W. CAREW HAZLITT. (continued 3)

Yea, peerless prince, to aid your grace, Myself will live and die.

And I, for my hability, For fear will not turn back; But, as the ship against the rocks, Sustain and bide the wrack.

O willing hearts, a thousand thanks I render unto you: Strike up your drums with courage great; We will march forth even now.

Permit (O King) few words to hear, My duty serves no less; Therefore give leave to Council thine, His mind for to express.

Speak on, my Council, what it be; You shall have favour mine.

Then will I speak unto your grace, As duty doth me bind: Your grace doth mean for to attempt Of war the manly art; Your grace therein may hap receive, With others, for your part The dent of death: in those affairs All persons are alike: The heart courageous oftentimes His detriment doth seek; It’s best therefore for to permit A ruler of your land To sit and judge with equity, When things of right are scann’d.

My grace doth yield to this your talk, To be thus now it shall: My Knight, therefore prepare yourself Sisamnes for to call: A judge he is of prudent skill, Even he shall bear the sway, In absence mine, when from the land I do depart my way.

Your Knight before your grace even here Himself hath ready prest, With willing heart for to fulfil, As your grace made request. [Exit.

Pleaseth your grace, I judge of him To be a man right fit; For he is learned in the law, Having the gift of wit: In your grace’s precinct I do not view For it a meeter man: His learning is of good effect, Bring proof thereof I can. I do not know what is his life, His conscience hid from me, I doubt not but the fear of God Before his eyes to be.

Report declares, he is a man That to himself is nigh; One that favoureth much the world, And too much sets thereby: But this I say of certainty, If he your grace succeed, In your absence but for a while, He will be warn’d indeed No injustice for to frequent, No partial judge to prove, But rule all things with equity, To win your grace’s love.

Of that he shall a warning have My hests for to obey; Great punishment for his offence Against him will I lay.

Behold, I see him now aggress, And enter into place.

O puissant prince and mighty king, The gods preserve your grace! Your grace’s message came to me, Your will purporting forth: With grateful mind I it received, According to mine oath, Erecting then myself with speed, Before your grace’s eyes, The tenor of your princely will From you for to agnise.

Sisamnes, this the whole effect, The which for you I sent: Our mind it is to elevate, You to great preferment. My grace, and gracious Council eke, Hath chose you for this cause: In judgment you do office bear, Which have the skill in laws; We think that you accordingly By justice rule will deal, That for offence none shall have cause Of wrong you to appeal.

Abundant thanks unto your grace For this benignity: To you his Council in like case, With lords of clemency. What so your grace to me permits, If I therein offend, Such execution then commence, And use it to this end. That all other (by that my deed) Example so may take; To admonish them to flee the same, By fear it may them make.

Then according to your word, If you therein offend, I assure you even from my breast Correction shall extend. From Persia I mean to go[232] Into the Egypt land, Them to convince by force of arms, And win the upper hand. While I therefore absent shall be, I do you full permit, As governor in this my right, In that estate to sit, For to detect, and eke correct, Those that abuse my grace: This is the total of my will; Give answer in this case.

Unworthy much (O prince) am I, And for this gift unfit; But sith that it hath pleased your grace, That I in it must sit, I do avouch unto my death, According to my skill, With equity for to observe Your grace’s mind and will; And nought from it to swerve indeed, But sincerely to stay: Else let me taste the penalty, As I before did say.

Well then of this authority I give you full possession.

And I will it fulfil also, As I have made profession.

My Council, then, let us depart, A small stay to make: To Egypt land now forth with speed My voyage I will take. Strike up your drums us to rejoice, To hear the warlike sound: Stay you here, Sisamnes, judge, And look well to your bound. [Exeunt King, Lord, and Council.

Even now the king hath me extoll’d, And set me up aloft; Now may I wear the brodered guard, And lay in down-bed soft; Now may I purchase house and land, And have all at my will; Now may I build a princely place, My mind for to fulfil; Now may I abrogate the law, As I shall think it good; If any one me now offend, I may demand his blood. According to the proverb old, My mouth I will up make; Now it doth lie all in my hand, To leave or else to take; To deal with justice to my bound, And so to live in hope: But oftentimes the birds be gone, While one for nest doth grope. Do well or ill I dare avouch, Some evil on me will speak: No, truly yet I do not mean The king’s precepts to break; To place I mean for to return My duty to fulfil. [Exit.

Stand away, stand away, for the passion of God; Harnessed I am, prepared to the field: I would have been content at home to have bod, But I am sent forth with my spear and shield. I am appointed to fight against a snail,[233] And Wilkin Wren the ancient shall bear; I doubt not but against him to prevail, To be a man my deeds shall declare. If I overcome him, then a butterfly takes his part, His weapon must be a blue speckled hen: But you shall see me overthrow him with a fart, So without conquest he shall go home again. If I overcome him, I must fight with a fly, And a black pudding the fly’s weapon must be: At the first blow on the ground he shall lie, I will be sure to thrust him through the mouth to the knee. To conquest these fellows the man I will play,[234] Ha, ha, ha, now ye will make me to smile, To see, if I can all men beguile. Ha, my name? my name would you so fain know? Yea, i-wis, shall ye, and that with all speed: I have forgot it, therefore I cannot show; Ha, ha, now I have it, I have it indeed. My name is Ambidexter: I signify one That with both hands finely can play; Now with king Cambyses, and by and by gone: Thus do I run this and that way. For while I mean with a soldier to be, Then give I a leap to Sisamnes the judge; I dare avouch, ye shall his destruction see: To all kind of estates I mean for to trudge. Ambidexter, nay, he is a fellow if ye knew all: Cease for awhile; hereafter hear more ye shall.

Gog’s flesh and his wounds, these wars rejoice my heart; By his wounds, I hope to do well, for my part: By Gog’s heart, the world shall go evil, if I do not shift; At some old carl’s bouget I mean for to lift.

By his flesh, nose, eyes, and ears, I will venter void of all cares: He is not a soldier that doth fear any doubt; If that he would bring his purpose about.

Fear that fear list, it shall not be I: By Gog’s wounds, I will make some neck stand awry; If I lose my share, I swear by Gog’s heart, Then let another take up my part.

Yet I hope to come the richest soldier away.

If a man ask ye, ye may hap to say nay.

Let all men get what they can, not to lese I hope: Wheresoever I go in, each corner I will grope.

What, and ye run into the corner of some pretty maid?

To grope there, good fellow, I will not be afraid.

Gog’s wounds, what art thou that with us dost mell? Thou seemest to be a soldier, the truth to tell; Thou seemest to be harnessed, I cannot tell how: I think he came lately from riding some cow; Such a deformed slave did I never see: Ruff, dost thou know him? I pray thee, tell me,

No, by my troth, fellow Huff, I never see him before.

As for me I care not, if I never see him more. Come, let us run his arse against the post.

Ah, ye slaves, I will be with you at the host: Ah, ye knaves, I will teach ye how ye shall me deride. [Here let him swinge them about. Out of my sight; I can ye not abide. Now, goodman pouchmouth, I am a slave with you! Now have at ye afresh again even now: Mine arse against the post you will run? But I will make ye from that saying to turn.

I beseech ye heartily to be content.

I insure you, by mine honesty, no hurt we meant: Beside that, again, we do not know what ye are; Ye know, that soldiers their stoutness will declare. Therefore, if we have anything offended, Pardon our rudeness, and it shall be amended.

Yea, God’s pity, begin ye to entreat me? Have at ye once again! by the mass, I will beat ye. [Fight again.

Gog’s heart, let us kill him; suffer no longer. [Draw their swords.

Thou slave, we will see, if thou be the stronger.

Strike off his head at one blow: That we be soldiers, Gog’s heart, let him know.

O’ the passion of God, I have done, by mine honesty: I will take your part hereafter verily.

Then, content; let us agree.

Shake hands with me, I shake hands with thee: Ye are full of courtesy, that is the best; And you take great pain, ye are a mannerly guest. Why, masters, do you not know me? the truth to me tell—

No, trust us, not very well.

