W. CAREW HAZLITT. (continued 2)

Carisophus. If ever you will show your friendship, now is the time, Seeing the king is displeased with me of my part without any crime. Aristippus. It should appear, it comes of some evil behaviour, That you so suddenly are cast out of favour. Carisophus. Nothing have I done but this; in talk I overthwarted Eubulus, When he lamented Pithias’ case to King Dionysius. Which to-morrow shall die, but for that false knave Damon, He hath left his friend in the briars, and now is gone. We grew so hot in talk, that Eubulus protested plainly, Which[128] held his ears open to parasitical flattery. And now in the king’s ear like a bell he rings, Crying that flatterers have been the destroyers of kings. Which talk in Dionysius’ heart hath made so deep impression, That he trusteth me not, as heretofore, in no condition: And some words brake from him, as though that he Began to suspect my truth and honesty, Which you of friendship I know will defend, how so ever the world goeth: My friend—for my honesty will you not take an oath? Aristippus. To swear for your honesty, I should lose mine own. Carisophus. Should you so, indeed? I would that were known. Is your void friendship come thus to pass? Aristippus. I follow the proverb: Amicus usque ad aras. Carisophus. Where can you say I ever lost mine honesty? Aristippus. You never lost it, for you never had it, as far as I know. Carisophus. Say you so, friend Aristippus, whom I trust so well? Aristippus. Because you trust me, to you the truth I tell. Carisophus. Will you not stretch one point, to bring me in favour again? Aristippus. I love no stretching; so I may breed mine own pain. Carisophus. A friend ought to shun no pain, to stand his friend in stead. Aristippus. Where true friendship is, it is so in very deed. Carisophus. Why, sir, hath not the chain of true friendship linked us two together? Aristippus. The chiefest link lacked thereof, it must needs dissever. Carisophus. What link is that? fain would I know. Aristippus. Honesty. Carisophus. Doth honesty knit the perfect knot in true friendship? Aristippus. Yea, truly, and that knot so knit will never slip. Carisophus. Belike, then, there is no friendship but between honest men. Aristippus. Between the honest only; for, Amicitia inter bonos,[129] saith a learned man. Carisophus. Yet evil men use friendship in things unhonest, where fancy doth serve. Aristippus. That is no friendship, but a lewd liking; it lasts but a while. Carisophus. What is the perfectest friendship among men that ever grew? Aristippus. Where men love one another, not for profit, but for virtue. Carisophus. Are such friends both alike in joy and also in smart? Aristippus. They must needs; for in two bodies they have but one heart. Carisophus. Friend Aristippus, deceive me not with sophistry: Is there no perfect friendship, but where is virtue and honesty? Aristippus. What a devil then meant Carisophus To join in friendship with fine Aristippus? In whom is as much virtue, truth and honesty, As there are true feathers in the three Cranes of the Vintree:[130] Yet their[131] feathers have the shadow of lively feathers, the truth to scan, But Carisophus hath not the shadow of an honest man. To be plain, because I know thy villainy, In abusing Dionysius to many men’s injury, Under the cloak of friendship I play’d with his head, And sought means how thou with thine own fancy might be led. My friendship thou soughtest for thine own commodity, As worldly men do, by profit measuring amity: Which I perceiving, to the like myself I framed, Wherein I know of the wise I shall not be blamed: If you ask me; Quare? I answer, Quia prudentis est multum dissimulare. To speak more plainer, as the proverb doth go, In faith, Carisophus, cum Cretense cretizo. Yet a perfect friend I show myself to thee in one thing, I do not dissemble, now I say I will not speak for thee to the king: Therefore sink in thy sorrow, I do not deceive thee, A false knave I found thee, a false knave I leave thee. [Exit. Carisophus. He is gone! is this friendship, to leave his friend in the plain field? Well, I see now I myself have beguiled, In matching with that false fox in amity, Which hath me used to his own commodity: Which seeing me in distress, unfeignedly goes his ways. Lo, this is the perfect friendship among men now-a-days; Which kind of friendship toward him I used secretly; And he with me the like hath requited me craftily, It is the gods’ judgment, I see it plainly, For all the world may know, Incidi in foveam quam feci. Well, I must content myself, none other help I know, Until a merrier gale of wind may hap to blow. [Exit.

Eubulus. Who deals with kings in matters of great weight, When froward will doth bear the chiefest sway, Must yield of force; there need no subtle sleight, No painted[132] speech the matter to convey. No prayer can move, when kindled is the ire. The more ye quench, the more increased[133] the fire. This thing I prove in Pithias’ woful case, Whose heavy hap with tears I do lament: The day is come, when he, in Damon’s place, Must lose his life: the time is fully spent. Nought can my words now with the king prevail, Against the wind and striving stream[134] I sail: For die thou must, alas! thou seely Greek. Ah Pithias, now come is thy doleful hour: A perfect friend, one[135] such a world to seek. Though bitter death shall give thee sauce full sour, Yet for thy faith enroll’d shall be thy name Among the gods within the book of fame. Who knoweth his case, and will not melt in tears? His guiltless blood shall trickle down anon.

Alas, what hap hast thou, poor Pithias, now to die! Woe worth the man which for his death hath given us cause to cry. Eubulus. Methink I hear, with yellow rented hairs, The Muses frame their notes, my state to moan:[136] Among which sort, as one that mourneth with heart, In doleful times myself will bear a part. Muses. Woe worth the man which for his death, &c. Eubulus. With yellow rented hairs, come on, you Muses nine; Fill now my breast with heavy tunes, to me your plaint resign: For Pithias I bewail, which presently must die, Woe worth the man which for his death hath given us cause, &c. Muses. Woe worth the man which for his, &c. Eubulus. Was ever such a man, that would die for his friend? I think even from the heavens above the gods did him down send To show true friendship’s power, which forc’d thee now to die. Woe worth the man which for thy death, &c. Muses. Woe worth the man, &c. Eubulus. What tiger’s whelp was he, that Damon did accuse? What faith hast thou, which for thy friend thy death doth not refuse? O heavy hap hadst thou to play this tragedy! Woe worth the man which for thy death, &c. Muses. [Woe] worth the man, &c. Eubulus. Thou young and worthy Greek, that showeth such perfect love, The gods receive thy simple ghost into the heavens above: Thy death we shall lament with many a weeping eye. Woe worth the man, which for his death, &c. Muses. Woe worth the man, which for thy death hath given us cause to cry. Eubulus. Eternal be your fame, ye Muses, for that in misery Ye did vouchsafe to strain your notes to walk. My heart is rent in two with this miserable case, Yet am I charged by Dionysius’ mouth to see this place At all points ready for the execution of Pithias. Need hath no law: will[137] I or nil I, it must be done, But lo, the bloody minister is even here at hand.

Gronno, I came hither now to understand, If all things are well appointed for the execution of Pithias. The king himself will see it done here in this place. Gronno. Sir, all things are ready, here is the place, here is the hand, here is the sword: Here lacketh none but Pithias, whose head at a word, If he were present, I could finely strike off— You may report that all things are ready. Eubulus. I go with an heavy heart to report it. Ah woful Pithias! Full near now is thy misery. [Exit. Gronno. I marvel very much, under what constellation All hangmen are born, for they are hated of all, beloved of none: Which hatred is showed by this point evidently: The hangman always dwells in the vilest place of the city. That such spite should be, I know no cause why, Unless it be for their office’s sake, which is cruel and bloody. Yet some men must do it to execute laws. Me-think they hate me without any just cause. But I must look to my toil; Pithias must lose his head at one blow, Else the boys will stone me to death in the street, as I go. But hark, the prisoner cometh, and the king also: I see there is no help, Pithias his life must forego.

Dionysius. Bring forth Pithias, that pleasant companion, Which took me at my word, and became pledge for Damon. It pricketh[138] fast upon noon, I do him no injury, If now he lose his head, for so he requested me, If Damon return not, which now in Greece is full merry: Therefore shall Pithias pay his death, and that by and by. He thought belike, if Damon were out of the city, I would not put him to death for some foolish pity: But seeing it was his request, I will not be mock’d, he shall die; Bring him forth.

