← catalogue

A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 06

by unknown · English · Gutenberg #9848 · 625,024 chars · public domain (US)

The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 06
    
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 06

Compiler: Robert Dodsley

Editor: William Carew Hazlitt


        
Release date: February 1, 2006 [eBook #9848]
                Most recently updated: December 26, 2020

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/9848

Credits: Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Tapio Riikonen and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SELECT COLLECTION OF OLD ENGLISH PLAYS, VOLUME 06 ***




Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Tapio Riikonen and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team.










A SELECT COLLECTION OF OLD ENGLISH PLAYS, VOL. VI

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.


1874-1876



CONTENTS

The Conflict of Conscience
The rare Triumphs of Love and Fortune
The three Ladies of London
The three Ladies and three Lords of London
A Knack to know a Knave



FIVE PLAYS.

[These five dramas were originally edited for the Roxburghe Club in 1851
by Mr J. Payne Collier, and are now incorporated with the present
Collection precisely as they stand in the Roxburghe Club volume, with Mr
Collier's kind permission, his general introduction included. The only
difference is that the notes, instead of occurring at the end of each
Play, are placed at the foot of the page.]



[MR COLLIER'S GENERAL INTRODUCTION.]

Four of the five ensuing Plays belong to a peculiar class of our early
dramatic performances never yet especially noticed, nor sufficiently
illustrated.

Many specimens have of late years been printed, and reprinted, of
Miracle-plays, of Moral-plays, and of productions written in the most
matured period of our dramatic literature; but little or nothing has
been done to afford information respecting a species of
stage-representation which constitutes a link between Moral-plays on the
one hand, and Tragedy and Comedy on the other, as Tragedy and Comedy
existed at the period when Shakespeare and his contemporaries were
writers for various theatres in the metropolis. This deficiency it has
been our main object to supply.

The four pieces to which we refer are neither plays which enforce a
moral lesson by means of abstract impersonations only, nor are they
dramas which profess to consist merely of scenes drawn from life,
represented by real characters: they may be said to form a class by
themselves, where characters both abstract and individual are employed
in the same performance. The most remarkable drama of this intermediate
kind, and the only one to which particular attention has been directed
in modern times, is called "The Tragical Comedy of Appius and Virginia,"
which originally came out in 1575, and is reprinted in the [former and
present] edition of "Dodsley's Old Plays" from the sole existing
copy.[1] In it an important historical event is commemorated, and the
hero, heroine, and some other principal agents are known characters; but
they are mixed up with allegorical abstractions, and the representatives
of moral qualities, while the Vice of the older stage is introduced, for
the sake of diversifying the representation, and amusing popular
audiences. The plot of this production has no religious application, and
it was not written with any avowed moral purpose. In this respect, as
well as in some other peculiarities, it is unlike the drama which stands
first in the following sheets. Still, the general character is the same
in both: in both we have a mixture of fact and fable, of reality and
allegory, of individuality and abstraction, with the addition, in the
latter case, of the enforcement of a lesson, for the instruction of
those to whom it was addressed.

"The Conflict of Conscience," by Nathaniel Woodes, "Minister in
Norwich," was originally printed in 1581, 4to, and it is reprinted in
our volume from a copy in the possession of the Editor, which has the
advantage of a Prologue. This introductory address is wanting in the
exemplar in the British Museum; but it unquestionably belonged to the
piece, because it also precedes a third copy, in the library of the Duke
of Devonshire. We know not that this drama was ever republished, but the
Registers of the Company of Stationers contain an entry by John
Charlwood, dated 15th June 1587, of "a ballad of Mr Fraunces, an
Italian, a doctor of law, who denied the Lord Jesus,"[2] which, as will
be seen presently, probably refers to the same story, and, though called
"a ballad," may possibly have been a reprint of "The Conflict of
Conscience." The names borne by the different characters are all stated
upon the title-page, with such a distribution of the parts as would
enable six actors to represent the piece; and looking merely at this
list, which we have exactly copied, it does not appear in what way the
performance bears even a remote resemblance to tragedy or comedy. The
names read like an enumeration of such personages as were ordinarily
introduced into the Moral-plays of an earlier period--indeed, one of
them seems to be derived from the still more ancient form of
Miracle-plays, frequently represented with the assistance of the clergy.
We allude to Satan, who opens the body of the drama by a long speech (so
long that we can hardly understand how a popular audience endured it)
but does not afterwards take part in the action, excepting through the
agency of such characters as Hypocrisy, Tyranny, and Avarice, who may be
supposed to be his instruments, and under his influence and direction.

Nevertheless, a real and, as he may be considered, an historical,
personage is represented in various scenes of the play, and is, in
truth, its hero, although the author, for reasons assigned in the
Prologue, objected to the insertion of his name in the text. These
reasons, however, did not apply to the title-page, where the apostacy of
Francis Spira, or Spiera, is announced as the main subject, and of whom
an account may be found in Sleidan's "Vingt-neuf Livres d'Histoire"
(liv. xxi. edit. Geneva, 1563). Spiera was an Italian lawyer, who
abandoned the Protestant for the Roman Catholic faith, and in remorse
and despair committed suicide about thirty years anterior to the date
when "The Conflict of Conscience" came from the press. How long this
event had occurred before Nathaniel Woodes wrote his drama upon the
story, we have no means of knowing; but the object of the author
unquestionably was to forward and fix the Reformation, and we may
conclude, perhaps, that an incident of the kind would not be brought
upon the stage until some years after Elizabeth had been seated on the
throne, and until what was called "the new faith" was firmly settled in
the belief, and in the affections, of the great majority of the nation.
We apprehend, therefore, that "The Conflict of Conscience" was not
written until about 1570.

It is the introduction of this real person, under the covert name of
Philologus, that constitutes the chief distinction between the drama we
have reprinted and Moral-plays, which, though still sometimes exhibited,
were falling into desuetude. As most persons are aware, they consisted,
in their first and simplest form, entirely of allegorical or
representative characters, although, as audiences became accustomed to
such abstractions, attempts were from time to time made to give, even to
such imaginary impersonations, individual peculiarities and interests.
Besides the hero of "The Conflict of Conscience," his friends Eusebius
and Theologus may also have been intended for real personages; and
Gisbertus and Paphinitius were, possibly, the true names of the sons of
Francis Spiera.

It will he seen that the drama is divided into six acts; but the last
act consists of no more than a short speech by a Nuntius, who comes
forward, as it should seem, to give a false representation of an
historical fact--so early did a dramatist feel himself warranted in
deviating from received statements, if it better answered his purpose
not to adhere to them. In the instance before us, Nathaniel Woodes
thought fit to alter the catastrophe, for the sake of the moral lesson
he wished to enforce; and he, therefore, represented that Spiera had not
committed suicide, and had, to the great joy of his friends, before
death been re-converted to the religion he had so weakly abandoned. It
will he observed, also, that the divisions of acts and scenes are very
irregularly made towards the conclusion of the performance. From one
passage we learn that no less than thirty weeks are supposed to elapse
between the exit of Philologus, and his death as announced on the
next page.

Nearly the whole of the piece is written in the ordinary seven-line
stanza, with here and there the insertion of a couplet, more, no doubt,
for convenience than for variety. The author seems to have very little
consulted the wishes and tastes of a popular assembly; for,
independently of the wearisome introduction, the interlocutions are
sometimes carried to the extreme of tediousness, and the comic scenes
are few, and failures. Perhaps, if any exception can be made, it is in
favour of the interview between Hypocrisy, Tyranny, and Avarice, where
the first, in consistency with his character, succeeds somewhat
humorously in imposing upon both his companions. The long address of
Caconos and his subsequent dialogue with Hypocrisy, Tyranny, and
Avarice, is recommended to notice as an ancient and accurate specimen of
our northern dialect. The long passage, where Caconos describes his
knowledge of his portas by its illuminations, has been imitated by other
authors, and, very likely, was not new in this drama.

What we have to state regarding the text of this play applies strictly
to all the others. We have given, as far as modern typography would
allow, faithful representations of the original copies, with the close
observation of spelling and other peculiarities. If, for the sake of
mere intelligibility, we have rarely added a word or even a letter, we
have always inserted it between brackets; and for the settlement of
difficulties, and the illustration of obscure customs and allusions, we
refer to the notes which succeed each play. We might have subjoined them
at the foot of the page, but we thought they would be considered by many
a needless interruption; while, if we had reserved the whole for the end
of our volume, their bulk, and the numerous paginal references might
have produced confusion and delay. We judged it best, therefore, to
follow each separate production by the separate notes applicable to it;
and the reader will thus have, as far as our knowledge extends, the
ready means of required explanation, which we have endeavoured to
compress into the smallest compass. We ought to add, that the only
liberty we have taken is with the old and ill-regulated punctuation[3]
which it was often necessary to alter, that the sense of the author
might be understood and appreciated.

The production which stands second in this volume may also be looked
upon, in another sense, as intermediate with reference to
stage-performances. It has for title "The rare Triumphs of Love and
Fortune," and was probably designed by its unknown author for a
court-show. The earliest information we possess regarding it establishes
that it was represented before Queen Elizabeth between Christmas 1581
and February 1582. The following is the entry regarding it in the
Accounts of the office of the Revels of that date:--

"A Historic of Love and Fortune, shewed before her Majestie at Wyndesor,
on the sondaie at night next before new yeares daie. Enacted by the
Earle of Derbies servauntes. For which newe provision was made of one
Citty and one Battlement of Canvas, iij Ells of sarcenet, a [bolt] of
canvas, and viij paire of gloves, with sondrey other furniture in this
office."[4]

There exists in the same records a memorandum respecting "The play of
Fortune" ten years earlier,[5] but the terms employed are so general,
that we do not feel warranted in considering it "The rare Triumphs of
Love and Fortune" which we have reprinted: the "History of Love and
Fortune," mentioned in the preceding quotation from the Revels'
Accounts, was no doubt the drama under consideration; and we see that,
besides sarcenet and gloves, the new properties (as they were then, and
still are, called) necessary for the performance were a city and a
battlement to be composed of, or represented on, canvas. We may perhaps
conclude that the piece was not written long before it was acted at
Windsor; but it did not come from the press until 1589, and the sole
copy of it is preserved in the library of the Earl of Ellesmere, who, in
his known spirit of liberal encouragement, long since permitted the
Editor to make a transcript of it. We have met with no entry of its
publication in the Registers of the Stationers' Company.

It will be observed that the foundation of the piece depends upon a
contest for superiority between Venus and Fortune, and that the first
act (for the drama is regularly divided into acts, though the scenes are
not distinguished) is a species of induction to the rest. It is the more
remarkable, because it contains some early specimens of dramatic
blank-verse, although it may be questioned whether the piece was ever
exhibited at a public theatre.

We discover no trace of it in "Henslowe's Diary,"[6] nor in any other
authority, printed or manuscript, relating to plays exhibited before
public audiences in the reign of Elizabeth; but it is nevertheless clear
that it was "played before the Queen's most excellent Majesty" (as the
title-page states) by the retainers of the Earl of Derby, a company of
actors at that date engaged in public performances; and it was then,
and afterwards, usual for the Master of the Revels to select dramas for
performance at court, that were favourites with persons who were in the
habit of frequenting the houses generally employed, or purposely
erected, for dramatic representations. If "The rare Triumphs of Love and
Fortune" were ever acted at a public theatre, the several shows in the
first act, of Troilus and Cressida, of Alexander, of Dido, of Pompey and
Caesar, and of Hero and Leander, would of course have been attractive.

It is not necessary to enter at all into the plot, which was composed to
evince alternately the power of Venus and of Fortune in influencing the
lives of a pair of faithful lovers: the man, with some singularity,
being called Hermione, and the woman Fidelia. They are successively
placed by the two goddesses in situations of distress and difficulty,
from which they are ultimately released; and in the end Venus and
Fortune are reconciled, and join in promoting the happiness of the
couple they had exposed to such trials. The serious business is relieved
by some attempts at comedy by a clownish servant, called Lentulo, and in
the third act a song is introduced for greater variety, which, as was
not unusual at a later period of our stage history, seems to have been
left to the choice of the performer. The prayer for the Queen, at the
conclusion of the drama, put into the mouth of Fortune, was a relic of a
more ancient practice, and perhaps affords further proof, if it were
wanted, that it was represented before Elizabeth.[7] It appears not
unlikely that, if "The rare Triumphs of Love and Fortune" had been
chosen by the Master of the Revels for representation at court on
account of its popularity, the fact of its having been acted by a
particular company at a known theatre would have been stated upon the
title-page, as a testimony to its merits, and as an incentive to its
purchasers.

We need not hesitate in stating that the third and fourth dramas in the
present volume were "publicly played," and the title-page of one of them
states the fact. Moreover, they were the authorship of a most
distinguished individual, perhaps only second to Tarlton as an actor,
and decidedly his superior as an author. Nothing that has come down to
us leads us to suppose, that Tarlton had much beyond his lavish
extemporal wit and broad drollery to recommend him; for although various
productions were attributed to him, such as are extant do not warrant an
opinion that, as a writer, he had much originality.[8] The reverse is
the case with Robert Wilson, whose initials are on the title-pages of
"The three Ladies of London," and of "The three Lords and three Ladies
of London," and who, besides his well-attested talents as a public
performer, was indisputably a dramatist of great ability. He, too, was
famous for his extreme readiness of reply, when suddenly called upon;
but we cannot help suspecting that some confusion has arisen between the
Robert Wilson, the writer of the two dramas above-named (as well as of
"The Cobbler's Prophecy," 1594, a production of a similar character),
and the Robert Wilson who is mentioned in "Henslowe's Diary," and whom
Meres, as late as 1598, calls "our worthy Wilson," adding that he was
"for learning and extemporal wit, without compare or compeer."[9] The
younger Robert Wilson was, perhaps, the son of the elder; but without
here entering into the evidence on the point (with which we were not
formerly so well-acquainted), we may state our persuasion generally,
that the Robert Wilson who was appointed one of the leaders of one of
Queen Elizabeth's two companies of players in 1583,[10] was not the same
Robert Wilson who was a joint-author, with Munday, Drayton, and Hathway,
in the drama on the story of Sir John Oldcastle, imputed to Shakespeare
on the authority of some copies printed in 1600.

There are two old editions of "The three Ladies of London," one of them
printed in 1584, the text of which we have followed, and the other in
1592, the various readings of which we have noted. Both of them have the
initials R.W. on the title-page as those of the writer; but some doubt
has been thrown upon the question of authorship, because, at the end of
the piece, in both impressions, we read "Finis. Paul Bucke." The fact,
however, no doubt is that Paul Bucke who, it has been recently
ascertained, was an actor,[11] subscribed the transcript, which about
1584 he had procured for Roger Ward the printer, in order to
authenticate it: hence the connection of his name with the production,
in the performance of which he may also have had a share, and he may
thus have had access to the prompter's book. The Paul Bucke, who in 1578
was the author of a "prayer for Sir Humphrey Gilbert," was in all
probability the same individual.[12]

The second edition of 1592 would seem, from the many variations, to have
been printed from a different manuscript to that used for the edition of
1584, and in some respects it was an improvement. Still, as we have
stated, the name of Paul Bucke is at the termination of both; and it is
a somewhat remarkable indication of the care displayed in bringing out
the second edition, that whereas in the first edition an event is spoken
of as having occurred in the reign of Queen Mary, "not much more than
twenty-six years" before, in the second edition printed seven or eight
years afterwards, the figures 26 are altered to 33. Such proofs of
attention to comparative trifles were unusual in the reprints of old
plays; and it may be doubted whether in this instance it would have been
afforded, had not "The three Ladies of London" continued such a
favourite with the town as to occasion its frequent repetition at the
public theatre. A piece of evidence to show the popularity of the drama
long after its original publication is to be found in Edward Guilpin's
"Skialetheia, or a Shadowe of Truth," 8vo, 1598, where it is thus
distinctly alluded to--

    "The world's so bad that vertue's over-awde,
    And forst, poore soule, to become vices bawde;
    Like the old morall of the comedie,
    Where Conscience favours Lucar's harlotry."

These lines are contained in the first satire of this very curious and
interesting work, and the readers of the drama will at once be aware of
their application.[13]

"The three Ladies of London" recommended itself to our notice for the
present volume, on account of the peculiarity of its construction:
Guilpin, we see, speaks of it as "the old moral of the comedy," and
this, in truth, is the exact description of it. It is neither entirely a
"moral," nor entirely a "comedy," but a mixture of both, differing from
the drama that stands first in our volume, because the real characters
introduced are not known or historical personages. Most of the _dramatis
personae_ are indisputably allegorical or representative, the
embodiments of certain virtues and vices; but individuals are also
employed, such as Gerontus a Jew, and Mercadore a merchant, besides a
Judge who is called upon to determine a dispute between them. This
portion of the piece may be said to belong to a more advanced period of
our stage, and distinguishes it, as far as we are aware, from anything
of the kind known anterior to the date when the production first came
from the press. The name Gerontus can hardly fail to bring to mind that
of the hero of the old ballad of "Gernutus, the Jew of Venice;"[14] but
there is a remarkable difference between the two persons: in the play
before us Gerontus is represented in a very favourable light, as an
upright Jew, only anxious to obtain his own property by fair means,
while his antagonist, a Christian merchant, endeavours to defeat the
claim by fraud, perjury, and apostacy. So far the drama of "The three
Ladies of London" contradicts the position, founded mainly upon
Marlowe's Barabas[15] and Shakespeare's Shylock, that our early
dramatists eagerly availed themselves of popular prejudices against
the conscientious adherents to the old dispensation.

The construction of "The three Ladies of London" in other respects will
speak for itself, but we may be allowed to give Wilson credit for the
acuteness and political subtlety he evinces in several of his scenes;
for the severity of many of his touches of satire; for his amusing
illustrations of manners; for his exposure of the tricks of foreign
merchants, and for the humour and drollery which he has thrown into his
principal comic personage. The name of this character is Simplicity, who
is the fool or clown of the performance, and who, in conformity with the
practice, not only of our earlier but sometimes of our later stage,
makes several amusing appeals to the audience. We may pretty safely
conclude, although we are without any hint of the kind, that this
arduous part was sustained by the author himself.

The original copy of this production, to which we have resorted, is
among the Garrick Plays: we recollect to have met with no other copy of
the edition of the year 1584; but at least three of the later impression
have come under our notice: one is in the library of the Duke of
Devonshire, another in that of the Earl of Ellesmere, and a third at
Oxford. Of all these we have more or less availed ourselves in
our reprint.

The fourth play in the ensuing pages, "The three Lords and three Ladies
of London," is connected in subject with the third, and, as stated
already, is by the same author, who placed his initials, R.W., upon the
title-page. The reprint is made from a copy in the possession of the
Editor, compared with two others of the same date which in no respect
vary: it may be right to mention this fact, because, as all who have
been in the habit of examining the productions of our early stage are
aware, important alterations and corrections were sometimes introduced
while the sheets were going through the press. Our title-page, including
the wood-cut, may be considered a facsimile. It will be seen that it was
printed in 1590, and it was probably written by Robert Wilson about two
years before, as a sort of second part to his "Three Ladies of London,"
which had met with such decided success. That success was perhaps in
some degree revived by the frequent performance of "The three Lords and
three Ladies of London," and the consequence seems to have been the
publication of the new edition of the former in 1592.

