List of Characters

in order of appearance.

In the Induction and Chorus:

Oberon, king of fairies. Bohan, a Scot. Slipper } his sons. Nano } an antic (dance), fairies, a dancer ‘boy or wench’.

In the Dumb Shows:

Semiramis, queen of Assiria. Stabrobates, king of India. Cyrus, king of Persia. Olive Pat, (?). Alexander, king of Macedon. Sesostris, king of Egypt.

In the Play:

The King of Scots. The King of England. Dorothea, his daughter, wife of the King of Scots. The Countess of Arran. Ida, her daughter. Ateukin (or Gnato). Andrew Snoord, a servingman. Slipper, a clown. Nano, a dwarf. Sir Bartram, a Scottish gentleman. Sir Eustace (Dick), an English gentleman. (A Servant of Sir Bartram.) The Bishop of Saint Andrews. Earl Douglas. Lord Morton. a Purveyor. Jaques, a Frenchman. Lord Ross. a Huntsman. a Tailor. a Shoemaker. a Cutler. Sir Cutbert Anderson. Lady Anderson. a Servant of the Countess of Arran. a Lawyer. a Merchant. a Divine. a Scout.

Lady Douglas, Sir Egmond, Lord Percy, Samles, an English Herald, lords, ladies, huntsmen, soldiers, antics.

In V. iii the speeches of the King of England have the prefix ‘Arius’ (ll. 2095, 2105, 2126, 2129), a name which in a stage-direction in II. ii (l. 1050) is apparently applied to the King of Scots. Ateukin (twice misprinted ‘Auteukin’, ll. 1451, 2562) is repeatedly called Gnato, which would seem to have been the original name of the character, subsequently altered, for in I. i ‘Ateukin’ several times scans as a dissyllable (ll. 355, 362, 365). Twice Ateukin and Gnato are mentioned together in a stage-direction (ll. 1550, 2053), apparently through misunderstanding of an alteration. Sir Eustace, who is also addressed as Lord Eustace, is several times called Dick (ll. 565, 568, 571, 601, 608, 629). One speech (l. 629) assigned to him, clearly belongs to a servant, who has therefore been added to the characters. In II. ii Nano is throughout called ‘Dwarfe’ except in the exit at l. 1049. Andrew’s surname appears from l. 551. The name of the King of Fairies is Oberon: ‘Oboram’ on the title and ‘Obiran’ in l. 1934. seem to be mere misprints, and ‘Obiron’ (ll. 1164, 1923, 1931) a sporadic variant. In l. 2 his name is given as ‘After Oberõ’, but this is most likely a misprint for ‘after Oberõ’. Dyce supposed that Oberon entered at l. 2398, and Grosart assumed that ‘Adam’ was the name of the actor who played the part, but it is more likely to be a compositor’s misreading of ‘A danc(e)’. At l. 1953 the direction ‘Ladie Anderson ouerheares’ is due to a misunderstanding; it should be ‘Sir Cutbert’. Lady Douglas and Sir Egmond are mentioned in l. 1606 as present, but nothing further is known of them: Lord Percy and Samles enter in V. iii (l. 2094), and the former again in V. vi (l. 2407), also the English herald in V. vi (l. 2338), but none of them speak. Nano does not speak in the Induction.

In l. 656 (cf. 666) the form ‘Staurobates’, in place of Stabrobates, proves that Greene drew from Poggio’s Latin translation of Diodorus Siculus and not from the original.

The text of the play contains nothing to identify either the English or the Scottish king, and the date 1520 given in the Induction is seven years after the death of James IV at Flodden.

The two collotype plates represent A2 recto (title page) and A3 recto in the Dyce copy of the original.

THE SCOTTISH Historie of Iames the fourth, slaine at Flodden.

Entermixed with a pleasant Comedie, presented by Oboram King of Fayeries:

As it hath bene sundrie times publikely plaide.

Written by Robert Greene, Maister of Arts.

Omne tulit punctum.

LONDON Printed by Thomas Creede. 1598.

THE SCOTTISH Hystorie of Iames the fourth, slaine at Flodden.

Musicke playing within. I. Chor.

Enter After Oberõ, King of Fayries, an Antique, who dance about a Tombe, plac’st conueniently on the Stage, out of the which, suddainly starts vp as they daunce, Bohan a Scot, attyred like a ridstall man, from whom the Antique flyes. Oberon Manet.

Bohan.

Ay say, whats thou?

Oberon.

Thy friend

Bohan

.

Bohan. What wot I, or reck I that, whay guid man, I reck no friend, nor ay reck no foe, als 10 ene to me, git the ganging, and trouble not may whayet, or ays gar the recon me nene of thay friend, by the mary masse sall I.

Ober. Why angrie Scot, I visit thee for loue: then what mooues thee to wroath?

Bohan. The deele awhit reck I thy loue. For I knowe too well, that true loue tooke her flight twentie winter sence to heauen, whither till ay can, weele I wot, ay sal nere finde loue: an thou lou’st me, leaue me to my selfe. But what were those Puppits that hopt and skipt about me year whayle? 20

Oberon. My subiects.

Boh. Thay subiects, whay art thou a King?

Ober. I am.

Bohan. The deele thou art, whay thou look’st not so big as the king of Clubs, nor so sharpe as the king of Spades, nor so faine as the king Adaymonds, be the masse ay take thee to bee the king of false harts: therfore I rid thee away, or ayse so curry your Kingdome, that yous be glad to runne to saue your life.

Ober. Why stoycall Scot, do what thou dar’st to me, heare is my brest strike. 30

Boh. Thou wilt not threap me, this whiniard has gard many better mẽ to lope thẽ thou: but how now? Gos sayds what wilt not out? whay thou wich, thou deele, gads sute may whiniard.

Ober. Why pull man: but what an twear out, how then?

Boh. This then, thou weart best begon first: for ayl so lop thy lyms, that thouse go with half a knaues carkasse to the deele

Ober. Draw it out, now strike foole, canst thou not?

Boh. Bread ay gad, what deele is in me, whay tell mee thou skipiack what art thou?

Ober. Nay first tell me what thou wast from thy birth, what 40 thou hast past hitherto, why thou dwellest in a Tombe, & leauest the world? and then I will release thee of these bonds, before not.

Boh. And not before, then needs must needs sal: I was borne a gentleman of the best bloud in all Scotland, except the king, when time brought me to age, and death tooke my parents, I became a Courtier, where though ay list not praise my selfe, ay engraued the memory of Boughon on the skin-coate of some of them, and reueld with the proudest.

Ober. But why liuing in such reputation, didst thou leaue to 50 be a Courtier?

Boh. Because my pride was vanitie, my expence losse, my reward faire words and large promises, & my hopes spilt, for that after many yeares seruice, one outran me, and what the deele should I then do there. No no, flattering knaues that can cog and prate fastest, speede best in the Court.

Ober. To what life didst thou then betake thee?

Boh. I then chang’d the Court for the countrey, and the wars for a wife: but I found the craft of swaines more vile, then the knauery of courtiers: the charge of children more heauie then 60 seruants, and wiues tongues worse then the warres it selfe: and therefore I gaue ore that, & went to the Citie to dwell, & there I kept a great house with smal cheer, but all was nere the neere.

Ober. And why?

Boh. because in seeking friends, I found table guests to eate me, & my meat, my wiues gossops to bewray the secrets of my heart, kindred to betray the effect of my life, which when I noted, the court ill, the country worse, and the citie worst of all, in good time my wife died: ay wood she had died twentie winter sooner by the masse, leauing my two sonnes to the world, and 70 shutting my selfe into this Tombe, where if I dye, I am sure I am safe from wilde beasts, but whilest I liue, cannot be free frõ ill companie. Besides, now I am sure gif all my friends faile me, I sall haue a graue of mine owne prouiding: this is all. Now what art thou?

Ober. Oberon King of Fayries, that loues thee because thou hatest the world, and to gratulate thee, I brought those Antiques to shew thee some sport in daunsing, which thou haste loued well.

Bohan. Ha, ha, ha, thinkest thou those puppits can please 80 me? whay I haue two sonnes, that with one scottish gigge shall breake the necke of thy Antiques.

Ober. That would I faine see.

Boha.

Why thou shalt, howe boyes.

Enter Slipper and Nano.

Haud your clacks lads, trattle not for thy life, but gather vppe

your legges and daunce me forthwith a gigge worth the sight.

Slip. Why I must talk on Idy fort, wherefore was my tongue made.

Boha. Prattle an thou darst ene word more, and ais dab this 90 whiniard in thy wembe.

Ober. Be quiet Bohan, Ile strike him dumbe, and his brother too, their talk shal not hinder our gyg, fall to it, dance I say mã.

Boh.

Dance Humer, dance, ay rid thee.

The two dance a gig deuised for the nonst.

Now get you to the wide world with more thẽ my father gaue

me, thats learning enough, both kindes, knauerie & honestie:

and that I gaue you, spend at pleasure.

Ober. Nay for their sport I will giue them this gift, to the Dwarfe I giue a quicke witte, prettie of body, and awarrant his 100 preferment to a Princes seruice, where by his wisdome he shall gaine more loue then cõmon. And to loggerhead your sonne, I giue a wandering life, and promise he shall neuer lacke: and auow that if in all distresses he call vpon me to helpe him: now let them go.

Exeunt with curtesies.

Boh. Now King, if thou bee a King, I will shew thee whay I hate the world by demonstration, in the year 1520. was in Scotland, a king ouerruled with parasites, mifled by lust, & many circumstances, too long to trattle on now, much like our 110 court of Scotland this day, that story haue I set down, gang with me to the gallery, & Ile shew thee the same in Action, by guid fellowes of our country men, and then when thou seest that, iudge if any wise man would not leaue the world if he could.

Ober. That will I see, lead and ile follow thee. Exeunt.

Laus Deo detur in Eternum. I. i.

Enter the King of England, the King of Scots, Dorithe his Queen, the Countesse, Lady Ida, with other Lords. And Ateukin with them aloofe.

Attus primus. Scena prima.120

K. of Scots. Brother of England, since our neighboring land, And neare alliance doth inuite our loues, The more I think vpon our last accord, The more I greeue your suddaine parting hence: First lawes of friendship did confirme our peace, Now both the seale of faith and marriage bed, The name of father, and the style of friend, These force in me affection full confirmd, So that I greeue, and this my heartie griefe 130 The heauens record, the world may witnesse well To loose your presence, who are now to me A father, brother, and a vowed friend.

