ACT IVSCENE I. Valencia. The CourtSound Music. Enter theKing of Valencia, Anselmo, Roderigo, Lord Borachius,with others.KING OF VALENCIA.Enough of music, it but adds to torment,Delights to vexed spirits are as datesSet to a sickly man, which rather cloy than comfort;Let me entreat you to repeat no more.RODERIGO.Let your strings sleep, have done there.[Music ceases.]KING OF VALENCIA.Mirth to a soul disturb’d are embers turn’dWhich sudden gleam with molestation,But sooner lose their light for it.’Tis gold bestow’d upon a rioter,Which not relieves but murders him; a drugGiven to the healthful, which infects, not cures.How can a father that hath lost his son,A prince both virtuous, wise, and valiant,Take pleasure in the idle acts of time?No, no; till Mucedorus I shall see again,All joy is comfortless, all pleasure pain.ANSELMO.Your son, my lord, is well.KING OF VALENCIA.I prythee, speak that twice.ANSELMO.The prince, your son, is safe.KING OF VALENCIA.O where, Anselmo? Surfeit me with that!ANSELMO.In Aragon, my liege;And at his ’parture bound my secrecy,By his affection’s loss, not to disclose it.But care of him, and pity of your age,Makes my tongue blab what my breast vow’d—concealment.KING OF VALENCIA.Thou not deceivest me.I ever thought thee what I find thee now,An upright, loyal man.But what desire, or young-fed humour, nurs’dWithin the brain, drew him so privatelyTo Aragon?ANSELMO.A forcing adamant:Love, mix’d with fear and doubtful jealousy,Whether report gilded a worthless trunk,Or Amadine deserved her high extolment.KING OF VALENCIA.See, our provision be in readiness,Collect us followers of the comeliest hueFor our chief guardians; we will thither wend.The crystal eye of heaven shall not thrice wink,Nor the green flood six times his shoulders turn,Till we salute the Aragonian king.Music, speak loudly now, the season’s apt,For former dolours are in pleasure wrapt.[Music. Exeunt omnes.]SCENE II. The ForestEnterMucedorus,to disguise himself.MUCEDORUS.Now, Mucedorus, whither wilt thou go?Home to thy father, to thy native soil,Or try some long abode within these woods?Well, I will hence depart, and hie me home.What, hie me home, said I? That may not be;In Amadine rests my felicity.Then, Mucedorus, do as thou didst decree,Attire thee hermit-like within these groves;Walk often to the beech and view the well;Make settles there, and seat thyself thereon,And when thou feel’st thyself to be athirst,Then drink a hearty draught to Amadine.No doubt, she thinks on thee,And will one day come pledge thee at this well.Come, habit, thou art fit for me.[He disguiseth himself.]No shepherd now, a hermit I must be.Methinks this fits me very well;Now must I learn to bear a walking staff,And exercise some gravity withal.Enter theClown.MOUSE.Here’s through the woods, and through the woods, to look out a shepherd and a stray king’s-daughter. But soft! Who have we here? What art thou?MUCEDORUS.I am a hermit.MOUSE.An emmet, I never saw such a big emmet in all my life before.MUCEDORUS.I tell you, sir, I am a hermit: oneThat leads a solitary life within these woods.MOUSE.Oh, I know thee now, thou art he that eats up all the hips and haws; we could not have one piece of fat bacon for thee all this year.MUCEDORUS.Thou dost mistake me, but I pray thee, tell meWhat dost thou seek for in these woods?MOUSE.What do I seek for? A stray king’s-daughter run away with a shepherd.MUCEDORUS.A stray king’s-daughter run away with a shepherd?Wherefore? Canst thou tell?MOUSE.Yes, that I can; ’tis this. My master and Amadine walking one day abroad, nearer to these woods than they were used, about what I can not tell; but toward them comes running a great bear. Now, my master, he played the man and ran away, and Amadine crying after him: now, sir, comes me a shepherd, and strikes off the bear’s head. Now, whether the bear were dead before or no, I cannot tell; for bring twenty bears before me, and bind their hands and feet, and I’ll kill them all. Now, ever since, Amadine hath been in love with