The author called his new effort "The pleasant and stately Moral of the
three Lords and three Ladies of London," and it bears, in all its
essential features, a strong resemblance to the species of drama known
as a Moral or Moral-play. This resemblance is even more close and
striking than that of "The three Ladies of London;" for such important
characters as Gerontus and Mercadore are wanting, and as far as the
_dramatis personae_ are concerned, there is little to take it out of the
class of earlier dramatic representations, but the characters of Nemo
and the Constable, the latter being so unimportant that Wilson did not
include him in the list of "the Actor's names" which immediately follows
the title. Had the piece, however, made a still more remote approach to
comedy, and had it possessed fewer of the mixed features belonging to
its predecessor, we should unhesitatingly have reprinted it as a
necessary sequel.

Towards the conclusion of the drama, as well indeed as in the
introductory stanzas, the allusions to the Armada and to the empty
vaunts of the Spaniards are so distinct and obvious, that we cannot
place the composition of it earlier than 1588; but it must have remained
in manuscript for about two years, since it was not published until
after July 1590, the following entry in the Stationers' Registers
bearing date the 31st of that month:--

  "Richard Jones. Entered for his copie, under thandes of doctor Wood
  and the wardens, a comedie of the plesant and statelie morrall of the
  Three lordes of London."[16]

Richard Jones, as will be seen from the imprint, was the publisher of
the work; but the clerk who made the memorandum in the books blundered
respecting the name, and, besides terming it "a comedy" as well as "a
pleasant and stately moral," he omitted that portion of the title which
immediately connects it with "The three Ladies of London." That
connection is avowed in the Prologue (usually called a "Preface") which
was spoken by "a Lady, very richly attired, representing London;" and it
is evident that the author had every reason for making the fact
prominent, inasmuch as it was his interest to prove the relationship
between his new offspring and a drama that had for some years been
established in public approbation. London, speaking in the poet's name,
therefore, says--

    "My former fruits were lovely Ladies three;
    Now of three Lords to talk is London's glee:
    Whose deeds I wish may to your liking frame,
    For London bids you welcome to the same."

Although, in its plot and general character, "The three Lords and three
Ladies of London" is not so far advanced towards genuine comedy, the
representation of life and manners, as its first part, "The three Ladies
of London," in style and composition it makes a much nearer approach to
what soon afterwards became the language of the stage, such as we find
it in the works of Shakespeare, and of some of his most gifted
contemporaries. Wilson, doubtless, saw the necessity, in 1588, of
adopting some of those improvements of versification in which Marlowe
had led the way; he therefore laid aside (excepting in a few comic
scenes) his heavy, lumbering, and monotonous fourteen-syllable lines
(sometimes carried to a greater length for the sake of variety) and not
only usually employed ten-syllable lines, but introduced speeches of
blank verse. His drama opens with this then uncommon form, and he avails
himself of it afterwards, interspersing also prose in such situations as
did not seem to require measured speech. This of itself was at that time
a bold undertaking; for Marlowe had only just before 1588, when "The
three Lords and three Ladies of London" must have been written,
commenced weaning audiences at our public theatres from what, in the
Prologue to his "Tamburlaine the Great," he ridicules as the "jigging
veins of rhiming motherwits."[17] Robert Wilson is, on this account, to
be regarded with singular respect, and his works to be read with
peculiar interest. It is not easy to settle the question of precedency,
but, as far as our knowledge at present extends, he seems entitled to be
considered the second writer of blank verse for dramas intended for
popular audiences. This is a point of view in which his productions have
never yet been contemplated, and it renders the play we have reprinted,
illustrating as it does so important and striking a change, especially
worthy of notice and republication.

Something has been already said respecting the characters who figure in
this representation, and we may add that although Simplicity, who here
performs even a more prominent and important part than in "The three
Ladies of London," must be reckoned the impersonation of a quality, and
the representative of a class, so much individuality is given to him,
particularly in his capacity of a ballad-singer, that it is impossible
not to take a strong interest in all that he says, and in the incidents
in which he is engaged. Richard Tarlton, the famous comedian, died on 3d
Sept. 1588, rather more than a month after the entry of "The three Lords
and three Ladies of London" at Stationers' Hall; and in this play it
will be seen that Simplicity produces his "picture" before the audience,
and gives a minute account of his habits, appearance, and employments.
It is clear, therefore, as Tarlton is spoken of as dead, that this part
of the drama must have been written, and introduced, subsequent to the
memorandum in the Stationers' Registers. This of itself is a curious
circumstance, and it serves to show with what promptitude our old
dramatists availed themselves of any temporary matter that could give
attraction and popularity to their plays.

As we have supposed Wilson himself to have acted Simplicity in "The
three Ladies of London," we may perhaps conclude that he sustained the
same character in "The three Lords and three Ladies of London." The part
was an excellent one for the display of comic humour and clownish
drollery, and the enumeration of the old ballads he sings and sells
needs no illustration here, where, in fact, it would be out of place.
The familiar manner in which Simplicity at times addresses the audience,
for the sake of raising a laugh, is even more unlicensed in this play
than in its predecessor, and we never before saw the words "To the
audience" introduced, by way of stage-direction to the performer, that
he might appeal to the spectators.[18]

The copy of this play most employed in the ensuing pages is the
property of the Editor, but he has had an opportunity of comparing
it with another in the library of the Duke of Devonshire.

The connection between the productions of our ancient and more modern
stage, such as it existed at the close of the reign of Elizabeth, is
even more slightly evidenced by the drama which conies last in our
volume, the main features of which bear only a distant resemblance to
our drama, while it was still under the trammels of allegorical
impersonation. Nevertheless, the likeness is to be traced without
difficulty; and when we find such a character as Honesty most
prominently engaged from the beginning to the end of the performance (to
say nothing of the introduction of the representative of the principle
of evil in two passages), the mind is carried back to a period of our
theatrical history when such characters were alone employed on our
stage. Honesty has no necessary connection with the plot, nor with its
development, beyond the exposure by his means of fraud, flattery, and
hypocrisy: he bears no relation, however distant, to any of the parties
engaged in the performance, and seems to have been designed by the
unknown author as a sort of running commentator and bitter satirist upon
the vices and follies of mankind. On the other hand, the chief
characters among the _dramatis personae_ are real and historical, and
King Edgar and Bishop Dunstan, with Ethenwald and Alfrida, may be said
to figure prominently throughout. The Knight, the Squire, and the
Farmer, who make their appearance further on, are clearly embodiments of
the several classes of society to which they appertain. Thus, although
the "Knack to know a Knave" makes a nearer approach to comedy than any
of the four dramas which precede it, it still by no means entirely
discards the use of personages of a description which, many years
earlier, engrossed our stage. Characters and scenes of life and manners
are blended with others supported only by conventional impersonations,
in which the dialogue is not intended to advance the plot, but merely to
enforce a lesson of morality, probity, or discretion.

It is not always easy to guess at the full meaning of the author in
various scenes he introduces, but some of them were obviously inserted
for the purpose of exciting the laughter of the audience, and of giving
an opportunity of display to a favourite low comedian. One of the actors
is expressly mentioned on the title-page, where "Kemp's applauded
merriments of the men of Gotham, in receiving the King into Gotham" are
made prominent; but unless much were left to the extemporaneous
invention of the performer, or unless much has been omitted in the
printed copy, which was inserted by the author in his manuscript, it is
difficult at this time of day to discover in what the wit, if not the
drollery, consisted. As this portion of the play has come down to us, it
seems to be composed of mere ignorant and blundering buffoonery,
unworthy of a comedian, who undoubtedly afterwards sustained important
humorous characters in the plays of Shakespeare. Who was the Bailiff of
Hexham, and why he was brought forward on his deathbed near the opening
of the drama, we are unable to explain, unless the author's object were
that the spectators, when the Bailiff was ultimately carried away by the
devil, should have ocular proof of the condign punishment which followed
his principles as explained to his sons, and his practices as avowed by
himself.

We can establish, almost to a day, when the "Knack to know a Knave" was
first represented, for we find it thus entered in "Henslowe's Diary:" it
is in an account relating to the performances of the company acting
under the name of Lord Strange, at the Rose Theatre, from 19th Feb.
1591-2 to the 22d June 1592--

  R[eceive]d at Jeronimo, the 9 of June 1592   xxviij's.
  Rd at a Knack to know a Knave, 1592, 1 day   iij'li. xij's.
  Rd at Harry the VI, the 12 June 1592         xxxiij's.

Here, therefore, we find (reforming the uncouth spelling of the old
manager) that the play under consideration was acted, for the first
day,[19] between the 9th and 12th June 1592, and that Henslowe's share
of the receipts amounted to 3l. 12s. 0d. It was acted again on 15th and
22d June, when the account ends. William Kemp was at this time a member
of the company in the prosperity of which Henslowe was interested, and
had not yet joined the association acting under the sanction of the Lord
Chamberlain, to which, in 1592, Shakespeare had for some years belonged.
"Ed. Allen and his Company," spoken of on the title-page to the printed
copy of "A Knack to know a Knave" as those by whom it had been "played,"
were the actors of Lord Strange.[20]

With regard to the date when the "Knack to know a Knave" was printed,
we are in possession of pretty distinct evidence that it came out in the
early part of 1594, the year stated on the title-page. The imprint also
informs us that Richard Jones, then carrying on business at the Rose and
Crown near Holborn Bridge, was the typographer; and we meet with the
following entry at Stationers' Hall, preparatory to the publication,
with his name prefixed to it.

  "vij'o Januarij [1593-4]

  "Rich. Jones. Entred for his Copie &c. A comedie entitled a Knack to
  knowe a Knaue, newlye sett fourth, as it hath sundrye tymes ben plaid
  by Ned Allen and his Companie, with Kemps applauded Merymentes of the
  men of Goteham."[21]

The sum paid to the clerk who kept the register was, as usual, sixpence;
and from the terms above employed, which nearly follow those of the
title-page, we may feel pretty sure that the copy taken to Stationers'
Hall was a printed one, and not, as seems to have been generally the
case, a manuscript.

There is no doubt that the drama was extremely popular both on and off
the stage; and although it is now one of the scarcest of our old plays,
it must have been a profitable speculation to the publisher. In order
that the various parties interested might more effectually avail
themselves of the favour with which it had been received, a sort of
counterpart was written to it, and acted for the first time on 22d
October 1594, by the players of the Queen and of the Earl of Sussex
(then performing together), under the title of "A Knack to know an
Honest Man." This drama, though inferior in every respect, appears by
"Henslowe's Diary" (for he was also interested in the receipts of these
united associations) to have had a long and advantageous run.[22] It was
not published until 1596, and it was previously entered on the
Stationers' books by Cuthbert Burby. In the same year was printed by
Valentine Simmes a work, the title of which was evidently borrowed from
the proverbial expression "a knack to knowe a knave," which possibly had
its origin in the great popularity of the drama we have reprinted. This
work was by M.B., and was called "The Triall of true Friendship; or a
perfect mirror to discerne a trustie friend from a flattering
Parasite--Otherwise a _Knack to know a Knave_ from an honest man." One
principal purpose of the play under consideration was to expose the
flattery of the parasite Perin, who endeavoured to impose upon King
Edgar, but was detected by Honesty. It seems not unlikely that Honesty
was the character sustained by Edward Alleyn, but we have no knowledge
of the distribution of any of the parts, beyond the fact that Kemp
played a chief blunderer in the comic scene; whether that was the
Miller, the Cobbler, or the Smith may, perhaps, admit of dispute.

The story of the serious portion of the play was doubtless derived from
an old ballad, inserted by Thomas Deloney in his "Garland of Good Will"
(probably written by him), where it is entitled "A Song of King Edgar,
showing how he was deceived of his Love." As it is reprinted in all the
editions of "Evans's Old Ballads," and has been the subject of two plays
in comparatively modern times,[23] it is not necessary here to give any
detail of the plot, which also, in several incidents, strongly resembles
parts of Robert Greene's "Friar Bacon and Friar Bongay," which, like the
"Knack to know a Knave," was printed in 1594.[24]

The Editor was, some years ago, permitted to make a transcript of this
rare play from a copy in the library of his Grace the Duke of
Devonshire, that in the British Museum being very defective in several
places, and the missing pages having been supplied by very delusive
manuscript. The Rev. Alexander Dyce also possesses a perfect exemplar,
which was extremely useful for the purpose of collation.






THE CONFLICT OF CONSCIENCE


EDITION.

An excellent new Commedie, Intituled: The Conflict of Conscience.
Contayninge, A most lamentable example of the dolefull desperation of a
miserable world-linge termed by the name of Philologus, _who_ forsooke
the trueth of Gods Gospel, for feare of the losse of lyfe & worldly
goods. Compiled, by Nathaniell Woodes, Minister, in Norwich.

The Actors names, deuided into six partes, most conuenient for such as
be disposed, either to shew this Comedie in priuate houses, or
otherwise.

PROLOGUE,     |
MATHETES,     |  _For one_.
CONSCIENCE,   |
PAPHINITIUS,  |

SATAN,        |
TYRANNY,      |
SPIRIT,       |  _For one_.
HORROR,       |
EUSEBIUS,     |

AVARICE,      |
SUGGESTION,   |  _For one_.
GISBERTUS,    |
NUNTIUS,      |

HYPOCRISY,    |  _For one_.
THEOLOGUS,    |

CARDINAL,     |  _For one_.
CACON,        <

PHILOLOGUS,      _For one_.

At London Printed by Richarde Bradocke dwellinge in Aldermanburie,
a little aboue the Conduict. Anno. 1581. 4º. Black-letter.



THE PROLOGUE

When whirling winds which blow with blust'ring blast,
Shall cease their course, and not the air move,
But still unstirred it doth stand, it chanceth at the last
To be infect, the truth hereof even day by day we prove;
For deep within the caves of earth of force it doth behove,
Sith that no winds do come thereto, the air out to beat,
By standing still the closed air doth breed infections great.

The stream or flood, which runneth up and down,
Is far more sweet than is the standing brook:
If long unworn you leave a cloak or gown,
Moths will it mar, unless you thereto look:
Again, if that upon a shelf you place or set a book,
And suffer it there still to stand, the worms will soon it eat:
A knife likewise, in sheath laid up, the rust will mar and fret.

The good road-horse, if still at rack he stand,
To resty jade will soon transformed be:
If long untill'd you leave a fertile land,
From streck and weed no place will be left free.
By these examples and such like approve then well may we,
That idleness more evils doth bring into the mind of man,
Than labour great in longer time again expel out can.

Which thing our Author marking well, when wearied was his mind
From reading grave and ancient works, yet loth his time to lose,
Bethought himself, to ease his heart, some recreance to find,
And as he mused in his mind, immediately arose
A strange example done of late, which might, as he suppose,
Stir up their minds to godliness, which should it see or hear,
And therefore humbly doth you pray to give attentive ear.

The argument or ground, whereon our Author chiefly stayed,
Is (sure) a history strange and true, to many men well known,
Of one through love of worldly wealth and fear of death dismay'd,
Because he would his life and goods have kept still as his own,
From state of grace wherein he stood was almost overthrown;
So that he had no power at all in heart firm faith to have,
Till at the last God chang'd his mind his mercies for to crave.

And here our Author thought it meet the true name to omit,
And at this time imagine him PHILOLOGUS to be;
First, for because a Comedy will hardly him permit
The vices of one private man to touch particularly:
Again, now shall it stir them more, who shall it hear or see;
For if this worldling had been nam'd, we would straight deem in mind,
That all by him then spoken were, ourselves we would not find.

But sith PHILOLOGUS is nought else but one that loves to talk,
And common[25] of the word of God, but hath no further care,
According as it teacheth them in God's fear for to walk,
If that we practise this indeed, PHILOLOGI we are,
And so by his deserved fault we may in time beware:
Now if, as Author first it meant, you hear it with this gain,
In good behalf he will esteem that he bestowed his pain.

And for because we see by proof, that men do soon forget
Those things for which to call them by no name at all they know,
Our Author, for to help short wits, did think it very meet
Some name for this his Comedy in preface for to show.
Now names to natures must agree, as every man do know,
A fitter name he could in mind no where excogitate,
Than THE CONFLICT OF CONSCIENCE the same to nominate.

A cruel Conflict certainly, where Conscience takes the foil,
And is constrained by the flesh to yield to deadly sin,
Whereby the grace and love of God from him his sin doeth spoil,
Then (wretch accurs'd) small power hath repentance to begin.
This history here example shows of one fast wrapp'd therein,
As in discourse before your eyes shall plainly proved be;
Yet (at the last) God him restor'd, even of his mercy free.

And though the history of itself be too-too dolorous,
And would constrain a man with tears of blood his cheeks to wet,
Yet to refresh the minds of them that be the auditors,
Our Author intermixed hath, in places fit and meet,
Some honest mirth, yet always 'ware decorum to exceed.
But list, I hear the players prest in presence forth to come:
I therefore cease, and take my leave: my message I have done.

                                                         [_Exit_.




THE CONFLICT OF CONSCIENCE.

ACT I., SCENE 1.


SATAN.