K. of Eng. Link all these louely stiles good king in one, And since thy griefe exceeds in my depart, I leaue my Dorithea to enioy, thy whole compact Loues, and plighted vowes. Brother of Scotland, this is my ioy, my life, Her fathers honour, and her Countries hope, Her mothers comfort, and her husbands blisse: 140 I tell thee king, in louing of my Doll, Thou bindst her fathers heart and all his friends In bands of loue that death cannot dissolue.

K. of Scots. Nor can her father loue her like to me, My liues light, and the comfort of my soule: Faire Dorithea, that wast Englands pride, Welcome to Scotland, and in signe of loue, Lo I inuest thee with the Scottish Crowne. Nobles and Ladies, stoupe vnto your Queene. And Trumpets sound, that Heralds may proclaime, 150 Faire Dorithea peerlesse Queene of Scots.

All. Long liue and prosper our faire Q. of Scots.

Enstall and Crowne her.

Dor. Thanks to the king of kings for my dignity, Thanks to my father, that prouides so carefully, Thanks to my Lord and husband for this honor, And thanks to all that loue their King and me.

All. Long liue faire Dorithea our true Queene.

K. of E. Long shine the sun of Scotland in her pride, Her fathers comfort, and faire Scotlands Bride. 160 But Dorithea, since I must depart, And leaue thee from thy tender mothers charge, Let me aduise my louely daughter first, What best befits her in a forraine land, Liue Doll, for many eyes shall looke on thee, Haue care of honor and the present state: For she that steps to height of Maiestie, Is euen the marke whereat the enemy aimes. Thy vertues shall be construed to vice, Thine affable discourse to abiect minde. 170 If coy, detracting tongues will call thee proud: Be therefore warie in this slippery state, Honour thy husband, loue him as thy life: Make choyce of friends, as Eagles of their yoong, Who sooth no vice, who flatter not for gaine: But loue such friends as do the truth maintaine. Thinke on these lessons when thou art alone, And thou shalt liue in health when I am gone.

Dor. I will engraue these preceps in my heart, And as the wind with calmnesse woes you hence, 180 Euen so I wish the heauens in all mishaps, May blesse my father with continuall grace.

K. of E. Then son farwell, the fauouring windes inuites vs to depart. Long circumstance in taking princely leaues, Is more officious then conuenient. Brother of Scotland, loue me in my childe, You greet me well, if so you will her good.

K. of Sc. Then louely Doll, and all that fauor me, Attend to see our English friends at sea, Let all their charge depend vpon my purse: 190 They are our neighbors, by whose kind accord, We dare attempt the proudest Potentate. Onely faire Countesse, and your daughter stay, With you I haue some other thing to say.

Exeunt all saue the King, the Countesse, Ida, Ateukin, in all royaltie.

K. of S. So let them tryumph that haue cause to ioy, But wretched King, thy nuptiall knot is death: Thy Bride the breeder of thy Countries ill, For thy false heart dissenting from thy hand, 200 Misled by loue, hast made another choyce, Another choyce, euen when thou vowdst thy soule To Dorithea, Englands choyseff pride, O then thy wandring eyes bewitcht thy heart, Euen in the Chappell did thy fancie change, When periur’d man, though faire Doll had thy hand, The Scottish Idaes bewtie stale thy heart: Yet feare and loue hath tyde thy readie tongue From blabbing forth the passions of thy minde, Lest fearefull silence haue in suttle lookes 210 Bewrayd the treason of my new vowd loue, Be faire and louely Doll, but here’s the prize That lodgeth here, and entred through mine eyes, Yet how so ere I loue, I must be wise. Now louely Countesse, what reward or grace, May I imploy on you for this your zeale, And humble honors done vs in our Court, In entertainment of the English King.

Countesse. It was of dutie Prince that I haue done: And what in fauour may content me most, 220 Is, that it please your grace to giue me leaue, For to returne vnto my Countrey home.

K. of Scots. But louely Ida is your mind the same?

Ida. I count of Court my Lord, as wise men do, Tis fit for those that knowes what longs thereto: Each person to his place, the wise to Art, The Cobler to his clout, the Swaine to Cart.

K. of Sc. But Ida you are faire, and bewtie shines, And seemeth best, where pomp her pride refines.

Ida. If bewtie (as I know there’s none in me) 230 Were sworne my loue, and I his life should be: The farther from the Court I were remoued, The more I thinke of heauen I were beloued.

K. of Scots. And why?

Ida. Because the Court is counted Venus net, Where gifts and vowes for stales are often set, None, be she chaste as Vesta, but shall meete A curious toong to charme her eares with sweet.

K. of Scots. Why Ida then I see you set at naught, The force of loue. 240

Ida. In sooth this is my thoght most gratious king, That they that little proue Are mickle blest, from bitter sweets of loue: And weele I wot, I heard a shepheard sing, That like a Bee, Loue hath a little sting: He lurkes in flowres, he pearcheth on the trees, He on Kings pillowes, bends his prettie knees: The Boy is blinde, but when he will not spie, He hath a leaden foote, and wings to flie: Beshrow me yet, for all these strange effects, 250 If I would like the Lad, that so infects.

K. of Scots. Rare wit, fair face, what hart could more desire? But Doll is faire, and doth concerne thee neere. Let Doll be faire, she is wonne, but I must woe, And win faire Ida, theres some choyce in two. But Ida thou art coy.

Ida. And why dread King?

K. of Scots. In that you will dispraise so sweet A thing, as loue, had I my wish.

Ida. What then? 260

K. of Scots. Then would I place his arrow here, His bewtie in that face.

Ida. And were Apollo moued and rulde by me, His wisedome should be yours, and mine his tree.

K. of Scots. But here returnes our traine. Welcome faire Doll: how fares our father, is he shipt and gone.

Enters the traine backe.

Dor. My royall father is both shipt and gone, God and faire winds direct him to his home.

K. of Sc. Amen say I, wold thou wert with him too: 270 Then might I haue a fitter time to woo. But Countesse you would be gone, therfore farwell Yet Ida if thou wilt, stay thou behind, To accompany my Queene. But if thou like the pleasures of the Court, Or if she likte me tho she left the Court, What should I say? I know not what to say, You may depart, and you my curteous Queene, Leaue me a space, I haue a waightie cause to thinke vpon:

Id., it nips me neere: 280 It came from thence, I feele it burning heere.

Exeunt all sauing the King and Ateukin.

K. of Scot. Now am I free from sight of commõ eie, Where to my selfe I may disclose the griefe That hath too great a part in mine affects.

Ateu. And now is my time, by wiles & words to rise, Greater then those, that thinks themselues more wise.

K. of Scots. And first fond King, thy honor doth engraue, Vpon thy browes, the drift of thy disgrace: Thy new vowd loue in sight of God and men, 290 Linke thee to Dorithea, during life. For who more faire and vertuous then thy wife, Deceitfull murtherer of a quiet minde, Fond loue, vile lust, that thus misleads vs men, To vowe our faithes, and fall to sin againe. But Kings stoupe not to euery common thought, Ida is faire and wise, fit for a King: And for faire Ida will I hazard life, Venture my Kingdome, Country, and my Crowne: Such fire hath loue, to burne a kingdome downe. 300 Say Doll dislikes, that I estrange my loue, Am I obedient to a womans looke? Nay say her father frowne when he shall heare That I do hold faire Idaes loue so deare: Let father frowne and fret, and fret and die, Nor earth, nor heauen shall part my loue and I. Yea they shall part vs, but we first must meet, And wo, and win, and yet the world not seet. Yea ther’s the wound, & wounded with that thoght So let me die: for all my drift is naught. 310

Ateu. Most gratious and imperiall Maiestie,

K. of S. A little flattery more were but too much, Villaine what art thou that thus darest interrupt a Princes secrets.

Ateu. Dread King, thy vassall is a man of Art, Who knowes by constellation of the stars, By oppositions and by drie aspects, The things are past, and those that are to come.

K. of S. But where’s thy warrant to approach my presence?

Ateu. My zeale and ruth to see your graces wrong, Makes me lament, I did detract so long. 320

K. of S. If thou knowst thoughts, tell me what mean I now?

Ateu. Ile calculate the cause of those your highnesse smiles, And tell your thoughts.

K. of S. But least thou spend thy time in idlenesse, And misse the matter that my mind aimes at, Tell me what star was opposite when that was thought?

He strikes him on the eare.

Ateu. Tis inconuenient mightie Potentate, Whose lookes resembles Ioue in Maiestie, To scorne the sooth of science with contempt, 330 I see in those imperiall lookes of yours, The whole discourse of loue, Saturn combust, With direfull lookes at your natiuitie: Beheld faire Venns in her siluer orbe, I know by certaine exiomies I haue read, Your graces griefs, & further can expresse her name, That holds you thus in fancies bands.

K. of S. Thou talkest wonders.

Ateu. Nought but truth O King, Tis Ida is the mistresse of your heart, 340 Whose youth must take impression of affects, For tender twigs will bowe, and milder mindes Will yeeld to fancie be they followed well.

K. of S. What god art thou composde in humane shape, Or bold Trophonius to decide our doubts, How knowst thou this?

Ateu. Euen as I know the meanes, To worke your graces freedome and your loue: Had I the mind as many Courtiers haue, To creepe into your bosome for your coyne, 350 And beg rewards for euery cap and knee, I then would say, if that your grace would giue This lease, this manor, or this pattent seald, For this or that I would effect your loue: But Ateukin is no Parasite O Prince, I know your grace knowes schollers are but poore, And therefore as I blush to beg a fee, Your mightinesse is so magnificent You cannot chuse but cast some gift apart, To ease my bashfull need that cannot beg, 360 As for your loue, oh might I be imployd, How faithfully would Ateukin compasse it: But Princes rather trust a smoothing tongue, Then men of Art that can accept the time.

K. of Scots. Ateu. If so thy name, for so thou saist, Thine Art appeares in entrance of my loue: And since I deeme thy wisedom matcht with truth, I will exalt thee, and thy selfe alone Shalt be the Agent to dissolue my griefe. Sooth is, I loue, and Ida is my loue, 370 But my new marriage nips me neare, Ateukin: For Dorithea may not brooke th’abuse.