Snap. Give place; let the prisoner come by; give place. Dionysius. How say you, sir; where is Damon, your trusty friend? You have play’d a wise part, I make God a vow: You know what time a day it is; make you ready. Pithias. Most ready I am, mighty king, and most ready also For my true friend Damon this life to forego, Even at your pleasure. Dionysius. A true friend! a false traitor, that so breaketh his oath! Thou shalt lose thy life, though thou be never so loth. Pithias. I am not loth to do whatsoever I said, Ne at this present pinch of death am I dismay’d: The gods now I know have heard my fervent prayer, That they have reserved me to this passing great honour, To die for my friend, whose faith even now I do not mistrust; My friend Damon is no false traitor, he is true and just: But sith he is no god, but a man, he must do as he may, The wind may be contrary, sickness may let him,[140] or some misadventure by the way, Which the eternal gods turn all to my glory, That fame may resound how Pithias for Damon did die: He breaketh no oath which doth as much as he can, His mind is here, he hath some let, he is but a man. That he might not return of all the gods I did require, Which now to my joy do[141] grant my desire. But why do I stay any longer, seeing that one man’s death May suffice, O king, to pacify thy wrath? O thou minister of justice, do thine office by and by, Let not thy hand tremble, for I tremble not to die. Stephano, the right pattern of true fidelity, Commend me to thy master, my sweet Damon, and of him crave liberty When I am dead, in my name; for thy trusty services Hath well deserved a gift far better than this. O my Damon, farewell now for ever, a true friend, to me most dear; Whiles life doth last, my mouth shall still talk of thee, And when I am dead, my simple ghost, true witness of amity, Shall hover about the place, wheresoever thou be. Dionysius. Eubulus, this gear is strange; and yet because Damon hath fals’d his faith, Pithias shall have the law. Gronno, despoil him, and eke dispatch him quickly. Gronno. It shall be done; since you came into this place, I might have stroken off seven heads in this space. By’r Lady, here are good garments, these are mine, by the rood! It is an evil wind that bloweth no man good. Now, Pithias, kneel down, ask me blessing like a pretty boy, And with a trice thy head from thy shoulders I will convey.

Damon. Stay, stay, stay! for the king’s advantage, stay! O mighty king, mine appointed time is not yet fully pass’d; Within the compass of mine hour, lo, here I come at last. A life I owe, and a life I will you pay: O my Pithias, my noble pledge, my constant friend! Ah! woe is me! for Damon’s sake, how near were thou to thy end! Give place to me, this room is mine, on this stage must I play. Damon is the man, none ought but he to Dionysius his blood to pay. Gronno. Are you come, sir? you might have tarried, if you had been wise: For your hasty coming you are like to know the price. Pithias. O thou cruel minister, why didst not thou thine office? Did I not beg thee make haste in any wise? Hast thou spared to kill me once, that I may die twice? Not to die for my friend is present death to me; and alas! Shall I see my sweet Damon slain before my face? What double death is this? but, O mighty Dionysius, Do true justice now: weigh this aright, thou noble Eubulus; Let me have no wrong, as now stands the case: Damon ought not to die, but Pithias: By misadventure, not by his will, his hour is past; therefore I, Because he came not at his just time, ought justly to die: So was my promise, so was thy promise, O king, All this court can bear witness of this thing. Damon. Not so, O mighty king: to justice it is contrary, That for another man’s fault the innocent should die: Ne yet is my time plainly expired, it is not fully noon. Of this my day appointed, by all the clocks in the town. Pithias. Believe no clock, the hour is past by the sun. Damon. Ah my Pithias, shall we now break the bonds of amity? Will you now overthwart me, which heretofore so well did agree? Pithias. My Damon, the gods forbid but we should agree; Therefore agree to this, let me perform the promise made for thee. Let me die for thee: do me not that injury, Both to break my promise, and to suffer me to see thee die, Whom so dearly I love: this small request grant me, I shall never ask thee more, my desire is but friendly. Do me this honour, that fame may report triumphantly, That Pithias for his friend Damon was contented to die. Damon. That you were contented for me to die, fame cannot deny; Yet fame shall never touch me with such a villainy, To report that Damon did suffer his friend Pithias for him guiltless to die; Therefore content thyself, the gods requite thy constant faith, None but Damon’s blood can appease Dionysius’ wrath. And now, O mighty king, to you my talk I convey; Because you gave me leave my worldly things to stay, To requite that good turn, ere I die, for your behalf this I say, Although your regal state dame Fortune decketh so, That like a king in worldly wealth abundantly ye flow, Yet fickle is the ground whereon all tyrants tread, A thousand sundry cares and fears do haunt their restless head: No trusty band, no faithful friends do guard thy hateful state, And why? whom men obey for deadly fear, sure them they deadly hate. That you may safely reign, by love get friends, whose constant faith Will never fail, this counsel gives poor Damon at his death: Friends are the surest guard for kings, gold in time does[142] wear away, And other precious things do fade, friendship will never decay. Have friends in store therefore, so shall you safely sleep; Have friends at home, of foreign foes so need you take no keep. Abandon flatt’ring tongues, whose clacks truth never tell; Abase the ill, advance the good, in whom dame virtue dwells; Let them your playfellows be: but O, you earthly kings, Your sure defence and strongest guard stands chiefly in faithful friends: Then get you friends by liberal deeds; and here I make an end. Accept this counsel, mighty king, of Damon, Pithias’ friend. O my Pithias! now farewell for ever, let me kiss thee, ere I die, My soul shall honour thee, thy constant faith above the heavens shall fly. Come, Gronno, do thine office now; why is thy colour so dead? My neck is so short, that thou wilt never have honesty in striking off this head.[143] Dionysius. Eubulus, my spirits are suddenly appalled, my limbs wax weak: This strange friendship amazeth me so, that I can scarce speak. Pithias. O mighty king, let some pity your noble heart meve; You require but one man’s death, take Pithias, let Damon live. Eubulus. O unspeakable friendship! Damon. Not so, he hath not offended, there is no cause why My constant friend Pithias for Damon’s sake should die. Alas, he is but young, he may do good to many. Thou coward minister, why dost thou not let me die? Gronno. My hand with sudden fear quivereth. Pithias. O noble king, show mercy upon Damon, let Pithias die. Dionysius. Stay, Gronno, my flesh trembleth. Eubulus, what shall I do? Were there ever such friends on earth as were these two? What heart is so cruel that would divide them asunder? O noble friendship, I must yield; at thy force I wonder. My heart this rare friendship hath pierc’d to the root, And quenched all my fury: this sight hath brought this about, Which thy grave counsel, Eubulus, and learned persuasion could never do. [To Damon and Pithias] O noble gentlemen, the immortal gods above Hath made you play this tragedy, I think, for my behoof: Before this day I never knew what perfect friendship meant. My cruel mind to bloody deeds was full and wholly bent: My fearful life I thought with terror to defend, But now I see there is no guard unto a faithful friend, Which will not spare his life at time of present need: O happy kings, who in[144] your courts have two such friends indeed! I honour friendship now, which that you may plainly see, Damon, have thou thy life, from death I pardon thee; For which good turn, I crave, this honour do me lend, O friendly heart, let me link with you, to you[145] make me the third friend. My court is yours; dwell here with me, by my commission large, Myself, my realm, my wealth, my health, I commit to your charge: Make me a third friend, more shall I joy in that thing, Than to be called, as I am, Dionysius the mighty king. Damon. O mighty king, first for my life most humble thanks I give, And next, I praise the immortal gods that did your heart so meve, That you would have respect to friendship’s heavenly lore, Foreseeing well he need not fear which hath true friends in store. For my part, most noble king, as a third friend, welcome to our friendly society; But you must forget you are a king, for friendship stands in true equality. Dionysius. Unequal though I be in great possessions, Yet full equal shall you find me in my changed conditions. Tyranny, flattery, oppression, lo, here I cast away; Justice, truth, love, friendship, shall be my joy: True friendship will I honour unto my life’s end; My greatest glory shall be to be counted a perfect friend. Pithias. For this your deed, most noble king, the gods advance your name, And since to friendship’s lore you list your princely heart to frame, With joyful heart, O king, most welcome now to me, With you will I knit the perfect knot of amity: Wherein I shall instruct you so, and Damon here your friend, That you may know of amity the mighty force, and eke the joyful end: And how that kings do stand upon a fickle ground, Within whose realm at time of need no faithful friends are found. Dionysius. Your instruction will I follow; to you myself I do commit. Eubulus, make haste to fet new apparel, fit For my new friends. Eubulus. I go with joyful heart. O happy day! [Aside.] [Exit. Gronno. I am glad to hear this word. Though their lives they do not lese, It is no reason[146] the hangman should lose his fees: These are mine, I am gone with a trice. [Exit.

Dionysius. Put on these garments now; go in with me, the jewels of my court. Damon and Pithias. We go with joyful hearts. Stephano. O Damon, my dear master, in all this joy remember me. Dionysius. My friend Damon, he asketh reason. Damon. Stephano, for thy good service be thou free. [Exeunt Dion.[147] Stephano. O most happy, pleasant, joyful, and triumphant day! Poor Stephano now shall live in continual play:[148] Vive le roy, with Damon and Pithias, in perfect amity. Vive tu, Stephano, in thy pleasant liberality:[149] Wherein I joy as much as he that hath a conquest won, I am a free man, none so merry as I now under the sun. Farewell, my lords, now the gods grant you all the sum of perfect amity, And me long to enjoy my long-desired liberty. [Exit.