High time it is for me to stir about,
And do my best my kingdom to maintain,
For why I see of enemies a rout,
Which all my laws and statutes do disdain;
Against my state do fight and strive amain:
Whom in time if I do not dissipate,
I shall repent it, when it is too late.
My mortal foe, the carpenter's poor son,
Against my children--the Pharisees I mean--
Upbraiding them, did use this comparison,
As in the story of his life may be seen.
There was a man which had a vineyard green,
Who, letting it to husbandmen unkind,
Instead of fruit unthankfulness did find.
So that his servants firstly they did beat.
His son likewise they afterward did kill:
And hereupon that man, in fury great,
Did soldiers send these husbandmen to spill;
Their town to burn he did them also will:
But out alas, alas, for woe I cry,
To use the same far juster cause have I.
For where the kingdom of this world is mine,
And his on whom I will the same bestow,
As prince hereof I did myself assign:
My darling dear, whose faithful love I know,[26]
Shall never fail from me, but daily flow.
But who that is, perhaps some man may doubt;
I will therefore in brief portract and paint him out.
The mortal man by nature's rule is bound
That child to favour more than all the rest,
Which to himself in face is likest found;
So that he shall with all his goods be blest:
Even so do I esteem and like him best,
Which doth most near my dealings imitate,
And doth pursue God's laws with deadly hate.
As therefore I, when once in angel's state
I was, did think myself with God as mate to be,
So doth my son himself now elevate
Above man's nature in rule and dignity.
So that _in terris Deus sum_, saith he:
In earth I am a God, with sins for to dispense,
And for rewards I will forgive each manner of offence.
I said to Eve: tush, tush, thou shalt not die,
But rather shalt as God know everything;
My son likewise, to maintain idolatry,
Saith: tush, what hurt can carved idols bring?
Despise this law of God, the heavenly King,
And set them in the church for men thereon to look:
An idol doth much good: it is a layman's book.
Nembroth,[27] that tyrant, fearing God's hand,
By me was persuaded to build up high Babel,
Whereby he presumed God's wrath to withstand:
So hath my boy devised very well
Many pretty toys to keep men's soul from hell,
Live they never so evil here and wickedly,
As masses, trentals, pardons, and scala coeli.
I egged on Pharaoh, of Egypt the king,
The Israelites to kill, so soon as they were born:
My darling likewise doth the selfsame thing,
And therefore causes kings and princes to be sworn,
That with might and main they shall keep up his horn,
And shall destroy with fire, axe, and sword,
Such as against him shall speak but one word.
And even as I was somewhat too slow,
So that notwithstanding the Israelites did augment;
So (for lack of murthering) God's people do grow,
And daily increase at this time present;
Which my son shall feel incontinent.
Yet another practice, this evil to withstand,
He learned of me, which now he takes in hand.
For when as Moses I might not destroy,
Because that he was of the Lord appointed
To bring the people from thraldom to joy,
I did not cease, whilst I had invented,
Another means to have him prevented;
By accompting himself the son of Pharaoh,
To make him loth Egypt to forego.
The same advice I also attempted
Against the Son of God, when he was incarnate;
Hoping thereby to have him relented,
And for promotion-sake himself to prostrate
Before my feet, when I did demonstrate
The whole world unto him and all the glory,
As it is recorded in Matthew's history.
So hath the Pope, who is my darling dear,
My eldest boy, in whom I do delight,
Lest he should fall, which thing he greatly fear,
Out of his seat of honour, pomp and might,
Hath got to him, on his behalf to fight,
Two champions stout, of which the one is Avarice,
The other is called Tyrannical Practice.
For, as I said, although I claim by right
The kingdom of this earthly world so round,
And in my stead to rule with force and might
I have assigned the Pope, whose match I nowhere found,
His heart with love to me so much abound;
Yet divers men of late, of malice most unkind,
Do study, to displace my son, some wayward means to find.
Wherefore I marvel much what cause of let there is,
That hitherto they have not their office put in ure.
I will go see: for why I fear that somewhat is amiss;
If not, to range abroad the world I will them straight procure:
But needs they must have one to help, men's hearts for to allure
Unto their train: who that should be, I cannot yet espy.
No meeter match I can find out than is Hypocrisy;
Who can full well in time and place dissemble either part.
No man shall easily perceive with which side he doth bear;
But when once favour he hath got, and credit in man's heart,
He will not slack in mine affairs: I do him nothing fear.
But time doth run too fast away for me to tarry here;
For[28] none will be enamoured of my shape, I do know,
I will therefore mine imps send out from hell their shapes to show.

                                                    [_Exit_.



ACT I, SCENE 2.


    MATHETES, PHILOLOGUS.

[MATHETES.]
My mind doth thirst, dear friend Philologus,
Of former talk to make a final end:
And where before we 'gan for to discuss
The cause why God doth such afflictions send
Into his Church, you would some more time spend
In the same cause, that thereby you might learn
Betwixt the wrath and love of God a right for to discern.

PHILOLOGUS.
With right good-will to your request herein I do consent,
As well because, as I perceive, you take therein delight,
As also for because it is most chiefly pertinent
Unto mine office to instruct and teach each Christian wight
True godliness, and show to them the path that leadeth right
Unto God's kingdom, where we shall inherit our salvation,
Given unto us from God by Christ our true propitiation.
But that a better-ordered course herein we may observe,
And may directly to the first apply that which ensue,
To speak that hath been said before, I will a time reserve,
And so proceed from whence we left by course and order due
Unto the end. At first, therefore, you did lament and rue
The misery of these our days, and great calamity,
Which those sustain who dare gainsay the Romish hypocrisy.

MATHETES.
I have just cause, as hath each Christian heart,
To wail and weep, to shed out tears of blood,
When as I call to mind the torments and the smart,
Which those have borne, who honest be and good,
For nought else, but because their errors they withstood:
Yet joyed I much to see how patiently
They bore the cross of Christ with constancy.

PHILOLOGUS.
So many of us as into one body be
Incorporate, whereof Christ is the lively head,
As members of our bodies which we see
With joints of love together be conjoined,
And must needs suffer, unless that they be dead,
Some part of grief in mind, which other feel
In body, though not so much by a great deal.
Wherefore by this it is most apparent,
That those two into one body are not united,
Of the which the one doth suffer, the other doth torment,
And in the wounds of his brother is delighted:
Now which is Christ's body may easily be decided;
For the lamb is devoured of the wolf alway,
Not the wolf of the lamb, as Chrysostom doth say.
Again, of unrighteous Cain murthered was Abel,
By whom the Church of God was figured:
Isaac likewise was persecuted of Ishmael,
As in the Book of Genesis is mentioned:
Israel of Pharaoh was also terrified:
David the saint was afflicted by his son,
And put from his kingdom--I mean by Absalom.
Elias the Thisbite, for fear of Jezebel
Did fly to Horeb, and hid him in a cave:
Michas the prophet, as the story doth tell,
Did hardly his life from Baal's priests save:
Jeremy of that sauce tasted have:
So did Esay, Daniel, and the children three,
And thousands more, which in stories we may see.

MATHETES.
In the New Testament we may also read,
That our Saviour Christ, even in his infancy,
Of Herod the king might stand in great dread,
Who sought to destroy him, such was his insolency:
Afterward of the Pharisees he did with constancy
Suffer shameful death: his apostles also
For testimony of the truth did their crosses undergo.

PHILOLOGUS.
James, under Herod, was headed with the sword:
The rest of the apostles did suffer much turmoil.
Good Paul was murthered by Nero his word:
Domitian devised a barrel full of oil,
The body of John the Evangelist to boil,
The Pope at this instant sundry torments procure,
For such as by God's holy word will endure.
By these former stories two things we may learn
And profitably record in our remembrance:
The first is God's Church from the devil's to discern:
The second to mark what manifest resistance
The truth of God hath, and what encumbrance
It bringeth upon them that will it profess;
Wherefore they must arm themselves to suffer distress.

MATHETES.
It is no new thing, I do now perceive,
That Christ's Church do suffer tribulation;
But that the same cross I might better receive,
I request you to show me for my consolation,
What is the cause, by your estimation,
That God doth suffer his people to be in thrall,
Yet help them, so soon as they to him call?

PHILOLOGUS.
The chiefest thing which might us cause or move,
With constant minds Christ's cross for to sustain,
Is to conceive of heaven a faithful love;
Whereto we may not come, as Paul doth prove it plain,
Unless with Christ we suffer, that with him we may reign:
Again, sith that it is our heavenly Father's will
By worldly woes our carnal lusts to kill.
Moreover, we do use to loathe that thing we alway have,
And do delight the more in that which mostly we do want:
Affliction urgeth us also more earnestly to crave,
And when we once relieved be, true faith in us it plant,
So that to call in each distress on God we will not faint:
For trouble brings forth patience, from patience doth ensue
Experience, from experience hope, of health the anchor true.
Again, ofttimes God doth provide affliction for our gain,
As Job, who after loss of goods had twice so much therefor.
Sometime affliction is a means to honour to attain,
As you may see, if Joseph's life you set your eyes before:
Continually it doth us warn from sinning any more,
When as we see the judgments just which God, our heavenly King,
Upon offenders here in earth for their offences bring.
Sometime God doth it us to prove, if constant we will be;
As he did unto Abraham: sometime his whole intent
Is to declare His heavenly might; as in John we may see,
When the disciples did ask Christ why God the blindness sent
Unto that man that was born blind? to whom incontinent
Christ said: Neither for parents' sins, nor for his own offence,
Was he born blind, but that God might show his magnificence.

MATHETES.
This is the sum of all your talk, if that I guess aright,
That God doth punish his elect to keep their faith in ure,
Or lest that, if continual ease and rest enjoy they might,
God to forget through haughtiness frail nature should procure;
Or else by feeling punishment our sins for to abjure;
Or else to prove our constancy; or lastly, that we may
Be instruments, in whom his might God may abroad display.
Now must I needs confess to you my former ignorance,
Which knew no cause at all, why God should trouble his elect,
But thought afflictions all to be rewards for our offence,
And to proceed from wrathful judge did alway it suspect;
As do the common sort of men, who will straightway direct,
And point their fingers at such men as God doth chastise here,
Esteeming them by just desert their punishment to bear.

PHILOLOGUS.
Such is the nature of mankind, himself to justify,
And to condemn all other men, whereas we ought of right
Accuse ourselves especial, and God to magnify,
Who in his mercy doth us spare, whereas he also might,
Sith that we do the selfsame things, with like plagues us requite:
Which thing our Saviour Christ doth teach, as testifieth Luke,
The thirteenth chapter, where he doth vainglorious men rebuke.
But for this time let this suffice: now let us homeward go,
And further talk in private place, if need be, we will have.

MATHETES.
With right good-will I will attend on you your house unto,
Or else go you with me to mine, the longer journey save;
For it is now high dinner-time: my stomach meat doth crave.

PHILOLOGUS.
I am soon bidden to my friend: come on; let us depart.

MATHETES.
Go you before, and I will come behind with all my heart.

                                                  [_Exeunt_.




ACT II., SCENE 1.


HYPOCRISY.
God speed you all that be of God's belief:
The mighty Jehovah protect you from ill.
I beseech the living God, that he would give
To each of you present a hearty good-will
With flesh to contend, your lust for to kill,
That, by the aid of spiritual assistance,
You may subdue your carnal concupiscence.
God grant you all, for his mercy's sake,
The light of his word to your heart's joy.
I humbly beseech him a confusion to make
Of erroneous sects which might you annoy:
Earnestly requiring each one to employ
His whole endeavour God's word to maintain,
And from strange doctrine your hearts to refrain.
Grant, Lord, I pray thee, such preachers to be
In thy congregation, thy people to learn,
As may, for conscience' sake and of mere sincerity,
Being able 'twixt corn and cockle to discern,
Apply their study to replenish the bern;
That is thy Church, by their doctrines increase,
And make many heirs of thine eternal peace. Amen. Amen.
But soft, let me see who doth me aspect.
First, sluggish Saturn of nature so cold,
Being placed in Tauro, my beams do reject,
And Luna in Cancro in sextile he behold.
I will the effect hereafter unfold:
Now Jupiter the gentle, of temperature mean,
Poor Mercury the turncoat, he forsook clean.
Now murthering Mars retrograde in Libra,
With amiable tryne apply to my beam;
And splendent Sol the ruler of the day,
After his eclipse to Jupiter will lean:
The goddess of pleasure (dame Venus, I mean)
To me her poor servant seem friendly to be:
So also doth Luna, otherwise called Phoebe.
But now I speak mischievously, I would say, in a mystery;
Wherefore, to interpret it, I hold it best done,
For here be a good sort, I believe, in this company,
That know not my meaning, as this man for one.
What! blush not at it; you are not alone:
Here is another that know not my mind,
Nor he in my words great favour can find.
The planet Mercurius is neither hot nor cold,
Neither good, nor yet very bad of his own nature,
But doth alter his quality with them, which do hold
Any friendly aspect to him: even so I assure
We Mercurialists, I mean hypocrites, cannot long endure
In one condition, but do alter our mind
To theirs that talk with us, thereby friendship to find.
The little cameleon, by nature, can change
Herself to that colour to which she behold:
Why should it then to any seem strange,
That we do thus alter? why are we controll'd,
Sith only the rule of nature we hold?
We seek to please all men, yet most do us hate,
And we are rewarded for friendship debate.
Saturnus is envious; how then can he love
Adulation or Hypocrisy, to him most contrary?
The Jovists, being good, do look high above,
And do not regard the rest of the company.
Now Mars, being retrograde, foretelleth misery
To tyrannical practice to happen eftsoon,
As shall be apparent before all be done.
Which Tyranny with flattery is easily pacified;
Whereas Tom Tell-troth shall feel of his sword;
So that with such men is fully verified
That old-said saw, and common byword,
_Obsequium amicos_--by flatteries friends are prepared,
But _veritas odium parit_, as commonly is seen:
For speaking the truth many hated have been.
By Sol understand Popish principality,
With whom full highly I am entertained,
But being eclipsed shall show forth his quality;
Then shall Hypocrisy be utterly disdained,
Whose wretched exile, though greatly complained,
And wept for of many, shall be without hope,
That in such pomp shall ever be Pope.
By Venus the riotous, by Luna the variable,
Betwixt whom and Mercury no variance can fall,
For they, which in words be most unstable,
Would be thought faithful, and the riotous liberal:
So that Hypocrisy their doings cloak shall.
But whist! not a word, for yonder come some:
While I know what they are, I will be dumb.

                                      [_Step aside_.



ACT II, SCENE 2.


    TYRANNY, AVARICE.

[TYRANNY.]
Put me before, for I will shift for one,
                           [_Push_ AVARICE _backward_.
So long as strength remaineth in this arm:
And pluck up thy heart, thou faint-hearted mome:
As long as I live thou shalt take no harm.
Such as control us, I will their tongues charm
By fire or sword, or other like torment,
So that ever they did it, they shall it repent.
Hast thou forgotten what Satan did say,    [HYP. Ambo.[29]]
That the k[nave] Hypocrisy our doings should hide,
So that under his cloak our parts we should play,
And of the rude people should never be spied?
Or if the worst should hap or betide,
That I by Tyranny should both you defend
Against such as mischief to you should pretend.

AVARICE.
Indeed, such words our Belsire did speak,    [HYP. Tut, Father Jotsam!]
Which, being remembered, doth make my heart glad;
But yet one thing my courage doth break,
And when I think of it, it makes me full sad:
I mean the evil luck which Hypocrisy had,
When he was expelled out of this land;
For then with me the matter evil did stand.
For I by him so shadowed was from light,

    [HYP. A little k[nave] to hide so great a lubber.]

That almost no man could me out espy;
But he being gone, to every man's sight
I was apparent: each man did descry
My pilling and polling; so that glad was I
From my nature to cease, a thing most marvellous,
And live in secret, the time was so dangerous.

    [HYP. He feareth nothing: he thinketh the hangman is dead.]

TYRANNY.
Tush! Avarice, thou fearest a thing that is vain,
For by me alone both you shall be stayed;
And, if thou mark well, thou shalt perceive plain
That if I, Tyranny, my part had well played,

    [HYP. He can play two parts, the fool and the k[nave].]

And from killing of heretics my hand had not stayed,
They had never growen to such a great rout,
Neither should have been able to have banish'd him out.
But _sero sapiunt Phryges_; at length I will take heed,

    [HYP. A popish policy!]

And with blood enough this evil will prevent;
For if I hear of any that in word or in deed--
Yea, if it be possible to know their intent,
If I can prove that in thought they it meant

    [HYP. Anti-Christian charity.]

To impair our estates--no prayer shall serve,
But will pay them their hire, as each one deserve.

AVARICE.
The fish once taken, and 'scaped from bait,
Will ever hereafter beware of the hook:
Such as use hunting will spy the hare straight,
Though other discern her not, yet on her shall look.
Again, the learned can read in a book,
Though the unskilful, seeing equal with them,
Cannot discern an F from an M.
So those which have tasted the fruit that we bear,
And find it so sour, will not us implant.

TYRANNY.
Tush! Avarice, I warrant thee, thou need'st not fear:

    [HYP. _Utilitas facit esse Deos_.]

In the clergy, I know, no friends we shall want,
Which for hope of gain the truth will recant,
And give themselves wholly to set out Hypocrisy,
Being egg'd on with Avarice, and defended by Tyranny.

AVARICE.
Well may the clergy on our side hold,
For they by us no small gain did reap;
But all the temporalty, I dare be bold
To venture in wager of gold a good heap,
At our preferments will mourn, wail, and weep.

    [HYP. This is sharp arguments.]

TYRANNY.
Though indeed no just cause of joy they can find,
Yet for fear of my sword they will alter their mind,
But I marvel much where Hypocrisy is:
Methink it is long since from us he did go.

AVARICE.
I doubt that of his purpose he miss,
And therefore hath hanged himself for woe.    [HYP. Pray for yourself.]
How say'st thou, Tyranny, dost not think so?
In faith, if I thought that he might be spared,

    [HYP. Your kind heart shall cost me a couple of rushes.]

And we have our purpose, beshrew me, if I cared.

TYRANNY.
Saw you ever the like of this doubting dolt?

    [HYP. Not I the like of such a cutthroat colt.]

It grieves me to hear how faint-hearted he is.    [_Aside_.
A little would cause me to kill thee, thou ass-colt.
See, see, for woe he is like for to piss:
To give an attempt what a fellow were this?
But this is the good that cometh of Covetousness:
He liveth alway in fear to lose his riches.
Again, mark how he regardeth the death of his friend:
So he hath his purpose, he cares for no mo:
A perfect pattern of a covetous mind,
Which neither esteemeth his friend nor his foe,
But rather, Avarice, might I have said so,
Who, if he were gone, myself could defend,
Where thou by his absence wert soon at an end.

                                           [_Exeunt_.



ACT II., SCENE 3.


HYPOCRISY.
O loving Father and merciful God!
We through our sins thy punishment deserve,
And have provoked to beat with thy rod
Us stubborn children, which from thee do swerve.
We loathed thy word, but now we shall sterve;
For Hypocrisy is placed again in this land,
And thy true gospel as exile doth stand.
This is thy just judgment for our offence,
Who having the light in darkness did stray,
But now, if thou wouldest of thy fatherly benevolence
Thy purposed judgments in wrath for to stay,
The part of the prodigal son we would play;
And with bitter tears before thee would fall,
And in true repentance for mercy would call.
In our prosperity we would not regard
The words of the preachers, who threat'ned the same,
But flattering ourselves, thought thou wouldest have spared
Us in thy mercy, and never us blame:
But so much provoked thee by blaspheming thy name,
Indeed to deny that in words we maintain,
That from thy justice thou could'st not refrain.
So that Romish Pharaoh, a tyrant most cruel,
Hath brought us again into captivity,
And instead of the pure flood of thy gospel,
Hath poisoned our souls with devilish Hypocrisy,
Unable to maintain it, but by murthering Tyranny;
Seeking rather the fleece than the health of the sheep,
Which are appointed for him for to keep.

    [_Re-enter_ AVAR. _and_ TYR.]

TYRANNY.
Lo, Avarice, hark what a traitor is here,

    [HYP. [aside.] He speaketh to you, Syra.]

Against our holy Father this language to use!
I might have heard more, if I would him forbear,
But for grief my ears burn to hear him abuse
His tongue in this manner: wherefore no excuse
Shall purchase favour, but that with all speed
By sword I will render to him his due meed.
Wherefore, thou miscreant, while thou hast time,
Pray to the saints thy spokesman to be,
That at God's hand from this thy great crime
By their intercession thou may be set free.

AVARICE.
Nay, hearest thou, Tyranny? be ruled by me:
First cut off his head, and then let him pray,
So shall he be sure us not to bewray.