the shepherd, and for goodwill, she’s even run away with the shepherd.MUCEDORUS.What manner of man was he? Canst thou describe him unto me?MOUSE.Scribe him? Ay, I warrant you, that I can; a was a little, low, broad, tall, narrow, big, well-favoured fellow, a jerkin of white cloth, and buttons of the same cloth.MUCEDORUS.Thou describest him well; but if I chance to see any such, pray you, where shall I find you, or what’s your name?MOUSE.My name is called Master Mouse.MUCEDORUS.O Master Mouse, I pray you what office might you bear in the court?MOUSE.Marry, sir, I am a rusher of the stable.MUCEDORUS.Oh, usher of the table.MOUSE.Nay, I say rusher, and I’ll prove my office good; for look, sir, when any comes from under the sea or so, and a dog chance to blow his nose backward, then with a whip I give him the good time of the day, and strow rushes presently. Therefore, I am a rusher, a high office, I promise ye.MUCEDORUS.But where shall I find you in the court?MOUSE.Why, where it is best being, either in the kitchen eating, or in the buttery drinking. But if you come, I will provide for thee a piece of beef and brewis knuckle-deep in fat; pray you, take pains, remember Master Mouse.[Exit.]MUCEDORUS.Ay, sir, I warrant I will not forget you.Ah, Amadine! What should become of thee?Whither shouldst thou go so long unknown?With watch and ward each passage is beset,So that she cannot long escape unknown.Doubtless she’s lost herself within these woods,And wand’ring to and fro she seeks the well,Which yet she cannot find; therefore I’ll seek her out.[Exit.]SCENE III. The sameEnterBremoandAmadine.BREMO.Amadine, how like you Bremo and his woods?AMADINE.As like the woods of Bremo’s cruelty.Though I were dumb, and could not answer him,The beasts themselves would with relenting tearsBewail thy savage and unhumane deeds.BREMO.My love, why dost thou murmur to thyself?Speak louder, for thy Bremo hears thee not.AMADINE.My Bremo? No, the shepherd is my love.BREMO.Have I not saved thee from sudden death,Giving thee leave to live, that thou mightst love,And dost thou whet me on to cruelty?Come, kiss me, sweet, for all my favours past.AMADINE.I may not, Bremo, and therefore pardon me.BREMO.See, how she flies away from me! I’ll followAnd give attent to her. Deny my love![Aside.] Ah, worm of beauty, I will chastice thee!Come, come, prepare thy head upon the block.AMADINE.Oh, spare me, Bremo, love should limit life,Not to be made a murderer of himself.If thou wilt glut thy loving heart with blood,Encounter with the lion or the bear,And like a wolf, prey not upon a lamb.BREMO.Why, then, dost thou repine at me?If thou wilt love me, thou shalt be my queen,I will crown thee with a chaplet made of ivy,And make the rose and lily wait on thee.I’ll rend the burly branches from the oak,To shadow thee from burning sun.The trees shall spread themselves where thou dost go,And as they spread, I’ll trace along with thee.AMADINE.[Aside.] You may, for who but you?BREMO.Thou shalt be fed with quails and partridges,With blackbirds, thrushes, larks and nightingales.Thy drink shall be goats’ milk and crystal water,Distill’d from th’ fountains and the clearest springs,And all the dainties that the woods afford.I’ll freely give thee to obtain thy love.AMADINE.[Aside.] You may, for who but you?BREMO.The day I’ll spend to recreate my loveWith all the pleasures that I can devise,And in the night I’ll be thy bed-fellow,And lovingly embrace thee in mine arms.AMADINE.[Aside.] One may, so may not you.BREMO.The satyrs and the wood-nymphs shall attendOn thee and lull thee ’sleep with music’s sound,And in the morning, when thou dost awake,The lark shall sing good morrow to my queen,And whilst he sings, I’ll kiss my Amadine.AMADINE.[Aside.] You may, for who but you?BREMO.When thou art up, the wood-lanes shall be strew’dWith violets, cowslips, and sweet marigolds,For thee to trample and to tread upon;And I will teach thee how to kill the deer,To chase the hart, and how to rouse the roe,If thou wilt live to love and honour me.AMADINE.