Ateu. These lets are but as moaths against the sun, Yet not so great, like dust before the winde: Yet not so light. Tut pacifie your grace, You haue the sword and scepter in your hand, You are the King, the state depends on you: Your will is law, say that the case were mine, Were she my sister whom your highnesse loues, She should consent, for that our liues, our goods, 380 Depend on you, and if your Queene repine, Although my nature cannot brooke of blood, And Schollers grieue to heare of murtherous deeds, But if the Lambe should let the Lyons way, By my aduise the Lambe should lose her life. Thus am I bold to speake vnto your grace, Who am too base to kisse your royall feete, For I am poore, nor haue I land nor rent, Nor countenance here in Court, but for my loue, Your Grace shall find none such within the realme. 390

K. of S. Wilt thou effect my loue, shal she be mine?

Ateu. Ile gather Moly-rocus, and the earbes, That heales the wounds of body and the minde, Ile set out charmes and spels, nought else shalbe left, To tame the wanton if she shall rebell, Giue me but tokens of your highnesse trust.

K. of S.. Thou shalt haue gold, honor and wealth inough, Winne my Loue, and I will make thee great.

Ateu. These words do make me rich most noble Prince, I am more proude of them then any wealth, 400 Did not your grace suppose I flatter you, Beleeue me I would boldly publish this: Was neuer eye that saw a sweeter face, Nor neuer eare that heard a deeper wit, Oh God how I am rauisht in your woorth.

K. of S. Ateu. Follow me, loue must haue ease.

Ateu. Ile kisse your highnesse feet, march when you please.

Exeunt.

Enter Slipper, Nano, and Andrew, with their billes readie I. ii. written in their hands. 410

Andrew. Stand back sir, mine shall stand highest.

Slip. Come vnder mine arme sir, or get a footstoole, Or else by the light of the Moone, I must come to it.

Nano. Agree my maisters, euery man to his height, Though I stand lowest, I hope to get the best maister.

Andr. Ere I will stoupe to a thistle, I will change turnes, As good lucke comes on the right hand, as the left: Here’s for me, and me, and mine.

Andr. But tell me fellowes till better occasion come, Do you seeke maisters? 420

Ambo. We doo.

Andr. But what can you do worthie preferment?

Nano. Marry I can smell a knaue from a Rat.

Slip. And I can licke a dish before a Cat.

Andr. And I can finde two fooles vnfought, How like you that? But in earnest, now tell me of what trades are you two?

Slip. How meane you that sir, of what trade? Marry Ile tell you, I haue many trades, The honest trade when I needs must, 430 The filching trade when time serues, The Cousening trade as I finde occasion. And I haue more qualities, I cannot abide a ful cup vnkist, A fat Capon vncaru’d, A full purse vnpickt, Nor a foole to prooue a Iustice as you do.

Andr. Why sot why calst thou me foole?

Nano. For examining wiser then thy selfe.

Andr. So doth many more then I in Scotland.

Nano. Yea those are such, as haue more autthoritie then wit,440 And more wealth then honestie.

Slip. This is my little brother with the great wit, ware him, But what canst thou do, tel me, that art so inquisitiue of vs?

Andr. Any thing that concernes a gentleman to do, that can I do.

Slip. So you are of the gentle trade?

Andr. True.

Slip. Then gentle sir, leaue vs to our selues, For heare comes one as if he would lack a seruant ere he went. Ent. Ateu. Why so Ateukin? this becomes thee best, Wealth, honour, ease, and angelles in thy chest: 450 Now may I say, as many often sing, No fishing to the sea, nor seruice to a king. Vnto this high promotions doth belong, Meanes to be talkt of in the thickest throng: And first to fit the humors of my Lord, Sweete layes and lynes of loue I must record. And such sweete lynes and louelayes ile endite: As men may wish for, and my leech delight, And next a traine of gallants at my heeles, That men may say, the world doth run on wheeles. 460 For men of art, that rise by indirection, To honour and the fauour of their King, Must vse all meanes to saue what they haue got, And win their fauours whom he neuer knew. If any frowne to see my fortunes such, A man must beare a little, not too much: But in good time these billes partend, I thinke, That some good fellowes do for seruice seeke.

Read. If any gentleman, spirituall or temperall, will entertaine out of his seruice, a young stripling of the age of 30. yeares, that can470 sleep with the soundest, eate with the hungriest, work with the sickest, lye with the lowdest, face with the proudest, &c. that can wait in a Gentlemans chamber, when his maister is a myle of, keepe his stable when tis emptie, and his purse when tis full, and hath many qualities woorse then all these, let him write his name and goe his way, and attendance shall be giuen.

Ateu. By my faith a good seruant, which is he?

Slip. Trulie sir that am I?

Ateu. And why doest thou write such a bill, Are all these qualities in thee? 480

Slip. O Lord I sir, and a great many more, Some bettet, some worse, some richer some porer, Why sir do you looke so, do they not please you?

Ateu. Trulie no, for they are naught and so art thou, If thou hast no better qualities, stand by.

Slip. O sir, I tell the worst first, but and you lack a man, I am for you, ile tell you the best qualities I haue.

Ateu. Be breefe then.

Slip. If you need me in your chamber, I can keepe the doore at a whistle, in your kitchin, 490 Turne the spit, and licke the pan, and make the fire burne. But if in the stable.

Ateu. Yea there would I vse thee.

Slip. Why there you kill me, there am I, And turne me to a horse & a wench, and I haue no peere.

Ateu. Art thou so good in keeping a horse, I pray thee tell me how many good qualities hath a horse?

Slip. Why so sir, a horse hath two properties of a man, That is a proude heart, and a hardie stomacke, Foure properties of a Lyon, a broad brest, a stiffe docket, 500 Hold your nose master. A wild countenance, and 4. good legs. Nine properties of a Foxe, nine of a Hare, nine of an Asse, And ten of a woman.

Ateu. A woman, why what properties of a woman hath a Horse?

Slip. O maister, know you not that? Draw your tables, and write what wise I speake. First a merry countenance. Second, a soft pace. Third, a broad forehead. Fourth, broad buttockes. 510 Fift, hard of warde. Sixt, easie to leape vpon. Seuenth, good at long iourney. Eight, mouing vnder a man. Ninth, alway busie with the mouth. Tenth. Euer chewing on the bridle.

Ateu. Thou art a man for me, whats thy name?

Slip. An auncient name sir, belonging to the Chamber and the night gowne. Gesse you that.

Ateu. Whats that, Slipper? 520

Slip. By my faith well gest, and so tis indeed: Youle be my maister?

Ateu. I meane so.

Slip. Reade this first.

Ateu. Pleaseth it any Gentleman to entertaine A seruant of more wit then stature, Let them subscribe, and attendance shall be giuen. What of this?

Slip. He is my brother sir, and we two were borne togither, Must serue togither, and will die togither, 530 Though we be both hangd.

Ateu. Whats thy name?

Nano. Nano.

Ateu. The etimologie of which word, is a dwarfe: Art not thou the old stoykes son that dwels in his Tombe?

Ambo. We are.

Ateu. Thou art welcome to me, Wilt thou giue thy selfe wholly to be at my disposition?

Nano. In all humilitie I submit my selfe.

Ateu. Then will I deck thee Princely, instruct thee courtly,540 And present thee to the Queene as my gift. Art thou content?

Nano. Yes, and thanke your honor too.

Slip. Then welcome brother, and fellow now.

Andr. May it please your honor to abase your eye so lowe, As to looke either on my bill or my selfe.

Ateu. What are you?

An. By birth a gentleman, in profession a scholler, And one that knew your honor in Edenborough, Before your worthinesse cald you to this reputation. 550 By me Andrew Snoord.

Ateu. Andrew I remember thee, follow me, And we will confer further, for my waightie affaires For the king, commands me to be briefe at this time. Come on Nano, Slipper follow.

Exeunt.

Enter sir Bartram with Eustas and others, booted. I. iii.

S. Bar. But tell me louely Eustas as thou lou’st me, Among the many pleasures we haue past, Which is the rifest in thy memorie, 560 To draw thee ouer to thine auncient friend?

Eu. What makes Sir Bartram thus inquisitiue? Tell me good knight, am I welcome or no?

Sir Bar. By sweet S. Andrew and may sale I sweare, As welcom is my honest Dick to me, As mornings sun, or as the watry moone, In merkist night, when we the borders track. I tell thee Dick, thy sight hath cleerd my thoughts, Of many banefull troubles that there woond. Welcome to sir Bartram as his life: 570 Tell me bonny Dicke, hast got a wife?

Eust. A wife God shield sir Bartram, that were ill To leaue my wife and wander thus astray: But time and good aduise ere many yeares, May chance to make my fancie bend that way, What newes in Scotland? therefore came I hither: To see your Country, and to chat togither.

Sir Bar. Why man our Countries blyth, our king is well. Our Queene so, so, the Nobles well, and worse And weele are they that were about the king, 580 But better are the Country Gentlemen. And I may tell thee Eustace, in our liues, We old men neuer saw so wondrous change: But leaue this trattle, and tell me what newes, In louely England with our honest friends?

Eust. The king, the Court, and all our noble frends Are well, and God in mercy keepe them so. The Northren Lords and Ladies here abouts, That knowes I came to see your Queen and Court, Commends them to my honest friend sir Bartram, 590 And many others that I haue not seene: Among the rest, the Countesse Elinor from Carlile Where we merry oft haue bene, Greets well my Lord, and hath directed me, By message this faire Ladies face to see.

Sir Bar. I tell thee Eustace, lest mine old eyes daze, This is our Scottish moone and euenings pride: This is the blemish of your English Bride: Who sailes by her, are sure of winde at will. Her face is dangerous, her sight is ill: 600 And yet in sooth sweet Dicke, it may be said, The king hath folly, their’s vertue in the mayd.

Eust. But knows my friend this portrait, be aduisd?

Sir Bar. Is it not Ida the Countesse of Arains daughters?

Eust. So was I told by Elinor of Carlile, But tell me louely Bartram, is the maid euil inclind, Misled, or Concubine vnto the King or any other Lord?

Ba. Shuld I be brief & true, thẽ thus my Dicke, All Englands grounds yeelds not a blyther Lasse. Nor Europ can art her for her gifts, 610 Of vertue, honour, beautie, and the rest: But our fõd king not knowing sin in lust, Makes loue by endlesse meanes and precious gifts, And men that see it dare not sayt my friend, But wee may wish that it were otherwise: But I rid thee to view the picture still, For by the persons sights there hangs som ill.

Ba. Oh good sir Bartram, you suspect I loue, Then were I mad, hee whom I neuer sawe, But how so ere, I feare not entisings, 620 Desire will giue no place vnto a king: Ile see her whom the world admires so much, That I may say with them, there liues none such.

Bar. Be Gad and sal, both see and talke with her, And when th’ hast done, what ere her beautie be, Ile wartant thee her vertues may compare, With the proudest she that waits vpon your Queen.

Eu. My Ladie intreats your Worship in to supper.