Away, villain! away, you flatt’ring parasite! Away, the plague of this court! thy filed tongue, that forged lies, No more here shall do hurt: away, false sycophant! wilt thou not? Carisophus. I am gone, sir, seeing it is the king’s pleasure. Why whip ye me alone? a plague take Damon and Pithias! since they came hither, I am driven to seek relief abroad, alas! I know not whither. Yet, Eubulus, though I be gone, here after time shall try, There shall be found even in this court as great flatterers as I. Well, for a while I will forego the court, though to my great pain: I doubt not but to spy a time, when I may creep in again. [Exit. Eubulus. The serpent that eats men alive, flattery, with all her brood, Is whipp’d away in princes’ courts, which yet did never good. What force, what mighty power true friendship may possess, To all the world Dionysius’ court now plainly doth express: Who since to faithful friends he gave his willing ear, Most safely sitteth on his seat, and sleeps devoid of fear. Purged is the court of vice, since friendship ent’red in, Tyranny quails, he studieth now with love each heart to win: Virtue is had in price, and hath his just reward; And painted speech, that gloseth for gain, from gifts is quite debarr’d. One loveth another now for virtue, not for gain; Where virtue doth not knit the knot, there friendship cannot reign; Without the which no house, no land, no kingdom can endure, As necessary for man’s life as water, air, and fire, Which frameth the mind of man all honest things to do. Unhonest things friendship ne craveth, ne yet consents thereto. In wealth a double joy, in woe a present stay, A sweet companion in each state true friendship is alway: A sure defence for kings, a perfect trusty band, A force to assail, a shield to defend the enemies’ cruel hand; A rare and yet the greatest gift that God can give to man; So rare, that scarce four couple of faithful friends have been, since the world began. A gift so strange and of such price, I wish all kings to have; But chiefly yet, as duty bindeth, I humbly crave, True friendship and true friends, full fraught with constant faith, The giver of all friends, the Lord, grant her, most noble Queen Elizabeth.

The strongest guard that kings can have, Are constant friends their state to save; True friends are constant both in word and deed, True friends are present, and help at each need; True friends talk truly, they glose for no gain, When treasure consumeth, true friends will remain; True friends for their true prince refuseth not their death: The Lord grant her such friends, most noble Queen Elizabeth. Long may she govern in honour and wealth, Void of all sickness, in most perfect health; Which health to prolong, as true friends require, God grant she may have her own heart’s desire: Which friends will defend with most steadfast faith, The Lord grant her such friends, most noble Queen Elizabeth.

“Ye Learned Muses nine, and sacred Sisters all, Now lay your cheereful Cithrons downe and to lamenting fall. Rent off those garlandes greene, doe laurel leaves away, Remove the myrtill from your browes, and stint on strings to play; For he that led the daunce, the chiefest of your traine, I meane the man that Edwards height, by cruell death is slaine. Ye courtyers chaunge your cheere, lament in wailfull wise, For now your Orpheus hath resignd, in clay his Carcas lies. O ruth, he is bereft, that whilst he liued heere, For Poet’s Pen and passing Wit, could haue no Englishe Peere. His vaine in Verse was such, so stately eke his stile, His feate in forging sugred Songs with cleane and curious file; As all the learned Greekes and Romaines would repine, If they did live againe, to vewe his Verse with scornefull eine.”

“Lovers of wisdom are termed philosophie.”

“There thou mayst be called a knave in grane, And where knaves be scant thou mayst go for twayne.”

“Let us that are unhurt and whole, Fall on, and happy man be’s dole.”

“Please you we many contrive this afternoon?”

“This castle hath a pleasant seat.”

“Dic mihi musa virum captæ post tempora Trojæ, Multorum homines mores qui vidit et urbes.”

“I wyll lay one mouth for you to Dionysius,” &c.,

“They would honour friendship, and not for commodity.”

“Commodity, the bias of the world.”

“Fondess it were for any, being free, To covet fetters, though they golden be.”

“Might not be found a ranker franion.”

“A faire franion fit for such a pheere.”—S.

“You codshed, you cracke-rope, you chattering pye.” —Apius and Virginia, sign. B.

“Then let him be led through every streete in the town, That every crackrope may fling rotten egs at the clown.”

“Even heere with a faire pantacle I will you disgrace,”

“When she his flask and touch-box set on fire.”

“A pamphlet was of proverbs penn’d by Polton Wherein he thought all sorts included were; Until one told him, Bate m’ an ace, quoth Bolton: Indeed (said he) that proverb is not there.”

“From thence shoot the bridge child, to the Cranes of the Vintry, And see there the gimblets how they make their entry!”

“Golden time doo wear away.”

“O happie kinges within your courtes,” &c.—Collier.

Qui[152] cupis æthereas et summas scandere sedes, Vim simul ac fraudem discute, care, tibi. Fraus hic nulla juvat, non fortia facta juvabunt: Sola Dei tua te trahet tersa fides. Qui placet in terris, intactæ paludis instar, Vivere Virginiam nitore, virgo, sequi: Quos tulit et luctus, discas [et] gaudia magna, Vitæ dum Parcæ scindere fila parent. Huc ades, O virgo pariter moritura, sepulchro; Sic ait, et facies pallida morte mutat. Who doth desire the trump of fame to sound unto the skies, Or else who seeks the holy place where mighty Jove he lies, He must not by deceitful mind, nor yet by puissant strength, But by the faith and sacred life he must it win at length, And what she be that virgin’s life on earth would gladly lead The floods that Virginia did fall I wish her to read: Her dolor and her doleful loss, and yet her joys at death: Come, Virgins pure, to grave with me, quoth she with latest breath. You Lordlings, all that present be this Tragedy to hear, Note well what zeal and love herein doth well appear: And, ladies, you that linked are in wedlock bands for ever, Do imitate the life you see, whose fame will perish never. But Virgins you, O Ladies fair, for honour of your name. Do lead the life apparent here to win immortal fame. Let not the blinded God of Love, as poets term him so, Nor Venus with her venery, nor lechers, cause of woe, Your Virgins’ name to spot or file: dear dames, observe the life[153] That fair Virginia did observe, who rather wish[ed] the knife Of father’s hand her life to end, than spot her chastity: As she did wail, wail you her want, you maids of courtesy. If any by example here would shun that great annoy. Our Author would rejoice in heart, and we would leap for joy. Would gods that our endeavours may as well to please your ears, As is our author’s meaning here, then were we void of fears. But patiently we wish you bear with this our first attempt, Which surely will to do our best, then yield us no contempt: And as you please in patient wise our first for to receive, Ere long a better shall you win, if God do grant us leave.

Before the time that fortune’s lot did show each fate his doom, Or bird or beast, or fish or fowl, on earth had taken room, The gods they did decree to frame, the thing is ended now, The heavens and the planets eke, and moist from air to bow. Then framed they the man from mould and clay, and gave him time to reign, As seemed best their sacred minds to run and turn again, They framed also, after this, out of his tender side A piece of much formosity with him for to abide. From infancy to lusty youth, and so to reign awhile, And well to live, till Œtas he unwares do him beguile. Therewith to see these gifts of them on grounded cave to view, And daintily to deck them up, which after they may rue. Therefore I thank the gods above that yield to me such fate To link to me so just a spouse, and eke so loving mate. By her I have a virgin pure, an imp of heavenly race Both sober, meek and modest too, and virtuous in like case: To temple will I wend therefore to yield the gods their praise, For that they have thus luckily annexed to my days. But stay: behold the peerless sparks, whereof my tongue did talk, Approach in presence of my sight: to church I deem they walk. But stay I will, and shroud me secretly awhile To see what wit or counsel grave proceedeth from their style.

The pert and pricking prime of youth ought chastisement to have, But thou, dear daughter, needest not, thyself doth show thee grave: To see how Phœbus with his beams hath youth so much infested,[154] It doth me woe to see them crave the thing should be detested.[155] I draw to grave and nought can leave of thee to be desired, As much as duty to thy dear, as reason hath required: My sovereign[156] lord and friendly pheer[157] Virginius, father thine, To nurse as doth become a child, when bones are buried mine. Virginia.[158] Refell your mind of mourning plaints, dear mother, rest your mind, For though that duty dainty were, dame nature will me bind So much to do; and further force of Gods that rule the skies, The Globe,[159] and eke the Element, they would me else despise. Mater. Then if the gods have granted thee such grace to love thy sire, When time shall choose thee out a make, be constant, I require: Love, live, and like him well, before you grant him grace or faith, So shall your love continue long, experience thus he saith. Virginia. I grant, dear Dame, I do agree, When time shall so provide; But tender youth and infancy Doth rather wish me bide. What, should I lose Diana’s gift And eke the spring to shun, By which Acteon fatally His final race did run? Should I as abject be esteemed Throughout Parnassus hill, Or should my virgin’s name be filed, It were too great a skill. But yet it is unspotted, lo, Right well I do conceive, When wedlock doth require the same, With parents’ love and leave: Yet obstinate I will not be, But willing will me yield, When you command, and not before, Then duty shall me shield. Virginius. Ah gods, that rule and reign in heavens, in seas, in floods, in lands, Two couples such, I surely deem, you never made with hands. Ah gods, why do ye not compel each dame the like to show, And every imp of her again her duty thus to know? I cannot stay my tongue from talk, I needs must call my dear. O spouse, well-met, and daughter too, what news? how do you cheer? Mater. O dear Virginius, joy to me, O peerless spouse and mate, In health, I praise the gods, I am, and joyful for thy state. Virginius. Virginia, my daughter dear, How standeth all with thee? Virginia. Like happy state, as mother told. Virginius. Like joyful sight to me.[160] By the gods, wife, I joy me that have such a treasure, Such [a] gem and such [a] jewel, surmounting all measure: Such a happy spouse, such a fortunate dame, That no blot or stain can impair her fame, Against such an imp and graff of my tree, As clear doth surmount all others that be. Mater. Nay, rather, dear spouse, how much is my case, To be now advanced by such happy grace, Doth daily distil: my husband so loving, Granting and giving to all thing behoving, Joying in me and in the fruit of my womb: Who would not requite it, the gods yield their doom, And if it be I, the gods do destroy me, Rather than sin so sore should annoy me. Virginius. O wife, refell thy wishing for woe, Myself thy fau’t right well do know: And rather I wish myself to be slain Than thou or thy daughter ought woe should sustain. Virginia. O father, my comfort, O mother, my joy, O dear and O sovereign, do cease to employ Such dolorous talking, where dangers are none: Where joys are attendant, what needeth this moan? You matron, you spouse, you nurse and you wife, You comfort, you only the sum of his life: You husband, you [sweet]heart, you joy, and you pleasure, You king and you kaiser too, her[161] only treasure: You father, you mother, my life doth sustain, I your babe, I your bliss, I your health am again.[162] Forbear then your dolor, let mirth be frequented, Let sorrow depart, and not be attempted. Virginius. O wife, O spouse, I am content. Mater. O husband. Virginia. O father, we do consent. [Sing here.