Why, I am Ambidexter, whom many soldiers do love.

Gog’s heart, to have thy company needs we must prove. We must play with both hands with our hostess and host, Play with both hands, and score on the post, Now and then with our captain for many a delay, We will not stick with both hands to play.

The honester man ye, ye may me trust.

What, is there no lads here that hath a lust To have a passing trull to help at their need?

Gog’s heart, she is come indeed. What, Mistress Meretrix? by his wounds, welcome to me.

What will you give me? I pray you, let me see.

By his heart, she looks for gifts by and by.

What, Master Ruff, I cry you mercy; The last time I was with you, I got a broken head, And lay in the street all night for want of a bed.

Gog’s wounds, kiss me, my trull so white. In thee I swear is all my delight; If thou shouldest have had a broken head for my sake, I would have made his head to ache.

What, Master Ambidexter? who looked for you?

Mistress Meretrix, I thought not to see you here now. There is no remedy; at meeting I must have a kiss.

What, man? I will not stick for that, by Giss. [Kiss.

So now, gramercy, I pray thee be gone.

Nay, soft, my friend; I mean to have one: Nay, soft; I swear, and if ye were my brother, Before I let go, I will have another. [Kiss, kiss, kiss.

Gog’s heart, the whore would not kiss me yet.

If I be a whore, thou art a knave, then it is quit.

But hear’st thou, Meretrix? with who this night wilt thou lie?

With him that giveth the most money.

Gog’s heart, I have no money in purse, ne yet in clout.

Then get thee hence, and pack like a lout.

Adieu, like a whore. [Exit Huff.

Farewell, like a knave.

Gog’s nails, Mistress Meretrix, now he is gone, A match ye shall make straight with me; I will give thee sixpence to lie one night with thee.

Gog’s heart, slave, dost thou think I am a six-penny jug? No, wis ye, Jack, I look a little more smug.

I will give her eighteenpence to serve me first.

Gramercy, Snuff, thou art not the worst.

By Gog’s heart, she were better be hanged, to forsake me, and take thee.

Were she so? that shall we see.

By Gog’s heart, my dagger into her I will thrust.

Ah, ye boy, ye would do it, and ye durst!

Peace, my masters; ye shall not fight: He that draws first, I will him smite.

Gog’s wounds, Master Snuff, are ye so lusty?

Gog’s sides, Master Ruff, are ye so crusty?

You may happen to see.

Do what thou darest to me. [Here draw and fight. Here she must lay on and coil them both, the Vice must run his way for fear, Snuff fling down his sword and buckler, and run his way.

Gog’s sides, knaves, seeing to fight ye be so rough, Defend yourselves, for I will give ye both enough: I will teach you how ye shall fall out for me; Yea, thou slave Snuff, no more blows wilt thou bide? To take thy heels a time hast thou spied? Thou villain, seeing Snuff has gone away, A little better I mean thee to pay. [He falleth down, she falleth upon him, and beats him, and taketh away his weapon.]

Alas, good Mistress Meretrix, no more; My legs, sides, and arms with beating be sore.

Thou a soldier, and loose thy weapon! Go hence, sir boy; say, a woman hath thee beaten.

Good Mistress Meretrix, my weapon let me have; Take pity on me, mine honesty to save! If it be known this repulse I sustain, It will redound to my ignomy and shame.

If thou wilt be my man, and wait upon me, This sword and buckler I will give thee.

I will do all at your commandment; As servant to you I will be obedient.

Then let me see how before me ye can go. When I speak to you, ye shall do so: Off with your cap at place and at board: Forsooth, Mistress Meretrix, at every word, Tut, tut, in the camp such soldiers there be; One good woman would beat away two or three. Well, I am sure, customers tarry at home: Mannerly, before: and let us begone. [Exeunt.

O’ the passion of God, be they here still or no? I durst not abide to see her beat them so. I may say to you I was in such a fright: Body of me, I see the hair of my head stand upright. When I saw her so hard upon them lay, O’ the passion of God, thought I, she will be with me anon. I made no more ado, but avoided the thrust, And to my legs began for to trust; And fell a laughing to myself, when I was once gone: It is wisdom (quoth I), by the mass, to save one. Then into this place I intended to trudge, Thinking to meet Sisamnes the judge. Behold, where he cometh, I will him meet; And like a gentleman I mean him to greet.

Since that the king’s grace’s majesty in office did me set, What abundance of wealth to me might I get? Now and then some vantage I achieve, Much more yet may I take; But that I fear unto the king That some complaint will make.

Jesu, Master Sisamnes, you are unwise.

Why so? I pray ye, let me agnise, What, Master Ambidexter, is it you? Now welcome to me, I make God a vow.

Jesu, Master Sisamnes, with me you are well acquainted: By me rulers may be trimly painted. Ye are unwise, if ye take not time while ye may: If ye will not now, when ye would, ye shall have nay. What is he, that of you dare make exclamation, Of your wrong-dealings to make explication? Can you not play with both hands, and turn with the wind?

Believe me, your words draw deep in my mind, In colour wise unto this day To bribes I have inclined: More the same for to frequent Of truth I am now minded. Behold, even now unto me suitors do proceed.

I beseech you here, good master judge, A poor man’s cause to tender; Condemn me not in wrongful wise, That never was offender. You know right well, my right it is, I have not for to give! You take away from me my due, That should my corpse relieve. The Commons of you do complain, From them you devocate; With anguish great and grievous words Their hearts do penetrate. From[235] right you fell unto the wrong, Your private gain to win; You violate the simple man, And count it for no sin.

Hold thy tongue, thou prattling knave, And give to me reward; Else in this wise, I tell thee truth, Thy tale will not be heard. Ambidexter, let us go hence, and let the knave alone.

Farewell, Small Hability, for help now get ye none. Bribes hath corrupt him, good laws to pollute. [Exeunt.

A naughty man that will not obey the king’s constitute. With heavy heart I will return, Till God redress my pain. [Exit.

From among the grisly ghosts I come, From tyrant’s testy train; Unseemly Shame of sooth I am, Procured to make plain The odious facts and shameless deeds That Cambyses king doth use; All piety and virtuous life He doth it clean refuse. Lechery and drunkenness He doth it much frequent; The tiger’s kind to imitate He hath given full consent. He nought esteems his Council grave, Ne virtuous bringing up; But daily still receives the drink Of damned vice’s cup: He can bide no instruction, He takes so great delight In working of iniquity, For to frequent his spite: As fame doth sound the royal trump Of worthy men and trim, So shame doth blow with strained blast The trump of shame on him. [Exit.

My judge, since my departure hence, Have you used judgment right? If faithful steward I ye find The same I will requite.

No doubt, your grace shall not once hear That I have done amiss.

I much rejoice to hear so good news as this.

Alas, alas, how are the Commons oppressed By that vile judge, Sisamnes by name? I do not know, how it should be redressed; To amend his life no whit he doth frame. We are undone, and thrown out of door, His damnable dealing doth us so torment: At his hand we can find no relief nor succour. God grant him grace for to repent. [Run away crying.

What doleful cries be these, my lord, That sound do in my ear? Intelligence if you can give, Unto your king declare. To me it seemeth my Commons all They do lament and cry Out at[236] Sisamnes judge most chief, Even now standing us by.

Even so (O king) it seem’d to me, As you rehearsal made; I doubt the judge culpable be In some respect or trade.

Redoubted king, have no mistrust, No whit your mind dismay; There is not one that can me charge, Or ought against me lay.

Commons’ Complaint I represent, With thrall of doleful state, By urgent cause erected forth My grief for to dilate. Unto the king I will prepare My misery to tell, To have relief of this my grief, And fettered feet so fell. Redoubted prince and mighty king, Myself I prostrate here; Vouchsafe (O king) with me to bear For this that I appear. With humble suit I pardon crave Of your most royal grace, To give me leave my mind to break, Before you in this place.

Commons’ Complaint, keep nothing back, Fear not thy tale to tell; Whate’er he be within this land That hath not used thee well, As prince’s mouth shall sentence give, He shall receive the same; Unfold the secrets of thy breast, For I extinguish blame.