Ba. Guid bony Dick, my wife will tel thee more, Was neuer no man in her booke before: 630 Be Gad shees blyth, faire lewely, bony, &c.

Exeunt.

Enter Bohan and the fairy king after the first act, to II. Chor. them a rownd of Fairies, or some prittie dance.

Boh. Be Gad gramersis little king for this, This sport is better in my exile life, Then euer the deceitfuil werld could yeeld.

Ober. I tell thee Bohan, Oberon is king, Of quiet, pleasure, profit, and content, Of wealth, of honor, and of all the world, 640 Tide to no place, yet all are tide to one, Liue thou in this life, exilde from world and men, And I will shew thee wonters ere we part,

Boh. Then marke my stay, and the strange doubts, That follow flatterers, lust and lawlesse will, And then say I haue reason to forsake theworld, And all that are within the same. Gow shrowd vs in our harbor where weele see, The pride of folly, as it ought to be.

Exeunt. 650

After the first act.

Ober. Here see I good fond actions in thy gyg, And meanes to paint the worldes in constant waies But turne thine ene, see which for I can commaund.

Enter two battailes strongly fighting, the one Simi Ranus, the other, Staurobates, she flies, and her Crowne is taken, and she hurt.

Boh. What gars this din of mirk and balefull harme, Where euery weane is all betaint with bloud?

Ober. This shewes thee Bohan what is worldly pompe. 660

Simeranu., the proud Assirrian Queene, When Ninus died, did tene in her warres, Three millions of footemen to the fight, Fiue hundreth thousand horse, of armed chars, A hundreth thousand more yet in her pride Was hurt and conquered by S. Taurobates. Then what is pompe?

Bohan. I see thou art thine ene. Thou bonny King, if Princes fall from high, My fall is past, vntill I fall to die. 670 Now marke my talke, and prosecute my gyg.

2.

Ober.

How shuld these crafts withdraw thee from the world?

But looke my

Bohan

, pompe allureth.

Enter Cirus king, humbling themselues: himselfe crowned by Oliue Pat, at last dying, layde in a marbell tombe with this inscription

Who so thou bee that passest,

For I know one shall passe, knowe I

I am

Cirus

of

Persia

,

680

And I prithee leaue me not thus like a clod of clay

Wherewith my body is couered.

All exeunt.

Enter the king in great pompe, who reads it, & issueth, crieth vermeum.

Boha. What meaneth this?

Ober. Cirus of Persia, Mightie in life, within a marbell graue, Was layde to rot, whom Alexander once Beheld in tombde, and weeping did confesse 690 Nothing in life could scape from wrethednesse: Why then boast men?

Boh. What recke I then of life, Who makes the graue my tomb, the earth my wife: But marke mee more.

3.

Boh. I can no more, my patience will not warpe. To see these flatteries how they scorne and carpe.

Ober. Turne but thy head.

Enter our kings carring Crowns, Ladies presenting odors

700

to Potentates in thrond, who suddainly is slaine

by his seruaunts, and thrust out, and so they eate.

Exeunt.

Sike is the werld, but whilke is he I sawe.

Ober. Sesostris who was conquerour of the werld, Slaine at the last, and stampt on by his slaues.

Boh. How blest are peur men then that know their graue, Now marke the sequell of my Gig.

Boh. An he weele meete ends: the mirk and sable night Doth leaue the pering morne to prie abroade, 710 Thou nill me stay, haile then thou pride of kings, I ken the world, and wot well worldly things, Marke thou my gyg, in mirkest termes that telles The loathe of sinnes, and where corruption dwells Haile me ne mere with showes of gudlie sights: My graue is mine, that rids me from dispights. Accept my gig guid King, and let me rest, The graue with guid men, is a gay built nest.

Ober. The rising sunne doth call me hence away, Thankes for thy gyg, I may no longer stay: 720 But if my traine, did wake thee from thy rest, So shall they sing, thy lullabie to nest.

Actus Secundus. Schena Prima. II. i.

Enter the Countesse of Arrain, with Ida her daughter in theyr porch, sitting at worke.

A Song.

Count. Faire Ida, might you chuse the greatest good Midst all the world, in blessings that abound: Wherein my daughter shuld your liking be?

Ida. Not in delights, or pompe, or maiestie. 730

Count. And why?

Ida. Since these are meanes to draw the minde From perfect good, and make true iudgement blind.

Count. Might you haue wealth, and fortunes ritchest store?

Ida. Yet would I (might I chuse) be honest poore. For she that sits at fortunes feete alowe Is sure she shall not taste a further woe. But those that prancke one top of fortunes ball, Still feare a change: and fearing catch a fall.

Count. Tut foolish maide, each one contemneth need. 740

Ida. Good reasõ why, they know not good indeed.

Count. Many marrie then, on whom distresse doth loure,

Ida. Yes they that vertue deeme an honest dowre. Madame, by right this world I may compare, Vnto my worke, wherein with heedfull care, The heauenly workeman plants with curious hand, As I with needle drawe each thing one land, Euen as hee list, some men like to the Rose, Are fashioned fresh, some in their stalkes do close, And borne do suddaine die: some are but weeds, 750 And yet from them a secret good proceeds: I with my needle if I please may blot, The fairest rose within my cambricke plot, God with a becke can change each worldly thing, The poore to earth, the begger to the king. What then hath man, wherein hee well may boast, Since by a becke he liues, a louer is lost?

Enter Eustace with letters.

Count. Peace Ida, heere are straungers neare at hand.

Eust. Madame God speed. 760

Count. I thanke you gentle squire.

Eust. The countrie Countesse of Northumberland, Doth greete you well, and hath requested mee, To bring these letters to your Ladiship.

He carries the letter.

Count.

I thanke her honour, and your selfe my friend.

Shee receiues and peruseth them.

I see she meanes you good braue Gentleman,

Daughter, the Ladie

Elinor

salutes

Your selfe as well as mee, then for her sake

770

T’were good you entertaind that Courtiour well.

Ida. As much salute as may become my sex, And hee in vertue can vouchsafe to thinke, I yeeld him for the courteous Countesse sake. Good sir sit downe, my mother heere and I, Count time mispent, an endlesse vanitie.

Eust. Beyond report, the wit, the faire, the shape, What worke you heere, faire Mistresse may I see it?

Id. Good Sir looke on, how like you this compact?

Eust. Me thinks in this I see true loue in act: 780 The Woodbines with their leaues do sweetly spred, The Roses blushing prancke them in their red, No flower but boasts the beauties of the spring, This bird hath life indeed if it could sing: What meanes faire Mistres had you in this worke?

Ida. My needle sir.

Eust. In needles then there lurkes, Some hidden grace I deeme beyond my reach.

Id. Not grace in thẽ good sir, but those that teach.

Eust. Say that your needle now were Cupids sting, 790 But ah her eie must bee no lesse, In which is heauen and heauenlinesse, In which the foode of God is shut, Whose powers the purest mindes do glut.

Ida. What if it were?

Eust. Then see a wondrous thing, I feare mee you would paint in Teneus heart, Affection in his power and chiefest parts.

Ida. Good Lord sir no, for hearts but pricked soft, Are wounded sore, for so I heare it oft. 800

Eust. what recks the second, Where but your happy eye, May make him liue, whom Ioue hath iudgd to die.

Ida. Should life & death within this needle lurke, Ile pricke no hearts, Ile pricke vpon my worke.

Enter Ateuken, with Slipper the Clowne.

Coun. Peace Ida, I perceiue the fox at hand.

Eust. The fox? why fetch your hounds & chace him hence.

Count. Oh sir these great men barke at small offence.

Ateu.

Come will it please you to enter gentle sir?

810

Offer to exeunt.

Stay courteous Ladies, fauour me so much,

As to discourse a word or two apart.

Count. Good sir, my daughter learnes this rule of mee, To shun resort, and straungers companie: For some are shifting mates that carrie letters, Some such as you too good, because our betters.

Slip. Now I pray you sir what a kin are you to a pickrell?

Ateu. Why knaue?

Slip. By my troth sir, because I neuer knew a proper scituation820 fellow of your pitch, fitter to swallow a gudgin.

Ateu. What meanst thou by this?

Slip. Shifting fellow sir, these be thy words, shifting fellow: This Gentlewoman I feare me, knew your bringing vp.

Ateu. How so?

Slip. Why sir your father was a Miller, That could shift for a pecke of grist in a bushell, And you a faire spoken Gentleman, that can get more land by a lye, then an honest man by his readie mony.

Ateu. Catiue what sayest thou? 830

Slip. I say sir, that if shee call you shifting knaue, You shall not put her to the proofe.

Ateu. And why?

Slip. Because sir, liuing by your wit as you doo shifting, is your letters pattents, it were a hard matter for mee to get my dinner that day, wherein my Maister had not solde a dozen of deuices, a case of cogges, and a shute of shifts in the morning: I speak this in your commendation sir, & I pray you so take it.

Ateu. If I liue knaue I will bee reuenged, what Gentleman would entertaine a rascall, thus to derogate from his honour? 840

Ida. My Lord why are you thus impatient?

Ateu. Not angrie Ida, but I teach this knaue, How to behaue himselfe among his betters: Behold faire Countesse to assure your stay, I heere present the signet of the king, Who now by mee faire Ida doth salute you: And since in secret I haue certaine things, In his behalfe good Madame to impart, I craue your daughter to discourse a part.

Count. Shee shall in humble dutie bee addrest, 850 To do his Highnesse will in what shee may.

Id. Now gentle sir what would his grace with me?

Ateu. Faire comely Nimph, the beautie of your face, Sufficient to bewitch the heauenly powers, Hath wrought so much in him, that now of late Hee findes himselfe made captiue vnto loue, And though his power and Maiestie requires, A straight commaund before an humble sute, Yet hee his mightinesse doth so abase, As to intreat your fauour honest maid. 860

Ida. Is hee not married sir vnto our Queen?

Ateu. Hee is.

Ida. And are not they by God accurst, That seuer them whom hee hath knit in one?

Ateu. They bee: what then? wee seeke not to displace The Princesse from her seate, but since by loue The king is made your owne, shee is resolude In priuate to accept your dalliance, In spight of warre, watch, or worldly eye.

Ida. Oh how hee talkes as if hee should not die, 870 As if that God in iustice once could winke, Vpon that fault I am a sham’d to thinke.

Ateu. Tut Mistresse, man at first was born to erre, Women are all not formed to bee Saints: Tis impious for to kill our natiue king, Whom by a little fauour wee may saue.

Ida. Better then liue vnchaste, to liue in graue.

Ateu. Hee shall erect your state & wed you well.

