ACT THE FOURTH

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 starsAs 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 allCould not have wrong'd the patience of my mind.Post.It grieves me, damsel; but the earl is forc'dTo 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.

Friar Bacondraws 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 theBrazen Head,andMileswith 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 BelcephonHath 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 lifeHangs 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-starSends 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 workTo 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 ofnos autem glorificare;[223]but here's a nose that I warrant may be callednos autem popularefor 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 yourmemento... 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 theHeadwith 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.

Enter theEmperor,theKing of Castile, King Henry, Elinor, Prince Edward, Lacy,andRalph 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 fitTo 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 andher 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 constancyOf 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 postTo 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 EarlWith 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.

Enter, toFriar Baconin 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 fameSo 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 skillI 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 twoScholars.

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 cellA glass prospective, wherein men might seeWhatso 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.

EnterLambertandSerlsby,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 affectionAnd 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.[LambertandSerlsbyfight 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 twoScholarsstab 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 showsThat 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 soreThat ever Bacon meddled in this art.The hours I have spent in pyromantic spells,The fearful tossing in the latest nightOf 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 lifeIn pure devotion, praying to my GodThat he would save what Bacon vainly lost.[Exeunt.

EnterMargaretin nun's apparel, theKeeper,and theirFriend.

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 bloomsThat 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 heavenSoundeth the measures of a lively faith,The vain illusions of this flattering worldSeem 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 sinsTells 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 meTo 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 attireBetter befits an humble mind to GodThan all the show of rich habiliments.Farewell, O love, and, with fond love, farewellSweet 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!

EnterLacy, WarrenandErmsby,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 lifeAs die a maid? 'twere injury to meTo smother up such beauty in a cell.Mar.Lord Lacy, thinking of my former miss,How fond the prime of wanton years were spentIn 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 courtPosted with coursers to convey thee henceTo 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 kingStays 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 givenThe 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 hiedAnd 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.

Enter aDevil.

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 postUpon 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 bonesFor careless watching of his Brazen Head.See where he comes: O, he is mine!

EnterMilesin 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, forto 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. [Milesmounts on theDevil'sback.

Miles.O Lord, here's even a goodly marvel, when a man rides to hell on the devil's back! [Exeunt, theDevilroaring.

Enter theEmperorwith a pointless sword; next theKing of Castilecarrying a sword with a point;Lacycarrying the globe;Warrencarrying a rod of gold with a dove on it;[236]Ermsbywith a crown and sceptre;Princess ElinorwithMargaret,Countess of Lincoln, on her left hand;Prince Edward; King Henry; Friar Bacon;andLordsattending.

P. Edw.Great potentates, earth's miracles for state,Think that Prince Edward humbles at your feet,And, for these favours, on his martial swordHe 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 doneTo Elinor, may quite his favourites.But all this while what say you to the damesThat shine like to the crystal lamps of heaven?Emp.If but a third were added to these two,They did surpass those gorgeous imagesThat gloried Ida with rich beauty's wealth.Mar.'Tis I, my lords, who humbly on my kneeMust yield her orisons to mighty JoveFor 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 loveAs 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 marriagePortends 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 kingShall 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 enrichThe 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 isleCircled with Gihon and swift Eúphrates,In royalizing Henry's AlbionWith 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 timeCraves that we taste of naught but jouissance.Thus glories England over all the west.[Exeunt Omnes.Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci.

Three of Greene's plays,A Looking-Glass, Orlando FuriosoandFriar Bacon, are known to have been printed in 1594. Two plays,James IV.andFriar Bacon, were entered on the Stationers' Registers on the same day, 14th May 1594. It is altogether probable that the first printing ofJames 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'sHecatommithi. 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'sTaming of the ShrewandMidsummer Night's Dream.

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 toBohan.

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.

Music playing within. Enter afterOberon,King of Fairies, anAntic,[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 theAnticsfly.Oberonremains.

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, bythe 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!

EnterSlipperandNano.

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. [ExeuntSlipperandNanowith 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.

Enter theKing of England,theKing of Scots, Queen Dorothea,theCountess of Arran, Ida,andLords;with themAteukin,aloof.

K. of Scots.Brother of England, since our neighbouring landsAnd 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 griefThe heavens record, the world may witness well—To lose your presence, who are now to meA 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 enjoyThy 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 proclaimFair 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 firstWhat best befits her in a foreign land.Live, Doll, for many eyes shall look on theeWith care of honour and the present state;For she that steps to height of majestyIs 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 leavesIs 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 accordWe 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, theKing of England, Queen DorotheaandLords.[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 soulTo 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 tongueFrom babbling forth the passions of thy mind,'Less fearful silence have in subtle looksBewray'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 graceMay 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 leaveFor 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 meetA curious tongue to charm her ears with sweet.K. of Scots.Why, Ida, then I see you set at naughtThe 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 wooAnd 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 thingAs love. Had I my wish—Ida.What then?K. of Scots.Then would I placeHis 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-enterQueen DorotheaandLords.

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 behindTo 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 causeTo think upon:—[Aside]. Ida, it nips me near;It came from thence, I feel it burning here.[Exeunt all except theKing of ScotsandAteukin.Now am I free from sight of common eye,Where to myself I may disclose the griefThat 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 engraveUpon 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 menTo 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 hearThat 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 thouThat 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 causeOf 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 yoursThe whole discourse of love: Saturn combust,With direful looks, at your nativityBeheld fair Venus in her silver orb:I know, by certain axioms I have read,Your grace's griefs, and further can expressHer 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 mindsWill 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 meansTo 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 giveThis 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 tongueThan 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 aloneShalt 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 herbsThat heal the wounds of body and the mind;I'll set out charms and spells; naught else shall be leftTo 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.

EnterSlipper, Nano,andAndrew,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?

Back to Index Next