God preserve your royal grace, And send you blissful days, That all your deeds might still accord To give to[237] God the praise. My complaint is (O mighty king) Against that judge you by; Whose careless deeds, gain to receive, Hath made the Commons cry: He, by taking bribes and gifts, The poor he doth oppress, Taking relief from infants young, Widows and fatherless.

Untruthful traitor and corrupt judge, How likest thou this complaint? Forewarning I to thee did give, Of this to make restraint: And hast thou done this devilish deed, Mine ire for to augment? I sentence give, thou Judas judge; Thou shalt thy deed repent.

O puissant prince, it is not so, His complaint I deny.

If it be not so (most mighty king), In place then let me die: Behold that I have brought with me Both Proof and Trial true, To stand even here, and sentence give, What by him did ensue.

I Proof do him in this appeal, He did the Commons wrong; Unjustly he with them hath dealt, His greedy[238] was so strong: His heart did covet in to get, He cared not which way; The poor did lese their due and right, Because they wont[239] to pay Unto him for bribes indeed, This was his wonted use: Whereas your grace good laws did make, He did the same abuse.

I Trial here to verify What Proof doth now unfold, To stand against him in his wrong, As now I dare be bold.

How likest thou this, thou caitiff vile? Canst thou the same deny?

O noble king, forgive my fact: I yield to thy mercy.

Complaint and Proof, redress will I All this your misery: Depart with speed from whence you came, And straight command by me The execution-man to come Before my grace with haste.

For to fulfil this your request, No time we mean to waste. [Exeunt they three.

My lord, before my grace go call Otian, this judge’s son; And he shall hear, and also see, What his father hath done. The father he shall suffer death, The son his room succeed; And if that he no better prove, So likewise shall he speed.

As your grace hath commandment given, I mean for to fulfil. [Step aside and fetch him.

Accursed judge, couldst thou consent To do this cursed ill? According unto thy demand, Thou shalt for this thy guilt Receive thy death before mine eyes: Thy blood it shall be spilt.

Behold (O king) Sisamnes’ son Before you doth appear.

Otian, this is my mind, Therefore to me come near: Thy father here for judgment wrong Procured hath his death, And thou his son shalt him succeed, When he hath lost his breath; And if that thou dost once offend, As thou seest thy father have, In like wise thou shalt suffer death, No mercy shall thee save.

O mighty king, vouchsafe your grace My father to remit; Forgive his fault, his pardon I Do ask of you as yet. Alas, although my father hath Your princely heart offended, Amends for miss he will now make, And faults shall be amended. Instead of his requested life, Pleaseth your grace take mine: This offer I as tender child, So duty doth me bind.

Do not entreat my grace no more, For he shall die the death; Where is the execution-man, Him to bereave of breath?

At hand and, if it like your grace, My duty to dispatch; In hope that I, when deed is done, A good reward shall catch.

Dispatch with sword this judge’s life, Extinguish fear and cares: So done, draw thou his cursed skin Straight over both his ears. I will see the office done, And that before mine eyes.

To do the thing my king commands, I give the enterprise.

Otian, my son, the king to death By law hath me condemned; And you in room and office mine His grace’s will hath placed: Use justice therefore in this case, And yield unto no wrong, Lest thou do purchase the like death, Ere ever it be long.

O father dear, these words to hear, That thou must die by force, Bedews my cheeks with stilled tears; The king hath no remorse. The grievous grief and strained sighs My heart doth break in twain, And I deplore, most woful child, That I should see you slain. O false and fickle frowning dame, That turneth as the wind, Is this the joy in father’s age, Thou me assign’st to find? O doleful day, unhappy hour, That loving child should see: His father dear before his face, Thus put to death should be. Yet, father, give me blessing thine, And let me once embrace Thy comely corpse in folded arms, And kiss thy ancient face.

O child, thou makes mine eyes to run, As rivers do, by stream; My leave I take of thee, my son, Beware of this my beam.

Dispatch even now, thou man of death; No longer seem to stay.

Come, Master Sisamnes, come on your way, My office I must pay; Forgive therefore my deed.

I do forgive it thee, my friend; Dispatch therefore with speed. [Smite him in the neck with a sword to signify his death.

Behold (O king), how he doth bleed, Being of life bereft.

In this wise he shall not yet be left. Pull his skin over his ears, To make his death more vile: A wretch he was, a cruel thief, My Commons to beguile. [Flays him with a false skin.

What child is he of nature’s mould Could bide the same to see, His father flead in this wise? O, how it grieveth me!

Otian, thou seest thy father dead, And thou art in his room: If thou beest proud as he hath been, Even thereto shalt thou come.

O king, to me this is a glass: With grief in it I view Example that unto your grace I do not prove untrue.

Otian, convey your father hence To tomb where he shall lie.

And if it please your lordship, It shall be done by and by. Good execution-man, for need Help me with him away.

I will fulfil, as you to me did say. [They take him away.

My lord, now that my grace hath seen, That finish’d is this deed, To question mine give ’tentive ear, And answer make with speed. Have not I done a gracious deed, To redress my Commons’ woe.

Yea, truly, if it please your grace, Ye have indeed done so: But now (O king) in friendly wise I counsel you in this; Certain vices for to leave, That in you placed is: The vice of drunkenness (O king) Which doth you sore infect, With other great abuses, which I wish you to detect.

Peace, my lord; what needeth this? Of this I will not hear: To palace now I will return, And there to make good cheer. God Bacchus he bestows his gifts, We have good store of wine; And also that the ladies be Both passing brave and fine: But, stay; I see a lord now come, And eke a valiant knight. What news, my lord? to see you here My heart it doth delight.

No news (O king), but of duty come, To wait upon your grace.

I thank you, my lord and loving knight, I pray you with me trace. My lords and knight, I pray ye tell, I will not be offended: Am I worthy of any crime Once to be reprehended?

The Persians much praise your grace, But one thing discommend, In that to wine subject you be, Wherein you do offend. Sith that the might of wine effect, Doth oft subdue your brain, My counsel is, to please their hearts, From it you would refrain.

No, no, my lord, it is not so; For this of prince they tell, For virtuous proof and princely facts Cyrus he doth excel; By that his grace by conquest great The Egyptians did convince; Of him report abroad doth pass, To be a worthy prince.

In person of Crœsus I answer make, We may not his grace compare, In whole respect for to be like, Cyrus the king’s father: In so much your grace hath yet no child, As Cyrus left behind, Even you I mean, Cambyses king, In whom I favour find.

Crœsus said well in saying so: But, Praxaspes, tell me why, That to my mouth in such a sort Thou should avouch a lie, Of drunkenness me thus to charge: But thou with speed shalt see, Whether that I a sober king Or else a drunkard be. I know thou hast a blissful babe, Wherein thou dost delight: Me to revenge of these thy words, I will go wreak this spite. When I the most have tasted wine, My bow it shall be bent, At heart of him even then to shoot Is now my whole intent: And if that I his heart can hit, The king no drunkard is; If heart of his I do not kill, I yield to thee in this. Therefore, Praxaspes, fetch to me Thy youngest son with speed; There is no way, I tell thee plain, But I will do this deed.

Redoubted prince, spare my sweet child, He is mine only joy: I trust your grace to infant heart No such thing will employ. If that his mother hear of this, She is so nigh her flight, In clay her corpse will soon be shrin’d To pass from world’s delight.

No more ado, go fetch me him, It shall be as I say: And if that I do speak the word, How dare ye once say nay?

I will go fetch him to your grace; But so, I trust, it shall not be.

For fear of my displeasure great, Go fetch him unto me. Is he gone? Now, by the gods, I will do as I say; My lord, therefore, fill me some wine, I heartily you pray; For I must drink to make my brain Somewhat intoxicate: When that the wine is in my head, O, trimly I can prate!

Here is the cup with filled wine, Thereof to take repast.

Give it me to drink it off, And see no wine be waste: [Drink. Once again enlarge this cup, For I must it still taste:[240] [Drink. By the gods, I think, of pleasant wine I cannot take my fill. Now drink is in, give me my bow, And arrows from sir knight; At heart of child I mean to shoot, Hoping to cleave it right.

