i
*
t
V
m
|
9: It- £ 1 |
|
£ ' ll H ' |
|
I'M J -- i |
|
ammm ' ■■ v' AlBS' SB |
|
: |
i - .+■ |
,'. |
|
|
■ 'it: |
w
w *
|
IM ' |
• |
||
|
9k IE |
|||
|
■ ' ' <■ '■ a |
H ^ |
• />,
I
ROBERT -GREENE
ITY
LOS ANGELES
*
-»*
THE PLAYS & POEMS OF
ROBERT GREENE
EDITED WITH INTRODUCTIONS AND NOTES
By J. CHURTON COLLINS, Litt.D.
(PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE IN THE UNIVERSITY OF BIRMINGHAM)
\
VOL. II
FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY. JAMES THE FOURTH THE PINNER OF WAKEFIELD. A MAIDENS DREAME POEMS FROM THE NOVELS. NOTES TO PLAYS AND POEMS APPENDIX : ENGLAND'S PARNASSUS. GLOSSARI AL INDEX
GENERAL INDEX
■
■ ■
OXFORD
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
MDCCCCV
28609
HENRY FROWDE, M.A.
PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
LONDON, EDINBURGH
NEW YORK AND TORONTO
■
*
'
CONTENTS
VOLUME I
PAGE
Facsimile of a portion of the Alleyn MS. of Orlando
Furioso Frontispiece
PREFACE vii
GENERAL INTRODUCTION I
INTRODUCTION TO ALPHONSVS 70
ALPHONSVS KING OF ARRAGON 77
INTRODUCTION TO LOOKING GLASSE . . . .137
A LOOKING GLASSE 143
INTRODUCTION TO ORLANDO FVRIOSO . . .215
ORLANDO FVRIOSO 221
THE ALLEYN MS 266
NOTES :—
ALPHONSVS 279
LOOKING GLASSE 290
ORLANDO FVRIOSO 304
VOLUME II
INTRODUCTION TO FRIER BACON 1
FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY .... 15
INTRODUCTION TO IAMES IV 79
IAMES THE FOVRTH 87
INTRODUCTION TO THE PINNER 159
THE PINNER OF WAKEFIELD 181
INTRODUCTION TO A MAIDENS DREAME . . .219
A MAIDENS DREAME 221
POEMS FROM THE NOVELS 235
NOTES :—
FRIER BACON 325
IAMES THE FOVRTH 349
THE PINNER OF WAKEFIELD 367
A MAIDENS DREAME 378
POEMS FROM THE NOVELS 381
APPENDIX : ENGLAND'S PARNASSUS . . . .398
GLOSSARIAL INDEX 407
INDEX 411
INTRODUCTION TO FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY
This play was first published in quarto by Edward White in 1594, and in the May of that year it was entered on the Stationers' Registers,
thus :— xiiiit0 die Maij
' ADAM IS LIP Entred for his Copie under th(e h)andes of bothe the
EDWARD WHITE wardens a booke entituled the Historye of ffryer
BACON and ffryer BOUNGA YE . . . vj* C/'
It was reprinted also in quarto in 1630 and in 1655 \ The text
printed here is that of the first Quarto collated with that of the second
and third.
Of the time of its composition and of its first appearance there is
no record. It would seem from an entry in Henslowe's Diary that
it had been performed in February, 159J.
' Rd at fryer bacone, the 19 of febrary, Satterdaye . . . xvij8 iijd.' Collier's Transcript, p. 20.
Henslowe does not note that it was a new play, and it probably was not. In the Diary it heads the list of plays performed by ' my lord Stranges mene.' With regard to its composition and first appearance we have nothing to guide us but conjecture and inference. In point of merit it stands with James I Vat the head of Greene's dramas. The versification and style, as well as its merit from a dramatic and idyllic point of view, seem to warrant us in concluding that its composition must have been subsequent to that of Alphonsus, the Looking Glasse, and Orlatido Furioso. It is as plainly the work of a comparatively practised hand as they are the work of a tiro in his apprenticeship. If we assign it to the end of 1591 or the beginning of 1592 we shall probably not be far from the mark. Mr. F. G. Fleay (see Ward's Introduction, Appendix B) very ingeniously deduces from 1. 137, 'Lacie, thou knowst next friday is S. lames,' that the play was produced before August 1589. He observes that dramatic authors always used the almanac of the current year, and that St. James's day fell on a Friday in 1578, 1589, and 1595. Of these dates the first would be too early, the third too late, and thus we are limited to 1589. But this is as obviously unsatisfactory as the conclusion he draws from the curtail-
1 Owing presumably to an error of Malone, Dyce, Lowndes, Grosart, Dr. Ward, and others, have recorded an edition of 1599. But no such edition is, so far as I can ascertain, in existence. Malone had two copies, now in the Bodleian Library, both of them the 1630 reprint, one of them has lost its title- page, and this copy Malone supposed to be an edition dated 1599, and has in his own hand entered it as such. If he had collated it with the reprint of 1630 he would have seen that it was merely a copy of that. I cannot find that before Malone there was any trace or tradition of an edition dated 1599. Baker, in his Biog/aphia Dramatica (ed. 1782), makes no mention of such an edition. Its alleged existence seems to be due to Malone's mistaken note.
COLLINS. II £
2 FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY
ment of Greene's motto (Id.). Dr. Ward sees 'no reason against the assumption that it was written before February 1589, very possibly in 1588 or even in 1587.' But surely there are strong reasons against such an assumption. As I have already shown, there is no evidence at all that Greene was engaged in dramatic composition before 1590. Of one thing it seems to me that there can be little doubt, that it stands in the same relation to Marlowe's Faustus as Alphonsus stood to his Tamburlaine, not indeed in the sense of borrowing from it, but in the fact that it was intended to rival it1. The date of the first appearance of Marlowe's play is not known, but such evidence as we have seems to point to some period between 1588 'and 1589* ; that it preceded Greene's play must, in the absence of certain proof, be a matter of inference, but it is inference equivalent to moral certainty. Nothing of course can be deduced from the obvious parallel between Faust's words (Scene i. 86, Ward's ed.) : —
' I'll haue them wall all Germany with brass,' and Burden's words in Frier Bacon (11. 200-1) : —
' Thou meanst ere many yeares or daies be past, To compasse England with a wall of brasse,'
repeated afterwards by the Friar (11. 343-4) : —
' And Hell and Heccate shall faile the Frier, But I will circle England round with brasse.'
because Greene found them in the romance on which his drama was based (see Appendix to Introduction, p. 6), and the presumption in favour of Faustus having preceded Greene's play is so overwhelmingly strong that we cannot suppose that Marlowe borrowed from Greene. In all probability the line was one of the interpolations introduced into the play after Marlowe's death, and in that case was derived from Greene or from the romance on which Greene drew. But this need not be pressed, for, as Dr. Ward observes, it was a 'traditional boast which was probably quite familiar from the story-book of Friar Bacon.' In the Looking Glasse, Greene, for the passage was plainly written by Greene, had already borrowed from Faustus : compare the scene where the Usurer is presented in his despair (11. 1948-53) : —
' Hell gapes for me, heauen will not hold my soule. You mountaines, shroude me from the God of truth : Mee-thinkes I see him sit to iudge the earth ; See how he blots me out of the booke of life! Oh burthen more than /Etna that 1 beare ! Couer me hilles, and shroude me from the Lord,'
1 I entirely agree with Dr. Wagner in his remarks on this subject in his Introduction to his edition of Marlowe's Faustus.
2 For the whole question of the probable date of the production and first appearance of Marlowe's Faustus see Dr. Ward's Introduction to his edition of Faustus and Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay, 4th edition, pp. xxx-xxxv.
INTRODUCTION 3
with Faust's (Scene xiv. 83-7, Ward's ed.) : —
' Mountains and hills come, come and fall on me And hide me from the heauy wrath of God. No, no !
Then will I headlong run into the earth ; Earth gape. O no it will not harbour me.'
Compare again the words of the Usurer (11. 1955-8) : —
'In life no peace: each murmuring that I heare, Mee-thinkes the sentence of damnation soundes, "Die reprobate, and hie thee hence to hell."
The euill Angell tempteth him, offering the knife and rope.
What fiend is this that temptes me to the death ? '
with those of Faust at whose side also is standing the Evil Angel (Scene vi. 20-3, Ward's ed.) : —
' Fearful echoes thunder in my ears. Faustus thou art damn'd, these swords and kniues, Poison, guns, halters and enuenom'd Steele Are laid before me to despatch myself.'
Again (Id. 11. 14-17): —
' Faustus. Who buzzeth in my ears I am a spirit. Be I a deuil, yet God may pity me, Aye God will pity me, if I repent.'
compared with the words of the Usurer (11. 1960-3) : —
'What second charge is this? Mee-thinks I heare a voice amidst mine eares, That bids me staie, and tels me that the Lord Is merciful 1 to those that do repent.'
But the whole position and scene where the Usurer is presented in his despair is so analogous to the scene in Faustus that it can hardly be doubted that it was a reminiscence of the scene in Marlowe's tragedy1. There are, it must be admitted, no parallels in details and particulars between Frier Bacon and Faustus beyond what can be accounted for from similarities in the romances from which each derived its plot, the Faustbuch and The Famous Historie of Friar Bacon. It is probable that Marlowe's play directed Greene's attention to magicians and magic as subjects for dramatic treatment, and inspired him with the idea of competing with Marlowe by treating in his own way a kindred theme. And his treatment of it is certainly widely different, as he entirely eliminates, with the exception of one incident, the tragical element. Greene had no doubt the tact to know where his strength lay, and where his rival's strength lay. And he had his reward ; he produced a work which, as Henslowe's entries show, became as popular in comedy as Marlowe's was in tragedy.
1 These parallels with Dr. Faustus are not affected by the fact that the germ of this passage is found in Lodge's Alarum against Usurers. See note on Looking Glasse, vol. i. p. 292, 1. 292.
D 2
4 FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY
Of equal interest is the relation of Frier Bacon to Faire Em. It is scarcely necessary to say that the well-known passage in the address to the Gentlemen Students prefixed to Greene's Farewell to Follie1 proves conclusively that Greene had no part in the composition of that play, and that to assign it to him is absurd. But the resemblance it bears to Friar Bacon generally, and particularly in the opening scene, is so striking that it would be interesting to know whether the resemblance is merely accidental, or whether it was the result of conscious imita- tion. It is difficult to think it was accidental, and the question then arises whether Faire Em preceded Frier Bacon or Frier Bacon Faire Em. I have already stated my reasons for thinking that Frier Bacon was not composed before 1 590. All that can be known with certainty about Faire Em is that it was on the stage in or before 1 591, for in that year appeared Greene's attack on it in the Farewell to Follie. Now, part of the plot of Faire Em is probably founded on a ballad licensed to Henry Carre, March 2, 1 580-1, under the title of The Millers Daughter 0/ Manchester2; its style and versification point to an earlier period than 1591 ; it was evidently composed not originally for the London stage, but for Lord Strange's men to act in Lancashire and Cheshire, where its many local allusions would alone be intelligible5; after being acted in the provinces it must have won its way to the London boards. So that in all probability when Greene refers to it, it must have been a play of some standing. Simpson is inclined to assign its composition to 1587 *• On the whole then, though it* is not possible to speak with certainty, it is in the highest degree probable that Faire Em preceded Frier Bacon5. If it did, it may have given Greene the model for that part in Frier Bacon in which the Prince, Lacy, and Margaret are the principal figures, a love comedy perplexed with disguises and cross-affections. At the opening of the play, William the Conqueror and the Marquis Lubec stand in precisely the same relation to each other as the Prince and Lacy do in Greene's play, first with regard to Blanche, and afterwards with regard to Mariana. Margaret sometimes reminds us of Faire Em, and sometimes of Mariana ; the sentiments are often identical ; there is the same blending of rustic and courtly life ; the blank verse is often indistinguishable from Greene's. It would not be too much to say that in tone, colour, and style Faire Em stands in the same relation to Frier Bacon as Tamburlaine stands to Alphonsus.
.
1 Works (Grosart), vol. ix. pp. 232-3.
2 Simpson's School of Shakespeare, vol. ii. 377.
3 Id. 372. 4 Id.
5 Dr. Ward (Introduction to Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay, pp. cxlvii-viii) is of opinion that Faire Em was subsequent in appearance to Greene's play, and that the resemblances between them are to be referred to imitations of Greene. Had this been the case, is it likely that Greene would have been silent about what he might fairly have described as plagiarism from his drama ?
INTRODUCTION 5
Greene has founded his play on an old romance written probably towards the end of the sixteenth century, the earliest extant edition of which is dated 1627. The title-page is as follows :—
' The Famous Historie of Fryer Bacon. Containing the wonderfull things that he did in his Life : Also the manner of his Death ; With the Liues and Deaths of the two Coniurers, Bungye and Vandermast. Very pleasant and delightfull to be read. Bliidschap doet, het leuen ver Langhen. Printed at London by G. P. for Francis Groue, and are to be sold at his shop at the vpper end of Snow Hill, against the Saracens head. 1627.'
This is in black-letter ; the British Museum copy is imperfect, and I have therefore supplied the deficiencies from another quarto printed, it is supposed — for it is undated — in 1630. Dyce and Dr. Ward have contented themselves with extracts from the reprint in the second volume of Thoms's Prose Ro?nances. I have given in the Appendix to this Introduction all those portions of the romance which have furnished Greene with material. A comparison of the drama with the romance will show that Greene in the most charming part of his work owes nothing to the original. His indebtedness to the romance extends indeed no further than the part played by Bacon. The only hint in the romance of the love portion is in chapter xv, where it is said that a fair maid called Mellisant had two suitors, a knight and a gentleman, and that of the two she preferred the gentleman, which may have suggested Margaret's preference of Lacy to the Prince. The rest belongs to Greene. There is not, so far as we know, any foundation either in fact or tradition for Edward's intrigue with 'the fair maid of Fressingfield ' or for the visit of Henry III, the King of Castile, and the Emperor of Germany to Oxford.
The historical personages and the part they play will not of course bear examination for a moment, and this part of the drama is full of the absurdest fictions and anachronisms. Henry III, indeed, paid several visits to Oxford (see the first book of Anthony a Wood's History and Antiquities of the University), but the Emperor of Germany, who was Frederic II, was never in England, nor, so far as is known, was the King of Castile, Ferdinand III. The whole account given of Prince Edward is incorrect. He married Eleanor of Castile sixteen years before he went on the Crusade referred to by Greene, and he married, not in England, but by proxy in Spain, nor did he ever distinguish himself before the walls of Damascus. His relations with Friar Bacon are as purely fictitious as his connexion with the Fair Maid of Fressingfield. No scholar or magician of the name of Vandermast is known. Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, and Warren are historical personages, but there is nothing which connects Lacy with any maid of Fressingfield, and Warren was not Earl of Sussex but Earl of Surrey.
APPENDIX TO INTRODUCTION
Chap. II. 1630 How the King sent for Frier Bacon, and of the wonderful things that he shewed the King and Queen. — The King being in Oxfordshire at a Nobleman's house was very desirous to see this famous Frier, for he had heard many times of the wondrous things that he had done by his art.
The King, Queen and Nobles sate then all down : they having so done the Frier waving his wand, and presently was heard such ex- cellent Musick that they were all amazed, for they all said they had
never heard the like Then waved he his wand again, and
there was another kind of Musick heard, and whilst it was a playing, there was suddenly before them a Table richly covered with all sorts of delicates : Then desired he the King and Queen to taste of some certain rare fruits that were on the Table, which they and the Nobles there presently did, and were very highly pleased with the taste.
Chap. V How Fryer Bacon made a Brasen head to speake, by the which hee would have walled England about with Brasse. — Fryer Bacon reading one day of the many Conquests of England, bethought himself how hee might ke.epe it hereafter from the like Conquests, and to make himselfe famous hereafter to all posterities : This (after great study) hee found could be no way so well done as one ; which was to make a head of Brasse, and if he could make this head to speake (and heare it when it speakes) then might hee be able to wall all England about with Brasse. To this purpose he got one Fryer Bungey to assist him, who was a great Schollar and a magician, (but not to bee compared with Frier Bacon) : These two with great study and paines so framed a head of Brasse, that in the inward parts thereof there was all things (like as is in a naturall mans head) : this being done, they were as farre from perfection of the worke as they were before, for they knew not how to give those parts that they had made motion, without which it was impossible that it should speake : Many bookes they read, yet could not finde out any hope of what they sought, so that at the last they concluded to raise a spirit, and to know of him that which they could not attaine to by their owne studies. To do this they prepared all things ready and went one even- ing to a wood thereby, and after many ceremonies used, they spake the words of conjuration, which the Devill straight obeyed and appeared unto them, asking what they would ? Know, said Frier Bacon, that wee have made an artificiall head of brasse, which wee would have to speake, to the furtherance of which wee have raised thee ; and being raised, wee will here keepe thee, unlesse thou tell to us the way and manner how
APPENDIX TO INTRODUCTION 7
to make this Head to speak. The Devill told him that he had not that power of himselfe : beginner of lyes (said Fryer Bacon) I know that thou dost dissemble, and therefore tell it us quickly, or else wee will here bind thee to remaine during our pleasures. At these threatnings the Devill consented to doe it, and told them, that with a continuall fume of the six hotest Simples it should have motion, and in one month space speake, the Time of the moneth or day hee knew not: also hee told them, that if they heard it not before it had done speaking, all their labour should be lost : they, being satisfied, licensed the Spirit for to depart. — Then went these two learned Fryers home againe, and prepared the Simples ready, and made the fume, and with continuall watching attended when this Brasen head would speake : thus watched they for three weekes without any rest, so that they were so weary and sleepy, that they could not any longer retaine from rest : then called Fryer Bacon his man Miles, and told him, that it was not unknowne to him what paines Fryer Bungy and himselfe had taken for three weekes space, onely to make, and to heare the Brasen-head speake, which if they did not, then had they lost all their labour, and all England had a great losse thereby : therefore hee intreated Miles that he would watch whilest that they sleep, and call them if the Head speake. Feare not, good Master (said Mailes) I will not sleepe, but harken and attend upon the head, and if it doe chance to speake, I will call you : therefore I pray take you both your rests and let mee alone for watching this head. After Fryer Bacon had given him a great charge : The second time, Fryer Bungy and he went to sleepe, and left Miles alone to watch the Brasen head : Miles, to keepe him from sleeping, got a Tabor and Pipe, and being merry disposed, sung this Song to a Northren tune,
Of Cam'st thou not from New-Castle To couple is a custome,
All things thereto agree :
Why should not I then love ?
Since love to all is free.
But I'll have one that's pretty,
Her cheekes of scarlet die? For to breed my delight,
When that I ligge her by.
Though vertue be a Dowry,
Yet I'll chuse money store : If my love prove untrue,
With that I can get more.
The faire is oft unconstant,
The blacke is often proud. I'll chuse a lovely browne,
Come fiddler scrape thy crowd.
8 FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY
Come fidler scrape thy crowd, For Peggie the browne is she,
Must be my Bride, God guide That Peggie and I agree. With his owne Musicke, and such songs as these spent he his time, and kept from sleeping, at last, after some noyse the Head spake these two words, Time is. Miles hearing it to speake no more, thought his Master would be angry if hee waked him for that, and therefore hee let them both sleepe, and began to mocke the Head in this manner : Thou Brazen-faced Head, hath my Master tooke all this paines about thee, and now dost thou requite him with two words, Time is: had he watched with a Lawyer so long as he hath watched with thee, he would have given him more, and better words then thou hast yet, if thou can speake no wiser, they shall sleepe till doomes day for me : Time is : I know Time is, and that you shall heare good-man Brazen-face.
To the tune of Daintie come thou to me. Time is for some to plant, Time is for some to sowe ; Time is for some to graft The home as some do know.
Time is for some to eate, Time is for some to sleepe, Time is for some to laugh, Time is for some to weepe.
Time is for some to sing, Time is for some to pray, Time is for some to creepe, That have drunke all the day.
Time is to cart a Bawd,
Time is to whip a Whore,
Time is to hang a Theefe,
And time is for much more. Doe you tell us Copper-nose, when Time is, I hope we Schollers know our Times, when to drinke drunke, when to kisse our Hostis, when to goe on her score, and when to pay it, that time comes seldome. After halfe an hour had passed, the Head did speake againe, two words, which were these : Time was. Miles respected these words as little as he did the former, and would not wake them, but still scoffed at the Brasen head, that it had learned no better words, and had such a Tutor as his Master : and in scorne of it sung this Song.
To the tune of A rich Merchant Man. Time was when thou a Kettle
Wert fill'd with better matter: But Fryer Bacon did thee spoyle,
When he thy sides did batter.
APPENDIX TO INTRODUCTION 9
Time was when conscience dwelled
With men of occupation : Time was when Lawyers did not thrive
So well by mens vexation.
Time was when Kings and Beggars
Of one poore stuffe had being: Time was when office kept no knaves :
That time it was worth seeing.
Time was a bowle of water
Did give the face reflection, Time was when women knew no paint :
"VNThich now they call complexion.
Time was : I know that Brazen-face, without your telling, I know Time was, and I know what things there was when Time was, and if you speake no wiser, no Master shall be waked for mee. Thus Miles talked and sung till another halfe houre was gone, then the Brazen- head spake againe these words ; Time is past : and therewith fell downe, and presently followed a terrible noyse, with strange flashes of fire, so that Miles was halfe dead with feare : at this noyse the two Fryers awakened, and wondred to see the whole roome so full of smoake, but that having vanished they might perceive the Brazen-head broken and lying on the ground : at this sight they grieved, and called Miles to know how this came. Miles halfe dead with feare, said that it fell downe of it selfe, and that with the noyse and fire that followed hee was almost frighted out of his wits : Fryer Bacon asked him if hee did not speake? Yes (quoth Miles) it spake, but to no purpose. I'll have a Parret speake better in that time that you have beene teach- ing this Brazen-head. Out on thee villaine (said Fryer Bacon) thou hast undone us both, hadst thou but called us when it did speake, all England had bin walled round about with Brasse, to its glory and our eternall fames : what were the words it spake ? Very few (said Miles) and those were none of the wisest that I have heard neither : first he said Time is. Hadst thou call'd us then (said Fryer Bacon) wee had beene made for ever : then (said Miles) halfe an houre after it spake againe and said, Time was. And wouldst thou not call us then (said Bungy ?) Alas (said Miles) I thought he would have told me some long Tale, and then I purposed to have called you : then halfe an houre after he cried Time is past, and made such a noyse, that hee hath waked you himselfe mee thinkes. At this Fryer Bacon was in such a rage, that hee would have beaten his man, but he was restrained by Bungey : but nevertheles for his punishment he with his Art struck him dumbe for one whole months space. Thus that great worke of these learned Fryers was overthrown (to their great griefes) by this simple fellow.
io FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONG AY
Chap. VII
How Fryer Bacon over-came the German Conjurer Vandermast, and make a spirit of his ovvne carry him into Germany.
