A Select Collection of Old English Plays
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Title: A Select Collection of Old English Plays
Editor: William Carew Hazlitt
Release date: July 30, 2015 [eBook #49550]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024
Language: English
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A SELECT COLLECTION
OF
OLD ENGLISH PLAYS.
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY ROBERT DODSLEY
IN THE YEAR 1744.
_FOURTH EDITION_,
NOW FIRST CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED, REVISED AND ENLARGED,
WITH THE NOTES OF ALL THE COMMENTATORS
AND NEW NOTES
BY
W. CAREW HAZLITT.
BENJAMIN BLOM, INC.
[Illustration]
New York
NOTICE.
Since the Preface to this Work appeared, a very important augmentation
of the new matter has been decided on, and the following early Dramas,
never hitherto reprinted, have already been transcribed for insertion
in our series under their respective dates. All are of the greatest
rarity; and each, in its own way, seemed to possess literary and
illustrative value:--
Life and Death of Jack Straw, 1593.
⁂ _The first dramatisation of the story of Wat Tyler._
Mucedorus, 1598.
Look About You, 1600.
The Contention between Liberality and Prodigality, 1602.
The London Chanticleers, 1659.
Lady Alimony; or, The Alimony Lady, 1659.
⁂ _Both of the two last named are earlier than the period of
publication._
On the other hand, new collected editions of Randolph and Suckling
have quite recently been announced; and, in consequence, the “Muses’
Looking-Glass,” by the former, and Suckling’s “Goblins,” will be
excluded from the present Collection, agreeably to the principle
explained in our Preface.
W. C. H.
KENSINGTON, _May 1, 1874_.
DAMON AND PITHIAS.
_EDITIONS._
_For the titles of the two old copies, see Hazlitt’s
“Handbook,” p. 177._
MR HAZLITT’S PREFACE.[1]
Richard Edwards (the elder), a Somersetshire man, was born about the
year 1523, and is said to have received his education at Corpus
Christi College, Oxford, whence “in youthful years,” as he himself
narrates, in the “Paradise of Dainty Devices,” but not until after
August 1544, “his young desires pricked him forth to serve in court, a
slender, tall young man.” What his service at court may have been,
does not appear, and he relinquished it for a time in 1547, when he
was nominated a Senior Student of Christ Church, Oxford, then newly
founded by Henry VIII., and created M.A. Here, among other studies, he
applied himself to that of music, under George Etheridge, with a view,
probably, to further service at court. On his return to London, he
entered himself of Lincoln’s Inn, and ultimately was constituted by
Queen Elizabeth a Gentleman of the Chapel Royal, and, in 1561, Master
of the Children or singing boys of that establishment. Warton, after
stating that Edwards “united all those arts and accomplishments which
minister to popular pleasantry,” which may be very true, adds what (as
Collier points out) is unquestionably a mistake, that the children of
the chapel were first formed by him into a company of players; for
they had regularly acted plays long before.
In 1566, Edwards attended the Queen in her visit to Oxford, where he
composed a play called “Palamen and Arcite,” which was acted before
Her Majesty in Christ Church Hall.
Stow, in his “Chronicle,” mentions the name of the play, and adds that
“it had such tragical success as was very lamentable; for at that
time, by the fall of a wall and a paire of staires & great prese
(press) of the multitude, three men were slain.” “At night” (Sept. 2[2]),
writes Anthony Wood, “the Queen heard the first part of an English
play, named Palamon & Arcyte, made by M. Richard Edwards, a gentleman
of her Chapel, acted with very great applause, in Christ Church Hall,
at the beginning of which play, there was, by part of the stage which
fell, three persons slain, besides five that were hurt. Afterwards the
actors performed their parts so well, that the Queen laughed heartily
thereat, and gave the author of the play great thanks for his pains”
(quoted by Collier, “Annals of the Stage,” i., 191). “Her Majesty
also presented eight guineas to one of the young performers who gave
her peculiar satisfaction. It is fair to add, in behalf of good Queen
Bess, that from Peshall’s ‘History of the University,’ it would seem
that the Queen was not present on the occasion of the accident.” He
died on the 31st October in the same year, according to Hawkins; and
in Turbervile’s Poems, printed in 1567, are two elegiac compositions
on his decease, one by Turbervile himself, the other by Thomas Twine,
the translator of Virgil.[3]
“Edwards,” writes Collier,[4] “enjoyed a very high reputation as a
dramatic poet, but he seems to have owed much of it to the then
comparative novelty of his undertakings.” Thomas Twine, in an epitaph
upon his death, calls him--
“The flower of our realm
And Phœnix of our age,”
and specifically mentions two of his plays, “Damon and Pythias” and
“Palamon and Arcyte,” adding, however, that he had written more
equally fit for the ears of princes--
“Thy tender Tunes and Rimes
Wherein thou woont’st to play,
Eche princely Dame of Court and Towne,
Shall beare in minde alway.
Thy Damon and his Friend,
Arcyte and Palemon,
With moe full fit for princes’ eares,
Though thou from earth art gone,
Shall still remain in fame,” &c.
He is mentioned in Webbe’s “Discourse of English Poetry,” 1586, and
Puttenham, in his “Art of English Poesie,” 1589, tells us that the
Earl of Oxford (of whose dramatic productions there is no other trace)
and Edwards deserve the highest prize for “comedy and interlude; and
Lord Buckhurst and Master Edward Ferrys [George Ferrers] for tragedy.”
Meres, in his “Palladis Tamia,” 1598, repeats the applause given by
Puttenham, with the omission of the word “interlude,” then out of
fashion, terming Edwards “one of the best for comedy.”
“The earliest notice we have of Edwards as a dramatic poet,” continues
Collier, “occurs in 1564-5, when a tragedy by him, the name of which
is not given, was performed by the children of the chapel, under his
direction, before the Queen at Richmond. This might possibly be his
‘Damon and Pythias,’ termed by Lord Burghley, in the uncertain
phraseology of that time, ‘a tragedy,’ or it might be one of the other
dramatic performances of which, according to Twine, Edwards was the
author. ‘Damon and Pythias,’ however, is the only extant specimen of
his talents in this department of Poetry.” Besides his dramatic
productions, Edwards was the author of several poems in “The Paradyse
of Daynty Devises” (1576), the _sundry pithie and learned
inventions_ of which, indeed, are announced in the title to have
been “devised and written for the most part by M. Edwards, sometime
of her Majesties Chapel.” Two of these _learned inventions_ are
given by Ellis, in his “Specimen of Early English Poets,” vol. ii.,
and one of them in especial has aroused the enthusiasm of Mr Haslewood
by the happiness of the illustration, the facility, elegance, and
tenderness of the language, and the exquisite turn of the whole.[5]
“When he was in extremitie of his sickness,” writes Wood, narrating
our author’s death, “he composed a noted poem, called ‘Edwards’ Soul
Knil’ (knell), or the ‘Soul Knil of M. Edwards,’ which was commended
for a good piece. In support of this tradition, Anthony quotes
Gascoigne, whereas Gascoigne, on the contrary, only refers to the
story for the purpose of ridiculing the idea that the ‘Knil’ was
written under any such circumstances.”[6]
Among the Cotton MSS. in the British Museum are four poems by Edwards,
one of which is addressed to some court beauties of his time;[7] one
of these also is given by Mr Ellis in his “Specimens.” A part of his
song “In Commendation of Musick,” in the “Paradise of Dainty Devices,”
is given by Shakespeare, “Romeo and Juliet,” act iv., sc. 5: “Where
gripyng grief the hart would wound,” &c. Ritson mentions “An Epytaphe
of the lord of Pembroke” by Mr Edwards (1569-70); but this is merely
said to be written by a _Mr Edwardes_, and was not, at any rate,
from the pen of the author of “Damon and Pithias.”[8]
“Among the books of my friend, the late Mr William Collins, of
Chichester, now dispersed,” writes Warton,[9] “was a collection of
short comic stories in prose, printed in the black letter, and, in the
year 1570, ‘Set forth by Maister Richard Edwardes, Mayster of Her
Maiesties Revels.’ There is a mistake in assigning this office to
Edwards, for Sir Thomas Cawarden and Sir Thomas Benger were
successively Masters of the Revels in our author’s time. However,
among these tales was that of the ‘Induction of the Tinker’ in
Shakespeare’s ‘Taming of the Shrew;’ and perhaps,” writes Warton,
“Edwards’ story book was the immediate source from which Shakespeare,
or rather, the author of the old ‘Taming of the Shrew’ drew that
diverting apologue.”
The drama here reprinted from the earliest known edition of 1571,[10]
collated with that of 1582, may have been the same as the
_tragedy_ performed before Queen Elizabeth by the children of the
chapel at Christmas, 1564-5. “Although,” writes Collier, “Edwards
continued in this play to employ rhymes, he endeavoured to get rid of
some part of its monotony, by varying the length of his lines, and by
not preserving the cæsura. It was nearly new, at the date when this
piece was written, to bring stories from profane history upon the
stage. ‘Damon and Phythias’ was one of the earliest attempts of the
kind; and at any other period, and without the Queen’s extraordinary
commendation, it may at least be doubted whether Edwards would have
acquired an equal degree of notoriety.[11]
THE SPEAKERS’ NAMES.
ARISTIPPUS, _a Pleasant Gentleman_.
CARISOPHUS, _a Parasite_.
DAMON, } _Two Gentlemen of Greece_.
PITHIAS,}
STEPHANO, _Servant to Damon and Pithias_.
WILL, _Aristippus’ Lackey_.
JACK, _Carisophus’ Lackey_.
SNAP, _the Porter_.
DIONYSIUS, _the King_.
EUBULUS, _the King’s Councillor_.
GRONNO, _the Hangman_.
GRIM, _the Collier_.
THE PROLOGUE.
On every side, whereas I glance my roving eye,
Silence in all ears bent I plainly do espy:
But if your eager looks do long such toys to see,
As heretofore in comical wise were wont abroad to be,
Your lust is lost, and all the pleasures that you sought,
Is frustrate quite of toying plays. A sudden change is wrought:
For lo, our author’s muse, that masked in delight,
Hath forc’d his pen against his kind[12] no more such sports to
write.
Muse he that lust (right worshipful), for chance hath made this
change,
For that to some he seemed too much in young desires to range:
In which, right glad to please, seeing that he did offend,
Of all he humbly pardon craves: his pen that shall amend.
And yet (worshipful audience) thus much I dare avouch,
In comedies the greatest skill is this, rightly to touch
All things to the quick; and eke to frame each person so,
That by his common talk you may his nature rightly know:
A roister ought not preach, that were too strange to hear,
But as from virtue he doth swerve, so ought his words appear:
The old man is sober, the young man rash, the lover triumphing
in joys.
The matron grave, the harlot wild, and full of wanton toys.
Which all in one course they no wise do agree;
So correspondent to their kind their speeches ought to be.
Which speeches well-pronounc’d, with action lively framed,
If this offend the lookers on, let Horace then be blamed,
Which hath our author taught at school, from whom he doth not
swerve,
In all such kind of exercise decorum to observe.
Thus much for his defence (he saith), as poets earst have done,
Which heretofore in comedies the self-same race did run.
But now for to be brief, the matter to express,
Which here we shall present, is this: Damon and Pithias.
A rare ensample of friendship true, it is no legend-lie,
But a thing once done indeed, as histories do descry,
Which done of yore in long time past, yet present shall be here.
Even as it were in doing now, so lively it shall appear.
Lo, here in Syracuse th’ ancient town, which once the Romans won,
Here Dionysius palace, within whose court this thing most strange
was done.
Which matter mix’d with mirth and care, a just name to apply,
As seems most fit, we have it termed a tragical comedy.
Wherein talking of courtly toys, we do protest this flat,
We talk of Dionysius court, we mean no court but that:
And that we do so mean, who wisely calleth to mind
The time, the place, the author,[13] here most plainly shall it find.
Lo, this I speak[14] for our defence, lest of others we should be
shent:
But, worthy audience, we you pray, take things as they be meant;
Whose upright judgment we do crave with heedful ear and eye
To hear the cause and see th’ effect of this new tragical comedy.
[_Exit._
DAMON AND PITHIAS.[15]
_Here entereth_ ARISTIPPUS.
ARISTIPPUS. Tho’ strange (perhaps) it seems to some,
That I, Aristippus, a courtier am become:
A philosopher of late, not of the meanest name,
But now to the courtly behaviour my life I frame.
Muse he that list, to you of good skill,
I say that I am a philosopher still.
Loving of wisdom is termed philosophy,[16]
Then who is a philosopher so rightly as I?
For in loving of wisdom proof doth this try,
That _frustra sapit, qui non sapit sibi_.
I am wise for myself: then tell me of troth,
Is not that great wisdom, as the world go’th?
Some philosophers in the street go ragged and torn,
And feed on vile roots, whom boys laugh to scorn:
But I in fine silks haunt Dionysius’ palace,
Wherein with dainty fare myself I do solace.
I can talk of philosophy as well as the best,
But the strait kind of life I leave to the rest.
And I profess now the courtly philosophy,
To crouch, to speak fair, myself I apply,
To feed the king’s humour with pleasant devices,
For which I am called _Regius canis_.
But wot ye who named me first the king’s dog?
It was the rogue Diogenes, that vile grunting hog.
Let him roll in his tub, to win a vain praise:
In the court pleasantly I will spend all my days;
Wherein what to do I am not to learn,
What will serve mine own turn, I can quickly discern.
All my time at school I have not spent vainly,
I can help one: is not that a good point of philosophy?
_Here entereth_ CARISOPHUS.
CARISOPHUS. I beshrew your fine ears, since you came from school,
In the court you have made many a wise man a fool:
And though you paint out your feigned philosophy,
So God help me, it is but a plain kind of flattery,
Which you use so finely in so pleasant a sort,
That none but Aristippus now makes the king sport.
Ere you came hither, poor I was somebody;
The king delighted in me, now I am but a noddy.
ARISTIPPUS. In faith, Carisophus, you know yourself best,
But I will not call you noddy, but only in jest,
And thus I assure you, though I came from school
To serve in this court, I came not yet to be the king’s fool;
Or to fill his ears with servile squirrility.[17]
That office is yours, you know it right perfectly.
Of parasites and sycophants you are a grave[18] bencher,
The king feeds you often from his own trencher,
I envy not your state, nor yet your great favour,
Then grudge not at all, if in my behaviour
I make the king merry with pleasant urbanity,
Whom I never abused to any man’s injury.
CARISOPHUS. By Cock, sir, yet in the court you do[19] best thrive,
For you get more in one day than I do in five.
ARISTIPPUS. Why, man, in the court do you not see
Rewards given for virtue to every degree?
To reward the unworthy--that world is done:
The court is changed, a good thread hath been spun
Of dog’s wool heretofore, and why because it was liked,
And not for that it was best trimmed and picked:
But now men’s ears are finer, such gross toys are not set by,
Therefore to a trimmer kind of mirth myself I apply:
Wherein though I please, it cometh not of my desert,
But of the king’s favour.
CARISOPHUS. It may so be; yet in your prosperity
Despise not an old courtier: Carisophus is he,
Which hath long time fed Dionysius’ humour:
Diligently to please still at hand: there was never rumour
Spread in this[20] town of any small thing, but I
Brought it to the king in post by and by.
Yet now I crave your friendship, which if I may attain,
Most sure and unfeigned friendship I promise you again:
So we two link’d in friendship, brother and brother,
Full well in the court may help one another.
ARISTIPPUS. By’r Lady, Carisophus, though you know not philosophy,
Yet surely you are a better courtier than I:
And yet I not so evil a courtier, that will seem to despise
Such an old courtier as you, so expert and so wise.
But where as you crave mine, and offer your friendship so willingly,
With heart I give you thanks for this your great courtesy:
Assuring of friendship both with tooth and nail,
Whiles life lasteth, never to fail.
CARISOPHUS. A thousand thanks I give you, O friend Aristippus.
ARISTIPPUS. O friend Carisophus.
CARISOPHUS. How joyful am I, sith I have to friend Aristippus now?
ARISTIPPUS. None so glad of Carisophus’ friendship as I, I make God
a vow,
I speak as I think, believe me.
CARISOPHUS. Sith we are now so friendly joined, it seemeth to me,
That one of us help each other in every degree:
Prefer you my cause, when you are in presence,
To further your matters to the king let me alone in your absence.
ARISTIPPUS. Friend Carisophus, this shall be done as you would wish:
But I pray you tell me thus much by the way,
Whither now from this place will you take your journey?
CARISOPHUS. I will not dissemble, that were against friendship,
I go into the city some knaves to nip
For talk, with their goods to increase the king’s treasure,
In such kind of service I set my chief pleasure:
Farewell, friend[21] Aristippus, now for a time.
[_Exit._
ARISTIPPUS. Adieu, friend Carisophus--In good faith now,
Of force I must laugh at this solemn vow.
Is Aristippus link’d in friendship with Carisophus?
_Quid cum tanto asino talis philosophus?_
They say, _Morum similitudo consuit[22] amicitias_;
Then how can this friendship between us two come to pass?
We are as like in condition as Jack Fletcher and his bolt;[23]
I brought up in learning, but he is a very dolt
As touching good letters; but otherwise such a crafty knave,
If you seek a whole region, his like you cannot have:
A villain for his life, a varlet dyed in grain,
You lose money by him, if you sell him for one knave,[24] for he
serves for twain:
A flattering parasite, a sycophant also,
A common accuser of men, to the good an open foe.
Of half a word he can make a legend of lies,
Which he will avouch with such tragical cries,
As though all were true that comes out of his mouth.
Whereas indeed, to be hanged by and by,[25]
He cannot tell one tale, but twice he must lie.
He spareth no man’s life to get the king’s favour,
In which kind of service he hath got such a savour,[26]
That he will never leave. Methink then that I
Have done very wisely to join in friendship with him, lest perhaps I
Coming in his way might be nipp’d; for such knaves in presence
We see oft times put honest men to silence:
Yet I have played with his beard in knitting this knot,
I promis’d friendship; but, you love few words--I spake it, but I
meant it not.[27]
Who marks this friendship between us two
Shall judge of the worldly friendship without any more ado.
It may be a right pattern[28] thereof; but true friendship indeed
Of nought but of virtue doth truly proceed.
But why do I now enter into philosophy,
Which do profess the fine kind of courtesy?
I will hence to the court with all haste I may;
I think the king be stirring, it is now bright day.
To wait at a pinch still in sight I mean,
For wot ye what? a new broom sweeps clean[29]
As to high honour I mind not to climb,
So I mean in the court to lose no time:
Wherein, happy man be his dole,[30] I trust that I
Shall not speed worst, and that very quickly.
[_Exit._
_Here entereth_ DAMON _and_ PITHIAS _like mariners._
DAMON. O Neptune, immortal be thy praise,
For that so safe from Greece we have pass’d the seas
To this noble city Syracuse, where we
The ancient reign of the Romans may see.
Whose force Greece also heretofore hath known,
Whose virtue the shrill trump of fame so far hath blown.
PITHIAS. My Damon, of right high praise we ought to give
To Neptune and all the gods, that we safely did arrive:
The seas, I think, with contrary winds never raged so;
I am even yet so seasick, that I faint as I go;
Therefore let us get some lodging quickly.
But where is Stephano?
_Here entereth_ STEPHANO.
STEPHANO. Not far hence: a pox take these mariner-knaves,
Not one would help me to carry this stuff, such drunken slaves
I think be accursed of the gods’ own mouths.
DAMON. Stephano, leave thy raging, and let us enter Syracuse,
We will provide lodging, and thou shalt be eased of thy burden by
and by.
STEPHANO. Good master, make haste, for I tell you plain,
This heavy burden puts poor Stephano to much pain.
PITHIAS. Come on thy ways, thou shalt be eased, and that anon.
[_Exeunt._
_Here entereth_ CARISOPHUS.
CARISOPHUS. It is a true saying, that oft hath been spoken,
The pitcher goeth so long to the water, that it[31] cometh home
broken.
My own proof this hath taught me, for truly, sith I
In the city have used to walk very slyly,
Not with one can I meet, that will in talk join with me,
And to creep into men’s bosoms,[32] some talk for to snatch,
But which, into one trip or other, I might trimly them catch,
And so accuse them--now, not with one can I meet,
That will join in talk with me, I am shunn’d like a devil in the
street.
My credit is crack’d, where I am known; but I hear say,
Certain strangers are arrived: they were a good prey;
If happily I might meet with them, I fear not, I,
But in talk I should trip them, and that very finely.
Which thing, I assure you, I do for mine own gain,
Or else I would not plod thus up and down, I tell you plain.
Well, I will for a while to the court, to see
What Aristippus doth; I would be loth in favour he should overrun me;
He is a subtle child, he flattereth so finely, that I fear me
He will lick the fat from my lips, and so outwear[33] me:
Therefore I will not be long absent, but at hand,
That all his fine drifts I may understand.
[_Exit._
_Here entereth_ WILL _and_ JACK.
WILL. I wonder what my master Aristippus means now-a-days,
That he leaveth philosophy, and seeks[34] to please
King Dionysius with such merry toys:
In Dionysius’ court now he only joys,
As trim a courtier as the best,
Ready to answer, quick in taunts, pleasant to jest;
A lusty companion to devise with fine dames,
Whose humour to feed his wily wit he frames.
JACK. By Cock, as you say, your master is a minion:
A foul coil he keeps in this court; Aristippus alone
Now rules the roost with his pleasant devices,
That I fear he will put out of conceit my master Carisophus.
WILL. Fear not that, Jack; for, like brother and brother,
They are knit in true friendship the one with the other;
They are fellows, you know, and honest men both,
Therefore the one to hinder the other they will be loth.
JACK. Yea, but I have heard say there is falsehood in fellowship,
In the court sometimes one gives another finely the slip:
Which when it is spied, it is laugh’d out with a scoff,[35]
And with sporting and playing quickly[36] shaken off:
In which kind of toying thy master hath such a grace,
That he will never blush, he hath a wooden face.
But, Will, my master hath bees in his head,
If he find me here prating, I am but dead:
He is still trotting in the city, there is somewhat in the wind;
His looks bewray his inward troubled mind:
Therefore I will be packing to the court by and by;
If he be once angry, Jack shall cry, woe the pie!