Ida. But can his warrant keep my soule from hell?

Ateu. He will inforce, if you resist his sute. 880

Id. What tho, the world may shame to him account To bee a king of men and worldly pelfe.

Ateu. Yet hath to power no rule and guide himselfe, I know you gentle Ladie and the care, Both of your honour and his graces health, Makes me confused in this daungerous state.

Ida. So counsell him, but sooth thou not his sinne, Tis vaine alurement that doth make him loue, I shame to heare, bee you a shamde to mooue.

Count. I see my daughter growes impatient, 890 I feare me hee pretends some bad intent.

Ateu. Will you dispise the king, & scorne him so?

Ida. In all alleageance I will serue his grace, But not in lust, oh how I blush to name it?

Ateu. An endlesse worke is this, how should I frame it?

They discourse priuately.

Slip. Oh Mistresse may I turne a word vpon you.

Ateu. Friend what wilt thou?

Slip. Oh what a happie Gentlewoman bee you trulie, the world reports this of you Mistresse, that a man can no sooner 900 come to your house, but the Butler comes with a blacke Iack and sayes welcome friend, heeres a cup of the best for you, verilie Mistresse you are said to haue the best Ale in al Scotland.

Count. Sirrha go fetch him drinke, how likest thou this?

Slip. Like it Mistresse? why this is quincy quarie pepper de watchet, single goby, of all that euer I tasted: Ile prooue in this Ale and tost, the compasse of the whole world. First this is the earth, it ties in the middle a faire browne tost, a goodly countrie for hungrie teeth to dwell vpon: next this is the sea, a fair poole for a drie tõgue to fish in: now come I, & seing the 910 world is naught, I diuide it thus, & because the sea cãnot stand without the earth, as Arist. saith, I put thẽ both into their first Chaos which is my bellie, and so mistresse you may see your ale is become a myracle.

Eustace. A merrie mate Madame I promise you.

Count. Why sigh you sirrah?

Slip. Trulie Madam, to think vppon the world, which since I denoũced, it keepes such a rumbling in my stomack, that vnlesse your Cooke giue it a counterbuffe with some of your rosted Capons or beefe, I feare me I shal become a loose body, so 920 daintie I thinke, I shall neither hold fast before nor behinde.

Count. Go take him in and feast this merrie swaine, Syrrha, my cooke is your phisitian. He hath a purge for to disiest the world.

Ateu. Will you not, Ida, grant his highnesse this?

Ida. As I haue said, in dutie I am his: For other lawlesse lusts, that ill beseeme him, I cannot like, and good I will not deeme him.

Count. Ida come in, and sir if so you please, Come take a homelie widdowes intertaine. 930

Ida. If he haue no great haste, he may come nye. If haste, tho he be gone, I will not crie.

Exeunt.

Ateu. I see this labour lost, my hope in vaine, Yet will I trie an other drift againe.

Enter the Bishop of S. Andrewes, Earle Douglas, II. ii. Morton, with others, one way, the Queene with Dwarfes an other way.

B. S. Andr. Oh wrack of Cõmon-weale! Oh wretched state!

Doug. Oh haplesse flocke whereas the guide is blinde? 940

They all are in a muse.

Mort. Oh heedlesse youth, where counsaile is dispis’d.

Dorot. Come prettie knaue, and prank it by my side, Lets see your best attendaunce out of hande.

Dwarfe. Madame altho my lims are very small, My heart is good, ile serue you therewithall.

Doro. How if I were assaild, what couldst thou do?

Dwarf. Madame call helpe, and boldly fight it to, Altho a Bee be but a litle thing: You know faire Queen, it hath a bitter sting. 950

Dor. How couldst thou do me good were I in greefe?

Dwar. Counsell deare Princes, is a choyce releefe. Tho Nestor wanted force, great was his wit, And tho I am but weake, my words are fit.

S. And. Like to a ship vpon the Ocean seas, Tost in the doubtfull streame without a helme, Such is a Monarke without good aduice, I am ore heard, cast raine vpon thy tongue, Andrewes beware, reproofe will breed a fear.

Mor. Good day my Lord. 960

B. S. And. Lord Morton well ymet: Whereon deemes Lord Douglas all this while?

Dou. Of that which yours and my poore heart doth breake: Altho feare shuts our mouths we dare not speake.

Dor. What meane these Princes sadly to consult? Somewhat I feare, betideth them amisse, They are so pale in lookes, so vext in minde: In happie houre the Noble Scottish Peeres Haue I incountred you, what makes you mourne?

B. S. And. If we with patience may attentiue gaine, 970 Your Grace shall know the cause of all our griefe.

Dor. Speake on good father, come and sit by me: I know thy care is for the common good.

B. S. And. As fortune mightie Princes reareth some, To high estate, and place in Common-weale, So by diuine bequest to them is lent, A riper iudgement and more searching eye: Whereby they may discerne the common harme, For where importunes in the world are most, Where all our profits rise and still increase, 980 There is our minde, thereon we meditate, And what we do partake of good aduice, That we imploy for to concerne the same.) To this intent these nobles and my selfe, That are (or should bee) eyes of Common-weale, Seeing his highnesse reachlesse course of youth His lawlesse and vnbridled vaine in loue, His to intentiue trust too flatterers, His abiect care of councell and his friendes, Cannot but greeue, and since we cannot drawe 990 His eye or Iudgement to discerne his faults Since we haue spake and counsaile is not heard, I for my part, (let others as they list) Will leaue the Court, and leaue him to his will: Least with a ruthfull eye I should behold, His ouerthrow which sore I feare is nye.

Doro. Ah father are you so estranged from loue, From due alleageance to your Prince and land, To leaue your King when most he needs your help, The thriftie husbandmen, are neuer woont 1000 That see their lands vnfruitfull, to forsake them: But when the mould is barraine and vnapt, They toyle, they plow, and make the fallow fatte: The pilot in the dangerous seas is knowne, In calmer waues the sillie sailor striues, Are you not members Lords of Common-weale, And can your head, your deere annointed King, Default ye Lords, except your selues do faile? Oh stay your steps, returne and counsaile him.

Doug. Men seek not mosse vpon a rowling stone, 1010 Or water from the siue, or fire from yce: Or comfort from a rechlesse monarkes hands. Madame he sets vs light that seru’d in Court, In place of credit in his fathers dayes, If we but enter presence of his grace, Our payment is a frowne, a scoffe, a frumpe, Whilst flattering Gnato prancks it by his side, Soothing the carelesse King in his misdeeds, And if your grace consider your estate, His life should vrge you too if all be true. 1020

Doug. Why Douglas why?

Doug. As if you haue not heard His lawlesse loue to Ida growne of late, His carelesse estimate of your estate.

Doro. Ah Douglas thou misconstrest his intent, He doth but tempt his wife, he tryees my loue: This iniurie pertaines to me, not to you. The King is young, and if he step awrie, He may amend, and I will loue him still. Should we disdaine our vines becauso they sprout 1030 Before their time? or young men if they straine Beyõd their reach? no vines that bloome and spread Do promise fruites, and young men that are wilde, In age growe wise, my freendes and Scottish Peeres, If that an English Princesse may preuaile, Stay, stay with him, lo how my zealous prayer Is plead with teares, fie Peeres will you hence?

S. And. Madam tis vertue in your grace to plead, But we that see his vaine vntoward course, Cannot but flie the fire before it burne, 1040 And shun the Court before we see his fall.

Doro. Wil you not stay? then Lordings fare you well. Tho you forsake your King, the heauens I hope Will fauour him through mine incessant prayer.

Dwar. Content you Madam, thus old Ouid sings. Tis foolish to bewaile recurelesse things.

Dorothea. Peace Dwarffe, these words my patience moue.

Dwar. All tho you charme my speech, charme not my loue

Exeunt Nano Dorothea.

Enter the King of Scots, Arius, the nobles spying 1050 him, returnes.

K. of S. Douglas how now? why changest thou thy cheere?

Dougl. My priuate troubles are so great my liege, As I must craue your licence for a while: For to intend mine owne affaires at home. Exit.

King. You may depart, but why is Morton sad?

Mor. The like occasion doth import me too, So I desire your grace to giue me leaue.

K. of S. Well sir you may betake you to your ease, When such grim syrs are gone, I see no let 1060 To worke my will.

8. Atten. What like the Eagle then, With often flight wilt thou thy feathers loose? O King canst thou indure to see thy Court, Of finest wits and Iudgements dispossest, Whilst cloking craft with soothing climbes so high, As each bewailes ambition is so bad? Thy father left thee with estate and Crowne, A learned councell to direct thy Court, These careleslie O King thou castest off, 1070 To entertaine a traine of Sicophants: Thou well mai’st see, although thou wilt not see, That euery eye and eare both sees and heares The certaine signes of thine inconstinence: Thou art alyed vnto the English King, By marriage a happie friend indeed, If vsed well, if not a mightie foe. Thinketh your grace he ean indure and brooke, To haue a partner in his daughters loue? Thinketh your grace the grudge of priuie wrongs 1080 Will not procure him chaunge his smiles to threats? Oh be not blinde to good, call home your Lordes, Displace these flattering Gnatoes, driue them hence: Loue and with kindnesse take your wedlocke wife Or else (which God forbid) I feare a change, Sinne cannot thriue in courts without a plague.

K. of S. Go pack thou too, vnles thou mẽd thy talk: On paine of death proud Bishop get you gone, Vnlesse you headlesse mean to hoppe away.

8. Atten. Thou god of heauẽ preuent my countries fall. 1090

Exeunt.

K. of S. These staies and lets to pleasure, plague my thoughts, Forcing my greeuous wounds a new to bleed: Bur care that hath transported me so farre, Faire Ida is disperst in thought of thee: Whose answere yeeldes me life, or breeds my death: Yond comes the messenger of weale or woe.

Enter Gnato.

Ateuki. What newes?

Ateu. The adament o King will not be filde, 1100 But by it selfe, and beautie that exceeds, By some exeeding fauour must be wrought, Ida is coy as yet, and doth repine, Obiecting marriage, honour, feare, and death, Shee’s holy, wise, and too precise for me.

K. of S. Are these thy fruites of wits, thy sight in Art? Thine eloquence? thy pollicie? thy drift? To mocke thy Prince, thẽ catiue packe thee hence, And let me die deuoured in my loue.

Ateu. Good Lord how rage gainsayeth reasons power, 1110 My deare, my gracious, and beloued Prince, The essence of my sute, my God on earth, Sit downe and rest your selfe, appease your wrath, Least with a frowne yee wound me to the death: Oh that I were included in my graue, That eyther now to saue my Princes life, Must counsell crueltie, or loose my King.