The King of England after hee had taken in the towne, shewed great mercy to the Inhabitants, giving some of them their lives freely, and others hee set at libertie for their Gold : the Towne hee kept as his owne, and swore the Chiefe Citizens to be his true subjects. Presently after the King of France sent an Ambassadour to the King of England, for to intreat a peace betweene them. This Ambassadour being come to the King he feasted him (as it is the manner of Princes to doe) and with the best sports as he had then, welcomed him. The Ambassadour seeing the King of England so free in his Love, desired likewise to give him some taste of his good liking, and to that intent sent for one of his fellowes (being a Germane, and named Vandermast) a famous Conjurer, who being come, hee told the King, that since his Grace had beene so bountifull in his love to him, he would shew him (by a servant of his) such wonderfull things, that his Grace had never seene the like before. The King demaunded of him, of what nature those things were that hee would doe ? The Ambassadour answered, that they were things done by the Art of Magicke. The King hearing of this, sent straight for Fryer Bacon, who presently came, and brought Fryer Bungey with him.
When the Banquet was done, Vandermast did aske the King, if hee desired to see any Spirit of any man deceased ; and if that he did, hee would raise him in such manner and fashion as he was in when that hee lived.
Fryer Bungey then began to shew his Art ; and after some turning and looking on his Booke, he brought up among them the Hysperian Tree, which did beare golden Apples ; these Apples were kept by a waking Dragon, that lay under the Tree : Hee having done this, bid Vandermast finde one that durst gather the fruit. Then Vandermast did raise the ghost of Hercules in his habit that he wore when that he was living, and with his club on his shoulder ; Here is one said Vander- mast, that shall gather fruit from this Tree: this is Hercules, that in his life time gathered of this fruit, and made the Dragon couch : and now againe shall hee gather it in spight of all opposition : As Hercules was going to plucke the fruit, Fryer Bacon held up his wand, at which Hercules stayed and seemed fearefull. Vandermast bid him for to gather of the fruit, or else hee would torment him. Hercules was more fearefull, and said, I cannot, nor I dare not ; for here great Bacon stands, whose charmes are farre more powerful than thine, I must obey him, Vandermast. Hereat Vandermast curst Hercules, and threatned him : But Fryer Bacon laughed, and bid him not to
APPENDIX TO INTRODUCTION n
chafe himselfe ere that his journey was ended ; for seeing (said he) that Hercules will doe nothing at your command, I will have him doe you some service at mine : with that hee bid Hercules carry him home into Germany. The Devill obeyed him, and tooke Vandermast on his backe, and went away with him in all their sights. Hold Fryer, cried the Embassadour, I will not loose Vandermast for half my land. Content your selfe my Lord, answered Fryer Bacon, I have but sent him home to see his wife, and ere long he may returne. The King of England thanked Fryer Bacon, and forced some gifts on him for his service that hee had done for him ; for Fryer Bacon did so little respect money, that he never would take any of the King.
Chap. XV. 1630 (Ed. 1627 has not the later chapters.) How Fryer Bacon did help a young man to his sweetheart, which Fryer Bungey would have married to another ; and of the mirth that was at the wedding.
An Oxford-shire Gentleman had long time loved a fair Maid, called Millisant ; this love of his was as kindly received of her, as it was freely given of him, so that there wanted nothing to the finishing of their joys, but the consent of her father, who would not grant that she should be his wife (though formerly he had been a means to further the match) by reason there was a Knight that was a suitor to her, and did desire that he might have her to his wife : but this Knight could never get from her the least token of good will : so surely was her love fixed upon the Gentleman.
Fryer Bacon (knowing him for a vertuous gentleman) pityed him : and to give his griefs some release, shewed him a glass, wherein any one might see anything done (within fifty miles space) that they de- sired : So soon as he had looked in the glass, he saw his Love Millisant with her Father, and the Knight, ready to be married by Fryer Bungey : At the sight of this he cryed out that he was undone, for now should he lose his life in losing of his Love. Fryer Bacon bids him take comfort for he would prevent the marriage.
Chap. XVIII How two young gentlemen that came to Fryer Bacon to know how their Fathers did, killed one another, and how Fryer Bacon for grief did break his rare glass, wherein he could see anything that was done within fifty miles about him. (After introductory paragraph describing the wonderful glass.)
It happened one day that there came to him two young Gentlemen, (that were Countrymen, and Neighbours Children) for to know of him
12 FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY
by his Glass, how their Fathers did : he being no niggard of his cunning, let them see his glass, wherein they streight beheld their wishes, which they (through their own follies) bought at their lives losses as you shall hear.
The Fathers of these two Gentlemen, (in their sons absence) were become great foes ; this hatred between them was grown to that height, that wheresoever they met, they had not only words but blows.
Just at that time, as it should seem, that their sons were looking to see how they were in health, they were met and had drawn, and were together by the ears.
Their Sons seeing this, (and having been always great friends) knew not what to say to one another, but beheld each other with angry looks : At last one of their Fathers, as they might perceive in the Glass, had a fall ; and the other taking advantage, stood over him ready to strike him : The Son of him that was down, could then contain himself no longer, but told the other young man, that his Father had received wrong. He answered again, that it was fair. At last there grew such foul words between them, and their bloods were so heated, that they presently stabb'd one another with their daggers, and so fell down dead.
Fryer Bacon seeing them fall, ran to them, but it was too late ; for they were breathless ere he came. This made him to grieve exceed- ingly : he judging that they had received the cause of their deaths by this his Glass, took the Glass in hishand, and uttered words to this effect.
Wretched Bacon, wretched in thy knowledge, in thy understanding wretched, for thy Art hath been the ruine of these two Gentlemen. Had I been busied in those holy things, the which mine Order tyes me to, I had not had that time that made this wicked Glass : Wicked I well may call it, that is the causer of so vile an Act ; would it were sensible, then should it feel my wrath, but being as it is, I'll ruine it for ruining of them : And with that he broke his rare and wonderful glass, whose like the whole World had not. In this grief of his, there came news to him, of the deaths of Vandermast and Fryer Bungey This did increase his grief, and made him so sorrowful, that in three days he would not eat anything, but kept his Chamber.
Chap. XIX
How Fryar Bacon burnt his Books of Magick, and gave himself to the study of Divinity only, and how he turned Anchorite.
In the time that Frier Bacon kept his chamber, he fell into divers meditations : Sometimes into the vanity of Arts and Sciences : then would he condemn himself for studying of those things that were so Contrary to his Order, and soul's health, and would say, that Magick made a man a Devil ; Sometimes would he meditate on Divinity ;
APPENDIX TO INTRODUCTION 13
then would he cry out upon himself for neglecting the study of it, and for studying Magick : Sometimes would he meditate on the shortness of man's life, then would he condemn himself for spending a time so short, so ill as he had done his : So would he go from one thing to an- other, and in all condemn his former studies.
And that the world should know how truly he did repent his wicked life, he caused a great fire to be made, and sending for many of his Friends, Scholars, and others, he spake to them after this manner : My good Friends and fellow Students, it is not unknown unto you, how that through mine Art I have attained to that credit, that few men living ever had : Of the wonders that I have done all England can speak, both King and Commons : I have unlocked the secrets of Art and Nature, and let the world see those things, that have lain hid ever since the death of Hermes, that rare and profound Philosopher: My studies have found out the secrets of the Stars, the Books that I have made of them do serve for presidents to our greatest Doctors, so excellent hath my judgment been therein.
I likewise have found out the secrets of Trees, Plants, and Stones, with their several uses ; yet all this knowledge of mine I esteem so lightly, that I wish that I were ignorant, and knew nothing ; for the knowledge of these things, as I have truly found, serveth not to better a man in goodness, but only to make him proud, and think too well of himself. What hath all my knowledge of Natures Secrets gained me ? Only this, the loss of a better knowledge, the loss of divine Studies, which makes the immortal part of man, (his soul) blessed.
I have found that my Knowledge hath been a heavy burthen, and hath kept down my good thoughts : but I will remove the Cause, which are these books ; which I do purpose here before you all to burn. They all intreated him to spare the Books, because in them there were those things that after ages might receive great benefit by. He would not hearken unto them, but threw them all into the fire, and in that flame burnt the greatest learning in the world.
Then did he dispose of all his goods, some part he gave to poor Scholars, and some he gave to other (poor folks), nothing left he for himself. Then caused he to be (made) in the Church-wall a cell, where he locked himself in, and there remained to his death. His time he spent in Prayer, Meditation, and such divine exercises, and did seek by all means to persuade men from the study of Magick.
Thus lived he some two years space in that Cell, never coming forth ; his meat and drink he received in at a window, and at that window he did discourse with those that came to him ; his grave he digged with his own nails, and was laid there when . . . Life and Death of this famous Fryer . . . part of his life a Magician, and died a true penitent Sinner, and an Anchorite.
HONORABLE
ISTORIE OF
FRIER ©^COJAAAND
FRIER BONG AT.
As it was lately plaid by the Prince Patatwe his Seruants.
Made by Robert Greene , Matter of Arts.
LONDON,
Printed by Elizabeth allde dwelling neere Chuft-Church. 163O.
?r=KM>
hM^H
Cl?~.-
THE
HONORABLE HISTORII
of frier Bacon,and frier Bongay.
As ft was plaid by her Maiefties feruants. Made by Robert Greene Maifter of A r t s*
%S*
aj-iSiri
a;
pi
,V
$fc
LONDON,
Printed for Edward White , and are to be fold at his fhop, at
the litdc North dore of Poules,at the figne of
the Guru 1 594*
1 (DRAMATIS PERSON AE
King Henry the Third.
Prince Edward, his son.
Emperor of Germany.
King of Castile.
Duke of Saxony.
Lacy, Earl of Lincoln.
Warren, Earl of Sussex.
Ermsby, a Gentleman.
Ralph Simnell, the King's Fool.
Friar Bacon.
Miles, Friar Bacon's poor scholar.
Friar Bungay.
Jaques Vandermast.
Burden, \
Mason, > Doctors of Oxford.
Clement, /
Lambert, )
> Gentlemen. Serlsby, J
Two scholars, their sons.
Keeper.
Thomas, ) _,
^ > Clowns.
Richard, J
Constable.
A Post.
Lords, Clowns, 6°<r.
Elinor, daughter to the King of Castile.
Margaret, the Keeper's daughter.
Joan, a country wench.
Hostess of the Bell at Henley.
A devil.
Spirit in the shape </ Hercules \)
1 Adapted from Dyce—not in original.
THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF FRIER BACON, AND FRIER BONGAY AS IT WAS PLAID BY HER MAIESTIES SERVANTS.
(ACT I.) (Scene I. At Framlingham.)
Enter, Edward the first, mal contented with Lacy earle of Lincolne, Iohn Warren earle of Sussex, and Ermsbie gentleman'. Raph Simnell the Kings foole.
Lacie. Why lookes my lord like to a troubled skie, When heauens bright shine is shadowed with a fogge? Alate we ran the deere, and through the Lawndes Stript with our nagges the loftie frolicke bucks, That scudded fore the teisers like the wind : 5
Nere was the Deere of merry Fresingfield So lustily puld down by iolly mates, Nor sharde the Farmers such fat venison, So franckly dealt, this hundred yeares before : Nor haue I seene my lord more frolicke in the chace, 10 And now changde to a melancholie dumpe.
Warren. After the Prince got to the keepers lodge, And had been iocand in the house a while, Tossing of ale and milke in countrie Cannes ; Whether it was the countries sweete content, 15
Or els the bonny damsell fild vs drinke, That seemd so stately in her stammell red, Or that a qualme did crosse his stomacke then, But straight he fell into his passions.
Ermsbie. Sirra Raphe, what say you to your maister? 20
Shall he thus all amort liue malecontent?
Raphe. Heerest thou, JVed? nay looke if hee will speake to me.
For Quartos see Introduction, /. 1.
13 iucond Qi 3 14 of] off Dycc, Ward
COLLINS. I! C
i8 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act I
Edward. What sayst thou to me, foole?
Raphe. I pree thee tell me, Ned, art thou in loue with the 25 keepers daughter ?
Edward. How if I be, what then?
Raphe. Why then, sirha, He teach thee how to deceiue loue.
Edward. How, Raphe} 30
Raphe. Marrie, Sirha Ned, thou shalt put on my cap and my coat, and my dagger, and I will put on thy clothes, and thy sword, and so thou shalt be my foole.
Edward. And what of this ?
Raphe. Why, so thou shalt beguile Loue, for Loue is such a 35 proud scab, that he will neuer meddle with fooles nor chil- dren. Is not Raphes counsell good, Ned}
Edward. Tell me, Ned Lacie, didst thou marke the mayd, How liuely in her country weedes she lookt? A bonier wench all Suffolke cannot yeeld, 40
All Suffolke, nay all England, holds none such.
Raphe. Sirha Will Ermsby, Ned is deceiued.
Ermsbie. Why, Raphe}
Raphe. He saies all England hath no such, and I say, and
He stand to it, there is one better in Warivickshire. 45
Warren. How proouest thou that, Raphe}
Raphe. Why, is not the Abbot a learned man, and hath red many bookes? and thinkest thou he hath not more learning than thou to choose a bonny wench ? yes, I warrant thee, by his whole grammer. 50
Ermsby. A good reason, Raphe.
Edward. I tell the, Lacie, that her sparkling eyes Doe lighten forth sweet Loues alluring fire : And in her tresses she doth fold the lookes Of such as gaze vpon her golden haire : 55
Her bashfull white mixt with the mornings red Luna doth boast vpon her louely cheekes : Her front is beauties table where she paints The glories of her gorgious excellence : Her teeth are shelues of pretious Margarites, 60
25 prethee (?3 39 liuely] lovely Dyce, Ward 45 one] not Q$
47 not om. Q2 3 hath he read Q2 49 warrant I thee Q2 3
55 such a gaize Q3 58 where] when Q$
Sclj FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 19
Richly enclosed with ruddie curroll cleues.
Tush, Lacie, she is beauties ouermatch,
If thou suruaist her curious imagerie. Lacie. I grant, my lord, the damsell is as faire
As simple Suffolks homely towns can yeeld : 65
But in the Court be quainter dames than she,
Whose faces are enricht with honours taint,
Whose bewties stand vpon the stage of fame,
And vaunt their trophies in the courts of loue. Edward. Ah, Ned, but hadst thou watcht her as my self, 70
And seene the secret bewties of the maid,
Their courtly coinesse were but foolery. Ermsbie. Why, how watcht you her, my lord? Edward. When as she swept like Venus through the house,
And in her shape fast foulded vp my thoughtes : 75
Into the Milkhouse went I with the maid,
And there amongst the cream-boles she did shine,
As Pal/ace mongst her Princely huswiferie :
She turnd her smocke ouer her Lilly armes,
And diued them into milke to run her cheese : 80
But, whiter than the milke, her christall skin,
Checked with lines of Azur, made her blush,
That art or nature durst bring for compare.
Ermsbie, if thou hadst seene as I did note it well,
How bewtie plaid the huswife, how this girle 85
Like Lucrece laid her fingers to the worke,
Thou wouldest with Targuine hazard Roome and all
To win the louely mayd of Fresingfield. Raphe. Sirha Ned, wouldst faine haue her? Edward. I, Raphe. 9o
Raphe. Why, Ned, I haue laid the plot in my head; thou
shalt haue her alreadie. Edward. He giue thee a new coat and learne me that. Raphe. Why, sirra Ned, weel ride to Oxford to Frier Bacon ;
oh, he is a braue scholler, sirra, they say he is a braue 95
Nigromancer, that he can make women of deuils, and
hee can iuggle cats into Costermongers. Edward. And how then, Raphe}
63 surpast Q$ 66 than] then Q2 3 69 Court of Loue Q2 %
78 Pallas Q%i
C 2
2o THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act I
Raphe. Marry, sirha, thou shalt go to him, and because thy father Harry shall not misse thee, hee shall turne me ioo into thee ; and He to the Court, and He prince it out, and he shall make thee either a silken purse, full of gold, or else a fine wrought smocke. —
Edward. But how shall I haue the mayd? 105
Raphe. Marry, sirha, if thou beest a silken purse full of gold, then on sundaies sheele hang thee by her side, and you must not say a word. Now, sir, when she comes into a great prease of people, for feare of the cut-purse on a sodaine sheele swap thee into her plackerd ; then, sirha, no being there you may plead for your selfe.
Ermsbie. Excellent pollicie !
Edward. But how if I be a wrought smocke?
Raphe. Then sheele put thee into her chest and lay thee into Lauender, and vpon some good day sheele put thee 115 on, and at night when you go to bed, then being turnd from a smocke to a man, you may make vp the match.
Lacie. Wonderfully wisely counselled, Raphe!
Edward. Raphe shall haue a new coate.
Raphe. God thanke you when I haue it on my backe, Ned. 120
Edward. Lacie, the foole hath laid a perfect plot ; For why our countrie Margret is so coy, And standes so much vpon her honest pointes, That marriage or no market with the mayd : Ermsbie, it must be nigromaticke spels 125
And charmes of art that must inchaine her loue, Or else shall Edward neuer win the girle. Therefore, my wags, weele horse vs in the morne, And post to Oxford to this iolly Frier : Bacon shall by his magicke doe this deed. 130
Warren. Content, my lord, and thats a speedy way To weane these head-strong puppies from the teat.
Edward. I am vnknowne, not taken for the Prince ; They onely deeme vs frolicke Courtiers, That reuell thus among our lieges game: 135
Therefore I haue deuised a pollicie. Lacie, thou knowst next friday is S. lames,
100 Henry £3 101 into thee] to thee Q2 3 109 presse £>2 3
110 sudden Q2 3 placked Q$ 125 nigromantick Q$
Sc I] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 21
And then the country flockes to Harlston faire ;
Then will the Keepers daughter frolicke there,
And ouer-shine the troupe of all the maids, 140
That come to see and to be seene that day.
Haunt thee disguisd among the countrie swaines ;
Fain thart a farmers sonne, not far from thence ;
Espie her loues, and who she liketh best : —
Coat him, and court her to controll the clovvne ; 145
Say that the Courtier tyred all in greene,
That helpt her handsomly to run her cheese,
And fild her fathers lodge with venison,
Commends him, and sends fairings to herselfe.
Buy something worthie of her parentage, 150
Not worth her beautie ; for, Lacie, then the faire
Affoords no Iewell fitting for the mayd :
And when thou talkest of me, note if she blush ;
Oh then she loues ; but if her cheekes waxe pale,
Disdaine it is. Lacie, send how she fares, 155
And spare no time nor cost to win her loues.
Lacie. I will, my lord, so execute this charge, As if that Lacie were in loue with her.
Edward. Send letters speedily to Oxford of the newes.
Raphe. And, sirha Lacie, buy me a thousand thousand 160 million of fine bels.
Lacie. What wilt thou doe with them, Raphe}
Raphe. Mary, euery time that Ned sighs for the Keepers daughter, lie tie a bell about him : and so within three or foure daies I will send word to his father Harry, that his 165 sonne and my maister Ned is become Loues morris dance.
Edward. Well, Lacie, looke with care vnto thy charge,, And I will hast to Oxford to the Frier, That he by art, and thou by secret gifts, Maist make me lord of merrie Fresingfeld. 170
Lacie. God send your honour your harts desire.
Exeunt.
138 Hurlston Qz 164 so that in Qi 105 Henry Qi 166 morris-
dance(r) Dyce, Ward
22 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act I
(Scene II. Friar Bacon's Cell at Oxford.")
Enter frier Bacon, ivith Miles his poore Scholer with bookes vnder his arme, with them Burden, Mason, Clement, three doctors.
Bacon. Miles where are you?
Allies. Hie sum, dostissime cV reuerendissime doctor.
Bacon. Attulisti inos\ libros meos de Necromantia ?
Miles. Ecce quam bonum 6° quam iocundum, habi tares libros 175
in vnum. Bacon. Now Maisters of our Academicke State,
That rule in Oxford Vizroies in your place,
Whose heads containe Maps of the liberall arts,
Spending your time in deapth of learned skill, 180
Why flocke you thus to Bacons secret Cell,
A Frier newly stalde in Brazennosel
Say whats your mind, that I may make replie. Burden. Bacon, we hear, that long we haue suspect,
That thou art read in Magicks mysterie; 185
In Piromancie to diuine by flames;
To tell by Hadromaticke ebbes and tides;
By Aeromancie to discouer doubts,
To plaine our questions, as Apollo did. Bacon. Well, maister Burden, what of all this ? 190
Miles. Marie, sir, he doth but fulfill by rehearsing of these
names the Fable of the Fox and the grapes ; that which
is aboue vs pertains nothing to vs. Burden. I tell thee, Bacon, Oxford makes report,
Nay, England and the court of Ifenrie saies 195
Thart making of a brazen head by art,
Which shall vnfold strange doubts and Aphoiismes,
And read a lecture in Philosophie,
And by the helpe of Diuels and ghastly fiends,
Thou meanst ere many yeares or daies be past, 200
To compasse England with a wall of brasse. Bacon. And what of this?
173 doctissime Dyce, Ward 174 nos] nostros Ward after Fleay
175 juenndum, habitare Q2 3 178 Vice roies Q2 3 182 Brazednose Q3
186 Piromancy Q2 3 187 hydromatic Dyce: hydromancy Ward
188 Aeromancy Q2 : Eromancy Q$ 189 our] out Q$, Dyce, Ward
Sc. II] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 23
Miles. What of this, Maister? why he doth speak mys- tically, for he knovves if your skill faile to make a brazen head, yet mother waters strong ale will fit his turne to 205 make him haue a copper nose.
Clement. Bacon, we come not greeuing at thy skill, But ioying that our Academie yeelds A man supposde the woonder of the world : For if thy cunning worke these myracles, 210
England and Europe shall admire thy fame, And Oxford shall in characters of brasse, And statues such as were built vp in Rome, Eternize Frier Bacon for his art.
Mason. Then, gentle Frier, tell vs thy intent. 215
Bacon. Seeing you come as friends vnto the frier, Resolue you doctors, Bacon can by bookes Make storming Boreas thunder from his caue, And dimme faire Luna to a darke Eclipse. The great arch-ruler, potentate of hell, 220
Trembles, when Bacon bids him, or his fiends, Bow to the force of his Pentageron. What art can worke, the frolicke frier knowes, And therefore will I turne my Magicke bookes, And straine out Nigromancie to the deepe. 225
I haue contrivd and framde a head of brasse (I made Belcephon hammer out the stuffe), And that by art shall read Philosophie : And I will strengthen England by my skill, That if ten Caesars livd and raignd in Rome, 230
"With all the legions Etirope doth containe, They should not touch a grasse of English ground : The worke that Ninus reard at Babylon, The brazen walles framde by Semiramis, Carued out like to the portall of the sunne, 235
Shall not be such as rings the English strond From Doner to the market place of Rie.
Burden. Is this possible?
Miles. He bring ye two or three witnesses.