WILL. By’r Lady, if I tarry long here, of the same sauce shall I
taste,
For my master sent me on an errand, and bad me make haste,
Therefore we will depart together.
[_Exeunt._
_Here entereth_ STEPHANO.
STEPHANO. Ofttimes I have heard, before I came hither,
That no man can serve two masters together;
A sentence so true, as most men do take it,
At any time false that no man can make it:
And yet by their leave, that first have it spoken,
How that may prove false, even here I will open:
For I, Stephano, lo, so named by my father,
At this time serve two masters together,
And love them alike: the one and the other
I duly obey, I can do no other.
A bondman I am, so nature hath wrought me,
One Damon of Greece, a gentleman, bought me.
To him I stand bound, yet serve I another,
Whom Damon my master loves as his own brother:
A gentleman too, and Pithias he is named,
Fraught with virtue, whom vice never defamed.
These two, since at school they fell acquainted,
In mutual friendship at no time have fainted.
But loved so kindly and friendly each other,
As though they were brothers by father and mother.
Pythagoras learning these two have embraced,
Which both are in virtue so narrowly laced,
That all their whole doings do fall to this issue,
To have no respect but only to virtue:
All one in effect, all one in their going,
All one in their study, all one in their doing.
These gentlemen both, being of one condition.
Both alike of my service have all the fruition:
Pithias is joyful, if Damon be pleased:
If Pithias is served, then Damon is eased.
Serve one, serve both (so near[37]), who would win them:
I think they have but one heart between them.
In travelling countries we three have contrived[38]
Full many a year, and this day arrived
At Syracuse in Sicilia, that ancient town,
Where my masters are lodged; and I up and down
Go seeking to learn what news here are walking,
To hark of what things the people are talking.
I like not this soil, for as I go plodding,
I mark there two, there three, their heads always nodding,
In close secret wise, still whispering together.
If I ask any question, no man doth answer:
But shaking their heads, they go their ways speaking;
I mark how with tears their wet eyes are leaking:
Some strangeness there is, that breedeth this musing.
Well, I will to my masters, and tell of their using,
That they may learn, and walk wisely together:
I fear we shall curse the time we came hither.
[_Exit._
_Here entereth_ ARISTIPPUS _and_ WILL.
ARISTIPPUS. Will, didst thou hear the ladies so talk of me?
What aileth them? from their nips[39] shall I never be free?
WILL. Good faith, sir, all the ladies in the court do plainly
report,
That without mention of them you can make no sport:
They are your plain-song to sing descant upon;[40]
If they were not, your mirth were gone.
Therefore, master, jest no more with women in any wise,
If you do, by Cock, you are like to know the price.
ARISTIPPUS. By’r Lady, Will, this is good counsel: plainly to jest
Of women, proof hath taught me is not the best:
I will change my copy, howbeit I care not a quinch,[41]
I know the gall’d horse will soonest winch:
But learn thou secretly how privily they talk
Of me in the court: among them slyly walk,
And bring me true news thereof.
WILL. I will, sir master, thereof have no doubt, for I
Where they talk of you will inform you perfectly.
ARISTIPPUS. Do so, my boy: if thou bring it finely to pass,
For thy good service thou shalt go in thine old coat at Christmas.
[_Exeunt._
_Enter_ DAMON, PITHIAS, STEPHANO.
DAMON. Stephano, is all this true that thou hast told me?
STEPHANO. Sir, for lies hitherto ye never controll’d me.
O, that we had never set foot on this land,
Where Dionysius reigns with so bloody a hand!
Every day he showeth some token of cruelty,
With blood he hath filled all the streets in the city:
I tremble to hear the people’s murmuring,
I lament to see his most cruel dealing:
I think there is no such tyrant under the sun.
O, my dear masters, this morning what hath he done!
DAMON. What is that? tell us quickly.
STEPHANO. As I this morning pass’d in the street,
With a woful man (going to his death) did I meet,
Many people followed, and I of one secretly
Asked the cause, why he was condemned to die?
[Who] whispered in mine ear, nought hath he done but thus,
In his sleep he dreamed he had killed Dionysius:[42]
Which dream told abroad, was brought to the king in post,
By whom, condemned for suspicion, his life he hath lost.
Marcia was his name, as the people said.
PITHIAS. My dear friend Damon, I blame not Stephano
For wishing we had not come hither, seeing it is so,
That for so small cause such cruel death doth ensue.
DAMON. My Pithias, where tyrants reign, such cases are not new,
Which fearing their own state for great cruelty,[43]
To sit fast as they think, do execute speedily
All such as any light suspicion have tainted.
STEPHANO (_aside_). With such quick carvers I list not be acquainted.
DAMON. So are they never in quiet, but in suspicion still,
When one is made away, they take occasion another to kill:
Ever in fear, having no trusty friend, void of all peoples’ love,
And in their own conscience a continual hell they prove.
PITHIAS. As things by their contraries are always best proved,
How happy then are merciful princes, of their people beloved!
Having sure friends everywhere, no fear doth touch them:
They may safely spend the day pleasantly, at night _securè dormiunt
in utramque aurem_,
O my Damon, if choice were offered me, I would choose to be Pithias,
As I am Damon’s friend, rather than to be king Dionysius.
STEPHANO. And good cause why; for you are entirely beloved of one,
And as far as I hear, Dionysius is beloved of none.
DAMON. That state is most miserable; thrice happy are we,
Whom true love hath joined in perfect amity:
Which amity first sprung--without vaunting be it spoken, that is
true--
Of likeness of manners, took root by company, and now is conserved
by virtue;
Which virtue always though[44] worldly things do not frame,
Yet doth she achieve to her followers immortal fame:
Whereof if men were careful for virtue’s sake only,
They would honour friendship, and not for commodity.
But such as for profit in friendship do link,
When storms come, they slide away sooner than a man will think.
My Pithias, the sum of my talk falls to this issue,
To prove no friendship is sure, but that which is grounded on virtue.
PITHIAS. My Damon, of this thing there needs no proof to me,
The gods forbid, but that Pithias with Damon in all things should agree.
For why is it said, _Amicus alter ipse_,
But that true friends should be two in body, but one in mind?
As it were transformed into another, which against kind
Though it seem, yet in good faith, when I am alone,
I forget I am Pithias, methink I am Damon.
STEPHANO. That could I never do, to forget myself; full well I know,
Wheresoever I go, that I am _pauper_ Stephano:
But I pray you, sir, for all your philosophy,
See that in this court you walk very wisely.
You are but newly come hither; being strangers, ye know,
Many eyes are bent on you, in the streets as ye go:
Many spies are abroad, you can not be too circumspect.
DAMON. Stephano, because thou art careful of me, thy master, I do
thee praise;
Yet think this for a surety: no state to displease
By talk or otherwise my friend and I intend: we will here,
As men that come to see the soil and manners of all men of every
degree.
Pythagoras said, that this world was like a stage,[45]
Whereon many play their parts: the lookers-on, the sage.
Philosophers are, saith he, whose part is to learn
The manners of all nations, and the good from the bad to discern.
STEPHANO. Good faith, sir, concerning the people they are not gay,
And as far as I see, they be mummers; for nought they say,
For the most part, whatsoever you ask them.
The soil is such, that to live here I cannot like.
DAMON. Thou speakest according to thy learning, but I say,
_Omne solum forti partia_,[46] a wise man may live everywhere;
Therefore, my dear friend Pithias,
Let us view this town in every place,
And then consider the people’s manners also.
PITHIAS. As you will, my Damon; but how say you, Stephano?
Is it not best, ere we go further, to take some repast?
STEPHANO. In faith, I like this question, sir: for all your haste,
To eat somewhat I pray you think it no folly;
It is high dinner time, I know by my belly.
DAMON. Then let us to our lodging depart: when dinner is done,
We will view this city as we have begun.
[_Exeunt._
_Here entereth_ CARISOPHUS.
CARISOPHUS. Once again in hope of good wind, I hoise up my sail,
I go into the city to find some prey for mine avail:
I hunger while I may see these strangers that lately
Arrived: I were safe, if once I might meet them happily.
Let them bark that lust at this kind of gain,
He is a fool that for his profit will not pain:
Though it be joined with other men’s hurt, I care not at all
For profit I will accuse any man, hap what shall.
But soft, sirs, I pray you hush: what are they that comes here?
By their apparel and countenance some strangers they appear.
I will shroud myself secretly, even here for a while,
To hear all their talk, that I may them beguile.
_Here entereth_ DAMON _and_ STEPHANO.
STEPHANO. A short horse soon curried[47]; my belly waxeth thinner,
I am as hungry now, as when I went to dinner:
Your philosophical diet is so fine and small,
That you may eat your dinner and supper at once, and not surfeit at
all.
DAMON. Stephano, much meat breeds heaviness: thin diet makes thee
light.
STEPHANO. I may be lighter thereby, but I shall never run the faster.
DAMON. I have had sufficiently discourse of amity,
Which I had at dinner with Pithias; and his pleasant company
Hath fully satisfied me: it doth me good to feed mine eyes on him.
STEPHANO. Course or discourse, your course is very coarse; for all
your talk,
You had but one bare course, and that was pick, rise, and walk:
And surely, for all your talk of philosophy,
I never heard that a man with words could fill his belly.
Feed your eyes, quoth you? the reason from my wisdom swerveth,
I stared on you both, and yet my belly starveth.
DAMON. Ah, Stephano, small diet maketh a fine memory.
STEPHANO. I care not for your crafty sophistry,
You two are fine, let me be fed like a gross knave still;
I pray you licence me for a while to have my will,
At home to tarry, whiles you take view of this city!
To find some odd victuals in a corner I am very witty.
DAMON. At your pleasure, sir: I will wait on myself this day;
Yet attend upon Pithias, which for a purpose tarrieth at home:
So doing, you wait upon me also.
STEPHANO. With wings on my feet I go.
[_Exit._
DAMON. Not in vain the poet saith, _Naturam furcâ expellas, tamen
usque recurret_;
For train up a bondman never to so good a behaviour,
Yet in some point of servility he will savour:
As this Stephano, trusty to me his master, loving and kind,
Yet touching his belly a very bondman I him find.
He is to be borne withal, being so just and true,
I assure you, I would not change him for no new.
But methinks this is a pleasant city;
The seat is good,[48] and yet not strong; and that is great pity.
CARISOPHUS (_aside_). I am safe, he is mine own.
DAMON. The air subtle and fine, the people should be witty,
That dwell under this climate in so pure a region:
A trimmer plat I have not seen in my peregrination.
Nothing misliketh me in this country,
But that I heard such muttering of cruelty:
Fame reporteth strange things of Dionysius,
But kings’ matters passing our reach, pertain not to us.
CARISOPHUS. Dionysius, quoth you? since the world began,
In Sicilia never reigned so cruel a man:
A despiteful tyrant to all men; I marvel, I,
That none makes him away, and that suddenly.
DAMON. My friend, the gods forbid so cruel a thing
That any man should lift up his sword against the king!
Or seek other means by death him to prevent,
Whom to rule on earth the mighty gods have sent.
But, my friend, leave off this talk of King Dionysius.
CARISOPHUS. Why, sir? he cannot hear us.
DAMON. What then? _An nescis longas regibus esse manus?_
It is no safe talking of them that strikes afar off.
But leaving kings’ matters, I pray you show me this courtesy,
To describe in few words the state of this city.
A traveller I am, desirous to know
The state of each country, wherever I go:
Not to the hurt of any state, but to get experience thereby.
It is not for nought, that the poet doth cry,
_Dic mihi musa virum, captæ post tempora Trojæ,
Qui mores hominum multorum vidit et urbes._[49]
In which verses, as some writers do scan,
The poet describeth a perfect wise man:
Even so I, being a stranger, addicted to philosophy,
To see the state of countries myself I apply.
CARISOPHUS. Sir, I like this intent, but may I ask your name without
scorn?
DAMON. My name is Damon, well known in my country, a gentleman born.
CARISOPHUS. You do wisely to search the state of each country
To bear intelligence thereof, whither you lust. He is a spy, [_Aside._
Sir, I pray you, have patience awhile, for I have to do hereby:
View this weak part of this city as you stand, and I very quickly
Will return to you again, and then will I show
The state of all this country, and of the court also.
DAMON. I thank you for your courtesy.
[_Exit Caris._]
This chanceth well, that I
Met with this gentleman so happily,
Which, as it seemeth, misliketh something,
Else he would not talk so boldly of the king,
And that to a stranger: but lo, where he comes in haste.
_Here entereth_ CARISOPHUS _and_ SNAP.
CARISOPHUS. This is the[50] fellow: Snap, snap him up: away with
him.
SNAP. Good fellow, thou must go with me to the court.
DAMON. To the court, sir? and why?
CARISOPHUS. Well, we will dispute that before the king. Away with
him quickly.
DAMON. Is this the courtesy you promised me, and that very lately?
CARISOPHUS. Away with him, I say.
DAMON. Use no violence, I will go with you quietly.
[_Exeunt omnes._
_Here entereth_ ARISTIPPUS.
ARISTIPPUS. Ah, sirrah, by’r Lady, Aristippus likes Dionysius’ court
very well,
Which in passing joys and pleasures doth excel.
Where he hath _dapsiles cœnas, geniales lectos, et auro
Fulgentem tyranni zonam_.[51]
I have plied the harvest, and stroke when the iron was hot;
When I spied my time, I was not squeamish to crave, God wot!
But with some pleasant toy[52] I crept into the king’s bosom,
For which Dionysius gave me _Auri talentum magnum_--
A large reward for so simple services.
What, then? the king’s praise standeth chiefly in bountifulness:
Which thing though I told the king very pleasantly,
Yet can I prove it by good writers of great antiquity:
But that shall not need at this time, since that I have abundantly:
When I lack hereafter, I will use this point of philosophy:
But now, whereas I have felt the king’s liberality,
As princely as it came, I will spend it as regally:
Money is current, men say, and current comes of _Currendo_:
Then will I make money run, as his nature requireth, I trow.
For what becomes a philosopher best,
But to despise money above the rest?
And yet not so despise it, but to have in store
Enough to serve his own turn, and somewhat more.
With sundry sports and taunts yesternight I delighted the king,
That with his loud laughter the whole court did ring,
And I thought he laugh’d not merrier than I, when I got this money.
But, mumbudget,[53] for Carisophus I espy
In haste to come hither: I must handle the knave finely.
_Here entereth_ CARISOPHUS.
O Carisophus, my dearest friend, my trusty companion!
What news with you? where have you been so long?
CARISOPHUS. My best beloved friend Aristippus, I am come at last;
I have not spent all my time in waste.
I have got a prey, and that a good one, I trow.
ARISTIPPUS. What prey is that? fain would I know.
CARISOPHUS. Such a crafty spy I have caught, I dare say,
As never was in Sicilia before this day;
Such a one as viewed every weak place in the city,
Surviewed the haven and each bulwark in talk very witty:
And yet by some words himself he did bewray.
ARISTIPPUS. I think so in good faith, as you did handle him.
CARISOPHUS. I handled him clerkly, I joined in talk with him
courteously:
But when we were entered, I let him speak his will, and I
Suck’d out thus much of his words, that I made him say plainly,
He was come hither to know the state of the city;
And not only this, but that he would understand
The state of Dionysius’ court and of the whole land.
Which words when I heard, I desired him to stay,
Till I had done a little business of the way.
Promising him to return again quickly; and so did convey
Myself to the court for Snap the tipstaff, which came and upsnatched
him,
Brought him to the court, and in the porter’s lodge dispatched him,
After I ran to Dionysius, as fast as I could,
And bewrayed this matter to him, which I have you told;
Which thing when he heard, being very merry before,
He suddenly fell in dump, and foaming like a boar,
At last he swore in great rage, that he should die
By the sword or the wheel, and that very shortly.
I am too shamefast: for my travail and toil
I crave nothing of Dionysius, but only his spoil:
Little hath he about him, but a few motheaten crowns of gold,
Cha pouch’d them up already, they are sure in hold:
And now I go into the city, to say sooth,
To see what he hath at his lodging to make up my mouth.[54]
ARISTIPPUS. My Carisophus, you have done good service, But what is
the spy’s name?
CARISOPHUS. He is called Damon, born in Greece, from whence lately
he came.
ARISTIPPUS. By my troth, I will go see him, and speak with him too,
if I may.
CARISOPHUS. Do so, I pray you; but yet by the way,
As occasion serveth, commend my service to the king.
ARISTIPPUS. _Dictum sapienti sat est_: friend Carisophus, shall I
forget that thing?
No, I warrant you: though I say little to your face,
I will lay on with my mouth for you to Dionysius,[55] when I am in
place.
[_Aside_] If I speak one word for such a knave, hang me.
[_Exit._
CARISOPHUS. Our fine philosopher, our trim learned elf,
Is gone to see as false a spy as himself.
Damon smatters as well as he of crafty philosophy,
And can turn cat in the pan[56] very prettily:
But Carisophus hath given him such a mighty check,
As I think in the end will break his neck.
What care I for that? why would[57] he then pry,
And learn the secret estate of our country and city?
He is but a stranger, by his fall let others be wise,
I care not who fall, so that I may rise.
As for fine Aristippus, I will keep in with him,
He is a shrewd fool to deal withal, he can swim;
And yet by my troth, to speak my conscience plainly,
I will use his friendship to mine own commodity.[58]
While Dionysius favoureth him, Aristippus shall be mine;
But if the king once frown on him, then good night, Tomalin:
He shall be as strange, as though I never saw him before.
But I tarry too long, I will prate no more.
Jack, come away.
JACK. At hand, sir.
CARISOPHUS. At Damon’s lodging, if that you see
Any stir to arise, be still at hand by me:
Rather than I will lose the spoil, I will blade[59] it out.
[_Exeunt._
_Here entereth_ PITHIAS _and_ STEPHANO.
PITHIAS. What strange news are these! ah, my Stephano,
Is my Damon in prison, as the voice doth go?
STEPHANO. It is true, O cruel hap! he is taken for a spy,
And as they say, by Dionysius’ own mouth condemned to die.
PITHIAS. To die! Alas! For what cause?
STEPHANO. A sycophant falsely accused him: other cause there is
none.
But, O Jupiter, of all wrongs the revenger,
Seest thou this unjustice, and wilt thou stay any longer
From heaven to send down thy hot consuming fire,
To destroy the workers of wrong, which provoke thy just ire?
Alas! Master Pithias, what shall we do,
Being in a strange country, void of friends and acquaintance too?
Ah, poor Stephano, hast thou lived to see this day,
To see thy true master unjustly made away?
PITHIAS. Stephano, seeing the matter is come to this extremity,
Let us make virtue our friend of mere necessity.
Run thou to the court, and understand secretly
As much as thou canst of Damon’s cause, and I
Will make some means to entreat Aristippus:
He can do much, as I hear, with King Dionysius.
STEPHANO. I am gone, sir. Ah, I would to God my travail and pain
Might restore my master to his liberty again!
PITHIAS. Ah woful Pithias! sith now I am alone,
What way shall I first begin to make my moan?
What words shall I find apt for my complaint?
Damon, my friend, my joy, my life, is in peril. Of force I must now
faint.
But, O music, as in joyful times[60] thy merry notes did borrow,
So now lend me thy yearnful tunes to utter my sorrow.
_Here_ PITHIAS _sings and the regals[61] play._
_Awake, ye woful wights,
That long have wept in woe:
Resign to me your plaints and tears,
My hapless hap to show.
My woe no tongue can tell,
No pen can well descry:
O, what a death is this to hear,
Damon my friend must die!_
_The loss of worldly wealth
Man’s wisdom may restore,
And physic hath provided too
A salve for every sore:
But my true friend once lost,
No art can well supply:
Then, what a death is this to hear,
Damon my friend must die!_
_My mouth, refuse the food,
That should my limbs sustain:
Let sorrow sink into my breast,
And ransack every vein:
Ye Furies, all at once
On me your torments try:
Why should I live, since that I hear[62]
Damon my friend must[63] die!_
_Gripe me, you greedy grief
And present pangs of death,
You sisters three, with cruel hands
With speed come[64] stop my breath:
Shrine me in clay alive,
Some good man stop mine eye:
O death, come now, seeing I hear
Damon my friend must die._
_He speaketh this after the song._
In vain I call for death, which heareth not my complaint:
But what wisdom is this, in such extremity to faint?
_Multum juvat in re malâ animus bonus._
I will to the court myself, to make friends, and that presently.
I will never forsake my friend in time of misery--
But do I see Stephano amazed hither to run?
_Here entereth_ STEPHANO.
STEPHANO. O Pithias, Pithias, we are all undone!
Mine own ears have sucked in mine own sorrow;
I heard Dionysius swear, that Damon should die to-morrow.
PITHIAS. How camest thou so near the presence of the king,
That thou mightest hear Dionysius speak this thing?
STEPHANO. By friendship I gat into the court, where in great
audience
I heard Dionysius with his own mouth give this cruel sentence
By these express words: that Damon the Greek, that crafty spy,
Without further judgment to-morrow should die:
Believe me, Pithias, with these ears I heard it myself.
PITHIAS. Then how near is my death also! Ah, woe is me!
Ah my Damon, another myself, shall I forego thee?
STEPHANO. Sir, there is no time of lamenting now: it behoveth us
To make means to them which can do much with Dionysius,
That he be not made away, ere his cause be fully heard; for we see
By evil report things be made to princes far worse than they be.
But lo, yonder cometh Aristippus, in great favour with king
Dionysius,
Entreat him to speak a good word to the king for us,
And in the mean season I will to your lodging to see all things safe
there.
PITHIAS. To that I agree: but let us slip aside his talk to hear.
_Here entereth_ ARISTIPPUS.
ARISTIPPUS. Here is a sudden change indeed, a strange metamorphosis,
This court is clean altered: who would have thought this?
Dionysius, of late so pleasant and merry,
Is quite changed now into such melancholy,
That nothing can please him: he walketh up and down,
Fretting and chaffing, on every man he doth frown;
In so much that, when I in pleasant words began to play,
So sternly he frowned on me, and knit me up so short,
I perceive it is no safe playing with lions, but when it please them;
If you claw where it itch not, you shall disease them,
And so perhaps get a clap; mine own proof taught me this,
That it is very good to be merry and wise.