The trustiest treasure in earth,[163] as we see, Is man, wife, and children in one to agree; Then friendly and kindly let measure be mixed With reason in season, where friendship is fixed.

When nature nursed first of all, young Alexander learned, Of whom the poets mention make, in judgment so discerned, O, what did want, that love procured, his vital end well near? This is the hope, where parents love their children, do not fear,

The trustiest treasure in earth, as we see Is man, wife, and children, &c.

What[164] time King Nisus would not let his daughter to be taught, Of any one correcting hand to virtue[165] to be brought, She, void of duty, cut his locks and golden tresses clear, Whereby his realm was overrun, and she was paid her hire.

The trustiest treasure in earth, as we see, Is man, wife, and children, &c.

When Dædalus from Crete did fly With Icarus his joy. He nought regarding father’s words, Did seek his own annoy: He mounted up into the skies, Whereat the gods did frown. And Phœbus sore his wings did fry, And headlong flings him down.

The trustiest treasure in earth, as we see, Is man, wife, and children, &c.

Then sith that partiality doth partly discord move, And hatred oftentimes doth creep, where overmuch we love; And if we love no whit at all, the faming trump will sound, Come, wife, come, spouse, come, daughter dear, let measure bear the ground.

The trustiest treasure in earth, as we see, Is man, wife, and children in one to agree; Then friendly and kindly let measure be mixed With reason in season, where friendship is fixed. Exeunt.[166]

Very well, Sir, very well, Sir; it shall be done, As fast as ever I can prepare: Who dips[167] with the devil, he had need have a long spoon, Or else full small will be his fare. Yet a proper gentleman I am, of truth: Yea, that may ye see by my long side-gown: Yea, but what am I? a scholar, or a schoolmaster, or else some youth. A lawyer, a student, or else a country clown: A broom-man, a basket-maker, or a baker of pies, A flesh or a fishmonger, or a sower of lies? A louse or a louser, a leek or a lark, A dreamer, a drumble,[168] a fire or a spark? A caitiff, a cutthroat, a creeper in corners, A hairbrain, a hangman, or a grafter of horners? By the gods, I know not how best to devise, My name or my property well to disguise. A merchant, a May-pole, a man or a mackerel, A crab or a crevis, a crane or a cockerel? Most of all these my nature doth enjoy; Sometime I advance them, sometime I destroy. A maid or a mussel-boat, a wife or a wild duck? As bold as blind bayard, as wise as a wood-cock. As fine as fi’pence, as proud as a peacock, As stout as a stockfish, as meek as a meacock. As big as a beggar, as fat as a fool, As true as a tinker, as rich as an owl: With hey-trick, how troll, trey-trip and trey-trace, Troll-hazard with a vengeance, I beshrew his knave’s face; For tro and troll-hazard keep such a range, That poor Haphazard was never so strange: But yet, Haphazard, be of good cheer, Go play and repast thee, man, be merry to-yere.[169] Though victual be dainty and hard for to get, Yet perhaps a number will die of the sweat:[170] Though it be in hazard, yet happily I may, Though money be lacking, yet one day go gay.

When, Maud, with a pestilence! what, mak’st thou no haste? Of barberry[171] incense belike thou wouldest taste! By the gods, I have stayed a full great while: My lord he is near at hand by this at the church-stile, And all for Maud mumble-turd, that mangpodding madge, By the gods, if she hie not, I’ll give her my badge.

Mansipula. What, drake-nosed drivel, begin you to flont? I’ll fry you in a faggot-stick, by Cock, goodman lout. You boaster, you bragger, you brawling knave, I’ll pay thee thy forty-pence, thou brawling slave My lady’s great business belike is at end, When you, goodman dawcock, lust for to wend. You cod’s-head, you crack-rope, you chattering pie, Have with ye, have at ye, your manhood to try. [Beat and hustle him.] Haphazard. What! hold your hands, masters. What! fie for shame, fie! What culling, what lulling, what stir have we here? What tugging, what lugging, what pugging by the ear. What, part and be friends, and end all this strife. Mansipulus. Nay, rather I wish her the end of my knife. Mansipula. Draw it, give me it, I will it receive, So that for to place it I might have good leave: By the gods, but for losing my land, life and living, It should be so placed he should have ill-thriving. Mansipulus. By the gods, how ungraciously the vixen she chatteth. Mansipula. And he even as knavishly my answer he patteth. Haphazard. Here is nought else but railing of words out of reason, Now tugging, now tattling, now muzzling in season. For shame! be contented, and leave off this brawling. Mansipulus. Content, for I shall repent it for this my tongue-wralling. Mansipula. Thou knave, but for thee, ere this time of day My lady’s fair pew had been strawed[172] full gay, With primroses, cowslips, and violets sweet, With mints and with marigolds, and margoram meet, Which now lieth uncleanly, and all ’long of thee: That a shame recompense thee for hindring of me! Mansipulus. Ah pretty prank-parnel, the cushion and book, Whereon he should read and kneel are present, here look. My lord, when he seeth me, he will cast such an eye, As pinch will my heart near ready to die. And thus wise and thus wise his hand will be walking, With thou, precious knave: away; get thee packing. [Here let him [pretend to] fight. Haphazard. Nay then, by the mass, it’s time to be knacking: No words at all, but to me he is pointing. Nay, have at you again: you shall have your anointing. Mansipula. Body of me, hold, if ye can! What, will you kill such a proper man? Haphazard. Nay, sure I have done, when women do speak. Why would the knave my patience so break? Mansipulus. Well, I must be gone, there is no remedy, For fear my tail makes buttons, by mine honesty. Haphazard. For reverence on your face, your nose and your chin. By the gods, have ye heard such an unmannerly villain? Mansipula. I never heard one so rank of rudeness. Mansipulus. In faith, it is but for lack of lewdness.[173] But here I burn day-light, while thus I am talking. Away, come, Mansipula, let us be walking. Mansipula. Contented, Mansipulus; have with thee with speed. Haphazard. Nay, stay yet, my friends, I am not agreed. Mansipula. We dare not tarry, by God, we swear. Haphazard. Nay, tarry, take comfort with you for to bear: It is but in hazard, and if you be miss’d, And so it may happen you feel not his fist. Perhaps he is stay’d by talk with some friend: It is but in hazard: then sing, ere you wend. Let hope be your helper, your care to defend. Mansipulus. By hap or by hazard we sing, ere we cry; Then sing, let us say so, let sorrow go by. Mansipula. We can be but beaten, that is the worst.

What how, Mansipulus! thou knave, art thou curs’d? My lord standeth talking, and I gape for thee. Come away, with a wannion! run, haste and hie. Mansipulus. Nay, hearken, Subservus, stay, I pray thee: Let us have a song, and then have with thee. Subservus. Content, if thou hie thee.

Hope so, and hap so, in hazard of threat’ning, The worst that can hap, lo, in end is but beating.

What, if my lording do chance for to miss me, The worst that can happen is, cudgel will kiss me: In such kind of sweetness, I swear by God’s mother, It will please me better, it were on some other. [All.] With thwick thwack, with thump thump, With bobbing and bum, Our side-saddle shoulders shall shield that doth come. Hope so, and hap so, in hazard, &c.

If[174] case that my lady do threaten my case, No cause to contrary, but bear her a space, Until she draw home, lo, where so she will use me, As Doctors doth doubt it, how I should excuse me. [All.] With thwick thwack, with thump thump, With bobbing and bum, Our side-saddle shoulders shall shield that doth come. Hope so, and hap so, in hazard, &c.