Burden. What be those? 240
208 ioyeng Q\ 227 Belcepon <?3 staffe Qi 234 Scmiramais Qi
235 protall £3 237 Rye Q2 3 239 two] to Qi
t COLLINS II
24 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act I
Miles. Marry, Sir, three or foure as honest diuels, and good
companions as any be in hell. Mason. No doubt but magicke may doe much in this ;
For lie that reades but Mathematicke rules
Shall finde conclusions that auaile to vvorke 245
Wonders that passe the common sense of men. Burden. But Bacon roues a bow beyond his reach,
And tels of more than magicke can performe,
Thinking to get a fame by fooleries.
Haue I not past as farre in state of schooles, 250
And red of many secrets ? yet to thinke
That heads of Brasse can vtter any voice,
Or more, to tell of deepe philosophic,
This is a fable Aesop had forgot. Bacon. Burden, thou wrongst me in detracting thus ; 255
Bacon loues not to stuffe him selfe with lies :
But tell me fore these Doctors, if thou dare,
Of certaine questions I shall moue to thee. Burden. I will, aske what thou can. Miles. Marrie, Sir, heele straight be on your pickpacke to 260
knowe whether the feminine or the masculin gender be
most worthie. Bacon. Were you not yesterday, maister Burden, at Henly
vpon the Tliemls? Burden. I was, what then? 265
Bacon. What booke studied you there on all night? Burden. I ? none at all ; I red not there a line. Bacon. Then doctors, Frier Bacons art knowes nought. Clement. "What say you to this, maister Burden, doth hee
not touch you? 270
Burden. I passe not of his friuolous speeches. Miles. Nay, maister Burden, my maister, ere hee hath done
with you, will turne you from a doctor to a dunce, and
shake you so small, that he will leaue no more learning in
you than is in Balaams Asse. 275
Bacon. Maisters, for that learned Burdens skill is deepe,
241 of the honest Deuils (23 24G sence Q2 3 250 fare Qi
251 read Q2 3 and passim 254 Aesope Qi : Esop £3 263 Henley Qi
264 vpon Themes Q2 : vpon Theames @3 2(56 thereon Dyce, Ward
•^75 Balams Q2 3
Sell] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 25
And sore he doubts of Bacons Cabalisme,
He shew you why he haunts to Henly oft :
Not, doctors, for to tast the fragrant aire :
But there to spend the night in Alcumie, 2S0
To multiplie with secret spels of art ;
Thus priuat steales he learning from vs all.
To prooue my sayings true, He shew you straight,
The booke he keepes at Henly for him selfe.
Miles. Nay, now my maister goes to coniuration, take heede. 2S5
Bacon. Maisters, stand still, feare not, He shewe you but
his booke.
Heere he coniures.
Per omnes deos infernales Belcephon. Enter a woma7i with a shoulder oj 'mutton on a spit, and a Deuilt.
Miles. Oh, maister, cease your coniuration, or you spoile all ; for heeres a shee diuell come with a shoulder of 290 mutton on a spit : you haue mard the diuels supper, but no doubt hee thinkes our Colledge fare is slender, and so hath sent you his cooke with a shoulder of mutton, to make it exceed.
Hostesse. Oh where am I, or whats become of me?
Bacon. What art thou? 295
Hostesse. Hostesse at Henly, mistresse of the Bell.
Bacon. How earnest thou heere?
Hostesse. As I was in the kitchen mongst the maydes, Spitting the meate against supper for my guesse, A motion mooued me to looke forth of dore : 300
No sooner had I pried into the yard, But straight a whirlewind hoisted me from thence, And mounted me aloft vnto the cloudes. As in a trance I thought nor feared nought, Nor know I where or whether I was tane : 30;
Nor where I am, nor what these persons be.
Bacon. No? know you not maister Burden"}
Hostesse. Oh yes, good Sir, he is my daily guest. What, maister Burden ! twas but yesternight, That you and I at Henly plaid at cardes. 310
280 Alcumy Qi 3 283 saying Qi 3 290 heeres] her's Q2 3
292 faire (?3 299 gainst Dyce, Ward 302 wirlewind £3
•605 whither Q2
26 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act I
Burden. I knowe not what we did. A poxe of all coniuring
Friers. Clement. Now, iolly Frier, tell vs, is this the booke that
Burden is so carefull to looke on? Bacon. It is : but, Burden, tell me now, 315
Thinkest thou that Bacons Nicromanticke skill
Cannot performe his head and wall of Brasse,
When he can fetch thine hostesse in such post ? Miles. He warrant you, maister, if maister Burden could
coniure as well as you, hee would haue his booke eurie 320
night from Henly to study on at Oxford. Mason. Burden, what ! are you mated by this frolicke Frier?
Looke how he droops, his guiltie conscience
Driues him to bash and makes his hostesse blush. Bacon. Well, mistres, for I wil not haue you mist, 325
You shall to Henly to cheere vp your guests
Fore supper ginne. Burden, bid her adew, —
Say farewell to your hostesse fore she goes.
Sirha, away, and set her safe at home. Hostesse. Maister Burden, when shall we see you at Henly ? 330
Exeunt Hostesse and t/ie Deuill.
Burden. The deuill take thee and Henly too.
Miles. Maister, shall I make a good motion ?
Bacon. Whats that?
Miles. Marry, Sir, nowe that my hostesse is gone to prouide supper, coniure vp another spirite and send doctor Burden 335 flying after. —
Bacon. Thus, rulers of our Accademicke State,
You haue scene the Frier frame his art by proofe :
And as the colledge called Brazennose
Is vnder him, and he the maister there, 340
So surely shall this head of brasse be framde,
And yeeld forth strange and vncoth Aphorismes :
And Hell and Heccate shall faile the Frier,
But I will circle England round with brasse.
Miles. So be it, 6° nunc 6° semper, Amen. 345
Exeunt Omnes
318 thine] thy (O3 323 drops £3 325 Mistris £2 3 329 her
safe] her selfe Q$ ' 335 vp om. Q2 339 Brasen-nose £3 340 he
om. Q2 and he om. Q^ 345 munc Q$
Sc. Ill] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONG AY 27
( Scene III. At Harleston. >
Enter Margaret the f aire Mayd of Fresingfield, with Thomas and lone, and other clowties : Lacie disguised in coufttrie apparell.
Thomas. By my troth, Margret, heeres a wether is able to make a man call his father whorson ; if this wether hold, wee shall haue hay good cheape, and butter and cheese at Harlston will beare no price.
Margret. Thomas, maides when they come to see the faire 350 Count not to make a cope for dearth of hay : When we haue turnd our butter to the salt, And set our cheese safely vpon the rackes, Then let our fathers price it as they please. We countrie sluts of merry Fresingfield 355
Come to buy needlesse noughts to make vs fine, And looke that yong-men should be francke this day, And court vs with such fairings as they can. Phoebus is blythe and frolicke lookes from heauen, As when he courted louely Semele, 360
Swearing the pedlers shall haue emptie packs, If that faire wether may make chapmen buy.
Lade. But, louely Peggie, Semele is dead,
And therefore Phoebus from his pallace pries,
And seeing such a sweet and seemly saint, 365
Shewes all his glories for to court your selfe.
Margret. This is a fairing, gentle sir, indeed, To sooth me vp with such smooth flatterie ; But learne of me, your scoffes to broad before : Well lone, our bewties must abide their iestes, 370
We serue the turne in iolly Fresingfield.
lone. Margret, a farmers daughter for a farmers sonne : I warrant you, the meanest of vs both Shall haue a mate to leade vs from the Church. But, Thomas, whats the newes? what, in a dumpe? 375
Giue me your hand, we are neere a pedlers shop ; Out with your purse, we must haue fairings now.
Thomas. Faith, lone, and shall : He bestow a fairing on you,
S. D. Fresinfield Qt, disguisen Qj, 346 her's C?3 arlle (?3
348 chape Q2 3 '351 cohe £3 353 safely om. Q2 ' 354 father C?3
price] prize Dyce and Ward 366 glory Q$ 369 your scoffe's Q2 :
you scoffe's <23 370 beauty Q$ 372 Joane Q$
28 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act I
and then we will to the Tauern, and snap off a pint of wine or two. 380
All this while Lacie whispers Margret in the eare.
Margret. Whence are you, sir ? of Suffolke ? for your tearmes Are finer than the common sort of men.
Lacie. Faith, louely girle, I am of Beckles by, Your neighbour, not aboue six miles from hence, A farmers sonne, that neuer was so quaint 385
But that he could do courtesie to such dames : But trust me, Margret, I am sent in charge, From him that reueld in your fathers house, And fild his Lodge with cheere and venison, Tyred in greene : he sent you this rich purse, 390
His token that he helpt you run your cheese, And in the milkhouse chatted with your selfe.
Margret. To me? you forget your selfe.
Lacie. Women are often weake in memorie.
Margret. Oh pardon, sir, I call to mind the man, 395
Twere little manners to refuse his gift, And yet I hope he sends it not for loue : For we haue little leisure to debate of that.
Lone. What, Margret, blush not ! mayds must haue their loues.
Thomas. Nay, by the masse, she lookes pale as if she were 400 angrie.
Richard. Sirha, are you of Beckls ? I pray, how dooth goodman Cob ? my father bought a horse of him. He tell you, Marget, a were good to be a gentlemans iade, for of all things the foule hilding could not abide a doongcart. 405
Margret. How different is this farmer from the rest, That earst as yet hath pleasd my wandring sight ! His words are wittie, quickened with a smile, His courtesie gentle, smelling of the Court ; Facill and debonaire in all his deeds, 410
Proportiond as was Paris, when, in gray, He courted Aenon in the vale of Troy. Great lords haue come and pleaded for my loue :
379 we will goe to £3 off] of £3 S. D. whisper Qz 381, 382 Qq
print as prose 391 help your run Q^ 393 you forget your selfe
Dyce and Ward assign to Lacy 402 Beckles Q2 3 doth Q2
404 gentilemans Qi 405 dung-cart Q2 3
Sc Ill] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 29
Who but the Keepers lasse of Fresing field '?
And yet me thinks this Farmers iolly sonne 415
Passeth the prowdest that hath pleasd mine eye.
But, Peg, disclose not that thou art in loue,
And shew as yet no signe of loue to him,
Although thou well wouldst wish him for thy loue ;
Keepe that to thee till time doth serue thy turne, 420
To shew the greefe wherein thy heart doth burne.
Come, lone and Thomas, shall we to the faire?
You, Beckls man, will not forsake vs now. Lade. Not whilst I may haue such quaint girls as you. Margret. Well, if you chaunce to come by Fresingfield, 425
Make but a step into the Keepers lodge ;
And such poore fare as Woodmen can affoord,
Butter and cheese, creame, and fat venison,
You shall haue store, and welcome therewithal!. Lade. Gramarcies, Peggie, looke for me eare long. 430
Exeunt Omnes,
ACT II.
(Scene I. The Court at London.')
Enter Henry the third, the emperour, {the Duke of Saxony), the King of Castile, Elinor his daughter, Iaques Vandermast a Germaine.
Henrie. Great men of Europe, monarks of the West, Ringd with the wals of old Oceanus, Whose loftie sura;c is like the battelments That compast high built Babell in with towers, 435
Welcome my lords, welcome braue westerne kings, To Englands shore, whose promontorie cleeues Shewes Albion is another little world ; Welcome sayes English Henrie to you all, Chiefly vnto the louely Eleanour, 440
Who darde for Edivards sake cut through the Seas, And venture as Agenors damsell through the deepe, To get the loue of Henries wanton sonne.
Castile. Englands rich Monarch, braue Plantagenet,
415 joylly Q% 3 soone £3 416 bleas'd Q$ 427 stept Q2
428 fair £3 431 ere Q2 3 S. D. Germane Qi 3 434 surges Qq :
corr. Dyce 442 And venture as Agenor's damsel did sugg. Dycc
30 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act II
The Pryen mounts swelling aboue the clouds, 445
That ward the welthie Castile in with walles,
Could not detaine the beautious Eleanour;
But hearing of the fame of Edwards youth,
She darde to brooke Neptunus haughtie pride,
And bide the brunt of froward Eolus. 450
Then may faire England welcome her the more. Elinor. After that English Henrie by his lords
Had sent prince Edwards louely counterfeit,
A present to the Castile Elinor,
The comly pourtrait of so braue a man, 455
The vertuous fame discoursed of his deeds,
Edwards couragious resolution,
Done at the holy land fore Damas walles,
Led both mine eye and thoughts in equall links,
To like so of the English Monarchs sonne, 460
That I attempted perrils for his sake. Emperour. Where is the Prince, my lord ? Henrie. He posted down, not long since, from the court,
To Suffolke side, to merrie Eremingham,
To sport himselfe amongst my fallow deere : 465
From thence, by packets sent to Hampton house,
We heare the Prince is ridden, with his lords,
To Oxford, in the Academie there
To heare dispute amongst the learned men,
But we will send foorth letters for my sonne, 470
To will him come from Oxford to the Court. Empe. Nay, rather, Henrie, let vs, as we be,
Ride for to visite Oxford with our traine.
Faine would I see your Vniuersities,
And what learned men your Academie yields, 475
From Haspurg haue I brought a learned clarke,
To hold dispute with English Orators.
This doctor, surnam'd Iaques Vandermast,
A Germaine borne, past into Padua,
To Florence, and to faire Bolonia, 480
To Paris, F/ieims, and stately Orleans,
454 Castile] costly Ql 456 discouered £3 459 Lad Q3 466 Hamton Ql 468 the om. Qt, 473 Ozford £3 " 478 surmamde Qi Vander-
inan Qi 481 straitly Q$
Sc.I] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 31
And talking there with men of art, put downe The chiefest of them all in Aphorismes, In Magicke, and the Mathematicke rules : Now let vs, Henrie, trie him in your schooles. 485
Henrie. He shal, my lord ; this motion likes me wel. Weele progresse straight to Oxford with our trains, And see what men our Academie bringes. And, woonder Vandermast, welcome to me : In Oxford shalt thou find a iollie frier, 490
Cald Frier Bacon, Engla?ids only flower : Set him but Non-plus in his magicke spels, And make him yeeld in Mathematicke rules, And for thy glorie I will bind thy browes, Not with a poets garland made of Baies, 495
But with a coronet of choicest gold. Whilst then we tfitt to Oxford with our troupes, Lets in and banquet in our English court.
Exit.
<Scene II. At Oxford.}
Enter Raphe Simnell in Edwardes apparrell, Edward, Warren,
Ermsby disguised.
Raphe. Where be these vacabond knaues, that they attend no better on their maister? 500
Edward. If it please your honour, we are all ready at an inch.
Raphe. Sirha Ned, He haue no more post horse to ride on : He haue another fetch.
Ertnsbie. I pray you, how is that, my Lord ?
Raphe. Marrie, sir, He send to the He of Eely for foure or 505 fiue dozen of Geese, and He haue them tide six and six together with whipcord ; Now vpon their backes will I haue a faire field bed, with a Canapie ; and so when it is my pleasure He flee into what place I please ; this will be easie. 510
Warren. Your honour hath said well ; but shall we to Brasennose Colledge before we pull off our bootes?
Ertnsbie. Warren, well motioned ; wee will to the Frier
483 Aphorisemes £3 485 Schoole Qi 491 flowre Q* 3 497 fit]
sit Q2 : set Dyce and Ward 499 vagabond Q2 3 501 all om. Q2 3
502 post-horses Q$ 503 fetcht £3 508 Canopy Q2 3 512 Brazennose Q$
32 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act II
Before we reuell it within the towne.
Raphe, see you keepe your countenance like a Prince. 515
Raphe. Wherefore haue I such a companie of cutting knaues
to wait vpon me, but to keep and defend my countenance
against all mine enemies ? Haue you not good swords and
bucklers ? —
Enter Bacon and Miles,
Ermsbie. Stay, who comes heere? 520
Warren. Some scholler; and weele aske him where Frier
Bacon is. Bacon. Why, thou arrant dunce, shal I neuer make thee good
scholler? doth not all the towne crie out, and say, Frier
Bacons subsiser is the greatest blockhead in all Oxford? 525
why, thou canst not speake one word of true Latine. Miles. No sir, yes, what is this els ; Ego sum tuns homo,
I am your man ? I warrant you, sir, as good Tullies
phrase as any is in Oxford. Bacon. Come on, sirha ; what part of speech is Ego ? Miles. Ego, that is I ; marrie, nomen substantiuo. 530
Bacon. How prooue you that? Miles. Why, sir, let him prooue himselfe and a will ; I can
be hard, felt, and vnderstood. Bacon. Oh grosse dunce !
Here beate him. Edw. Come, let vs breake off this dispute between these two. 535
Sirha, where is Brazennose Colledge} Miles. Not far from Copper-Smithes hall. Edward. What, doest thou mocke me? Miles. Not I, sir, but what would you at Brazennose} Ermsbie. Marrie, we would speake with frier Bacon. 540
Miles. Whose men be you? Ermsbie. Marrie, scholler, heres our maister. Raphe. Sirha, I am the maister of these good fellowes. Mayst
thou not know me to be a Lord by my reparrell? Miles. Then heeres good game for the hawke ; for heers the 545
maister foole, and a couie of Cockscombs : one wise man
I thinke would spring you all. Edward. Gogs wounds ! Warren, kill him.
527 yes om. Q$ : yet Dyce and Ward 529 onom. Q2 3 533 heard
Q2 3 535 off] of Qz 536 Braison-nose Q$
Sell] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 33
Warren. Why, Ned, I thinke the deuill be in my sheath,
I cannot get out my dagger. 550
Ermsbie. Nor I mine. Swones, Ned, I thinke I am bewitcht. Miles. A companie of scabbes ! the proudest of you all
drawe your weapon if he can. See how boldly I speak
now my maister is by. Edivard. I striue in vaine; but if my sword be shut, 555
And coniured fast by magicke in my sheath,
Villaine, heere is my fist.
Strike him a box on the eare. Miles. Oh, I beseech you coniure his hands too, that he
may not lift his amies to his head, for he is light
fingered ! 560
Raphe. Ned, strike him, He warrant thee by mine honour. Bacon. What meanes the English prince to wrong my man ? Edward. To whom speakest thou? Bacon. To thee.
Edward. Who art thou? 565
Bacon. Could you not iudge, when all your swords grew fast,
That frier Bacon was not farre from hence ?
Edward, King Henries sonne and Prince of Wales,
Thy foole disguisd cannot conceale thy selfe :
I know both Ermsbie and the Sussex Earle, 570
Els Frier Bacon had but little skill.
Thou comest in post from merrie Fresingfield,
Fast fancied to the Keepers bonny lasse,
To craue some succour of the iolly Frier ;
And Bade, Earle of Lincohie, hast thou left, 575
To treat faire Margret to allow thy loues :
But friends are men, and loue can baffle lords ;
The Earle both woes and courtes her for himselfe. Warren. Ned, this is strange ; the frier knoweth al. Ermsbie. Appollo could not vtter more than this. 580
Edivard. I stand amazed to heare this iolly Frier,
Tell euen the verie secrets of my thoughts :
But, learned Bacon, since thou knowest the cause
Why I did post so fast from Fresingfield,
555 be] by Qi 558 hand Q2 3 to <23 569 fool disguise Ward
572 poast <?2 3 575 Eare Qi 578 wooes Q2 3 580 Apollo Q2 3
581 here of this Q$ 583 knew Q$
COLLINS. II D
34 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act II
Helpe, Frier, at a pinch, that I may haue 585
The loue of louely Margret to my selfe,
And as I am true Prince of Wales, lie giue
Liuing and lands to strength thy colledge state. Warren. Good Frier, helpe the Prince in this. Ralphe. Why, seruant Ned, will not the frier doe it ? — Were 590
not my sword glued to my scabberd by coniuration,
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 coniured that we shall
neuer see them. 595
Ermsbte. What, doctor, in a dumpe? tush, helpe the prince,
And thou shalt see how liberall he will prooue. Bacon. Craue not such actions greater dumps than these?
I will, my lord, straine out my magicke spels ;
For this day comes the earle to Fresingfield, 600
And fore that night shuts in the day with darke
Theile be betrothed ech to other fast :
But come with me ; weele to my studie straight,
And in a glasse prospectiue I will shew
Whats done this day in merry Fresingfield. 605
Edward. Gramercies, Bacon, I will quite thy paine. Bacon. But send your traine, my lord, into the towne,
My scholler shall go bring them to their Inne :
Meane while weele see the knauerie of the Earle. Edward. Warren, leaue me: and Ermsbie, take the foole;6io
Let him be maister and go reuell it,
Till I and Frier Bacon talke a while. Warren. We will, my lord. Raphe. Faith, Ned, and He lord it out till thou comest ;
He be Prince of Wales ouer all the blacke pots in Oxford. 615
Exeunt.
(Scene III. Friar Bacons Cell.} Bacon and Edward goes into the study. Bacon. Now, frolick Edward, welcome to my Cell ; Heere tempers Frier Bacon many toies,
5S7 as / am the Prince £3 588 Colledge' Q2 : college-state Dyce
and Ward 596 Wat Qi 600 to] of Q2 3 601 shut £3
602 each Q2 3 603 thy study £3 606 quit (?3 607 your] thy Qt,
into] unto Q^ 608 go and bring £3 611 master, Q2 $,Dyce and Ward
Sc. Ill] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 35
And holds this place his consistorie court,
Wherein the diuels pleads homage to his words.
Within this glasse prospectiue thou shalt see 620
This day whats done in merry Fresingfield
Twixt louely Peggie and the Lincolne earle. Edward. Frier, thou gladst me : now shall Edward trie
How Lade meaneth to his soueraigne lord. Bacon. Stand there and looke directly in the glasse. 62 =
Enter Margret and Frier Bungay.
Bacon. What sees my lord ?
Edward. I see the Keepers louely lasse appeare,
As bright-some as the parramour of Mars,
Onely attended by a iolly frier. Bacon. Sit still, and keepe the christall in your eye. 630
Margret. But tell me, frier Bungay, is it true,
That this faire courtious countrie swaine,
Who saies his father is a farmer nie,
Can be lord Zacie, Earle of Lincolnshire! Bungay. Peggie, tis true, tis Lacie for my life, 635
Or else mine art and cunning both doth faile,
Left by prince Edward to procure his loues ;
For he in greene that holpe you runne your cheese,
Is sonne to Henry, and the prince of Wales. Margret. Be what he will his lure is but for lust : 640
But did lord Lacie like poore Margret,
Or would he daine to wed a countrie lasse,
Frier, I would his humble handmayd be,
And for great wealth quite him with courtesie. Bungay. Why, Margret, doest thou loue him? 645
Margret. His personage, like the pride of vaunting Troy,
Might well auouch to shadow Hellens rape :
His wit is quicke and readie in conceit,
As Greece affoorded in her chiefest prime.