The only cause of this hurly-burly is Carisophus, that wicked man,
Which lately took Damon for a spy, a poor gentleman,
And hath incensed the king against him so despitefully,
That Dionysius hath judged him to-morrow to die.
I have talk’d with Damon, whom though in words I found very witty,
Yet was he more curious than wise in viewing this city:
But truly, for aught I can learn, there is no cause why
So suddenly and cruelly he should be condemned to die:
Howsoever it be, this is the short and long,
I dare not gainsay the king, be it right or wrong:
I am sorry, and that is all I may or can do in this case:
Nought availeth persuasion, where froward opinion taketh place.
PITHIAS. Sir, if humble suits you would not despise,
Then bow on[65] me your pitiful eyes.
My name is Pithias, in Greece well known,
A perfect friend to that woful Damon,
Which now a poor captive in this court doth lie,
By the king’s own mouth, as I hear, condemned to die;
For whom I crave your mastership’s goodness,
To stand his friend in this his great distress.
Nought hath he done worthy of death; but very fondly,
Being a stranger, he viewed this city:
For no evil practices, but to feed his eyes.
But seeing Dionysius is informed otherwise,
My suit is to you, when you see time and place,
To assuage the king’s anger, and to purchase his grace:
In which doing you shall not do good to one only,
But you shall further two,[66] and that fully.
ARISTIPPUS. My friend, in this case I can do you no pleasure.
PITHIAS. Sir, you serve in the court, as fame doth tell.
ARISTIPPUS. I am of the court indeed, but none of the council.
PITHIAS. As I hear, none is in greater favour with the king, than
you at this day.
ARISTIPPUS. The more in favour, the less I dare say.
PITHIAS. It is a courtier’s praise to help strangers in misery.
ARISTIPPUS. To help another, and hurt myself, it is an evil point
of courtesy.
PITHIAS. You shall not hurt yourself to speak for the innocent.
ARISTIPPUS. He is not innocent, whom the king judgeth nocent.
PITHIAS. Why, sir, do you think this matter past all remedy?
ARISTIPPUS. So far past, that Dionysius hath sworn, Damon to-morrow
shall die.
PITHIAS. This word my trembling heart cutteth in two.
Ah, sir, in this woful case that[67] wist I best to do?
ARISTIPPUS. Best to content yourself, when there is no remedy,
He is well relieved that foreknoweth his misery:
Yet, if any comfort be, it resteth in Eubulus,
The chiefest councillor about King Dionysius:
Which pitieth Damon’s case in this great extremity,
Persuading the king from all kind of cruelty.
PITHIAS. The mighty gods preserve you for this word of comfort.
Taking my leave of your goodness, I will now resort
To Eubulus, that good councillor:
But hark! methink I hear a trumpet blow.
ARISTIPPUS. The king is at hand, stand close in the prease.[68]
Beware, if he know
You are friend to Damon, he will take you for a spy also.
Farewell, I dare not be seen with you.
_Here entereth_ KING DIONYSIUS, EUBULUS _the
Councillor, and_ GRONNO _the Hangman._
DIONYSIUS. Gronno, do my commandment: strike off Damon’s irons by
and by.
Then bring him forth, I myself will see him executed presently.
GRONNO. O mighty king, your commandment will I do speedily.
DIONYSIUS. Eubulus, thou hast talked in vain, for sure he shall die.
Shall I suffer my life to stand in peril of every spy?
EUBULUS. That he conspired against your person, his accuser cannot
say:
He only viewed your city, and will you for that make him away?
DIONYSIUS. What he would have done, the guess is great: he minded
me to hurt,
That came so slyly to search out the secret estate of my court.
Shall I still lie in fear? no, no: I will cut off such imps betime,
Lest that to my farther danger too high they climb.
EUBULUS. Yet have the mighty gods immortal fame assigned
To all worldly princes, which in mercy be inclined.
DIONYSIUS. Let fame talk what she list, so I may live in safety.
EUBULUS. The only mean to that is, to use mercy,
DIONYSIUS. A mild prince the people despiseth.
EUBULUS. A cruel king the people hateth.
DIONYSIUS. Let them hate me, so they fear me.
EUBULUS. That is not the way to live in safety.
DIONYSIUS. My sword and power shall purchase my quietness.
EUBULUS. That is sooner procured by mercy and gentleness.
DIONYSIUS. Dionysius ought to be feared.
EUBULUS. Better for him to be well beloved.
DIONYSIUS. Fortune maketh all things subject to my power.
EUBULUS. Believe her not, she is a light goddess; she can laugh and
low’r.
DIONYSIUS. A king’s praise standeth in the revenging of his enemy.
EUBULUS. A greater praise to win him by clemency.
DIONYSIUS. To suffer the wicked to live it is no mercy.
EUBULUS. To kill the innocent it is great cruelty.
DIONYSIUS. Is Damon innocent, which so craftily undermined
Carisophus,
To understand what he could of king Dionysius?
Which surviewed the haven and each bulwark in the city,
Where battery might be laid, what way best to approach? shall I
Suffer such a one to live, that worketh me such despite?
No, he shall die, then I am safe: a dead dog cannot bite.
EUBULUS. But yet, O mighty king,[69] my duty bindeth me
To give such counsel, as with your honour may best agree:
The strongest pillars of princely dignity,
I find, is[70] justice with mercy and prudent liberality:
The one judgeth all things by upright equity,
The other rewardeth the worthy, flying each extremity.
As to spare those which offend maliciously,
It may be called no justice, but extreme injury.
So upon suspicion of each thing not well-proved,
To put to death presently whom envious flattery accused,
It seemeth of tyranny; and upon what fickle ground all tyrants do
stand,
Athens and Lacedemon can teach you, if it be rightly scann’d.
And not only these citizens, but who curiously seeks
The whole histories of all the world, not only of Romans and Greeks,
Shall well perceive of all tyrants the ruinous fall,
Their state uncertain, beloved of none, but hated of all.
Of merciful princes to set out the passing felicity
I need not: enough of that even these days do testify.
They live devoid of fear, their sleeps are sound, they dread no
enemy,
They are feared and loved, and why? they rule with justice and mercy,
Extending justice to such as wickedly from justice have swerved:
Mercy unto those who in[71] opinion of simpleness have mercy deserved.
Of liberty nought I say, but only this thing,
Liberty upholdeth the state of a king
Whose large bountifulness ought to fall to this issue,
To reward none but such as deserve it for virtue.
Which merciful justice if you would follow, and provident liberality;
Neither the caterpillars of all courts, _et fruges consumere nati_,
Parasites with wealth puff’d up, should not look so high;
Nor yet for this simple fact poor Damon should die.
DIONYSIUS. With pain mine ears have heard this vain talk of mercy.
I tell thee, fear and terror defendeth kings only:
Till he be gone, whom I suspect, how shall I live quietly,
Whose memory with chilling horror fills my breast day and night
violently?
My dreadful dreams of him bereaves my rest; on bed I lie
Shaking and trembling, as one ready to yield his throat to Damon’s
sword.
This quaking dread nothing but Damon’s blood can stay:
Better he die, than I to be tormented with fear alway.
He shall die, though Eubulus consent not thereto:
It is lawful, for kings, as they list, all things to do.
_Here_ GRONNO [_and_ SNAP] _bring in_ DAMON, _and_
PITHIAS _meeteth him by the way._
PITHIAS. O my Damon!
DAMON. O my Pithias! seeing death must part us, farewell for ever.
PITHIAS. O Damon, O my sweet friend!
SNAP. Away from the prisoner: what a prease have we here?
GRONNO. As you commanded, O mighty king, we have brought Damon.
DIONYSIUS. Then go to: make ready. I will not stir out of this place,
Till I see his head stroken off before my face.
GRONNO. It shall be done, sir. [_To Damon_] Because your eyes have
made such a-do.
I will knock down this your lantern, and shut up your shop-window too.
DAMON. O mighty king, where as no truth my innocent life can save,
But that so greedily you thirst[72] my guiltless blood to have,
Albeit (even in thought) I had not ought against your person:
Yet now I plead not for life, ne will I crave your pardon.
But seeing in Greece my country, where well I am known,
I have worldly things fit for mine alliance, when I am gone,
To dispose them, ere I die, if I might obtain leisure,
I would account it (O king) for a passing great pleasure:
Not to prolong my life thereby, for which I reckon not this,
But to set my things in a stay: and surely I will not miss,
Upon the faith which all gentlemen ought to embrace,
To return again, at your time to appoint, to yield my body here in
this place.
Grant me (O king) such time to despatch this inquiry,[73]
And I will not fail when you appoint, even here my life to pay.[74]
DIONYSIUS. A pleasant request! as though I could trust him absent,
Whom in no wise I cannot trust being present.
And yet though I sware the contrary, do that I require,
Give me a pledge for thy return, and have thine own desire.
He is as near now as he was before. [_Aside._
DAMON. There is no surer nor greater pledge than the faith of a
gentleman.
DIONYSIUS. It was wont to be, but otherwise now the world doth stand;
Therefore do as I say, else presently yield thy neck to the sword.
If I might with my honour, I would recall my word.
PITHIAS. Stand to your word, O king, for kings ought nothing say,
But that they would perform in perfect deeds alway.
A pledge you did require, when Damon his suit did meve,
For which with heart and stretched hands most humble thanks I give:
And that you may not say but Damon hath a friend,
That loves him better than his own life, and will do to his end,
Take me, O mighty king: my life I pawn[75] for his:
Strike off my head, if Damon hap at his day to miss.
DIONYSIUS. What art thou, that chargest me with my word so boldly
here?
PITHIAS. I am Pithias, a Greek born, which hold Damon my friend full
dear.
DIONYSIUS. Too dear perhaps, to hazard thy life for him: what
fondness[76] moveth thee?
PITHIAS. No fondness at all, but perfect amity.
DIONYSIUS. A mad kind of amity! advise thyself well: if Damon fail
at his day,
Which shall be justly appointed, wilt thou die for him, to me his
life to pay?
PITHIAS. Most willingly, O mighty king: if Damon fail, let Pithias
die.
DIONYSIUS. Thou seemest to trust his words, that pawnest thy life
so frankly.
PITHIAS. What Damon saith, Pithias believeth assuredly.
DIONYSIUS. Take heed, for [your] life:[77] wordly men break promise
in many things.
PITHIAS. Though wordly men do so, it never haps amongst friends.
DIONYSIUS. What callest thou friends? are they not men, is not this
true?
PITHIAS. Men they be, but such men as love one another only for
virtue.
DIONYSIUS. For what virtue dost thou love this spy, this Damon?
PITHIAS. For that virtue which yet to you is unknown.
DIONYSIUS. Eubulus, what shall I do? I would despatch this Damon
fain,
But this foolish fellow so chargeth me, that I may not call back my
word again.
EUBULUS. The reverent majesty of a king stands chiefly in keeping
his promise.
What you have said this whole court beareth witness,
Save your honour, whatsoever you do.
DIONYSIUS. For saving mine honour, I must forbear my will: go to.
Pithias, seeing thou tookest me at my word, take Damon to thee:
For two months he is thine: unbind him, I set him free;
Which time once expired, if he appear not the next day by noon,
Without further delay thou shalt lose thy life, and that full soon.
Whether he die by the way, or lie sick in his bed,
If he return not then, thou shalt either hang or lose thy head.
PITHIAS. For this, O mighty king, I yield immortal thanks. O joyful
day!
DIONYSIUS. Gronno, take him to thee: bind him, see him kept in
safety:
If he escape, assure thyself for him thou shalt die.
Eubulus, let us depart, to talk of this strange thing within.
EUBULUS. I follow.
[_Exeunt._
GRONNO. Damon, thou servest the gods well today; be thou of comfort.
As for you, sir, I think you will be hanged in sport.
You heard what the king said; I must keep you safely:
By Cock, so I will, you shall rather hang than I.
Come on your way.
PITHIAS. My Damon, farewell; the gods have thee in keeping.
DAMON. O my Pithias, my pledge, farewell; I part from thee weeping.
But joyful at my day appointed I will return again,
When I will deliver thee from all trouble and pain,
Stephano will I leave behind me to wait upon thee in prison alone,
And I, whom fortune hath reserved to this misery, will walk home.
Ah my Pithias, my pledge, my life, my friend, farewell.
PITHIAS. Farewell, my Damon.
DAMON. Loth am I to depart. Sith sobs my trembling tongue doth stay,
O music, sound my doleful plaints, when I am gone my way.
[_Exit Damon._
GRONNO. I am glad he is gone, I had almost wept too. Come, Pithias,
So God help me, I am sorry for thy foolish case
Wilt thou venter thy life for a man so fondly?
PITHIAS. It is no venter: my friend is just, for whom I desire to
die.
GRONNO. Here is a madman! I tell thee, I have a wife whom I love
well,
And if ich would die for her, chould ich were in hell.
Wilt thou do more for a man than I would for a woman?
PITHIAS. Yea, that I will.
GRONNO. Then come on your ways, you must to prison haste.
I fear you will repent this folly at last.
PITHIAS. That shalt thou never see. But O music, as my Damon
requested thee,
Sound out thy doleful tunes in this time of calamity.
[_Exeunt. Here the regals play a mourning song, and_ DAMON _cometh
in in mariner apparel and_ STEPHANO _with him_.
DAMON. Weep no more, Stephano, this is but destiny:
Had not this happ’d, yet I know I am born to die:
Where or in what place, the gods know alone,
To whose judgment myself I commit. Therefore leave off thy moan,
And wait upon Pithias in prison till I return again,
In whom my joy, my care and life doth only remain.
STEPHANO. O my dear master, let me go with you; for my poor company
Shall be some small comfort in this time of misery.
DAMON. O Stephano, hast thou been so long with me,
And yet dost not know the force of true amity?
I tell thee once again, my friend and I are but one:
Wait upon Pithias, and think thou art with Damon.
Whereof I may not now discourse, the time passeth away;
The sooner I am gone, the shorter shall be my journey:
Therefore farewell, Stephano, commend me to my friend Pithias,
Whom I trust to deliver in time out of this woful case.
STEPHANO. Farewell, my dear master, since your pleasure is so.
O cruel hap! O poor Stephano!
O cursed Carisophus, that first moved this tragedy!--
But what a noise is this? is all well within, trow ye?
I fear all be not well within, I will go see.--
Come out, you weasel: are you seeking eggs in Damon’s chest?
Come out, I say, wilt thou be packing? by Cock, you were best.
CARISOPHUS. How durst thou, villain, to lay hands on me?
STEPHANO. Out, sir knave, or I will send ye.
Art thou not content to accuse Damon wrongfully,
But wilt thou rob him also, and that openly?
CARISOPHUS. The king gave me the spoil: to take mine own wilt thou
let me?[78]
STEPHANO. Thine own, villain! where is thine authority?
CARISOPHUS. I am authority of myself; dost thou not know?
STEPHANO. By’r Lady, that is somewhat; but have you no more to show?
CARISOPHUS. What, if I have not?
STEPHANO. Then for an earnest penny take this blow.
I shall bombast you, you mocking knave; chill put pro in my purse
for this time.[79]
CARISOPHUS. Jack, give me my sword and target.
JACK. I cannot come to you, master, this knave doth me let. Hold,
master.
STEPHANO. Away, Jackanapes, else I will col’phise you[80] by and by:
Ye slave, I will have my pennyworths of thee therefore, if I die.
About, villain!
CARISOPHUS. O citizens, help to defend me.
STEPHANO. Nay, they will rather help to hang thee.
CARISOPHUS. Good fellow, let us reason of the matter quietly: beat
me no more.
STEPHANO. Of this condition I will stay, if thou swear, as thou art
an honest man,
Thou wilt say nothing to the king of this when I am gone.
CARISOPHUS. I will say nothing; here is my hand, as I am an honest
man.
STEPHANO. Then say on thy mind: I have taken a wise oath on him,
have I not, trow ye?
To trust such a false knave upon his honesty?
As he is an honest man (quoth you?) he may bewray all to the king,
And break his oath for this never a whit--but, my franion,[81] I
tell you this one thing:
If you disclose this, I will devise such a way,
That whilst thou livest, thou shalt remember this day.
CARISOPHUS. You need not devise for that, for this day is printed in
my memory;
I warrant you, I shall remember this beating till I die:
But seeing of courtesy you have granted that we should talk quietly,
Methinks in calling me knave you do me much injury.
STEPHANO. Why so, I pray thee heartily?
CARISOPHUS. Because I am the king’s man: keeps the king any knaves?
STEPHANO. He should not; but what he doth, it is evident by thee,
And as far as I can learn or understand,
There is none better able to keep knaves in all the land.
CARISOPHUS. O sir, I am a courtier: when courtiers shall hear tell,
How you have used me, they will not take it well.
STEPHANO. Nay, all right courtiers will ken me thank;[82] and wot
you why?
Because I handled a counterfeit courtier in his kind so finely.
What, sir? all are not courtiers that have a counterfeit show;
In a troop of honest men some knaves may stand, ye know,
Such as by stealth creep in under the colour of honesty,
Which sort under that cloak do all kinds of villainy,
A right courtier is virtuous, gentle, and full of urbanity,
Hurting no man, good to all, devoid of villainy:
But such as thou art, fountains of squirrility and vain delights;
Though you hang by the court, you are but flatt’ring parasites;
As well deserving the right name of courtesy,
As the coward knight the true praise of chivalry.
I could say more, but I will not, for that I am your well-willer.
In faith, Carisophus, you are no courtier but a caterpillar,
A sycophant, a parasite, a flatterer, and a knave.
Whether I will or no, these names you must have:
How well you deserve this by your deeds it is known,
For that so unjustly thou hast accused poor Damon,
Whose woful case the gods help alone.
CARISOPHUS. Sir, are you his servant, that you pity his case so?
STEPHANO. No, bum troth, goodman Grumb, his name is Stephano:
I am called Onaphets,[83] if needs you will know.
The knave beginneth to sift me, but I turn my name in and out,
_Cretizo cum Cretense_,[84] to make him a lout. [_Aside._
CARISOPHUS. What mumble you with yourself, Master Onaphets?
STEPHANO. I am reckoning with myself how I may pay my debts.
CARISOPHUS. You have paid me more than you did owe me.
STEPHANO. Nay, upon a farther reckoning, I will pay you more, if I
know
Either you talk of that is done, or by your sycophantical envy
You prick forth Dionysius the sooner, that Damon may die:
I will so pay thee, that thy bones shall rattle in thy skin.
Remember what I have said; Onaphets is my name.
[_Exit._
CARISOPHUS. The sturdy knave is gone, the devil him take!
He hath made my head, shoulders, arms, sides, and all to ache.
Thou whoreson villain boy, why didst thou wait no better?
As he paid me, so will I not die thy debtor.
[_Strikes him._
JACK. Master, why do you fight with me? I am not your match, you
see:
You durst not fight with him that is gone, and will you wreak your
anger on me?
CARISOPHUS. Thou villain, by thee I have lost mine honour,
Beaten with a cudgel like a slave, a vacabone, or a lazy lubber,
And not given one blow again. Hast thou handled me well?
JACK. Master, I handled you not, but who did handle you very
handsomely, you can tell.
CARISOPHUS. Handsomely! thou crack-rope.[85]
JACK. Yea, sir, very handsomely: I hold you a groat,
He handled you so handsomely, that he left not one mote in your
coat.
CARISOPHUS. O, I had firk’d him trimly, thou villain, if thou hadst
given me my sword.
JACK. It is better as it is, master, believe me, at a word.
If he had seen your weapon, he would have been fiercer,
And so perhaps beat you worse, I speak it with my heart,
You were never at the dealing of fence-blows, but you had four away
for your part.
It is but your luck, you are man good enough;
But the Welsh Onaphets was a vengeance-knave, and rough.
Master, you were best go home and rest in your bed,
Methinks your cap waxeth too little for your head.
CARISOPHUS. What! doth my head swell?
JACK. Yea, as big as a codshead, and bleeds too.
CARISOPHUS. I am ashamed to show my face with this hue.
JACK. No shame at all; men have been beaten far better than you.
CARISOPHUS. I must go to the chirurgeon’s; what shall I say, when I
am a-dressing?
JACK. You may say truly you met with a knave’s blessing.
[_Exeunt._
_Here entereth_ ARISTIPPUS.
ARISTIPPUS. By mine own experience I prove true that many men tell,
To live in court not beloved, better be in hell:
What crying out, what cursing, is there within of Carisophus,
Because he accused Damon to King Dionysius!
Even now he came whining and crying into the court for the nonce,
Showing that one Onaphets had broke his knave’s sconce.
Which strange name when they heard every man laugh’d heartily,
And I by myself scann’d his name secretly;
For well I knew it was some mad-headed child
That invented this name, that the log-headed knave might be
beguil’d.
In tossing it often with myself to and fro,
I found out that Onaphets backward spelled Stephano.
I smiled in my sleeve, how to see by turning his name he dress’d
him,
And how for Damon his master’s sake with a wooden cudgel he bless’d
him.
None pitied the knave, no man nor woman; but all laugh’d him to
scorn.
To be thus hated of all, better unborn:
Far better Aristippus hath provided, I trow;
For in all the court I am beloved both of high and low.
I offend none, insomuch that women sing this to my great praise,
_Omnis Aristippum decuit color, et locus et res_.
But in all this jollity one thing ’mazeth me,
The strangest thing that ever was heard or known,
Is now happened in this court by that Damon,
Whom Carisophus accused: Damon is now at liberty,
For whose return Pithias his friend lieth in prison, alas, in great
jeopardy.
To-morrow is the day, which day by noon if Damon return not,
earnestly
The king hath sworn that Pithias should die;
Whereof Pithias hath intelligence very secretly,
Wishing that Damon may not return, till he hath paid
His life for his friend. Hath it been heretofore ever said,
That any man for his friend would die so willingly?
O noble friendship! O perfect amity!
Thy force is here seen, and that very perfectly.
The king himself museth hereat, yet he is far out of square,
That he trusteth none to come near him: not even his own daughters
will he have
Unsearch’d to enter his chamber, while[86] he hath made barbers his
beard to shave,
Not with knife or razor, for all edge-tools he fears,
But with hot burning nutshells they singe off his hairs.