What, if your company cause me have woe, I mind not companions so soon to forego. Let hope hold the helmet, till brunt it be past, For blows are but buffets and words but a blast. [All.] With thwick thwack, with thump thump, With bobbing and bum, Our side-saddle shoulders shall shield that doth come. Hope so, and hap so, in hazard, &c.

Then let us be merry, it is but by hap, A hazardly chance may harbour a clap: Bestir ye, be merry, be glad and be joying, For blows are but buffets and small time annoying. [All.] With thwick thwack, with thump thump, With bobbing and bum, Our side-saddle shoulders shall shield that doth come. Hope so, and hap so, in hazard, &c. [The end of the song.

Haphazard, farewell: the gods do thank thee. [Exeunt.

Haphazard. Farewell, my friends, farewell, go prank ye. By the gods, Haphazard, these men have tried thee: Who said thou wast no man, sure they belied thee. By Jove, master merchant, by sea or by land, Would get but small argent, if I did not stand His very good master, I may say to you, When he hazards in hope what hap will ensue. In court I am no man:—by Cock, sir, ye lie— A ploughman, perhaps, or ere that he die, May hap be a gentleman, a courtier or captain; And hap may so hazard he may go begging: Perhaps that a gentleman, heir to great land, Which selleth his living for money in hand, In hazard it is the buying of more: Perhaps he may ride, when spent is his store. Hap may so hazard, the moon may so change, That men may be masters, and wives will not range: But in hazard it is in many a grange, Lest wives wear the cod-piece, and maidens go strange.[175] As peacocks sit perking by chance in the plumtree; So maids would be masters by the guise of this country. Haphazard each state full well that he marks, If hap the sky fall, we may hap to have larks. Well, fare ye well now for better or worse: Put hands to your pockets, have mind to your purse. [Exit.

The furrowed face of fortune’s force my pinching pain doth move: I, settled ruler of my realm, enforced am to love. Judge Appius I, the princeliest judge that reigneth under sun, And have been so esteemed long, but now my force is none: I rule no more, but ruled am; I do not judge but am judged; By beauty of Virginia my wisdom all is trudged. O peerless dame, O passing piece, O face of such a feature, That never erst with beauty such matched was by nature. O fond Apelles, prattling fool, why boasteth thou so much, The famous’t piece thou mad’st in Greece, whose lineaments were such? Or why didst thou, deceived man, for beauty of thy work, In such a sort with fond desire, where no kind life did lurk, With raging fits, thou fool, run mad, O fond Pigmalion? Yet sure, if that thou sawest my dear, the like thou could’st make none: Then what may I? O gods above, bend down to hear my cry, As once ye[176] did to Salmacis, in pond hard Lycia by. O, that Virginia were in case as sometime Salmacis, And in Hermophroditus stead myself might seek my bliss! Ah gods, would I unfold her arms complecting of my neck? Or would I hurt her nimble hand, or yield her such a check? Would I gainsay her tender skin to bathe, where I do wash, Or else refuse her soft, sweet lips to touch my naked flesh? Nay! O, the gods do know my mind, I rather would require To sue, to serve, to crouch, to kneel, to crave for my desire. But out, ye gods! ye bend your brows, and frown to see me fare; Ye do not force my fickle fate, ye do not weigh my care. Unrighteous and unequal gods, unjust and eke unsure, Woe worth the time ye made me live to see this hapless hour! Did Iphis hang himself for love of lady not so fair? Or else did Jove the cloudy mists bend down from lightsome air? Or as the poets mention make of Inach’s daughter meek, For love did he, too, make a cow, whom Inach long did seek? Is love so great to cause the quick to enter into hell, As stout Orpheus did attempt, as histories do tell? Then what is it that love cannot? why, love did pierce the skies: Why, Pheb and famous Mercury with love had blinded eyes. But I, a judge, of grounded years, shall reap to me such name, As shall resound dishonour great with trump of careless fame. O, that my years were youthful yet, or that I were unwedded!

Why, cease, Sir Knight, for why perhaps of you she shall be bedded: For follow my counsel, so may you me please, That of careful resurging your heart shall have ease. Appius. O thundering gods, that threaten ire And plague for each offence, Yourselves, I deem, would counsel crave In this so fit pretence: And eke your nimble stretched arms With great rewards would fly, To purchase fair Virginia, So dear a wight, to me. And, friend, I swear by Jupiter, And eke by Juno’s seat, And eke by all the mysteries, Whereon thou canst entreat, Thou shalt possess and have, I will thee grant and give, The greatest part of all my realm, For aye thee to relieve. Haphazard. Well then, this is my counsel, thus standeth the case; Perhaps such a fetch as may please your grace: There is no more ways,[177] but hap or hap not, Either hap or else hapless, to knit up the knot: And if you will hazard to venter what falls, Perhaps that Haphazard will end all your thralls. Appius. I mean so, I will so, if thou do persuade me, To hap or to hazard what thing shall invade me? I King and I Kaiser, I rule and overwhelm; I do what it please me within this my realm. Wherefore in thy judgment see that thou do enter: Hap life or hap death, I surely will venter. Haphazard. Then this and in this sort standeth the matter: What need many words, unless I should flatter? Full many there be will hazard their life, Happ’ly to ease your grace of all your strife. Of this kind of conspiracy now let us common.[178] Some man Virginius before you must summon, And say that Virginia is none of his daughter, But that Virginius by night away caught her: Then charge you the father his daughter to bring; Then do you detain her, till proved be the thing: Which well you may win her, she present in house. It is but haphazard, a man or a mouse.

Appius. I find it, I mind it, I swear that I will, Though shame or defame do happen, no skill.[179] But out, I am wounded: how am I divided! Two states of my life from me are now glided; For Conscience he pricketh me contemned, And Justice saith, judgment would have me condemned: Conscience saith, cruelty sure will detest me; And Justice saith, death in th’ end will molest me: And both in one sudden me-thinks they do cry, That fire eternal my soul shall destroy. Haphazard. Why, these are but thoughts, man: why, fie for shame, fie! For Conscience was careless and sailing by seas, Was drowned in a basket and had a disease, Sore moved for pity, when he would grant none, For being hard-hearted was turned to a stone: And sailing by Sandwich he sank for his sin. Then care not for conscience the worth of a pin. And judgment judge[d] Justice to have a reward For judging still justly, but all now is marr’d; For gifts they are given where judgment is none. Thus judgment and justice a wrong way hath gone. Then care not for Conscience the worth of a fable; Justice is no man, nor nought to do able. Appius. And sayest thou so, my ’sured friend? then hap as hap shall it: Let Conscience grope and judgment crave, I will not shrink one whit. I will persever in my thought: I will deflower her youth; I will not sure reverted be, my heart shall have no ruth. Come on, proceed, and wait on me, I will, hap woe or wealth: Hap blunt, hap sharp, hap life, hap death: th[r]ough Haphazard be of health. Haphazard. At hand (quoth pick-purse) here ready am I. See well to the cut-purse: be ruled by me. [Exeunt.

Conscience. O clear unspotted gifts of Jove, How haps thou art refused? O Conscience clear, what cruel mind Thy truth hath thus misused? I spotted am by wilful will, By lawless love and lust, By dreadful danger of the life, By faith that is unjust, Justice. Ah gift of Jove, Ah Fortune’s face, Ah state of steady life! I Justice am, and prince of peers, The end of laws and strife: A guider of the common weal, A guardian[181] to the poor; And yet hath filthy lust suppress’d My virtues in one hour. Well, well, this is the most to trust, In end we shall aspire To see the end of these our foes With sword and eke with fire. Conscience. O help, ye gods, we members require. [Exeunt.

When gain is no grandsire,[182] And gauds nought set by; Nor puddings nor pie-meat Poor knaves will come nigh, Then hap and Haphazard Shall have a new coat. And so it may happen To cut covetousness’ throat. Yea, then shall Judge Appius Virginia obtain, And geese shall crack mussels Perhaps in the rain: Larks shall be leverets, And skip to and fro; And churls shall be cods-heads, Perhaps and also. But peace, for man’s body! Haphazard be mum! Fie, prattling noddy, Judge Appius is come.