Behold (O king) where he doth come, His infant young in hand.

O mighty king, your grace behest With sorrow I have scann’d, And brought my child fro mother’s knee, Before you to appear: And she thereof no whit doth know, That he in place is here.

Set him up my mark to be, I will shoot at his heart.

I beseech your grace not so to do, Set this pretence[241] apart. Farewell, my dear and loving babe; Come, kiss thy father dear; A grievous sight to me it is, To see thee slain even here. Is this the gain now from the king For giving counsel good, Before my face with such despite To spill my son’s heart-blood? O heavy day to me this is And mother in like case.

O father, father, wipe your face, I see the tears run from your eye: My mother is at home sewing of a band; Alas, dear father, why do you cry?

Before me as a mark now let him stand; I will shoot at him my mind to fulfil.

Alas, alas! father, will you me kill? Good Master King, do not shoot at me, My mother loves me best of all.

I have despatched him, down he doth fall; [Shoot. As right as a line his heart I have hit: Nay, thou shall see, Praxaspes, stranger news yet. My knight, with speed his heart cut out, And give it unto me.

It shall be done (O mighty king) With all celerity.

My lord Praxaspes, this had not been, But your tongue must be walking; To the king of correction You must needs be talking.

No correction (my lord), but counsel for the best.

Here is the heart, according to your grace’s behest.

Behold, Praxaspes, thy son’s own heart: O, how well the same was hit! After this wine to do this deed, I thought it very fit: Esteem thou may’st right well thereby, No drunkard is the king, That in the midst of all his cups Could do this valiant thing. My lord and knight, on me attend; To palace we will go, And leave him here to take his son, When we are gone him fro.

With all our hearts we give consent To wait upon your grace.

A woful man (O lord) am I, To see him in this case: My days I deem desires their end, This deed will help me hence, To have the blossoms of my field Destroy’d by violence.

Alas, alas! I do hear tell The king hath kill’d my son: If it be so, woe worth the deed, That ever it was done. It is even so, my lord, I see, How by him he doth weep: What meant I, that from hands of him This child I did not keep? Alas! husband and lord, what did you mean To fetch this child away?

O lady wife, I little thought For to have seen this day.

O blissful babe, O joy of womb, Heart’s comfort and delight, For counsel given unto the king, Is this thy just requite? O heavy day and doleful time, These mourning tunes to make! With blubb’red eyes into my arms From earth I will thee take, And wrap thee in mine apron white: But O my heavy heart? The spiteful pangs that it sustains Would make it in two to part: The death of this my son to see, O heavy mother now, That from thy sweet and sug’red joy To sorrow so shouldst bow. What grief in womb did I retain, Before I did thee see? Yet at the last, when smart was gone, What joy wert thou to me? How tender was I of thy food For to preserve thy state? How stilled I thy tender heart At times early and late? With velvet paps I gave thee suck, With issue from my breast, And danced thee upon my knee To bring thee unto rest. Is this the joy of thee I reap? O king of tiger’s brood! O tiger’s whelp, hadst thou the heart, To see this child’s heart-blood? Nature enforceth me, alas! In this wise to deplore; To wring my hands, O wel-away, That I should see this hour! Thy mother yet will kiss thy lips, Silk-soft and pleasant white; With wringing hands lamenting for To see thee in this plight. My lording dear, let us go home, Our mourning to augment.

My lady dear, with heavy heart To it I do consent: Between us both the child to bear Unto our lordly place. [Exeunt.

Indeed, as ye say, I have been absent a long space: But is not my cousin Cutpurse with you in the meantime? To it, to it, cousin; and do your office fine. How like you Sisamnes for using of me? He play’d with both hands, but he sped ill favouredly. The king himself was godly uptrained; He professed virtue, but I think it was feigned: He plays with both hands good deeds and ill; But it was no good deed Praxaspes’ son for to kill: As he for the good deed on the judge was commended, For all his deeds else he is reprehended. The most evil-disposed person that ever was; All the state of his life he would not let pass. Some good deeds he will do, though they be but few: The like things this tyrant Cambyses doth show. No goodness from him to none is exhibited; But still maledictions abroad is distributed. And yet ye shall see in the rest of his race, What infamy he will work against his own grace. Whist, no more words: here comes the king’s brother.

The king’s brother by birth am I, Issued from Cyrus’ loins: A grief to me it is to hear Of this the king’s repines. I like not well of those his deeds, That he doth still frequent; I wish to God, that other ways His mind he could content: Young I am, and next to him, No mo of us there be; I would be glad a quiet realm In this his reign to see.

My lord, your good and willing heart The gods will recompense, In that your mind so pensive is For those his great offence. My lord, his grace shall have a time To pair and to amend: Happy is he that can escape, And not his grace offend.

If that wicked vice he could refrain, From wasting wine forbear, A moderate life he would frequent, Amending this his square.

My lord, and if your honour it shall please, I can inform you what is best for your ease; Let him alone, of his deeds do not talk, Then by his side ye may quietly walk; After his death you shall be king, Then may you reform each kind of thing. In the meantime live quietly, do not with him deal; So shall it redound much to your weal.

Thou say’st true, my friend, that is the best: I know not whether he love me, or do me detest.

Learn from his company all that you may; I faithful Attendance will your honour obey. If against your honour he take any ire, His grace is as like to kindle his fire, To your honour’s destruction as otherwise.

Therefore, my lord, take good advice, And I Diligence your case will so tender, That to his grace your honour shall be none offender.

I thank you both, entire friends, with my honour still remain.

Behold, where the king doth come with his train.

O lording dear, and brother mine, I joy your state to see; Surmising much what is the cause, You absent thus from me.

Pleaseth your grace, no absence I, But ready to fulfil At all assays, my prince and king, In that your grace me will: What I can do in true defence, To you, my prince, aright, In readiness I always am To offer forth my might.

And I the like to you again Do here avouch the same.

For this your good agreement here, Now praised be God’s name.

But hear ye, noble prince; hark in your ear: It is best to do as I did declare.

My lord and brother Smirdis now, This is my mind and will, That you to court of mine return, And there to tarry still, Till my return within short space Your honour for to greet.

At your behest so will I do, Till time again we meet: My leave I take from you (O king); Even now I do depart. [Exeunt Smirdis, Attendance, and Diligence.

Farewell lord and brother mine, Farewell with all my heart. My lord, my brother Smirdis is Of youth and manly might; And in his sweet and pleasant face My heart doth take delight.

Yea, noble prince, if that your grace Before his honour die, He will succeed a virtuous king, And rule with equity.

As you have said, my lord, he is Chief heir next my grace: And if I die to-morrow, next He shall succeed my place.

And if it please your grace (O king), I heard him say, For your death unto the god[s,] Day and night he did pray: He would live so virtuously, And get him such a praise, That Fame by trump his due deserts His honour should up-raise. He said your grace deserved had The cursing of all men; That ye should never after him Get any praise again.

Did he speak thus of my grace, In such despiteful wise? Or else dost thou presume to fill My princely ears with lies?

I cannot think it in my heart, That he would report so.

How sayst thou? speak the truth, Was it so or no?

I think so, if it please your grace, but I cannot tell.

Thou play’st with both hands, now I perceive well, But for to put all doubts aside, And to make him lese his hope, He shall die by dent of sword, Or else by choking rope. Shall he succeed when I am gone, To have more praise than I? Were he father, as brother mine, I swear that he shall die. To palace mine I will therefore, His death for to pursue. [Exit.

Are ye gone? straightway I will follow you. How like ye now, my masters? doth not this gear cotton? The proverb old is verified, soon ripe and soon rotten. He will not be quiet, till his brother he kill’d: His delight is wholly to have his blood spill’d. Marry, sir, I told him a notable lie: If it were to do again, man, I durst do it, I. Marry, when I had done, to it I durst not stand: Thereby you may perceive I use to play with each hand. But how now, cousin Cutpurse? with whom play you? Take heed, for his hand is groping even now: Cousin, take heed, if ye do secretly grope; If ye be taken, cousin, ye must look through a rope. [Exit.