HYPOCRISY.
O wicked Tyranny! thou imp of the devil,
Too joyful tidings to thee have I brought,
For now thou art emboldened to practise all evil.

TYRANNY.
Marry, thou shalt not give me thy service for nought,
But for thy pains to please thee I thought.

HYPOCRISY.
Thou art nothing so ready to do any good,
As thou art to shed poor innocents' blood.

AVARICE.
Nay, Tyranny, suffer this rascal to prate,

    [HYP. [_aside_.] On your face, sir.]

Till some man come by, and then he is gone.
Then wilt thou repent it, when it is too late:
Despatch him, therefore, while we are alone.

HYPOCRISY.
Well may the covetous be likened to a drone,
Which of the bee's labours will spoil and waste make,
And yet to get honey no labour will take.
The covetous likewise from poor men extort,
Their gains to increase they only do seek;
And so they may have it, of them a great sort
What means they use for it they care not a leek:
Yet will these misers scarce once a week
Have one good meal at their own table:
So by Avarice to help themselves they are unable.
Avarice to a fire may well compared be,
To the which the more you add, the more still it crave:
So likewise the covetous mind we do see,
Though riches abound, do wish still more to have
And to be short, your reverences to save,
To a filthy swine such misers are comparable,
Which, while[30] they be dead, are nothing profitable.

AVARICE.
Nay, farewell, Tyranny: I came hither too soon,
I perceive already I am too well known.
I were not best in their claws for to come,
Unless I were willing to be clean overthrown.

TYRANNY.
By the preaching of God's word all this mischief is grown,
Which if Hypocrisy might happily expel,
All we in safety and pleasure might dwell.
Stay, therefore, while from Hypocrisy we hear.

AVARICE.
Despatch then this merchant,[31] lest our counsel he tell.

HYPOCRISY.
I am content for God's cause this cross for to bear.

TYRANNY.
It is best killing him now his mind is set well.

HYPOCRISY.
Your scoffing and mocking God seeth each deal.

TYRANNY.
Yea, dost thou persist us still thus to check?
Thy speech I will hinder by cutting off thy neck.

HYPOCRISY.
Nay, hold thy hand, Cadby, thou hast kill'd me enough.
What! never the sooner for a merry word.
I meant not good earnest, to your maship I vow.
I did but jest, and spake but in bord:
Therefore of friendship put up again thy sword.

TYRANNY.
Nay, caitiff, presume not that thou shalt go scot-free;
Therefore, hold still, and I will soon despatch thee.

HYPOCRISY.
What! I pray thee, Tyranny, know first who I am.
Ye purblinded fools, do your lips blind your eyes?
Why, I was in place long before you came;
But you could not see the wood for the trees.
But, in faith, father Avarice, I will pay you your fees,
For the great good-will which you to me bear,
                                      [HYPOCRISY _fighteth_.
And in time will requite it again, do not fear.

AVARICE.
Content yourself, good Master Hypocrisy:
The words which I spake, I spake unaware.

TYRANNY.
Hold thy hand, Hypocrisy, I pray thee heartily:
So like a madman with thy friends do not fare.

HYPOCRISY.
For neither of you both a pin do I care:
Go, shake your ears both, like slaves as you be,
And look not in your need to be holpen of me.

TYRANNY.
What, Master Hypocrisy, will you take snuff so soon?
Marry, then you had need to be kept very warm.

AVARICE.
I swear to your mastership, by the man in the moon,
That to your person I intended no harm.

HYPOCRISY.
But that I am weary, I would both your tongues charm.
See how to my face they do me deride    [_Aside_];
I will not therefore in your companies abide.

AVARICE.
Why, Master Hypocrisy, what would you that I do?
For my offence of mercy I you pray.

HYPOCRISY.
With thee I am at one; but of that merchant too
I look for some amends, or else I will away.

TYRANNY.
The presumptuous fool's part herein thou dost play.
What! of thy master dost thou look for obeisance?
I will not once entreat thee: if thou wilt, get thee hence.

HYPOCRISY.
_Nimia familiaritas parit contemptum_,
The old proverb by me is verified,
By too much familiarity contemned be some:
Even so at this present to me it betide.
For of long time Hypocrisy hath ruled as guide,
While now, of later days, through heretics' resistance,
I retained Tyranny to yield me assistance;
But through overmuch levity he thinks himself checkmate
With me his good patron, Master Hypocrisy.

TYRANNY.
List, I pray thee, Avarice, how this rascal can prate,
And with me Tyranny doth challenge equality;
Where he of himself hath neither strength nor hability;
But thou to him riches, and I strength, do give,
So that I must be his master, though it doth him grieve.

AVARICE.
Two dogs oftentimes one bone would fain catch,
But yet the third do them both deceive.
Even so Hypocrisy for the pre-eminence doth snatch,
Which Tyranny gapes for, ye may perceive:
But I must obtain it; for of me they retain
All kind of riches, their states to maintain,
To yield to me, therefore, they must be both fain.    [_Aside_.

HYPOCRISY.
Was Judas Christ's master, because he bare the purse?
Nay, rather of all he was least regarded,
Have not men of honour stewards to disburse
All such sums of money wherewith they be charged?
Yet above their master their honour is not enlarged:
Even so thee, Avarice, my steward I account,
To pay that whereto my charges amount.
And to thee, Tyranny, this one word I object:
Whether was Joab or David the king?
When Joab was glad his ease to reject,
The Ammonites in Rabah to confusion to bring,
When David with Bathsheba at home was sleeping,
Was not Joab, his servant, in warfare to fight?
And so art thou mine, mine enemies to quite.

TYRANNY.
Nay, then, at the whole God give you good night,
Shall Tyranny to Hypocrisy in any point yield?

HYPOCRISY.
With this one word I will vanquish thee quite,
That thou shalt be glad to give me the field.
The end to be preferred all learned men wield:
Sith therefore Hypocrisy of Tyranny is end,
I must have the preferment for which I contend.

    [AVA. Indeed you say troth.]

TYRANNY.
I will make you both grant that I am the chief,
Or else with my sword your sides I will pierce.

HYPOCRISY.
That were sharp reasoning indeed, with a mischief!

AVARICE.
I will yield him my right, if that he be so fierce.

HYPOCRISY.
The nature of hypocrites herein we rehearse;
Which, being convinced by the text of God's word,
The end of their spouting is fire and sword.
But if you will needs be chief, God speed well the plough:
I will be none that shall follow your train;
For if I should, I know well enough
That to fly the country we all should be fain:
Then were my labour done but in vain.
You know not so much as I do, Tyranny,
Therefore, I advise you, be ruled by me.

TYRANNY.
_Inter amicos omnia sunt communia_, they say:
Among friends there is reckoned no property,
But that the one hath of his own, th' other may
Have the use of the same at his own liberty,
Even so among us it is of a surety;
For what the one hath of his own proper right,
It is thine to use by day or by night.

AVARICE.
Indeed you say truth, the end is worth all;

    [HYP. He hath learned logeres.[32]]

Such things as to get the end are referred,
And by this reason to you I prove shall,
That I before Hypocrisy must be preferred:
The conclusion of my reason is this[33] inferred;
Sith Hypocrisy was invented to augment private gain,
I am the end of Hypocrisy: this is plain.

HYPOCRISY.
_Actum est de amicitia_, the bargain is despatched,
And we two in friendship are united as one.

AVARICE.
In the same knot with you let me also be matched,
And of money, I warrant you, you shall want none.

HYPOCRISY.
I agree; what say you? shall he be one?

TYRANNY.
I judge him needful in our company to be,
And therefore, for my part, he is welcome to me.

    [HYP. Friendship for gain.]

Let us now speedily on our business attend,
And labour each one to bring it about.

HYPOCRISY.
That is already by me brought to end,
So that of your preferment you need not to doubt;
And my coming hither was to find you out,
That at my elbow you might be in readiness,
To help, if need were, in this weighty business.
To tell you the story it were but too tedious,
How the Pope and I together have devised,
Firstly to inveigle the people religious,
For greediness of gain who will be soon pressed:
And, for fear lest hereafter they should be despised,
Of their own freewill will maintain Hypocrisy,
So that Avarice alone shall conquer the clergy.
Now, of the chiefest of his carnal cardinals
He doth appoint certain, and give them authority
To ride abroad in their pontificals,
To see if with Avarice they may win the laity;
If not, then to threaten them with open Tyranny:
Whereby doubt not but many will forsake
The truth of the gospel, and our parties take.

TYRANNY.
This device is praiseworthy: how say'st thou, Avarice?

AVARICE.
I like it well, if it were put in ure,
Yet little gain to me shall this whole practice,
More than I had before-time, procure.

HYPOCRISY.
The legates are ready to ride, I am sure;
Wherefore we had need to make no small delay:
They stay for my coming alone, I dare say.
Howbeit the laity would greatly mislike,
If they should know all our purpose and intent;
Yea, and perhaps some means they would seek
Our foresaid business in time to prevent.

TYRANNY.
Will you then be ruled by my arbitrament?
Lest the people should suddenly dissolve tranquillity,
For the legate's defence, let him use me Tyranny.

HYPOCRISY.
Herein your counsel is not much unwise,
Save that in one thing we had need to beware:
Lest you be known, we will you disguise,
And some grave apparel for you will prepare;
But your name, Tyranny, I fear all will mar:
Let me alone, and I will invent
A name to your nature, which shall be convenient.
Zeal shall your name be: how like you by that?
And therefore in office you must deal zealously.

TYRANNY.
Let me alone, I will pay them home pat:
Though they call me Zeal, they shall feel me Tyranny.    [_Aside_.

HYPOCRISY.
Lo, here is a garment: come, dress you handsomely.
Ay, marry (quoth he), I like this very well:
Now to the devil's grace you me seem to give counsel.
Now must I apply all my invention,
That I may devise Avarice to hide.
Thy name shall be called Careful Provision,
And every man for his household may lawfully provide:
Thus shalt thou go cloaked, and never be spied.

AVARICE.
Thy counsel, Hypocrisy, I very well allow,
And will recompense thee, if ever I know how.

TYRANNY.
Now on a boon[34] voyage let us depart,
For I [am] well loth any time to delay.

HYPOCRISY.
Nay, yet in sign of a merry heart,
Let us sing before we go away.

AVARICE.
I am content; begin, I you pray;
But to sing the treble, we must needs have one.

HYPOCRISY.
If you say so, let it even alone.

                             [_Exeunt_.




ACT III, SCENE 1.


PHILOLOGUS.
Too true, alas, too true, I say, was our divination,
The which Mathetes did foresee, when last we were in place;
For now indeed we feel the smart and horrible vexation,
Which Romish power unto us did threaten and menace.
Wherefore great need we have to call to God alway for grace;
For feeble flesh is far too weak those pains to undergo,
The which all they that fear the Lord are now appointed to.
The legate from the Pope of Rome is come into our coasts,
Who doth the saints of God each where with tyranny oppress,
And in the same most gloriously himself he vaunt and boast:
The more one mourneth unto him he pitieth the less.
Out of his cruel tyranny the Lord of heaven me bless;
For hitherto in blessed state my whole life I have spent,
With health of body, wealth in goods, and mind alway content.
Besides, of friends I have great store, who do me firmly love:
A faithful wife and children fair, of woods and pasture store,
And divers other things which I have got for my behoof,
Which now to be deprived of would grieve my heart full sore.
And if I come once in their claws. I shall get out no more,
Unless I will renounce my faith, and so their mind fulfil;
Which if I do, without all doubt my soul for aye I spill.
For sith I have received once the first-fruits of my faith,
And have begun to run the course that leadeth to salvation,
If in the midst thereof I stay or cease, the Scripture saith
It booteth not that I began with so good preparation;
But rather maketh much the more unto my condemnation:
For he alone shall have the palm which to the end doth run,
And he which plucks his hand from plough, in heaven shall never come.
Those labourers which hired were in vineyard for to moil,
And had their penny for their pain, they tarried all while night;
For if they ceased had, when sun their flesh with heat did broil,
And had departed from their work, they should have lost by right
Their wages-penny: I likewise shall be deprived quite
Of that same crown, the which I have in faith long looked for.
But for this time I will depart: I dare here stay no more.

                                                       [_Exit_.



ACT III., SCENE 2.


HYPOCRISY.
Ha, ha, ha! marry, now the game begins.
Hypocrisy throughout this realm is had in admiration,
And by my means both Avarice and Tyranny crept in,
Who in short space will make men run the way to desolation.
What did I say? my tongue did trip--I should say, consolation--
For now, forsooth, the clergy must into my bosom creep,
Or else they know not by what means themselves alive to keep.
On the other side the laity, be they either rich or poor--
If rich, then Avarice strangle them, because they will not lose
Their worldly wealth: or else we have one subtle practice more;
That is, that Sensual Suggestion their outward man shall pose,
Who can full finely in each cause his mind to them disclose.
But if that neither of these twain can to my train them win,[35]
Then at his cue to play his part doth Tyranny begin.
As for the poor knaves, such a one as this is,
We do not esteem him, but make short ado.
If he will not come on, we do him not miss,
But to the pot he is sure to go:
Tyranny deals with him and no mo.
But I marvel what doth him from hence so long stay,
Sooner named, sooner come, as common proverbs say.

                                            [_S[t]ep aside_.



ACT III., SCENE 3.


    TYRANNY, AVARICE, HYPOCRISY.

[TYRANNY.]
By his wounds, I fear not, but it is cock sure[36] now.

    [HYP. He hath a goodly grace in swearing.]

Under the legate's seal, in office I am placed:
Therefore whoso resist me, I will make him to bow.
Who can make Tyranny now be disgraced?

    [HYP. He is graceless already.]

With a head of brass I will not be outfaced,
But will execute mine office with extreme cruelty,
So that all men shall know me to be plain Tyranny.

AVARICE.
Nay, Master Zeal, be ruled by me:
To such as resist such rigour you may show.

TYRANNY.
Zeal? nay, no Zeal; my name is Tyranny:
Neither am I ashamed who doth my name know,
For in my dealings the same I will show,

    [HYP. He is Kit Careless.]

None dare reprove me, of that I am sure,
So long as authority on my side endure.
But to thy words a while I will list;
Therefore in brief say on what you will.

AVARICE.
I would have you show rigour to such as resist,
And such as be obstinate spare not to kill;
But those that be willing your hests to fulfil,

    [HYP. Hark the practice of spiteful Sumnors.]

If they offend, and not of obstinacy,
For money excuse them, though they use villany,
Thus shall you perform your office aright,
For favour or money to spare the offendent.

TYRANNY.
So may I also, of malice or spite,
Or rancour of mind,[37] punish the innocent.
But I will be ruled by thine arbitrament,
And will favour such as will my hand grease.
The devil is a good fellow, if one can him please:[38]

    [HYP. And you are one of his sons, methink, by your head.]

But to follow our business great pains we do take;
On an hasty message we were fit to be sent.

HYPOCRISY [_Aside_].
When I lie a-dying, I will you messengers make:
You ply you so fast, you are too-too diligent.
Whoop how, Master Zeal, whither are ye bent?

AVARICE.
Hark! methought one hallooed, and called you by name.

TYRANNY.
I would it were Hypocrisy.

AVARICE.
                           It is the very same.
What, Master Hypocrisy, for you I have sought
This hour or two, but could you not find.

HYPOCRISY.
That is no marvel, it is not for nought,
For I am but little, and you two are blind;
Neither have you eyes to see with behind:
Yet may the learned note herein a mystery,
That neither Tyranny nor Avarice can find out Hypocrisy.
But what earnest business have you in charge,
That with so great speed must presently be finished?

TYRANNY.
Marry, see here.

HYPOCRISY.
What is it?

TYRANNY.
            A commission large
From my Lord Legate himself authorised,
The effect whereof must presently be practised.

HYPOCRISY.
What is the tenure,[39] pray you let me know?

TYRANNY.
Avarice hath read it, not I; let him show.

AVARICE.
He hath firstly in charge to make inquisition,
Whether altars be re-edified, whether chalice and book,
Vestments for mass, sacraments, and procession,
Be prepared again: if not, he must look,
And find out such fellows as these cannot brook,
And to my Lord Legate such merchants present,
That for their offence they may have condign punishment.
If any we take tardy, Tyranny them threat,
That for their negligence he will them present;
And I desirous some money to get,
If ought they will give me, their evil will prevent;
Yea, sometime of purpose such shifts we invent.

HYPOCRISY.
Peace, yonder comes one; methink it is a priest,
By his gown, cap, and tippet made of a list.



ACT III., SCENE 4.


    CACONOS, HYPOCRISY, TYRANNY, AVARICE.

[CACONOS.]
In[40] gude feth, sir, this newis de gar me lope,
Ay is as light as ay me wend, gif that yo wol me troth,
Far new agen within awer loud installed is the Pope,
Whese legat with authority tharawawt awr country goth,
And charge befare him far te com us priests end lemen hath,
Far te spay awt, gif that he mea, these new-sprang arataics,
Whilk de disturb aur hally Kirk, laik a sart of saysmatics.
Awr gilden Gods ar brought ayen intea awr kirks ilkwhare,
That unte tham awr parishioner ma offer thar gude-will.
For hally mass in ilk place new thea autars de prepare,
Hally water, pax, cross, banner, censer and candill,
Cream, crismatory, hally bread, the rest omit ay will,
Whilt hally fathers did invent fre awd antiquity,
Be new received inte awr kirks with great solemnity.
Bay these thaugh lemen been apprest, the clargy all het gean,
Far te awr sents theis affer yifts all whilk we sall receive:
Awr hally mass, thaw thea bay dere, thea de it but in vain,
Far thaw ther frends frea Purgatory te help thea dea believe,
Yet af ther hope, gif need rewhayre,[41] it wawd theam all deceive.
Sea wawd awr pilgrimage, reliques, trentals, and pardons,
Whilk far awr geyn inte awr Kirk ar braught in far the nonce.
Far well a nere what war awr tenths and taythes that gro in fild,
What gif we han of glebed loud ene plawwark bay the year,
Awr affring deas de vara laytell ar nething te us yield:
Awr beadroll geanes, awr chrisom clethes de laytle mend awr fare
Gif awt af this we pea far vale, we laytle mare can spare.
Sawl-masses, diriges, monethmayndes and buryings,
Alsowlnday, kirkings, banasking and weddings.
The sacraments, gif we mowt sell, war better than thea all;
Far gif the Jews gave thratty pence te hang Chraist on a tree,
Gude Christian folk thrayse thratty pence wawd count a price but small;
Sea that te eat him with their teeth delaivered he mawght be.
New of this thing delaiverance ne man can make but we,
Se that the market in this punt we priests sawd han at will,
And with the money we sowd yet awr pooches we sowd fill.

HYPOCRISY.
I will go and salute him: good morrow, Sir John.[42]

CACON.
Naw, bay may priest-hade, God give ye ten far ene.

HYPOCRISY.
Do you, Master Parson, in this parish sing?

CACON.
Yai, sir, that ay de, gif yowl give me trothing.