Was there ever man that lived in such misery?
Well, I will go in--with a heavy and pensive heart, too,
To think how Pithias, this poor gentleman, to-morrow shall die.
[_Exit._
_Here entereth_ JACK _and_ WILL.
JACK. Well, by mine honesty, I will mar your monkey’s[87] face, if
you so fondly prate.
WILL. Jack, by my troth, seeing you are without the court-gate,
If you play Jack-napes, in mocking my master and despising my face,
Even here with a pantable[88] I will you disgrace;
And though you have a far better face than I,
Yet who is better man of us two these fists shall try,
Unless you leave your taunting.
JACK. Thou began’st first; didst thou now not say even now,
That Carisophus my master was no man but a cow,
In taking so many blows, and gave[89] never a blow again?
WILL. I said so indeed, he is but a tame ruffian,
That can swear by his flask and twich-box,[90] and God’s precious
lady,
And yet will be beaten with a faggot-stick.
These barking whelps were never good biters,
Ne yet great crakers were ever great fighters:
But seeing you egg me so much, I will somewhat more recite;
I say, Carisophus thy master is a flatt’ring parasite;
Gleaning away the sweet from the worthy in all the court.
What tragedy hath he moved of late? the devil take him! he doth much
hurt.
JACK. I pray you, what is Aristippus thy master, is not he a parasite
too,
That with scoffing and jesting in the court makes so much a-do?
WILL. He is no parasite, but a pleasant gentleman full of courtesy.
Thy master is a churlish lout, the heir of a dung-fork; as void of
honesty
As thou art of honour.
JACK. Nay, if you will needs be prating of my master still,
In faith I must cool you, my friend, dapper Will:
Take this at the beginning.
[_Strikes him._
WILL. Praise well your winning, my pantable is as ready as yours.
JACK. By the mass, I will box you.
WILL. By Cock, I will fox you.
JACK. Will, was I with you?
WILL. Jack, did I fly?
JACK. Alas, pretty cockerel, you are too weak;
WILL. In faith, doating dottrel,[91] you will cry creak.
_Here entereth_ SNAP.
SNAP. Away, you crack-ropes, are you fighting at the court-gate?
And I take you here again, I will swinge you both: what!
[_Exit._
JACK. I beshrew Snap the tipstaff, that great knave’s heart, that
hither did come,
Had he not been, you had cried ere this, _Victus, victa, victum_:
But seeing we have breathed ourselves, if ye list,
Let us agree like friends, and shake each other by the fist.
WILL. Content am I, for I am not malicious; but on this condition,
That you talk no more so broad of my master as here you have done.
But who have we here? ’tis Coals I spy[92] coming yonder.
JACK. Will, let us slip aside and view him well.
_Here entereth_ GRIM _the Collier, whistling._
GRIM. What devil! ich ween the porters are drunk, will they not
dup[93] the gate to-day?
[To] take in coals for the king’s own mouth;[94] will nobody stir, I
say?
Ich might have lain tway hours longer in my bed,
Cha tarried so long here, that my teeth chatter in my head.
JACK. Will, after our falling out wilt thou laugh merrily?
WILL. Ay, marry, Jack, I pray thee heartily.
JACK. Then follow me, and hem in a word now and then--
What brawling knave is there at the court-gate so early?
WILL. It is some brainsick villain, I durst lay a penny.
JACK. Was it you,[95] sir, that cried so loud, I trow,
And bid us take in coals for the king’s mouth even now?
GRIM. ’Twas I, indeed.
JACK. Why, sir, how dare you speak such petty treason?
Doth the king eat coals at any season?
GRIM. Here is a gay world! boys now sets old men to school.
I said well enough: what, Jack-sauce, think’st cham a fool?
At bakehouse, butt’ry-hatch, kitchen, and cellar,
Do[96] they not say for the king’s mouth?
WILL. What, then, goodman collier?
GRIM. What, then! seeing without coals thee cannot finely dress the
king’s meat,
May I not say, take in coals for the king’s mouth, though coals he
do not eat?
JACK. James Christe! came ever from a collier an answer so trim?
You are learned, are you not, father Grim?
GRIM. Grim is my name indeed, cham not learned, and yet the king’s
collier:
This vorty winter cha been to the king a servitor,
Though I be not learned, yet cha mother-wit enough, whole and some.
WILL. So it seems, you have so much mother-wit, that you lack your
father’s wisdom.
GRIM. Mass, cham well-beset, here’s a trim cast of murlons.[97]
What be you, my pretty cockerels, that ask me these questions?
JACK. Good faith, Master Grim,[98] if such merlins on your pouch may
light,
They are so quick of wing, that quickly they can carry it out of
your sight;
And though we are cockerels now, we shall have spurs one day,
And shall be able perhaps to make you a capon [to your pay.[99]]
But to tell you the truth, we are the porter’s men, which early and
late
Wait on such gentlemen as you, to open the court-gate.
GRIM. Are ye servants then?
WILL. Yea, sir; are we not pretty men?
GRIM. Pretty men, quoth you? nay, you are strong men, else you could
not bear these breeches.
WILL. Are these such[100] great hose? in faith, goodman collier, you
see with your nose:
By mine honesty, I have but one lining in one hose, but seven ells
of rug.[101]
GRIM. This is but a little, yet it makes thee seem a great bug.
JACK. How say you, goodman collier, can you find any fault here?[102]
GRIM. Nay, you should [not] find fau’t, marry, here’s trim gear!
Alas, little knave, dost not sweat? thou goest with great pain,
These are no hose, but water-bougets,[103] I tell thee plain;
Good for none but such as have no buttocks.
Did you ever see two such little Robin ruddocks[104]
So laden with breeches? chill say no more, lest I offend.
Who invented these monsters[105] first, did it to a ghostly end,
To have a mail ready to put in other folks’ stuff,
We see this evident by daily proof.
One preached of late not far hence in no pulpit, but in a wain-cart,
That spake enough of this; but for my part,
Chill say no more: your own necessity
In the end will force you to find some remedy.
JACK. Will,[106] hold this railing knave with a talk, when I am gone:
I will fetch him his filling ale for his good sermon.
[_Exit._
WILL. Go thy way, Father Grim, gaily well you do say,
It is but young men’s folly, that list to play,
And mask awhile in the net of their own device;
When they come to your age, they will be wise.
GRIM. Bum troth, but few such roisters come to my years at this day;
They be cut off betimes, ere they have gone half their journey:
I will not tell why: let them guess that can, I mean somewhat
thereby.
_Enter_ JACK _with a pot of wine, and a cup to drink on._
JACK. Father Grim, because you are stirring so early,
I have brought you a bowl of wine to make you merry.
GRIM. Wine, marry! this is welcome to colliers, chill swap’t off by
and by:
Chwas stirring so early, that my very soul is dry.
JACK. This is stoutly done: will you have it warmed, Father Grim?
GRIM. No; it is warm enough; it is very lousious[107] and trim.
’Tis musselden,[108] ich ween; of fellowship let me have another
spurt,
Ich can drink as easily now, as if I satin my shirt.
JACK. By Cock, and you shall have it; but I will begin, and that
anon,
_Je bois a vous mon compagnon_.[109]
GRIM. _J’ai vous pleigé, petit Zawne._[110]
JACK. Can you speak French? here is a trim collier, by this day!
GRIM. What man! ich learned this, when ich was a soldier;
When ich was a lusty fellow, and could yerk a whip trimly,
Better than these boy-colliers, that come to the court daily:
When there were[111] not so many captious fellows as now,
That would torup[112] men for every trifle, I wot not how:
As there was one Damon, not long since taken for a spy;
How justly I know not, but he was condemned to die.
WILL (_aside._) This wine hath warmed him, this comes well to pass,
We shall know all now, for in _Vino veritas_.
Father Grim, who accused this Damon to King Dionysius?
GRIM. A vengeance take him! ’twas a gentleman, one Master Crowsphus.
WILL. Crowsphus! you clip the king’s language, you would have said
Carisophus.
But I perceive now either the wind is at the south,
Or else your tongue cleaveth to the roof of your mouth.
GRIM. A murrain take thilk wine, it so intoxicate my brain,
That to be hanged by and by I cannot speak plain.
JACK. You speak knavishly plain, seeing my master you do mock:
In faith, ere you go, I will make you a lobcock. [_Aside._
Father Grim, what say they of this Damon abroad?
GRIM. All men are sorry for him, so help me God.
They say a false knave ’cused him to the king wrongfully;
And he is gone, and should be here to-morrow to die,
Or else his fellow, which is in prison, his room shall supply.
Chill not be his half for vorty shillings, I tell you plain,
I think Damon be too wise to return again.
WILL. Will no man speak for them in this woful case?
GRIM. No, chill warrant you, one Master Stippus is in place,
Where he may do good, but he frames himself so,
Whatsoever Dionysius willeth, to that he will not say no:
’Tis a subtle vox, he will not tread on thorns for none,
A merry harecop[113] ’tis, and a pleasant companion;
A right courtier, and can provide for one.
JACK. Will, how like you this gear? your master Aristippus also
At this collier’s hand hath had a blow!
But in faith, Father Grim, cannot ye colliers
Provide for yourselves far better than courtiers?
GRIM. Yes, I trow: black colliers go in threadbare coats,
Yet so provide they, that they have the fair white groats.
Ich may say in counsel, though all day I moil in dirt,
Chill not change lives with any in Dionysius’ court:
For though their apparel be never so fine,
Yet sure their credit is far worse than mine.
And, by Cock, I may say, for all their high looks,
I know some sticks full deep in merchants’ books:
And deeper will fall in, as fame me tells,
As long as instead of money they take up hauks’ hoods and bells:
Whereby they fall into a swelling disease, which colliers do not
know;
’T ’ath a mad name: it is called, ich ween, _Centum pro cento_.
Some other in courts make others laugh merrily,
When they wail and lament their own estate secretly.
Friendship is dead in court, hypocrisy doth reign;
Who is in favour now, to-morrow is out again:
The state is so uncertain that I, by my will,
Will never be courtier, but a collier still.
WILL. It seemeth that colliers have a very[114] trim life.
GRIM. Colliers get money still: tell me of troth,
Is not that a trim life now, as the world go’th?
All day though I toil with my main and might,
With money in my pouch I come home merry at night,
And sit down in my chair by my wife fair Alison,
And turn a crab in the fire,[115] as merry as Pope John.
JACK. That pope was a merry fellow, of whom folk talk so much.
GRIM. H’ad to be merry withal, h’ad gold enough in his hutch.
JACK. Can gold make men merry? they say, who can sing so merry a
note,
As he that is not able to change a groat?[116]
GRIM. Who sings in that case, sings never in tune. I know for my
part,
That a heavy pouch with gold makes a light heart;
Of which I have provided for a dear year good store,
And these benters,[117] I trow, shall anon get me more.
WILL. By serving the court with coals, you gain’d all this money.
GRIM. By the court only, I assure ye.
JACK. After what sort, I pray thee tell me?
GRIM. Nay, there bate an ace (quod Bolton[118]); I can wear a horn
and blow it not.
JACK. By ’r Lady, the wiser man.
GRIM. Shall I tell you by what sleight I got all this money?
Then ich were a noddy indeed; no, no, I warrant ye.
Yet in few words I tell you this one thing,
He is a very fool that cannot gain by the king.
WILL. Well said, Father Grim: you are a wily collier and a brave,
I see now there is no knave like to the old knave.
GRIM. Such knaves have money, when courtiers have none.
But tell me, is it true that abroad is blown?
JACK. What is that?
GRIM. Hath the king made those fair damsels his daughters,
To become now fine and trim barbers?
JACK. Yea, truly, to his own person.
GRIM. Good fellows, believe me, as the case now stands,
I would give one sack of coals to be wash’d at their hands,
If ich came so near them, for my wit chould not give three chips,
If ich could not steal one swap at their lips.
JACK. Will, this knave is drunk, let us dress him.
Let us rifle him so, that he have not one penny to bless him,
And steal away his debenters[119] too. [_Aside._
WILL. Content: invent the way, and I am ready,
JACK. Faith, and I will make him a noddy. [_Aside._
Father Grim, if you pray me well,[120] I will wash you and shave you
too,
Even after the same fashion as the king’s daughters do:
In all points as they handle Dionysius, I will dress you trim and
fine.
GRIM. Chuld vain learn that: come on then, chill give thee a whole
pint of wine
At tavern for thy labour, when ’cha money for my benters here.
[_Here_ WILL _fetcheth a barber’s bason, a pot
with water,[121] a razor, and cloths, and a
pair of spectacles._
JACK. Come, mine own Father Grim, sit down.
GRIM. Mass, to begin withal, here is a trim chair.
JACK. What, man, I will use you like a prince. Sir boy, fetch me my
gear.
WILL. Here, sir.
JACK. Hold up, Father Grim.
GRIM. Me-seem my head doth swim.
JACK. My costly perfumes make that. Away with this, sir boy: be
quick.
Aloyse, aloyse,[122] how pretty it is! is not here a good face?
A fine owl’s eyes, a mouth like an oven.
Father, you have good butter-teeth full seen.
[_Aside_] You were weaned, else you would have been a great calf.
Ah trim lips to sweep a manger! here is a chin,
As soft as the hoof of an horse.
GRIM. Doth the king’s daughters rub so hard?
JACK. Hold your head straight, man, else all will be marr’d.
By’r Lady, you are of good complexion,
A right Croyden sanguine,[123] beshrew me.
Hold up, Father Grim. Will, can you bestir ye?
GRIM. Methinks, after a marvellous fashion you do besmear me.
JACK. It is with unguentum of Daucus Maucus, that is very costly:
I give not this washing-ball to everybody.
After you have been dress’d so finely at my hand,
You may kiss any lady’s lips within this land.
Ah, you are trimly wash’d! how say you, is not this trim water?
GRIM. It may be wholesome, but it is vengeance sour.
JACK. It scours the better. Sir boy, give me my razor.
WILL. Here at hand, sir.
GRIM. God’s arms! ’tis a chopping knife, ’tis no razor.
JACK. It is a razor, and that a very good one;
It came lately from Palermo,[124] it cost me twenty crowns alone.
Your eyes dazzle after your washing, these spectacles put on:
Now view this razor, tell me, is it not a good one?
GRIM. They be gay barnacles, yet I see never the better.
JACK. Indeed they be a young sight, and that is the matter;
But I warrant you this razor is very easy.
GRIM. Go to, then; since you begun, do as [it] please ye.
JACK. Hold up, Father Grim.
GRIM. O, your razor doth hurt my lip.
JACK. No, it scrapeth off a pimple to ease you of the pip.
I have done now, how say you? are you not well?
GRIM. Cham lighter than ich was, the truth to tell.
JACK. Will you sing after your shaving?
GRIM. Mass, content; but chill be poll’d first, ere I sing.
JACK. Nay, that shall not need; you are poll’d near enough for this
time.
GRIM. Go to then lustily, I will sing in my man’s voice:
Chave a troubling base buss.
JACK. You are like to bear the bob, for we will give it:
Set out your bussing base, and we will quiddle upon it.
[GRIM _singeth Buss_.
JACK _sings_. Too nidden and too nidden.
WILL _sings_. Too nidden and toodle toodle doo nidden;
Is not Grim the collier most finely shaven?
GRIM. Why, my fellows, think ich am a cow, that you make such
toying?
JACK. Nay, by ’r Lady, you are no cow, by your singing;
Yet your wife told me you were an ox.
GRIM. Did she so? ’tis a pestens quean,[125] she is full of such
mocks.
But go to, let us sing out our song merrily.
_The Song at the shaving of the Collier._
JACK. _Such barbers God send you at all times of need._
WILL. _That can dress you [so] finely, and make such quick speed;_
JACK. _Your face like an inkhorn now shineth so gay--_
WILL. _That I with your nostrils of force must needs play,
With too nidden and too nidden._
JACK. _With too nidden and todle todle doo nidden.
Is not Grim the collier most finely shaven?_
WILL. _With shaving you shine like a pestle of pork._[126]
JACK. _Here is the trimmest hog’s flesh from London to York._
WILL. _It would be trim bacon to hang up awhile._
JACK. _To play with this hoglin of course I must smile,
With too nidden and too nidden._
WILL. _With too nidden and todle, &c._
GRIM. _Your shaving doth please me, I am now your debtor._
WILL. _Your wife now will buss you, because you are sweeter._
GRIM. _Near would I be polled, as near as cham shaven._
WILL. _Then out of your jerkin needs must you be shaken.
With too nidden and too nidden, &c._
GRIM. _It is a trim thing to be wash’d in the court._
WILL. _Their hands are so fine, that they never do hurt._
GRIM. _Me-think ich am lighter than ever ich was._
WILL. _Our shaving in the court hath brought this to pass.
With too nidden and too nidden._
JACK. _With too nidden and todle todle doo nidden.
Is not Grim the collier most finely_[127] _shaven?_
GRIM. This is trimly done: now chill pitch my coals not far hence,
And then at the tavern shall bestow whole tway pence.
[_Exit_ GRIM.
JACK. Farewell, [by] Cock. Before the collier again do us seek,
Let us into the court to part the spoil, share and share [a]like.
WILL. Away then.
[_Exeunt._
_Here entereth_ GRIM.
GRIM. Out alas, where shall I make my moan?
My pouch, my benters, and all is gone;
Where is that villain that did me shave?
H’ ath robbed me, alas, of all that I have.
_Here entereth_ SNAP.
SNAP. Who crieth so at the court-gate?
GRIM. I, the poor collier, that was robbed of late.
SNAP. Who robbed thee?
GRIM. Two of the porter’s men that did shave me.
SNAP. Why, the porter’s men are no barbers.
GRIM. A vengeance take them, they are quick carvers.
SNAP. What stature were they of?
GRIM. As little dapper knaves, as they trimly could scoff.
SNAP. They are lackeys, as near as I can guess them.
GRIM. Such lackeys make me lack; an halter beswinge them!
Cham undone, they have my benters too.
SNAP. Dost thou know them, if thou seest them?
GRIM. Yea, that I do.
SNAP. Then come with me, we will find them out, and that quickly.
GRIM. I follow, mast tipstaff; they be in the court, it is likely.
SNAP. Then cry no more, come away.
[_Exeunt._
_Here entereth_ CARISOPHUS _and_ ARISTIPPUS.
CARISOPHUS. If ever you will show your friendship, now is the time,
Seeing the king is displeased with me of my part without any crime.
ARISTIPPUS. It should appear, it comes of some evil behaviour,
That you so suddenly are cast out of favour.
CARISOPHUS. Nothing have I done but this; in talk I overthwarted
Eubulus,
When he lamented Pithias’ case to King Dionysius.
Which to-morrow shall die, but for that false knave Damon,
He hath left his friend in the briars, and now is gone.
We grew so hot in talk, that Eubulus protested plainly,
Which[128] held his ears open to parasitical flattery.
And now in the king’s ear like a bell he rings,
Crying that flatterers have been the destroyers of kings.
Which talk in Dionysius’ heart hath made so deep impression,
That he trusteth me not, as heretofore, in no condition:
And some words brake from him, as though that he
Began to suspect my truth and honesty,
Which you of friendship I know will defend, how so ever the world
goeth:
My friend--for my honesty will you not take an oath?
ARISTIPPUS. To swear for your honesty, I should lose mine own.
CARISOPHUS. Should you so, indeed? I would that were known.
Is your void friendship come thus to pass?
ARISTIPPUS. I follow the proverb: _Amicus usque ad aras_.
CARISOPHUS. Where can you say I ever lost mine honesty?
ARISTIPPUS. You never lost it, for you never had it, as far as I
know.
CARISOPHUS. Say you so, friend Aristippus, whom I trust so well?
ARISTIPPUS. Because you trust me, to you the truth I tell.
CARISOPHUS. Will you not stretch one point, to bring me in favour
again?
ARISTIPPUS. I love no stretching; so I may breed mine own pain.
CARISOPHUS. A friend ought to shun no pain, to stand his friend in
stead.
ARISTIPPUS. Where true friendship is, it is so in very deed.
CARISOPHUS. Why, sir, hath not the chain of true friendship linked
us two together?
ARISTIPPUS. The chiefest link lacked thereof, it must needs dissever.
CARISOPHUS. What link is that? fain would I know.
ARISTIPPUS. Honesty.
CARISOPHUS. Doth honesty knit the perfect knot in true friendship?
ARISTIPPUS. Yea, truly, and that knot so knit will never slip.
CARISOPHUS. Belike, then, there is no friendship but between honest
men.
ARISTIPPUS. Between the honest only; for, _Amicitia inter bonos_,[129]
saith a learned man.
CARISOPHUS. Yet evil men use friendship in things unhonest, where
fancy doth serve.
ARISTIPPUS. That is no friendship, but a lewd liking; it lasts but
a while.
CARISOPHUS. What is the perfectest friendship among men that ever
grew?
ARISTIPPUS. Where men love one another, not for profit, but for
virtue.
CARISOPHUS. Are such friends both alike in joy and also in smart?
ARISTIPPUS. They must needs; for in two bodies they have but one
heart.
CARISOPHUS. Friend Aristippus, deceive me not with sophistry:
Is there no perfect friendship, but where is virtue and honesty?
ARISTIPPUS. What a devil then meant Carisophus
To join in friendship with fine Aristippus?
In whom is as much virtue, truth and honesty,
As there are true feathers in the three Cranes of the Vintree:[130]
Yet their[131] feathers have the shadow of lively feathers, the
truth to scan,
But Carisophus hath not the shadow of an honest man.
To be plain, because I know thy villainy,
In abusing Dionysius to many men’s injury,
Under the cloak of friendship I play’d with his head,
And sought means how thou with thine own fancy might be led.
My friendship thou soughtest for thine own commodity,
As worldly men do, by profit measuring amity:
Which I perceiving, to the like myself I framed,
Wherein I know of the wise I shall not be blamed:
If you ask me; _Quare_? I answer, _Quia prudentis est multum
dissimulare_.
To speak more plainer, as the proverb doth go,
In faith, Carisophus, _cum Cretense cretizo_.