[Aside.] You may, for who but you?EnterMucedorus.BREMO.Welcome, sir!An hour ago I look’d for such a guest.Be merry, wench, we’ll have a frolic feast,Here’s flesh enough for to suffice us both,Stay, sirrah, wilt thou fight, or dost thou yield to die?MUCEDORUS.I want a weapon, how can I fight?BREMO.Thou want’st a weapon, then thou yield’st to die.MUCEDORUS.I say not so, I do not yield to die.BREMO.Thou shalt not choose. I long to see thee dead.AMADINE.Yet spare him, Bremo, spare him.BREMO.Away, I say, I will not spare him.MUCEDORUS.Yet give me leave to speak.BREMO.Thou shalt not speak.AMADINE.Yet give him leave to speak for my sake.BREMO.Speak on, but be not over-long.MUCEDORUS.In time of yore, when men like brutish beastsDid lead their lives in loathsome cells and woods,And wholly gave themselves to witless will,A rude unruly rout, then man to manBecame a present prey, then might prevailed,The weakest went to wall.Right was unknown, for wrong was all in all.As men thus lived in this great outrage,Behold, one Orpheus came, as poets tell,And them from rudeness unto reason brought,Who led by reason, soon forsook the woods;Instead of caves, they built them castles strong;Cities and towns were founded by them then.Glad were they, that they found such ease,And in the end they grew to perfect amity.Weighing their former wickedness,They term’d the time wherein they lived thenA golden age, a goodly golden age.Now, Bremo, for so I hear thee called,If men which lived tofore, as thou dost now,Wild in the woods, addicted all to spoil,Returned were by worthy Orpheus’ means,Let me, like Orpheus, cause thee to returnFrom murder, bloodshed, and like cruelty.What, should we fight before we have a cause?No, let us live and love together faithfully.I’ll fight for thee—BREMO.Or fight for me, or die: or fight or else thou diest!AMADINE.Hold, Bremo, hold!BREMO.Away, I say, thou troublest me.AMADINE.You promised me to make me your queen.BREMO.I did, I mean no less.AMADINE.You promised that I should have my will.BREMO.I did, I mean no less.AMADINE.Then save this hermit’s life, for he may save us both.BREMO.At thy request I’ll spare him,But never any after him. Say, hermit,What canst thou do?MUCEDORUS.I’ll wait on thee, sometime upon the queen.[Aside.] Such service shalt thou shortly have; as Bremo never had.[Exeunt.]SCENE IV. The CourtEnterSegasto,theClownandRumbelo.SEGASTO.Come, sirs; what, shall I never have you find out Amadine and the shepherd?MOUSE.I have been through the woods and through the woods, and could see nothing but an emet.RUMBELO.Why, I see a thousand emets. Thou meanest a little one?MOUSE.Nay, that emet that I saw was bigger than thou art.RUMBELO.Bigger than I? [To Segasto.] What a fool have you to your man! I pray you, master, turn him away.SEGASTO.But dost thou hear, was he not a man?MOUSE.I think he was, for he said he did lead a saltseller’s life about the woods.SEGASTO.Thou wouldst say, a solitary life about the woods?MOUSE.I think it was so, indeed.RUMBELO.I thought what a fool thou art.MOUSE.Thou art a wise man! [To Segasto.] Why, he did nothing but sleep since he went.SEGASTO.But tell me, Mouse, how did he go?MOUSE.In a white gown, and a white hat on his head, and a staff in his hand.SEGASTO.I thought so; it was a hermit that walked a solitary life in the woods. Well, get you to dinner; and after never leave seeking, till you bring some news of them, or I’ll hang you both.[Exit.]MOUSE.How now, Rumbelo, what shall we do now?RUMBELO.Faith, I’ll home to dinner, and afterward to sleep.MOUSE.Why, then, thou wilt be hanged.RUMBELO.Faith, I care not, for I know I shall never find them. Well, I’ll once more abroad, and if I cannot find them, I’ll never come home again.MOUSE.I tell thee what, Rumbelo; thou shalt go in at one end of the wood, and I at the other, and we will meet both together in the midst.RUMBELO.Content, let’s away to dinner.[Exeunt.]
Sound Music. Enter theKing of Valencia, Anselmo, Roderigo, Lord Borachius,with others.