Courteous, ah Frier, full of pleasing smiles. 650
Trust me, I loue too much to tell thee more,
619 pleade Qi 624 his Dyce : this Qq 628 bright-some Dyce :
bright-sunne Qq Paramour (?2 : paramont Qi, 631 it is true, Q$
634 Lincornshier £3 635 true] time Qi 636 doth] doe Q2
638 helpe Qi, to run Q2 3 640 lure] loue (?3 C45 thou om. Qi 3 646 a pride £3 647 rape Dyce : cape Qq
D 2
^
6 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act II
Suffice to me he is Englands parramour. Bungay. Hath not ech eye that viewd thy pleasing face
•Surnamed thee faire maid of Fresingfield '? Margret. Yes, Bungay, and would God the louely Earle 655
Had that in esse, that so many sought. I'n/igay. Feare not, the Frier will not be behind
To shew his cunning to entangle loue. Edward. I thinke the Frier courts the bonny wench ;
Bacon, me thinkes he is a lustie churle. 660
Bacon. Now looke, my lord.
E?iter Lacie. Edward. Gogs wounds, Bacon, heere comes Lacie. Bacon. Sit still, my lord, and marke the commedie. Bungay. Heeres Lacie ; Margret, step aside awhile. Lacie. Daphne, the damsell that caught Phaebus fast, 665
And lockt him in the bfightnesse of her lookes,
Was not so beauteous in Appollos eyes
As is faire Margret to the Lincolne Earle.
Recant thee, Lacie, thou art put in trust :
Edward, thy soueraignes sonne, hath chosen thee, 670
A secret friend, to court her for himselfe :
And darest thou wrong thy Prince with trecherie ?
Lacie, loue makes no exception of a friend,
Nor deemes it of a Prince but as a man :
Honour bids thee controll him in his lust ; 675
His wooing is not for to wed the girle,
But to intrap her and beguile the lasse :
Lacie, thou louest ; then brooke not such abuse,
But wed her, and abide thy Princes frowne :
For better die, then see her hue disgracde. 6S0
Margret. Come, Frier, I will shake him from his dumpes.
How cheere you, sir ? a penie for your thought :
Your early vp, pray God it be the neere.
What, come from Beckles in a morne so soone ? Lacie. Thus watchfull are such men as hue in loue, 685
Whose eyes brooke broken slumbers for their sleepe,
652 English Qi 658 or entangle Qi 665 Phoebus £3
670 the soueraine son Q$ 671 to court him her Q$ 673 acception Qi
675 thee] me Q2 3 680 better om. Q2 3 682 your] my £3 684 what 'are come Q2 3
Sc. Ill] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 37
I tell thee, Peggie, since last Harlston faire
My minde hath felt a heape of passions. Margret. A trustie man, that court it for your friend.
Woo you still for the courtier all in greene ? 690
I maruell that he sues not for himselfe. Lacie. Peggie, I pleaded first to get your grace for him ;
But when mine eies suruaid your beautious lookes,
Loue, like a wagge, straight diued into my heart,
And there did shrine the Idea of your selfe : 695
Pittie me though I be a farmers sonne.
And measure not my riches, but my loue. Margret. You are verie hastie ; for to garden well,
Seeds must haue time to sprout before they spring :
Loue ought to creepe as doth the dials shade, 700
For timely ripe is rotten too too soone. Bungay. Deus hie ; roome for a merry Frier !
What, youth of Heckles, with the Keepers lasse?
Tis well ; but tell me, heere you any newes. Margret. No, Frier : what newes ? 705
Bungay. Heere you not how the purseuants do post
With proclamations through ech country towne? Lacie. For what, gentle frier ? tell the newes. Bungay. Dwelst thou in Beckles, and heerst not of these news ?
Lacie, the Earle of Lincolne, is late fled 710
From Windsor court, disguised like a swaine,
And lurkes about the countrie heere vnknowne.
Henrie suspects him of some trecherie,
And therefore doth proclaime in euery way,
That who can take the Lincolne earle shall haue, 715
Paid in the Exchequer, twentie thousand crownes. Lacie. The earle of Lincoln ! Frier, thou art mad :
It was some other : thou mistakest the man :
The earle of Lincolne ! why, it cannot be. Margret. Yes, verie well, my lord, for you are he : 720
The keepers daughter tooke you prisoner,
Lord Lacie, yeeld, He be your gailor once. Edward. How familiar they be, Bacon !
680 it om. Qi 690 Woo] Woe Ql 698 You are verie hastie for to Q, corr. Dyce : You are over hastie for to sugg- J. C. Smith 705 Dyce and
Ward assign to Lacy 706 Pursevants Q$ 709 of om. . -
717 thou art] art thou Q$
38 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act II
Bacon. Sit still and marke the sequell of their loues.
Lade. Then am I double prisoner to thy selfe : 725
Peggie, I yeeld ; but are these newes in iest ? Margret. In iest with you, but earnest vnto me :
For why these wrongs do wring me at the heart.
Ah, how these earles and noble men of birth
Flatter and faine to forge poore womens ill. 730
Lade. Beleeue me, lasse, I am the Lincolne Earle :
I not denie, but, tyred thus in rags,
I liued disguisd to winne faire Peggies loue. Margret. What loue is there where wedding ends not loue ? Lade. I meant, faire girle, to make thee Lacies wife. 735
Margret. I little thinke that earles wil stoop so low. Lade. Say, shall I make thee countesse ere I sleep? Marg. Handmaid vnto the earle, so please himselfe :
A wife in name, but seruant in obedience. Lade. The Lincolne countesse, for it shalbe so : 740
He plight the bands, and seale it with a kisse. Edward. Gogs wounds, Bacon, they kisse ! He stab them. Bacon. Oh, hold your handes, my lord, it is the glasse ! Edward. Coller to see the traitors gree so well
Made me thinke the shadowes substances. 745
Bacon. Twere a long poinard, my lord, to reach betweene
Oxford and Fresingfield \ but sit still and see more. Bungay. Well, lord of Lincolne, if your loues be knit,
And that your tongues and thoughts do both agree,
To auoid insuing iarres, He hamper vp the match. 750
He take my portace forth, and wed you heere,
Then go to bed and seale vp your desires. Lacie. Frier, content ; Peggie, how like you this ? Margret. What likes my lord is pleasing vnto me. Bungay. Then hand-fast hand, and I wil to my booke. 75,5 Bacon. What sees my lord now ? Edward. Bacon, I see the louers hand in hand,
The Frier readie with his portace there
To wed them both : then am I quite vndone.
Bacon, helpe now, if ere thy magicke serude, 760
724 sequill of there loue (?3 730 forge] forgoe (?3 732 I not deny
but, Dyct ami Ward '■'■' meane Q3, Dyce, Ward ~\\ seale] saile £3
74." Made me [to] think Dyce, Ward 700 bis in Qi 3: thy] the Qiprimo
Sc III] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 39
Helpe, Bacon, stop the marriage now,
If diuels or nigromansie may suffice,
And I will giue thee fortie thousand crownes. Bacon. Feare not my lord, He stop the iolly Frier
For mumbling vp his orisons this day. 765
Lacie. Why speakst not, Bungay? Frier, to thy booke.
Bungay is mute, crying Hud hud.
Margret. How lookest thou, frier, as a man distraught?
Reft of thy sences, Bungay? shew by signes
If thou be dum what passions holdeth thee. 770
Lacie. Hees dumbe indeed : Bacon hath with his diuels
Inchanted him, or else some strange disease
Or Appoplexie hath possest his lungs :
But, Peggie, what he cannot with his booke
Weele twixt vs both vnite it vp in heart. 775
Margret. Els let me die, my lord, a miscreant. Edzvard. Why stands frier Bungay so amazd? Bacon. I haue strook him dum, my lord ; and if your honor
please
He fetch this Bungay straightway from Fresing field,
And he shall dine with vs in Oxford here. 780
Edward. Bacon, doe that, and thou contentest me. Lacie. Of courtesie, Margret, let vs lead the frier
Vnto thy fathers lodge, to comfort him
With brothes to bring him from this haplesse trance. Margret. Or els, my lord, we were passing vnkinde 785
To leaue the frier so in his distresse.
Enter a detail, a?id carrie Bungay on his backe.
Margret. O helpe, my lord ! a deuill, a deuill, my lord ! Looke how he carries Bungay on his backe ! Lets hence, for Bacons spirits be abroad. 790
Exeunt.
Edward. Bacon, I laugh to see the iolly Frier Mounted vpon the diuell, and how the Earle
765 For] From Ward after Wagner 769 Reft if thy siences Qi
770 passion (?2 3 772 Inchant Q$ 773 Apoplexie Q2 : Aporplexie
hath passed him longs Ql 777 Bungay MS. corr. in Q$ : Bacon Qq
779 straightway] straight Ward,sugg. Dyce 781 boths Qt, 790 Bacon Qi 791 laugh] loue Q$
4o THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act II
Flees with his bonny lasse for feare. Assoone as Bungay is at Brazennose,
And I haue chatted with the merrie frier, 795
I will in post hie me to Fresingfield, And quite these wrongs on Lacie ere it be long. Bacon. So be it, my lord, but let vs to our dinner : For ere we haue taken our repast awhile, We shall haue Bungay brought to Brazennose. 800
Exeunt.
(Scene IV. The Regent-house at Oxford.')
Enter three doctors, Burden, Mason, Clement.
Mason. Now that we are gathered in the regent house,
It fits vs talke about the Kings repaire ;
For he, troopt with all the western Kings,
That lie alongst the Dansick seas by East,
North by the clime of frostie Germanie, 805
The Almain Monarke, and the Saxon duke,
Castile, and louely Ellinor with him,
Haue in their iests resolued for Oxford towne. Burden. We must lay plots of stately tragedies,
Strange comick showes, such as proud Rossius 810
Vaunted before the Romane Emperours,
To welcome all the westerne Potentates. Clement. But more ; the King by letters hath foretold
That Fredericke, the Altnaine Emperour,
Hath brought with him a Germane of esteeme, 815
Whose surname is Don laquesse Vanderniast,
Skilfg.ll in magicke and those secret arts. Mason. Then must we all make sute vnto the frier,
To Frier Bacon, that he vouch this taske,
And vndertake to counteruaile in skill S20
The German, els theres none in Oxford can
Match and dispute with learned Vanderniast. Burden. Bacon, if he will hold the German play,
793 his] the 03 795 om. Q2 3 796 in post] not passe £3
802 Kings] long Q2 3 803 troopt] trooped Dyce 804 Dancing Qi
806 Almaiiine Manarke @3 Saxon Dyce : Scocon Qq 807 Castle Q$
809 of] for £3 810 Camicke Q$ 811 Romans Q$ 812 Qq give
to Clement
Sc IV] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 4r
Will teach him what an English Frier can doe :
The diuell I thinke dare not dispute with him. 825
Clement. Indeed, mas doctor, he (dis)pleasured you,
In that he brought your hostesse, with her spit,
From Hcnly, posting vnto Brazennose. Burden. A vengeance on the Frier for his paines.
But leauing that, lets hie to Bacon straight, S30
To see if he will take this taske in hand. Clement. Stay, what rumor is this ? the towne is vp in a
Mutinie : what hurly burlie is this ?
Enter a Constable, with Raphe, Warren, Ermsbie and Miles.
Constable. Nay, maisters, if you were nere so good, you shall before the doctors to aunswer your misdemeanour. 835
Burden. Whats the matter, fellow ?
Constable. Marie, sir, heres a companie of rufflers that, drinking in the Tauerne, haue made a great braule, and almost kilde the vintner. 840
Miles. Salue, doctor Burden ! this lubberly lurden, 111 shapte and ill faced, disdaind and disgraced, What he tels vnto vobis, mentitur de nobis.
Burden. Who is the maister and cheefe of this crew?
Miles. Ecce asinum mundi, figura ro fundi ; S45
Neat sheat and fine, as briske as a cup of wine.
Burden. What are you ?
Raphe. I am, father doctor, as a man would say, the Bel- wether of this copany : these are my lords, and I the prince of Wales. 850
Clement. Are you Edward, the Kings sonne?
Raphe. Sirra Miles, bring hither the tapster that drue the wine ; and I warrant when they see how soundly I haue broke his head, theile say twas done by no lesse man than a prince. 855
Mason. I cannot beleeue that this is the prince of Wales.
Warren. And why so, sir ?
Mason. For they say the prince is a braue and a wise gentleman.
War. Why, and thinkest thou, doctor, that he is not so ? 860
824 Will Dyce : Weele Qi : We'le Q2 3 826 displeasured Dyce\
pleasured Qq 830 hie om. Q2 3 845 fugura Q\
42 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act II
Darst thou detract and derogat from him, Being so louely and so braue a youth ?
Ermsbie. Whose face, shining with many a sugred smile, Bewraies that he is bred of princely race.
Miles. And yet, maister doctor, to speake like a proctor, 865 And tell vnto you, what is veriment and true, To cease of this quarrell, looke but on his apparrell ; Then marke but my talis, he is great prince of Walt's, The cheefe of our gregis, and Jilius regis, Then ware what is done, for he is Henries white sonne. 870
Raphe. Doctors, whose doting night caps are not capable of my ingenious digmtie, know that I am Edivard Plantage?iet, whom if you displease, will make a shippe that shall hold all your colleges, and so carrie away the Niniuersitie, with a fayre wind, to the Bankeside in Southwarke : how sayst 875 thou, Ned Warraine, shall I not do it?
Warren. Yes my good lord ; and if it please your lordship, I wil gather vp al your old pantophles, and with the corke make you a Pinnis of flue hundred tunne, that shall serue the turne maruellous well, my lord. 880
Ermsbie. And I, my lord, will haue Pioners to vndermine the towne, that the very gardens and orchards be carried away for your summer walkes.
Miles. And I with scientia, and great diligentia,
Will coniure and charme, to keepe you from harme, 885
That vtrum horum mauis, your very great nauis,
Like Bartlets ship, from Oxford do skip,
With Colleges and schooles, full loaden with fooles,
Quid dices ad hoc, worshipfull domine Dawcocke ?
Clement. Why, harebraind courtiers, are you drunke or mad, 890 To taunt vs vp with such scurilitie ? Deeme you vs men of base and light esteeme, To bring vs such a fop for Henries sonne? Call out the beadls and conuay them hence Straight to Bocardo : let the roisters lie 895
Close clapt in bolts, vntill their wits be tame.
Ermsbie. Why, shall we to prison, my lord ?
864 bread Q$ 866 verimens Q}, 8/3 whom] who Q^ [I] will
Dyce and Ward 880 turne] tune Qi marvellou Qi 887 Bartlets\
Barclay's Dyce and Ward 8 is!) diets Dyce and Ward 893 for] fore Qi
894 henee Qi
Sc. IV] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 43
Raphe. What saist, Miles, shall I honour the prison with my presence ?
Miles. No no, out with your blades, and hamper these iades, 900 Haue a flurt and a crash, now play reuell dash, And teach these Sacerdos, that the Bocardos, Like pezzants and elues, are meet for themselues.
Mason. To the prison with them, constable.
Warren. Well, doctors, seeing I haue sported me, 905
With laughing at these mad & merrie wagges, Know that prince Edward is at Brazennose, And, this, attired like the prince of Wales, Is Raphe, King Henries only loued foole ; I, Earle of Sussex, and this Ermsbie, 910
One of the priuie chamber to the King, Who, while the prince with Frier Bacon staies, Haue reueld it in Oxford as you see.
Mason. My lord, pardon vs, we knew not what you were : But courtiers may make greater skapes than these. 915
Wilt please your honour dine with me to day ?
Warren. I will, maister doctor, and satisfie the vintner for his hurt ; only I must desire you to imagine him all this fore- noon the prince of Wales.
Mason. I will, sir. 920
Raphe. And vpon that I will lead the way; onely I will haue Miles go before me, because I haue heard Henrie say that wisedome must go before Maiestie.
Exeicnt Omnes.
ACT III.
(Scene I. At Fressingfeld.)
Enter prince Edward with his poinard in his hand, Lacie
and Margret. Edivard. Lacie, thou canst not shroud thy traitrous thoughts, Nor couer as did Cass ins all his wiles ; 925
For Edivard hath an eye that lookes as farre As Lincaeus from the shores of Grecia. Did I not sit in Oxford by the Frier,
901 play om. Q2 3 910 Sussex] Essex Qq 913 \tom. (?2 3
915 scapes Q2 3 925 his] thy Dyce and Ward 928 in] at £3
44 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act III
And see thee court the mayd of Fresingfield,
Sealing thy flattering fancies with a kisse ? 930
Did not prowd Bungay draw his portasse foorth,
And ioyning hand in hand had married you,
If Frier Bacon had not stroke him dumbe,
And mounted him vpon a spirits backe,
That we might chat at Oxford with the frier? 935
Traitor, what answerst ? is not all this true ? Lacie. Truth all, my Lord, and thus I make replie.
At Harlstone faire, there courting for your grace,
When as mine eye suruaid her curious shape,
And drewe the beautious glory of her looks 940
To diue into the center of my heart,
Loue taught me that your honour did but iest,
That princes were in fancie but as men,
How that the louely maid of Fresingfield
Was fitter to be Lacies wedded wife, 945
Than concubine vnto the prince of Wales. Edivard. Iniurious Lacie, did I loue thee more
Than Alexatider his Hephestion ?
Did I vnfould the passions of my loue,
And locke them in the closset of thy thoughts ? 950
Wert thou to Edivard second to himselfe,
Sole freind and partner of his secreat loues,
And could a glaunce of fading bewtie breake
The inchained fetters of such priuat freindes ?
Base coward, false, and too effiminate 955
To be coriuall with a prince in thoughts !
From Oxford haue I posted since I dinde,
To quite a traitor fore that Edivard sleepe. Marg. Twas I, my Lord, not Lacie, stept awry,
For oft he sued and courted for your selfe, 960
And still woode for the courtier all in greene.
But I whome fancy made but ouer fond,
Pleaded my selfe with looks as if I loud;
I fed myne eye with gazing on his face,
And still bewicht loud Lacie with my looks ; 965
930 thy] and Qi 931 protasse Q3 033 strooke Q$ t 938 Hairlstone (?3 949 passion Qi 950 clozet Q2 3 954 Th' inchained Qi
956 corrival Q2 3 961 woo'd Q2 3 962 whome] who Ql
963 I om. Qi
Sc.I] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 45
My hart with sighes, myne eyes pleaded with tears,
My face held pittie and content at once ;
And more I could not sipher out by signes
But that I loud Lord Lacie with my heart.
Then, worthy Edivard, measure with thy minde, 970
If womens fauours will not force men fall,
If bewtie, and if darts of persing loue,
Is not of force to bury thoughts of friendes. Edward. I tell thee, Peggie, I will haue thy loues ;
Edward or none shall conquer Margret. 975
In Frigats bottomd with rich Sethin planks,
Topt with the loftie firs of Libanon,
Stemd and incast with burnisht Iuories
And ouerlaid with plates of Persian wealth,
Like Thetis shalt thou wanton on the waues, 980
And draw the Dolphins to thy louely eyes,
To daunce lauoltas in the purple streames ;
Sirens, with harpes and siluer psalteries,
Shall waight with musicke at thy frigots stem,
And entertaine faire Margret with their laies. 985
England and Englands wealth shall wait on thee,
Brittaine shall bend vnto her princes loue,
And doe due homage to thine excellence,
If thou wilt be but Edwards Margret. Margret. Pardon, my lord : if loues great roialtie 990
Sent me such presents as to Danae;
If Phoebus tired in Latonas webs,
Came courting from the beautie of his lodge ;
The dulcet tunes of frolicke Mercurie,
Nor all the wealth heauens treasurie anoords, 995
Should make me leaue lord Lacie or his loue. Edw. I haue learnd at Oxford, there, this point of schooles,
Ablata causa, tollitur effect us :
Lacie, the cause that Margret cannot loue
Nor fix her liking on the English Prince, 1000
Take him away, and then the effects will faile.
968 cypher Q2 3 972 beauty Q2 3 piercing Q2 3 973 Is] Are
Dyce and Ward 976 Settling £3 984 wait Qi 985 their Dyce :
her Qq 992 Phoeabus Q$ tired Dyce: tied Qi : tyed Q2 : try 1. -.;.
993 Came Dyce: Come Qq 994 tunes] turns Q3 995 Nor Dyce: Not Qq 996 Sould (23 998 Abbata Qi 1001 will faile] well faire Ql
46 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act III
Villaine, prepare thy selfe ; for I will bathe
My poinard in the bosome of an earle. Lacie. Rather then hue, and misse faire Margrets loue,
Prince Edtvard, stop not at the fatall doome, 1005
But stabb it home, end both my loues and life. Marg. Braue Prince of Wales, honoured for royall deeds,
Twere sinne to staine faire Venus courts with blood,
Loues conquests ends, my Lord, in courtesie;
Spare Lacie, gentle Edward, let me die, 1010
For so both you and he doe cease your loues. Edward. Lacie shall die as traitor to his Lord. Lacie. I haue deserued it, Edward, act it well. Margret. What hopes the Prince to gaine by Lacies death ? Edward. To end the loues twixt him and Afargeret. 10 r5
Marg. Why, thinks King LLenries sonne that Margrets loue
Hangs in the vncertaine ballance of proud time?
That death shall make a discord of our thoughts?
No, stab the earle, and fore the morning sun
Shall vaunt him thrice ouer the loftie east, 1020
Margret will meet her Lacie in the heauens. Lacie. If ought betides to louely Margret,
That wrongs or wrings her honour from content,
Europes rich wealth nor Englands monarchic
Should not allure Lacie to ouerliue. 1025
Then, Edward, short my life and end her loues. Margret. Rid me, and keepe a friend worth many loues. Lacie. Nay, Edward, keepe a loue worth many friends. Afargret. And if thy mind be such as fame hath blazde,
Then, princely Edward, let vs both abide 1030
The fatall resolution of thy rage :
Banish thou fancie, and imbrace reuenge,
And in one toombe knit both our carkases,
Whose hearts were linked in one perfect loue. Edivard. Edward, art thou that famous prince of JVa/es, 1035
Who at Damasco beat the Sarasens,
And broughtst home triumphe on thy launces point,
1005 fatoll £>3 1007 royall] Riall (?3 1009 conquest £2 3, Dyce,
Ward 1010 gentile Qi 1015 Margaret Q2 1017 th' uncertaine Q2 3 1018 thoughts] throats £3 1024 health (?3 Manarchie £3
1027 a loue worth many friends (O3 1036 Sarazens Q2 3 1037 And
brought home triump on thy Lances point ? Q3
Sc. I] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 47
And shall thy plumes be puld by Venus downe?
Is it princely to disseuer louers leagues,
To part such friends as glorie in their loues? 1040
Leaue, Ned, and make a vertue of this fault,
And further Peg and Lacie in their loues :
So in subduing fancies passion,
Conquering thy selfe, thou getst the richest spoile.
Lacie, rise vp. Faire Peggie, heeres my hand, 1045
The prince of Wales hath conquered all his thoughts,
And all his loues he yeelds vnto the Earle.