The furies fell of Limbo lake My princely days do short: All drown’d in deadly ways I live, That once did joy in sport. I live and languish in my life, As doth the wounded deer. I thirst, I crave, I call and cry. And yet am nought the near:[183] And yet I have that me so match Within the realm of mine: But (Tantalus amids my care) I hunger—starve, and pine. As Sisyphus, I roll the stone In vain to top of hill, That ever more uncertainly Revolving slideth still. O, if to her ’twere as to me,[184] What labours would I fly, What raging seas would I not plough To her commodity? But out alas, I doubt it sore, Lest drowsy Morpheus[185] His slumb’ry kingdoms planted hath With dews unbeauteous.[186] O gods above that rule the skies: Ye babes that brag in bliss: Ye goddesses, ye Graces, you, What burning brunt is this? Bend down your ire, destroy me quick. Or else to grant me grace, No more, but that my burning breast Virginia may embrace.[187] If case your ears be dead and deaf, The fiend and spirits below, You careless carls of Limbo lake, Your forced mights do show. Thou caitif king of darksome dens, Thou Pluto, plagued knave, Send forth thy sacred vengeance straight, Consume them to the grave, That will not aid my case— Claudius. Content, and if it like your grace, I will attempt the deed: I summon will Virginius Before your seat with speed. Haphazard. Do so, my lord: be you not afraid, And so you may happen to hazard the maid: It is but in hazard and may come by hap: Win her or lose her, try you the trap. Appius. By the gods, I consent to thee, Claudius, now; Prepare thee in haste Virginius unto. Charge him, command him, upon his allegiance, With all kind of speed to yield his obeisance, Before my seat in my consistory, Subpœnâ of land, life and treasury. No let, no stay, nor ought perturbance Shall cause me to omit the furtherance Of this my weighty charge. [Here let Claudius go out with Haphazard. Appius. Well, now I range at large my will for to express; For look, how Tarquin Lucrece fair by force did once oppress, Even so will I Virginia use. [Here let Conscience speak within. Judge Appius, prince, O stay, refuse; Be ruled by thy friend! What bloody death with open shame Did Tarquin gain in end? Appius. Whence does this pinching sound descend? Conscience. From contrite Conscience, pricked on By member of thy life, Inforced for to cry and call, And all to end our strife. Appius. Who art thou then? declare; be brief! Conscience. Not flesh nor filthy lust I am, But secret Conscience I, Compell’d to cry with trembling soul, At point near-hand to die. Appius. Why, no disease hath me approach’d, no grief doth make me grudge, But want of fair Virginia, whose beauty is my judge: By her I live, by her I die, for her I joy or woe, For her my soul doth sink or swim, for her I swear I go. Conscience. Ah gods, what wits doth reign! and yet to you unknowen, I die the death, and soul doth sink this filthy flesh hath sowen. Appius. I force it not; I will attempt: I stay for Claudius here; Yet will I go to meet with him, to know what news and cheer.

Haste for a hangman in hazard of hemp: Run for a ridduck, there is no such imp. Claudius is knocking with hammer and stone At Virginius’ gate, as hard as he can lay on. By the gods, my masters, Haphazard is hardy, For he will run rashly, be they never so many: Yea, he will sing sow’s snout, and snap with the best. But peace! who comes yonder, that jolly good guest?

When men will seem misdoubtfully Without an why to call and cry, And fearing with temerity its jeopardy of liberty, We wish him to take to cheer his heart Haphazard, Bold [as] blind bayard. A fig for his uncourtesy That seeks to shun good company. Mansipulus. What if case that cruelty should bustle me and jostle me, And Holywand should tickle me for keeping of good company, I’ll follow, by my honesty, hap Haphazard, bold [as] blind bayard. A fig for his uncourtesy that seeks to shun good company.

When men will seem misdoubtfully Without an why to call and cry, &c. Mansipula. Never was that mistress so furious nor curious, Nor yet her blows so boisterous, nor roisterous, nor dolorous, But sure I would venture,[189] hap Haphazard, bold [as] blind bayard. A fig for his uncourtesy that seeks to shun good company.

When men will seem misdoubtfully Without an why to call and cry, &c. Haphazard. Then wend ye on and follow me, Mansipula, Mansipula, Let croping cares be cast away, come follow me, come follow me. Subservus is a jolly lout, brace Haphazard, bold [as] blind bayard. A fig for his uncourtesy that seeks to shun good company.

When men will seem misdoubtfully Without an why to call and cry, &c. [The end of the song.

Ay, by the gods, my masters, I told you plain, Who companies with me will desire me again. But how did ye speed, I pray ye show me? Was all well agreed? did nobody blow ye? Mansipulus. Mass, sir, hap did so happen, that my lord and master Stayed in beholding and viewing the pasture, Which when I perceived, what excuse did I make? I came in the crossway on the nearside the Forlake, Hard by Hodge’s half acre, at Gaffer Miller’s stile, The next way round about, by the space of a mile. And at Simkin’s side-ridge my lord stood talking, And angerly to me quoth he, Where hast thou been walking? Without any staggering, I had ready my lie: Out at bridge-meadow and at Benol’s lease (quoth I). Your fatlings are feeding well, sir, the gods be praised, A goodly loume of beef on them is already raised. Then out steps Francis Fabulator, that was never my friend: How pass’d you Carter’s hay-rick at Long Meadow end? There might one (quoth he) within this few days With a cast-net had given four knaves great essays, Under the hedge with a pair of new cards both rip and fledge. Is it true? quoth my Lord: will this gear never be left? This causes swearing and staring, prowling and theft. Well (quoth my lord) take heed, lest I find it, And so pass’d his way, and did no more mind it. Haphazard. By the gods, that was sport, yea, and sport alone. Mansipula. Yea; but I was in a worse case, by Saint John. My lady in church was set full devout, And hearing my coming she turned about; But as soon as I heard her snappishly sound, In this sort I crouched me down to the ground, And mannerly made,[190] as though I were sad.[191] As soon as the pew then strawed I had, She gave me a wink and frowardly frown, Whereby I do judge she would cudgel my gown. Then I did devise a pretty fine prank, A mean whereby to pick me a thank, Of Margery Mildon, the maid of the milk-house, And Stainer the stutter,[192] the guid[193] of the storehouse. Then was my lady’s anger well gone, And will be so still, and the truth be not known. Haphazard. By ’r Lady barefoot, this bakes trimly. Subservus. Nay, but I escaped more finely; For I under this hedge one while did stay. Then in this bush, then in that way: Then slip I behind them among all the rest, And seemed to commune, too, of things with the best: But so it did happen, that all things were well, But hazard it is, lest time will truth tell. Haphazard. Tut, tut, that was but by hap, and if it be so: Well, sith it was in hazard, then let it go. Subservus. Content, by my honesty: then farewell all woe. Mansipulus. Come out, dog, ye speak happily, of truth, if it be so. All speak. Now, Master Haphazard, fare you well for a season. Haphazard. Let my counsel at no time with you lie geason.[194] All speaketh. No, by the gods, he sure not so. Haphazard. Well, sith here is no company, have with ye to Jericho. [Exit.

What! so the gods they have decreed to work and do by me? I marvel why Judge Appius he such greetings lets me see: I served have his seat and state, I have maintained his weal, I have suppress’d the rebels stout, I bear to him such zeal; And now he sends to me such charge upon my life and lands Without demur or further pause, or ere ought thing[195] be scann’d, That I in haste with posting speed to court I do repair, To answer that alleged is before his judgment-chair. Some histories they do express, when such mishaps do fall, They should have taken many a one; I have not one but all. My jewels sometime precious do fade and bear no hue, My senses they do shun their course, my lights do burn as blue; My willing wits[196] are waxed slow, that once were swift in speed; My heart it throbs in wonderous sort, my nose doth often bleed: My dreadful dreams do draw my woe, and hateful hazard hale.[197] These tokens of evil hap, this is the old wive’s tale. But yet, O thou Virginius, whose hoary hairs are old, Did’st treason never yet commit, of this thou may’st be bold. In Mars his games, in martial feats thou wast his only aid. The huge Charibd his hazards[198] thou for him hast[199] oft assail’d: Was Scylla’s force by thee oft shunn’d, or yet Lady Circe’s[200] land, Pasiphae’s[201] child, the[202] Minotaur, did cause thee ever stand? To pleasure him, to serve thy liege,[203] to keep all things upright, Thou God above, then what is it that yieldeth me this spite? Sith nothing needs misdoubted be, where grounded cause is none, I enter will Judge Appius’ gate, rejecting care and moan. But stay, Virginius: lo, thy prince doth enter into place, O sovereign lord and rightful judge, the gods do save thy grace.

With tender heart, Virginius, thou welcome art to me. I sorry am to utter out the things I hear of thee; For Claudius, a subject here, a man of mickle fame, Appealeth thee before my court in deed of open shame. And though indeed I love thee so as thy deserts desire, Yet not so but I must judgment give, as justice doth require. Virginius. My lord, and reason good it is: your servant doth request No partial hand to aid his cause, no partial mind or breast. If ought I have offended you, your court or eke your crown, From lofty top of turret high precipitate me down. If treason none by me be done, or any fault committed. Let my accusers bear the blame, and let me be remitted. Appius. Good reason, too, Virginius. Come, Claudius, show thy mind: Let justice hear, if judgment may Virginius guilty find. Claudius. Thou sovereign lord and rightful judge, this[204] standeth now the case. In tender youth, not long agone, near sixteen years of space, Virginius a thrall of mine, a child and infant young, From me did take by subtle means, and keeps by arm full strong: And here before your grace I crave, that justice be extended, That I may have my thrall again, and faults may be amended. Virginius. Ah gods, that guide the globe above, what forged tales I hear! O Judge Appius, bend your ears, while this my crime I clear. She is my child, and of my wife her tender corpse did spring: Let all the country where I dwell bear witness of the thing. [Appius and Claudius go forth, but Appius speaketh this. Nay, by the gods, not so, my friend, I do not so decree: I charge thee here in pain of death thou bring the maid to me. In chamber close, in prison sound, she secret shall abide, And no kind of wight shall talk with her, until the truth be tried. This do I charge, this I command: in pain of death, let see, Without any let that she be brought as prisoner unto me. [Exit. [Here let Virginius go about the scaffold. Ah fickle fall, unhappy doom, O most uncertain fate,[205] That ever chance so churlishly, that never stay’d in state. What judge is this? what cruel wretch? what faith doth Claudius find? The gods do recompense with shame his false and faithless mind! Well, home I must, no remedy; where shall my soaking tears. Augment my woes, decrease my joys, while death do rid my fears.