Yet a perfect friend I show myself to thee in one thing,
I do not dissemble, now I say I will not speak for thee to the king:
Therefore sink in thy sorrow, I do not deceive thee,
A false knave I found thee, a false knave I leave thee.
[_Exit_.
CARISOPHUS. He is gone! is this friendship, to leave his friend in
the plain field?
Well, I see now I myself have beguiled,
In matching with that false fox in amity,
Which hath me used to his own commodity:
Which seeing me in distress, unfeignedly goes his ways.
Lo, this is the perfect friendship among men now-a-days;
Which kind of friendship toward him I used secretly;
And he with me the like hath requited me craftily,
It is the gods’ judgment, I see it plainly,
For all the world may know, _Incidi in foveam quam feci_.
Well, I must content myself, none other help I know,
Until a merrier gale of wind may hap to blow.
[_Exit_.
_Enter_ EUBULUS.
EUBULUS. Who deals with kings in matters of great weight,
When froward will doth bear the chiefest sway,
Must yield of force; there need no subtle sleight,
No painted[132] speech the matter to convey.
No prayer can move, when kindled is the ire.
The more ye quench, the more increased[133] the fire.
This thing I prove in Pithias’ woful case,
Whose heavy hap with tears I do lament:
The day is come, when he, in Damon’s place,
Must lose his life: the time is fully spent.
Nought can my words now with the king prevail,
Against the wind and striving stream[134] I sail:
For die thou must, alas! thou seely Greek.
Ah Pithias, now come is thy doleful hour:
A perfect friend, one[135] such a world to seek.
Though bitter death shall give thee sauce full sour,
Yet for thy faith enroll’d shall be thy name
Among the gods within the book of fame.
Who knoweth his case, and will not melt in tears?
His guiltless blood shall trickle down anon.
_Then the_ MUSES _sing._
_Alas, what hap hast thou, poor Pithias, now to die!
Woe worth the man which for his death hath given us cause to cry._
EUBULUS. _Methink I hear, with yellow rented hairs,
The Muses frame their notes, my state to moan:[136]
Among which sort, as one that mourneth with heart,
In doleful times myself will bear a part._
MUSES. _Woe worth the man which for his death, &c._
EUBULUS. _With yellow rented hairs, come on, you Muses nine;
Fill now my breast with heavy tunes, to me your plaint resign:_
_For Pithias I bewail, which presently must die,
Woe worth the man which for his death hath given us cause, &c._
MUSES. _Woe worth the man which for his, &c._
EUBULUS. _Was ever such a man, that would die for his friend?
I think even from the heavens above the gods did him down send
To show true friendship’s power, which forc’d thee now to die.
Woe worth the man which for thy death, &c._
MUSES. _Woe worth the man, &c._
EUBULUS. _What tiger’s whelp was he, that Damon did accuse?
What faith hast thou, which for thy friend thy death doth not refuse?
O heavy hap hadst thou to play this tragedy!
Woe worth the man which for thy death, &c._
MUSES. _[Woe] worth the man, &c._
EUBULUS. _Thou young and worthy Greek, that showeth such perfect
love,
The gods receive thy simple ghost into the heavens above:
Thy death we shall lament with many a weeping eye.
Woe worth the man, which for his death, &c._
MUSES. _Woe worth the man, which for thy death hath given us cause
to cry._
EUBULUS. Eternal be your fame, ye Muses, for that in misery
Ye did vouchsafe to strain your notes to walk.
My heart is rent in two with this miserable case,
Yet am I charged by Dionysius’ mouth to see this place
At all points ready for the execution of Pithias.
Need hath no law: will[137] I or nil I, it must be done,
But lo, the bloody minister is even here at hand.
_Enter_ GRONNO.
Gronno, I came hither now to understand,
If all things are well appointed for the execution of Pithias.
The king himself will see it done here in this place.
GRONNO. Sir, all things are ready, here is the place, here is the
hand, here is the sword:
Here lacketh none but Pithias, whose head at a word,
If he were present, I could finely strike off--
You may report that all things are ready.
EUBULUS. I go with an heavy heart to report it. Ah woful Pithias!
Full near now is thy misery.
[_Exit_.
GRONNO. I marvel very much, under what constellation
All hangmen are born, for they are hated of all, beloved of none:
Which hatred is showed by this point evidently:
The hangman always dwells in the vilest place of the city.
That such spite should be, I know no cause why,
Unless it be for their office’s sake, which is cruel and bloody.
Yet some men must do it to execute laws.
Me-think they hate me without any just cause.
But I must look to my toil; Pithias must lose his head at one blow,
Else the boys will stone me to death in the street, as I go.
But hark, the prisoner cometh, and the king also:
I see there is no help, Pithias his life must forego.
_Here entereth_ DIONYSIUS _and_ EUBULUS.
DIONYSIUS. Bring forth Pithias, that pleasant companion,
Which took me at my word, and became pledge for Damon.
It pricketh[138] fast upon noon, I do him no injury,
If now he lose his head, for so he requested me,
If Damon return not, which now in Greece is full merry:
Therefore shall Pithias pay his death, and that by and by.
He thought belike, if Damon were out of the city,
I would not put him to death for some foolish pity:
But seeing it was his request, I will not be mock’d, he shall die;
Bring him forth.
_Here entereth_ SNAP.[139]
SNAP. Give place; let the prisoner come by; give place.
DIONYSIUS. How say you, sir; where is Damon, your trusty friend?
You have play’d a wise part, I make God a vow:
You know what time a day it is; make you ready.
PITHIAS. Most ready I am, mighty king, and most ready also
For my true friend Damon this life to forego,
Even at your pleasure.
DIONYSIUS. A true friend! a false traitor, that so breaketh his
oath!
Thou shalt lose thy life, though thou be never so loth.
PITHIAS. I am not loth to do whatsoever I said,
Ne at this present pinch of death am I dismay’d:
The gods now I know have heard my fervent prayer,
That they have reserved me to this passing great honour,
To die for my friend, whose faith even now I do not mistrust;
My friend Damon is no false traitor, he is true and just:
But sith he is no god, but a man, he must do as he may,
The wind may be contrary, sickness may let him,[140] or some
misadventure by the way,
Which the eternal gods turn all to my glory,
That fame may resound how Pithias for Damon did die:
He breaketh no oath which doth as much as he can,
His mind is here, he hath some let, he is but a man.
That he might not return of all the gods I did require,
Which now to my joy do[141] grant my desire.
But why do I stay any longer, seeing that one man’s death
May suffice, O king, to pacify thy wrath?
O thou minister of justice, do thine office by and by,
Let not thy hand tremble, for I tremble not to die.
Stephano, the right pattern of true fidelity,
Commend me to thy master, my sweet Damon, and of him crave liberty
When I am dead, in my name; for thy trusty services
Hath well deserved a gift far better than this.
O my Damon, farewell now for ever, a true friend, to me most dear;
Whiles life doth last, my mouth shall still talk of thee,
And when I am dead, my simple ghost, true witness of amity,
Shall hover about the place, wheresoever thou be.
DIONYSIUS. Eubulus, this gear is strange; and yet because
Damon hath fals’d his faith, Pithias shall have the law.
Gronno, despoil him, and eke dispatch him quickly.
GRONNO. It shall be done; since you came into this place,
I might have stroken off seven heads in this space.
By’r Lady, here are good garments, these are mine, by the rood!
It is an evil wind that bloweth no man good.
Now, Pithias, kneel down, ask me blessing like a pretty boy,
And with a trice thy head from thy shoulders I will convey.
_Here entereth_ DAMON _running, and stays the sword_.
DAMON. Stay, stay, stay! for the king’s advantage, stay!
O mighty king, mine appointed time is not yet fully pass’d;
Within the compass of mine hour, lo, here I come at last.
A life I owe, and a life I will you pay:
O my Pithias, my noble pledge, my constant friend!
Ah! woe is me! for Damon’s sake, how near were thou to thy end!
Give place to me, this room is mine, on this stage must I play.
Damon is the man, none ought but he to Dionysius his blood to pay.
GRONNO. Are you come, sir? you might have tarried, if you had been
wise:
For your hasty coming you are like to know the price.
PITHIAS. O thou cruel minister, why didst not thou thine office?
Did I not beg thee make haste in any wise?
Hast thou spared to kill me once, that I may die twice?
Not to die for my friend is present death to me; and alas!
Shall I see my sweet Damon slain before my face?
What double death is this? but, O mighty Dionysius,
Do true justice now: weigh this aright, thou noble Eubulus;
Let me have no wrong, as now stands the case:
Damon ought not to die, but Pithias:
By misadventure, not by his will, his hour is past; therefore I,
Because he came not at his just time, ought justly to die:
So was my promise, so was thy promise, O king,
All this court can bear witness of this thing.
DAMON. Not so, O mighty king: to justice it is contrary,
That for another man’s fault the innocent should die:
Ne yet is my time plainly expired, it is not fully noon.
Of this my day appointed, by all the clocks in the town.
PITHIAS. Believe no clock, the hour is past by the sun.
DAMON. Ah my Pithias, shall we now break the bonds of amity?
Will you now overthwart me, which heretofore so well did agree?
PITHIAS. My Damon, the gods forbid but we should agree;
Therefore agree to this, let me perform the promise made for thee.
Let me die for thee: do me not that injury,
Both to break my promise, and to suffer me to see thee die,
Whom so dearly I love: this small request grant me,
I shall never ask thee more, my desire is but friendly.
Do me this honour, that fame may report triumphantly,
That Pithias for his friend Damon was contented to die.
DAMON. That you were contented for me to die, fame cannot deny;
Yet fame shall never touch me with such a villainy,
To report that Damon did suffer his friend Pithias for him guiltless
to die;
Therefore content thyself, the gods requite thy constant faith,
None but Damon’s blood can appease Dionysius’ wrath.
And now, O mighty king, to you my talk I convey;
Because you gave me leave my worldly things to stay,
To requite that good turn, ere I die, for your behalf this I say,
Although your regal state dame Fortune decketh so,
That like a king in worldly wealth abundantly ye flow,
Yet fickle is the ground whereon all tyrants tread,
A thousand sundry cares and fears do haunt their restless head:
No trusty band, no faithful friends do guard thy hateful state,
And why? whom men obey for deadly fear, sure them they deadly hate.
That you may safely reign, by love get friends, whose constant faith
Will never fail, this counsel gives poor Damon at his death:
Friends are the surest guard for kings, gold in time does[142] wear
away,
And other precious things do fade, friendship will never decay.
Have friends in store therefore, so shall you safely sleep;
Have friends at home, of foreign foes so need you take no keep.
Abandon flatt’ring tongues, whose clacks truth never tell;
Abase the ill, advance the good, in whom dame virtue dwells;
Let them your playfellows be: but O, you earthly kings,
Your sure defence and strongest guard stands chiefly in faithful
friends:
Then get you friends by liberal deeds; and here I make an end.
Accept this counsel, mighty king, of Damon, Pithias’ friend.
O my Pithias! now farewell for ever, let me kiss thee, ere I die,
My soul shall honour thee, thy constant faith above the heavens
shall fly.
Come, Gronno, do thine office now; why is thy colour so dead?
My neck is so short, that thou wilt never have honesty in striking
off this head.[143]
DIONYSIUS. Eubulus, my spirits are suddenly appalled, my limbs wax
weak:
This strange friendship amazeth me so, that I can scarce speak.
PITHIAS. O mighty king, let some pity your noble heart meve;
You require but one man’s death, take Pithias, let Damon live.
EUBULUS. O unspeakable friendship!
DAMON. Not so, he hath not offended, there is no cause why
My constant friend Pithias for Damon’s sake should die.
Alas, he is but young, he may do good to many.
Thou coward minister, why dost thou not let me die?
GRONNO. My hand with sudden fear quivereth.
PITHIAS. O noble king, show mercy upon Damon, let Pithias die.
DIONYSIUS. Stay, Gronno, my flesh trembleth. Eubulus, what shall I
do?
Were there ever such friends on earth as were these two?
What heart is so cruel that would divide them asunder?
O noble friendship, I must yield; at thy force I wonder.
My heart this rare friendship hath pierc’d to the root,
And quenched all my fury: this sight hath brought this about,
Which thy grave counsel, Eubulus, and learned persuasion could never
do.
[_To_ DAMON _and_ PITHIAS] O noble gentlemen, the immortal gods above
Hath made you play this tragedy, I think, for my behoof:
Before this day I never knew what perfect friendship meant.
My cruel mind to bloody deeds was full and wholly bent:
My fearful life I thought with terror to defend,
But now I see there is no guard unto a faithful friend,
Which will not spare his life at time of present need:
O happy kings, who in[144] your courts have two such friends indeed!
I honour friendship now, which that you may plainly see,
Damon, have thou thy life, from death I pardon thee;
For which good turn, I crave, this honour do me lend,
O friendly heart, let me link with you, to you[145] make me the
third friend.
My court is yours; dwell here with me, by my commission large,
Myself, my realm, my wealth, my health, I commit to your charge:
Make me a third friend, more shall I joy in that thing,
Than to be called, as I am, Dionysius the mighty king.
DAMON. O mighty king, first for my life most humble thanks I give,
And next, I praise the immortal gods that did your heart so meve,
That you would have respect to friendship’s heavenly lore,
Foreseeing well he need not fear which hath true friends in store.
For my part, most noble king, as a third friend, welcome to our
friendly society;
But you must forget you are a king, for friendship stands in true
equality.
DIONYSIUS. Unequal though I be in great possessions,
Yet full equal shall you find me in my changed conditions.
Tyranny, flattery, oppression, lo, here I cast away;
Justice, truth, love, friendship, shall be my joy:
True friendship will I honour unto my life’s end;
My greatest glory shall be to be counted a perfect friend.
PITHIAS. For this your deed, most noble king, the gods advance your
name,
And since to friendship’s lore you list your princely heart to frame,
With joyful heart, O king, most welcome now to me,
With you will I knit the perfect knot of amity:
Wherein I shall instruct you so, and Damon here your friend,
That you may know of amity the mighty force, and eke the joyful end:
And how that kings do stand upon a fickle ground,
Within whose realm at time of need no faithful friends are found.
DIONYSIUS. Your instruction will I follow; to you myself I do commit.
Eubulus, make haste to fet new apparel, fit
For my new friends.
EUBULUS. I go with joyful heart. O happy day! [_Aside._]
[_Exit._
GRONNO. I am glad to hear this word. Though their lives they do not
lese,
It is no reason[146] the hangman should lose his fees:
These are mine, I am gone with a trice.
[_Exit_.
_Here entereth_ EUBULUS _with new garments_.
DIONYSIUS. Put on these garments now; go in with me, the jewels of
my court.
DAMON _and_ PITHIAS. We go with joyful hearts.
STEPHANO. O Damon, my dear master, in all this joy remember me.
DIONYSIUS. My friend Damon, he asketh reason.
DAMON. Stephano, for thy good service be thou free.
[_Exeunt_ DION.[147]
STEPHANO. O most happy, pleasant, joyful, and triumphant day!
Poor Stephano now shall live in continual play:[148]
_Vive le roy_, with Damon and Pithias, in perfect amity.
_Vive tu_, Stephano, in thy pleasant liberality:[149]
Wherein I joy as much as he that hath a conquest won,
I am a free man, none so merry as I now under the sun.
Farewell, my lords, now the gods grant you all the sum of perfect
amity,
And me long to enjoy my long-desired liberty.
[_Exit._
_Here entereth_ EUBULUS _beating_ CARISOPHUS.
Away, villain! away, you flatt’ring parasite!
Away, the plague of this court! thy filed tongue, that forged lies,
No more here shall do hurt: away, false sycophant! wilt thou not?
CARISOPHUS. I am gone, sir, seeing it is the king’s pleasure.
Why whip ye me alone? a plague take Damon and Pithias! since they
came hither,
I am driven to seek relief abroad, alas! I know not whither.
Yet, Eubulus, though I be gone, here after time shall try,
There shall be found even in this court as great flatterers as I.
Well, for a while I will forego the court, though to my great pain:
I doubt not but to spy a time, when I may creep in again.
[_Exit._
EUBULUS. The serpent that eats men alive, flattery, with all her
brood,
Is whipp’d away in princes’ courts, which yet did never good.
What force, what mighty power true friendship may possess,
To all the world Dionysius’ court now plainly doth express:
Who since to faithful friends he gave his willing ear,
Most safely sitteth on his seat, and sleeps devoid of fear.
Purged is the court of vice, since friendship ent’red in,
Tyranny quails, he studieth now with love each heart to win:
Virtue is had in price, and hath his just reward;
And painted speech, that gloseth for gain, from gifts is quite
debarr’d.
One loveth another now for virtue, not for gain;
Where virtue doth not knit the knot, there friendship cannot reign;
Without the which no house, no land, no kingdom can endure,
As necessary for man’s life as water, air, and fire,
Which frameth the mind of man all honest things to do.
Unhonest things friendship ne craveth, ne yet consents thereto.
In wealth a double joy, in woe a present stay,
A sweet companion in each state true friendship is alway:
A sure defence for kings, a perfect trusty band,
A force to assail, a shield to defend the enemies’ cruel hand;
A rare and yet the greatest gift that God can give to man;
So rare, that scarce four couple of faithful friends have been,
since the world began.
A gift so strange and of such price, I wish all kings to have;
But chiefly yet, as duty bindeth, I humbly crave,
True friendship and true friends, full fraught with constant faith,
The giver of all friends, the Lord, grant her, most noble Queen
Elizabeth.
_The Last Song._
_The strongest guard that kings can have,
Are constant friends their state to save;
True friends are constant both in word and deed,
True friends are present, and help at each need;
True friends talk truly, they glose for no gain,
When treasure consumeth, true friends will remain;
True friends for their true prince refuseth not their death:
The Lord grant her such friends, most noble Queen Elizabeth._
_Long may she govern in honour and wealth,
Void of all sickness, in most perfect health;
Which health to prolong, as true friends require,
God grant she may have her own heart’s desire:
Which friends will defend with most steadfast faith,
The Lord grant her such friends, most noble Queen Elizabeth._
FINIS.
[1] [This preface was found among my father’s dramatic
collectanea, formed about 1850, and I have printed it
with a few additions.--_W.C.H._]
[2] It was acted on the 2d and 3d September 1566.
[3] [Warton’s “H.E.P.,” by Hazlitt, iv., 215-16.]
[4] “Annals of the Stage,” iii., 1.
[5] “British Bibliographer,” Introduction to the “Paradise
of Dainty Devices,” p. vi. The reader may also be
referred to Brydges’ “Restituta,” i., 367; “Brit.
Bibl.” i., 494; “Censura Literaria,” first edit. vii.,
350.
[6] [Warton’s “H.E.P.,” by Hazlitt,” iv., 215.]
[7] See “Nugæ Antiquæ,” vol. ii., p. 392, ed. 1804.
[8] [As to the song of the “Willow Garland,” mentioned
by Warton as by Edwards, see “H.E.P.” by Hazlitt, iv.,
216.]
[9] “History of English Poetry,” by Hazlitt, iv., p. 21.
[A writer in the “Shakespeare Society’s Papers,” vol.
ii., printed from what he supposed to be a fragment of
a later impression of this book the story of the
“Waking Man’s Dream,” which is also to be found
narrated in Burton’s “Anatomy of Melancholy,” 1621.]
[10] [See Warton’s “H.E.P.” by Hazlitt, iv., 214.
Warton is very positive in asserting that the first
edition was not in 1571, but in 1570, yet no such
edition is at present known. The play, however, having
been licensed in 1567 (Collier’s “Extr. from Stat.
Reg.” i., 166), it is extremely probable that it was
published even before 1570.]
[11] A specimen of the elegy on Edwards by Turbervile
printed in the editions of his poems in 1567 and 1570,
is here subjoined:
“Epitaph on Maister Edwards, sometime Maister of the
Children of the Chappell, and Gentleman of Lyncolnes
Inne of Court--
“Ye Learned Muses nine, and sacred Sisters all,
Now lay your cheereful Cithrons downe and to
lamenting fall.
Rent off those garlandes greene, doe laurel leaves
away,
Remove the myrtill from your browes, and stint on
strings to play;
For he that led the daunce, the chiefest of your
traine,
I meane the man that Edwards height, by cruell
death is slaine.
Ye courtyers chaunge your cheere, lament in
wailfull wise,
For now your Orpheus hath resignd, in clay his
Carcas lies.
O ruth, he is bereft, that whilst he liued heere,
For Poet’s Pen and passing Wit, could haue no
Englishe Peere.
His vaine in Verse was such, so stately eke his
stile,
His feate in forging sugred Songs with cleane and
curious file;
As all the learned Greekes and Romaines would
repine,
If they did live againe, to vewe his Verse with
scornefull eine.”
[12] Nature.
[13] _Authours_, first edition.
[14] _Spake_, second edition.
[15] Although it is obvious that great pains were taken
by Mr Reed and others (to say nothing of Dodsley) in
the collation of this dramatic piece, yet they left it
in a very imperfect state. In the course of it not less
than fifty important variations and errors have been
detected, consisting of words omitted, and words
accidentally inserted, independently of errors of the
press, for which of course an editor was not
responsible. It is hoped that it will be now found more
uniformly correct, although the editor can scarcely
flatter himself that the reprint may not be still found
defective.--_Collier._
[16] _Philosophie_, both editions. The alteration by Mr
Dodsley. [But Dodsley does not seem to have perceived
that by the change he converted the text into nonsense.
The original reads--
“Lovers of wisdom are termed philosophie.”
The emendation introduced was suggested by Mr Collier,
who remarks:] “In the next line the author expressly
speaks of _lovyng of wisdom_, as if intending to employ
the words he had used before.”
[17] [Scurrility.]
[18] _Great_, second edition.
[19] Omitted in second edition.
[20] _The_, second edition.
[21] Omitted in second edition.
[22] [The original has _consultat_.]
[23] A _Fletcher_ is a maker of arrows, from _fleche_
an arrow, Fr. The _Fletcher’s_ Company had several
charters granted to them, though at present, I believe,
they have only a nominal existence. Aristippus means to
say, that he differs as much in disposition from
_Carisophus_, as Jack the _arrowsmith_ varies in
quality from a _bolt_ or _arrow_ of his own
making.--_S._
[24] So, in [Fulwell’s] “Leke [will] to Leke, quoth the
Devil to the Collier” [1568]:
“There thou mayst be called a knave in grane,
And where knaves be scant thou mayst go for twayne.”