KING OF VALENCIA.Enough of music, it but adds to torment,Delights to vexed spirits are as datesSet to a sickly man, which rather cloy than comfort;Let me entreat you to repeat no more.
RODERIGO.Let your strings sleep, have done there.
[Music ceases.]
KING OF VALENCIA.Mirth to a soul disturb’d are embers turn’dWhich sudden gleam with molestation,But sooner lose their light for it.’Tis gold bestow’d upon a rioter,Which not relieves but murders him; a drugGiven to the healthful, which infects, not cures.How can a father that hath lost his son,A prince both virtuous, wise, and valiant,Take pleasure in the idle acts of time?No, no; till Mucedorus I shall see again,All joy is comfortless, all pleasure pain.
ANSELMO.Your son, my lord, is well.
KING OF VALENCIA.I prythee, speak that twice.
ANSELMO.The prince, your son, is safe.
KING OF VALENCIA.O where, Anselmo? Surfeit me with that!
ANSELMO.In Aragon, my liege;And at his ’parture bound my secrecy,By his affection’s loss, not to disclose it.But care of him, and pity of your age,Makes my tongue blab what my breast vow’d—concealment.
KING OF VALENCIA.Thou not deceivest me.I ever thought thee what I find thee now,An upright, loyal man.But what desire, or young-fed humour, nurs’dWithin the brain, drew him so privatelyTo Aragon?
ANSELMO.A forcing adamant:Love, mix’d with fear and doubtful jealousy,Whether report gilded a worthless trunk,Or Amadine deserved her high extolment.
KING OF VALENCIA.See, our provision be in readiness,Collect us followers of the comeliest hueFor our chief guardians; we will thither wend.The crystal eye of heaven shall not thrice wink,Nor the green flood six times his shoulders turn,Till we salute the Aragonian king.Music, speak loudly now, the season’s apt,For former dolours are in pleasure wrapt.
[Music. Exeunt omnes.]
EnterMucedorus,to disguise himself.
MUCEDORUS.Now, Mucedorus, whither wilt thou go?Home to thy father, to thy native soil,Or try some long abode within these woods?Well, I will hence depart, and hie me home.What, hie me home, said I? That may not be;In Amadine rests my felicity.Then, Mucedorus, do as thou didst decree,Attire thee hermit-like within these groves;Walk often to the beech and view the well;Make settles there, and seat thyself thereon,And when thou feel’st thyself to be athirst,Then drink a hearty draught to Amadine.No doubt, she thinks on thee,And will one day come pledge thee at this well.Come, habit, thou art fit for me.
[He disguiseth himself.]
No shepherd now, a hermit I must be.Methinks this fits me very well;Now must I learn to bear a walking staff,And exercise some gravity withal.
Enter theClown.
MOUSE.Here’s through the woods, and through the woods, to look out a shepherd and a stray king’s-daughter. But soft! Who have we here? What art thou?
MUCEDORUS.I am a hermit.
MOUSE.An emmet, I never saw such a big emmet in all my life before.
MUCEDORUS.I tell you, sir, I am a hermit: oneThat leads a solitary life within these woods.
MOUSE.Oh, I know thee now, thou art he that eats up all the hips and haws; we could not have one piece of fat bacon for thee all this year.
MUCEDORUS.Thou dost mistake me, but I pray thee, tell meWhat dost thou seek for in these woods?
MOUSE.What do I seek for? A stray king’s-daughter run away with a shepherd.
MUCEDORUS.A stray king’s-daughter run away with a shepherd?Wherefore? Canst thou tell?
MOUSE.Yes, that I can; ’tis this. My master and Amadine walking one day abroad, nearer to these woods than they were used, about what I can not tell; but toward them comes running a great bear. Now, my master, he played the man and ran away, and Amadine crying after him: now, sir, comes me a shepherd, and strikes off the bear’s head. Now, whether the bear were dead before or no, I cannot tell; for bring twenty bears before me, and bind their hands and feet, and I’ll kill them all. Now, ever since, Amadine hath been in love with the shepherd, and for goodwill, she’s even run away with the shepherd.
MUCEDORUS.What manner of man was he? Canst thou describe him unto me?