Come, Ventus, come: blow forth thy blast: Prince Eol, listen well: The filthiest fact that ever was I, Rumour, now shall tell. You gods, bend down to hear my cry, Revengement duly show, Thy Rumour craves, bid[206] Claudius stay,[207] And bring Judge Appius low. That wicked man, that fleshly judge, Hath hired Claudius To claim a child, the only heir Of old Virginius: A virgin pure, a queen in life, Whose state may be deplored; For why the queen of chaste life Is like to be deflow’red By false Judge Appius, cruel wretch, Who straitly hath commanded, That she to keeping his be brought: Prince Pluto this demanded. To skies I fly, to blaze abroad The tromp of deep defame. Revenge, you gods, this Rumour craves, This blood and bloody shame. Have through the air! give place, you airs, This is my duty done. The gods confound such lecherers! Lo, Rumour, this I run. Virginius. O man, O mould, O muck, O clay! O hell, O hellish hound, O false Judge Appius, rabbling[208] wretch, is this thy treason found? Woe worth the man that gave the seed, whereby ye first did spring! Woe worth the womb that bare the babe to mean this bloody thing! Woe worth the paps that gave thee suck, woe worth the fosters eke: Woe worth all such as ever did thy health or liking seek! O, that these gravèd hairs[209] of mine were covered in the clay!

Let patience, dear father mine, your rigour something stay: Why do you wail in such a sort? why do you weep and moan? Virginius. O daughter dear and only heir, my life is near begone, And all for love of thee. Virginia. Ah, gods, how may this be? Dear father, do withdraw your dread, and let me know the cause: Myself will aid with life or death without demur or pause. Then tender your child that craveth this bound.[210] Virginius. O, hearken, dear daughter, attend thou my sound. Judge Appius, prick’d forth with filthy desire, Thy person as leman doth greatly require; And no kind of entreaty, no fear, nor no shame, Will he hear alleged, defending[211] the same. And straight without staying, in pain of my death, I must bring thee thither. Wherefore stop my breath. O sisters; I search, I seek, and I crave No more at your hands but death for to have, Rather than see my daughter deflow’red, Or else in ill sort so wildly devour’d. Virginia. O father, O friendship, O fatherly favour, Whose dulcet words so sweetly do savour, On knees I beseech thee to grant my request, In all things according as liketh thee best. Thou knowest, O my father, if I be once spotted, My name and my kindred then forth will be blotted: And if thou, my father, should die for my cause, The world would accompt me guilty in cause. Then rather, dear father, if it be thy pleasure, Grant me the death; then keep I my treasure, My lamp, my light, my life undefiled, And so may Judge Appius of [my] flesh be beguiled. This upon my knees with humble behest, Grant me, O father, my instant request. Virginius. Then rise up, my daughter: my answer do note From mouth of thy father, whose eyes do now float. O daughter, O dear, O darling, O dame, Dispatch me, I pray thee, regard not my name: But yet as thou sayest, sith remedy none, But leman thou must be, if I were gone, And better it is to die with good fame, Than longer to live to reap us but shame: But if thou do die no doubt is at all, But presently after myself follow shall, Then end without shame, so let us persever, With trump of good fame, so die shall we never. [Virginia here kneeleth. Then, tender arms, complect the neck: do dry thy father’s tears, You nimble hands, for woe whereof my loving heart it wears. Virginia. O father mine, refrain no whit your sharped knife to take From gilded[212] sheath my shame to end, and body dead to make. Let not the shameless bloody judge defile my virgin’s life; Do take my head, and send it him upon your bloody knife: Bid him imbrue his bloody hands in guiltless blood of me: I virgin die, he lecher lives; he was my end, you see. No more delays—lo, kiss me first, then stretch your strongest arm: Do rid my woe, increase my joy, do ease your child of harm. Virginius. O weary wits of woe or wealth, O feeble aged man, How can thy arm give such a blow! thy death I wish thee then! But sith that shame with endless trump will sound, if case thy joy By[213] means of false Judge Appius be, myself will thee destroy. Forgive me, babe, this bloody deed, and meekly take thy end. [Here let him proffer a blow. Virginia. The gods forgive thee, father dear! farewell, thy blow do bend. Yet stay a while, O father dear, for flesh to death is frail: Let first my wimple bind my eyes, and then thy blow assail. Now, father, work thy will on me, that life I may enjoy. [Here tie a handkercher about her eyes, and then strike off her head. Now stretch thy hand, Virginius, that loth would flesh destroy. O cruel hands, O[214] bloody knife, O man, what hast thou done? Thy daughter dear and only heir her vital end hath won. Come, fatal blade, make like despatch: come, Atropos: come, aid![215] Strike home, thou careless arm, with speed; of death be not afraid.

O noble knight, Virginius, do stay, be not dismay’d: I, curing Comfort, present am, your dolor [for] to aid. Virginius. Sith joy is gone, sith life is dead, What comfort can there be? No more! there is but deep despair, And deadly death to me. Comfort. No more, Sir Knight, but take the head, and wend a while with me: It shall be sent to court, for that Judge Appius may it see. In recompense of lecher’s lust this present let him have, And stay your corpse for certain space in coping from the grave: So shall you see the end of him and all his whole concent.[216] This will be comfort to your heart: Virginius, be content. Virginius. Of truth, even so, for comfort else I know right well is none, Wherefore I do consent with you: come on, let us be gone. But messenger myself will be, myself will give the gift. Come on, good Comfort, wend we then; there is no other shift. [Exeunt.

Well, hap as hap can, hap or no, In hazard it is, but let that go. I will, what so happen, pursue on still: Why, none there is living can let me my will. I will have Virginia; I will her deflow’r, Else rigorous sword her heart shall devour.

I came from Caleco even the same hour, And Hap was hired to hackney in hempstrid: In hazard he was of riding on beamstrid. Then, crow crop on tree-top, hoist up the sail, Then groaned their necks by the weight of their tail: Then did Carnifex put these three together, Paid them their passport for clust’ring thither. Appius. Why, how now, Haphazard, of what dost thou speak? Methinks in mad sort thy talk thou dost break. Those three words, chop all in one, Is Carnifex: that signifieth hangman. Peace! no such words before me do utter. Haphazard. Nay, I lie as still as a cat in a gutter. Go to, Judge Appius; go forward, good prince: Perhaps ye may have that the which will not blince. Appius. What is the man that liveth now so near to door of death, As I for lust of lady fair, whose lack will stop my breath? But long I shall not want her sight, I stay her coming here. O lucky light! lo, present here her father doth appear. O, how I joy! yet brag thou not; dame beauty bides behind. Virginius, where is the maid? how haps thou break my mind?

Ah wicked judge, the virgin chaste Hath sent her beauteous face, In recompense of lecher gain, To thee, so void of grace. She bids thee imbrue thy bloody hands And filthy lecherous mind With Venus’ damsels, void of shame, Where such thou haps to find. But thou as with Diana’s imps Shalt never be acquainted: They rather wish the naked knife Than virgin’s life attainted. And in[217] just proof whereof Behold Virginia’s head: She sought her fame, thou sought her shame: This arm hath smit her dead. Appius. O curst and cruel cankered churl, O carl unnatural; Which hast the seed of thine own loin[218] thrust forth to funeral! Ye gods, bend down your ire, do plague him for his deed, You sprites below, you hellish hounds, do give him gall for meed. Myself will see his latter end; I judge him to the death. Like death that fair Virginia took, the like shall stop his breath; The flashy[219] fiends of Limbo lake his ghost do so turmoil, That he have need of Charon’s help for all his filthy toil. Come, Justice, then; come on, Reward; come, aid me in my need. Thou wicked knight, shalt slaughtered[220] be with self-same knife with speed. Virginius. Sith she a virgin pure and chaste in heaven leads her life, Content I am to die with her, and die upon her knife. Appius. Come, Justice, then: come on, Reward, when Judgment now doth call.

We both are ready here at hand to work thy fatal fall. Justice [speaketh]. O gorgon judge, what lawless life hast thou most wicked led! Thy soaking sin hath sunk thy soul, thy virtues all are fled. Thou chaste and undefiled life did seek for to have spotted, And thy reward is ready here, by Justice now allotted. Reward. Thy just reward is deadly death; wherefore come, wend away: To death I straight will do thy corpse; then lust shall have his prey. Virginius, thou woful knight, come near and take thy foe. In prison [do] thou make him fast: no more let him do so. Let Claudius for tyranny be hanged on a tree. Virginius. Ah, right Reward: the gods be bless’d, this day I chance to see!