TYRANNY.
I have a commission your house and church to seek,
To search if you any seditious books do keep.

CACON.
Whe ay? well a near, ay swear bay the Sacrament,
Ay had rather han a cup af nale than a Testament.

HYPOCRISY.
How can you without it your office discharge?

CACON.
It is the least thing ay car far, bay may charge;
Far se lang as thea han images wharon te luke,
What need thea be distructed awt af a buik?

HYPOCRISY.
Tush! that will modify them all well enou':
As well a dead image as a dumb idol, I make God avow.

CACON.
Yai, ay my sen bay experience thot con show;
Far in may portace the tongue ay de nat know,
Yet when ay see the great gilded letter,
Ay ken it sea well, as nea man ken better.
As far example: on the day of Chraist's nativity,
Ay see a bab in a manger and two beasts standing by:
The service whilk to Newyear's-day is assaign'd
Bay the paicture of the circumcision ay faynd:
The service, whilk on Twalfth-day mun be done,
Ay seeke bay the mark of the three kings of Cologne.
Bay the devil tenting Chraist ay find whadragesima:
Bay Chraist on the cross ay serch out gude-fraiday.
Pasch for his mark hath the Resurrection:
Ayenst Hally-Thursday is pented Chraist's ascension:
Thus in mayn own buke ay is a gude clerk;
But gif the sents war gone, the cat had eat my mark.
Se the sandry mairacles, whilk ilk sent have done,
Bay the pictures on the walls sal appear to them soon,
Bay the whilk thea ar learned in every distress,
What sent thea mun prea te far succour, doubtless:
Sea that all lepers to Sylvester must prea,
That he wawd frae tham ther disease take away.
Laykwais, thea that han the falling saickness,
Te be eased therfre thea mun prea to Sent Cornelis:
In contagious air, as in plague or pestilence,
Te hally Sent-Ruke[43] thea mun call far assistance.
Fra paril of drawning Sent Carp keep the mariners:
Fra dayng in warfare Sent George guard the soldiers:
Sent Job heal the poor, the ague Sent German:
For te ease the toothache call te Sent Appolline[44].
Gif that a woman be barren and childless,
Te help her herein she must prea te Sent Nicholas.
Far wemen in travail call to Sent Magdalen;
Far lawliness of mind call to Sent Katherine,
Sent Loy save your horse, Sent Anthony your swine.

TYRANNY.
What! this parson seemeth cunning to be,
And, as far as I see, in a good uniformity.
Yea, he is well read in that Golden Legend.

CACON.
Bay may troth, in reading any other ne taym do I spend,
Far that, ay ken, bay general caunsel is canonised,
And bay the hely Pope himself is authorised:
That buke farther is wholly permitted,
Wharas the Baible in part is prohibited.
And therefore, gif it be lawful to utter my conscience,
Before the New Testament ays give it credence.

HYPOCRISY.
I allow his judgment before Ambrose and Austin,
And for Hypocrisy a more convenient chaplain.

AVARICE.
It grieveth me much that no fault we can spy,
For now of some bribe disappointed am I;
Yet happily he may tell us of some heretics.

TYRANNY.
Is there, Mast. Parson, in your parish no schismatics?

CACON.
Yai, mara, is ther a vara busybody,
Whe will jest with me and call me fule and noddy,
And sets his lads te spout Latin ayenst me,
But ay spose then with _Deparfundis Clam aui_:
And oftentimes he wil reason with me of the Sacarment,
And say he can prove bay the New Testament
That Chraist's body is in heaven placed;
But ays not believe him, ay woll not be awt-faced.
He says besayd that the Pope is Antichraist,
Fugered of John bay the seven-headed beast,
And all awre religion is but mon's invention,
And with God's ward is at utter dissension;
And a plaguy deal mare of sayk layk talk,
That ay dar not far may narse bay his yate walk,
But ay wawd he wer brunt, that ay mawght be whaiet.[45]

TYRANNY.
He must have a cooler; his tongue runs at riot.

AVARICE.
What is his name, Sir John, canst thou tell us?

CACON.
Yai, sir, that ay ken: he is cleped Phailelegoos.

TYRANNY.
Wilt thou go show his house, where he dwell?

CACON.
Yai, or els ay wawd may sawl war in hell.
Te de him a pleasure ay wawd gang a whole year,
Gif it war but te make him a fadock[46] te bear.

TYRANNY.
Go with us, Avarice, and bear us company.

AVARICE.
Nay, if you go hence, I will not here tarry.

HYPOCRISY.
Away, sirs: in your business in a corner do not lurk,
That my Lord Legate, when he comes, may have work.

TYRANNY.
Come on: let us go together, Sir John.

CACON.
Ay sall follow after. God boy, you good gentleman.

HYPOCRISY [_Aside_.]
Farewell three false knaves as between this and London!

TYRANNY.
What say'st thou?

HYPOCRISY.
As honest men as the three Kings of Cologne.

                         [_Exeunt_ TYR. AVA. CACON.

This gear goes round, if that we had a fiddle:
Nay, I must sing too, _heigh, dery, dery, dery_.
I can do but laugh, my heart is so merry:
I will be minstrel myself, _heigh, didle, didle, didle_;
But lay there a straw I began to be weary.
But hark; I hear a trampling of feet.
It is my Lord Legate; I will him go meet.




ACT IV., SCENE I.


    CAR[DINAL]. HYP. AVA. TYR. PHILO.

[CARDINAL.]
Go to, Master Zeal,[47] bring forth that heretic,
Which doth thus disturb our religion catholic.

HYPOCRISY.
Room for my lord's grace! what! no manner reverence,
But cap on head, Hodge, and that in a lord's presence?

CARDINAL.
What, Master Hypocrisy, I have stayed for you long.

HYPOCRISY [_Aside_].
You were best crowd in, and play us among.

CARDINAL.
Where have you been from me so long absent?
I appointed to have been here three hours ago,
In my consistory to have sat in judgment
Of that wretched schismatic that doth trouble us so.

HYPOCRISY.
What, have you caught but one, and no mo?
In faith, father Avarice, you have plied your chaps well.

AVARICE.
I must needs confess that I am paid for my travail.

TYRANNY.
Room for the prisoner! what, room on each hand,
Or I shall make some out of the way for to stand.
Lo, here, my lord, is that seditious schismatic,
That we have laid wait for, an arrant heretic.

    [_Enter_ PHILOLOGUS.]

CARDINAL.
Sit down, Master Hypocrisy, to yield me assistance.

HYPOCRISY.
I thank your lordship for your courteous benevolence.
I will be the noddy--I should say the notary,
To write before my Lord Legate, which is commissary.

CARDINAL.
Ah, sirrah! be you he that doth thus disturb
The whole estate of our faith catholic?
Art thou so expert in God's laws and word,
That no man may learn thee, thou arrant heretic?
But this is the nature of every schismatic:
Be his errors never so false doctrine,
He will say by God's word he dare it examine.

PHILOLOGUS.
With humble submission to your authority,
I pardon crave, if ought amiss I say;
For being thus set in peril and extremity,
To me unacquainted, my tongue soon trip may:
Wherefore excuse me, I do your lordship pray,
And I will answer to every demand,
According to my conscience, God's word being my warrant.

CARDINAL.
To begin therefore orderly: how say'st thou, Philologus,
Have I authority to call thee me before?
Or, to be short, I will object it thus:
Whether hath the Pope, which is Peter's successor,
Than all other bishops preheminence more?
If not, then it follow that neither he,
Nor I which am his legate, to accompts may call thee.

PHILOLOGUS.
The question is perilous for me to determine,
Chiefly when the party is judge in the cause;
Yet, if the whole course of Scripture ye examine,
And will be tried by God's holy laws,
Small help shall you find to defend the same cause,
But the contrary may be proved manifestly,
As I in short words will prove to you briefly.
The surest ground, whereon your Pope doth stand,
Is of Peter's being at Rome a strong imagination,
And the same Peter, you do understand,
Of all the disciples had the gubernation,
Surmising both without good approbation,
Unless you will by the name of Babylon,
From whence Peter wrote, is understanded Rome.
As indeed divers of your writers have affirmed,
Reciting Jerome, Austin, Primatius, and Ambrose,
Who by their several writings have confirmed
That Rome is New Babylon: I may it not glose.
But it were better for you they were dumb, I suppose,
For they labour to prove Rome by that acception
The whore of Babylon, spoke of in the Revelation.
But grant that Peter in Rome settled was,
Yet that he was chief it remains you to prove;
For in my judgment it is a plain case,
That if any amongst them to rule it did behove,
He should be the chief, whom Christ most did love;
To whom he bequeathed his mother most dear,
To whom in revelation Christ did also appear.
I mean John Evangelist (by birth) cousin-german
To our Saviour Christ, as stories do us tell:
From whose succession if that you should claim
Superiority, you should mend your cause well,
For then of some likelihood of truth it should smell,
Where none so often as Peter was reproved,
Nor from steadfast faith so oftentimes removed.
But grant all were true herein you do feign,
Mark one proper lesson of a Greek orator:
As a good child of his father's wealth is inheritor,
So of his father's virtues he must be possessor.
Now Peter follows Christ, and all worldly goods forsakes;
But the Pope leaveth Christ, and himself to glory takes.
And to be short, Christ himself refused to be a king,
And the servant above the master may not be;
Which being both true, it is a strange thing,
How the Pope can receive this pomp and dignity,
And yet profess himself Christ's servant to be.
Christ will be no king, the Pope will be more:
The Pope is Christ's master, not his servant, therefore.

CARDINAL.
Ah, thou arrant heretic! I will thee remember.
I am glad I know so much as I do:
I have weighed thy reasons, and have found them so slender,
That I think them not worthy to be answered [to].[48]
How say you, Master Hypocrisy?

HYPOCRISY.
                               I also think so;
But let him go forward and utter his conscience,
And we will a while longer hear him with patience.

CARDINAL.
Say on, thou heretic: of the holy Sacrament;
Of the body and blood of Christ, what is thine opinion?

PHILOLOGUS.
I have not yet finished my former argument.

CARDINAL.
Say on, as I bid thee: thou art a stout minion.

PHILOLOGUS.
I shall then gladly: it is a sign of union,
The which should remain us Christians among,
That one should love another all our life long.
For as the bread is of many cornels compounded,
And the wine from the juice of many grapes do descend,
So we, which into Christ our Rock are ingrounded,
As into one temple, should cease to contend,
Lest by our contention the Church we offend.
This was not the least cause, among many more,
Which are now omitted, that this Sacrament was given for.
The chiefest cause why this Sacrament was ordained,
Was the infirmity of our outward man;
Whereas salvation to all men was proclaimed,
That with true faith apprehend the same can,
By the death of Jesus Christ, that immaculate Lamb;
That the same might the rather of all men be believed,
To the word to add a Sacrament it Christ nothing grieved.
And as we the sooner believe that thing true,
For the trial whereof more witnesses we find,
So by the means of the Sacrament many grew
Believing creatures, where before they were blind;
For our senses some savour of our faith now do find,
Because in the Sacrament there is this analogy,
That Christ feeds our souls, as the bread doth our body.

CARDINAL.
Ah, thou foul heretic! is there bread in the Sacrament?
Where is Christ's body, then, which he did us give?

PHILOLOGUS.
I know to the faithful receiver it is there present,
But yet the bread remaineth still, I steadfastly believe.

CARDINAL.
To hear these his errors it doth me greatly grieve:
But that we may shortly to some issue come,
In what sense said Christ, _Hoc est corpus meum_?

PHILOLOGUS.
Even in the same sense that he said before:
_Vos estis sal terrae, Vos estis lux mundi,
Ego sum ostium_, and a hundred such more,
If time would permit to allege them severally;
But that I may the simple sort edify,
You ask me in what sense these words I verify,
Where Christ of the bread said, "This is my body."
For answer herein I ask you this question:
Were Christ's disciples into salt transformed
When he said, "Ye are the salt of the earth every one,"
Or when the light of the world he them affirmed?
Or himself to be a door when he confirmed?
Or to be a vine, did his body then change?
If not then, why now? this to me seemeth strange.

CARDINAL.
Why, dost thou doubt of Christ his omnipotency,
But what so he willeth doth so come to pass?

PHILOLOGUS.
God keep me and all men from such a frenzy,
As to think anything Christ's power to surpass,
When his will to his power joined was;
But where his will wanteth, his power is ineffectual:
As Christ can be no liar, God cannot be mortal.
Set down therefore some proof of his will
That he would be made bread, and then I recant.

CARDINAL.
This caitiff mine ears with wind he doth fill:
His words both truth and reason doth want.
Christ's word is his will; this must thou needs grant.

PHILOLOGUS.
He spake the word likewise, when he said, "I am the door,"
Was his body transformed into timber therefore?

CARDINAL.
Nay, if thou beest obstinate, I will say no more.
Have him hence to prison, and keep him full sure:
I will make him set by my friendship more store.
But hearest thou, Zeal? go first and procure
Some kind of new torment which he may not endure.

TYRANNY.
I am here in readiness to do your commandment,
And will return hither again incontinent.

HYPOCRISY.
At thy return bring hither Sensual Suggestion,
That, if need be, he may us assist,
Lest that both I and Careful Provision
The zeal of Philologus may not fully resist;
But he in his obstinacy doth still persist:
To put him to death would accuse us of tyranny;
But if we could win him, he should do us much honesty.

TYRANNY.
I hear you, and will fulfil your words speedily.
                                          [_Exit_ TYRANNY.

HYPOCRISY.
Good Master Philologus, I pity your case,
To see you so foolish yourself to undo:
I durst yet promise to purchase you grace,
If you would, at length, your errors forego.
Therefore, I pray you, be not your own foe.

PHILOLOGUS.
Call you those errors which the gospel defends?
I know not, then, whence true d[o]ctrine descends.

CARDINAL.
Nay, Master Hypocrisy, you spend time in vain
To reason with him: he will not be removed.

AVARICE.
Had I so much to live by, as he hath certain,
I would not lose that which I so well loved.

CARDINAL.
He stands in his reputation: he will not be reproved;
And that is the cause that he is so obstinate:
[_To Phil_.] But I shall well enough thy courage abate.

PHILOLOGUS.
I humbly beseech you of Christian charity,
You seek not of purpose my blood for to spill;
For if I have displeased your authority,
In reasonable causes redress it I will:
But in this respect I fear I should kill
My soul for ever, if against my conscience
I should to the Pope's laws acknowledge obedience.

HYPOCRISY.
Cease from those words, if your safety you love:
As though no man had a soul more than you.
Such nips, perchance, my lord's patience will move;
Then would you please him, if that you wist how.
But if you will be ruled by my honesty, I vow
I will do the best herein that I can,
Because you seem to be a good gentleman.

AVARICE.
Were it not better for you to live at ease,
And spend that merrily which earst you have got,
Than by your own folly yourself to disease,
And bring you to trouble, which other men seek not?

HYPOCRISY.
In faith, Philologus, your zeal is too hot,
Which will not be quench'd, but with your heart-blood;
If I were so zealous, I would think myself wood.

CARDINAL.
Tush! it will not be: he thinks we do but jest.
Wherefore, that some trial of my mind he may have,
That Careful Provision should go I think best
Into the town, and there assistance crave,
His house for to enter, and his goods for me save:
Lest when his wife know that they be confiscate,
Into other men's keeping the same she doth dissipate.

HYPOCRISY.
You speak very wisely in my simple judgment:
Therefore you were best to send him away.

CARDINAL.
Go to, Careful Provision, depart incontinent,
And fulfil the words which I to you say.

AVARICE.
Of pardon herein I do your lordship pray.
You doubt not, I trust, of my willing mind,
Which herein is most ready, you always shall find:
For who is more ready by fraud to purloin
Other men's goods than I am each where?
But lest some man at me should chance to foin,
And kill me at once, I greatly do fear.
I had rather persuade him his folly to forbear.

CARDINAL.
Prove then, if thou canst do him any good:
He shall not say that we seek his blood.

AVARICE.
Ah, Master Philologus! you see your own case,
That both life and goods are in my lord's will:
Therefore you were best to sue for some grace,
And be content his words to fulfil.
If you neglect this, hence straightway I will,
And all your goods I will sure confiscate:
Then will you repent it, when it is too late.

PHILOLOGUS.
My case indeed I see most miserable,
As was Susanna betwixt two evils placed;
Either to consent to sin most abhominable,
Or else in the world's sight to be utterly disgraced;
But as she her chastity at that time embraced,
So will I now spiritual whoredom resist,
And keep me a true virgin to my loving spouse Christ.

AVARICE.
Wilt thou then neglect the provision of thy household?
Thou art therefore worse than an infidel is.

PHILOLOGUS.
That you abuse God's word, to say I dare be bold,
And the saying of Paul you interpret amiss.

CARDINAL.
I never saw the like heretic that this is.
Away, Careful Provision, about your business.

AVARICE.
Sith there is no remedy, I am here in readiness.
                                           [_Exit_ AVARICE.
PHILOLOGUS.
I beseech your lordship, even from the heart-root,
That you would vouchsafe, for my contentation,
To approve unto me by God's holy book
Some one of the questions of our disputation:
For I will hear you with heart's delectation,
Because I would gladly to your doctrine consent,
If that I could so my conscience content.
But my conscience crieth out, and bids me take heed
To love my Lord God above all earthly gain;
Whereby all this while I stand in great dread,
That if I should God's statutes disdain,
In wretched state then I should remain.
Thus crieth my conscience to me continually,
Which if you can stay, I will yield to you gladly.

CARDINAL.
I can say no more than I have done already.
Thou heardest that I called thee heretic and fool:
If thou wilt not consent to me, and that speedily,
With a new master thou shalt go to school.

HYPOCRISY.
Thou hast no more wit, I see, than this stool,
Far unfit to dispute and reason with my lord:
He can subdue thee with fire and sword quite with one word.

TYRANNY.[49]
Come follow apace, Sensual Suggestion,
Or else I will leave you to come all alone.

SUGGESTION.
You go in haste, you make expedition:
Nay, if you run so fast, I will none.
This little journey will make me to groan.
I use not to trouble myself in this wise,
And now to begin I do not advise.

TYRANNY.
Have I not plied me, which am come again so soon,
And yet have finished such sundry business?
I have caused many pretty toys to be done,
So that now I have each thing in readiness.

CARDINAL.
What, Master Zeal, you are praiseworthy, doubtless.
Art thou prepared this gentleman to receive?
He will roast a fagot, or else he me deceive.

TYRANNY.
In simple manner I will him entertain,
Yet must he take it all in good part;
And though his diet be small, he may not disdain,
Nor yet contemn the kindness of my heart:
For though I lack instruments to put him to smart,
Yet shall he abide in a hellish black dungeon:
As for blocks, stocks, and irons, I warrant him want none.

HYPOCRISY.
Well, farewell Philologus, you hear of your lodging.
I would yet do you good, if that I wist how.

CARDINAL.
Let him go, Hypocrisy; stand not all day dodging:
You have done too much for him, I make God avow.