Lacie, enioy the maid of Fresing field ';
Make her thy Lincolne countesse at the church,
And Ned, as he is true Plantagenet, 1050
Will giue her to thee franckly for thy wife. Lacie. Humbly I take her of my soueraigne,
As if that Edward gaue me Englands right,
And richt me with the Albion diadem. Margret. And doth the English Prince mean true? 1055
Will he vouchsafe to cease his former loues,
And yeeld the title of a countrie maid
Vnto Lord Lacie? Edward. I will, faire Peggie, as I am true lord. Marg. Then lordly sir, whose conquest is as great, 1060
In conquering loue, as Caesars victories,
Margret, as milde and humble in her thoughts
As was Aspatia vnto Cirus selfe,
Yeelds thanks, and, next lord Lacie, doth inshrine
Edward the second secret in her heart. 1065
Edw. Gramercie, Peggie, now that vowes are past,
And that your loues are not to be reuolt :
Once, Lacie, friendes againe, come, we will post
To Oxford, for this day the King is there,
And brings for Edivard Castile Ellinor. 1070
Peggie, I must go see and view my wife,
I pray God I like her as I loued thee.
Beside, lord Lincolne, we shall heare dispute
1039 Ts't (?3 leagues] loves? Q2 3 1040 om. Q2 3 1042 Peggie Ql
1044 rich (?3 1054 rich (?3 1056 cease] sease Ql 1063 Cyrus {'z 3
1064 Yeeld £>3 1067 to om. Q\ 3 revoult Q% 1070 Castile] Costly Qz
48 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act III
Twixt frier Bacoti and learned Vandermast.
Peggie, weele leaue you for a weeke or two. 1075
Margret. As it please lord Lacie : but loues foolish looks
Thinke footsteps Miles, and minutes to be houres. Lacie. He hasten, Peggie, to make short returne.
But please your honour goe vnto the lodge,
We shall haue butter, cheese, and venison. 1080
And yesterday I brought for Margret
A lustie bottle of neat clarret wine :
Thus can we feast and entertaine your grace. Edward. Tis cheere, lord Lacie, for an Emperour,
If he respect the person and the place : 1085
Come, let vs in ; for I will all this night
Ride post vntill I come to Bacons cell.
Exeunt.
(Scene II. At Oxford.)
Enter Henrie, Emperour, (Saxony), Castile, Ellinor, Vandermast, Bungay.
Emperour. Trust me, Plantagenet, these Oxford schooles
Are richly seated neere the riuer side :
The mountaines full of fat and fallow deere, 1090
The batling pastures laid with kine and flocks,
The towne gorgeous with high built colledges,
And schollers seemely in their graue attire,
Learned in searching principles of art.
What is thy iudgement, Laqnis Vandermast} 1095
Vandermast. That lordly are the buildings of the towne,
Spatious the romes and full of pleasant walkes :
But for the doctors, how that they be learned,
It may be meanly, for ought I can heere. Bungay. I tell thee, Germane, Haspurge holds none such, 11 00
None red so deepe as Oxenford containes.
There are within our accademicke state
Men that may lecture it in Germanie
To all the doctors of your Belgicke schools. Henrie. Stand to him, Bungay, charme this Vandermast, 1105
1074 Vandemaster Qi 1091 battling Qi 3 1094 the principles Qz
\OMJaquesQ2z 1100 Haspuge hold £3 1101 read Qi 13
1102 Academicke Q2 : academicke (2 3
Sell] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 49
And I will vse thee as a royall king. Vandermast. Wherein darest thou dispute with me ? Bungay. In what a Doctor and a Frier can. Vafidermast. Before rich Europes worthies put thou forth
The doubtfull question vnto Vandermast. 11 10
Bungay. Let it be this, whether the spirites of piromancie or
Geomancie, be most predominant in magick. Vander. I say, of Piromancie. Bungay. And I, of Geomancie. Vander. The cabbalists that wright of magicke spels, 11 15
As Hermes, Meichie, and Pithagoras,
Affirme that, mongst the quadruplicitie
Of elementall essence, Terra is but thought
To be a punctum squared to the rest :
And that the compasse of ascending eliments 11 20
Exceed in bignesse as they doe in height ;
Iudging the concaue circle of the sonne
To hold the rest in his circomference.
If then, as Hermes saies, the fire be greatst,
Purest, and onely giueth shapes to spirites, 1125
Then must these Demones that haunt that place
Be euery way superiour to the rest. Bungay. I reason not of elementall shapes,
Nor tell I of the concaue lattitudes,
Noting their essence nor their qualitie, 1130
But of the spirites that Piromancie calles,
And of the vigour of the Geomanticke fiends.
I tell thee, Germane, magicke haunts the grounds,
And those strange necromantick spels,
That worke such shewes and wondering in the world, 11 35
Are acted by those Geomanticke spirites
That Hermes calleth Terrae filii.
The fierie spirits are but transparant shades,
That lightly passe as Heralts to beare newes ;
But earthly fiends, closd in the lowest deepe, 1140
1112 Magicke? Q2 3 1115 write Q2 3 1116 Pythagoras Q23
1120 elements Q2 3 1122 sunne Q2 3 1123 circumference Q2 3
1126 hunt Qz 1129 latitudes (?2 3 1132 Geomaticke Q$
1133 hants Q2 3 ground Dyce and Ward 1134 Negromanticke Q2 3
1136 sprites Q2 1138 transparent Q2 3 113(J Heralds Qi 3 1110 cloz'd Q2 3
COLLINS. II E
50 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act III
Disseuer mountaines, if they be but chargd,
Being more grose and massie in their power. Vander. Rather these earthly geomantike spirits
Are dull, and like the place where they remaine :
For when proud Lucipher fell from the heauens, 1145
The spirites and angels that did sin with him
Retaind their locall essence, as their faults,
All subiect vnder Lunas Continent :
They which offended lesse hang in the fire,
And second faults did rest within the aire; 1150
But Lucifer and his proud hearted fiends
Were throwne into the center of the Earth,
Hauing lesse vnderstanding than the rest,
As hauing greater sinne, and lesser grace.
Therefore such grosse and earthly spirits doe serue 1155
For Iuglers, Witches, and vild Sorcerers ;
Whereas the Piromanticke Genii
Are mightie, swift, and of farre reaching power.
But graunt that Geomancie hath most force ;
Bungay, to please these mightie potentates, 1160
Prooue by some instance what thy art can doe. Bungay. I will. Einper. Now, English Harry, here begins the game ;
We shall see sport betweene these learned men. Vandermast. What wilt thou doe? 1165
Bung. Shew thee the tree, leaud with refined gold,
Whereon the fearefull dragon held his seate,
That watcht the garden cald Hesperides,
Subdued and wonne by conquering Hercules, Vandermast. Well done. 11 70
Heere Bungay coniures and the tree appeares with the dragon shooting
fire.
Henrie. What say you, royall lordings, to my frier?
Hath he not done a point of cunning skill ? Va?ider. Ech scholler in the Nicromanticke spels n 75
Can doe as much as Bungay hath performd.
But as Alcmenas basterd ras'd this tree,
1141 chargd] char'd Q2 3 1145 Lucifer Q2 3 114S subjects Qz 3
1149 hung Dyce and Ward 1157 Geniri Qx 1158 of] a £3
1164 lamed £3 1170 Dyce and Ward place after the S. D. 1173 Lord- lings Q2 3 1175 Negromanticke Q2 3 1177 Alcmers Q%
Sell] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 5r
So will I raise him vp as when he liued,
And cause him pull the Dragon from his seate,
And teare the branches peecemeale from the roote. ix3o
Hercules, Prodie ; Prodi Hercules !
Hercules appeares in his Lions Skin.
Hercules. Quis me vult?
Vandermast. Ioues bastard sonne, thou libian Hercules, Pull off the sprigs from off the Hesperian tree, As once thou didst to win the golden fruit. 1185
Hercules. Fiat.
Heere he begins to breake the branches.
Vander. Now, Bungay, if thou canst by magicke charme
The fiend, appearing like great Hercules,
From pulling downe the branches of the tree, 1190
Then art thou worthy to be counted learned. Bungay. I cannot. Vander. Cease, Hercules, vntill I giue thee charge.
Mightie commander of this English He,
Henrie, come from the stout Plantagenets, 1195
Bungay is learned enough to be a Frier.
But to compare with Iaquis Vandermast,
Oxford and Cambridge must go seeke their celles,
To find a man to match him in his art.
I haue giuen non-plus to the Padua ns, 1200
To them of Sien, Florence, and Bologna,
Reimes, Louain and faire Rotterdam,
Franckford, \Lutrech\ and Orleance :
And now must Henrie, if he do me right,
Crowne me with lawrell as they all haue done, 1205
Enter Bacon.
Bacon. All haile to this roiall companie,
That sit to heare and see this strange dispute : Bungay, how standest thou as a man amazd ? What, hath the Germane acted more than thou?
Vandermast. What art thou that questions thus? 12 w
1181 Prodie, Prodi Qi 1201 Belogna Q\ 1202 Rheims Qz :
Rheimes Qi Kotcrdam Qi 3 1203 LutrgcJi] Utrecht Dy.cc : Lutetia
Ward after Fleay Orlance Q$ 1210 questionst Qz 3 : question'st Dye, and Ward
E 2
5 2 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act III
Bacon. Men call me Bacon.
Vander. Lordly thou lookest, as if that thou wert learned ;
Thy countenance, as if science held her seate
Betweene the circled arches of thy browes. Henrie. Now, Monarcks, hath the Germain found his match. 1215 Emperour. Bestirre thee, laquis, take not now the foile,
Least thou doest loose what foretime thou didst gaine. Vandermast. Bacon, wilt thou dispute? Bacon. Noe, vnlesse he were more learned than Vandermast.
For yet, tell me, what hast thou done? 1220
Vandermast. Raisd Hercules to ruinate that tree,
That Bongay mounted by his magick spels. Bacon. Set Hercules to worke. Vandermast. Now, Hercules, I charge thee to thy taske ;
Pull off the golden branches from the roote. 1225
Hercules. I dare not; seest thou not great Bacon heere,
Whose frowne doth act more than thy magicke can ? Vandermast. By all the thrones and dominations,
Vertues, powers and mightie Herarchies,
I charge thee to obey to Vandermast. 1230
Hercules. Bacon, that bridles headstrong Belcephoti,
And rules Asmenot/i, guider of the North,
Bindes me from yeelding vnto Vandermast. Hen. How now, Vandermast ! haue you met with your
match ? Vandermast. Neuer before wast knowne to Vandermast 1235
That men held deuils in such obedient awe,
Bacon doth more than art, or els I faile. Emperour. Why, Vandermast, art then ouercome?
Bacon, dispute with him, and trie his skill. Bacon. I come not, Monarckes, for to hold dispute 1240
With such a nouice as is Vandermast;
I come to haue your royalties to dine
With Frier Bacon heere in Brazennose ;
And, for this Germane troubles but the place,
And holds this audience with a long suspence, 1245
lie send him to his Accademie hence.
1217 Lest . . . lose Q2 3 1222 Bongay Q\ 1229 Hierarchies Q$
1231 Behephon Q2 : belzephon Qi 1232 Asmenothe Ql 1240, 1242
came Dyce and Ward
Sell] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY
Thou Hercules, whom Vandermast did raise,
Transport the Germane vnto Haspurge straight,
That he may learne by trauaile, gainst the spring,
More secret doomes and Aphorismes of art. 125c
Vanish the Tree, and thou away with him !
Exit the Spirit with Vandermast and the Tree.
Emperour. Why, Bacon, whether doest thou send him ? Bacon. To Haspurge : there your highnesse at returne
Shall finde the Germane in his studie safe. Henrie. Bacon, thou hast honoured England with thy skill, 1255
And made faire Oxford famous by thine art :
I will be English Henrie to thy selfe.
But tell me, shall we dine with thee to day? Bacon. With me, my Lord ; and while I fit my cheere,
See where Prince Edward comes to welcome you, 1260
Gratious as the morning starre of heauen.
Exit. Enter Edward, Lacie, Warren, Ermsbie.
Emperour. Is this Prince Edtvard, Henries royall sonne, How martiall is the figure of his face, Yet louely and beset with Amorets. Henrie. Ned, where hast thou been? 1265
Edward. At Framhigham, my Lord, to trie your buckes, If they could scape the teisers or the toile : But hearing of these lordly Potentates Landed, and prograst vp to Oxford towne, I posted to giue entertaine to them : 1270
Chiefe to the Almaine Monarke, next to him, And ioynt with him, Castile and Saxonie Are welcome as they may be to the English Court. Thus for the men : but see, Venus appeares, Or one that ouermatcheth Venus in her shape. 1275
Sweete Ellinor, beauties high swelling pride, Rich natures glorie, and her wealth at once : Faire of all faires, welcome to Albion, Welcome to me, and welcome to thine owne,
1249 trauell Q2 3 spring Dyce and Ward: springs Qq 1252 whither (72 3 1261 as is Ward 1267 they teisers Qi " 1269 progrest Qi 3
1274, 1275 Vents Q$ 1276 beauty (2 3
S4 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act III
If that thou dainst the welcome from my selfe. 12S0
Ellinor. Martiall Plantagenet, Henries high minded sonne,
The marke that Ellinor did count her aime,
I likte thee fore I saw thee : now I loue,
And so as in so short a time I may :
Yet so as time shall neuer breake that so : 1285
And therefore so accept of Ellinor. Castile. Feare not, my Lord, this couple will agree,
If loue may creepe into their wanton eyes :
And therefore, Edzvard, I accept thee heere,
Without suspence, as my adopted sonne. 1290
Henrie. Let me that ioy in these consorting greets,
And glorie in these honors done to Ned,
Yeeld thankes for all these fauours to my sonne,
And rest a true Plantagenet to all.
Enter Miles with a cloth and trenchers and salt.
Miles. Saluete omnes reges, that gouerne your Greges, in 1295 Saxonie and Sfiaine, in England, and in Almaine : for all this frolicke rable must I couer the table, with trenchers, salt and cloth, and then looke for your broth.
Emperonr. What pleasant fellow is this? 1300
Henrie. Tis, my lord, doctor Bacons poore scholler.
Miles. My maister hath made me sewer of these great lords, and God knowes I am as seruiceable at a table as a sow is vnder an apple tree : tis no matter, their cheere shall not be great, and 1305 therefore what skils where the salt stand, before or behinde?
Castile. These schollers knowes more skill in actiomes, How to vse quips and sleights of Sophistrie, Than for to couer courtly for a king. 1310
Enter Miles with a messe of pottage and broth, and after him Bacon.
.Miles. Spill, sir? why, doe you thinke I neuer carried twopeny chop before in my life? by your leaue, Nobile
1281 Heneris Qz 1283 lik't Q2 3 1284 a om. Qz 1293 these]
those (23 1296 and in] in om. Qz 1297 thee Q\ 1299 your]
yont (?3 1308 knowes] know Qz 3, Dyce, Ward Axiomes Qz : Axomies Qz 1312 Noble Qz
Sell] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 55
decus, for here comes doctor Bacons pecus, being in his
full age, to carrie a messe of pottage. Bacon. Lordings, admire not if your cheere be this, 13 15
For we must keepe our Accademicke fare ;
No riot where Philosophic doth raine :
And therefore, Henrie, place these Potentates,
And bid them fall vnto their frugall cates. Emperour. Presumptuous Frier! what, scoffst thou at a king? 1320
What, doest thou taunt vs with thy pesants fare,
And giue vs cates fit for countrey swaines?
Henrie, proceeds this iest of thy consent,
To twit vs with such a pittance of such price,
Tell me, and Fredericke will not greeue the long. 1325
Henrie. By Henries honour, and the royall faith
The English Monarcke beareth to his friend,
I knew not of the friers feeble fare,
Nor am I pleasd he entertaines you thus. Bacon. Content thee, Fredericke, for I shewd the cates 1330
To let thee see how schollers vse to feede,
How little meate refines our English wits ;
Miles, take away, and let it be thy dinner. Miles. Marry, Sir, I wil. This day shal be a festiual day
with me, 1335
For I shall exceed in the highest degree.
Exit Miles.
Bacon. I tell thee, Monarch, all the Germane Peeres Could not affoord thy entertainment such, So royall and so full of Maiestie,
As Bacon will present to Fredericke. 1340
The Basest waiter that attends thy cups Shall be in honours greater than thy selfe And for thy cates rich Alexandria drugges, Fetcht by Carueils from Aegypts richest straights, Found in the wealthy strond of Africa, 1345
Shall royallize the table of my King ; Wines richer than thEgyptian courtisan
1315 Lordling? Q2 3 1317 raigne Q2 3 1321 peazants Qz 3
1324 such a pittance] such om. Dycc : a 0111. Ward 1330 the cates] thee
cates Qi : thee cats £3 1339 so full] so em. (?3 1343 thy] the £>3 1347 th' Egyptian Dyce : the Gyptian Qi : Gyprian Qi 3
t COLLINS
56 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act III
Quaft to Augustus kingly countermatch,
Shal be carrowst in English Henries feasts :
Candie shall yeeld the richest of her canes; 1350
Persia, downe her Volga by Canows,
Send down the secrets of her spicerie ;
The Africke Dates, mirabiles of Spaine,
Conserues, and Suckets from Tiberias,
Cates from ludea, choiser than the lampe 1355
That fiered Rome with sparkes of gluttonie,
Shall bewtifie the board for Fredericke :
And therefore grudge not at a friers feast.
(Scene III. At Fressingfield.) Enter two gentlemen, Lambert and Serlby with the Keeper.
Lambert. Come, frolicke keeper of our lieges game,
Whose table spred hath euer venison 1360
And Licks of wines to welcome passengers,
Know I am in loue with iolly Margret,
That ouer-shines our damsels, as the Moone
Darkneth the brightest sparkles of the night.
In Laxfield heere my land and liuing lies : 1365
He make thy daughter ioynter of it all,
So thou consent to giue her to my wife ;
And I can spend fiue hundreth markes a yeare. Serlbie. I am the lanslord, keeper, of thy holds,
By coppie all thy liuing lies in me ; 1370
Laxfield did neuer see me raise my due.
I will infeofe faire Margret in all,
So she will take her to a lustie squire. Keeper. Now, courteous gentls, if the Keepers girle
Hath pleased the liking fancie of you both, 1375
And with her beutie hath subdued your thoughts,
Tis doubtfull to decide the question.
It ioyes me that such men of great esteeme
Should lay their liking on this base estate,
And that her state should grow so fortunate, 1380
To be a wife to meaner men than you.
1349 feast Q3, Dyce, Ward 1350 Candy Q2 3 1351 volga Qq
1353 mirabolans Dyce and Ward 1369 Lands-lord Q2 3 1372 infeoffe
<?2 3
Sc. Ill] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 57
But sith such squires will stoop to keepers fee,
I will, to auoid displeasure of you both,
Call Margret forth, and she shall make her choise.
Exit. Lambert. Content, Keeper; send her vnto vs. 1385
Why, Serlsby, is thy wife so lately dead,
Are all thy loues so lightly passed ouer,
As thou canst wed before the yeare be out ? Serlsby. I Hue not, Lambert, to content the dead,
Nor was I wedded but for life to her : 1390
The graue ends and begins a maried state.
Enter Margret. Lambert. Peggie, the louelie flower of hll townes,
Suffo/ks faire Hellen, and rich Englands star,
Whose beautie, tempered with her huswifrie,
Maks England talke of merry FrisingfiehP. 1395
Serlsby. I cannot tricke it vp with poesies,
Nor paint my passions with comparisons,
Nor tell a tale of Phebus and his loues :
But this beleue me : Laxfield here is mine,
Of auncient rent seuen hundred pounds a yeare ; 1400
And if thou canst but loue a countrie squire,
I will infeoffe thee, Margret, in all :
I can not flatter; trie me, if thou please. Mar. Braue neighbouring squires, the stay of Si/ffolks clime,
A keepers daughter is too base in grec 1405
To match with men accoumpted of such worth :
But might I not displease, I would reply. Lambert. Say, Peggy; nought shall make vs discontent. Marg. Then, gentils, note that loue hath little stay,
Nor can the flames that Venus sets on fire 14 10
Be kindled but by fancies motion.
Then pardon, gentils, if a maids reply
Be doubtful, while I haue debated with my selfe,
Who, or of whome, loue shall constraine me like. Serlsbie. Let it be me; and trust me, Margret, 1415
The meads inuironed with the siluer streames,
1383 t' auovd Q2 : t'auoide Q5 1391 graues Qi 1392 flowers (0_>
1396 poisies £3 1398 Phoebus Qi 3 1405 daughters £1 3
1409 gentiles Q2 3 1410 set Qz
58 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act III
Whose Batling pastures fatneth all my flockes,
Yelding forth fleeces stapled with such woole,
As Lempstcr cannot yelde more finer stuffe ;
And fortie kine with faire and burnisht heads, 1420
With strouting duggs that paggle to the ground,
Shall serue thy dary, if thou wed with me. Lambert. Let passe the countrie wealth, as flocks & kine,
And lands that waue with Ceres golden sheues,
Filling my barnes with plentie of the fieldes : 1425
But, Peggie, if thou wed thy selfe to me,
Thou shalt haue garments of Imbrodred silke,
Lawnes and rich networks for thy head attyre :
Costlie shal be thy fare abiliments,
If thou wilt be but Lamberts louing wife. 1430
Margret. Content you, gentles, you haue profered faire,
And more than fits a countrie Maids degree :
But giue me leaue to counsaile me a time,
For fancie bloomes not at the first assault ;
Giue me but ten dayes respite, and I will replye 1435
Which or to whom my selfe affectionats. Serlsby. Lambert, I tell thee thou art importunate ;
Such beautie fits not such a base esquire.
It is for Serlsby to haue Margret. Lamb. Thinkst thou with wealth to ouer reach me? 1440
Serlsby, I scorne to brooke thy country braues :
I dare thee, Coward, to maintaine this wrong,
At dint of rapier, single in the field. Serlsby. He aunswere, Lambert, what I haue auoucht.
Margret, farewel, another time shall serue. 1445
Exit Serlsby.
Lambert. He follow. Peggie, farewell to thy selfe ;
Listen how well ile answer for thy loue.
Exit Lambert.
Margeret. How Fortune tempers lucky happes with frowns,
And wrongs me with the sweets of my delight !
Loue is my blisse, and loue is now my bale. 1450
Shall I be Hellen in my forward fates,
1417 battling Q2 3 fatten Q2 3 1421 puggle Q2 3 1425 filling Qi 1426 peggie Qi 1428 net-worke (?3 1420 faire habilliments Q2 3
1438 a base om. £3 1447 List (23 1451 froward Dyce and Ward
Sc. Ill] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 59
As I am Hellen in my matchless hue,
And set rich Suffolke with my face afire?
If louely Lacie were but with his Peggy,
The cloudie darckenesse of his bitter frowne 1455
Would check the pride of these aspiring squires.
Before the terme of ten dayes be expired,
When as they looke for answere of their loues,
My Lord will come to merry Fresingfield,
And end their fancies, and their follies both; 1460
Til when, Peggie, be blith and of good cheere !
Enter a Post with a letter and a bag of gold.
Post. Fair louely damsell, which way leads this path ? How might I post me vnto Fresingfield} Which footpath leadeth to the keepers lodge?
Margeret. Your way is ready, and this path is right ; 1465
My selfe doe dwell hereby in Fresingfie/d : And if the keeper be the man you seeke, I am his daughter : may I know the cause ?