See a note on “The Two Gentlemen of Verona,” vol. i.,
edition 1778, p. 176.--_S._
[25] _i.e.,_ If he were hanged for it, he could not
tell one tale without telling two lies. Yet Mr Collier
would change _where_ to _were he_.
[26] This whole line is omitted in the later of the two
old copies, and as Mr Reed and his friend remarked in
their notes sometimes even the variation of letters, it
is singular that they should have passed over this
circumstance without observation.--_Collier._
[27] _Meane_, second edition.
[28] Ed. 1571 has _patron_.
[29] This was proverbial. See [Hazlitt’s] “Collection
of Proverbs,” p. 291.
[30] A proverbial expression often found in ancient
writers. Heywood has it: “Happy man, happy _dole_.” See
Dyce’s Glossary to his second edition of Shakespeare,
p. 201. _Dole_, Mr Steevens observes (Notes to “The
Taming of the Shrew,” act i., sc. 1), is any thing
dealt out or distributed, though its original meaning
was the provision given away at the doors of great
men’s houses. It is generally written _be his dole_,
though Ray, p. 116, gives it as in the second 4to _by_
his dole. Shakespeare also uses the phrase in “The
Merry Wives of Windsor.”
Again, in “Hudibras,” p. 1, c. 3, l. 637--
“Let us that are unhurt and whole,
Fall on, and _happy man be’s dole_.”
[31] _He_, first edition.
[32] _Bosome_, second edition.
[33] Original, _outwery_.
[34] _Seeketh_, second edition.
[35] _Grace_, second edition.
[36] _Quietly_, first edition.
[37] [i.e., So near _are they_.]
[38] To _contrive_ in this place signifies to wear
away, to spend, from _contero_, Lat. So in
Shakespeare’s “Taming of the Shrew,” act i., sc. 2--
“Please you we many _contrive_ this afternoon?”
Totum hunc _contrivi_ diem.--_S._ See also the Notes of
Dr Warburton and Dr Johnson on the above line in
Shakespeare.
[39] Taunts or sarcasms. See Johnson.--_N._
[40] _Plain-song_ is _planus cantus_, uniform
modulation. _Descant_ is musical paraphrase. See a Note
on “The Midsummer Night’s Dream,” vol. iii., p. 63; and
another on “King Richard III.” vol. vii., p. 6, edit.
1778.--_S._
[41] Spenser has this word which, as Dr Johnson observes,
appears to be the same as _winch_. It should seem to be
expressive of some slight degree of pain, and in this
instance to mean the same as if the speaker had said, I
care not a _fillip_.--_S._
[42] Dionysius the tyrant is said to have punished with
death one of his subjects for dreaming he had killed
him. This was hardly more iniquitous than the execution
of the gentleman, who having a white deer in his park,
which was killed by Edward the Fourth, wished the deer,
horns and all, in the belly of him that counselled the
king to kill it, _whereas in truth no man counselled
the king to it_: or than the attainder and execution of
Algernon Sydney, on the evidence of private and unpublished
papers, without any proof, or even a suggestion, of
their intended publication.”--_Principles of Penal
Law_, c. 11.
[43] _With crueltie_, second edition.
[44] _Through_, both editions. The alteration by Mr
Dodsley.
[45] _Is lyke unto a stage_, second edition.
[46] This sentence stands in the old copies, _Omnis
solum fortis patria_.--_Collier._ [But Mr Collier
printed _patriæ_.
[47] See [Hazlitt’s] “Proverbs,” p. [336.]
[48] The _seat_ means _the situation_. See, in Dr
Johnson’s Dictionary, instances of it from Raleigh,
Hayward, Bacon, and B. Jonson.--_N._
So Duncan, in “Macbeth,” says--
“This castle hath a pleasant _seat_.”
[49] This quotation is given as follows in both the old
copies--
“_Dic mihi musa virum captæ post tempora Trojæ,
Multorum homines mores qui vidit et urbes._”
Query--Was it meant by the author that Damon should
misquote?--_Collier._ [Surely not.]
[50] _This is he_, &c., first edition.
[51] _i.e._, Plentiful suppers, luxurious couches, and
the king’s purse full of gold at command. [In the
original this is printed so as to be absolute
nonsense.]
Aristippus was not intended for a blunderer.--_S._
[52] _Tyoe_, first edition.
[53] A cant term for be silent; _mum_ and _budget_ are
the words made use of by Slender and Ann Page in “The
Merry Wives of Windsor.”
[54] [To make up his plunder or prize-money. From the
old French _bouge_.]
[55] The first edition reads--
“I wyll lay _one mouth_ for you to Dionysius,” &c.,
which was altered in the second edition as it stands in
the text.--_Collier._
[56] A proverbial expression, of which it is difficult
to give a satisfactory explanation, though the meaning
of it is sufficiently obvious. A gentleman, who formerly
wrote in _The Gentleman’s Magazine_ under a feigned
name, supposes the word _cat_ should be changed to
_cate_; “an old word for a _cake_ or other _aumalette_,
which being usually _fried_, and consequently _turn’d
in the pan_, does therefore very aptly express the
changing of sides in politics or religion, or, as we
otherwise say, _the turning one’s coat_. _Gentleman’s
Magazine_, 1754, p. 66. Another writer, however, gives
the following [very absurd] explanation of it:--
“_Capitan_, to turn _capitan_, from a people called
_Catipani_, in _Calabria_ and _Apulia_, who got an ill
name by reason of their perfidy; very falsely by us
called _Cat in pan_.”--_Ibid._ p. 172.
[57] _Should_, second edition.
[58] _Commodity_ is interest. So in the former part of
this play, p. 198--
“They would honour friendship, and not _for
commodity_.”
and see “King John,” act ii., sc. 2--
“_Commodity_, the bias of the world.”
[59] [A rare word in this sense; for it appears to stand
for _blab_.]
[60] [Original reads _tunes_. The emendation was first
suggested by Mr Collier.]
[61] Regale sorta di strumento simile all’organo,
maminore.--Baretti _Dizion. Ital. ed Ing._ Bacon
distinguishes between _the regal_ and the organ in a
manner which shows them to be instruments of the same
class. “The sounds that produce tones are ever from
such bodies as have their parts and pores equal, as are
nightingale _pipes of regals_ or organs.”--_Nat. Hist._
cent, ii., sec. 102. But, notwithstanding these
authorities, the appellative _regal_ has given great
trouble to the lexicographer, whose sentiments with
regard to its signification are collected and brought
into one point of view by Sir John Hawkins, in his
“History of Music,” vol. ii., p. 448, from whence this
note is extracted. See also a note by the Hon. Daines
Barrington to “Hamlet,” act iii., sc. 2, in the edition
of Shakspeare, 1773, omitted in that of 1778.
[62] _Seeing_, second edit.
[63] _Should_, first edit.
[64] _Now_, first edit.
[65] _Unto_, second edit.
[66] [_Too_, first edit.]
[67] [_What_, both eds.]
[68] Crowd.
[69] “_King_” is omitted in the first edition, and
supplied by the second.--_Collier._
[70] _This_, first edition.
[71] [Old editions have, _where opinion simplenesse
have_, &c. Simpleness, ignorance--_i.e._, who have
deserved mercy, having offended from not knowing
better.]
[72] _Thrust_, first edition.
[73] [Old edit., _injurie_.]
[74] _Yeelde speedily_, second edition.
[75] _To pawne_, second edition.
[76] Folly. Thus Spenser, in his Sonnets,
“_Fondess_ it were for any, being free,
To covet fetters, though they golden be.”
[77] Old editions read, Take heede: _for life wordly_, &c.
[78] Hinder me.
[79] [I do not understand the allusion. The sense seems
to be, I will beat you, come what may--I will put
_prudence_ in my purse or pocket.]
[80] [Originals have _colpheg you_.] I believe we should
read, _colaphize_--i.e., box or buffet. _Colaphiser_,
Fr. See Cotgrave’s “Dictionary.”--_Steevens._
[81] _i.e._, Loose companion. So Spenser--
“Might not be found a ranker _franion_.”
Again--
“A faire _franion_ fit for such a pheere.”--_S._
Again, in “The First Part of King Edward IV.,” sign. C,
p. 5: “Hees a _franke franion_, a merrie companion, and
loves a wench well.”
[82] See Note to “Gammer Gurton’s Needle,” vol. iii.,
p. 198.
[83] [_Stephano_ spelled backwards.]
[84] Read Κρητιξω. Vide Erasm. _Adag._ The _Cretans_
were famous for double-dealing. _Cretizare_, however,
is a word employ’d by lexicographers, instead of
mentiri.--_Steevens_.
[85] Crack-rope was a common term of contempt in old
plays.
“You codshed, you _cracke-rope_, you chattering pye.”
--_Apius and Virginia_, sign. B.
Again in that very rare play, “The Two Italian Gentlemen”--
“Then let him be led through every streete in the town,
That every _crackrope_ may fling rotten egs at the
clown.”
--_Collier_. [See also Tarlton’s “Jests,” 1611 (“Old
English Jest-Books,” ii., p. 211).]
[86] [Old edition, _which_.]
[87] [Old editions have _monckes_.]
[88] [Old editions have _pantacle_.] I suppose he means
to say a _pantofle_--_i.e._, a slipper. Perhaps he
begins his attack with a kick.--_S._ The second edition
reads--
“Even heere with a _faire_ pantacle I will you disgrace,”
an epithet not found in the oldest copy, and hardly
consistent with the supposition that _pantacle_ means
_pantofle_.--_Collier_. [Probably, a slap on the face.]
[89] _Geve_, second edition.
[90] More properly _touch-box_. While match-locks,
instead of fire-locks, to guns were used, the
_touch-box_, at which the match was lighted, was part
of the accoutrement of a soldier.
“When she his flask and _touch-box_ set on fire.”
Line of an author, whose name I cannot at this time
recollect.--_Steevens_.
[91] A Dottrel is a silly kind of bird which imitates
the actions of the fowler, till at last he is taken. If
the fowler stretches out a leg, the bird will do so to.
So, in Butler’s “Character of a Fantastic (_Remains_,
vol. ii., p. 132)”: “He alters his gate with the times,
and has not a motion of his body that (_like a
Dottrel_) he does not borrow from somebody else.” See
also Jonson’s “Devil is an Ass,” iv., 6, and Dyce’s
“Beaumont and Fletcher,” iii., 79, and v., 64.
[92] [Original here has _Cobex epi_. Colliers used to
be nick-named _Carry-coals_. See Hazlitt’s “Proverbs,”
p. 98.]
[93] [Do up, open.]
[94] [For the supply of the court, or _Bouche de la cour_.]
[95] _It was you_, first edition.
[96] _Doth_, second edition].
[97] _i.e._, A cast of that species of hawks that were
called _Merlins_.--_Steevens._ He calls them
[_merlins_, which he might perhaps have been supposed
to pronounce] _Murlons_ on account of their size.
_Merlins_ were the smallest species of hawks.
Turbervile says, “These _merlyns_ are very much like
the haggart falcon in plume, in seare of the foote, in
beake and talons. So as there seemeth to be no oddes or
difference at al betwixt them save only in the
_bignesse_, for she hath like demeanure, like plume,
and very like conditions to the falcon, and in hir kind
is of like courage, and therefore must be kept as
choycely and as daintly as the falcon.” The _merlin_
was chiefly used to fly at small birds; and Latham
says, it was particularly appropriated to the service
of ladies.
[98] _Father Grimme_, second edition.
[99] [Something seems to have dropped out of the text
here to this purport.]
[100] Adopted into the original text from the second
edition.--_Collier._
[101] [A play on the similarity between _rug_ and
_rogue_.]
[102] _What fault can you see heere?_ second edition.
[103] [Small casks, buckets.]
[104] _i.e._, Robin red breasts. Shakespeare uses
_ruddock_ for red breast in “Cymbeline.”--_S._ Again,
in Nash’s “Lenten Stuff,” 1599: “He eft soons defined
unto me, that the red herring was this old tickle cob,
or magister fac totum, that brought in the _red
ruddocks_, and the grummel seed as thick as oatmeal,
and made Yarmouth for Argent to put down the city of
Argentine.”
[105] _Hose at_, second edition.
[106] _Well_, first edition.
[107] [Luscious.]
[108] An intended mistake for _muscadine._--_S._
[109] _Jebit avow mon companion._ Both 4tos.--_S._
[110] _Ihar vow pleadge pety Zawne._ Both 4tos.
[_Zawne_ appears to be a loose application of _Zani_
quasi _noodle_, though here, perhaps, the meaning is
rather _mimic_.]
[111] _Was_, second edition.
[112] [Interrupt? See Nares, edition 1859, in v.]
[113] _Coppe_, in Chaucer, is used for the top of
anything, and here seems intended to signify the head,
or, as the common phrase is, a _hair-brained_ fellow.
[114] _Merie_, second edition.
[115] See “Gammer Gurton’s Needle,” vol. iii., p. 189,
note.
[116] [See Rimbault’s “Little Book of Songs and
Ballads,” 1851, p. 83.]
[117] _Benne_ is the French word for a sack to carry
coals. See Cotgrave.
[118] Bate me an ace, quoth Bolton, is among the
Proverbs published by Mr Ray. That gentleman adds, “Who
this _Bolton_ was I know not, neither is it worth
enquiring. One of this name might happen to say, _Bate
me an ace_, and, for the coincidence of the first
letters of the two words _Bate_ and _Bolton_, it grew
to be a proverb. We have many of the like original; as
_v.g._ Sup, Simon, &c., Stay, quoth Stringer, &c. There
goes a story of Queen Elizabeth, that being presented
with a Collection of English Proverbs, and told by the
author that it contained all the English Proverbs, nay,
replied she, _Bate me an ace, quoth Bolton_: which
Proverb being instantly looked for, happened to be
wanting in his Collection.” [See Hazlitt’s] “Proverbs,”
p. [80.] This story of Queen Elizabeth forms the point
of an epigram by H.P. (probably Henry Parrot) in a
collection called “The Mastive,” 1615--
“A pamphlet was of proverbs penn’d by Polton
Wherein he thought all sorts included were;
Until one told him, _Bate m’ an ace, quoth Bolton_:
Indeed (said he) that proverb is not there.”
[119] [Sacks of coal, more properly, _benters_, as just
above.]
[120] In the former edition, Mr Dodsley had altered
this to _pay mee wel_.
[121] [Urine.]
[122] _Aloue_, French is to allow, to approve, to
praise. I know of no other word that resembles that in
the text. _Alosed_, in Chaucer, is _praised_.--_S._
[Possibly, _Hallo, hallo!_ may be the true reading.]
[123] From the manner in which this expression is used
by Sir John Harington, in “The Anatomie of the
Metamorphosis of Ajax,” 1596, sig. L, 7, it seems as
though it was intended for a sallow hue. “Both of a
complexion inclining to the oriental colour of a
_Croyden sanguine_.”
[124] The 4tos read _Pallarrime_. The razors of Palermo
were anciently famous. They are mentioned in more than
one of our old plays, and particularly in “The Wounds
of Civill War,” by Thomas Lodge, 1594, “Neighbour
sharpen the edge tole of your wits upon the whetstone
of indiscretion, that your wordes may shine like _the
rasers of Palermo_.”--_S_.
[125] He means a _pestilence_ quean.--_S._
[126] _A pestle of porke_--_i.e._, gammon of
bacon.--_Minsheu._
[127] _Trimly_, second edition.
[128] [_i.e._, Dionysius, to which Dodsley changed it.]
[129] _Bonns_, both 4tos.
[130] Sometimes called New Queen Street, where there
seems to have been the sign of _the three Cranes_. Ben
Jonson mentions this place in “The Devil is an Ass,”
act. i. sc. 1.
“From thence shoot the bridge child, to _the Cranes
of the Vintry_,
And see there the gimblets how they make their entry!”
Stow says it was a place of some account for the
Costermongers who had warehouses there; and it appears
from Dekker’s “Belman of London,” sig. E 2, that the
beggars of his time called one of their places of
rendezvous by this name. [See Herbert’s edition of
Ames, p. 367-8.]
[131] _These_, first edition.
[132] _Vaunted_, second edition.
[133] _Increased is_, old editions.
[134] _Streams_, second edition.
[135] [_None such_, old editions. The meaning seems to
be, a perfect friend:--_’tis a world to seek one
such_.]
[136] Both the old copies have it “_my_ state to moan,”
which may be right, and the substitution [to _thy_,
which was made in the earlier editions] should not have
been made without notice.--_Collier._
[137] Whether I will or not. See Note 23 to “Grim the
Collier of Croydon.”
[138] _i.e._, It _rideth fast_ upon noon. The word is
used by Spenser and many of our ancient writers.
[139] With Pithias in his custody, and Stephano, as is
evident from the rest of the scene.--_Collier._
[140] Hinder him.
[141] _Doth_, both 4tos.
[142] _Doo_, first edition. The reading of both the old
copies in this place is
“_Golden time_ doo wear away.”
If it were worth while to remark the difference between
_doo_ and _doos_, it might have been as well not to
make the change in the text without notice, although it
is probably right.--_Collier._
[143] _i.e._, Thou wilt derive no _credit_ from
striking off a head so disadvantageously placed for the
purpose of decollation. _Honnetete_, French, anciently
signified _fame_ or _reputation_ in the dexterous
execution of any undertaking, whether honourable or the
contrary. _Honesty_ seems here to be used with the
French meaning.--_Steevens._ In this instance the
author appears to have had before him the speech which
Sir Thomas More made at his execution. Hall, in his
“Chronicle,” p. 226, says, “Also the hangman kneled
doune to him askyng him forgiuenes of his death (as the
maner is), to whom he sayd I forgeue thee, but I
promise thee that thou shalt neuer haue _honestie of
the strykyng of my head, my necke is so short_.”
[144] The two old copies have it,
“O happie kinges _within_ your courtes,” &c.--_Collier._
[145] _Two to_, second edition.
[146] _No reason_, first edition.
[147] This direction means that Dionysius, Damon,
Pithias, and all others go out, excepting
Stephano.--_Collier._
[148] [Old copies, _joy_.]
[149] [Freedom.]
APPIUS AND VIRGINIA.
[The reader does not probably require to be told that Chaucer has
taken up the story of the “Wicked Judge Appius” in the “Doctor of
Physic’s Tale,” and there is a drama by Webster on the same subject,
written many years before it was published in 1654, and included in
all the editions of that writer’s works.]
THE PLAYERS’ NAMES.[150]
VIRGINIUS.
MATER.
VIRGINA.
HAPHAZARD.
MANSIPULUS.
MANSIPULA.
SUBSERVUS.
APPIUS.
CONSCIENCE.
JUSTICE.
CLAUDIUS.
RUMOUR.
COMFORT.
REWARD.
DOCTRINA.
MEMORY.
MR COLLIER’S PREFACE.
The “Tragical Comedy of Appius and Virginia” deserves especial notice,
as probably [one of] our earliest extant dramatic productions publicly
represented, the plot of which is derived from history. Sackville’s
“Ferrex and Porrex” was acted before the Queen at Whitehall, and
Edwards’ “Damon and Pithias” also at Court, while the interlude of
“Thersites” merely adopts the name of a historical personage as an
indication of character, without reference to any events in which he
was concerned. “Appius and Virginia” is besides curious as holding a
middle station between the old moralities and historical plays [while
it still retains the allegorical character in some degree].
The performance was printed in 1575, but acted most likely as early as
1563. The initials R. B. on the title-page would apply to more than
one writer about that date. It is a work of great rarity, the only
known copy being in the British Museum. It would be singular therefore
that it has hitherto almost escaped notice, were it not evident that
there are so many plays in the Garrick Collection which have never been
read by the editors of Shakespeare. Mr Malone makes one reference to
“Appius and Virginia” in a note on “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” but he
misquotes both the words and the date.
There is internal evidence that it was publicly represented; and with
reference to this point, we find in one place a curious instance of
the ancient simplicity of the construction of an open stage, and of
the directions to the actors: “Here let Virginius go about the
scaffold.” This was the “scaffold hie” on which Herod, according to
Chaucer [“Miller’s Tale”] was accustomed to rant. Hawkins [Orig. Engl.
Dr. I. vii.] tells us that this temporary erection, in Parfre’s
“Candlemas Day,” was called “the _Stage_,” but he erred from
misquotation. In the following piece we are expressly informed that
_Haphazard_ was the _Vice_, regarding which character see
Douce’s “Illustr. of Shakesp.” ii., 304, &c.[151]
[In the former edition nearly all the corruptions of the old copy,
which was edited and printed with the grossest carelessness, were
allowed to remain. A few still stand which baffle our ingenuity.]
THE PROLOGUE.
Qui[152] cupis æthereas et summas scandere sedes,
Vim simul ac fraudem discute, care, tibi.
Fraus hic nulla juvat, non fortia facta juvabunt:
Sola Dei tua te trahet tersa fides.
Qui placet in terris, intactæ paludis instar,
Vivere Virginiam nitore, virgo, sequi:
Quos tulit et luctus, discas [et] gaudia magna,
Vitæ dum Parcæ scindere fila parent.
Huc ades, O virgo pariter moritura, sepulchro;
Sic ait, et facies pallida morte mutat.
Who doth desire the trump of fame to sound unto the skies,
Or else who seeks the holy place where mighty Jove he lies,
He must not by deceitful mind, nor yet by puissant strength,
But by the faith and sacred life he must it win at length,
And what she be that virgin’s life on earth would gladly lead
The floods that Virginia did fall I wish her to read:
Her dolor and her doleful loss, and yet her joys at death:
Come, Virgins pure, to grave with me, quoth she with latest breath.
You Lordlings, all that present be this Tragedy to hear,
Note well what zeal and love herein doth well appear:
And, ladies, you that linked are in wedlock bands for ever,
Do imitate the life you see, whose fame will perish never.
But Virgins you, O Ladies fair, for honour of your name.
Do lead the life apparent here to win immortal fame.