MOUSE.Scribe him? Ay, I warrant you, that I can; a was a little, low, broad, tall, narrow, big, well-favoured fellow, a jerkin of white cloth, and buttons of the same cloth.
MUCEDORUS.Thou describest him well; but if I chance to see any such, pray you, where shall I find you, or what’s your name?
MOUSE.My name is called Master Mouse.
MUCEDORUS.O Master Mouse, I pray you what office might you bear in the court?
MOUSE.Marry, sir, I am a rusher of the stable.
MUCEDORUS.Oh, usher of the table.
MOUSE.Nay, I say rusher, and I’ll prove my office good; for look, sir, when any comes from under the sea or so, and a dog chance to blow his nose backward, then with a whip I give him the good time of the day, and strow rushes presently. Therefore, I am a rusher, a high office, I promise ye.
MUCEDORUS.But where shall I find you in the court?
MOUSE.Why, where it is best being, either in the kitchen eating, or in the buttery drinking. But if you come, I will provide for thee a piece of beef and brewis knuckle-deep in fat; pray you, take pains, remember Master Mouse.
[Exit.]
MUCEDORUS.Ay, sir, I warrant I will not forget you.Ah, Amadine! What should become of thee?Whither shouldst thou go so long unknown?With watch and ward each passage is beset,So that she cannot long escape unknown.Doubtless she’s lost herself within these woods,And wand’ring to and fro she seeks the well,Which yet she cannot find; therefore I’ll seek her out.
[Exit.]
EnterBremoandAmadine.
BREMO.Amadine, how like you Bremo and his woods?
AMADINE.As like the woods of Bremo’s cruelty.Though I were dumb, and could not answer him,The beasts themselves would with relenting tearsBewail thy savage and unhumane deeds.
BREMO.My love, why dost thou murmur to thyself?Speak louder, for thy Bremo hears thee not.
AMADINE.My Bremo? No, the shepherd is my love.
BREMO.Have I not saved thee from sudden death,Giving thee leave to live, that thou mightst love,And dost thou whet me on to cruelty?Come, kiss me, sweet, for all my favours past.
AMADINE.I may not, Bremo, and therefore pardon me.
BREMO.See, how she flies away from me! I’ll followAnd give attent to her. Deny my love![Aside.] Ah, worm of beauty, I will chastice thee!Come, come, prepare thy head upon the block.
AMADINE.Oh, spare me, Bremo, love should limit life,Not to be made a murderer of himself.If thou wilt glut thy loving heart with blood,Encounter with the lion or the bear,And like a wolf, prey not upon a lamb.
BREMO.Why, then, dost thou repine at me?If thou wilt love me, thou shalt be my queen,I will crown thee with a chaplet made of ivy,And make the rose and lily wait on thee.I’ll rend the burly branches from the oak,To shadow thee from burning sun.The trees shall spread themselves where thou dost go,And as they spread, I’ll trace along with thee.
AMADINE.[Aside.] You may, for who but you?
BREMO.Thou shalt be fed with quails and partridges,With blackbirds, thrushes, larks and nightingales.Thy drink shall be goats’ milk and crystal water,Distill’d from th’ fountains and the clearest springs,And all the dainties that the woods afford.I’ll freely give thee to obtain thy love.
AMADINE.[Aside.] You may, for who but you?
BREMO.The day I’ll spend to recreate my loveWith all the pleasures that I can devise,And in the night I’ll be thy bed-fellow,And lovingly embrace thee in mine arms.
AMADINE.[Aside.] One may, so may not you.
BREMO.The satyrs and the wood-nymphs shall attendOn thee and lull thee ’sleep with music’s sound,And in the morning, when thou dost awake,The lark shall sing good morrow to my queen,And whilst he sings, I’ll kiss my Amadine.
AMADINE.[Aside.] You may, for who but you?
BREMO.When thou art up, the wood-lanes shall be strew’dWith violets, cowslips, and sweet marigolds,For thee to trample and to tread upon;And I will teach thee how to kill the deer,To chase the hart, and how to rouse the roe,If thou wilt live to love and honour me.
AMADINE.[Aside.] You may, for who but you?
EnterMucedorus.
