Act 5 — [Scene XVI.][262]

P. Edw. Great potentates, earth’s miracles for state, Think that Prince Edward humbles at your feet, And, for these favours, on his martial sword He vows perpetual homage to yourselves, Yielding these honours unto Elinor.5 K. Hen. Gramercies, lordings; old Plantagenet, That rules and sways the Albion diadem, With tears discovers these conceived joys, And vows requital, if his men-at-arms, The wealth of England, or due houours done10 To Elinor, may quite his favourites. But all this while what say you to the dames That shine like to the crystal lamps of heaven? Emp. If but a third were added to these two, They did surpass those gorgeous images15 That gloried Ida with rich beauty’s wealth. Mar. ’Tis I, my lords, who humbly on my knee Must yield her orisons to mighty Jove For lifting up his handmaid to this state, Brought from her homely cottage to the court,20 And grac’d with kings, princes, and emperors; To whom (next to the noble Lincoln Earl) I vow obedience, and such humble love As may a handmaid to such mighty men. P. Elin. Thou martial man that wears the Almain crown,25 And you the western potentates of might, The Albion princess, English Edward’s wife, Proud that the lovely star of Fressingfield, Fair Margaret, Countess to the Lincoln Earl,29 Attends on Elinor,—gramercies, lord, for her,— ’Tis I give thanks for Margaret to you all, And rest for her due bounden to yourselves. K. Hen. Seeing the marriage is solémnized, Let’s march in triumph to the royal feast.— But why stands Friar Bacon here, so mute?35 Bacon. Repentant for the follies of my youth, That magic’s secret mysteries misled, And joyful that this royal marriage Portends such bliss unto this matchless realm. K. Hen. Why, Bacon,40 What strange event shall happen to this land? Or what shall grow from Edward and his queen? Bacon. I find by deep prescience of mine art, Which once I temp’red in my secret cell, That here where Brute did build his Troynovant,45 From forth the royal garden of a king Shall flourish out so rich and fair a bud[263] Whose brightness shall deface proud Phœbus’ flower, And over-shadow Albion with her leaves. Till then Mars shall be master of the field,50 But then the stormy threats of wars shall cease: The horse shall stamp as careless of the pike, Drums shall he turn’d to timbrels of delight; With wealthy favours plenty shall enrich The strand that gladded wand’ring Brute to see,55 And peace from heaven shall harbour in these leaves That gorgeous beautifies this matchless flower: Apollo’s heliotropion then shall stoop, And Venus’ hyacinth shall vail[264] her top; Juno shall shut her gilliflowers up,60 And Pallas’ bay shall ’bash her brightest green; Ceres’ carnation, in consórt with those, Shall stoop and wonder at Diana’s rose. K. Hen. This prophecy is mystical.— But, glorious commanders of Europa’s love,65 That make fair England like that wealthy isle Circled with Gihon and [swift][265] Euphrates, In royalizing Henry’s Albion With presence of your princely mightiness,— Let’s march: the tables all are spread,70 And viands, such as England’s wealth affords, Are ready set to furnish out the boards. You shall have welcome, mighty potentates: It rests to furnish up this royal feast, Only your hearts be frolic; for the time75 Craves that we taste of naught but jouissance. Thus glories England over all the west. Exeunt omnes.