ACT THE SECOND

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 straightThe 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!

EnterHostesswith a shoulder of mutton on a spit, and aDevil.

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 yesternightThat 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 skillCannot 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 conscienceDrives 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?[ExeuntHostessandDevil.

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.

EnterMargaretandJoan; Thomas, Richard,and other Clowns; andLacydisguised 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 fairCount 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 FressingfieldCome 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 bothShall have a mate to lead us from the church.[LacywhispersMargaretin 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 termsAre 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 quaintBut 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 sonPasseth 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.

EnterKing Henry the Third,theEmperor of Germany,theKing of Castile, Elinor,andVandermast.

K. Hen.Great men of Europe, monarchs of the West,Ring'd with the walls of old Oceanus,Whose lofty surge is like the battlementsThat compass'd high-built Babel in with towers,—Welcome, my lords, welcome, brave western kings,To England's shore, whose promontory-cleevesShow 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 lordsHad 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 thereTo 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 downThe 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.

EnterRalph SimnellinPrince Edward'sapparel; andPrince Edward, Warren,andErmsbydisguised.

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?

EnterFriar BaconandMiles.

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 isEgo?

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 shutAnd conjur'd fast by magic in my sheath,Villain, here is my fist.[StrikesMilesa 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 causeWhy I did post so fast from Fressingfield,Help, friar, at a pinch, that I may haveThe love of lovely Margaret to myself,And, as I am true Prince of Wales, I'll giveLiving 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 showWhat'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.

Friar BaconandPrince Edwardgo 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 seeThis day what's done in merry Fressingfield'Twixt lovely Peggy and the Lincoln Earl.P. Edw.Friar, thou glad'st me: now shall Edward tryHow Lacy meaneth to his sovereign lord.Bacon.Stand there and look directly in the glass.

EnterMargaretandFriar 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 faceSurnamèd thee Fair Maid of Fressingfield?Mar.Yes, Bungay, and would God the lovely earlHad thatin esse, that so many sought.Bun.Fear not, the friar will not be behindTo 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.

EnterLacydisguised 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 withMargaret.

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 eyesAs 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 fairMy 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 postWith 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 fledFrom 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 birthFlatter 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 wellMade me think the shadows substances.Bacon.'Twere a long poniard, my lord, to reach betweenOxford 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 thereTo 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 friarFor mumbling up his orisons this day.Lacy.Why speak'st not, Bungay? Friar to thy book.[Bungayis mute, crying"Hud, hud."Mar.How look'st thou, friar, as a man distraught?Reft of thy senses, Bungay? show by signsIf thou be dumb, what passion holdeth thee.Lacy.He's dumb indeed. Bacon hath with his devilsEnchanted him, or else some strange diseaseOr apoplexy hath possess'd his lungs:But, Peggy, what he cannot with his bookWe'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 pleaseI'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 friarUnto thy father's lodge, to comfort himWith broths, to bring him from this hapless trance.Mar.Or else, my lord, we were passing unkindTo leave the friar so in his distress.

Enter aDevil,who carries offBungayon 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 withLacy.P. Edw.Bacon, I laugh to see the jolly friarMounted upon the devil, and how the earlFlees 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.

EnterBurden, Mason,andClement.

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 RosciusVaunted before the Roman Emperors,To welcome all the western potentates.Clem.But more; the king by letters hath foretoldThat 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 skillThe German; else there's none in Oxford canMatch 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 aConstable,withRalph Simnell, Warren, Ermsby,still disguised as before, andMiles.

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 untovobisMentitur de nobis.Burd.Who is the master and chief of this crew?Miles. Ecce asinum mundiFigura rotundi,Neat, sheat, and fine,As brisk as a cup of wine.

Burd.[toRalph]. 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 youWhat 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 ourgregis,Andfilius 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 underminethe town, that the very gardens and orchards be carried away for your summer walks.

Miles.And I, withscientiaAnd greatdiligentia,Will conjure and charm,To keep you from harm;Thatutrum horum mavis,Your very greatnavis,Like Barclay's ship,[204]From Oxford do skipWith colleges and schools,Full-loaden with fools.Quid dicis ad hoc,WorshipfulDomineDawcock?[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 henceStraight to Bocardo:[206]let the roisters lieClose 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 sacerdosThat the Bocardos,Like peasants and elves,Are meet for themselves.Mason.To the prison with them, constable.War.Well, doctors, seeing I have sported meWith 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.