HYPOCRISY.
Stay; for Suggestion doth come yonder now.
Come on, lazy lubber, you make but small haste:
Had you stayed a while longer, your coming had been waste.

SUGGESTION.
You know of myself I am not very quick,
Because that my body I do so much tender;
For Sensual Suggestion will quickly be sick,
If that his own ease he should not remember.
Thus one cause of my tarriance to you I do render:
Another I had as I came by the way,
Which did me the longer from your company stay.

HYPOCRISY.
What was that, Suggestion? I pray thee to us utter,
For I am with child, till that I do it hear.

SUGGESTION.
A certain gentlewoman did murmur and mutter,
And for grief of mind her hair she did tear:
She will at last kill herself, I greatly do fear.

HYPOCRISY.
What is the cause why this grief she did take?

SUGGESTION.
Because her husband her company did forsake.
Her children also about her did stand,
Sobbing and sighing, and made lamentation,
Knocking their breasts, and wringing their hand,
Saying they are brought to utter desolation
By the means of their father's wilful protestation;
Whose goods, they say, are already confiscate,
Because he doth the Pope's laws violate.
And indeed I saw Avarice standing at the door,
And a company of ruffians assisting him there.

PHILOLOGUS.
Alas, alas! this pincheth my heart full sore.
Mine evils he doth declare, mine own woe I do hear,
Wherefore from tears I cannot forbear.

HYPOCRISY.
Ha, ha! doth this touch you, Master Philologus?
You need not have had it, being rul'd by us.

SUGGESTION.
Why, what is he thus, Master Hypocrisy,
That taketh such sorrow at the words which I spake?

HYPOCRISY.
One that is taken and convinced of heresy,[50]
And, I fear me much, will burn at a stake:
Yet to reclaim him much pains would I take,
And have done already, howbeit in vain.
I would crave thine assistance, were it not to thy pain.

SUGGESTION.
I will do the best herein that I can:
Yet go thou with me to help at a need.
[_To Phil_.] With all my heart, God save you, good gentleman,
To see your great sorrow my heart doth wellnigh bleed.
But what is the cause of your trouble and dread?
Disdain not to me your secret to tell:
A wise man sometime of a fool may take counsel.

PHILOLOGUS.
Mine estate, alas! is now most lamentable,
For I am but dead, whichever side I take:
Neither to determine herein am I able,
With good advice mine election to make,
The worse to refuse, and the best for to take:
My spirit covets the one; but alas! since your presence,
My flesh leads my spirit therefro by violence.
For at this time, I being in great extremity,
Either my Lord God in heart to reject,
Or else to be oppressed by the legate's authority,
And in this world to be counted an abject,
My lands, wife, and children also to neglect:
This later part to take my spirit is in readiness,
But my flesh doth subdue my spirit doubtless.

SUGGESTION.
Your estate, perhaps, seemeth to you dangerous,
The rather because you have not been used
To incur beforetime such troubles perilous,
But to your power such evils have refused:
Howbeit, of two evils the least must be choosed:
Now which is the least evil, we will shortly examine,
That which part to take yourself may determine.
On the right hand, you say, you see God's just judgment,
His wrath and displeasure on you for to fall,
And instead of the joys of heaven ever permanent,
You see for your stipend the torments infernal.

PHILOLOGUS.
That is it indeed which I fear most of all;
For Christ said: fear not them which the body can annoy,
But fear him which the body and soul can destroy.

SUGGESTION.
Well, let that lie aside awhile as it is,
And on the other side make the like inquisition:
If on the left side you fall, then shall you not miss
But to bring your body to utter perdition;
For at man's hand, you know, there is no remission.
Beside, your children fatherless, your wife desolate,
Your goods and possessions to other men confiscate.

PHILOLOGUS.
Saint Paul to the Romans hath this worthy sentence:
I accompt the afflictions of this world transitory,
Be they never so many, in full equivalence
Cannot countervail those heavenly glory,
Which we shall have through Christ his propitiatory.
I also accompt the rebukes of our Saviour
Greater gains to me than this house full of treasure.

SUGGESTION.
You have spoken reasonably; but yet, as they say,
One bird in the hand is worth two in the bush;
So you, now enjoying these worldly joys, may
Esteem the other as light as a rush:
Thus may you 'scape this perilous push.

PHILOLOGUS.
Yea, but my salvation to me is most certain;
Neither doubt I that I shall suffer this in vain.

SUGGESTION.
Is your death meritorious, then, in God's sight,
That you are so sure to attain to salvation?

PHILOLOGUS.
I do not think so; but my faith is full pight
In the mercies of God, by Christ's mediation;
By whom I am sure of my preservation.

SUGGESTION.
Then to the faithful no hurt can accrue,
But what so he worketh, good end shall ensue.

PHILOLOGUS.
Our Saviour Christ did say to the tempter,
When he did persuade him from the pinnacle to fall,
And said, he might safely that danger adventure,
Because that God's angels from hurt him save shall:
See that thy Lord God thou tempt not at all.
So I, though persuaded of my sins' free remission,
May not commit sin upon this presumption.

CARDINAL.
What, have you not yet done your foolish tattling
With that froward heretic! I will then away:
If you will tarry to hear all his prattling,
He would surely keep you most part of the day.
It is now high dinner-time, my stomach doth say;
And I will not lose one meal of my diet,
Though thereon did hang an hundred men's quiet.

SUGGESTION.
By your lordship's patience, one word with him more,
And then, if he will not, I give him to Tyranny.

HYPOCRISY.
I never saw my lord so patient before,
To suffe[r] one to speak for himself so quietly;
But you were not best to trust to his courtesy:
It is evil waking of a dog that doth sleep.
While you have his friendship, you were best it to keep.

CARDINAL.
I promise thee, Philologus, by my vowed chastity,
If thou wilt be ruled by thy friends that be here,
Thou shalt abound in wealth and prosperity,
And in the country chief rule thou shalt bear,
And a hundred pounds more thou shalt have in the year.
If thou will this courtesy refuse,
Thou shalt die incontinent: the one of these choose.

SUGGESTION.
Well, sith it is no time for us to debate
In formal[51] manner what is in my mind,
I will at once to thee straight demonstrate
Those worldly joys which here thou shalt find.
And for because thou art partly blind,
In this respect look through this mirror,
And thou shalt behold an unspeakable pleasure.
                                     [_Shows him a mirror_.

PHILOLOGUS.
O peerless pleasures, O joys unspeakable,
O worldly wealth, O palaces gorgeous,
O fair children, O wife most amiable;
O pleasant pastime, O pomp so glorious,
O delicate diet, O life lascivious;
O dolorous death which would me betray,
And my felicity from me take away!
I am fully resolved without further demur[52]
In these delights to take my whole solace;
And what pain soever hereby I incur,
Whether heaven or hell, whether God's wrath or grace,
This glass of delight I will ever embrace.
But one thing most chiefly doth trouble me here:
My neighbours inconstant will compt me, I fear.

HYPOCRISY.
He that will seek each man to content
Shall prove himself at last most unwise.
Yourself to save harmless think it sufficient,
And weight not the people's clamorous outcries.
Yet their mouths to stop I can soon devise:
Say that the reading of the works of St Self-love
And Doctor Ambition did your errors remove.
And hark in thine[53] ear, delay no more time:
The sooner the better in end you will say.
[_Aside_.] We have now caught him as bird is in lime.[54]

TYRANNY.
Come on, sirs; have ye done? I would fain away.

HYPOCRISY.
Go even when you will, we do you not stay.
Philologus hath drunk such a draught of hypocrisy,
That he minds not to die yet; he will master this malady.

CARDINAL.
Come on, Master Philologus: are you grown to a stay?
I am glad to hear that you become tractable.

PHILOLOGUS.
If it please your lordship, I say even what you say,
And confess your religion to be most allowable.
Neither will I gainsay your customs laudable:
My former follies I utterly renounce;
That myself was an heretic, I do here pronounce.

CARDINAL.
Nay, Master Philologus, go with me to my palace,
And I shall set down the form of recantation,
Which you shall read on Sunday next in open place.
This done, you shall satisfy our expectation,
And shall be set free from all molestation:
Into the bosom of the Church we will you take,
And some high officer therein will you make.

PHILOLOGUS.
I must first request your lordship's favour,
That I may go home my wife for to see,
And I will attend on you within this hour.

CARDINAL.
Nay, I may not suffer you alone to go free,
Unless one of these your surety will be.

SUGGESTION.
I, Sensual Suggestion, for him will undertake.

CARDINAL.
Very well, take him to you: your prisoner I him make.
Come you, Master Hypocrisy, and bear me company,
Or else I am sure no meat I should eat;
And go before, Zeal, to see each thing ready,
That, when we once come, we stay not for meat.

HYPOCRISY.
With small suit hereto you shall me intreat.

                                    [_Exit_ TYRANNY.

CARDINAL.
Farewell, Philologus, and make small delay:
Perhaps of our dinners for you I will stay.

                 [_Exeunt_ CARDINAL _and_ HYPOCRISY.

SUGGESTION.
Had not you been a wise man, yourself to have lost,
And brought your whole family to wretched estate!
Where now of your blessedness yourself you may boast,
And of all the country accompt yourself fortunate.

PHILOLOGUS.
Such was the wit of my foolish pate.
But what do we stay so long in this place?
I shall not be well, whilst I am with my Lord's grace.

                                                 [_Exeunt_.



ACT IV. SCENE 4.


    SPIRIT, PHILOLOGUS, SUGGESTION.

[SPIRIT.]
Philologus, Philologus, Philologus, I say,
In time take heed, go not too far, look well thy steps unto:
Let not suggestion of thy flesh thy conscience thee betray,
Who doth conduct thee in the path that leadeth to all woe.
Weigh well this warning given from God, before thou further go,
And sell not everlasting joy for pleasures temporal,
From which thou soon shalt go, or they from thee bereaved shall.

PHILOLOGUS.
Alas! what voice is this I hear, so dolefully to sound
Into mine ears, and warneth me in time yet to beware?
Why, have not I the pleasant path of worldly pleasures found?
To walk therein for my delight no man shall me debar.

SUGGESTION.
Look in this glass, Philologus: for nought else do thou care.
What dost thou see within the same? is not the coast all clear?

PHILOLOGUS.
Nought else but pleasure, pomp and wealth herein to me appear.

SUGGESTION.
Give me thy hand: I will be guide, and lead thee in the way.
What, dost thou shrink, Philologus, where I dare go before?

SPIRIT.
Yea, shrink so still, Philologus; in time turn back, I say:
In Sensual Suggestion's steps see that thou tread no more;
And though the frailty of the flesh hath made thee fall full sore,
And to deny with outward lips thy Lord and God most dear,
The same to 'stablish with consent of conscience stand in fear.
Thou art yet free, Philologus; all torments thou may'st 'scape,
Only the pleasures of the world thou shalt awhile forbear.
Renounce thy crime, and sue for grace, and do not captivate
Thy conscience unto mortal sin: the yoke of Christ do bear.
Shut up these words within thy breast, which sound so in thine ear:
The outward man hath caused thee this enterprise to take;
Beware lest wickedness of spirit the same do perfect make.

PHILOLOGUS.
My heart doth tremble for distress; my conscience pricks me sore,
And bids me cease that course in time, which I would gladly run.
The wrath of God, it doth me tell, doth stand my face before:
Wherefore I hold it best to cease that race I have begun.

SUGGESTION.
These are but fancies certainly; for this way thou shalt shun
All worldly woes: look in thy glass and tell me what it show.
Thou wilt not credit other men before thyself, I trow.

PHILOLOGUS.
O gladsome glass, O mirror bright, O crystal clear as sun,
The joys cannot be uttered which herein I behold!
Wherefore I will not thee forsake, what evil soever come.

SPIRIT.
If needs thou wilt thyself undo, say not but thou art told.

PHILOLOGUS.
Hap what hap will, I will not lose these pleasures manifold.
Wherefore conduct me once again: here, take me by the hand.

SUGGESTION.
That Sensual Suggestion doth lead him, understand.



ACT IV., SCENE 5.[55]


    CONSCIENCE, PHILOLOGUS, SUGGESTION.

[CONSCIENCE.]
Alas, alas! thou woful wight, what fury doth thee move
So willingly to cast thyself into consuming fire?
What Circe hath bewitched thee thy worldly wealth to love
More than the blessed state of Soul, this one thing I desire?
Weigh well the cause with sincere heart, thy conscience thee require,
And sell not everlasting joys for pleasures temporal.[56]
Resist Suggestion of the flesh, who seeks thee for to spoil;
From which thou soon shalt go, or they from thee bereaved shall,
And take from thee, which God elect, true everlasting soil.
See where confusion doth attend to catch thee in his snare,
Whose hands, if that thou goest on still, thou shalt no way eschew.

PHILOLOGUS.
What wight art thou, which for my health dost take such earnest care?

CONSCIENCE.
Thy crazed conscience, which foresee the plagues and torments due,
Which from just Judge, whom thou denyest, shall by and by ensue.

SUGGESTION.
Thou hast good trial of the faith which I to thee do bear:
Commit thy safety to my charge; there is no danger near.

CONSCIENCE.
Such is the blindness of the flesh, that it may not descry
Or see the perils which the soul is ready to incur;
And much the less our own estates we can ourselves espy,
Because Suggestion in our hearts such, fancies often stir:
Whereby to worldly vanities we cleave as fast as burr,
Esteeming them with heavenly joys in goodness comparable,
Yet be they mostly very pricks to sin abhominable.
For proof we need no further go than to this present man,
Who by the blessing of the Lord of riches having store,
When with his heart to fancy them this worldling once began,
And had this glass of vanities espied his eyes before,
He God forsook, whereas he ought have loved him the more;
And chooseth rather with his goods to be thrown down to hell,
Than by refusing of the same with God in heaven to dwell.

SUGGESTION.
Nay, hark, Philologus, how thy Conscience can teach,
And would detain thee with glosings untrue:
But hearest thou, Conscience, thou mayest long enough preach,
Ere words, from whence reason or truth none ensue,
Shall make Philologus to bid me adieu.
What, shall there no rich man dwell in God's kingdom?
Where, then, is Abraham, Job, and David become?

CONSCIENCE.
I speak not largely of all them which have this worldly wealth,
For why I know that riches are the creatures of the Lord;
Which of themselves are good each one, as Solomon us telleth,
And are appointed to do good withal by God's own word;
But when they let us from the Lord, then ought they be abhorr'd:
Which caused Christ himself to say, that with much lesser pain
Should camel pass through needle's eye, than rich men heaven obtain.
Hereby rich men Christ did not mean each one which wealth enjoy,
But those which fast'ned have their love upon this worldly dust;
Wherefore another cries and saith, O death, how great annoy
Dost thou procure unto that man, which in his goods doth trust.
That thou dost this, Philologus, thou needs acknowledge must;
Whereby each one may easily see, thou takest more delight
In mundane joys, than thou esteemest to be with angels bright.

PHILOLOGUS.
This toucheth the quick: I feel the wound, which if thou canst not cure,
As maimed in limbs I must retire; I can no further go.

SUGGESTION.
This is the grief which Conscience takes against thee, I am sure,
Because thou usest those delights which Conscience may not do;
And therefore he persuadeth thee to leave the same also,
As did the fox which, caught in snare and scap'd with loss of tail,
To cut off theirs, as burthenous, did all the rest counsel.

CONSCIENCE.
Indeed I cannot use those fond and foolish vanities,
In which the outward part of man doth take so great delight:
No, neither would I, though to me were given that liberty,
But rather would consume them all to nought, if that I might;
For if I should delight therein, it were as good a sight,
As if a man of perfect age should ride upon a stick,
Or play with compters in the street, which pastime children like.
But all my joys in heaven remains, whereas I long to be;
And so wouldst thou, if that on Christ thy faith full fast'ned were:
For that affection was in Paul the apostle, we may see,
The first to the Philippians doth witness herein bear.
His words be these: O would to God dissolved that I were,
And were with Christ: another place his mind in those words tell;
We are but strangers all from God, while in this world we dwell.
Now, mark how far from his request dissenting in thy mind,
He wish'd for death, but more than hell thou dost the same detest.

SUGGESTION.
The cause why Paul did loath his life may easily be assign'd,
Because the Jews in every place did seek him to molest:
But those which in this world obtain security and rest,
Do take delight to live therein; yea, nature doth endue
Each living creature with a fear, lest death should them accrue.
Yea, the same Paul at Antioch dissembled to be dead,
While they were gone who sought his life with stones for to destroy.
Elias for to save his life to Horeb likewise fled,
So did King David flee, when Saul did seek him to annoy:
Yea, Christ himself, whom in our deeds to follow we may joy,
Did secretly convey himself from Jews so full of hate,
When they thought from the top of hill him to precipitate.
Wherefore it is no sin at all a man for to defend,
And keep himself from death, so long as nature gives him leave.

CONSCIENCE.
The same whom you recited have conceived a further end,
Than to themselves to live alone, as each man may perceive;
For when that Paul had run his course, he did at last receive
With heart's consent the final death which was him put unto.
So when Christ had performed his work, he did death undergo:
And would to God, thou wouldest do that, which these men were content;
For they despised worldly pomp; their flesh they did subdue;
And brought it under, that to spirit it mostly did consent:
Whereby they, seeking God to please, did bid the world adieu,
Wife, children and possessions forsaking; for they knew
That everlasting treasures were appointed them at last,
The which they thirsting did from them all worldly pleasures cast.
But thou, O wretch, dost life prolong, not that thou wouldst God's name,
As duty binds us all to do, most chiefly glorify,
But rather by thy living still wilt God's renown defame,
And more and more dishonour him: this is thy drift, I spy.

PHILOLOGUS.
I mean to live in worldly joys; I can it not deny.

CONSCIENCE.
What are those joys, which thou dost mean, but pleasures strange from God?
By using of the which thou shalt provoke his heavy rod.

SUGGESTION.
Tush! knowest thou what, Philologus, be wise thyself unto,
And listen not to those fond words which Conscience to thee tell.
For thy defence I will allege one worthy lesson mo,
Unto the which I am right sure he cannot answer well:
When David by vain trust in men of war from God sore fell,
And was appointed of three plagues the easiest for to choose,
He said: God's mercy easier is to get than man's, as I suppose.
Again, he sayeth among the Psalms: it better is to trust
In God, than that our confidence we settle should in man.
Wherefore to this which I now say of force consent thou must;
That when two evils, before us placed, no way avoid we can,
Into the hand of God to fall by choice is lawful then,
Because that God is merciful, when man no mercy show.
Thus have I pleaded in this cause sufficiently, I trow.

CONSCIENCE.
How can you say you trust in God whenas you him forsake,
And of the wicked Mammon here do make your feigned friend?
No, no; these words which you recite against you mostly make,
For thus he thinks in his distress: God cannot me defend,
And therefore by Suggestion frail to man's help he hath lean'd.
Mark who say truth, of him or me, and do him best believe.

PHILOLOGUS.
I like thy words, but that to lose these joys it would me grieve.