I am wand’ring alone, here and there to walk; The court is so unquiet, in it I take no joy: Solitary to myself now I may talk; If I could rule, I wist what to say.

My coequal partner Murder, come away; From me long thou may’st not stay.

Yes, from thee I may stay, but not thou from me: Therefore I have a prerogative above thee.

But in this case we must together abide: Come, come; Lord Smirdis I have spied: Lay hands on him with all festination, That on him we may work our indignation.

How now, my friends? What have you to do with me?

King Cambyses hath sent us unto thee, Commanding us straitly without mercy or favour, Upon thee to bestow our behaviour; With Cruelty to murder you, and make you away. [Strike him in divers places.

Yet pardon me, I heartily you pray: Consider, the king is a tyrant tyrannious; And all his doings be damnable and pernicious: Favour me therefore, I did him never offend.

No favour at all; your life is at an end. Even now I strike his body to wound: Behold, now his blood springs out on the ground. [A little bladder of vinegar pricked.

Now he is dead, let us present him to the king.

Lay to your hand, away him to bring. [Exeunt.

O’ the passion of God, yonder is a heavy court: Some weeps, some wails, and some make great sport. Lord Smirdis by Cruelty and Murder is slain; But, Jesus! for want of him, how some do complain! If I should have had a thousand pound, I could not forbear weeping. Now Jesus have his blessed soul in keeping! Ah good lord to think on him, how it doth me grieve! I cannot forbear weeping, ye may me believe. [Weep. O my heart! how my pulses do beat: With sorrowful lamentations I am in such a heat. Ah my heart! how for him it doth sorrow! Nay, I have done in faith now, and God give you good morrow! Ha, ha, weep! nay, laugh, with both hands to play; The king through his cruelty hath made him away. But hath not he wrought a most wicked deed? Because king after him he should not proceed, His own natural brother, and having no more, To procure his death by violence sore; In spite because his brother should never be king, His heart being wicked consented to this thing. Now he hath no more brothers nor kindred alive: If the king use this gear still, he cannot long thrive.

God’s hat, neighbours, come away; it’s time to market to go.

God’s vast, neighbour, zay ye zo? The clock hath stricken vive, ich think, by lakin:[242] Bum vay,[243] vrom sleep cham not very well waken. But, neighbour Hob, neighbour Hob, what have ye to zell?

Bum troth, neighbour Lob, to you I chil tell: Chave two goslings and a chine of good pork; There is no vatter between this and York. Chave a pot of strawberries and a calf’s head, A zennight zince to-morrow it hath been dead.

Chave a score of eggs and of butter a pound: Yesterday a nest of goodly young rabbits I vound. Chave forty things mo, of more and of less; My brain is not very good them to express. But God’s hat, neighbour, wot’st what?

No, not well, neighbour, what’s that?

Bum vay, neighbour, master king is a zhrode lad; Zo God help me and holidam, I think the vool be mad: Zome zay he deal cruelly, his brother he did kill; And also a goodly young lad’s heart-blood he did spill.

Vorbod of God, neighbour, has he played such a voolish deed?

Goodman Hob and goodman Lob, God be your speed: As you two towards market did[244] walk, Of the king’s cruelty I did hear you talk, I insure you he is a king most vile and pernicious; His doings and life are odious and vicious.

It were a good deed zomebody would break his head.

Bum vay, neighbour Lob, I chould he were dead.

So would I, Lob and Hob, with all my heart. Now with both hands will ye see me play my part? [Aside. Ah, ye whoreson traitorly knaves; Hob and Lob, out upon you, slaves!

And thou call’st me knave, thou art another: My name is Lob, and Hob my next neighbour.

Hob and Lob, ah ye country patches! Ah ye fools! ye have made wrong matches; Ye have spoken treason against the king’s grace: For it I will accuse ye before his face; Then for the same ye shall be martyr’d: At the least ye shall be hang’d, drawn, and quartered.

O gentleman, ye shall have two pear-pies, and tell not of me.

By God, a vat goose chill give thee: I think no hurt, by my vather’s soul I swear.

Chave lived well all my life-time my neighbours among, And now chould be loth to come to zuch wrong: To be hanged and quartered the grief would be great.

A foul evil on thee, Hob! who bid thee on it treat? Vor it was thou that first did him name.

Thou liest like a varlet, and thou zay’st the same; It was zuch a voolish Lob as thou.

Speak many words, and by Cod’s nails I vow, Upon thy pate my staff I will lay.

By the mass, I will cause them to make a fray. [Aside. Yea, Lob, thou sayest true, all came through him.

Bum vay, thou Hob, a little would make me ye trim; Give thee a zwap on thy nose, till thy heart ache.

If thou darest, do it; else, man, cry creke: I trust, before thou hurt me, With my staff chill make a Lob of thee. [Here let them fight with their staves, not come near another by three or four yards; the Vice set them on as hard as he can: one of their wives come out, and all to beat the Vice, he run away.

O’ the body of me, husband Hob, what, mean you to fight? For the passion of God, no more blows smite. Neighbours and friends so long, and now to fall out! What, in your age to seem so stout? If I had not parted ye, one had kill’d another.

I had not cared, I swear by God’s mother.

Shake hands again at the request of me; As ye have been friends, so friends still be.

Bum troth, cham content, and zay’st word, neighbour Lob?

I am content; agreed, neighbour Hob. [Shake hands, and laugh heartily one at another.

So, get you to market, no longer stay; And with yonder knave let me make a fray.

Content, wife Marian, chill do as thou dost say But buss me, ich pray thee, at going away. [Exeunt Hob, Lob.

Thou whoreson knave and prickear’d boy, Why didst thou let them fight? If one had kill’d another here, Couldst thou their deaths requite? It bears a sign by this thy deed, A cowardly knave thou art; Else wouldst thou draw that weapon thine, Like a man them to part.

What, Marian-may-be-good, are you come prattling? Ye may hap get a box on the ear with your talking: If they had kill’d one another, I had not cared a pease. [Here let her swinge him with[245] her broom, she gets him down, and he her down, thus one on the top of another make pastime.

Ah villain, myself on thee I must ease: Give me a box on the ear? that will I try; Who shall be master, thou shalt see by and by.

O, no more, no more, I beseech you heartily; Even now I yield, and give you the mastery. [Run his way out, whilst she is down.

Ah knave, dost thou throw me down, and run thy way? If he were here again, O, how I would him pay! I will after him; and if I can him meet, With these my nails his face I will greet.

Come forth, my son, unto my words Attentive ears resign: What I pretend, see you frequent, To force this game of mine. The king a kinswoman hath, Adorn’d with beauty store; And I wish that Diana’s gifts, They twain shall keep no more; But use my silver sug’red game Their joys for to augment. When I do speak to wound his heart, Cupid my son, consent: And shoot at him the shaft of love, That bears the head of gold, To wound his heart in lover’s wise, His grief for to unfold. Though kin she be unto his grace, That nature me expel, Against the course thereof he may, In my game please me well; Wherefore, my son, do not forget, Forthwith pursue the deed.

Mother, I mean for to obey, As you have whole decreed: But you must tell me, mother dear, When I shall arrow draw; Else your request to be attain’d Will not be worth a straw: I am blind and cannot see; But still do shoot by guess; The poets well in places store Of my might do express.

Cupid my son, when time shall serve, That thou shalt do this deed, Then warning I to thee will give; But see thou shoot with speed.

Lady dear, to king akin, Forthwith let us proceed To trace abroad the beauty fields, As erst we had decreed: The blowing buds whose savoury scents Our sense will much delight. The sweet smell of musk-white rose, To please the appetite, The chirping birds, whose pleasant tunes Therein shall hear record, That our great joy we shall it find, In field to walk abroad. On lute and cittern there to play A heavenly harmony, Our ears shall hear, heart to content, Our sports to beautify.[246]

Unto your words, most comely lord, Myself submit do I; To trace with you in field so green, I mean not to deny. [Here trace up and down playing.