Haphazard. Why, how now, my lord Appius, what cheer? Why, where is my reward for this gear? Why did I ride, run, and revel, And for all my jaunting now made a javel? Why—run, sir knave, call me Claudius? Then—run with a vengeance, watch Virginius: Then—ride, sirrah; is Virginia at church? Then—gallop to see where her father doth lurch. Then—up, sirrah; now what counsel? Of dame beauty what news canst thou tell? Thus in hurly burly, from pillar to post, Poor Haphazard daily was toss’d; And now with Virginius he goes sadly walking, And nothing at all will listen my talking: But shall I be so used at his hands? As lief I were near in Limbo bands. That dronel, that drousy drakenosed drivel, He never learned his manners in Siville.[221] A judge may cause a gentleman—a gentleman? nay, a jack-herring, As honest as he that carries his hose on his neck for fear of wearing. A caitiff, a cut-throat, a churl worthy blame. I will serve him no longer, the devil give him shame! Yet, by the mouse-foot, I am not content, I will have a reward, sure, else will I repent. To master Reward I straightways will go: The worst that can hap is but a no. But sure I know his honesty is such, That he will recompense me with little or much: And well this proverb cometh in my head, By ’r lady, half a loaf is better than ne’er a whit of bread. Therefore hap and be happy,[222] hap that hap may, I will put it in hazard, I[’ll] give it assay. All hail, Master Reward and righteous Justice: I beseech you let me be recompensed too, according to my service; For why all this long time I have lived in hope. Reward. Then for thy reward, then, here is a rope. Haphazard. Nay, soft, my masters: by Saint Thomas of Trunions, I am not disposed to buy of your onions. A rope? (quoth you) away with that showing! It would grieve a man having two ploughs going. Nay, stay, I pray you, and let the cat wink: It is naught in dry summer for-letting my drink.[223] Justice. Let or let not, there is no remedy: hanging shall be thy reward verily. Haphazard. Is there nothing but hanging to my lot doth fall? Then take you my reward; much good do it you withal. I am not so hasty, although I be claiming, But that I can afford you the most of my gaining. I will set, let, grant, yield, permit and promise All the revenues to you of my service. I am friendly, I am kindly, I proffer you fair: You shall be my full executor and heir. Reward. Nay, make you ready first to die, by the rood, Then we will dispose it, as we think good: Then those that with you to this did consent, The like reward shall cause them repent. Justice. Nay, stay a while, Virginius is coming. Nay, soft, Haphazard, you are not so cunning, Thus to escape without punishment. [Haphazard presses to go forth, but is forced to stay.][224] Reward. No, certes, it is not so expedient.

O noble Justice, duty done, behold I come again, To show you that Appius he himself hath lewdly slain. As soon as he in prison was enclosed out of sight, He desperate for bloody deed did sle himself outright; And Claudius doth mercy crave, who did the deed for fear. Vouchsafe, O judge, to save his life, though country he forbear. Justice. We grant him grace at thy request, but banish him the land. And see that death be done outright on him that here doth stand. Haphazard. Nay, Master Virginius, [Take him by the hand.[225]] I crave not for service the thing worth ought: Hanging, quoth you? it is the last end of my thought. Fie for shame, fie—stay, by my father’s soul, Why, this is like to Tom Turner’s dole: Hang one man and save all the rest! Take part one with another: plain dealing is best. Reward. This is our dealing; thus deal we with thee. Take him hence, Virginius; go, truss him to a tree. Haphazard. Shall ye,[226] in a rope’s name? whither away with me? Virginius. Come, wend thou in haste thy death for to take, To the hangman I will lead thee, a quick despatch to make. Haphazard. Must I needs hang? by the gods, it doth spite me To think how crabbedly this silk lace will bite me. Then come, cousin Cutpurse, come, run, haste and follow me: Haphazard must hang; come, follow the livery. [Exit. Justice.. Well, wend we now: the final end of fleshly lust we see. Reward. Content: Reward is ready bent with Justice to agree.

O stay, you noble Justice, stay! Reward, do make no haste. We ladies three have brought the corse, in earth that must be placed. We have brought back Virginius the funeral to see. I grant him that the learned pen shall have the aid of me, To write in learned verse the honour of her name. Fame. And eke it shall resound by trump of me Dame Fame. [Here let Memory write on the tomb. I Memory will mind her life: her death shall ever reign Within the mouth and mind of man, from age to age again. Justice. And Justice, sure, will aid all those that imitate her life. Reward. And I Reward will punish those that move such dames to strife. Fame. Then sing we round about the tomb, in honour of her name. Reward. Content we are with willing mind to sing with sound of Fame.

As earthly life is granted none for evermore to reign, But denting death will cause them all to grant this world as vain; Right worshipful, sith sure it is that mortal life must vade, Do practise then to win his love, that all in all hath made. And by this poet’s feigning here example do you take Of Virginia’s life of chastity, of duty to thy make; Of love to wife, of love to spouse, of love to husband dear, Of bringing up of tender youth: all these are noted here. I doubt it not, right worshipful, but well you do conceive The matter that is ended now, and thus I take my leave: Beseeching God, as duty is, our gracious Queen to save The nobles and the commons eke, with prosperous life, I crave!

Agathon, he whose counsel wise To princes weal extended, By good advice unto a prince Three things he hath commended First is, that he hath government, And ruleth over men; Secondly, to rule with laws, Eke justice (saith he) then; Thirdly, that he must well conceive, He may not always reign: Lo, thus the rule unto a prince Agathon squared plain. Tully the wise, whose sapience In volumes great doth tell, Who in wisdom in that time Did many men excel, A prince (saith he) is of himself A plain and speaking law, The law, a schoolmaster divine, This by his rule I draw. The sage and witty Seneca His words thereto did frame; The honest exercise of kings, Men will ensue the same. But contrary-wise, if that a king Abuse his kingly seat, His ignomy and bitter shame In fine shall be more great. In Persia there reign’d a king, Who Cyrus hight by name, Who did deserve, as I do read, The lasting blast of fame: But he, when sisters three had wrought To shear his vital thread, As heir due to take the crown, Cambyses did proceed; He in his youth was trained up By trace of virtue’s lore, Yet (being king) did clean forget His perfect race before. Then cleaving more unto his will, Such vice did imitate, As one of Icarus his kind, Forewarning then did hate; Thinking that none could him dismay Ne none his facts could see; Yet at the last a fall he took, Like Icarus to be. Else as the fish, which oft had take The pleasant bait from hook, In safe did spring, and pierce the streams, When fisher fast did look, To hoist up from the wat’ry waves Unto the dried land, Then scap’d, at last by subtle bait Come to the fisher’s hand: Even so this king Cambyses here, When he had wrought his will, Taking delight the innocent His guiltless blood to spill; Then mighty Jove would not permit To prosecute offence, But what measure the king did meet, The same did Jove commence. To bring to end with shame his race, Two years he did not reign: His cruelty we will dilate, And make the matter plain; Craving that this may suffice now, Your patience to win: I take my way; behold, I see The players coming in.

My Council grave and sapient, With lords of legal train, Attentive ears towards bend, And mark what shall be sain. So you likewise, my valiant knight, Whose manly acts doth fly, By brute of fame the sounding trump Doth pierce the azure sky: My sapient words, I say, perpend, And so your skill dilate. You know that Mors vanquished hath Cyrus that king of state; And I, by due inheritance, Possess that princely crown, Ruling by sword of mighty force In place of great renown. You know, and often have heard tell, My father’s worthy facts; A manly Mars’ heart he bare, Appearing by his acts. And what, shall I to ground let fall My father’s golden praise? No, no; I mean for to attempt This fame more large to raise, In that that I, his son, succeed His kingly seat as due: Extend your counsel unto me In that I ask of you. I am the King of Persia, A large and fertile soil: The Egyptians against us repugn, As varlets slave and vile; Therefore I mean with Mars’ heart, With wars them to frequent, Them to subdue as captives mine, This is my heart’s intent: So shall I win honour’s delight, And praise of me shall go. My Council, speak; and lordings eke, Is it not best do so?

O puissant king, your blissful words Deserves abundant praise, That you in this do go about Your father’s fame to raise. O blissful day, that king so young Such profit should conceive; His father’s praise and his to win, From those that would deceive. Sure, my true and sovereign king, I fall before you prest, Answer to give as duty mine, In that your grace request. If that your heart addicted be, The Egyptians to convince, Through Mars’ aid the conquest won, Then deed of happy prince Shall pierce the skies unto the throne Of the supernal seat, And merit there a just reward Of Jupiter the great. But then your grace must not turn back From this pretenced will, For to proceed in virtuous life, Employ endeavour still; Extinguish vice, and in that cup To drink have no delight: To martial feats and kingly sports Fix all your whole delight,

My Council grave, a thousand thanks With heart I do you render. That you my case so prosperous Entirely do tender: I will not swerve from those your steps, Whereto you would me train. But now, my lord and valiant knight, With words give answer plain: Are you content with me to go The Mars’ games to try?