CONSCIENCE.
And where Suggestion telleth thee, that God in mercies flow,
Yet is he just sins to correct, and true in that he speak;
Wherefore he sayeth: whoso my name before men shall not know,
I shall not know him, when as judge I shall sit in my seat.
This if you call to mind, it will your proud presumption break.
Again he sayeth, whoso his life or goods will seek to save,
Shall lose them all; but who for Christ will lose them, gain shall have.

SUGGESTION.
What, did not Peter Christ deny, yet mercy did obtain,
Where, if he had not, of the Jews he should have tasted death?

PHILOLOGUS.
Even so shall I in tract of time with bitter tears complain.

SUGGESTION.
Yea, time enough, though thou deferr'st until thy latest breath.

CONSCIENCE.
So sayeth Suggestion unto thee; but Conscience it denyeth,
And in the end what so I say for truth thou shalt espy,
And that most false which Conscience shall in secret heart deny.

PHILOLOGUS.
Ah, wretched man! what shall I do? which do so plainly see
My flesh and spirit to contend, and that in no small thing,
But as concerning the event of extreme misery;
Which either study to avoid, or else upon me bring:
And which of them I should best trust, it is a doubtful thing.
My Conscience speaketh truth, methink; but yet because I fear
By his advice to suffer death, I do his words forbear.
And therefore pacify thyself, and do not so torment
Thyself in vain: I must seek some means for to eschew
These griping griefs, which unto me I see now imminent;
And therefore will no longer stay, but bid thee now adieu.

CONSCIENCE.
O, stay, I say, Philologus, or else thou wilt it rue!

PHILOLOGUS.
It is lost labour that thou dost: I will be at a point,
And to enjoy these worldly joys I jeopard will a joint.

                         [_Exit_ PHILOLOGUS _and_ SUGGESTION.

CONSCIENCE.
O cursed creature, O frail flesh, O meat for worms, O dust,
O blather puffed full of wind, O vainer than these all!
What cause hast thou in thine own wit to have so great a trust,
Which of thyself canst not espy the evils which on thee fall?
The blindness of the outward man Philologus show shall,
At his return unless I can at last make him relent;
For why the Lord him to correct in furious wrath is bent.

                                             [_Exit_ CONSCIENCIA.



ACT V., SCENE 3.


HYPOCRISY.
Such chopping cheer as we have made, the like hath not been seen.
And who so pleasant with my lord as is Philologus?
His recantation he hath made, and is despatched clean
Of all the griefs which unto him did seem so dangerous:
Which thing, you know, was brought to pass especially by us,
So that Hypocrisy hath done that which Satan did intend,
That men for worldly wealth should cease the gospel to defend.
What shall become of foolish goose, I mean Philologus,
In actual manner to your eyes shall represented be;
For though as now he seems to be in state most glorious,
He shall not long continue so, each one of you shall see.
But needs I must be packing hence: my fellows stay for me.
Shake hands, before we do depart; you shall see me no more;
And though Hypocrisy go away, of hypocrites here is good store.

                                              [_Exit_ HYPOCRISY.



ACT V., SCENE 4.


    PHILOLOGUS, GISBERTUS, PAPHINITIUS.

[PHILOLOGUS.]
Come on, my children dear, to me, and let us talk awhile
Of worldly goods, which I have got, and of my pleasant state
Which fortune hath installed me, who on me cheerly smile,
So that unto the top of wheel she doth me elevate.
I have escaped all mishaps of which my Conscience did prate,
And where before I ruled was, as is the common sort,
Now as a judge within this land I bear a ruler's port.

GISBERTUS.
Indeed, good father, we have cause to praise your gravity,
Who did both save yourself from woe, and us from begging state;
Where if you had persevered still, as we did fear greatly,
Your good from us your children should to legate be confiscate:
Our glorious pomps, then, should we have been glad for to abate.

PAPHINITIUS.
But now not only that you had for us, but also have
Such offices, whereby more gains you year by year shall save.

PHILOLOGUS.
I was at point once very near to have been quite forlorn,
Had not Suggestion of the flesh from folly me reclaimed,
And set this glass of worldly joys my sight and eyes beforn,
The sight whereof did cause all things of me to be disdained.
I thought I had felicity when it I had obtained;
And to say truth, I do not care what to my soul betide,
So long as this prosperity and wealth by me abide.
But let us homeward go again, some pastime there to make:
My whole delight in sport and games of pleasure I repose.

    [_Enter_ HORROR.]

HORROR.
Nay, stay thy journey here awhile: I do thee prisoner take.
I shall abate thy pleasures soon--yea, too soon, thou wilt suppose.

PHILOLOGUS.
What is thy name? whence comest thou? wherefore? to me disclose--

HORROR.
My name is call'd Confusion and Horror of the mind,
And to correct impenitents of God I am assign'd,
And for because thou dost despise God's mercy and his grace,
And wouldst no admonition take by them that did thee warn,
Neither when Conscience counselled thee, thou wouldst his words embrace,
Who would have had thee unto God obedience true to learn;
Nor couldst between Suggestion's craft and Conscience' truth discern:
Behold, therefore, thou shalt of me another lesson hear,
Which (will thou, nill thou,) with torment of Conscience thou shalt bear.
And where thou hast extinguished the Holy Spirit of God,
And made him weary with thy sins, which daily thou hast done,
He will no longer in thy soul and spirit make abode,
But with the graces, which he gave to thee, now is he gone:
So that to Godward by Christ's death rejoicing thou hast none.
The peace of Conscience faded is; instead whereof I bring
The spirit of Satan, blasphemy, confusion and cursing.
The glass likewise of vanities, which is thine only joy,
I will transform into the glass of deadly desperation,
By looking in the which thou shalt conceive a great annoy.
Thus have I caught thee in thy pride, and brought thee to damnation;
So that thou art a pattern true of God's just indignation:
Whereby each man may warned be the like sins to eschew,
Lest the same torments they incur, which in thee they shall view.

PHILOLOGUS.
O painful pain of deep disdain, O griping grief of hell!
O horror huge, O soul suppress'd, and slain with desperation!
O heap of sins, the sum whereof no man can number well!
O death, O furious flames of hell, my just recompensation!
O wretched wight, O creature curs'd, O child of condemnation!
O angry God and merciless, most fearful to behold!
O Christ, thou art no Lamb to me, but Lion fierce and bold!

GISBERTUS.
Alas, dear father! what doth move and cause you to lament?

PHILOLOGUS.
My sins, alas! which in this glass appear innumerable,
For which I shall no pardon get; for God is fully bent
In fury for to punish me with pains intolerable.
Neither to call to him for grace or pardon am I able.
My sin is unto death; I feel Christ's death doth me no good,
Neither for my behoof did Christ shed his most precious blood.

PAPHINITIUS.
Alas, dear father! alas! I say, what sudden change is this?

PHILOLOGUS.
I am condemned into hell these torments to sustain.

GISBERTUS.
O, say not so, my father dear; God's mercy mighty is.

PHILOLOGUS.
The sentence of the righteous Judge cannot be call'd again,
Who hath already judged me to everlasting pain.
O that my body buried were, that it at rest might be,
Though soul were put in Judas' place, or Cain's extremity.

GISBERTUS.
O brother! haste you to the town, and tell Theologus,
What sudden plague and punishment my father hath befell.

PAPHINITIUS.
I run in haste, and will request him for to come with us.

GISBERTUS.
O father! rest yourself in God, and all thing shall be well.

PHILOLOGUS.
Ah, dreadful name! which when I hear to sigh it me compel.
God is against me, I perceive; he is none of my God,
Unless in this, that he will beat and plague me with his rod.
And though his mercy doth surpass the sins of all the world,
Yet shall it not once profit me, or pardon mine offence:
I am refused utterly, I quite from God am whurl'd.
My name within the Book of Life had never residence;
Christ prayed not, Christ suffered not, my sins to recompense,
But only for the Lord's elect, of which sort I am none.
I feel his justice towards me; his mercy all is gone.
And to be short, within short space my final end shall be:
Then shall my soul incur the pains of utter desolation,
And I shall be a precedent most horrible to see
To God's elect, that they may see the price of abjuration.

GISBERTUS.
To hear my father's doleful plaints it bringeth perturbation
Unto my soul; but yonder comes that good Theologus--
O welcome, sir! and welcome you, good Master Eusebius.



ACT V., SCENE 5.


    THEO. PHIL. EUSE. GIS. PAPHI.

[THEOLOGUS.]
God save you, good Philologus; how do you, by God's grace?

PHILOLOGUS.
You welcome are, but I, alas! vile wretch, am here evil found.

EUSEBIUS.
What is the chiefest cause, tell us, of this your dolorous case?

PHILOLOGUS.
O, would my soul were sunk in hell, so body were in ground:
That angry God now hath his will, who sought me to confound.

THEOLOGUS.
O, say not so, Philologus, for God is gracious,
And to forgive the penitent his mercy is plenteous.
Do you not know that all the earth with mercy doth abound,
And though the sins of all the world upon one man were laid,
If he one only spark of grace or mercy once had found,
His wickedness could not him harm: wherefore be not dismay'd.
Christ's death alone for all your sins a perfect ransom paid:
God doth not covet sinner's death, but rather that he may
By living still bewail his sins, and so them put away.
Consider Peter, who three times his master did deny;
Yea, with an oath; and that although Christ did him warning give,
With whom before-time he had lived so long familiarly,
Of whom so many benefits of love he did receive;
Yet when once Peter his own fault did at the last perceive,
And did bewail his former crime with salt and bitter tears,
Christ by and by did pardon him, the gospel witness bears.
The thief likewise and murtherer, which never had done good,
But had in mischief spent his days, yea, during all his life,
With latest breath when he his sins and wickedness withstood,
And with iniquities of flesh his spirit was at strife,
Thorough that one motion of his heart and power of true belief,
He was received into grace, and all his sins defaced,
Christ saying, Soon in paradise with me thou shalt be placed.
The hand of God is not abridged, but still he is of might
To pardon them that call to him unfeignedly for grace.
Again, it is God's property to pardon sinners quite:
Pray therefore with thy heart to God here in this open place,
And from the very root of heart bewail to him thy case,
And, I assure thee, God will on thee his mercy show
Through Jesus Christ, who is with him our advocate, you know.

PHILOLOGUS.
I have no faith: the words you speak my heart doth not believe.
I must confess that I for sin am justly thrown to hell.

EUSEBIUS.
His monstrous incredulity my very heart doth grieve.
Ah, dear Philologus! I have known by face and visage well
A sort of men, which have been vex'd with devils and spirits fell,
In far worse state than you are yet, brought into desperation,
Yet in the end have been reclaimed by godly exhortation.
Such are the mercies of the Lord, he will throw down to hell,
And yet call back again from thence, as holy David writes.
What should then let you trust in God? I pray you to us tell,
Sith to forgive and do us good it chiefly him delights?
What, would not you that of your sins he should you clean acquite?
How can he once deny to you one thing you do request,
Which hath already given to you his best-beloved Christ?
Lift up your heart in hope, therefore; awhile be of good cheer,
And make access unto his seat of grace by earnest prayer,
And God will surely you relieve with grace, stand not in fear.

PHILOLOGUS.
I do believe that out from God proceed these comforts fair:
So do the devils, yet of their health they alway do despair.
They are not written unto me, for I would fain attain
The mercy and the love of God, but he doth me disdain.
How would you have that man to live, which hath no mouth to eat?
No more can I live in my soul, which have no faith at all:
And where you say that Peter did of Christ soon pardon get,
Who in the selfsame sin with me from God did greatly fall,
Why I cannot obtain the same, to you I open shall:
God had respect to him always, and did him[57] firmly love,
But I, alas! am reprobate; God doth my soul reprove.
Moreover, I will say with tongue, whatso you will require:
My heart, I feel, with blasphemy and cursing is replete.

THEOLOGUS.
Then pray with us, as Christ us taught, we do you all desire.

PHILOLOGUS.
To pray with lips unto your God you shall me soon entreat:
My spirit to Satan is in thrall; I can it not thence get.

EUSEBIUS.
God shall renew your spirit again; pray only as you can,
And to assist you in the same we pray each Christian man.

PHILOLOGUS.
O God, which dwellest in the heavens, and art our Father dear,
Thy holy name throughout the world be ever sanctified,
The kingdom of thy word and Spirit upon us rule might bear,
Thy will in earth as by thy saints in heaven be ratified;
Our daily bread, we thee beseech, O Lord, for us provide;
Our sins remit, Lord, unto us, as we each man forgive:
Let not temptation us assail; in all evil us relieve. Amen.

THEOLOGUS.
The Lord be praised, who hath at length thy spirit mollified.
These are not tokens unto us of your reprobation:
You mourn with tears, and sue for grace; wherefore be certified,
That God in mercy giveth ear unto your supplication.
Wherefore despair not thou at all of thy soul's preservation,
And say not with a desperate heart, that God against thee is:
He will no doubt, these pains once past, receive you into bliss.

PHILOLOGUS.
No, no, my friends, you only hear and see the outward part,
Which, though you think they have done well, it booteth not at all.
My lips have spoke the words indeed; but yet I feel my heart
With cursing is replenished, with rancour, spite and gall:
Neither do I your Lord and God in heart my Father call,
But rather seek his holy name for to blaspheme and curse.
My state, therefore, doth not amend, but wax still worse and worse.
I am secluded clean from grace, my heart is hardened quite;
Wherefore you do your labour lose, and spend your breath in vain.

EUSEBIUS.
O, say not so, Philologus, but let your heart be pight
Upon the mercies of the Lord, and I you ascertain[58]
Remission of your former sins you shall at last obtain.
God hath it said (who cannot lie): at whatsoever time
A sinner shall from heart repent, I will remit his crime.

PHILOLOGUS.
You cannot say so much to me, as herein I do know,
That by the mercies of the Lord all sins are done away,
And unto them that have true faith abundantly it flow;
But whence do this true faith proceed to us, I do you pray?
It is the only gift of God, from him it comes alway;
I would, therefore, he would vouchsafe one spark of faith to plant
Within my breast: then of his grace I know I should not want.
But it as easily may be done, as you may with one spoon
At once take up the water clean, which in the seas abide;
And at one draught then drink it up: this shall ye do as soon,
As to my breast of true belief one sparkle shall betide.
Tush! you which are in prosperous state, and my pains have not tried,
Do think it but an easy thing a sinner to repent
Him of his sins, and by true faith damnation to prevent.
The healthful need not physic's art, and ye, which are all hale,
Can give good counsel to the sick their sickness to eschew;
But here, alas! confusion and hell doth me assail,
And that all grace from me is reft, I find it to be true.
My heart is steel, so that no faith can from the same ensue.
I can conceive no hope at all of pardon or of grace,
But out, alas! Confusion is alway before my face.
And certainly, even at this[59] time, I do most plainly see
The devils to be about me round, which make great preparation,
And keep a stir here in this place which only is for me:
Neither do I conceive these things by vain imagination,
But even as truly as mine eyes behold your shape and fashion.
Wherefore, desired Death, despatch; my body bring to rest,
Though that my soul in furious flames of fire be suppress'd.

THEOLOGUS.
Your mind corrupted doth present to you this false illusion;
But turn awhile unto the spirit of truth in your distress,
And it shall cast out from your eyes all horror and confusion,
And of this your affliction it will you soon redress.

EUSEBIUS.
We have good hope, Philologus, of your salvation, doubtless.

PHILOLOGUS.
What your hope is concerning me, I utterly contemn:
My Conscience, which for thousands stand, as guilty me condemn.

EUSEBIUS.
When did this horror first you take? what, think you, is the cause?

PHILOLOGUS.
Even shortly after I did make mine open abjuration,
For that I did prefer my goods before God's holy laws.
Therefore in wrath he did me send this horrible vexation,
And hath me wounded in the soul with grievous tribulation,
That I may be a president, in whom all men may view
Those torments which to them, that will forsake the Lord, are due.

THEOLOGUS.
Yet let me boldly ask one thing of you without offence:
What was your former faith in Christ, which you before did hold?
For it is said of holy Paul, in these same words in sense:
It cannot be that utterly in faith he should be cold,
Whoso he be, which perfectly true faith in heart once hold.
Wherefore rehearse in short discourse the sum of your belief,
In those points chiefly, which for health of soul are thought most chief.

PHILOLOGUS.
I did believe in heart that Christ was that true sacrifice,
Which did appease the Father's wrath, and that by him alone
We were made just and sanctified: I did believe, likewise,
That without him heaven to attain sufficient means were none.
But to reknowledge this again alas! all grace was gone:
I never loved him again with right and sincere heart,
Neither was thankful for the same, as was each good man's part.
But rather took the faith of Christ for liberty to sin,
And did abuse his graces great to further carnal lust.
What wickedness I did commit, I cared not a pin;
For that[60] Christ discharged had my ransom, I did trust:
Wherefore the Lord doth now correct the same with torments just.
My sons, my sons, I speak to you: my counsel ponder well,
And practise that in deeds which I in words shall to you tell.
I speak not this, that I would ought the gospel derogate,
Which is most true in every part, I must it needs confess;
But this I say, that of vain faith alone you should not prate,
But also by your holy life you should your faith express:
Believe me, sirs, for by good proof these things I do express.
Peruse the writing of St James, and first of Peter too,
Which all God's people holiness of life exhort unto.
By sundry reasons--as for, first, because we strangers are;
Again, sin from the flesh proceed, but we are of the spirit;
The third, because the flesh alway against the spirit do war;
The fourth, that we may stop the mouths of such as would backbite;
The fifth, that other by our lives to God reduce we might:
Again, they sing a pleasant song, which sing in deed and word,
But where evil life ensue good words, there is a foul discord.
But I, alas! most wretched wight, whereas I did presume
That I had got a perfect faith, did holy life disdain:
And though I did to other preach good life, I did consume,
My life in wickedness and sin, in sport and pleasures vain.
No, neither did I once contend from them flesh to refrain.
Behold, therefore, the judgments just of God doth me annoy,
Not for amendment of my life, but me for to destroy.

EUSEBIUS.
We do not altogether like of this your exhortation.
Whereas you warn us not to trust so much unto our faith,
But that good works we should prepare unto our preservation:
There are two kinds of righteousness, as Paul to Romans saith;
The one dependeth of good works, the other hangs of faith.
The former, which the world allows, God counts it least of twain,
As by good proof it shall to you in words be proved plain,
For Socrates and Cato both did purchase great renown,
And Aristides, surnamed Just, this righteousness fulfilled,
Wherefore he was as justest man expell'd his native town;
Yet are their souls with infidels in hell for ever spilled,
Because they sought not righteousness that way that God them willed.
The other righteousness comes from faith, which God regards alone,
And makes us seem immaculate before his heavenly throne.
Wherefore there is no cause you should send us to outward act,
As to the anchor or refuge of our preservation.