And I your waiting maid at hand With diligence will be For to fulfil with heart and hand, When you shall command me.

Come on, my Lord and Knight, abroad Our mirth let us employ: Since he is dead, this heart of mine In corpse I feel it joy. Should brother mine have reigned king, When I had yielded breath? A thousand brothers I rather had, To put them all to death. But, O, behold where do I see A lord and lady fair; For beauty she most worthy is To sit in prince’s chair.

Shoot forth, my son, now is the time That thou must wound his heart.

Content you, mother, I will do my part. [Shoot there, and go out Venus and Cupid.

Of truth, my lord, in eye of mine All ladies she doth excel: Can none report, what dame she is, And to my grace it tell?

Redoubted prince, pleaseth your grace, To you she is akin; Cousin-german nigh of birth, By mother’s side come in

And that her waiting maiden is, Attending her upon: He is a lord of prince’s court, And will be there anon. They sport themselves in pleasant field, To former used use.

My Lord and Knight, of truth I speak, My heart it cannot choose; But with my lady I must speak, And so express my mind. My lord and ladies, walking there, If you will favour find, Present yourselves unto my grace, And by my side come stand.

We will fulfil, most mighty king, As your grace doth command.

Lady dear, intelligence My grace hath got of late; You issued out of mother’s stock, And kin unto my state: According to rule of birth you are Cousin-german mine; Yet do I wish that farther off This kindred I could find: For Cupid he, that eyeless boy, My heart hath so inflamed With beauty you me to content The like cannot be named; For since I ent’red in this place, And on you fix’d mine eyes, Most burning fits about my heart In ample wise did rise. The heat of them such force doth yield, My corpse they scorch, alas! And burns the same with wasting heat, As Titan doth the grass. And sith this heat is kindled so, And fresh in heart of me, There is no way but of the same The quencher you must be: My meaning is, that beauty yours My heart with love doth wound; To give me love, mind to content My heart hath you out-found: And you are she must be my wife, Else shall I end my days. Consent to this, and be my queen, To wear the crown with praise.

If it please your grace (O mighty king) You shall not this request; It is a thing that nature’s course Doth utterly detest: And high it would the God displease, Of all that is the worst; To grant your grace to marry so, It is not that I durst: Yet humble thanks I render now Unto you, mighty king, That you vouchsafe to great estate, So gladly would me bring: Were it not it were offence, I would it not deny; But such great honour to achieve My heart I would apply. Therefore (O king) with humble heart In this I pardon crave: Mine answer is in this request, Your mind ye may not have.

May I not? nay, then I will, By all the gods I vow: And I will marry thee as wife; This is mine answer now: Who dare say nay what I pretend: Who dare the same withstand, Shall lose his head, and have report As traitor through my land: There is no nay, I will you have, And you my queen shall be.

Then, mighty king, I crave your grace, To hear the words of me: Your counsel take of lordings’ wit, The laws aright peruse; If I with safe may grant this deed, I will it not refuse.

No, no; what I have said to you, I mean to have it so: For counsel theirs I mean not, I, In this respect to go. But to my palace let us go, The marriage to prepare; For to avoid my will in this, I can it not forbear.

O God, forgive me, if I do amiss; The king by compulsion enforceth me this.

Unto the gods for your estate I will not cease to pray; That you may be a happy queen, And see most joyful day.

Come on, my lords, with gladsome hearts Let us rejoice with glee: Your music show to joy this deed At the request of me.

For to obey your grace’s words Our honours do agree. [Exeunt.

O’ the passion of me! marry, as ye say, yonder is a royal court; There is triumphing, and sport upon sport: Such loyal lords with such lordly exercise, Frequenting such pastime as they can devise; Running at tilt, justing, with running at the ring, Masquing and mumming, with each kind of thing, Such dancing, such singing, with musical harmony: Believe me, I was loth to absent their company. But will you believe? Jesu! what haste they made, till they were married? Not for a million of pounds one day longer they would have tarried. O, there was a banquet royal and superexcellent; Thousands and thousands at that banquet was spent. I muse of nothing but how they can be married so soon; I care not, if I be married before to-morrow at noon, If marriage be a thing that so may be had: How say you, maid? to marry me will ye be glad? Out of doubt, I believe, it is some excellent treasure, Else to the same belongs abundant pleasure. Yet with mine ears I have heard some say,— That ever I was married, now cursed be the day! Those be they, that with curs’d wives be matched, That husband for hawks’ meat of them is up snatched, Head broke with a bedstaff, face be all-to scratched: Knave, slave and villain! a coil’d coat now and then; When the wife hath given in, she will say, alas, good-man! Such were better unmarried, my masters, I trow, Than all their life after to be matched with a shrow.

With speed I am sent all things to prepare, My message to do as the king did declare. His grace doth mean a banquet to make, Meaning in this place repast for to take. Well, the cloth shall be laid, and all things in readiness, To court to return, when done, is my business.

A proper man, and also a fit, For the king’s estate to prepare a banquet.

What, Ambidexter? thou art not unknown; A mischief on all good faces, so that I curse not mine own: Now, in the knave’s name, shake hands with me.

Well said, goodman pouchmouth, your reverence I see, I will teach ye, if your manners no better be: Ah, ye slave! the king doth me a gentleman allow: Therefore I look that to me ye shall bow. [Fight.

Good Master Ambidexter, pardon my behaviour; For this your deed ye are a knave for your labour.

Why, ye stale counterly villain, nothing but knave? [Fight.

I am sorry, your mastership offended I have: Shake hands, that between us agreement may be; I was over-shot with myself, I do see. Let me have your help, this furniture to provide; The king from this place will not long abide.

[Set the fruit on the board. Content; it is the thing that I would wish: I myself will go fetch on dish. [Let the Vice set a dish of nuts, and let them fall in the bringing of them in.

Cleanly! Master Ambidexter; for fair on the ground they lie.

I will have them up again by and by.

To see all in readiness I will put you in trust: There is no nay, to the court needs I must. [Exit Preparation.

Have you no doubt, but all shall be well? Marry, sir, as you say, this gear doth excel: All things is in a readiness, when they come hither, The king’s grace and the queen both together. I beseech ye, my masters, tell me, is it not best That I be so bold as to bid a guest? He is as honest a man as ever spurr’d cow: My cousin Cutpurse, I mean, I beseech ye, judge you. Believe me, cousin, if to be the king’s guest ye could be taken, I trust that offer would not be forsaken. But, cousin, because to that office ye are not like to come, Frequent your exercises, a horn on your thumb, A quick eye, a sharp knife, at hand a receiver: But then take heed, cousin, ye be a cleanly conveyor; Content yourself, cousin, for this banquet you are unfit, When such as I at the same am not worthy to sit.

My queen and lords, to take repast Let us attempt the same; Here is the place, delay no time, But to our purpose frame.

With willing hearts your whole behest We mind for to obey.

And we, the rest of prince’s train, Will do as you do say. [Sit at the banquet.

Methink, mine ears doth wish the sound Of music’s harmony; Here for to play before my grace, In place I would them spy. [Play at the banquet.

They be at hand, sir, with stick and fiddle; They can play a new dance called Hey-diddle-diddle.

My queen, perpend: what I pronounce I will not violate; But one thing which my heart makes glad, I mind to explicate: You know, in court uptrained is A lion very young, Of one litter two whelps beside, As yet not very strong; I did request one whelp to see And this young lion fight: But lion did the whelp convince By strength of force and might His brother whelp, perceiving that The lion was too good, And he by force was like to see The other whelp his blood, With force to lion he did run His brother for to help: A wonder great it was to see That friendship in a whelp. So then the whelps between them both The lion did convince; Which thing to see before mine eyes Did glad the heart of prince. [At this tale told let the Queen weep.

These words to hear makes stilling tears Issue from crystal eyes.

What dost thou mean, my spouse, to weep For loss of any prize?

No, no (O king); but as you see Friendship in brothers whelp, When one was like to have repulse, The other yielded help. And was this favour show’d in dogs, To shame of royal king? Alack, I wish these ears of mine Had not once heard this thing. Even so should you (O mighty king) To brother been a stay; And not, without offence to you, In such wise him to slay. In all assays it was your part His cause to have defended; And whosoever had him misused, To have them reprehended: But faithful love was more in dog, Than it was in your grace.