BREMO.Welcome, sir!An hour ago I look’d for such a guest.Be merry, wench, we’ll have a frolic feast,Here’s flesh enough for to suffice us both,Stay, sirrah, wilt thou fight, or dost thou yield to die?
MUCEDORUS.I want a weapon, how can I fight?
BREMO.Thou want’st a weapon, then thou yield’st to die.
MUCEDORUS.I say not so, I do not yield to die.
BREMO.Thou shalt not choose. I long to see thee dead.
AMADINE.Yet spare him, Bremo, spare him.
BREMO.Away, I say, I will not spare him.
MUCEDORUS.Yet give me leave to speak.
BREMO.Thou shalt not speak.
AMADINE.Yet give him leave to speak for my sake.
BREMO.Speak on, but be not over-long.
MUCEDORUS.In time of yore, when men like brutish beastsDid lead their lives in loathsome cells and woods,And wholly gave themselves to witless will,A rude unruly rout, then man to manBecame a present prey, then might prevailed,The weakest went to wall.Right was unknown, for wrong was all in all.As men thus lived in this great outrage,Behold, one Orpheus came, as poets tell,And them from rudeness unto reason brought,Who led by reason, soon forsook the woods;Instead of caves, they built them castles strong;Cities and towns were founded by them then.Glad were they, that they found such ease,And in the end they grew to perfect amity.Weighing their former wickedness,They term’d the time wherein they lived thenA golden age, a goodly golden age.Now, Bremo, for so I hear thee called,If men which lived tofore, as thou dost now,Wild in the woods, addicted all to spoil,Returned were by worthy Orpheus’ means,Let me, like Orpheus, cause thee to returnFrom murder, bloodshed, and like cruelty.What, should we fight before we have a cause?No, let us live and love together faithfully.I’ll fight for thee—
BREMO.Or fight for me, or die: or fight or else thou diest!
AMADINE.Hold, Bremo, hold!
BREMO.Away, I say, thou troublest me.
AMADINE.You promised me to make me your queen.
BREMO.I did, I mean no less.
AMADINE.You promised that I should have my will.
BREMO.I did, I mean no less.
AMADINE.Then save this hermit’s life, for he may save us both.
BREMO.At thy request I’ll spare him,But never any after him. Say, hermit,What canst thou do?
MUCEDORUS.I’ll wait on thee, sometime upon the queen.[Aside.] Such service shalt thou shortly have; as Bremo never had.
[Exeunt.]
EnterSegasto,theClownandRumbelo.
SEGASTO.Come, sirs; what, shall I never have you find out Amadine and the shepherd?
MOUSE.I have been through the woods and through the woods, and could see nothing but an emet.
RUMBELO.Why, I see a thousand emets. Thou meanest a little one?
MOUSE.Nay, that emet that I saw was bigger than thou art.
RUMBELO.Bigger than I? [To Segasto.] What a fool have you to your man! I pray you, master, turn him away.
SEGASTO.But dost thou hear, was he not a man?
MOUSE.I think he was, for he said he did lead a saltseller’s life about the woods.
SEGASTO.Thou wouldst say, a solitary life about the woods?
MOUSE.I think it was so, indeed.
RUMBELO.I thought what a fool thou art.
MOUSE.Thou art a wise man! [To Segasto.] Why, he did nothing but sleep since he went.
SEGASTO.But tell me, Mouse, how did he go?
MOUSE.In a white gown, and a white hat on his head, and a staff in his hand.
SEGASTO.I thought so; it was a hermit that walked a solitary life in the woods. Well, get you to dinner; and after never leave seeking, till you bring some news of them, or I’ll hang you both.
[Exit.]
MOUSE.How now, Rumbelo, what shall we do now?
RUMBELO.Faith, I’ll home to dinner, and afterward to sleep.
MOUSE.Why, then, thou wilt be hanged.
RUMBELO.Faith, I care not, for I know I shall never find them. Well, I’ll once more abroad, and if I cannot find them, I’ll never come home again.
MOUSE.I tell thee what, Rumbelo; thou shalt go in at one end of the wood, and I at the other, and we will meet both together in the midst.
RUMBELO.Content, let’s away to dinner.
[Exeunt.]