Post. Louely, and once beloued of my lord,
No meruaile if his eye was lodgd so low, 1470
When brighter bewtie is not in the heauens. The Lincolne earle hath sent you letters here, And, with them, iust an hundred pounds in gold. Sweete, bonny wench, read them, and make reply.
Margret. The scrowles that loue sent Danae, 1475
Wrapt in rich closures of fine burnisht gold, Were not more welcome than these lines to me. Tell me, whilst that I doe vnrip the seales, Liues Lacie well, how fares my louely Lord ?
Post. Well, if that wealth may make men to hue well. 1480
The letter, and Margret reads it.
The bloomes of the Almond tree grow in a night, and vanish in a morne ; the flies Haemera (faire Peggie) take life with the Sun, and die with the dew ; fancie that slippeth in with a gase, goeth out with a winke ; and too timely loues
1454 his] the Q$ 1456 these] those Ward 1457 terme] time Q%
1461 blithe Qi 3 S. D. Poast Q2 3 1463 me om. Q3 1466 hereby]
hard by £3 1471 brighter] bright Qi 1476 Wrapt] Wrap Q$
1482 Haemerae Q2 3 : Meniere 21 1484 gaze Q2 3
60 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act III
haue euer the shortest length. I write this as thy grefe, and 14S5 my folly, who at Fresingfield loud that which time hath taught me to be but meane dainties : eyes are dissemblers, and fancie is but queasie ; therefore know, Margret, I haue chosen a Spanish Ladie to be my wife, cheefe waighting woman to the Princesse Ellinour ; a Lady faire, and no 1490 lesse faire than thy selfe, honorable and wealthy. In that I forsake thee I leaue thee to thine own liking ; and for thy dowrie I haue sent thee an hundred pounds ; and euer assure thee of my fauour, which shall auaile thee and thine much. Farewell.
Not thine, nor his owne, 1495
Edward Lade. Fond Atae, doomer of bad boading fates, That wrappes proud Fortune in thy snaky locks, Didst thou inchaunt my byrth-day with such stars As lightned mischeefe from their infancie? 1500
If heauens had vowed, if stars had made decree, To shew on me their froward influence, If Lacie had but lovd, heauens, hell, and all Could not haue wrongd the patience of my minde.
Post. It grieues me, damsell ; but the Earle is forst 1505
To loue the Lady by the Kings commaund.
Margret. The wealth combinde within the English shelues, Europes commaunder, nor the English King, Should not haue moude the loue of Peggie from her Lord.
Post. What answere shall I returne to my Lord? 1510
Margret. First, for thou camst from Lacie whom I loud — Ah, giue me leaue to sigh at euery thought ! Take thou, my freind, the hundred pound he sent, For Margrets resolution craues no dower. The world shal be to her as vanitie, 15 15
Wealth, trash ; loue, hate ; pleasure, dispaire : For I will straight to stately Eremingha?>i, And in the abby there be shorne a Nun, And yeld my loues and libertie to God. Fellow, I giue thee this, not for the newes, 1520
1485 wright Qi 1488 quasie £>3 1489 chose Q$ 1492 forsooke Qz 1496 boading] boasting Q2 3 1501 had vowed] hath vowed Q$ 1502 on] in Q2 3 1508 Commander Qi 3 1512 euery] very Dyce and Ward
Sc. Ill] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 6r
For those be hatefull vnto Margret,
But for thart Lacies man, once Margrets loue.
Post. What I haue heard, what passions I haue seene,
lie make report of them vnto the Earle.
Exit Post.
Margret. Say that she ioyes his fancies be at rest, 1525
And praies that his misfortune may be hers.
Exit.
ACT IV.
(Scene I. Friar Bacoris Cell.}
Enter Frier Bacon drawing the courtaines, with a white sticke, a booke in his hand, and a lamfie lighted by him, and the brasen head and Miles, with weapons by him.
Bacon. Miles, where are you ? 1530
Miles. Here, sir.
Bacon. How chaunce you tarry so long ?
Miles. Thinke you that the watching of the brazen head
craues no furniture ? I warrant you, sir, I haue so armed my
selfe, that, if all your deuills come, I will not feare them 1535
an inch. Bacon. Miles, thou knowest that I haue diued into hell,
And sought the darkest pallaces of fiendes ;
That with my magick spels great Belcephon
Hath left his lodge and kneeled at my cell; 1540
The rafters of the earth rent from the poles,
And three-formd Luna hid her siluer looks,
Trembling vpon her concaue contenent,
When Bacon red vpon his Magick booke.
With seuen yeares tossing nigromanticke charmes, 1545
Poring vpon darke Hecats principles,
I haue framd out a monstrous head of brasse,
That, by the inchaunting forces of the deuil,
Shall tell out strange and vncoth Aphorismes,
And girt faire England with a wall of brasse. 1550
Bungay and I haue watcht these three score dayes,
And now our vitall Spirites craue some rest.
1526 misfortunes Q2 3 S. D. whith weapons Qi 1535 doe come Q2 3
1537 knowst Q2 3 1538 of the Fiends £3 1539 Belzephon Qi 3
1543 continent Q2 3 1545 With] When Q$ 1548 th' inchanting Q2 3
62 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act IV
If Argos liud and had his hundred eyes, They could not ouerwatch Phobeters night. Now, Miles, in thee rests Frier Bacons weale : 1555
The honour and renowne of all his life Hangs in the watching of this brazen-head ; Therefore I charge thee by the immortall God That holds the soules of men within his fist, This night thou watch, for ere the morning star 1560
Sends out his glorious glister on the north, The head will speake : then, Miles, vpon thy life, Wake me ; for then by Magick art He worke, To end my seuen yeares taske with excellence. If that a winke but shut thy watchfull eye, 1565
' Then farewell Bacons glory and his fame !
Draw closse the courtaines, Miles : now for thy life, Be watchfull and —
Here hefalleth asleepe.
Miles. So ; I thought you would talke your selfe asleepe anon,
and tis no meruaile, for Bungay on the dayes, and he on 1570
the nights, haue watcht iust these ten and fifty dayes : now
this is the night, and tis my taske, and no more. Now,
Iesus blesse me, what a goodly head it is, and a nose !
you talke of nos autem glorificare, but heres a nose that
I warrant may be cald nos autem popelare for the people 1575
of the parish. Well, I am furnished with weapons : now,
sir, I will set me downe by a post, and make it as good
as a watch-man to wake me, if I chaunce to slumber.
I thought, goodman head, I would call you out of your
memento . . . Passion a God, I haue almost broke my 15S0
pate ! vp, Miles, to your taske, take your browne bill in
your hand ; heeres some of your maisters hobgoblins
abroad.
With this a great noise.
The Head speakes. Head. Time is.
Miles. Time is ! why, maister Brazenhead, haue you such a 1585
1565 awinke Q\ 2 1567 Close the curtaines Q2 3 S. D. falls (?3
1575 popelares £>2 3 1579 I thought, that Q$ 1580 Lacuna of two
or three words after memento in Qi : ion and your add. Qi in marg. : mori and your — sugg.J. C. Smith
Sc.I] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 6?
v-)
capitall nose, and answer you with sillables, ' Time is ? ' is this all my maisters cunning, to spend seuen yeares studie about 'Time is'? Well sir, it may be we shall haue some better orations of it anon : well He watch you as narrowly as euer you were watcht, and He play with you as the 1590 Nightingale with the Slowworme, He set a pricke against my brest : now rest there, Miles ; — Lord haue mercy vpon me, I haue almost kild my selfe : vp, Miles, list how they rumble. Head. Time was. 1595
Miles. Well, Frier Bacon, you spent your seuen yeares studie well that can make your Head speake but two wordes at once. ' Time was ' : yea, marie, time was when my maister was a wise man, but that was before he began to make the Brasen-head ; you shall lie while your arce ake and your 1600 Head speake no better : well I will watch and walke vp and downe, and be a Perepatetian and a Philosopher oi Aristotle s stampe. What, a freshe noise? Take thy pistols in hand, Miles.
Heere the Head speakes and a lightning Jiasheth forth, and a hand appeares that b?-eaketh down the Head with a hammer.
Head. Time is past.
Miles. Maister, maister, vp ! hels broken loose; your Head 1605
speakes, and theres such a thunder and lightning, that
I warrant all Oxford is vp in armes. Out of your bed, and
take a browne bill in your hand ; the latter day is come. Bacon. Miles ; I come, oh, passing warily watcht !
Bacon will make thee next himselfe in loue. 1610
When spake the Head ? Miles. When spake the Head ! did not you say that hee should
tell strange principles of Philosophic ? Why, sir, it speaks
but two wordes at a time. Bacon. Why, villaine, hath it spoken oft? 161 5
Miles. Oft ! I, marie, hath it ! thrice : but in all those three
times it hath vttered but seuen wordes. Bacon. As how? Miles. Marrie, sir, the first time he said, 'Time is,' as if
1589 better om. Q2 3 1590 were] was Qi 15L>6 you haue spent £3.
Dyce, Ward 1002 Peiipatetian Qz 3 1606 thundring £3
1613 spoke Qi
64 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act IV
Fabius cumentator should haue pronounst a sentence; he 1620
said ' Time was ' ; and the third time with thunder and
lightning, as in great choller, he said ' Time is past.' Bacon. Tis past indeed. A, villaine, time is past,
My life, my fame, my glorie, all are past :
Bacon, the turrets of thy hope are ruind downe, 1625
Thy seuen yeares studie lieth in the dust,
Thy Brazen-head lies broken through a slaue
That watcht, and would not when the Head did will.
What said the Head first? Miles. Euen, sir, 'Time is.' 1630
Bacon. Villaine, if thou hadst cald to Bacon then,
If thou hadst watcht, and wakte the sleepie frier,
The Brazen-head had vttered Aphorismes,
And England had been circled round with brasse :
But proud Asmenoth ruler of the North, 1635
And Demogorgon maister of the fates,
Grudge that a mortall man should worke so much.
Hell trembled at my deepe commanding spels,
Fiendes frownd to see a man their ouermatchj
Bacon might bost more than a man might boast: 1640
But now the braues of Bacon hath an end,
Europes conceit of Bacon hath an end,
His seuen yeares practise sorteth to ill end :
And, villaine, sith my glorie hath an end,
I will appoint thee fatall to some end. 1645
Villaine, auoid ! get thee from Bacons sight !
Vagrant, go rome and range about the world,
And perish as a vagabond on earth. Miles. Why, then, sir, you forbid me your seruice? Bacon. My seruice, villaine, with a fatall curse, 1650
That direfull plagues and mischiefe fall on thee. Miles. Tis no matter, I am against you with the old prouerb,
' The more the fox is curst the better he fares' : God be with you, sir ; He take but a booke in my hand, a wide sleeued
1620 Commentator Q2 3 sentance £3 [the second time add. Dyce and
Ward 1621 thundring Q3 1625 turrets of thy] terrours of my Q$
1630 sir om. Q2 3 1635 Asmenoth Dyce: Astmcroth Qq (cf. 1232)
1636 Demegorgon Qq maister] ruler Eng. Parnass. 1637 worke] doe Q2 1641 hath] haue Q$ 1645 to some fatal end Dyce and Ward 1647 range] rage Qi
Sc.I] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 65
gowne on my backe, and a crowned cap on my head, and see 1655 if I can want promotion. Bacon. Some fiend or ghost haunt on thy wearie steps, Vntill they doe transport thee quicke to hell : For Bacon shall haue neuer merrie day, To loose the fame and honour of his Head. 1660
Exit.
(Scene II. At Court.)
Enter Emperour, (Saxony), Castile, Henrie, Ellinor, Edward, Lacie,
Raphe.
Emper. Now, louely Prince, the prime of Albions wealth,
How fares the ladie Ellinor and you ?
What, haue you courted and found Castile fit
To answer England in equiuolence ?
Wilt be a match twixt bonny Nell and thee? 1665
Edw. Should Paris enter in the Courts of Greece,
And not lie fettered in faire Hellens lookes?
Or Phoebus scape those piercing amorits
That Daphne glaunsed at his deitie?
Can Edward, then, sit by a flame and freeze, 1670
Whose heat puts Hellen and faire Daphne downe?
Now, Monarcks, aske the ladie if we gree. Hen. What, madam, hath my son found grace or no? Ellinor. Seeing, my lord, his louely counterfeit,
And hearing how his minde and shape agreed, 1675
I come not, troopt with all this warlike traine,
Doubting of loue, but so effectionat
As Edward hath in England what he wonne in Spaine. Castile. A match, my lord; these wantons needes must loue :
Men must haue wiues, and women will be wed; 1680
Lets hast the day to honour vp the rites. Raphe. Sirha Harry, shall Ned marry Nell? Henry. I, Raphe, how then? Raphe. Marrie, Harrie, follow my counsaile : send for frier
Bacon to marrie them, for heele so coniure him and her 1685
with his Nigromancie, that they shall loue togither like
pigge and lambe whilest they Hue.
1660 lose Qi 3 1661 prime Dyce : prince Qq 1662 fare Dyce and Ward 1676 came Dyce and Ward 1677 affectionate Q2 3 1680 will] must (?3 1681 haste (?2
COLLINS. II F
66 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act IV
Castile. But hearst thou, Raphe, art thou content to haue
Ellinor to thy ladie? Raphe. I, so she will promise me two things. 1690
Castile. Whats that, Raphe} Raphe. That shee will neuer scold with Ned nor fight with
me. Sirha Harry, I haue put her downe with a thing
vnpossible. Henry. Whats that, Raphe ? 1695
Raphe. Why, Harrie, didst thou euer see that a woman could
both hold her tongue and her handes ? No ! but when
egge-pies growes on apple-trees, then will thy gray mare
prooue a bag-piper. Emperour. What saies the lord of Castile and the Earleofi7oo
Lincolne, that they are in such earnest and secret talke ? Castile. I stand, my lord, amazed at his talke,
How he discourseth of the constancie
Of one surnam'd, for beauties excellence,
The faire maid of merrie Fresingfield. 1705
Henrie. Tis true, my Lord, tis wondrous for to heare ;
Her beautie passing Marces parramour,
Her virgins right as rich as Vestas was.
Lacie and Ned hath told me Miracles. Castile. What saies lord Lacie? shall she be his wife? 1710 Lacie. Or els lord Lacie is vnfit to liue.
May it please your highnesse giue me leaue to post
To Fresingfield, He fetch the bonny girle,
And prooue in true apparance at the court
What I haue vouched often with my tongue. 17 15
ILenrie. Lacie, go to the quirie of my stable,
And take such coursers as shall fit thy turne :
Hie thee to Fresingfield, and bring home the lasse,
And, for her fame flies through the English coast,
If it may please the ladie Ellinor, 1720
One day shall match your excellence and her. Ellinor. We Castile ladies are not very coy ;
Your highnesse may command a greater boone :
And glad were I to grace the Lincolne earle
1608 grow (23, Dyce, Ward 1700 say Dyce 1704 beauties]
beautious Q$ 1705 merrie om. Qi 3 1707 A/arses Q2 3
1703 haue Q2, Dyce
Sell] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 67
With being partner of his marriage day. 1725
Edward. Gramercie, Nell, for I do loue the lord,
As he thats second to my selfe in loue. Raphe. You loue her. Madam Nell, neuer beleeue him you,
though he sweares he loues you. Ellinor. Why, Raphe ? 1 730
Raphe. Why, his loue is like vnto a tapsters glasse that is
broken with euery tutch ; for he loued the faire maid
of Fresingfield once out of all hoe. Nay, Ned, neuer
wincke vpon me; I care not, I. Hen. Raphe tels all ; you shall haue a good secretarie of him. 1735
But, Lacie, haste thee post to Fresingfield ;
For ere thou hast fitted all things for her state,
The solemne marriage day will be at hand.
Lacie. I go, my lord.
Exit Lacie.
Emperour. How shall we passe this day, my lord? 1740
Henrie. To horse, my lord ; the day is passing faire,
Weele flie the partridge, or go rouse the deere ;
Follow, my lords; you shall not want for sport.
Exeunt.
(Scene III. Friar Bacon's Cell.) Enter frier Bacon with frier Bungay to his cell.
Bungay. What meanes the frier that frolickt it of late, [To sit as melancholie in his cell]: 1745
To sit as melancholie in his cell, As if he had neither lost nor wonne to day?
Bacon. Ah, Bungay, my Brazen-head is spoild, My glorie gone, my seuen yeares studie lost : The fame of Bacon, bruted through the world, 1750
Shall end and perish with this deepe disgrace.
Bungay. Bacon hath built foundation of his fame So surely on the wings of true report, With acting strange and vncoth miracles,
1726 Gramarcy @3 17*27 my selfe] thyself Dyce and Ward 1728 her? (?2 3, Dyce, Ward 1732 broke Qi 1743 my Lord Q$ 1745 om.
Q2 3, Dyce, Ward 1748 Ah, Bungay, ah, Ward after Dyce spold
Qi : spoil'd Q2: spoiled £3 1752 of Dyce : on Qq 1754 and om. Q$
F 2
68 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act IV
As this cannot infringe what he deserues. 1755
Bacon. Bungay, sit down, for by prospectiue skill,
I find this day shall fall out ominous :
Some deadly act shall tide me ere I sleep :
But what and wherein little can I gesse. Bungay. My minde is heauy, what so ere shall hap. 1760
Enter two Schollers, sonnes to Lambert and Serlby.
Knocke.
Bacon. Whose that knockes?
Bungay. Two schollers that desires to speake with you. Bac. Bid the come in. Now, my youths, what would you haue ?
1 Scholler. Sir, we are Suffolke men and neighbouring friends,
Our fathers in their countries lustie squires; 1765
Their lands adioyne : in Crackfield mine doth dwell, And his in Laxfield. We are colledge mates, Sworne brothers as our fathers hues as friendes. Bacon. To what end is all this ?
2 Scholler. Hearing your worship kept within your cell 1770 A glasse prospectiue, wherein men might see
What so their thoughts or hearts desire could wish, We come to know how that our fathers fare.
Bacon. My glasse is free for euery honest man.
Sit downe and you shall see ere long, 1775
How or in what state your friendly fathers hues. Meane while tell me your names.
Lambert. Mine Lambert.
2 Scholler. And mine Serlsbie.
Bacon. Bungay, I smell there will be a tragedie. 1780
Enter Lambert and Serlsbie, with Rapiers and daggers.
Lambert. Serlsby, thou hast kept thine houre like a man : Th'art worthie of the title of a squire, That durst, for proofe of thy affection, And for thy mistresse fauour, prize thy bloud. Thou knowst what words did passe at Fresingfield, 1785
1758 betide Q2 3 1760 Grosart and Ward assign to Bacon My minde]
Mine Qi 1761 Who's Q2 3 1762 desire Q2 3, Dyce, Ward 1768 line Q2, Dyce, Ward 1775, 1776 ere long, how Or Dyce: ere long, sirs, how Or sugg. Dyce 1776 father Hues Qi : fathers line (?3, Dyce, Ward 1781
houre] honour Qi 1783 approofe £3 1784 blood Q2 3
Sc. Ill] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 69
Such shamelesse braues as manhood cannot brooke :
I, for I skorne to beare such piercing taunts,
Prepare thee, Serlsbie ; one of vs will die. Serlsbie. Thou seest I single (meet) thee (in) the field,
And what I spake, He maintaine with my sword: 1790
Stand on thy guard, I cannot scold it out.
And if thou kill me, thinke I haue a sonne,
That hues in Oxford in the Brodgates hall,
Who will reuenge his fathers bloud with bloud. Lambert. And, Serlsbie, I haue there a lusty boy, 1795
That dares at weapon buckle with thy sonne,
And hues in Broadgates too, as well as thine ;
But draw thy Rapier, for weele haue a bout. Bacon. Now, lustie yonkers, looke within the glasse,
And tell me if you can discerne your sires. 1800
1 Schol. Serlsbie, tis hard ; thy father offers wrong, To combat with my father in the field.
2 Schol. Lambert, thou liest, my fathers is the abuse, And thou shalt find it, if my father harme.
Bungay. How goes it, sirs? 1805
i Scholler. Our fathers are in combat hard by Fresingfield. Bacon. Sit still, my friendes, and see the euent. Lambert. Why standst thou, Serlsbie ? doubtst thou of thy life ?
A venie, man ! faire Margret craues so much. Serlsbie. Then this for her. 1810
1 Scholler. Ah, well thrust !
2 Scholler. But marke the ward.
They fight and kill ech other.
Lambert. Oh, I am slaine !
Serlsbie. And I, Lord haue mercie on me !
1 Scholler. My father slaine! Serlby, ward that. 1815
The two schollers stab on another.
2 Scholler. And so is mine ! Lambert, He quite thee well. Bungay. O strange strattagem !
Bacon. See, Frier, where the fathers both lie dead.
1789 I single thee the field Qq : con: Dyce 1790 speak Qi
1796 thy] my Q$ 1798 about Qi 1803 my father is abuse Qi
1804 harme] haue harme Qi : haue harm Ward 1809 veny Q2 : vaine Qi
so om. Qi 1815 S. D. placed after 1816 by Dyce and Ward en] ech Qi
1817 stratagem Qi 1818 both] doth Q
70 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Act IV, Sc. Ill
Bacon, thy magicke doth effect this massacre : This glasse prospectiue worketh manie woes; 1820
And therefore seeing these braue lustie Brutes, These friendly youths, did perish by thine art, End all thy magicke and thine art at once. The poniard that did end the fatall liues, Shall breake the cause efficient of their woes. 1825
So fade the glasse, and end with it the showes, That Nigromancie did infuse the christall with.
He breakes the glasse.
Bung. What means learned Bacon thus to breake his glasse ?
Bacon. I tell thee, Bungay, it repents me sore
That euer Bacon medled in this art. 1830
The houres I haue spent in piromanticke spels,
The fearefull tossing in the latest night
Of papers full of Nigromanticke charmes,
Coniuring and adiuring diuels and fiends,
With stole and albe and strange Pentageron ; 1835
The wresting of the holy name of God,
As Sother, Elaim, and Adonaie,
Alpha, Manoth, and Tetragramiton,
With praying to the fiue-fould powers of heauen,
Are instances that Bacon must be damde, 1840
For vsing diuels to counteruaile his God.
Yet, Bacon, cheere thee, drowne not in despaire :
Sinnes haue their salues, repentance can do much,
Thinke mercie sits where Iustice holds her seate,
And from those wounds those bloudie Ieivs did pierce, 1845
Which by thy magicke oft did bleed a fresh,
From thence for thee the dew of mercy drops,
To wash the wrath of hie Iehouahs ire,
And make thee as a new borne babe from sinne.
Bungay, He spend the remnant of my life 1S50
In pure deuotion, praying to my God,
That he would saue what Bacon vainly lost. _ .
Exit.
1820 worketh] works Qi 1821 braue om. £23: brutes Qi
1824 ponard Q$ the] their Dyce and Ward 1825 efiiciat Qq woes]
vowes (?3 1834 Friends Qi 1835 strange] strong Dyce and Ward
Pentaganon Qi 2 : Pantaganon Qi : corr. Dyce 1837 Elvim and
Adonai (?2 3 1838 Tetrngrammaton 02 3 1S40 instant Qi damn'd Qi 3 1841 vsing] vising Qi his] with Q 3 1849 thee] the Qi
ActV,Sc.I] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 71
ACT V.