Let not the blinded God of Love, as poets term him so,
Nor Venus with her venery, nor lechers, cause of woe,
Your Virgins’ name to spot or file: dear dames, observe the
life[153]
That fair Virginia did observe, who rather wish[ed] the knife
Of father’s hand her life to end, than spot her chastity:
As she did wail, wail you her want, you maids of courtesy.
If any by example here would shun that great annoy.
Our Author would rejoice in heart, and we would leap for joy.
Would gods that our endeavours may as well to please your ears,
As is our author’s meaning here, then were we void of fears.
But patiently we wish you bear with this our first attempt,
Which surely will to do our best, then yield us no contempt:
And as you please in patient wise our first for to receive,
Ere long a better shall you win, if God do grant us leave.
APPIUS AND VIRGINIA.
_Enter_ VIRGINIUS.
Before the time that fortune’s lot did show each fate his doom,
Or bird or beast, or fish or fowl, on earth had taken room,
The gods they did decree to frame, the thing is ended now,
The heavens and the planets eke, and moist from air to bow.
Then framed they the man from mould and clay, and gave him time to
reign,
As seemed best their sacred minds to run and turn again,
They framed also, after this, out of his tender side
A piece of much formosity with him for to abide.
From infancy to lusty youth, and so to reign awhile,
And well to live, till Œtas he unwares do him beguile.
Therewith to see these gifts of them on grounded cave to view,
And daintily to deck them up, which after they may rue.
Therefore I thank the gods above that yield to me such fate
To link to me so just a spouse, and eke so loving mate.
By her I have a virgin pure, an imp of heavenly race
Both sober, meek and modest too, and virtuous in like case:
To temple will I wend therefore to yield the gods their praise,
For that they have thus luckily annexed to my days.
But stay: behold the peerless sparks, whereof my tongue did talk,
Approach in presence of my sight: to church I deem they walk.
But stay I will, and shroud me secretly awhile
To see what wit or counsel grave proceedeth from their style.
_Here entereth_ MATER _and_ VIRGINIA.
The pert and pricking prime of youth ought chastisement to have,
But thou, dear daughter, needest not, thyself doth show thee grave:
To see how Phœbus with his beams hath youth so much infested,[154]
It doth me woe to see them crave the thing should be detested.[155]
I draw to grave and nought can leave of thee to be desired,
As much as duty to thy dear, as reason hath required:
My sovereign[156] lord and friendly pheer[157] Virginius, father
thine,
To nurse as doth become a child, when bones are buried mine.
VIRGINIA.[158] Refell your mind of mourning plaints, dear mother,
rest your mind,
For though that duty dainty were, dame nature will me bind
So much to do; and further force of Gods that rule the skies,
The Globe,[159] and eke the Element, they would me else despise.
MATER. Then if the gods have granted thee such grace to love thy
sire,
When time shall choose thee out a make, be constant, I require:
Love, live, and like him well, before you grant him grace or faith,
So shall your love continue long, experience thus he saith.
VIRGINIA. I grant, dear Dame, I do agree,
When time shall so provide;
But tender youth and infancy
Doth rather wish me bide.
What, should I lose Diana’s gift
And eke the spring to shun,
By which Acteon fatally
His final race did run?
Should I as abject be esteemed
Throughout Parnassus hill,
Or should my virgin’s name be filed,
It were too great a skill.
But yet it is unspotted, lo,
Right well I do conceive,
When wedlock doth require the same,
With parents’ love and leave:
Yet obstinate I will not be,
But willing will me yield,
When you command, and not before,
Then duty shall me shield.
VIRGINIUS. Ah gods, that rule and reign in heavens, in seas, in
floods, in lands,
Two couples such, I surely deem, you never made with hands.
Ah gods, why do ye not compel each dame the like to show,
And every imp of her again her duty thus to know?
I cannot stay my tongue from talk, I needs must call my dear.
O spouse, well-met, and daughter too, what news? how do you cheer?
MATER. O dear Virginius, joy to me, O peerless spouse and mate,
In health, I praise the gods, I am, and joyful for thy state.
VIRGINIUS. Virginia, my daughter dear,
How standeth all with thee?
VIRGINIA. Like happy state, as mother told.
VIRGINIUS. Like joyful sight to me.[160]
By the gods, wife, I joy me that have such a treasure,
Such [a] gem and such [a] jewel, surmounting all measure:
Such a happy spouse, such a fortunate dame,
That no blot or stain can impair her fame,
Against such an imp and graff of my tree,
As clear doth surmount all others that be.
MATER. Nay, rather, dear spouse, how much is my case,
To be now advanced by such happy grace,
Doth daily distil: my husband so loving,
Granting and giving to all thing behoving,
Joying in me and in the fruit of my womb:
Who would not requite it, the gods yield their doom,
And if it be I, the gods do destroy me,
Rather than sin so sore should annoy me.
VIRGINIUS. O wife, refell thy wishing for woe,
Myself thy fau’t right well do know:
And rather I wish myself to be slain
Than thou or thy daughter ought woe should sustain.
VIRGINIA. O father, my comfort, O mother, my joy,
O dear and O sovereign, do cease to employ
Such dolorous talking, where dangers are none:
Where joys are attendant, what needeth this moan?
You matron, you spouse, you nurse and you wife,
You comfort, you only the sum of his life:
You husband, you [sweet]heart, you joy, and you pleasure,
You king and you kaiser too, her[161] only treasure:
You father, you mother, my life doth sustain,
I your babe, I your bliss, I your health am again.[162]
Forbear then your dolor, let mirth be frequented,
Let sorrow depart, and not be attempted.
VIRGINIUS. O wife, O spouse, I am content.
MATER. O husband.
VIRGINIA. O father, we do consent.
[_Sing here._
_All sing this._
_The trustiest treasure in earth,[163] as we see,
Is man, wife, and children in one to agree;
Then friendly and kindly let measure be mixed
With reason in season, where friendship is fixed._
VIRGINIUS [_sings_].
_When nature nursed first of all, young Alexander learned,
Of whom the poets mention make, in judgment so discerned,
O, what did want, that love procured, his vital end well near?
This is the hope, where parents love their children, do not fear_,
_All sing this._
_The trustiest treasure in earth, as we see
Is man, wife, and children, &c._
MATER [_sings_].
_What[164] time King Nisus would not let his daughter to be taught,
Of any one correcting hand to virtue[165] to be brought,
She, void of duty, cut his locks and golden tresses clear,
Whereby his realm was overrun, and she was paid her hire._
_All sing this._
_The trustiest treasure in earth, as we see,
Is man, wife, and children, &c._
VIRGINIA [_sings_].
_When Dædalus from Crete did fly
With Icarus his joy.
He nought regarding father’s words,
Did seek his own annoy:
He mounted up into the skies,
Whereat the gods did frown.
And Phœbus sore his wings did fry,
And headlong flings him down._
_All sing this._
_The trustiest treasure in earth, as we see,
Is man, wife, and children, &c._
VIRGINIUS [_sings again_].
_Then sith that partiality doth partly discord move,
And hatred oftentimes doth creep, where overmuch we love;
And if we love no whit at all, the faming trump will sound,
Come, wife, come, spouse, come, daughter dear, let measure bear the
ground._
_All sing this._
_The trustiest treasure in earth, as we see,
Is man, wife, and children in one to agree;
Then friendly and kindly let measure be mixed
With reason in season, where friendship is fixed._
_Exeunt._[166]
_Here entereth_ HAPHAZARD _the Vice_.
Very well, Sir, very well, Sir; it shall be done,
As fast as ever I can prepare:
Who dips[167] with the devil, he had need have a long spoon,
Or else full small will be his fare.
Yet a proper gentleman I am, of truth:
Yea, that may ye see by my long side-gown:
Yea, but what am I? a scholar, or a schoolmaster, or else some youth.
A lawyer, a student, or else a country clown:
A broom-man, a basket-maker, or a baker of pies,
A flesh or a fishmonger, or a sower of lies?
A louse or a louser, a leek or a lark,
A dreamer, a drumble,[168] a fire or a spark?
A caitiff, a cutthroat, a creeper in corners,
A hairbrain, a hangman, or a grafter of horners?
By the gods, I know not how best to devise,
My name or my property well to disguise.
A merchant, a May-pole, a man or a mackerel,
A crab or a crevis, a crane or a cockerel?
Most of all these my nature doth enjoy;
Sometime I advance them, sometime I destroy.
A maid or a mussel-boat, a wife or a wild duck?
As bold as blind bayard, as wise as a wood-cock.
As fine as fi’pence, as proud as a peacock,
As stout as a stockfish, as meek as a meacock.
As big as a beggar, as fat as a fool,
As true as a tinker, as rich as an owl:
With hey-trick, how troll, trey-trip and trey-trace,
Troll-hazard with a vengeance, I beshrew his knave’s face;
For tro and troll-hazard keep such a range,
That poor Haphazard was never so strange:
But yet, Haphazard, be of good cheer,
Go play and repast thee, man, be merry to-yere.[169]
Though victual be dainty and hard for to get,
Yet perhaps a number will die of the sweat:[170]
Though it be in hazard, yet happily I may,
Though money be lacking, yet one day go gay.
_Enter_ MANSIPULUS.
When, Maud, with a pestilence! what, mak’st thou no haste?
Of barberry[171] incense belike thou wouldest taste!
By the gods, I have stayed a full great while:
My lord he is near at hand by this at the church-stile,
And all for Maud mumble-turd, that mangpodding madge,
By the gods, if she hie not, I’ll give her my badge.
[_Enter_ MANSIPULA.]
MANSIPULA. What, drake-nosed drivel, begin you to flont?
I’ll fry you in a faggot-stick, by Cock, goodman lout.
You boaster, you bragger, you brawling knave,
I’ll pay thee thy forty-pence, thou brawling slave
My lady’s great business belike is at end,
When you, goodman dawcock, lust for to wend.
You cod’s-head, you crack-rope, you chattering pie,
Have with ye, have at ye, your manhood to try.
[_Beat and hustle him._]
HAPHAZARD. What! hold your hands, masters. What! fie for shame, fie!
What culling, what lulling, what stir have we here?
What tugging, what lugging, what pugging by the ear.
What, part and be friends, and end all this strife.
MANSIPULUS. Nay, rather I wish her the end of my knife.
MANSIPULA. Draw it, give me it, I will it receive,
So that for to place it I might have good leave:
By the gods, but for losing my land, life and living,
It should be so placed he should have ill-thriving.
MANSIPULUS. By the gods, how ungraciously the vixen she chatteth.
MANSIPULA. And he even as knavishly my answer he patteth.
HAPHAZARD. Here is nought else but railing of words out of reason,
Now tugging, now tattling, now muzzling in season.
For shame! be contented, and leave off this brawling.
MANSIPULUS. Content, for I shall repent it for this my
tongue-wralling.
MANSIPULA. Thou knave, but for thee, ere this time of day
My lady’s fair pew had been strawed[172] full gay,
With primroses, cowslips, and violets sweet,
With mints and with marigolds, and margoram meet,
Which now lieth uncleanly, and all ’long of thee:
That a shame recompense thee for hindring of me!
MANSIPULUS. Ah pretty prank-parnel, the cushion and book,
Whereon he should read and kneel are present, here look.
My lord, when he seeth me, he will cast such an eye,
As pinch will my heart near ready to die.
And thus wise and thus wise his hand will be walking,
With thou, precious knave: away; get thee packing.
[_Here let him [pretend to] fight._
HAPHAZARD. Nay then, by the mass, it’s time to be knacking:
No words at all, but to me he is pointing.
Nay, have at you again: you shall have your anointing.
MANSIPULA. Body of me, hold, if ye can!
What, will you kill such a proper man?
HAPHAZARD. Nay, sure I have done, when women do speak.
Why would the knave my patience so break?
MANSIPULUS. Well, I must be gone, there is no remedy,
For fear my tail makes buttons, by mine honesty.
HAPHAZARD. For reverence on your face, your nose and your chin.
By the gods, have ye heard such an unmannerly villain?
MANSIPULA. I never heard one so rank of rudeness.
MANSIPULUS. In faith, it is but for lack of lewdness.[173]
But here I burn day-light, while thus I am talking.
Away, come, Mansipula, let us be walking.
MANSIPULA. Contented, Mansipulus; have with thee with speed.
HAPHAZARD. Nay, stay yet, my friends, I am not agreed.
MANSIPULA. We dare not tarry, by God, we swear.
HAPHAZARD. Nay, tarry, take comfort with you for to bear:
It is but in hazard, and if you be miss’d,
And so it may happen you feel not his fist.
Perhaps he is stay’d by talk with some friend:
It is but in hazard: then sing, ere you wend.
Let hope be your helper, your care to defend.
MANSIPULUS. By hap or by hazard we sing, ere we cry;
Then sing, let us say so, let sorrow go by.
MANSIPULA. We can be but beaten, that is the worst.
_Enter_ SUBSERVUS.
What how, Mansipulus! thou knave, art thou curs’d?
My lord standeth talking, and I gape for thee.
Come away, with a wannion! run, haste and hie.
MANSIPULUS. Nay, hearken, Subservus, stay, I pray thee:
Let us have a song, and then have with thee.
SUBSERVUS. Content, if thou hie thee.
_Sing here all._
_Hope so, and hap so, in hazard of threat’ning,
The worst that can hap, lo, in end is but beating._
MANSIPULUS [_sings_].
_What, if my lording do chance for to miss me,
The worst that can happen is, cudgel will kiss me:
In such kind of sweetness, I swear by God’s mother,
It will please me better, it were on some other._
[ALL.] _With thwick thwack, with thump thump,
With bobbing and bum,
Our side-saddle shoulders shall shield that doth come.
Hope so, and hap so, in hazard, &c._
MANSIPULA [_sings_].
_If[174] case that my lady do threaten my case,
No cause to contrary, but bear her a space,
Until she draw home, lo, where so she will use me,
As Doctors doth doubt it, how I should excuse me._
[ALL.] _With thwick thwack, with thump thump,
With bobbing and bum,
Our side-saddle shoulders shall shield that doth come.
Hope so, and hap so, in hazard, &c._
SUBSERVUS [_sings_].
_What, if your company cause me have woe,
I mind not companions so soon to forego.
Let hope hold the helmet, till brunt it be past,
For blows are but buffets and words but a blast._
[ALL.] _With thwick thwack, with thump thump,
With bobbing and bum,
Our side-saddle shoulders shall shield that doth come.
Hope so, and hap so, in hazard, &c._
HAPHAZARD [_sings_].
_Then let us be merry, it is but by hap,
A hazardly chance may harbour a clap:
Bestir ye, be merry, be glad and be joying,
For blows are but buffets and small time annoying._
[ALL.] _With thwick thwack, with thump thump,
With bobbing and bum,
Our side-saddle shoulders shall shield that doth come.
Hope so, and hap so, in hazard, &c._
[_The end of the song._
_All speaketh this._
Haphazard, farewell: the gods do thank thee.
[_Exeunt._
HAPHAZARD. Farewell, my friends, farewell, go prank ye.
By the gods, Haphazard, these men have tried thee:
Who said thou wast no man, sure they belied thee.
By Jove, master merchant, by sea or by land,
Would get but small argent, if I did not stand
His very good master, I may say to you,
When he hazards in hope what hap will ensue.
In court I am no man:--by Cock, sir, ye lie--
A ploughman, perhaps, or ere that he die,
May hap be a gentleman, a courtier or captain;
And hap may so hazard he may go begging:
Perhaps that a gentleman, heir to great land,
Which selleth his living for money in hand,
In hazard it is the buying of more:
Perhaps he may ride, when spent is his store.
Hap may so hazard, the moon may so change,
That men may be masters, and wives will not range:
But in hazard it is in many a grange,
Lest wives wear the cod-piece, and maidens go strange.[175]
As peacocks sit perking by chance in the plumtree;
So maids would be masters by the guise of this country.
Haphazard each state full well that he marks,
If hap the sky fall, we may hap to have larks.
Well, fare ye well now for better or worse:
Put hands to your pockets, have mind to your purse.
[_Exit._
_Enter_ JUDGE APPIUS.
The furrowed face of fortune’s force my pinching pain doth move:
I, settled ruler of my realm, enforced am to love.
Judge Appius I, the princeliest judge that reigneth under sun,
And have been so esteemed long, but now my force is none:
I rule no more, but ruled am; I do not judge but am judged;
By beauty of Virginia my wisdom all is trudged.
O peerless dame, O passing piece, O face of such a feature,
That never erst with beauty such matched was by nature.
O fond Apelles, prattling fool, why boasteth thou so much,
The famous’t piece thou mad’st in Greece, whose lineaments were
such?
Or why didst thou, deceived man, for beauty of thy work,
In such a sort with fond desire, where no kind life did lurk,
With raging fits, thou fool, run mad, O fond Pigmalion?
Yet sure, if that thou sawest my dear, the like thou could’st make
none:
Then what may I? O gods above, bend down to hear my cry,
As once ye[176] did to Salmacis, in pond hard Lycia by.
O, that Virginia were in case as sometime Salmacis,
And in Hermophroditus stead myself might seek my bliss!
Ah gods, would I unfold her arms complecting of my neck?
Or would I hurt her nimble hand, or yield her such a check?
Would I gainsay her tender skin to bathe, where I do wash,
Or else refuse her soft, sweet lips to touch my naked flesh?
Nay! O, the gods do know my mind, I rather would require
To sue, to serve, to crouch, to kneel, to crave for my desire.
But out, ye gods! ye bend your brows, and frown to see me fare;
Ye do not force my fickle fate, ye do not weigh my care.
Unrighteous and unequal gods, unjust and eke unsure,
Woe worth the time ye made me live to see this hapless hour!
Did Iphis hang himself for love of lady not so fair?
Or else did Jove the cloudy mists bend down from lightsome air?
Or as the poets mention make of Inach’s daughter meek,
For love did he, too, make a cow, whom Inach long did seek?
Is love so great to cause the quick to enter into hell,
As stout Orpheus did attempt, as histories do tell?
Then what is it that love cannot? why, love did pierce the skies:
Why, Pheb and famous Mercury with love had blinded eyes.
But I, a judge, of grounded years, shall reap to me such name,
As shall resound dishonour great with trump of careless fame.
O, that my years were youthful yet, or that I were unwedded!
_Here entereth_ HAPHAZARD.
Why, cease, Sir Knight, for why perhaps of you she shall be bedded:
For follow my counsel, so may you me please,
That of careful resurging your heart shall have ease.
APPIUS. O thundering gods, that threaten ire
And plague for each offence,
Yourselves, I deem, would counsel crave
In this so fit pretence:
And eke your nimble stretched arms
With great rewards would fly,
To purchase fair Virginia,
So dear a wight, to me.
And, friend, I swear by Jupiter,
And eke by Juno’s seat,
And eke by all the mysteries,
Whereon thou canst entreat,
Thou shalt possess and have,
I will thee grant and give,
The greatest part of all my realm,
For aye thee to relieve.
HAPHAZARD. Well then, this is my counsel, thus standeth the case;
Perhaps such a fetch as may please your grace:
There is no more ways,[177] but hap or hap not,
Either hap or else hapless, to knit up the knot:
And if you will hazard to venter what falls,
Perhaps that Haphazard will end all your thralls.
APPIUS. I mean so, I will so, if thou do persuade me,
To hap or to hazard what thing shall invade me?
I King and I Kaiser, I rule and overwhelm;
I do what it please me within this my realm.
Wherefore in thy judgment see that thou do enter:
Hap life or hap death, I surely will venter.
HAPHAZARD. Then this and in this sort standeth the matter:
What need many words, unless I should flatter?
Full many there be will hazard their life,
Happ’ly to ease your grace of all your strife.
Of this kind of conspiracy now let us common.[178]
Some man Virginius before you must summon,
And say that Virginia is none of his daughter,
But that Virginius by night away caught her:
Then charge you the father his daughter to bring;
Then do you detain her, till proved be the thing:
Which well you may win her, she present in house.
It is but haphazard, a man or a mouse.
APPIUS. I find it, I mind it, I swear that I will,
Though shame or defame do happen, no skill.[179]
But out, I am wounded: how am
I divided! [Sidebar: Here let him make as
Two states of my life from me though he went out, and let
are now glided; Conscience and Justice come out
For Conscience he pricketh me after[180] him, and let
contemned, Conscience hold in his hand a
And Justice saith, judgment lamp burning, and let Justice have
would have me condemned: a sword, and hold it before
Conscience saith, cruelty sure Appius’ breast.]
will detest me;
And Justice saith, death in th’ end will molest me:
And both in one sudden me-thinks they do cry,
That fire eternal my soul shall destroy.
HAPHAZARD. Why, these are but thoughts, man: why, fie for shame,
fie!
For Conscience was careless and sailing by seas,
Was drowned in a basket and had a disease,
Sore moved for pity, when he would grant none,
For being hard-hearted was turned to a stone:
And sailing by Sandwich he sank for his sin.
Then care not for conscience the worth of a pin.
And judgment judge[d] Justice to have a reward
For judging still justly, but all now is marr’d;
For gifts they are given where judgment is none.
Thus judgment and justice a wrong way hath gone.
Then care not for Conscience the worth of a fable;
Justice is no man, nor nought to do able.
APPIUS. And sayest thou so, my ’sured friend? then hap as hap shall
it:
Let Conscience grope and judgment crave, I will not shrink one whit.
I will persever in my thought: I will deflower her youth;
I will not sure reverted be, my heart shall have no ruth.
Come on, proceed, and wait on me, I will, hap woe or wealth:
Hap blunt, hap sharp, hap life, hap death: th[r]ough Haphazard be
of health.
HAPHAZARD. At hand (quoth pick-purse) here ready am I.
See well to the cut-purse: be ruled by me.
[_Exeunt._
_Enter_ CONSCIENCE.
CONSCIENCE. O clear unspotted gifts of Jove,
How haps thou art refused?
O Conscience clear, what cruel mind
Thy truth hath thus misused?
I spotted am by wilful will,
By lawless love and lust,
By dreadful danger of the life,
By faith that is unjust,
JUSTICE. Ah gift of Jove, Ah Fortune’s face,
Ah state of steady life!
I Justice am, and prince of peers,
The end of laws and strife:
A guider of the common weal,
A guardian[181] to the poor;
And yet hath filthy lust suppress’d
My virtues in one hour.