K. of S. Why sirrha, is there meanes to mooue her minde?

Ateu. Oh should I not offend my royall liege.

K. of S. Tell all, spare nought, so I may gaine my loue. 1120

Ateu. Alasse my soule why art thou torne in twaine, For feare thou talke a thing that should displease?

K. of S. Tut, speake what so thou wilt I pardon thee.

Ateu. How kinde a word, how courteous is his grace: Who would not die to succour such a king? My liege, this louely mayde of modest minde, Could well incline to loue, but that shee feares, Faire Dorotheas power, your grace doth know, Your wedlocke is a mightie let to loue: Were Ida sure to bee your wedded wife, 1130 That then the twig would bowe, you might command. Ladies loue, presents pompe and high estate.

K. of S. Ah Ateukin, how shuld we display this let?

Ateu. Tut mightie Prince, oh that I might bee whist.

K. of S. Why dalliest thou?

Ateu. I will not mooue my Prince, I will preferre his safetie before my life: Heare mee ô king, tis Dorotheas death, Must do you good.

K. of S. What, murther of my Queene? 1140 Yet to enioy my loue, what is my Queene? Oh but my vowe and promise to my Queene: I but my hope to gaine a fairer Queene, With how contrarious thoughts am I with drawne? Why linger I twixt hope and doubtfull feare: If Dorothe die, will Ida loue?

Ateu. Shee will my Lord.

K. of S. Then let her die. Deuise, aduise the meanes, Al likes me wel that lends me hope in loue. 1150

Ateu. What will your grace consent, then let mee worke: Theres heere in Court a Frenchman Iaques calde, A fit performer of our enterprise, Whom I by gifts and promise will corrupt, To slaye the Queene, so that your grace will seale A warrant for the man to saue his life.

K. of S. Nought shall he want, write thou and I wil signe And gentle Gnato, if my Ida yeelde, Thon shalt haue what thou wilt, Ile giue the straight, A Barrony, an Earledome for reward. 1160

Ateu. Frolicke young king, the Lasse shall bee your owne, Ile make her blyth and wanton by my wit.

Exennt.

Enter Bohan with Obiron. III. Chor.

3. Act.

Boh. So Oberon, now it beginnes to worke in kinde, The auncient Lords by leauing him aliue, Disliking of his humors and respight, Lets him run headlong till his flatterers, Sweeting his thoughts of lucklesse lust, 1170 With vile perswations and alluring words, Makes him make way by murther to his will, Iudge fairie king, hast heard a greater ill?

Ober. Nor send more vertue in a countrie mayd, I tell the Bohan it doth make me merrie, To thinke the deeds the king meanes to performe.

Boha. To change that humour stand and see the rest, I trow my sonne Slipper will shewes a iest.

Enter Slipper with a companion, bog, or wench, dauncing a hornpipe, and daunce out againe. 1180

Boha. Now after this beguiling of our thoughts, And changing them from sad to better glee, Lets to our sell, and sit and see thee rest, For I beleeue this Iig will prooue no iest. Exeunt.

Chorus Actus 3. Schena Prima. III. i.

Enter Slipper one way, and S. Bartram another way.

Bar. Ho fellow, stay and let me speake with thee.

Sli. Fellow, frend thou doest disbuse me, I am a Gentlemã.

Bar. A Gentleman, how so?

Slip. Why I rub horses sir. 1190

Bar. And what of that?

Sip. Oh simple witted, marke my reason, they that do good seruice in the Common-weale are Gentlemen, but such as rub horses do good seruice in the Common-weale, Ergo tarbox Maister Courtier, a Horse-keeper is a Gentleman.

Bar. Heere is ouermuch wit in good earnest: But sirrha where is thy Maister?

Slip. Neither aboue ground nor vnder ground, Drawing out red into white, Swallowing that downe without chawing, 1200 That was neuer made without treading.

Bar. Why where is hee then?

Slip. Why in his seller, drinking a cup of neate and briske claret, in a boule of siluer: Oh sir the wine runnes trillill down his throat, which cost the poore viutnerd many a stampe before it was made: but I must hence sir, I haue haste.

Bar. Why whither now I prithee?

Slip. Faith sir, to Sir Siluester a Knight hard by, vppon my Maisters arrand, whom I must certifie this, that the lease of Est Spring shall bee confirmed, and therefore must I bid him1210 prouide trash, for my Maister is no friend without mony.

Bar. This is the thing for which I sued so long, This is the lease which I by Guatoes meanes, Sought to possesse by pattent from the King: But hee iniurious man, who liues by crafts, And selles kings fauours for who will giue most, Hath taken bribes of mee, yet couertly Will sell away the thing pertaines to mee: But I haue found a present helpe I hope, For to preuent his purpose and deceit: 1220 Stay gentle friend.

Slip. A good word, thou haste won me, This word is like a warme candle to a colde stomacke.

Bar. Sirra wilt thou for mony and reward, Conuay me certaine letters out of hand, From out thy maisters pocket.

Slip. Will I sir, why, were it to rob my father, hang my mother, or any such like trifles, I am at your commaundement sir, what will you giue me sir?

S. Bar. A hundreth pounds. 1230

Slip. I am your man, giue me earnest, I am dead at a pocket sir, why I am a lifter maister, by my occupation.

S. Bar. A lifter, what is that?

Slip. Why sir, I can lift a pot as well as any man, and picke a purse assoone as any theefe in my countrie.

S. Bar. Why fellow hold, heere is earnest, Ten pound to assure thee, go dispatch, And bring it me to yonder Tauerne thou seest, And assure thy selfe thou shalt both haue Thy skin full of wine, and the rest of thy mony. 1240

Slip. I will sir. Now roome for a Gentleman, my maisters, who giues mee mony for a faire new Angell, a trimme new Angell?

Exeunt.

Enter Andrew and Purueyer. III. ii.

Pur. Sirrha, I must needes haue your maisters horses, The king cannot bee vnserued.

And. Sirrha you must needs go without them, Because my Maister must be serued.

Pur. Why I am the kings Purueyer, 1250 And I tell thee I will haue them.

And. I am Ateukins seruant, Signior Andrew, And I say thou shalt not haue them.

Pur. Heeres my ticket, denie it if thou darst.

And. There is the stable, fetch them out if thou darst.

Pur. Sirrha, sirrha, tame your tongue, least I make you.

And. Sirrha, sirrha, hold your hand, least I bum you.

Pur. I tell thee, thy Maisters geldings are good, And therefore fit for the king.

An. I tell thee, my Maisters horses haue gald backes, 1260 And therefore cannot fit the King. Purueyr, Purueyer, puruey thee of more wit, darst thou presume to wrong my Lord Ateukins, being the chiefest man in Court.

Pur. The more vnhappie Common-weale, Where flatterers are chiefe in Court.

And. What sayest thou?

Pur. I say thon art too presumptuous, And the officers shall schoole thee.

And. A figge for them and thee Purueyer, 1270 They seeke a knot in a ring, that would wrong My maister or his seruants in this Court.

Enter Iaques.

Pur. The world is at a wise passe, When Nobilitie is a fraid of a flatterer.

Iaq. Sirrha, what be you that parley, contra Monsieur my Lord Ateukin, en bonne foy, prate you against syr Altesse, mee maka your test to leap from your shoulders, per ma foy cy fere ie.

And. Oh signior Captaine, you shewe your selfe a forward 1280 and friendly Gentleman in my Maisters behalfe, I will cause him to thanke you.

Iaq. Poultron speake me one parola against my bon Gentilhome, I shal estrampe your guttes, and thumpe your backa, that you no poynt mannage this tenne ours.

Pur. Sirrha come open me the stable, And let mee haue the horses: And fellow, for all your French bragges I will doo my dutie.

And. Ile make garters of thy guttes, Thou villaine if thou enter this office. 1290

Iaq. Mort lieu, take me that cappa Pour nostre labeur, be gonne villein in the mort.

Pur. What will you resist mee then? Well the Councell fellow, Shall know of your insolency.

Exit.

Andr. Tell them what thou wilt, and eate that I can best spare from my backe partes, and get you gone with a vengeance.

Enter Gnato.

Ateu. Andrew. 1300

Andr. Sir.

Ateu. Where be my writings I put in my pocket last night.

Andr. Which sir, your annoations vpon Matchauell?

Ateu. No sir, the letters pattents for east spring.

An. Why sir you talk wonders to me, if you ask that questiõ.

Ateu. Yea sir, and wil work wonders too, which you vnlesse you finde them out, villaine search me them out and bring thẽ me, or thou art but dead.

Andr. A terrible word in the latter end of a sessions. Master were you in your right wits yesternight? 1310

Ateu. Doest thou doubt it?

Andr. I and why not sir, for the greatest Clarkes are not the wisest, and a foole may dance in a hood, as wel as a wise man in a bare frock: besides such as giue themselues to Plulantia, as you do maister, are so cholericke of complection, that that which they burne in fire ouer night, they seeke for with furie the next morning. Ah I take care of your worship, this common-weale should haue a great losse of so good a member as you are.

Ateu. Thou flatterest me. 1320

Andr. Is it flatterie in me sir to speake you faire? What is it then in you to dallie with the King?

Ateu. Are you prating knaue, I will teach you bettet nurture? Is this the care you haue of my wardrop? Of my accounts, and matters of trust?

Andr. Why alasse sir, in times past your garments haue beene so well inhabited, as your Tenants woulde giue no place to a Moathe to mangle them, but since you are growne greater and your Garments more fine and gaye, 1330 if your garments are not fit for hospitallitie, blame your pride, and commend my cleanlinesse: as for yout writings, I am not for them, nor they for mee.

Ateu. Villaine go, flie, finde them out: If thou loosest them, thou loosest my credit.

And. Alasse sir? can I loose that you neuer had.

Ateu. Say you so, then hold feel you that you neuer felt.

Ia. Oh Monsieur, aies patient, pardon your pouure vallet, Me bee at your commaundement.

Ateu. Signior Iaques wel met, you shall commaund me,1340 Sirra go cause my writings be proclamed in the Market place, Promise a great reward to them that findes them, Looke where I supt and euery where.

And. I will sir, now are two knaues well met, and three well parted, if you conceiue mine enigma, Gentlemen what shal I bee then, faith a plaine harpe shilling. Exeunt.