{Scene I. At Frts sing field.)
Enter Margret in Nuns apparrell, Keeper, her father, and their friend.
Keep. Margret, be not so headstrong in these vows :
Oh, burie not such beautie in a cell,
That England hath held famous for the hue! 1855
Thy fathers haire, like to the siluer bloomes
That beautifie the shrubs of Africa,
Shall fall before the dated time of death,
Thus to forgoe his louely Margret. Margret. A, father, when the hermonie of heauen j§6c
Soundeth the measures of a liuely faith,
The vaine Illusions of this flattering world
Seemes odious to the thoughts of Margret.
I loued once, Lord Lade was my loue;
And now I hate my selfe for that I lovd, 1S65
And doated more on him than on my God.
For this I scourge my selfe with sharpe repents.
But now the touch of such aspiring sinnes
Tels me all loue is lust but loue of heauens ;
That beautie vsde for loue is vanitie : 5870
The world containes nought but alluring baites,
Pride, flatterie, and inconstant thoughts.
To shun the pricks of death, I leaue the world,
And vow to meditate on heauenly blisse,
To liue in Franiingham a holy Nunne, 1875
Holy and pure in conscience and in deed ;
And for to wish all maides to learne of me,
To seeke heauens ioy before earths vanitie. Friend. And will you then, Margret, be shorn a Nunne,
and so leaue vs all? Margret. Now farewell, world, the engin of all woe ! 1880
Farewell to friends and father ! welcome Christ !
Adew to daintie robes ! this base attire
1857 beautifies Q2 3 1860 harmony Q2 : hearmoney £3 1863 Seeme
Qi : Seem Q3, Dyce, Ward 1867 repeats Qi 1872 inconstants Qq
1875 Fremingham Qi 3 : Framlingham Dyce and Ward 1882 Adieu Q2 3 to om. Q2 danty Q$
72 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [ActV
Better befits an humble minde to God
Than all the shew of rich abilliments.
Farewell, oh Loue, and with fond Loue farewell, 1885
Sweet Lacie, whom I loued once so deere !
Euer be well, but neuer in my thoughts,
Least I offend to thinke on Lacies loue :
But euen to that, as to the rest, farewell :
Enter Lacie, Warrain, Ermsbie, booted and spurd. Lacie. Come on, my wags, weere neere the Keepers lodge. 1890
Heere haue I oft wallet in the watrie Meades,
And chatted with my louely Margret. IVarraine. Sirha Ned, is not this the Keeper? Lacie. Tis the same. Ermsbie. The old lecher hath gotton holy mutton to him :
a Nunne, my lord. 1896
Lacie. Keeper, how farest thou? holla man, what cheere?
How doth Peggie thy daughter and my loue ? Keeper. Ah, good my lord ! oh, wo is me for Pegge !
See where she stands clad in her Nunnes attire, 1900
Readie for to be shorne in Praming/iam :
She leaues the world because she left your loue.
Oh, good my lord, perswade her if you can. Lacie. Why, how now, Margret ? what, a malecontent ?
A Nunne? what holy father taught you this, 1905
To taske your selfe to such a tedious life
As die a maid? twere iniurie to me
To smother vp such bewtie in a cell. Margret. Lord Lacie, thinking of my former misse,
How fond the prime of wanton yeares were spent 1910
In loue, (Oh fie vppon that fond conceite,
Whose hap and essence hangeth in the eye !),
I leaue both loue and loues content at once,
Betaking me to him that is true loue,
And leauing all the world for loue of him. 1915
Lacie. Whence, Peggie, comes this Metamorphosis ?
What, shorne a Nun, and I haue from the Court
Posted with coursers to conuaie thee hence
To Windsore, where our Mariage shal be kept !
1884 habilliments Q2 3 1885 Farewell Dyce Loue Qq 1899 Peggie Ql 1909 my Dyce: thy Qq 1912 hap] hope Q$
Sc I] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 73
Thy wedding robes are in the tailors hands, 1920
Come, Peggy, leaue these peremptorie vowes. Margret. Did not my lord resigne his interest,
And make diuorce twixt Margret and him ? Lacie. Twas but to try sweete Peggies constancie.
But will faire Margret leaue her loue and Lord ? 1925
Margret. Is not heauens ioy before earths fading blisse,
And life aboue sweeter than life in loue ? Lacie. Why, then, Margret will be shorne a Nun ? Mar. Margret hath made a vow which may not be reuolct. Warraine. We cannot stay, my Lord; and if she be so strict, 1930
Our leisure graunts vs not to woo a fresh. Ermsbie. Choose you, faire damsell, yet the choise is yours,
Either a solemne Nunnerie, or the Court,
God, or Lord Lacie : which contents you best,
To be a Nun, or els Lord Lacies wife? 1935
Lacie. A good motion. Peggie, your answere must be short. Margret. The flesh is frayle ; my Lord doth know it well,
That when he comes with his inchanting face,
What so ere betyde I cannot say him nay.
Off goes the habite of a maidens heart, 1940
And, seeing Fortune will, faire Fremingham,
And all the shew of holy Nuns, farewell.
L.acie for me, if he wilbe my lord. Lacie. Peggie, thy Lord, thy loue, thy husband.
Trust me, by truth of knighthood, that the King 1945
Staies for to marry matchles Ellinour,
Vntil I bring thee richly to the Court,
That one day may both marry her and thee.
How saist thou, Keeper ? art thou glad of this ? Keeper. As if the English King had giuen 1950
The parke and deere of Fresingfield to me. Erms. I pray thee, my Lord of Sussex, why art thou in
a broune study ? Warraine. To see the nature of women, that be they neuer so
neare God, yet they loue to die in a mans armes. 1955
Lacie. What haue you fit for breakefast ? we haue hied
and posted all this night to Fresing field .
1923 make] made £3 1926 fading cm. Qi 1934 which] weich Qi 3
1955 they] thy Qq 1957 poasten Qi
74 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [AcrV
Margret. Butter and cheese, and humbls of a Deere,
Such as poore Keepers haue within their lodge.
Lade. And not a bottle of wine ? i960
Margret. Weele find one for my Lord.
Lade. Come, Sussex, lets in : we shall haue more, for she
speaks least, to hold her promise sure.
Exeunt.
(Scene II. Friar Bacon's Cell.') Enter a deuill to seeke Miles. Deuill. How restles are the ghosts of hellish spirites,
When euerie charmer with his Magick spels 1965
Cals vs from nine-fold trenched Phlegiton,
To scud and ouer-scoure the earth in post,
Vpon the speedie wings of swiftest winds !
Now Bacon hath raisd me from the darkest deepe,
To search about the world for Miles his man, 1970
For Miles, and to torment his lasie bones,
For careles watching of his Brasen head.
See where he comes : Oh, he is mine !
Enter Miles with a gowne and a corner cap.
Miles. A scholler, quoth you ! marry, sir, I would I had bene made a botlemaker when I was made a scholler; for I 1975 can get neither to be a Deacon, Reader, nor Schoole- maister, no, not the clarke of a parish. Some call me a dunce ; another saith my head is as full of Latine as an egs full of oatemeale : thus I am tormented that the deuil and Frier Bacon haunts me. Good Lord, heers one 1980 of my maisters deuils ! He goe speake to him. What, maister Plutus, how chere you ?
Deuill. Doost thou know me ?
Miles. Know you, sir ! why, are not you one of my maisters deuils, that were wont to come to my maister Doctor Bacon, 1985 at Brazen-nose ?
Deuill. Yes, marry, am I.
Miles. Good Lord, M. Plutus, I haue seene you a thousand times at my maisters, and yet I had neuer the manners to make you drinke. But sir, I am glad to see how con- 1990
1958 humbles Q$ 1964 sprites Q2 3, Dyce, Ward 1966 Blegiton
Qi : Philegiton Q$ 1972 watchidg Qi 1980 haunt Dyce and Ward
Sell] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 75
formable you are to the statute. I warrant you, hees as yeomanly a man as you shall see : marke you, Maisters, heers a plaine honest man, without welt or garde, but I pray you, sir, do you come lately from hel ?
Deuil. I marry: how then? 1995
Miles. Faith, tis a place I haue desired long to see : haue you not good tipling houses there? may not a man haue a lustie fier there, a pot of good ale, a paire of cardes, a swinging peece of chalice, and a browne toast that will clap a white wastcoat on a cup of good drinke ? 2000
Deuil. All this you may haue there.
Miles. You are for me, freinde, and I am for you. But I pray you, may I not haue an office there?
Deuil. Yes, a thousand : what wouldst thou be ?
Miles. By my troth, sir, in a place where I may profit my 2005 selfe. I know hel is a hot place, and men are meruailous drie, and much drinke is spent there ; I would be a tapster.
Deuil. Thou shalt.
Miles. Theres nothing lets me from going with you, but that tis a long iourney, and I haue neuer a horse. 2010
Deuil. Thou shalt ride on my backe.
Miles. Now surely here's a courteous deuil, that for to 2012 pleasure
his friend, will not sticke to make a lade of himselfe. But say you, goodman friend, let me moue a question to you.
Deuill. What's that? 2015
Miles. I pray you, whether is your pace a trot or an amble ?
Deuill. An amble.
Miles. Tis well ; but take heed it be not a trot. But tis no matter, He preuent it.
Deuill. What doest? 2020
Miles. Mary, friend, I put on my spurs : for if I find your pace either a trot, or else vneasie, He put you to a false gallop, He make you feele the benefit of my spurs.
Deuill. Get vp vpon my backe.
Miles. O Lord, here's euen a goodly maruell, when a man 2025
rides to hell on the Deuils back.
Exeunt roaring.
1991 statute] state Qi 3 1992 yemonly Qi 1993 a om. Ql
welt lost in Q\ B. M. 2000 wascont (?3 2012 here's] heis Q\
Qi B. M. ends here 2014 say] I pray Dyce and Ward
76 THE HONORABLE HISTORIE OF [Ac-rV
(Scene III. At Court.)
Enter the Emperour with a point lesse sword ; next, the King of Castile, carrying a szvord with a point ; Lacy carrying the Globe, Edward Warraine carrying a rod of gold with a Dove on it ; Ermsby with a Crowne and Scepter; the Oueene with the faire maide of Fresingfield on her left hand, Henry, (Saxony), Bacon, with other Lords attending.
Edward. Great Potentates, earths miracles for state, Thinke that Prince Edward humbles at your feet, And, for these fauours, on his martiall sword He vowes perpetuall homage to your selues, 2030
Yeelding these honours vnto Ellinour.
Henrie. Gramercies, Lordings ; old Plantagenet, That rules and swayes the Albion Diademe, With teares discouers these conceiued ioyes, And vowes requitall, if his men at armes, 2035
The wealth of England, or due honours done To Ellinor, may quite his Fauorites. But all this while what say you to the Dames, That shine like to the christall lampes of heauen ?
Emferour. If but a third were added to these two, 2040
They did surpasse those gorgeous Images That gloried Ida with rich beauties wealth.
Margret. Tis I, my Lords, who humbly, on my knee, Must yeeld her horisons to mighty lone, For lifting vp his handmaide to this state; 2045
Brought from her homely cottage to the Court, And graste with Kings, Princes and Emperours, To whom (next to the noble Lincolne Earle) I vow obedience, and such humble loue As may a handmaid to such mighty men. 2050
Ellinor. Thou martiall man that weares the Almaine Crowne, And you the Westerne Potentates of might, The Albian Princesse, English Edwards wife, Proud that the louely star of Fresingfield, Faire Margret, Countesse to the Lincolne Earle, 2055
Attends on Ellinour, — gramercies, Lord, for her, —
2037 Fauorites] fauourers sugg. Dyce 2042 beautious Q$ 2044 Ioue\ loue Qi 2054 Proud] Proued £3 star] state £3
Sc. Ill] FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY 77
Tis I giue thankes for Margret to you all,
And rest for her due bounden to your selues. Henrie. Seeing the marriage is solemnized,
Let's march in triumph to the Royall feast. 2060
But why stands Fryer Bacon here so mute? Bacon. Repentant for the follies of my youth,
That Magicks secret mysteries misled,
And ioyfull that this Royall marriage
Portends such blisse vnto this matchlesse Realme. 2065
Henrie. Why, Bacon, what strange euent shall happen to this
Land,
Or what shall grow from Edward and his Queene ? Bacon. I find by deepe praescience of mine Art,
Which once I tempred in my secret Cell,
That here where Brute did build his Troynouant, 2070
From forth the Royall Garden of a King,
Shall flourish out so rich and faire a bud,
Whose brightnesse shall deface proud Phoebus flowre,
And ouer-shadow Albion with her leaues.
Till then, Mars shall be master of the field : 2075
But then the stormy threats of wars shall cease ;
The horse shall stampe as carelesse of the pike,
Drums shall be turn'd to timbrels of delight ;
With wealthy fauours plenty shall enrich
The strond that gladded wandring Brute to see, 2080
And peace from heauen shall harbour in these leaues,
That gorgeous beautifies this matchlesse flower.
Apollos Hellitropian then shall stoope,
And Venus hyacinth shall vaile her top,
luno shall shut her gilliflowers vp, 2085
And Pallas Bay shall bash her brightest greene ; Ceres carnation, in consort with those,
Shall stoope and wonder at Diana's Rose. Henrie. This Prophesie is mysticall.
But, glorious commanders of Europd's loue, 2090
That makes faire England like that wealthy He,
Circled with Gilien, and swift Euphrates, In Royallizing Henries Albion
2070 build] blind £3 2074 leaues] loues (?3 2082 beautify Dyce and Ward 2092 swift Dyce : first Qq
78 FRIER BACON AND FRIER BONGAY [Act V, Sc. Ill
With presence of your princely mightinesse, Let's march : the tables all are spred, 2095
And viandes such as Englands wealth affords Are ready set to furnish out the bords. You shall haue welcome, mighty Potentates : It rests to furnish vp this Royall Feast, Only your hearts be frolicke : for the time 2100
Craues that we taste of nought but iouysance. Thus glories England ouer all the West. 2102
Exeunt Omnes.
Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci.
INTRODUCTION TO IAMES IV
All that we know of the history of this play is that it was entered on the Stationers' Registers on May 14, 1594, and was probably printed, as the Looking G/asse, Orlatido Furioso, and Frier Bacon and Frier Bongay were, in the same year ; but no copy earlier than the Quarto of 1598 is known to be extant. It was published by Thomas Creede under the title of The Scottish Historie 0/ James IV, slaine at Flodden Field. Entermixed •with a pleasant Comedie pre- sented by Oboram King of Faeries. As it hath been sundrie times plaide. Written by Robert Greene, Maister of Arts. Omne tulit punc- tum 1598. As to the time of its composition we have nothing to guide us. Mr. Fleay is of opinion that it was produced in 1590 because it bears the motto Omne tulit punctum, which Greene affected from August 1589 to October 1590; but as the play appeared nearly two years after his death the insertion of the motto may have been due to the pub- lisher. The text is in a very bad state, and has evidently been printed, without any attempt at editing, from a stage copy. Obvious instances of the carelessness with which it was prepared for the press are seen in the second scene of the second act, where in the stage direction we find ' Arius the nobles spying him returnes,' Arius certainly not being the name of the King of Scotland ; in ii. 2 and iii. 1 Gnato is put for Ateukin, and in iv. 1 he is added superfluously with Ateukin ; in the third scene of the fifth act 'Arius' stands for the King of England, whereas elsewhere he is always called ' the King of England,' and in the many corruptions to be found in other stage directions as well as in the text. Something has evidently dropped out at the end of the play \ and the fourth scene of the fifth act, though evidently written by Greene, looks very like an interpolation from some other drama. Again, there is no interlude at the end of the fifth act, though it is introduced at the end of all the other acts. The very title of the play is absurd, and when connected with a passage in the opening interlude (11. 102-3) displays an ignorance of which Greene must have been incapable. There the hero is thus spoken of: 'In the year 1520, was in" Scotland a King, ouer- ruled with parasites, misled by lust,' &c, whose ' story ' is ' set down ' ; but on the title-page that king is represented to be ' James IV, slaine at
1 See King James's words ' Till time when ? ' (v. 6), which as they stand are unintelligible.
8o IAMES THE FOVRTH
Flodden,' a battle which took place nearly seven years before. Beyond the fact that James IV of Scotland was famous for his gallantries, and that he married, not Dorothea, but Margaret the daughter of Henry VII, the play has absolutely no relation at all to that king, or to the events of his reign. What probably determined the title were the scandals in circulation with reference to James's notorious amours, particularly his connexion with Lady Margaret Drummond1, while his support of Perkin Warbeck (1495-7) and his invasion of England in 1513 made him anything but a persona grata with the English people.
The plot is taken, as Mr. P. A. Daniel was the first to point out 2, from the first novel of the third decade of G. B. Giraldi Cinthio's Hecatom- mithi, who has himself dramatized the story in his Arrenopia, a cum- brous classical drama with which, as Mr. Daniel says, Greene may have been acquainted, but of which he has certainly made no use. I give a brief analysis of the novel with extracts, that it may be seen by comparison how Greene has moulded his materials. There are nine personages in the novel : Astatio the King of Ireland, who answers to Greene's King of Scotland; Arrenopia= Greene's Dorothea; Ida, whose name Greene retains ; her mother, the Lady of Mona = the Countess of Arran ; the Capitano = Jaques and Ateukin ; the Cavaliero = Sir Cuthbert Anderson ; the Cavaliero's wife = Lady Anderson ; the Queen's Page = Nano ; the Queen's royal father, the King of Scotland = the King of England ; a young gentleman of Mona=Lord Eustace.
' In the island of Ireland once reigned a king, Astatio by name, a valiant man but of fickle disposition, and far more inclined to satisfy his desires than to be guided by honour and reason. He took to wife a daughter of the King of Scotland, fair and noble and of excellent conversation ( " di maniere honestissime ") , with whom he lived peacefully for some years. It happened that having to visit his father-in-law in Scotland he was cast by a sudden tempest upon an island not far distant, called Mona, where he was hospitably entertained by a widow, the lady of the isle, who had a daughter of the age of fifteen, not less fair than virtuous and well-bred, and her name was Ida. And she, as soon as she was seen by Astatio, so stormed the fortress of his heart that he utterly forgot his wife. The lady, who was wise and very prudent (" savia ed accorta molto "), seeing her guest in no hurry to depart, kept a close watch on Ida (' ' come devrebbero fare tutte le donne che figliuole hanno"). Astatio, despairing of seeing the girl alone, determines to tempt the mother. Two years before the island had been devastated by a tidal wave, which had done much damage, and so the island was no longer a dowry equal to Ida's rank. The king, taking advantage of this, proposes to supplement this deficiency by conferring on her a dowry worthy of her virtue and her beauty, as the price of her dishonour (" se voi volete ch' io sia con vostra Figliuola, le daro tanto migliaia di scudi, che potrete essere sicuiissima, che non si rimarra alcuno di pigliarla per moglie "). This offer is rejected with blushes and scorn. The king now sees that dishonourable
1 See Tytler, Hist, of Scotland, Notes and Illustrations, vol. iv. 418-20.
2 Athenaeum for October 8, 1881.
INTRODUCTION 81
relations with Ida are out of the question, and if he would possess her he must find some means to marry her. Whereupon his thoughts turned to the murder of his wife Arrenopia. With this wicked and cruel thought he departed from Mona and returned to his kingdom, where his wife, burning with most chaste longing, came to meet him with beaming countenance, rejoicing with him for that he had come again safely to his kingdom and to her. And although she was fair enough and bore in her face plainly to be seen gaiety of heart and the faithful love which she had to her husband, yet was she received by Astatio with no other eyes than if she had been unsightly and faithless, so utterly had ill-governed desire stifled reason in that wanton and fickle mind of his. So, feigning as best he could a cheerful mien, he sought to hide the wicked thought he had conceived. And by the lady's side he was in no less uneasiness than if he had been with his principal enemy. And not many clays passed ere he called to him a captain of his men-at-arms who was both cruel and wicked, and told him he wanted him to murder Arrenopia, but that the deed must be done in such a way that to the King of Scotland his daughter's death should appear reasonable, so that he might have no reason for arming against him. The captain was one of those who when they do anything to please their lord never reflect whether it is just or unjust, seemly or unseemly, and promised to do whatever he was bidden. The king conveys his instructions in a letter, and the instructions were that the captain was to make his way secretly by night into the queen's chamber, murder her, her chambermaid, and a servant man, and having done so, place the servant man's corpse beside the queen's as though they had been taken in adultery. But this letter comes by an accident into the queen's hand, and her husband's wicked plot against her honour and her life is known to her. And the story continues thus : Arrenopia, having been trained under her father's roof to bear arms, so as to be an equal match for any knight, pretended that she meant to go with her page to a place not far from the city whither it was her wont to go to divert herself by practising her exercises. No sooner had she reached that place than she donned her full armour and girded on her sword, and mounted on her steed and set forth with her page towards the coast to pass over into Scotland. After having ridden all night she is overtaken at dawn by the captain, who, having heard of her flight, had gone after her. They at once engage, and the queen is wounded : "and being weakened by the stream of blood which flowed from her wound, not much longer could she have held out against the prowess of the captain. But God sent her timely succour. For there passed that way a knight who had set out from Reba to go to St. Patrick's, and seeing the lady in sore straits rescued her from the captain's hands, all the time taking her for a cavalier and not a lady." The knight, moved with pity, returned to Reba, taking the lady with him, and calling in surgeons had her carefully attended to. But the lady would not suffer any to wait on her but her own page, who was instructed to say that she was a Scottish knight who had been involved in some quarrel. The captain meanwhile, ashamed of his defeat by the knight, and believing that the queen could never recover, so severely had she been wounded, announces her death. "At which words Astatio was full glad, and it seemed to him that her death could not have fallen out more luckily for proving her infidelity in the eyes of all and of her father himself, for that armed in that guise she had fled by night." He then issues an edict publishing her guilt and punishment, hoping thus to avert her father's suspicions. Then he hurries off to Mona that he may marry Ida, but finds her
COLLINS. II G
82 IAMES THE FOVRTH
already married. And great is his grief and disgust l. He returns in despair, and everywhere he seems to see before his eyes Arrenopia reproaching him with her shameful death and menacing just punishment. Meanwhile the King of Scotland, hearing of his unhappy daughter's fate, and believing that the story of her dishonour must be false, as he knew her character and her love for her husband, sends to Ireland to make inquiries (" e non manco di cercare, per ogni :1 via, la verita di questo fatto"). He ascertains the truth, and then .res war. ' Meanwhile Arrenopia had recovered from her wounds and is restored again to health. The knight's wife being very attentive to her, for the secret of the queen's sex is not yet discovered, the knight becomes jealous. Cinthio is careful to show that there is nothing unworthy in the love of the knight's wife for the beautiful youth3. However, the jealousy of the husband is so apparent that Arrenopia thinks it expedient to leave the house and take another lodging. Meanwhile the war between Scotland and Ireland is raging. Arrenopia visits Astatio's camp, still in disguise, and finds out that her husband was full of remorse for what he had done, and had said that he would give half his kingdom if he could bring her back to life. It happened too that the knight who was so jealous of her had come to the camp to pay his homage to the king. And now Arrenopia determines to make herself known. But first she resolves to put things straight with the knight by revealing her identity to him ; and that she may reward him for having saved her life she resolves that he shall have the credit of restoring her to her husband. Accordingly she asks the knight to come and see her, as she has something important to communicate to him. He comes: she taxes his hand and says. "Knight, I would have you now know how wrong men often are in being jealous of their wives" '"Cavaliero, voglio che tu hora conoschi a quanto torto molte fiate gli huomini ingelosiscono dells lor donne ", ; and with these wor-is she discovers first her sex and afterwards her name and title. The knight falls on his knees, does homage to her as his queen, and craves pardon for his error. Then she tells him what she wishes him to do. He craves an audience of the king, and after drawing the king on to speak of his troubles, of the troubles in which he had involved his kingdom, and of the troubles which he had brought on himself through his wicked set to his wife, he amazes the king by telling him that Arrenopia is alive.