O cursed caitiff, vicious and vile, I hate thee in this place. This banquet is at an end, Take all these things away: Before my face thou shalt repent The words that thou dost say. O wretch most vile, didst thou the cause Of brother mine so tender? The loss of him should grieve thy heart, He being none offender. It did me good his death to have, So will it to have thine; What friendship he had at my hands, The same even thou shalt find. I give consent and make a vow, That thou shalt die the death; By Cruel’s sword, and Murder fell, Even thou shalt lose the breath. Ambidexter, see with speed To Cruelty ye go; Cause him hither to approach, Murder with him also.

I ready am for to fulfil, If that it be your grace’s will.

Then nought oblight[247] my message given, Absent thyself away.

[Aside] Then in this place I will no longer stay. If that I durst, I would mourn your case; But, alas, I dare not for fear of his grace. [Exit Ambidexter.

Thou cursed jill, by all the gods I take an oath and swear, That flesh of thine these hands of mine In pieces small could tear; But thou shalt die by dent of sword, There is no friend ne fee Shall find remorse at prince’s hand To save the life of thee.

O mighty king and husband mine, Vouchsafe to hear me speak, And licence give to spouse of thine Her patient mind to break: For tender love unto your grace My words I did so frame, For pure love doth heart of king Me violate and blame. And to your grace is this offence, That I should purchase death? Then cursed time that I was queen, To shorten this my breath! Your grace doth know by marriage true I am your wife and spouse, And one to save another’s health (At troth-plight) made our vows. Therefore, O king, let loving queen At thy hand find remorse, Let pity be a mean to quench That cruel raging force: And pardon plight from prince’s mouth, Yield grace unto your queen, That amity with faithful zeal May ever be us between.

Ah caitiff vile, to pity thee My heart it is not bent? Ne yet to pardon your offence It is not mine intent.

Our mighty prince, with humble suit Of you this grace I crave, That this request it may take place, Your favour for to have. Let mercy yet abundantly The life of queen preserve, Sith she is most obedient wife Your grace’s will doth serve. As yet your grace but while with her Hath had cohabitation; And sure this is no desert why, To yield her indignation. Therefore (O king) her life prolong, To joy her days in bliss.

Your grace shall win immortal fame In granting unto this; She is a queen whose goodly hue Excels the royal rose: For beauty bright Dame Nature she A large gift did dispose; For comeliness who may compare? Of all she bears the bell; This should give cause to move your grace To love her very well; Her silver breasts in those your arms To sing the songs of love; Fine qualities most excellent To be in her you prove; A precious pearl of price to prince, A jewel passing all: Therefore (O king) to beg remorse On both my knees I fall; To grant her grace to have her life With heart I do desire.

You villains twain, with raging force Ye set my heart on fire: If I consent that she shall die, How dare ye crave her life? You two to ask this at my hand Doth much enlarge my strife; Were it not for shame, you two should die, That for her life do sue: But favour mine from you is gone, My lords, I tell you true. I sent for Cruelty of late; If he would come away, I would commit her to his hands His cruel part to play. Even now I see where he doth come, It doth my heart delight.

Come, Murder, come; let us go forth with might; Once again the king’s commandment we must fulfil.

I am contented to do it with a good will.

Murder and Cruelty, for both of you I sent, With all festination your offices to frequent: Lay hold on the queen, take her to your power, And make her away within this hour; Spare for no fear, I do you full permit: So I from this place do mean for to flit.

With courageous hearts, O king, we will obey.

Then come, my lords, let us depart away.

With heavy hearts we will do all your grace doth say. [Exeunt King and Lords.

Come, lady and queen, now are you in our handling: In faith, with you we will use no dandling:

With all expedition, I Murder will take place, Though thou be a queen, ye be under my grace.

With patience I will you both obey.

No more words, but go with us away.

Yet, before I die, some psalm to God let me sing.

We be content to permit you that thing.

Farewell, you ladies of the court, With all your masking hue: I do forsake these broder’d guards, And all the fashions new, The court and all the courtly train, Wherein I had delight; I banished am from happy sport, And all by spiteful spite. Yet with a joyful heart to God A psalm I mean to sing, Forgiving all, and the king, Of each kind of thing. [Sing and Exeunt.

Ah, ah, ah, ah! I cannot choose but weep for the queen: Nothing but mourning now at the court there is seen. O, O, my heart, my heart; O, my bum will break: Very grief so torments me that scarce I can speak. Who could but weep for the loss of such a lady? That cannot I do, I swear by mine honesty. But, Lord! so the ladies mourn crying, alack! Nothing is worn now but only black; I believe all [the] cloth in Watling Street to make gowns would not serve:[248] If I make a lie, the devil let me starve! All ladies mourn both young and old; There is not one that weareth a point’s worth of gold. There is a sort for fear of the king do pray, That would have him dead, by the mass I dare say. What a king was he that hath used such tyranny? He was akin to Bishop Bonner,[249] I think verily; For both their delights was to shed blood, But never intended to do any good. Cambyses put a judge to death; that was a good deed; But to kill the young child was worse to proceed; To murder his brother, and then his own wife! So help me God and halidom, it is pity of his life, Hear ye? I will lay twenty thousand pound, That the king himself doth die by some wound; He hath shed so much blood, that his will be shed: If it come so to pass, in faith, then he is sped.

Out alas? what shall I do? my life is finished; Wounded I am by sudden chance, my blood is minished: Gog’s heart, what means might I make my life to preserve? Is there nought to be my help? nor is there nought to serve? Out upon the court, and lords that there remain! To help my grief in this my case will none of them take pain? Who but I in such a wise his death’s wound could have got? As I on horse-back up did leap, my sword from scabbard shot, And run me thus into the side, as you right well may see. A marvell’s chance unfortunate, that in this wise should be. I feel myself a-dying now, of life bereft am I: And death hath caught me with his dart, for want of blood I spy. Thus gasping here on ground I lie, for nothing I do care; A just reward for my misdeeds my death doth plain declare. [Here let him quake and stir.

How now, noble king? pluck up your heart; What, will you die, and from us depart? Speak to me, and you be alive: He cannot speak; but behold now with death he doth strive! Alas, good king: alas, he is gone! The devil take me, if for him I make any moan. I did prognosticate of his end, by the mass; Like as I did say, so is it come to pass. I will be gone; if I should be found here, That I should kill him it would appear: For fear with his death they do me charge, Farewell, my masters, I will go take barge: I mean to be packing, now is the tide: Farewell, my masters, I will no longer abide. [Exit Ambidexter.

Behold, my lords, it is even so, As he to us did tell; His grace is dead upon the ground, By dent of sword most fell.

As he in saddle would have leapt, His sword from sheath did go, Goring him up into the side; His life was ended so.

His blood so fast did issue out, That nought could him prolong: Yet before he yielded up the ghost, His heart was very strong.

A just reward for his misdeeds The God above hath wrought; For certainly the life he led Was to be counted nought.

Yet a princely burial he shall have, According his estate; And more of him here at his time We have not to dilate.

My lords, let us take him up, To carry him away.

Content we are, with one accord, To do as you do say. [Exeunt all.

Right gentle audience, here have you perused The tragical history of this wicked king; According to our duty, we have not refused, But to our best intent express’d everything: We trust none is offended for this our doing. Our author craves likewise, if he have squared amiss, By gentle admonition to know where the fault is. His good will shall not be neglected to amend the same; Praying all to bear therefore with his simple deed, Until the time serve a better he may frame: Thus yielding you thanks, to end we decreed That you so gently have suffered us to proceed, In such patient wise as to hear and see: We can but thank you therefore, we can do no more, we. As duty binds us, for our noble queen let us pray, And for her honourable council, the truth that they may use, To practise justice, and defend her grace each day; To maintain God’s word they may not refuse, To correct all those, that would her grace and grace’s laws abuse; Beseeching God over us she may reign long, To be guided by truth, and defended from wrong.