Ateu. Sieur Iaques, this our happy meeting hides, Your friends and me, of care and greeuous toyle, For I that looke into deserts of men, And see among the souldiers in this court, 1350 A noble forward minde, and iudge thereof, Cannot but seeke the meanes to raise them vp: Who merrit credite in the Common-weale. To this intent friend Iaque I haue found A meanes to make you great, and well esteemd, Both with the king, and with the best in Court: For I espie in you a valiant minde, Which makes mee loue, admire, and honour you: To this intent (if so your trust and faith, Your secrecie be equall with your force) 1360 I will impart a seruice to thy selfe, Which if thou doest effect, the King, my selfe, And what or hee, and I with him can worke, Shall be imployd in what thou wilt desire.

Iaq. Me sweara by my ten bones, my singniar, to be loyal to your Lordships intents, affaires, ye my monsignieur, qui non fera ic pour. Yea pleasure? By my sworda me be no babie Lords.

Ateu. Then hoping one thy truth, I prithe see, How kinde Ateukin is to forward mee, 1370 Hold take this earnest pennie of my loue. And marke my words, the King by me requires, No slender seruice Iaques at thy hands. Thou must by privie practise make a way, The Queene faire Dorethea as she sleepes: Or how thou wilt, so she be done to death: Thou shalt not want promotion heare in Court.

Iaq. Stabba the woman, per ma foy, monsignieur, me thrusta my weapon into her belle, so me may be gard per le roy. Mee de your seruice. 1380 But me no be hanged pur my labor.

Ateu. Thou shalt haue warrant Iaques from the King, None shall outface, gainsay and wrong my friend. Do not I loue thee Iaques? feare not then, I tell thee who so toucheth thee in ought, Shall iniure me, I loue, I tender thee: Thou art a subiect fit to serue his grace, Iaques, I had a written warrant once, But that by great misfortune late is lost, Come wend we to S. Andrewes, where his grace 1390 Is now in progresse, where he shall assure Thy safetie, and confirme thee to the act.

Iaques. We will attend your noblenesse.

Exeunt.

Enter Sir Bartram, Dorothea, the Queene, III. iii. Nano, Lord Ross. Ladies attendants.

Doro. Thy credite Bartram in the Scottish Court,, Thy reuerend yeares, the stricknesse of thy vowes, All these are meanes sufficient to perswade, 1400 But loue the faithfull lincke of loyall hearts, That hath possession of my constant minde, Exiles all dread, subdueth vaine supect, Me thinks no craft should harbour in that brest, Where Maiestie and vertue is mstaled: Me thinke my beautie should not cause my death.

Bar. How gladly soueraigne Princesse would I erre, And binde my shame to saue your royall life: Tis Princely in your selfe to thinke the best, To hope his grace is guiltlesse of this crime, 1410 But if in due preuention you default, How blinde are you that were forwarnd before.

Doro. Suspition without cause deserueth blame.

Bar. Who sees, and shunne not harmes, deserue the same: Beholde the tenor of this traiterous plot.

Doro. What should I reade? Perhappes he wrote it not.

Bar. Heere is his warrant vnder seale and signe, To Iaques borne in France to murther you.

Doro. Ah carelesse King, would God this were not thine What tho I reade? Ah should I thinke it true? 1420

Rosse. The hand and seale confirmes the deede is his.

Doro. What know I tho, if now he thinketh this?

Nauo. Madame Lucretius faith, that to repent, Is shildish wisdome to preuent.

Doro. What tho?

Nano. Then cease your teares, that haue dismaid you, And crosse the foe before hee haue betrayed you.

Bar. What needes this long suggestions in this cause? When euery circumstance confirmeth trueth: First let the hidden mercie from aboue, 1430 Confirme your grace, since by a wondrous meanes, The practise of your daungers came to light: Next let the tokens of appooued trueth, Gouerne and stay your thoughts, too much seduc’t, And marke the sooth, and listen the intent, Your highnesse knowes, and these my noble Lords, Can witnesse this, that whilest your husbands sirre In happie peace possest the Scottish Crowne, I was his sworne attendant heere in Court, In daungerous sight I neuer fail’d my Lord. 1440 And since his death, and this your husbands raigne, No labour, dutie, haue I left vndone, To testifie my zeale vnto the Crowne: But now my limmes are weake, mine eyes are dim, Mine age vnweldie and vnmeete for toyle: I came to court in hope for seruice past, To gaine some lease to keepe me beeing olde, There found I all was vpsie turuy turnd, My friends displac’ff, the Nobles loth to craue, Then fought I to the minion of the King, 1450 Auteukin, who allured by a bribe, Assur’d me of the lease for which I fought: But see the craft, when he had got the graunt, He wrought to sell it to Sir Siluester, In hope of greater earnings from his hands: In briefe, I learnt his craft, and wrought the meanes, By one his needie seruants for reward, To steale from out his pocket all the briefes, Which hee perform’d, and with reward resignd Them when I read (now marke the power of God) 1460 I found this warrant seald among the rest, To kill your grace, whom God long keepe aliue. Thus in effect, by wonder are you sau’d, Trifle not then, bnt seeke a speakie flight, God will conduct your steppes, and shield the right.

Dor. What should I do, ah poore vnhappy Queen? Borne to indure what fortune can containe, Ah lasse the deed is too apparant now: But oh mine eyes were you as bent to hide, As my poore heart is forward to forgiue. 1470 Ah cruell king, my loue would thee acquite, Oh what auailes to be allied and matcht With high estates that marry but in shewe? Were I baser borne, my meane estate Could warrant me from this impendent harme, But to be great and happie these are twaine. Ah Rosse what shall I do, how shall I worke?

Rosse. With speedie letters to your father send, Who will reuenge you, and defend your right.

Dor. As if they kill not me, who with him fight? 1480 As if his brest be toucht, I am not wounded, As if he waild, my ioyes were not confounded: We are one heart, tho rent by hate in twaine: One soule, one essence doth our weale containe: What then can conquer him that kils not me?

Rosse. If this aduice displease, then Madame flee.

Dor. Where may I wend or trauel without feare?

Na. Where not, in changing this attire you weare?

Dor. What shall I clad me like a Country maide?

Na. The pollicie is base I am affraide. 1490

Dor. Why Nano?

Na. Aske you why? what may a Queene March foorth in homely weede and be not seene? The Rose although in thornie shrubs she spread: Is still the Rose, her beauties waxe not dead. And noble mindes altho the coate be bare, Are by their semblance knowne, how great they are

Bar. The Dwarfe saith true.

Dor. What garments likste thou than?

Na. Such as may make you seeme a proper man. 1500

Dor. He makes me blush and smile, tho I am sad.

Na. The meanest coat for safetie is not bad.

Dor. What shall I iet in breeches like a squire? Alasse poore dwarfe, thy Mistresle is vnmeete.

Na. Tut, go me thus, your cloake before your face, Your sword vpreard with queint & comely grace, If any come and question what you bee, Say you a man, and call for witnesse mee.

Dor. What should I weare a sword, to what intent?

Na. Madame for shewe, it is an ornament, 1510 If any wrong you, drawe a shining blade Withdrawes a coward theese that would inuade.

Dor. But if I strike, and hee should strike againe, What should I do? I feare I should bee slaine.

Nano. No, take it single on your dagger so, Ile teach you Madame how to ward a blow.

Do. How litle shapes much substance may include? Sir Bartram, Rosse, yee Ladies and my friends, Since presence yeelds me death, and absence life, Hence will I flie disguised like a squire, 1520 As one that seekes to liue in Itish warres, You gentle Rosse, shal furnish my depart.

Ross. Yea Prince, & die with you with all my hart, Vouchsafe me then in all extreamest states, To waight on you and serue you with my best.

Dor. To me pertaines the woe, liue then in rest: Friends fare you well, keepe secret my depart, Nano alone shall my attendant bee.

Nan. Then Madame are you mand, I warrant ye, Giue me a sword, and if there grow debate, 1530 Ile come behinde, and breake your enemies pate.

Ross. How sore wee greeue to part so soone away.

Dor. Greeue not for those that perish if they stay.

Nano. The time in words mispent, is litle woorth, Madam walke on, and let them bring vs foorth.

Exeunt.

Chorus. IV. Chor.

Ent. Boha. So these sad motions makes the faire sleepe, And sleep hee shall in quiet and content, For it would make a marbell melt and weepe 1540 To see these treasons gainst the innocent: But since shee scapes by flight to saue her life, The king may chance repent she was his wife: The rest is ruthfull, yet to beguilde the time, Tis interlast with merriment and rime.

Exeuut.

Actus Quartus. Schena Prima. IV. i.

After a noyse of hornes and showtings, enter certaine Huntsmen, if you please, singing one way: another way Ateukin and Iaques, Gnato. 1550

Ateu. Say Gentlemen, where may wee finde the king?

Hunts. Euen heere at hand on hunting. And at this houre hee taken hath a stand, To kill a Deere.

Ateu. A pleasant worke in hand, Follow your sport, and we will seeke his grace.

Hunts. When such him seeke, it is a wofull case.

Exeunt Huntsman one way, Ateu. and Iaq. another, Enter Eustace, Ida, and the Countesse. IV. ii.

Count. Lord Eustace, as your youth & vertuous life, 1560 Deserues a faire, more faire and richer wife, So since I am a mother, and do wit What wedlocke is, and that which longs to it, Before I meane my daughter to bestow, Twere meete that she and I your state did know.

Eust. Madame if I consider Idas woorth, I know my portions merrit none so faire, And yet I hold in farme and yearly rent, A thousand pound, which may her state content.

Count. But what estate my Lord shall she possesse? 1570

Eust. All that is mine, graue Countesse & no lesse. But Ida will you loue?

Ida. I cannot hate.

Eust. But will you wedde?

Ida. Tis Greeke to mee my Lord, Ile wish you well, and thereon take my word.

Eus.. Shall I some signe of fauour then receiue?

Ida. I, if her Ladiship will giue me leaue.

Count. Do what thou wilt.

Ida. Then noble English Peere, 1580 Accept this ring, wherein my heart is set, A constant heart, with burning flames befret: But vnder written this: O morte dura: Heereon when so you looke with eyes Pura, The maide you fancie most will fauour you.

Eust. Ile trie this heart, in hope to finde it true.

Enter certaine Huntsmen and ladies.

Hunts. Widdowe Countesse well ymet, Euer may thy ioyes bee many, Gentle Ida faire beset, 1590 Faire and wise, not fairer any: Frolike Huntsmen of the game, Willes you well, and giues you greeting.

Ida. Thanks good Woodman for the same, And our sport and merrie meeting.

Hunts. Vnto thee we do present, Siluer heart with arrow wounded.

Eust. This doth shadow my lament, Both feare and loue confounded.