Well, well, this is the most to trust,
In end we shall aspire
To see the end of these our foes
With sword and eke with fire.
CONSCIENCE. O help, ye gods, we members require.
[_Exeunt._
_Enter_ HAPHAZARD.
When gain is no grandsire,[182]
And gauds nought set by;
Nor puddings nor pie-meat
Poor knaves will come nigh,
Then hap and Haphazard
Shall have a new coat.
And so it may happen
To cut covetousness’ throat.
Yea, then shall Judge Appius
Virginia obtain,
And geese shall crack mussels
Perhaps in the rain:
Larks shall be leverets,
And skip to and fro;
And churls shall be cods-heads,
Perhaps and also.
But peace, for man’s body!
Haphazard be mum!
Fie, prattling noddy,
Judge Appius is come.
_Here entereth_ JUDGE APPIUS _and_ CLAUDIUS.
The furies fell of Limbo lake
My princely days do short:
All drown’d in deadly ways I live,
That once did joy in sport.
I live and languish in my life,
As doth the wounded deer.
I thirst, I crave, I call and cry.
And yet am nought the near:[183]
And yet I have that me so match
Within the realm of mine:
But (Tantalus amids my care)
I hunger--starve, and pine.
As Sisyphus, I roll the stone
In vain to top of hill,
That ever more uncertainly
Revolving slideth still.
O, if to her ’twere as to me,[184]
What labours would I fly,
What raging seas would I not plough
To her commodity?
But out alas, I doubt it sore,
Lest drowsy Morpheus[185]
His slumb’ry kingdoms planted hath
With dews unbeauteous.[186]
O gods above that rule the skies:
Ye babes that brag in bliss:
Ye goddesses, ye Graces, you,
What burning brunt is this?
Bend down your ire, destroy me quick.
Or else to grant me grace,
No more, but that my burning breast
Virginia may embrace.[187]
If case your ears be dead and deaf,
The fiend and spirits below,
You careless carls of Limbo lake,
Your forced mights do show.
Thou caitif king of darksome dens,
Thou Pluto, plagued knave,
Send forth thy sacred vengeance straight,
Consume them to the grave,
That will not aid my case--
CLAUDIUS. Content, and if it like your grace,
I will attempt the deed:
I summon will Virginius
Before your seat with speed.
HAPHAZARD.Do so, my lord: be you not afraid,
And so you may happen to hazard the maid:
It is but in hazard and may come by hap:
Win her or lose her, try you the trap.
APPIUS. By the gods, I consent to thee, Claudius, now;
Prepare thee in haste Virginius unto.
Charge him, command him, upon his allegiance,
With all kind of speed to yield his obeisance,
Before my seat in my consistory,
_Subpœnâ_ of land, life and treasury.
No let, no stay, nor ought perturbance
Shall cause me to omit the furtherance
Of this my weighty charge.
[_Here let_ CLAUDIUS _go out with_ HAPHAZARD.
APPIUS. Well, now I range at large my will for to express;
For look, how Tarquin Lucrece fair by force did once oppress,
Even so will I Virginia use.
[_Here let_ CONSCIENCE _speak within_.
Judge Appius, prince, O stay, refuse;
Be ruled by thy friend!
What bloody death with open shame
Did Tarquin gain in end?
APPIUS. Whence does this pinching sound descend?
CONSCIENCE. From contrite Conscience, pricked on
By member of thy life,
Inforced for to cry and call,
And all to end our strife.
APPIUS. Who art thou then? declare; be brief!
CONSCIENCE. Not flesh nor filthy lust I am,
But secret Conscience I,
Compell’d to cry with trembling soul,
At point near-hand to die.
APPIUS. Why, no disease hath me approach’d, no grief doth make me
grudge,
But want of fair Virginia, whose beauty is my judge:
By her I live, by her I die, for her I joy or woe,
For her my soul doth sink or swim, for her I swear I go.
CONSCIENCE. Ah gods, what wits doth reign! and yet to you unknowen,
I die the death, and soul doth sink this filthy flesh hath sowen.
APPIUS. I force it not; I will attempt: I stay for Claudius here;
Yet will I go to meet with him, to know what news and cheer.
_Here entereth_ HAPHAZARD.
Haste for a hangman in hazard of hemp:
Run for a ridduck, there is no such imp.
Claudius is knocking with hammer and stone
At Virginius’ gate, as hard as he can lay on.
By the gods, my masters, Haphazard is hardy,
For he will run rashly, be they never so many:
Yea, he will sing sow’s snout, and snap with the best.
But peace! who comes yonder, that jolly good guest?
_Here enter with a song._[188]
_When men will seem misdoubtfully
Without an why to call and cry,
And fearing with temerity its jeopardy of liberty,
We wish him to take to cheer his heart Haphazard,
Bold [as] blind bayard.
A fig for his uncourtesy
That seeks to shun good company._
MANSIPULUS. _What if case that cruelty should bustle me and jostle me,_
_And Holywand should tickle me for keeping of good company,
I’ll follow, by my honesty, hap Haphazard, bold [as] blind bayard.
A fig for his uncourtesy that seeks to shun good company._
_All sing this._
_When men will seem misdoubtfully
Without an why to call and cry, &c._
MANSIPULA. _Never was that mistress so furious nor curious,
Nor yet her blows so boisterous, nor roisterous, nor dolorous,
But sure I would venture,[189] hap Haphazard, bold [as] blind bayard.
A fig for his uncourtesy that seeks to shun good company._
_All sing this._
_When men will seem misdoubtfully
Without an why to call and cry, &c._
HAPHAZARD. _Then wend ye on and follow me, Mansipula, Mansipula,
Let croping cares be cast away, come follow me, come follow me.
Subservus is a jolly lout, brace Haphazard, bold [as] blind bayard.
A fig for his uncourtesy that seeks to shun good company._
_All sing this._
_When men will seem misdoubtfully
Without an why to call and cry, &c._
[_The end of the song._
_Here_ HAPHAZARD _speaketh_.
Ay, by the gods, my masters, I told you plain,
Who companies with me will desire me again.
But how did ye speed, I pray ye show me?
Was all well agreed? did nobody blow ye?
MANSIPULUS. Mass, sir, hap did so happen, that my lord and master
Stayed in beholding and viewing the pasture,
Which when I perceived, what excuse did I make?
I came in the crossway on the nearside the Forlake,
Hard by Hodge’s half acre, at Gaffer Miller’s stile,
The next way round about, by the space of a mile.
And at Simkin’s side-ridge my lord stood talking,
And angerly to me quoth he, Where hast thou been walking?
Without any staggering, I had ready my lie:
Out at bridge-meadow and at Benol’s lease (quoth I).
Your fatlings are feeding well, sir, the gods be praised,
A goodly loume of beef on them is already raised.
Then out steps Francis Fabulator, that was never my friend:
How pass’d you Carter’s hay-rick at Long Meadow end?
There might one (quoth he) within this few days
With a cast-net had given four knaves great essays,
Under the hedge with a pair of new cards both rip and fledge.
Is it true? quoth my Lord: will this gear never be left?
This causes swearing and staring, prowling and theft.
Well (quoth my lord) take heed, lest I find it,
And so pass’d his way, and did no more mind it.
HAPHAZARD. By the gods, that was sport, yea, and sport alone.
MANSIPULA. Yea; but I was in a worse case, by Saint John.
My lady in church was set full devout,
And hearing my coming she turned about;
But as soon as I heard her snappishly sound,
In this sort I crouched me down to the ground,
And mannerly made,[190] as though I were sad.[191]
As soon as the pew then strawed I had,
She gave me a wink and frowardly frown,
Whereby I do judge she would cudgel my gown.
Then I did devise a pretty fine prank,
A mean whereby to pick me a thank,
Of Margery Mildon, the maid of the milk-house,
And Stainer the stutter,[192] the guid[193] of the storehouse.
Then was my lady’s anger well gone,
And will be so still, and the truth be not known.
HAPHAZARD. By ’r Lady barefoot, this bakes trimly.
SUBSERVUS. Nay, but I escaped more finely;
For I under this hedge one while did stay.
Then in this bush, then in that way:
Then slip I behind them among all the rest,
And seemed to commune, too, of things with the best:
But so it did happen, that all things were well,
But hazard it is, lest time will truth tell.
HAPHAZARD. Tut, tut, that was but by hap, and if it be so:
Well, sith it was in hazard, then let it go.
SUBSERVUS. Content, by my honesty: then farewell all woe.
MANSIPULUS. Come out, dog, ye speak happily, of truth, if it be so.
ALL SPEAK. Now, Master Haphazard, fare you well for a season.
HAPHAZARD. Let my counsel at no time with you lie geason.[194]
ALL SPEAKETH. No, by the gods, he sure not so.
HAPHAZARD. Well, sith here is no company, have with ye to Jericho.
[_Exit_.
_Enter_ VIRGINIUS.
What! so the gods they have decreed to work and do by me?
I marvel why Judge Appius he such greetings lets me see:
I served have his seat and state, I have maintained his weal,
I have suppress’d the rebels stout, I bear to him such zeal;
And now he sends to me such charge upon my life and lands
Without demur or further pause, or ere ought thing[195] be scann’d,
That I in haste with posting speed to court I do repair,
To answer that alleged is before his judgment-chair.
Some histories they do express, when such mishaps do fall,
They should have taken many a one; I have not one but all.
My jewels sometime precious do fade and bear no hue,
My senses they do shun their course, my lights do burn as blue;
My willing wits[196] are waxed slow, that once were swift in speed;
My heart it throbs in wonderous sort, my nose doth often bleed:
My dreadful dreams do draw my woe, and hateful hazard hale.[197]
These tokens of evil hap, this is the old wive’s tale.
But yet, O thou Virginius, whose hoary hairs are old,
Did’st treason never yet commit, of this thou may’st be bold.
In Mars his games, in martial feats thou wast his only aid.
The huge Charibd his hazards[198] thou for him hast[199] oft
assail’d:
Was Scylla’s force by thee oft shunn’d, or yet Lady Circe’s[200]
land,
Pasiphae’s[201] child, the[202] Minotaur, did cause thee ever stand?
To pleasure him, to serve thy liege,[203] to keep all things
upright,
Thou God above, then what is it that yieldeth me this spite?
Sith nothing needs misdoubted be, where grounded cause is none,
I enter will Judge Appius’ gate, rejecting care and moan.
But stay, Virginius: lo, thy prince doth enter into place,
O sovereign lord and rightful judge, the gods do save thy grace.
_Here entereth_ JUDGE APPIUS _and_ CLAUDIUS.
With tender heart, Virginius, thou welcome art to me.
I sorry am to utter out the things I hear of thee;
For Claudius, a subject here, a man of mickle fame,
Appealeth thee before my court in deed of open shame.
And though indeed I love thee so as thy deserts desire,
Yet not so but I must judgment give, as justice doth require.
VIRGINIUS. My lord, and reason good it is: your servant doth request
No partial hand to aid his cause, no partial mind or breast.
If ought I have offended you, your court or eke your crown,
From lofty top of turret high precipitate me down.
If treason none by me be done, or any fault committed.
Let my accusers bear the blame, and let me be remitted.
APPIUS. Good reason, too, Virginius. Come, Claudius, show thy mind:
Let justice hear, if judgment may Virginius guilty find.
CLAUDIUS. Thou sovereign lord and rightful judge, this[204] standeth
now the case.
In tender youth, not long agone, near sixteen years of space,
Virginius a thrall of mine, a child and infant young,
From me did take by subtle means, and keeps by arm full strong:
And here before your grace I crave, that justice be extended,
That I may have my thrall again, and faults may be amended.
VIRGINIUS. Ah gods, that guide the globe above, what forged tales I
hear!
O Judge Appius, bend your ears, while this my crime I clear.
She is my child, and of my wife her tender corpse did spring:
Let all the country where I dwell bear witness of the thing.
[APPIUS _and_ CLAUDIUS _go forth, but_
APPIUS _speaketh this_.
Nay, by the gods, not so, my friend, I do not so decree:
I charge thee here in pain of death thou bring the maid to me.
In chamber close, in prison sound, she secret shall abide,
And no kind of wight shall talk with her, until the truth be tried.
This do I charge, this I command: in pain of death, let see,
Without any let that she be brought as prisoner unto me.
[_Exit_.
[_Here let Virginius go about the scaffold._
Ah fickle fall, unhappy doom, O most uncertain fate,[205]
That ever chance so churlishly, that never stay’d in state.
What judge is this? what cruel wretch? what faith doth Claudius find?
The gods do recompense with shame his false and faithless mind!
Well, home I must, no remedy; where shall my soaking tears.
Augment my woes, decrease my joys, while death do rid my fears.
_Here entereth_ RUMOUR.
Come, Ventus, come: blow forth thy blast:
Prince Eol, listen well:
The filthiest fact that ever was
I, Rumour, now shall tell.
You gods, bend down to hear my cry,
Revengement duly show,
Thy Rumour craves, bid[206] Claudius stay,[207]
And bring Judge Appius low.
That wicked man, that fleshly judge,
Hath hired Claudius
To claim a child, the only heir
Of old Virginius:
A virgin pure, a queen in life,
Whose state may be deplored;
For why the queen of chaste life
Is like to be deflow’red
By false Judge Appius, cruel wretch,
Who straitly hath commanded,
That she to keeping his be brought:
Prince Pluto this demanded.
To skies I fly, to blaze abroad
The tromp of deep defame.
Revenge, you gods, this Rumour craves,
This blood and bloody shame.
Have through the air! give place, you airs,
This is my duty done.
The gods confound such lecherers!
Lo, Rumour, this I run.
VIRGINIUS. O man, O mould, O muck, O clay! O hell, O hellish hound,
O false Judge Appius, rabbling[208] wretch, is this thy treason
found?
Woe worth the man that gave the seed, whereby ye first did spring!
Woe worth the womb that bare the babe to mean this bloody thing!
Woe worth the paps that gave thee suck, woe worth the fosters eke:
Woe worth all such as ever did thy health or liking seek!
O, that these gravèd hairs[209] of mine were covered in the clay!
_Here entereth_ VIRGINIA.
Let patience, dear father mine, your rigour something stay:
Why do you wail in such a sort? why do you weep and moan?
VIRGINIUS. O daughter dear and only heir, my life is near begone,
And all for love of thee.
VIRGINIA. Ah, gods, how may this be?
Dear father, do withdraw your dread, and let me know the cause:
Myself will aid with life or death without demur or pause.
Then tender your child that craveth this bound.[210]
VIRGINIUS. O, hearken, dear daughter, attend thou my sound.
Judge Appius, prick’d forth with filthy desire,
Thy person as leman doth greatly require;
And no kind of entreaty, no fear, nor no shame,
Will he hear alleged, defending[211] the same.
And straight without staying, in pain of my death,
I must bring thee thither. Wherefore stop my breath.
O sisters; I search, I seek, and I crave
No more at your hands but death for to have,
Rather than see my daughter deflow’red,
Or else in ill sort so wildly devour’d.
VIRGINIA. O father, O friendship, O fatherly favour,
Whose dulcet words so sweetly do savour,
On knees I beseech thee to grant my request,
In all things according as liketh thee best.
Thou knowest, O my father, if I be once spotted,
My name and my kindred then forth will be blotted:
And if thou, my father, should die for my cause,
The world would accompt me guilty in cause.
Then rather, dear father, if it be thy pleasure,
Grant me the death; then keep I my treasure,
My lamp, my light, my life undefiled,
And so may Judge Appius of [my] flesh be beguiled.
This upon my knees with humble behest,
Grant me, O father, my instant request.
VIRGINIUS. Then rise up, my daughter: my answer do note
From mouth of thy father, whose eyes do now float.
O daughter, O dear, O darling, O dame,
Dispatch me, I pray thee, regard not my name:
But yet as thou sayest, sith remedy none,
But leman thou must be, if I were gone,
And better it is to die with good fame,
Than longer to live to reap us but shame:
But if thou do die no doubt is at all,
But presently after myself follow shall,
Then end without shame, so let us persever,
With trump of good fame, so die shall we never.
[_Virginia here kneeleth._
Then, tender arms, complect the neck: do dry thy father’s tears,
You nimble hands, for woe whereof my loving heart it wears.
VIRGINIA. O father mine, refrain no whit your sharped knife to take
From gilded[212] sheath my shame to end, and body dead to make.
Let not the shameless bloody judge defile my virgin’s life;
Do take my head, and send it him upon your bloody knife:
Bid him imbrue his bloody hands in guiltless blood of me:
I virgin die, he lecher lives; he was my end, you see.
No more delays--lo, kiss me first, then stretch your strongest arm:
Do rid my woe, increase my joy, do ease your child of harm.
VIRGINIUS. O weary wits of woe or wealth, O feeble aged man,
How can thy arm give such a blow! thy death I wish thee then!
But sith that shame with endless trump will sound, if case thy joy
By[213] means of false Judge Appius be, myself will thee destroy.
Forgive me, babe, this bloody deed, and meekly take thy end.
[_Here let him proffer a blow_.
VIRGINIA. The gods forgive thee, father dear! farewell, thy blow do
bend.
Yet stay a while, O father dear, for flesh to death is frail:
Let first my wimple bind my eyes, and then thy blow assail.
Now, father, work thy will on me, that life I may enjoy.
[_Here tie a handkercher about her eyes, and
then strike off her head._
Now stretch thy hand, Virginius, that loth would flesh destroy.
O cruel hands, O[214] bloody knife, O man, what hast thou done?
Thy daughter dear and only heir her vital end hath won.
Come, fatal blade, make like despatch: come, Atropos: come, aid![215]
Strike home, thou careless arm, with speed; of death be not afraid.
_Here entereth_ COMFORT.
O noble knight, Virginius, do stay, be not dismay’d:
I, curing Comfort, present am, your dolor [for] to aid.
VIRGINIUS. Sith joy is gone, sith life is dead,
What comfort can there be?
No more! there is but deep despair,
And deadly death to me.
COMFORT. No more, Sir Knight, but take the head, and wend a while
with me:
It shall be sent to court, for that Judge Appius may it see.
In recompense of lecher’s lust this present let him have,
And stay your corpse for certain space in coping from the grave:
So shall you see the end of him and all his whole concent.[216]
This will be comfort to your heart: Virginius, be content.
VIRGINIUS. Of truth, even so, for comfort else I know right well is
none,
Wherefore I do consent with you: come on, let us be gone.
But messenger myself will be, myself will give the gift.
Come on, good Comfort, wend we then; there is no other shift.
[_Exeunt._
_Here entereth_ JUDGE APPIUS.
Well, hap as hap can, hap or no,
In hazard it is, but let that go.
I will, what so happen, pursue on still:
Why, none there is living can let me my will.
I will have Virginia; I will her deflow’r,
Else rigorous sword her heart shall devour.
_Here entereth_ HAPHAZARD.
I came from Caleco even the same hour,
And Hap was hired to hackney in hempstrid:
In hazard he was of riding on beamstrid.
Then, crow crop on tree-top, hoist up the sail,
Then groaned their necks by the weight of their tail:
Then did Carnifex put these three together,
Paid them their passport for clust’ring thither.
APPIUS. Why, how now, Haphazard, of what dost thou speak?
Methinks in mad sort thy talk thou dost break.
Those three words, chop all in one,
Is Carnifex: that signifieth hangman.
Peace! no such words before me do utter.
HAPHAZARD. Nay, I lie as still as a cat in a gutter.
Go to, Judge Appius; go forward, good prince:
Perhaps ye may have that the which will not blince.
APPIUS. What is the man that liveth now so near to door of death,
As I for lust of lady fair, whose lack will stop my breath?
But long I shall not want her sight, I stay her coming here.
O lucky light! lo, present here her father doth appear.
O, how I joy! yet brag thou not; dame beauty bides behind.
Virginius, where is the maid? how haps thou break my mind?
_Here entereth_ VIRGINIUS [_bearing Virginia’s head_.]
Ah wicked judge, the virgin chaste
Hath sent her beauteous face,
In recompense of lecher gain,
To thee, so void of grace.
She bids thee imbrue thy bloody hands
And filthy lecherous mind
With Venus’ damsels, void of shame,
Where such thou haps to find.
But thou as with Diana’s imps
Shalt never be acquainted:
They rather wish the naked knife
Than virgin’s life attainted.
And in[217] just proof whereof
Behold Virginia’s head:
She sought her fame, thou sought her shame:
This arm hath smit her dead.
APPIUS. O curst and cruel cankered churl, O carl unnatural;
Which hast the seed of thine own loin[218] thrust forth to funeral!
Ye gods, bend down your ire, do plague him for his deed,
You sprites below, you hellish hounds, do give him gall for meed.
Myself will see his latter end; I judge him to the death.
Like death that fair Virginia took, the like shall stop his breath;
The flashy[219] fiends of Limbo lake his ghost do so turmoil,
That he have need of Charon’s help for all his filthy toil.
Come, Justice, then; come on, Reward; come, aid me in my need.
Thou wicked knight, shalt slaughtered[220] be with self-same knife
with speed.
VIRGINIUS. Sith she a virgin pure and chaste in heaven leads her
life,
Content I am to die with her, and die upon her knife.
APPIUS. Come, Justice, then: come on, Reward, when Judgment now doth
call.
_Here entereth_ JUSTICE _and_ REWARD, _and they both speak this_.
We both are ready here at hand to work thy fatal fall.
JUSTICE [_speaketh_]. O gorgon judge, what lawless life hast thou
most wicked led!
Thy soaking sin hath sunk thy soul, thy virtues all are fled.
Thou chaste and undefiled life did seek for to have spotted,
And thy reward is ready here, by Justice now allotted.
REWARD. Thy just reward is deadly death; wherefore come, wend away:
To death I straight will do thy corpse; then lust shall have his prey.
Virginius, thou woful knight, come near and take thy foe.
In prison [do] thou make him fast: no more let him do so.
Let Claudius for tyranny be hanged on a tree.
VIRGINIUS. Ah, right Reward: the gods be bless’d, this day I chance
to see!
_Enter_ HAPHAZARD.
HAPHAZARD. Why, how now, my lord Appius, what cheer?
Why, where is my reward for this gear?
Why did I ride, run, and revel,
And for all my jaunting now
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