls. - -[141] Cliffs. - -[142] Same as French _rebattre_, beat back. - -[143] An allusion to the recent repulse of the Spanish Armada. - -[144] Blasts. - -[145] Giglot, a wanton woman. - -[146] Thraso and Gnatho were well-known characters in the _Eunuchus_ -of Terence, and references to them are very common in the works of -Elizabethan writers. - -[147] Hurled, dashed to pieces. - -[148] In his _Francesco's Fortunes_ Greene satirizes "Ave Cæsar" as it -occurs in _Edward III._, presumably by Marlowe. - -[149] Love. - -[150] Confounded, dismayed. - -[151] At this point the Alleyn manuscript begins. - -[152] The first four of these lines are, with the exception of the last -half of the first line, from the 117th stanza of the twenty-seventh -Canto of Ariosto's _Orlando Furioso_; the other four are from the 121st -stanza of the same Canto. - -[153] A corrupt passage is here supplemented by words from the Alleyn -manuscript. - -[154] A streamer attached to a lance. - -[155] See _Odyssey_ X. 302, and following. A stock reference in -Euphuism. - -[156] A phrase signifying excess; probably "understanding" should be -supplied. - -[157] Mad. - -[158] Another false quantity. - -[159] The designation in the quartos is "the Clown." - -[160] Makes Canopus look dark. - -[161] Fiddler is undoubtedly played by Tom, the clown who had before -played Angelica. See the next speech. - -[162] Apprehend, take in. - -[163] Signifying that the actor could extemporise as he chose. _Ad -lib., ad libitum_ would now be the direction. - -[164] The Muses. - -[165] A corrupt passage is here supplemented by four lines from the -Alleyn manuscript. - -[166] An interesting reminder of the exigencies of Elizabethan stage -technique. The scenes represent different localities, but as Sacripant -dies at the end of a scene, his body remains on the stage until removed -by the best means possible. - -[167] Silly-minded. - -[168] Amiss, fault. - -[169] In spite of, notwithstanding. - -[170] Orlando is adapting his language to his disguise. - -[171] Splendid. - -[172] "A kinde of Cipres stuffe or silke." Minsheu, _Guide into the -Tongues,_ 1617. - -[173] Outstripped. - -[174] Hunting-dogs. - -[175] A coarse woolen cloth. - -[176] For _alamort_: dejected. - -[177] Pearls. - -[178] Cliffs. - -[179] Rarer. - -[180] Made that woman blush. That, etc. - -[181] Pocket. - -[182] Pass by, outstrip. - -[183] Be you assured. - -[184] The magical five-rayed star used as a defence against demons. - -[185] Care not for. - -[186] Guests. - -[187] Confounded. - -[188] In Bacon's day Brasenose College was not in existence. - -[189] Bargain. - -[190] Edward could not have fought before Damascus. - -[191] Swaggering. - -[192] Equivalent to "'swounds," "God's wounds." - -[193] Tied by love. - -[194] A glass which reflects magically distant or future events and -scenes. - -[195] Leathern wine-jugs. - -[196] "After Bacon and Edward had walked a few paces about (or perhaps -towards the back of) the stage, the audience were to suppose that the -scene was changed to the interior of Bacon's cell."--DYCE. - -[197] "Perhaps the curtain which concealed the upper stage ... was -withdrawn, discovering Margaret and Bungay standing there, and when the -representation in the glass was supposed to be over, the curtain was -drawn back again."--DYCE. - -[198] An allusion to the proverb, "Early up and never the nearer." - -[199] Breviary, portable prayer-book. - -[200] Bullies. - -[201] Skeltonical verse. - -[202] A term of endearment. - -[203] Loose shoes. - -[204] The allusion is to Alexander Barclay's English version (1509) of -Sebastian Brant's _Narrenschiff_. - -[205] "An expression borrowed from the author whose style is here -imitated-- - - "_Construas hoc,_ - _Domine_ Dawcocke! - 'Ware the Hauke, Skelton."--DYCE. - -[206] A prison in the old north gate of Oxford, so named after one of -the moods of the third syllogistic figure. - -[207] A dance resembling the waltz or polka. - -[208] Overturned; literal transference from the Latin. - -[209] Nourishing to cattle, productive. - -[210] Laden. - -[211] Trismegistus. - -[212] Porphyry. - -[213] An atom compared with. - -[214] Possibly the reference is to Lutetia (Paris) rather than Utrecht, -which was not yet a university town. - -[215] Love-kindling looks. - -[216] "The salt-cellar, generally a very large and massive one, stood -in the middle of the table; guests of superior rank always sat above it -towards the upper part of the table, those of inferior rank below it -towards the bottom."--COLLINS. - -[217] Spices. - -[218] Dried plums. - -[219] Sugar plums. - -[220] Protuberant. - -[221] Cliffs. - -[222] The stage direction is, "_Enter Friar Bacon drawing the curtains, -with a white stick, a book in his hand,_" etc. - -[223] Greene uses the same pun in _A Looking Glass_, Act I. scene 2. - -[224] A watchman's pike or halbert. - -[225] Miles' blundering reminiscences of "Cunctator." - -[226] Miles is here punning on "coursed." - -[227] Beyond all measure. - -[228] These are discovered in the upper stage just as Margaret and -Friar Bungay were discovered in Act. II. scene 3. - -[229] Venture. - -[230] A bout. - -[231] Dyce suggests that Greene here meant "scholars." Gayley suggests -that Bacon may have taken the glass. - -[232] Britons. - -[233] _Mutton_ is a cant term for a prostitute. - -[234] _Welt_ and _guard_ are synonymous: without facing or ornament, as -these are against the statute. - -[235] A pack. - -[236] "The 'curtana' or 'pointless sword' of mercy; the 'pointed sword' -of justice; the 'golden rod' of equity."