1 ' La madre, che havea veduto in che pericolo era stata la sua Figliuola, quando Astatio era in casa, temendo di qualche strano accidente, 1' havea maritata ad un nobilissimo Giouvane dell' Isola ; volendola piii tosto dare a private huomo con honore, che darla nelle mani d' un Re con gran vergogna. >Ton si potrebbe dire, quanto fosse grave ad Astatio il retrovare Ida maritata. Fit per impazzire itto, e retornossi a cast li gravissima maninconia, e dicea il misero
ate f:a se : ve' come ho fatto dar morte indignissima alia Moglie mia per avere Ida. et hora son senza questa e senza quella, la quale meritava da me non fine simile a <v ella havuto ha, ma etemo honore. Et bavSdo egli tutta
via questa stir.a al cuore ch' aspramente lo pungeva, era venuto a fastidio a se mo.1 5 ' Era da'.Ia M glie del Cavalier- rmente amata non gia per lascivia
the '.a toccasse, ma per gli nobili costnmi e per la rara qualita della Donna, la quale ella credea che un cavaliero fosse, e come fratello 1' amava. Et era ella molto sollecita a tutto quello, che vedea, ch' a suo commodo e suo servigio fosse. Dalla quale soiled! ruello, che per la poca hie altrui tal
:re si rede, senza colpa delle Donne, quando semplicemente, e con re3 cortesj si mosbano verso alcuno virtuoso spirito.'
INTRODUCTION 83
He offers to prove it by the testimony of the "knight in your camp who is called the unknown." " Call him," says the king ; and then the knight presents Arrenopia, still disguised, to Astatio. " What know you, sir, of my wife ? " says the king. " I know so much, my lord," is the answer, " that ere I go I will show her to you." With these words raising her vizor and composing her face and voice to move compassion — " Behold," she cried, "Astatio, your unhappy Arrenopia ; behold, that wretched one whom you, through mad love, wished to be murdered by the wicked captain who cruelly wounded her that he might slay her. You see her here before you healed and alive and wholly yours. See, Astatio, that neither grievous injuries, nor plots against her life, nor wounds undeservedly received, nor other sorts of treachery, have availed to prevent her from loving you alone and from coming to your aid in so perilous a war as this which her father, believing her to be dead, has waged against your realm. Consider here, I pray you, my husband, if the love and the loyalty of your wife merited her being cruelly killed by your orders on the plea that she was an adulteress, or whether rather she was not worthy of a return of love and loyalty on your part." And here tenderly weeping she ran to embrace him1. Astatio replies with repentance and affection. The knight is thanked and richly rewarded ; and a few days afterwards Arrenopia goes as ambassador to her father's camp, tells her story, and brings him back with her to be reconciled to his penitent son-in-law.'
When we compare Greene's play with the novel we not only see how and to what extent he was one of the masters of Shakespeare, but how near he came to being a really efficient dramatist. We see, little more than in embryo, it is true, what fine conceptions he had, and what tact, insight, and skill he possessed as a dramatic artist. Take the setting of the play. In Oberon we have the germ of a Prospero, in Bohan the germ of a Jaques, in both the embodiment of philosophic contemplation of life. They stand apart from the action— Bohan a world-weary, disillusioned cynic, Oberon the tranquil, cheerful spirit to whom if life and man are dream and shadow they are yet amusing. And is he not also King of the Fairies = lord of the realm of Fancy ? ' I tell thee, Bohan, Oberon is King Of quiet, pleasure, profit, and content, Of wealth, of honor, and of all the world; Tide to no place, yet all are tide to me. Liue thou [in] this life, exilde from world and men, And I mil shew thee wonders ere we part' (11. 60S-13).
1 ' Et con queste parole alzatasi la visiera, e composto il viso, & la voce al moverecompassione; Ecco, disse, Astatio, la vostra infelice Arrenopia, Eccoquella misera, cui voi, per folle amore, volevate fare uccidere alio scelerato Capitano, il quale a morte crudelmente la percosse. Vedetelavi avanti, et risanata, et viva, & tutta vostra. Vedete, Astatio, che ne ingiuria grave, ne morte apparecchiatale, ne ferite indegnamente ricevute, ne altre maniere d' insidie, 1' hanno potuta ritrarre da singolarmente amarvi, & da non venire in vostro aiuto in cosl pericolosa guerra, quale e questa, che il suo Padre, credendola per voi morta, ha mossa al Regno vostro. Considerate vi prego, marito mio, se 1 amore & la fede della Mogliera vostra meritava, che fosse, di vostra commissione, crudelmente uccisa, sotto nome di adultera, 6 se pure era degna, che le fosse da voi con amore e con fede risposto. Et qui teneramente piangendo lo corse ad abbracciare.'
G 2
84 IAMES THE FOVRTH
There cannot be the smallest doubt that Shakespeare saw what Greene meant, and that the Midsummer Night's Dream only gave more articulate expression to what found stammering and partial expression in the Interlude portions of this play. The whole conduct of the plot, in what it omits and in what it retains, in what it adds and in what it modifies, taught, so far as we know, for the first time the most fruitful of secrets to the Elizabethan dramatists— the art of adapting the Italian novel to the popular English stage. The character of James and the character of Lady Anderson are striking illustrations of Greene's power of conceiving as distinguished from his power of developing his crea- tions. He had the tact to substitute for Cinthio's cruel and atrocious villain a man in whom the higher and lower nature is in conflict, and in whom the conscience of a naturally honourable and even chival- rous man is never asleep. Thus, to relieve him of part of the burden of infamy, he creates Ateukin to originate and prompt the murder, and he does not complicate the purposed crime by tarnishing Dorothea's honour and involving others in her death. But we feel that Shake- speare has effected in a single soliloquy — that of Claudius in Hamlet — what Greene fails to effect through a whole drama. In the position of the King he has all the material for a most impressive moral tragedy, and in faint touches we have it ; but it fails to impress, and the character dwindles into a weak, selfish, and somewhat commonplace young libertine. The struggle of an honourable woman with a dishonourable passion — another original deviation from the novel — gave him a second opportunity for a study of profound interest ; but he has not even invested it with pathos. There is, however, one fine touch, where Lady Anderson suddenly turns in revulsion on herself with ' Blush, greeue, and die in thine insaciat lust' (1. 2169). The other women are admirable : the countess — how vividly is her personality realized out of mere hints furnished by the novel — with her quiet dignity, her easy condescension, as gracious as in her younger and happier days, her watchful love for her child, her prudence, her knowledge of that world which she had long renounced and had so justly estimated— she is only a sketch, but she lives ! Ida is beautifully drawn — a Miranda nurtured in solitude by a female instead of a male philosopher. But Dorothea would do honour to Shakespeare : she is the soul of the drama, and as her presence pervades it she redeems all the faults of the play. I have already shown that there is one type of woman of which all Greene's best female characters are repetitions, and Dorothea is their queen, the crown and flower of them. It was no doubt the character of Arrenopia which attracted him to the novel. Among the minor characters the Bishop of St. Andrews, though slightly sketched, is drawn well.
For the comic portions of the play Greene was most likely only partially responsible ; some of them have all the appearance of inter-
INTRODUCTION 85
polations. The serious parts are beautifully written, and have all the appearance of belonging to Greene's latest work. The blank verse, which is far superior to that of Alfihonsus, the Looking Glasse, and Orlando, is very musical — having an ease, a smoothness, and a flexibility which are quite charming. Of all Greene's plays it has most thought and reflection in it.
Mr. Fleay {Biog. Chron. Dram., vol. i. p. 265) contends, arguing mainly from the confusion of names in the play, that it was not the work of a single hand — that Greene had an assistant ; and that assistant, he thinks, was Lodge, whose hand he discerns in the fourth scene of the fifth act, which is certainly very much in the style of the satirical scenes of the Looking; Glasse commonly attributed to Lodge. Some colour is added to this conjecture, though Mr. Fleay does not notice it, by the curious parallel between Jaques and Pedro, a character in Lodge's Wounds of Civil War : both express themselves in the same broken jargon of French and English, both have a strong generic resemblance, and both are employed as cutthroats, Jaques to assassinate Dorothea and Pedro to assassinate Marius. But all this, allowing even for other similarities with Lodge's dramatic work, does not warrant us in concluding that he had any hand in the com- position of the play. Interpolations not from Greene's hands were very likely made in the play, and are to be found in the comic portions, but there is nothing to justify us in assuming that they were by Lodge.
The text is based on a collation of the two Quartos bearing the same date, 1598, one in the British Museum and one in the South Kensington Museum. When it has been necessary to record a difference between the two Quartos the letters B.M. and S.K. have been used. The play is said to have been reprinted in 1599, and the reprint is duly recorded by Lowndes, but of such a reprint I can discover no trace. Possibly this may be an error originating from Baker, who in his Biog. Dram. gives 1599 as the date of the only edition he notices.
THE
SCOTTISH
le of lames the
Entcrmixcd w uh a plcafant Comcdic, prefented by Oboram Kipg of Fayeriess £
A sit kith bene fundrie times publikelj plaide.
Written by %obert Greene, Maiftef of Ans. Omnc tulit funttum.
LONDON Primed by Thgmas Crccdc. I ; 9 &
1 (DRAMATIS PERSONAE
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 j ) sQm fo BoHAN>
Nano, a dwarf, )
Andrew.
Purveyor, Herald, Scout, Huntsmen, Soldiers, Revellers, $c.
Dorothea, Queen of Scots. Countess of Arran. Ida, her daughter. Lady Anderson. Ladies, SfC.
Oberon, King of Fairies.
Bohan.
Antics, Fairies, $v.)
1 Not in Q — adopted from Dyce.
THE SCOTTISH HYSTORIE OF IAMES THE FOVRTH, SLAINE AT FLODDEN.
Musicke playing within.
Enter Aster Oberon, King of Fayries j an{d) Antique(s), who dance about a Tombe,pladst conueniently on the Stage; out of the which suddainly starts vp, as they daunce, Bohan, a Scot, attyred like a ridstall man, from whom the Antique(s)flye.
Oberon Manet.
Boh. Ay say, whats thou?
Oder. 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 the(e) ganging, and trouble not may whayet, or ays gar the(e) recon me nene 5 of thay friend, by the Mary masse, sail I.
Oder. Why, angrie Scot, I visit thee for loue ; then what mooues thee to wroath ?
Boh. The deele awhit reck I thy loue. For I knowe too well that true loue tooke her flight twentie winter sence to 10 heauen, whither till ay can, weele I wot, ay sal nere finde loue : an thou lou'st me, leaue me to my selfe. But what were those Puppits that hopt and skipt about me year whayle ?
Ober. My subiects.
Boh. Thay subiects! whay, art thou a King? J5
Ober. I am.
Boh. The deele thou art ! whay, thou look'st not so big as the King of Clubs, nor so sharpe as the King of Spades, nor so faine as the King a Daymonds : be the masse, ay take thee to bee the king of false harts ; therfore I rid thee away, or 20 ayse so curry your Kingdome that you's be glad to runne to saue your life.
The Scottish Historie of lames the fourth, slaine at Flodden. Entermixed with a pleasant Comedie, presented by Oboram King of Fayeries. 1598 (Title- page).
S. D. After . . . an Antique. . . Antique fly es Q 5 recon] reson Q
19 Adaymonds Q
90 THE SCOTTISH HYSTORIE OF
Ober. Why, stoycall Scot, do what thou dar'st to me : heare is my brest, strike.
Boh. Thou wilt not threap me, this whiniard has gard many 25 better men to lope then thou ! ( Tries to draiv his sword. ) But how now ! Gos sayds, what, wilt not out ? whay, thou wich, thou deele ! Gads fute, may whiniard !
Ober. Why, pull, man : but what an 'twear out, how then ?
Boh. This, then, — thou weart best begon first; for ayl so lop 3° thy lyms that thou's go with half a knaues carkasse to the deele.
Ober. Draw it out : now strike, foole, canst thou not ?
Boh. Bread ay gad, what deele is in me? whay, tell mee, thou skipiack, what art thou? 35
Ober. Nay, first tell me what thou wast from thy birth, what thou hast past hitherto, why thou dwellest in a Tombe and leauest the world, and then I will release thee of these bonds ; before, not.
Boh. And not before ! then needs must, needs sal. I was borne 40 a Gentleman of the best bloud in all Scotland, except the King. When time brought me to age, and death tooke my parents, I became a Courtier ; where, though ay list not praise my selfe, ay engraued the memory of Bohan on the skin-coate of some of them, and reueld with the proudest. 45
Ober. But why, liuing in such reputation, didst thou leaue to be a Courtier?
Boh. Because my pride was vanitie, my expence losse, my reward faire words and large promises, and my hopes spilt, for that after many yeares seruice one outran me ; and what the deele 50 should I then do there ? No, no ; flattering knaues, that can cog and prate fastest, speede best in the Court.
Ober. To what life didst thou then betake thee?
Boh. I then chang'd the Court for the Countrey, and the wars for a wife : but I found the craft of swaines more vile then the knauery 55 of courtiers, the charge of children more heauie then seruants, and wiues tongues worse then the warres it selfe ; and therefore I gaue ore that, and went to the citie to dwell ; and there I kept a great house with smal cheer, but all was nere the nere.
Ober. And why ? 60
44 Boughon Q 55-56 B. M. copy has only the craft of swaines more wise then the seruants
I AMES THE FOVRTH 91
Boh. Because, in seeking friends, I found table guests to eate me and my meat ; my wiues gossops 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 Citie worst of all, in good time my wife died, — ay wood she had died 65 twentie winter sooner, by the masse ! leauing my two sonnes to the world, and shutting my selfe into this Tombe, where if I dye I am sure I am safe from wilde beasts, but whilest I liue cannot be free from ill companie. Besides, now I am sure, gif all my friends fail me, I sail haue a graue of mine 70 owne prouiding. This is all. Now, what art thou ?
Oder. Oberon, King of Fayries, that loues thee because thou hatest the world ; and to gratulate thee, I brought these Antiques to shew thee some sport in dauncing, which thou haste loued well. 75
Boh. Ha, ha, ha ! thinkest thou those puppits can please me ? whay, I haue two sonnes, that with one Scottish gigge shall breake the neckes of thy Antiques.
Oder. That I would faine see.
Boh. Why, thou shalt. Howe, boyes ! 8o
Enter Slipper and Nano.
Haud your clacks, lads, trattle not for thy life, but gather oppe
your legges, and daunce me forthwith a gigge worth the sight. Slip. Why, I must talk, on I dy for't : wherefore was my tongue
made ? Boh. Prattle, an thou darst, one word more, and ais dab this 85
whiniard in thy wombe. Oder. Be quiet, Bohan. He strike him dumbe, and his brother
too : their talk shal not hinder our gigg. — fall to it ; dance,
I say, man. Boh. Dance Humer, dance, ay rid thee. 9°
The two dance a gig deuised for the Nonst.
Now get you to the wide world with more then my father gaue me, thats learning enough both kindes, knauerie & honestie ; and that I gaue you, spend at pleasure. Oder. Nay, for their sport I will giue them this gift : to the Dwarfe I giue a quicke witte, tprettiet of body, and a warrant 95 his preferment to a Princes Seruice, where by his wisdome he
79 would I S. K. 81 clucks B. M. 85 one] ene S. A'. 90 Heimor B. M.
92 THE SCOTTISH HYSTORIE OF [Act I
shall gaine more loue then common ; and to loggerhead your
sonne I giue a wandering life, and promise he shall neuer lacke,
and auow, that if in all distresses he call vpon me, to helpe
him. — Now let them go. 100
Exeunt with curtesies.
Boh. Now, King, if thou be a King, I will shew thee whay I
hate the world by demonstration. In the year 1520, was in
Scotland a King, ouerruled with parasites, misled by lust, and
many circumstances too long to trattle on now, much like our
Court of Scotland this day. That story haue I set down. 105
Gang with me to the Gallery, and He shew thee the same in
action by guid fellowes of our country men ; and then when
thou seest that, iudge if any wise man would not leaue the
world if he could.
Ober. That will I see: lead, and ile follow thee. no
Exeunt. Laus Deo detur in Eternum.
Enter the King of England, the King 0/ Scots, Dorithe his Queen, the Countesse, Lady Ida, with other Lords; and Ateukin with them aloofe.
ACTVS PRIMVS. Scena Prima.
K. of Scots. Brother of England, since our neighboring land
And neare alliance doth inuite our loues,
The more I think vpon our last accord,
The more I greeue your suddaine parting hence.
First, lawes of friendship did confirme our peace, 115
Now both the seale of faith and marriage bed,
The name of father, and the style of friend ;
These force in me affection full confirmd ;
So that I greeue — and this my heartie griefe,
The heauens record, the world may witnesse well — 120
To loose your presence, who are now to me
A father, brother, and a vowed friend. K. of Eng. Sink all these louely stiles, good King, in one :
And since thy griefe exceeds in my depart,
I leaue my Dorithea to enioy 125
Thy whole compact (of) loues and plighted vowes.
106 Ile] he Q 125, 6 to enioy thy whole compact Loues and plighted
vowes Q
Sc. I] IAMES THE FOVRTH 93
Brother of Scotland, this is my ioy, my life,
Her fathers honour, and her Countries hope,
Her mothers comfort, and her husbands blisse :
I tell thee, King, in louing of my Doll, xl°
Thou bindst her fathers heart, and all his friends,
In bands of loue that death cannot dissolue. K. of Scots. Nor can her father loue her like to me,
My hues light, and the comfort of my soule. —
Faire Dorithea, that wast Englands pride, *35
Welcome to Scotland; and, in signe of loue,
Lo, I inuest thee with the Scottish Crowne. —
Nobles and Ladies, stoupe vnto your Queene,
And Trumpets sound, that Heralds may proclaime
Faire Dorithea peerlesse Queene of Scots. 14°
All. Long liue and prosper our faire Q(ueene) of Scots !
Enstall and Crowne her. Dor. Thanks to the King of Kings for my dignity ;
Thanks to my father, that prouides so carefully ;
Thanks to my Lord and husband for this honor ;
And thanks to all that loue their King and me. 145
All. Long liue faire Dorithea, our true Queene ! K. of Eng. Long shine the sun of Scotland in her prid
Her fathers comfort, and faire Scotlands Bride ! .r .
But, Dorithea, since I must depart,
And leaue thee from thy tender mothers charge,
Let me aduise my louely daughter first
What best befits her in a forraine land.
Liue, Doll, for many eyes shall looke on thee,
With care of honor and the present state ;
For she that steps to height of Maiestie J55
Is euen the marke whereat the enemy aimes :
Thy vertues shall be construed to vice,
Thine affable discourse to abiect minde ;
If coy, detracting tongues will call thee proud.
Be therefore warie in this slippery state : 160
Honour thy husband, loue him as thy life,
Make choyce of friends, as Eagles of their yoong,
Who sooth no vice, who flatter not for gaine,
But loue such friends as do the truth maintaine.
154 With Dyce : Haue Q
150
94 THE SCOTTISH HYSTORIE OF [Act I
Thinke on these lessons when thou art alone, J6s
And thou shalt Hue in health when I am gone. Dor. I will engraue these precep(t)s in my heart :
And as the wind with calmTresse woes you hence,
Euen so I wish the heauens in all mishaps
May blesse my father with continuall grace. 17°
K. ofDng. Then, son, farewell :
The fauouring windes inuites vs to depart.
Long circumstance in taking princely leaues
Is more officious then conuenient.
Brother of Scotland, loue me in my childe; *75
You greet me well, if so you will her good. K. of Scots. Then, louely Doll, and all that fauor me,
Attend to see our English friends at sea :
Let all their charge depend vpon my purse :
They are our neighbors, by whose kind accord l8°
We dare attempt the proudest Potentate.
Onely, faire Countesse, and your daughter, stay ;
With you I haue some other thing to say.
Exeunt all sane the King, the Countesse, Ida, Ateukin, in all royal tie.
K. of Scots. So let them tryumph that haue cause to ioy :
But, wretched King, thy nuptiall knot is death, 185
Thy Bride the breeder of thy Countries ill;
For thy false heart dissenting from thy hand,
Misled by loue, hath made another choyce,
Another choyce, euen when thou vowdst thy soule
To Dorithea, Englands choysest pride : 19°
O, then thy wandring eyes bewitcht thy heart !
Euen in the Chappell did thy fancie change,
When, periur'd man, though faire Doll had thy hand,
The Scottish Idaes bewtie stale thy heart :
Yet feare & loue hath tyde thy readie tongue 195
From babbling forth the passions of thy minde,
Lest fearefull silence haue in suttle lookes
Bewrayd the treason of my new vowd loue.
Be faire and louely, Doll; but here's the prize,
That lodgeth here, and entred through mine eyes : 200
Yet, how so ere I loue, I must be wise. —
171-2 one line Q 188 hath Dyce: hast Q 197 Lest] 'Less Dyce
Sc.I] IAMES THE FOVRTH
95
Now, louely Countesse, what reward or grace
May I imploy on you for this your zeale,
And humble honors, done vs in our Court,
In entertainment of the English King? 205
Countesse. It was of dutie, Prince, that I haue done ;
And what in fauour may content me most ;
Is, that it please your grace to giue me leaue
For to returne vnto my Countrey home. K. of Scots. But, louely Ida, is your mind the same? 210
Ida. I count of Court, my Lord, as wise men do,
Tis fit for those that knowes what longs thereto :
Each person to his place; the wise to Art,
The Cobler to his clout, the swaine to Cart. K. of Scots. But, Ida, you are faire, and bewtie shines, 3I5
And seemeth best, where pomp her pride refines. Ida. If bewtie, (as I know there's none in me,)
Were sworne my loue, and I his life should be,
The farther from the Court I were remoued,
The more, I thinke, of heauen I were beloued. 22°
K. of Scots. And why ? Ida. Because the Court is