“Non quelli a cui fu rotto il petto e l’ombra. Con esso un colpo per la man d’Artu.”

Of conquest (gracious queen) the signs and fruits, Achieved ’gainst such as wrongfully withheld The service by choice wits to Muses due, In humblest wise these captives we present. And lest your highness might suspect the gift, As spoil of war that justice might impeach, Hear and discern how just our quarrel was, Avouched (as you see) by good success. A dame there is, whom men Astrœa term, She that pronounceth oracles of laws, Who to prepare fit servants for her train, As by commission, takes up flow’ring wits, Whom first she schooleth to forget and scorn The noble skills of language and of arts, The wisdom which discourse of stories teach: The ornaments which various knowledge yields. But poesy she hath in most disdain, And marshals it next Folly’s scorned place. Then, when she hath these worthy prints defac’d Out of the minds that can endure her hand. What doth she then supply instead of these? Forsooth, some old reports of altered laws, Clamours of courts, and cavils upon words, Grounds without ground, supported by conceit, And reasons of more subtlety than sense. What shall I say of moot points strange, and doubts Still argued, but never yet agreed? And she that doth deride the poet’s law, Because he must his words in order place, Forgets her forms of pleading, more precise— More bound to words than is the poet’s lore: And for these fine conceits she fitly chose A tongue that barbarism itself doth use. We, noting all these wrongs, did long expect Their hard condition would have made them wise, To offer us their service, plac’d so ill; But finding them addicted to their choice, And specially desirous to present Your Majesty with fruits of province new, Now did resolve to double force and skill, And found and us’d the vantage of the time, Surpris’d their fort, and took them captives all. So now submiss, as to their state belongs, They gladly yield their homage long withdrawn, And Poetry, which they did most contemn, They glory now her favours for to wear. My sisters laugh’d to see them take the pen, And lose their wits all in unwonted walks: But to your highness that delight we leave, To see these poets new their style advance. Such as they are, or nought or little worth, Deign to accept, and therewith we beseech, That novelty give price to worthless things.

Good ladies, unacquaint with cunning reach, And eas’ly led to glory in your pow’r, Hear now abash’d our late dissembled minds. Nor now the first time, as yourselves best know, Ye Muses sought our service to command: Oft have ye wandered from Parnassus Hill, And showed yourselves with sweet and tempting grace, But yet return’d, your train increas’d with few. This resolution doth continue still: Unto Astrea’s name we honour bear, Whose sound perfections we do more admire Than all the vaunted store of Muses’ gifts, Let this be one (which last you put in ure In well depraving that deserveth praise) No eloquence, disguising reason’s shape, Nor poetry, each vain affection’s nurse, No various history, that doth lead the mind Abroad to ancient tales from instant use, Nor these, nor other mo, too long to note, Can win Astrea’s servants to remove Their service once devote to better things. They, with attentive minds and serious wits, Revolve records of deep judicial acts; They weigh with steady and indifferent hand Each word of law, each circumstance of right: They hold the grounds which time and use hath sooth’d,[251] Though shallow sense conceive them as conceits— Presumptuous sense, whose ignorance dare judge Of things remov’d by reason from her reach. One doubt, in moots by argument increas’d, Clears many doubts experience doth object. The language she first chose, and still retains, Exhibits naked truth in aptest terms. Our industry maintaineth unimpeach’d: Prerogative of prince, respect to peers, The Commons’ liberty and each man’s right; Suppresseth mutin force and practice fraud, Things that for worth our studious care deserve: Yet never did we banish nor reject Those ornaments of knowledge nor of tongues: That slander envious ignorance did raise. With Muses still we intercourse allow, T’enrich our state with all their foreign freight; But never homage nor acknowledgment, Such as of subjects allegiance doth require. Now hear the cause of your late conquest won. We had discovered your intent to be (And, sure, ye ladies are not secret all; Speech and not silence is the Muse’s grace) We well perceiv’d (I say) your mind to be T’ employ such prisoners, as themselves did yield, To serve a Queen, for whom her purest gold Nature refin’d, that she might therein set Both private and imperial virtues all. Thus (Sovereign Lady of our laws and us) Zeal may transform us into any shape. We, which with trembling hand the pen did guide, Never well pleas’d, all for desire to please; For still your rare perfections did occur, Which are admir’d of Muses and of men. O, with how steady hand and heart assur’d, Should we take up the warlike lance or sword, With mind resolv’d to spend our loyal blood Your least command with speed to execute! O, that before our time the fleeting ship Ne’er wandered had in watery wilderness, That we might first that venture undertake In strange attempt t’ approve our loyal hearts! Be it soldiers, seamen, poets, or what else, In service once enjoin’d, to ready minds Our want of use should our devoir increase. Now since instead of art we bring but zeal, Instead of praise we humbly pardon crave. The matter which we purpose to present, Since straights of time our liberty controls, In tragic notes the plagues of vice recounts. How suits a tragedy for such a time? Thus—for that since your sacred Majesty In gracious hands the regal sceptre held, All tragedies are fled from State to stage. Nicholas Trotte.

Since thus through channels black of Limbo lake, And deep infernal flood of Stygian pool, The ghastly Charon’s boat transported back Thy ghost from Pluto’s pits and glooming shade To former light, once lost by dest’ny’s doom, Where proud Pendragon, broil’d with shameful lust, Despoil’d thee erst of wife, of land and life, Now, Gorlois, work thy wish, cast here thy gall: Glut on revenge! thy wrath abhors delays. What though (besides Pendragon’s poisoned end) The vile reproach he wrought thee by thy pheer,[253] Through deep increase of crimes alike is plagu’d; And that the shame thou sufered’st for his lusts, Reboundeth back and stifleth in his stock, Yet is not mischief’s measure all fulfill’d, Nor wreak sufficient wrought. Thy murdered corpse And dukedom reft for heavier vengeance cries. Come, therefore, blooms of settled mischief’s root: Come, each thing else what fury can invent, Wreak all at once! infect the air with plagues, Till bad to worse, till worse to worse be turn’d! Let mischiefs know no mean, nor plagues an end! Let th’ offspring’s sin exceed the former stock! Let none have time to hate his former fault, But still with fresh supply let punish’d crime Increase, till time it make a complete sin! Go to: some fact, which no age shall allow Nor yet conceal—some fact must needs be dur’d, That for the horror great and outrage fell Thereof may well beseem Pendragon’s brood. And first, while Arthur’s navies homeward float, Triumphantly bedeck’d with Roman spoils, Let Guenevera express what frantic moods Distract a wife, when wronging wedlock’s rights, Both fond and fell, she loves and loathes at once. Let deep despair pursue till, loathing life, Her hateful head in cowl and cloister lurk. Let traitorous Mordred keep his sire from shore; Let Britain rest a prey for foreign powers; Let sword and fire, still fed with mutual strife, Turn all the kings to ghosts: let civil wars And discord swell, till all the realm be torn! Even in that soil whereof myself was Duke, Where first my spouse Igerna brake her vow, Where this ungracious offspring was begot: In Cornwall—there let Mordred’s death declare, Let Arthur’s fatal wound bewray, the wrong, The murder vile, the rape of wife and weal, Wherewith their sire incens’d both Gods and man. Thus, thus Pendragon’s seed, so sown and reap’d, Thus cursed imps, ill-born and worse consum’d, Shall render just revenge for parents’ crimes, And penance do, t’ assuage my swelling wrath. The whiles, O Cassiopœa, gem-bright sign, Most sacred sight and sweet celestial star, This climate’s joy, plac’d in imperial throne, With fragrant olive-branch portending peace; And whosoe’er besides, ye heavenly powers, (Her stately train with influence divine, And mild aspect all prone to Britain’s good) Foresee what present plagues do threat this isle, Prevent not this my wreak. For you there rests A happier age, a thousand years to come; An age for peace, religion, wealth, and ease, When all the world shall wonder at your bliss: That, that is yours! Leave this to Gorlois’ ghost. And see where comes one engine of my hate, With moods and manners fit for my revenge. [Exit.