--GAYLEY. - -[237] Here begins a compliment to Queen Elizabeth. - -[238] The complete title of the 1598 edition was, "The Scottish History -of James the Fourth, Slain at Flodden. Intermixed with a pleasant -comedy, presented by Oberon King of Fairies." - -[239] "A technical term for the burlesque dance of an anti-masque, -and there being several performers takes a plural verb."--W. W. Greg, -_Modern Language Review_, I., p. 248. - -[240] Collins defines this, after Skeat, as a stableman, a -stable-cleaner. - -[241] My quiet. - -[242] I'll make. - -[243] Erewhile. Greene's Scottish dialect is not very accurate. - -[244] Advise. - -[245] Contradict. - -[246] Sword, dagger. - -[247] Never the nearer: a favourite phrase with old writers. - -[248] Some words are wanting here. - -[249] Hold you your chattering. - -[250] Decoys. - -[251] Hold back. - -[252] "To" is here used in the sense of "compared with." - -[253] Tablets, memorandum books. - -[254] My soul. - -[255] Dwelt. - -[256] Greene probably intended a Scotch dialect form of "lovely." - -[257] The player was expected to extemporise until off the stage. - -[258] The scene between Bohan and Oberon may properly be entitled -"Chorus," as such scenes appear at the end of each act with the -exception of the fifth. The relationship of the three dumb shows with -the play as a whole and with each other has not been explained. In many -places the text is hopelessly corrupt. - -[259] The entire passage is so corrupt as to be unintelligible. - -[260] Manly's readjustment of a corrupt passage, based upon a -suggestion by Kittredge, has been accepted. - -[261] The song is not inserted. It was not necessarily composed by the -author of the play. - -[262] Frown. - -[263] Words that describe you. - -[264] Cozener's terms. - -[265] Prepared, ready. - -[266] What then? - -[267] Gnatho is the parasite in the _Eunuchus_ of Terence. Here and -elsewhere in this play the name refers specifically to Ateukin. - -[268] Printed "Gnatho." - -[269] Silent. - -[270] The text of this Chorus is very corrupt. - -[271] A piece of money worth from 6_s._ to 10_s._ Puns upon the several -meanings of the word were frequent. - -[272] Strike, beat. - -[273] ϕιλαυτία, self-love, Collier's emendation of a meaningless -passage in the quartos. - -[274] The word "gentlemen" is addressed to the audience. - -[275] An Irish coin below the value of the earliest shilling, so called -from having a harp on it. - -[276] Babbler, chatterer. - -[277] Strut. - -[278] This lyrical passage was undoubtedly sung. - -[279] See _Æneid_ XII., 411; a favourite allusion of the Euphuists. - -[280] Again addressed to the audience. - -[281] A church seat for loungers, the original in Carfax Church, -Oxford. To sit on Pennyless Bench indicated extreme poverty. - -[282] Kittredge's emendation. For the unintelligible "lakus" of the -quarto one would accept Collier's conjecture "Jack-ass," were it not -for the fact, enunciated by Collins (after N. E. D.), that this word -was unknown before the eighteenth century. - -[283] Collier's emendation for "a rapier and dagger," it being clear -that Slipper has miscalled the weapons. - -[284] So also in the quarto, line 5, scene v. of this act, French "oui" -is spelled "wee." - -[285] Shrew. - -[286] Love. - -[287] The sword of Sir Bevis of Southampton; the common synonym for a -sword. - -[288] Manly's suggested emendation of the meaningless "His grave, I -see, is made," of the quarto. - -[289] Revive, resuscitate him. - -[290] Waiting for. - -[291] "To the speeches of the King of England throughout this scene -is prefixed _Arius_. Collier remarks, _History of English Dramatic -Poetry_, iii. 161, 'It is a singular circumstance that the King of -England is called _Arius_, as if Greene at the time he wrote had some -scruple in naming Henry VIII. on account of the danger of giving -offence to the Queen and Court.'"--COLLINS. - -[292] Pillage, plunder. - -[293] Tried, skilled. - -[294] Then. - -[295] From this point the scene is confused. - -[296] Grimaces. - -[297] Truest love of all. - -[298] By dramatic convention this speech should belong to the King of -Scots. - -[299] One who impounds stray cattle. - -[300] Lower. - -[301] Inroad. - -[302] In ballad style, though not found in the ballad "The Jolly Pinder -of Wakefield." - -[303] Affections. - -[304] For "enjoin." - -[305] A woman who sells "souce" or brine for pickling. - -[306] "Allusions to velvet as being costly, fine, and luxurious are -very common in the Elizabethan writers."--COLLINS. - -[307] Pay the penalty for. - -[308] Lose. - -[309] Here the scene may be supposed to have changed, although George -has not left the stage. In the quarto the scene runs on without break. - -[310] Through a door at the back of the stage. - -[311] Love. - -[312] Colour, complexion. - -[313] The stage direction in the quarto is: Enter a Shoemaker sitting -upon the stage at work: Jenkin to him. - -[314] Beggar. - -[315] Bold, brave. - -[316] See the ballad printed in the Appendix. - -[317] Dear. - -[318] Derived first from the language of the chase, this phrase -probably came to mean "dogs of all kinds." - -[319] Confound. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Robert Greene, by Robert Greene - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBERT GREENE *** - -***** This file should be named 55769-0.txt or 55769-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/7/6/55769/ - -Produced by Clare Graham & Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature -(online soon in an extended version,also linking to free -sources for education worldwide ... 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