Ladies. To the mother of the mayde, 1600 Faire as th’lillies, red as roses, Euen so many goods are saide, As her selfe in heart supposes.

Count. What are you friends, that thus doth wish vs wel?

Hunts. Your neighbours nigh, that haue on hunting beene, Who vnderstanding of your walking foorth, Prepare this traine to entertaine you with, This Ladie Douglas, this Sir Egmond is.

Count. Welcome ye Ladies, and thousand thanks for this, Come enter you a homely widdowes house, 1610 And if mine entertainment please you let vs feast.

Hunts. A louely ladie neuer wants a guest.

Exeunt Manet, Eustace, Ida.

Eust. Stay gentle Ida, tell me what you deeme, What doth this hast, this tender heart beseeme?

Ida. Why not my Lord, since nature teacheth art, To sencelesse beastes to cure their greeuous smart. Dictanum serues to close the wound againe.

Eust. What helpe for those that loue?

Ida. Why loue againe. 1620

Eust. Were I the Hart,

Ida. Then I the hearbe would bee. You shall not die for help, come follow me.

Exeunt.

Enter Andrew and Iaques. IV. iii.

Iaq. Mon Deiu, what malheure be this, me come a the chamber, Signior Andrew, Mon Deiu, taka my poinyard en mon maine, to giue the Estocade to the Damoisella, per ma foy, there was no person, elle cest en alle.

And. The woorse lucke Iaques, but because I am thy friend1630 I will aduise the somewhat towards the attainement of the gallowes.

Iaq. Gallowes, what be that?

An. Marrie sir, a place of great promotion, where thou shalt by one turne aboue ground, rid the world of a knaue, & make a goodly ensample for all bloodie villaines of thy profession.

Que ditte vous, Monsieur Andrew?

And. I say Iaques, thou must keep this path, and high thee, for the Q. as I am certified, is departed with her dwarfe, apparelled like a squire, ouertake her Frenchman, stab her, Ile 1640 promise thee this dubblet shall be happy.

Iaq. Purquoy?

And. It shall serue a iolle Gentleman, Sir Dominus Monsignior Hangman.

Iaq. Cest tout, vn me will rama pour le monoy.

And. Go, and the rot consume thee? Oh what a trim world is this? My maister lius by cousoning the king, I by fllattering him: Slipper my fellow by stealing: and I by lying: is not this a wylie accord, Gentlemen. This last night our iolly horsekeeper beeing well stept in licor, confessed to me the stealing of my Maisters writings, and his great reward: now dare I not 1650 bewraye him, least he discouer my knauerie, but thus haue I wrought: I vnderstand he will passe this way, to prouide him necessaries, but if I and my fellowes faile not, wee will teach him such a lesson, as shall cost him a chiefe place on pennilesse bench for his labour: but yond he comes.

Enter Slipper with a Tailor, a Shoomaker, and a Cutler.

Slip. Taylor.

Tayl. Sir.

Slip. Let my dubblet bee white Northren, fiue groates the yard, I tell thee I will bee braue.

Tayl. It shall sir. 1660

Slip. Now sir, cut it me like the battlements of a Custerd, ful of round holes: edge me the sleeues with Couentry-blew, and let the lynings bee of tenpenny locorum.

Tayl. Very good sir.

Slip. Make it the amorous cut, a flappe before.

Tayl. And why so? that fashion is stale.

Slip. Oh friend, thou art a simple fellow, I tell thee, a flap is a great friend to a storrie, it stands him in stead of cleane napery, and if a mans shert bee torne, it is a present penthouse to defend him from a cleane huswifes scoffe. 1670

Tay. You say sooth sir.

Slip. Holde take thy mony, there is seuen shillings for the dubblet, and eight for the breeches, seuen and eight, birladie thirtie sixe is a faire deale of mony.

Tayl. Farwell sir.

Slip. Nay but stay Taylor.

Tayl. Why sir?

Slipper. Forget not this speciall mate, Let my back parts bee well linde, For there come many winter stormes from a windie bellie, 1680 I tell thee Shoo-maker.

Shoe-ma. Gentleman what shoo will it please you to haue?

Slip. A fine neate calues leather my friend.

Shoo. Oh sir, that is too thin, it will not last you.

Slip. I tell thee, it is my neer kinsman, for I am Slipper, which hath his best grace in summer to bee suted in lakus skins, Guidwife Clarke was my Grandmother, and Goodman Neatherleather mine Vnckle, but my mother good woman. Alas, she was a Spaniard, and being wel tande and drest by a good-fellow, an Englishman, is growne to some wealth: as when I 1690 haue but my vpper parts, clad in her husbands costlie Spannish leather, I may bee bold to kisse the fayrest Ladies foote in this contrey.

Shoo. You are of high birth sir, But haue you all your mothers markes on you?

Slip. Why knaue?

Shoomaker. Because if thou come of the bloud of the Slippers, you should haue a Shoomakers Alle thrust through your eare.

Exit. 1700

Slip. Take your earnest friend and be packing, And meddle not with my progenators Cutler.

Cutler. Heare sir.

Slip. I must haue a Rapier and Dagger.

Cutler. A Rapier and Dagger you meane sir?

Slipper. Thou saiest true, but it must haue a verie faire edge,

Cutler. Why so sir?

Slip. Because it may cut by himselfe, for trulie my freende, I am a man of peace, and weare weapons but for facion.

Cutler. Well sir, giue me earnest I will fit you. 1710

Slip. Hold take it, I betrust thee friend, let me be wel armed.

Cutler. You shall. Exit Cutler.

Slip. Nowe what remaines? theres twentie Crownes for a house, three crownes for houshol stuffe, six pence to buie a Constables staffe: nay I will be the chiefe of my parish, there wants nothing but a wench, a cat, a dog, a wife and a seruant, to make an hole familie, shall I marrie with Alice, good mã Grimshaues daughter, shee is faire, but indeede her tongue is like Clocks on Shrouetuesday, alwaies out of temper? shall I wed Sisley of the Whightõ? Ohn, o she is like a frog in a parcely bed,1720 as scittish as an ele, if I seek to hãper her, she wil horne me: but a wench must be had maister Slip. Yea and shal be deer friend.

And. I now wil driue him from his contemplations. Oh my mates come forward, the lamb is vnpent, the fox shal preuaile.

Enter three Antiques, who dance round, and take Slipper with them.

Slip. I will my freend, and I thanke you heartilie, pray keepe your curtesie, I am yours in the way of an hornepipe, they are strangers, I see they vnderstand not my language, wee wee. 1730

VVhilest they are dauncing, Andrew takes away his money, and the other Antiques depart.

Slip. Nay but my friends, one hornpipe, further a refluence backe, and two doubles forward: what not one crosse point against Sundayes. What ho sirrha, you gone, you with the nose like an Eagle, and you be a right greeke, one turne more, theeues theeues, I am robd theeues. Is this the knauerie of Fidlers? Well, I will then binde the hole credit of their occupatiõ on a bagpiper, and he for my money, but I will after, and teach them to caper in a halter, that haue cousoned me of my 1740 money.

Exeunt.

Enter Nano, Dorothea, in mans apparell. IV. iv.

Doro. Ah Nano, I am wearie of these weedes, Wearie to weeld this weapon that I bare: Wearie of loue, from whom my woe proceedes. Wearie of toyle, since I haue lost my deare, O wearie life, where wanted no distresse, But euery thought is paide with heauinesse.

Na. Too much of wearie madame, if you please, 1750 Sit downe, let wearie dye, and take your ease.

Dorot. How looke I Nano like a man or no?

Nano. If not a man, yet like a manlie shrowe.

Doro. If any come and meete vs on the way, What should we do if they inforce vs stay.

Na. Set cap a huffe, and challenge him the field, Suppose the worst, the weake may fight to yeeld.

Dorot. The battaile Nano in this troubled minde, Is farre more fierce then euer we may finde. The bodies wounds by medicines may be eased, 1760 But griefes of mindes, by salues are not appealed.

Na. Say Madame, will you heare your Nano sing?

Dor. Of woe good boy, but of no other thing:

Na. What if I sing of fancie will it please?

Dor. To such as hope successe, such noats breede ease.

Na. What if I sing like Damon to my sheepe?

Dor. Like Phillis I will sit me downe to weepe.

Na. Nay since my songs afford such pleasure small, Ile sit me downe, and sing you none at all.

Doro. Oh be not angrie Nano. 1770

Nano. Nay you loath, To thinke on that, which doth content vs both.

Doro. And how?

Nano. You scorne desport when you are wearie, And loath my mirth, who liue to make you merry.

Doro. Danger and fear withdraw me from delight.

Na. Tis vertue to contemne fals Fortunes spight.

Do. What shuld I do to please thee friendly squire?

Na. A smile a day, is all I will require: And if you pay me well the smiles you owe me, 1780 Ile kill this cursed care, or else beshrowe me.

Doug. We are descried, oh Mano we are dead.

Enter Iaques his sword drawne.

Nano. Tut yet you walk, you are not dead indeed, Drawe me your sword, if he your way withstand.

Do. And I will seeke for rescue out of hand, Run Nano runne, preuent thy Princes death.

Na. Feare not, ile run all danger out of breath.

Iaq. Ah you calletta, you strumpet, ta Matressa Doretie este, vous surprius come say your pater noster, car vous est mort par ma foy1790

Do. Callet, me strumpet, Catiue as thou art But euen a Princesse borne, who scorne thy threats. Shall neuer French man say, an English mayd, Of threats of forraine force will be afraid.

Iaq. You no dire vostre prieges, vrbleme merchants famme, guarda your bresta, there me make you die on my morglay,

Doro.

God sheeld me haplesse princes and a wife.

They fight, and shee is sore wounded.

And saue my soule, altho I loose my life.

Ah I am slaine, some piteous power repay,

1800

This murtherers cursed deed, that doth me stay.

Iaq. Elle est tout mort, me will runne pur a wager, for feare me be surpryes and pendu for my labour. Be in Ie meu alera au roy auy cits me affaires, Ie serra vn chiualier, for this daies trauaile.

Exit.

Enter Nano, S. Cutbert Anderson, his sword drawne.

S. Cutb. Where is this poore distressed gentleman?

Nano. Here laid on ground, and wounded to the death. 1810 Ah gentle heart, how are these beautious lookes, Dimd by the tyrant cruelties of death: Oh wearie soule, breake thou from forth my brest, And ioyne thee with the soule I honoured most.

S. Cut. Leaue mourning friend, the man is yet aliue, Some helpe me to conuey him to my house: There will I see him carefully recured, And send priuie search to catch the murtherer.