EnterPrince Edwardwith his poniard in his hand,LacyandMargaret.

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 farAs 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 looksTo 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 FressingfieldWas fitter to be Lacy's wedded wife,Than concubine unto the Prince of Wales.P. Edw.Injurious Lacy, did I love thee moreThan 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 breakTh' enchainèd fetters of such private friends?Base coward, false, and too effeminateTo 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 signsBut that I lov'd Lord Lacy with my heart.Then, worthy Edward, measure with thy mindIf 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 royaltySent 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 loveNor fix her liking on the English prince—Take him away, and then the effects will fail.Villain, prepare thyself; for I will batheMy 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 loveHangs in th' uncertain balance of proud time?That death shall make a discord of our thoughts?No, stab the earl, and 'fore the morning sunShall vaunt him thrice over the lofty east,Margaret will meet her Lacy in the heavens.Lacy.If aught betides to lovely MargaretThat wrongs or wrings her honour from content,Europe's rich wealth nor England's monarchyShould 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 abideThe 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 maidUnto 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 thoughtsAs was Aspasia unto Cyrus self,Yields thanks, and, next Lord Lacy, doth enshrineEdward 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 postTo 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 looksThink 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 MargaretA 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 nightRide post until I come to Bacon's cell.[Exeunt.

EnterKing Henry,theEmperor,theKing of Castile, Elinor, Vandermast,andBungay.

Emp.Trust me, Plantagenet, these Oxford schoolsAre 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 suchNone read so deep as Oxenford contains:There are within our academic stateMen that may lecture it in GermanyTo 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 forthThe 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 quadruplicityOf elemental essence,terrais but thoughtTo be apunctumsquarèd to[213]the rest;And that the compass of ascending elementsExceed in bigness as they do in height;Judging the concave circle of the sunTo 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 placeBe 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 spellsThat work such shows and wondering in the worldAre acted by those geomantic spiritsThat Hermes callethterræ 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 spiritsAre 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 fiendsWere 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 serveFor jugglers, witches, and vile sorcerers;Whereas the pyromantic geniiAre 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.

HereBungayconjures, 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 spellsCan 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!

Herculesappears 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 charmThe 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 cellsTo 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.

EnterBacon.

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 seatBetween 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 VandermastThat 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 disputeWith such a novice as is Vandermast;I came to have your royalties to dineWith 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![ExitHerculeswithVandermastand the Tree.Emp.Why, Bacon, whither dost thou send him?Bacon.To Hapsburg: there your highness at returnShall 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.

EnterPrince 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 bucksIf they could scape the teasers or the toil.But hearing of these lordly potentatesLanded, 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 SaxonyAre 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 toAlbion;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.

EnterMileswith a cloth and trenchers and salt.

Miles. Salvete, omnes reges,That govern yourgregesIn Saxony and Spain,In England and in Almain!For all this frolic rabbleMust I cover the tableWith 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-enterMileswith 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'specus,Being in his full ageTo 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 faithThe 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 catesTo 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 peersCould not afford thy entertainment such,So royal and so full of majesty,As Bacon will present to Frederick.The basest waiter that attends thy cupsShall 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 courtesanQuaff'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 lampThat firèd Rome with sparks of gluttony,Shall beautify the board for Frederick:And therefore grudge not at a friar's feast.

EnterLambertandSerlsbywith theKeeper.

Lam.Come, frolic Keeper of our liege's game,Whose table spread hath other venisonAnd jacks of wines to welcome passengers,Know I'm in love with jolly Margaret,That overshines our damsels as the moonDarkeneth 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 girlHath 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 esteemShould lay their liking on this base estate,And that her state should grow so fortunateTo 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.[ExitKeeper.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.

EnterMargaret.

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 greeTo 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 fireBe kindled but by fancy's motion:Then pardon, gentles, if a maid's replyBe 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 frownWould 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 aPostwith a letter and a bag of gold.

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