THEOLOGUS.
The meaning of Philologus is not here so exact,
As do his words make it to seem by your allegation.
He doth not mean between good works and faith to make relation,
As though works were equivalent salvation to attain,
As is true faith; but what he meant, I will set down more plain.
He did exhort the young men here by him for to beware,
Lest, as he did, so they, abuse God's gospel pure,
And without good advice usurp of faith the gift so rare:
Whereby they think, whatso they do, themselves from torments free,
And by this proud presumption God's anger should procure:
And where they boast and vaunt themselves good faithful men to be,
Yet in their lives they do deny their faith in each degree.
Wherefore he saith, as Peter said: see that you do make known
Your own election by your works. Again St James doth say,
Show me thy faith, and by my works my faith shall thee be shown.
And whereupon his own offence he doth to them bewray,
Whereas he did vaingloriously upon a dead faith stay;
Which for the inward righteousness he alway did suspect,
And hereupon all godliness of life he did neglect.

PHILOLOGUS.
That was the meaning of my words, however I them spake:
The truth, alas! vile wretch, my soul and Conscience too true feel.

THEOLOGUS.
What, do you not, Philologus, with us no comfort take,
When all these things so godlily to you I do reveal.
Especially sith that yourself in them are seen so well?
Some hope unto us of your health and safety yet is left:
We do not think that all God's grace from you is wholly reft.

PHILOLOGUS.
Alas! what comfort can betide unto a damned wretch?
Whatso I hear, see, feel, taste, speak, is turned all to woe.

EUSEBIUS.
Ah, dear Philologus! think not that ought can God's grace outreach.
Consider David which did sin in lust and murther too;
Yet was he pardoned of his sins, and so shalt thou also.

PHILOLOGUS.
King David always was elect, but I am reprobate,
And therefore I can find small ease by weighing his estate.
He also prayed unto God which I shall never do:
His prayer was that God would not his spirit take away;
But it is gone from me long since, and shall be given no mo.
But what became of Cain, of Cam, of Saul, I do you pray?
Of Judas, and Barehu?--these must my Conscience slay--
Of Julian Apostate, with other of that crew?
The same torments must I abide, which these men did ensue.

THEOLOGUS.
Alas! my friend, take in good part the chastisement of the Lord,
Who doth correct you in this world, that in the life to come
He might you save, for of the like the Scripture bears record.

PHILOLOGUS.
That is not God's intent with me, though it be so with some,
Who after body's punishment have into favour come:
But I, alas! in spirit and soul these grievous torments bear:
God hath condemned my conscience to perpetual grief and fear.
I would most gladly choose to live a thousand thousand year.
In all the torments and the grief that damned souls sustain;
So that at length I might have ease, it would me greatly cheer:
But I, alas! shall in this life in torments still remain,
While God's just anger upon me shall be revealed plain,
And I example made to all of God's just indignation.
O, that my body were at rest, and soul in condemnation!

EUSEBIUS.
I pray you, answer me herein: where you by deep despair
Say you are worse here in this life, than if you were in hell;
And for because to have death come you alway make your prayer,
As though your soul and body both in torments great did dwell,
If that a man should give to you a sword, I pray you tell,
Would you destroy yourself therewith, as do the desperate,
Which hang or kill, or into floods themselves precipitate?

PHILOLOGUS.
Give me a sword; then shall you know what is in mine intent.

EUSEBIUS.
Not so, my friend; I only ask what herein were your will?

PHILOLOGUS.
I cannot, neither will I tell, whereto I would be bent.

THEOLOGUS.
These words do nothing edify, but rather fancies fill,
Which we would gladly, if we could, endeavour for to kill.
Wherefore I once again request, together let us pray,
And so we will leave you to God, and send you hence away.

PHILOLOGUS.
I cannot pray; my spirit is dead, no faith in me remain.

THEOLOGUS.
Do as you can; no more than might we can ask at your hand.

PHILOLOGUS,
My prayer[61] turned is to sin; for God doth it disdain.

EUSEBIUS.
It is the Falsehood of the Spirit, which do your health withstand,
That teach you this: wherefore in time reject his filthy band.

THEOLOGUS.
Come, kneel by me, and let us pray the Lord of Heaven unto.

PHILOLOGUS.
With as good will as did the devil out of the deaf man go.    [_Aside_.
O God, which dwellest in the heavens, &c.
Tush! sirs, you do your labours lose: see, where Belzabub doth come,
And doth invite me to a feast: you therefore speak in vain.
Yea, if you ask ought more of me, in answer I will be dumb:
I will not waste my tongue for nought; as soon shall one small grain
Of mustard-seed fill all the world, as I true faith attain.

THEOLOGUS.
We will no longer stay you now, but let you hence depart.

EUSEBIUS.
Yet will we pray continually that God would you convert.

THEOLOGUS.
Gisbertus and Paphinitius, conduct him to his place;
But see he have good company: let him not be alone.

AMBO.
We shall so do: God us assist with his most holy grace!

GISBERTUS.
Come, father, do you not think good that we from hence be gone?

PHILOLOGUS.
Let go my hands at liberty: assistance I crave none.
O, that I had a sword awhile! I should soon eased be.

AMBO.
Alas! dear father, what do you?

EUSEBIUS.
His will we may now see.

                  [_Exeunt_ Philologus, Gisbertus, Paphinitius.

THEOLOGUS.
O glorious God, how wonderful those judgments are of thine:
Thou dost behold the secret heart; nought doth thy eyes beguile.
O, what occasion is us given to fear thy might divine,
And from our hearts to hate and loathe iniquities so vile,
Lest for the same thou in thy wrath dost grace from us exile.
The outward man doth thee not please, nor yet the mind alone,
But thou requirest both of us, or else regardest none.

EUSEBIUS.
Here may the worldlings have a glass, their states for to behold,
And learn in time for to escape the judgments of the Lord;
Whilst they by flattering of themselves, of faith both dead and cold,
Do sell their souls to wickedness, of all good men abhorr'd:
But godliness doth not depend in knowing of the word;
But in fulfilling of the same, as in this man we see,
Who though he did to others preach, his life did not agree.

THEOLOGUS.
Again, Philologus witnesseth which is the truth of Christ,
For that consenting to the Pope he did the Lord abjure,
Whereby he teach the wavering faith on which side to persist:
And those which have the truth of God, that still they may endure.
The tyrants which delight in blood he likewise doth assure,
In whose affairs they spend their time--but let us homeward go.

EUSEBIUS.
I am content that after meat we may resort him to.

                              [_Exeunt_ THEOLOGUS _and_ EUSEBIUS.




ACT VI. SCENE LAST.


NUNTIUS.
O joyful news which I report, and bring into your ears!
Philologus, that would have hanged himself with cord,
Is now converted unto God with many bitter tears:
By godly counsel he was won, all praise be to the Lord.
His errors all he did renounce, his blasphemies he abhorr'd,
And being converted left his life, exhorting foe and friend,
That do profess the faith of Christ, to be constant to the end.
Full thirty weeks in woful wise afflicted he had been,
All which long time he took no food, but forc'd against his will
Even with a spoon to pour some broth his teeth between:
And though they sought by force this wise to feed him still,
He always strove with all his might the same on ground to spill;
So that no sustenance he receiv'd, no sleep could he attain,
And now the Lord in mercy great hath eas'd him of his pain.






THE RARE TRIUMPHS OF LOVE AND FORTUNE.



EDITION.

_The Rare Triumphes of Love and Fortune, Plaide before the Queenes most
excellent Maiestie: wherin are manye fine Conceites with great delight.
At London, Printed by E.A. for Edward White, and are to be solde at the
little North doore of S. Paules Church at the signe of the Gunne_. 1589.
4°. Black letter.



THE RARE TRIUMPHS OF LOVE AND FORTUNE.


THE FIRST ACT.


    _Enter_ MERCURY: _then riseth a Fury: then enter the assembly
    of the gods_, JUPITER _with_ JUNO, APOLLO _with_ MINERVA, MARS
    _and_ SATURN, _after_ VULCAN _with_ VENUS: _the Fury sets debate
    amongst them, and after_ JUPITER speaks as followeth_.

JUPITER.
Ye gods and goddesses, whence springs this strife of late?
Who are the authors of this mutiny?
Or whence hath sprung this civil discord here.
Which on the sudden struck us in this fear?
If gods that reign in skies do fall at war,
No marvel, then, though mortal men do jar.
But now I see the cause: thou Fury fell,
Bred in the dungeon of the deepest hell,
Who causeth thee to show thyself in light?
And what thy message is, I charge thee tell upright?

TISIPHONE.
O Jupiter, thou dreadful king of gods, and men the father high,
To whose command the heavens, the earth, and lowest hell obey,
Tisiphone, the daughter of eternal night,
Bred in the bottom of the deepest pit of hell,
Brought up in blood, and cherish'd with scrawling snakes,
Tormenting therewithal the damned souls of them
Here upon earth, that careless live of thy commandment;
I am the same--
I am the same whom both my loathsome sisters hate,
Whom hell itself complains to keep within her race,
Whom every fearful soul detesteth with a curse,
Whom earth and seas defy, heavens loathing to behold;
I am the same--
I am the same sent from thy brother Pluto now,
Thy brother Pluto, king of hell and golden mines;
Sent unto thee and these thy fellow-gods I am,
From him to thee, from him by me, to tell thee to thy face
He hath been lately rubb'd, and touch'd perhaps too near;
Which he ne can or will put up without revenge,
If thou or any god the quarrel dare defend.
And this it is--
Thy daughter Venus, thy proud daughter Venus here,
Blabs it abroad, and beareth all the world in hand,[62]
She must be thought the only goddess in the world,
Exalting and suppressing whom she likes best,
Defacing altogether Lady Fortune's grace;
Breaking her altars[63] down, dishonouring her name,
Whose government thyself, thyself dost know.
How say'st thou? dost thou not?--
Her father, therefore, thy brother Pluto, sends
By me, the messenger of discord and debate,
Commanding or desiring--choose thou whether of both--
Her honour still entire[64] she may maintain;
Else on thy daughter Venus, that lascivious dame,
Himself will wreak his high despite on her.

JUPITER.
Depart, foul fiend, unto thy loathsome cell,
Where thou lamenting makes continual moan!
Go tell my brother, were it not for him,
Thou shouldst have rued thy bold presumption.
Say thou thy message hath been largely heard,
And bid him send his daughter Fortune, now,
Whilst we are here, the matter may have end.
Despatch.

TISIPHONE.
I go--
Give place, thou air; open, thou earth; gape, hollow hell, below;
And unto all that live and breathe I wish a world of woe.
                                                  [_Exit_ TISIPHONE.

JUPITER.
Ye powers divine, be reconcil'd again;
Depart from discord and extreme debate:
Within your breasts let love and peace remain,
A perfect pattern of your heavenly state,
Whilome ago[65] to hell condemning hate.
Thus, when the higher powers is in one,[66]
Men upon earth will fly contention.

MERCURY.
Great god and father mine, your care and fear
Of us, and eke of all the world beside,
That restless rolls in his continual sphere,
Whereby all things in perfect course abide,
As one arrays[67] another forth to slide:
And this example may prevail for all,
To work our wills according to your call.
And I dare say, presuming on the rest,
The poison of this rancour is suppress'd.

VULCAN.
How ye agree, my masters, I cannot tell;
[_To Venus_.] But, were we a-bed, we two could agree well.

JUPITER.
Gramercy, Mercury; I know thy will
Is ever prest to further my desire:
In sign whereof, to quiet all things well,
And to suppress betimes the secret fire,
That I perceive would break and mount up higher:
This to prevent, content ye here to stay,
To mark awhile what for themselves they say.
And, Venus, here I charge thee on my grace,
Not that I found thee heretofore untrue,
But for thine adversary is not yet in place,
Thou tell uprightly whence your quarrel grew;
What words betwixt you thereof did ensue.
Say, lovely daughter; tell us flat thy mind:
They shall be blamed on whom the fault we find.

VENUS.
O thou, that governest everything, that gods and men attempt,
And with thy fearful thunderbolt their doings dost prevent,
What hath thy daughter so deserved? what doth she, silly dame,
Before ye thus to be abused with undeserved blame?
Surely, but that my[68] duty commands me now to speak,
For such a trifling cause this way my wrath I would not wreak.
But she--no marvel though she seek my seat thus to stain,
When otherways she cannot tell advantage how to gain.
But thence this hot despite: _Hinc illae lacrimae_,
Because, I say, she could not prove herself of power with me.
For, all you godheads know, she pains but such as pleasure knew:
She never grieves the groaning mind, where gladness never grew.
She never overthrows but at the top of joy;
For they that never tasted bliss mislike not their annoy.
But I torment the mind that never felt relief;
I plague the wretch that never thought on comfort in his grief,
That never had the hope of any happy chance,
That never once so much as deem'd I would his state advance.
Think, then, which of us both are of the greater power:
Once in his life, or not at all, to grant a light'ning hour?
I need not stand to make rehearsal here at all,
For gods and ghosts, yea, men and beasts, unto my power are thrall.
I dare appeal to you, if I should look awry--
Say, father, with your leave, in heaven who dares my word deny?
And if I please to smile, who will not laugh outright?
Whereby my great omnipotence is known to every wight.
I make the noble love the bastard in degree;
I tame and temper all the tongues that rail and scoff at me.
What bird, what beast, what worm, but feeleth my delight?
What lives or draweth breath, but[69] I can pleasure or despite?
Yet divers things there be that Fortune cannot tame;
As are the riches of the mind, or else an honest name,
Or a contented heart, still free from Fortune's power:
But such as climb, before they crawl, must drink the sweet with sour.
Thyself, O Jupiter, didst grant sometimes to me,
Of all things here beneath the moon I should the ruler be:
Thou say'st I did deserve the honour of that praise;
Thyself didst once devise whereby my glory first to raise.
Is this my sovereignty? is this so glorious?
Is this becoming thy renown, to quit thy daughter thus?

JUPITER.
Fear not, fair Venus, neither be dismay'd;
Repose thee on the warrant of my word.
What I have promis'd, doubt not to be performed;
The spareless destinies my will afford:
Let this defend thee, like a trusty sword.
But Lady Fortune cometh, now I see.
Welcome, fair dame; what is thy will with me?

    [_Enter_ FORTUNE.]

FORTUNE.
Ye sacred powers divine, how should I now begin,
Or which way should I couch my words, your favours for to win?
I may pour out my plaint, but thou may'st it redress.
My father humbly prayeth you to give me leave to speak,
And pardon him that in his wrath he did your quietness break.
I cannot but confess, dread gods, I am not she,
That seeks with Venus to compare in her supremacy.
I am not of that power, yet am I of some might,
Which she (usurping) challengeth to keep me from my right.
I grant she may do much with her alluring smiles,
But soon your godheads can perceive her words be full of wiles.
What be the tragedies, the terrors, that she makes?
Let's see the mighty monarchs, the kingdoms that she shakes.
Poor soul, she soundly lives with wanton sug'red joys,
Triumphing in her own delight upon her foolish toys.
Sometimes she flattereth it in pleasure mix'd with pain,
Like to a fair sunshine day overcast with clouds of rain.
But should I reckon up what things I can confound,
What is it then, or what hath been, or shall for aye be found?
Is not the wonder of the world a work that soon decays?
Therefore, ye see all earthly things are wearing out always;
As brittle as the glass, unconstant like the mind,
As fickle as the whirling wheel, as wavering as the wind.
Lo, such I am that overthrows the highest-reared tower,
That changeth and supplanteth[70] realms in twinkling of an hour,
And send them hasty smart whom I devise to spoil,
Not threat'ning or forewarning them, but at a smile.
Where joy doth most abound, there I do sorrow place,
And them I chiefly persecute that pleasure did embrace.
What greater grief can fall to man in all his life,
Than after sweet to taste the sour, in peace to be at strife?
It is a biting thought that fretteth on the heart,
To say, the time was when I joy'd, though now oppress'd with smart.
If ever mighty king did 'scape untouch'd of me,
If ever year, or month, or day, or if an hour might be,
Wherein I have not us'd to practise some exchange,
Perhaps for this authority I might be thought to range
Too far beyond my right; but even the very stars,
The heavens, the planets, and the seas, bear witness of my scars.

VENUS.
No more of that, good dame; you run too far at roam:
I'll take the pains to keep you short, and call you nearer home.
I pray you, what's your might, when all are well belov'd?

FORTUNE.
The sweetest lovers in distress the sharper storms have prov'd.

VENUS.
Perhaps for want of wealth; but if their riches slack?

FORTUNE.
They are the very instrument, whereby I work their woe.

VENUS.
What, if their friends abound, then can they never lack?

FORTUNE.
The dearest friends are scattered, when Fortune turns her toe.

VENUS.
If they be noble born, or of a princely blood?

FORTUNE.
When Fortune frowns, that may procure more harm than do them good.

VENUS.
But wise men evermore upon a rock are set.

FORTUNE.
Yet can they not escape a scourge, for Fortune hath a net.

JUPITER.
I will not in, till things be well discern'd:
Affection shall not mar a lawful cause.
By examples this may best be learn'd,
In elder ages led within your laws.
Therefore, a while hereof I mean to pause;
And bring in, Mercury, in open view
The ghosts of them that Love and Fortune slew.

MERCURY.
Thy word my will--
Thou triple-headed Cerberus, give place;
And I command thee, Charon, with thy ferryboat
Transport the souls of such as may report
Fortune and Love, and not in open sort.
Let them appear to us in silent show,
To manifest a truth that we must know.
                [_Strikes with his rod three times_.

VULCAN.
Are ye mad, my masters? what a stir have we here.
Lord, have mercy upon us! must the devil appear?
Come away, wife; when I pray thee, come away.
Down on your knees, my masters, and pray.

                                   [_Music_.

    _Enter the show of Troilus and Cressida_.

MERCURY.
Behold, how Troilus and Cressida
Cries out on Love, that framed their decay.

VULCAN.
That was like the old wife, when her ale would not come,
Thrust a firebrand in the grout, and scratch'd her bum.

                                    [_Music_.

    _Enter the[71] show of Alexander_.

MERCURY.
Alexander the Great, that all the world subdu'd,
Curseth fell Fortune, that did him delude.

VULCAN.
'Tis an honest, grim sire at his first coming out, believe me;
And ye had stood in the wind, ye might have smelt me.

                                   [_Music_.

    _Enter the show of Queen Dido_.

MERCURY.
Queen Dido, that Aeneas could not move,
Stabbed herself, and yielded unto Love.

VULCAN.
The more fool she, and she were my own brother?
If my wife would not love me, must not I love another?

                                    [_Music_.

    _Enter the show of Pompey and Caesar_.

MERCURY.
Pompey and Caesar, the wonders of their time,
By froward Fortune spoiled in their prime.

VULCAN.
They were served well enough, why could not they be content
With a roach and a red herring in the holy time of Lent?

                                    [_Music_.

    _Enter the show of Leander and Hero_.

MERCURY.
[Hero and] Leander presents them very loth,
That felt the force of Love and Fortune both.

FORTUNE.
Upon him I my sovereignty did show.

VENUS.
And think you, dame, my power she did not know?

FORTUNE.
But it was I that dashed their delight.

VENUS.
After that I had proved my open might.

VULCAN.
What a scolding is here! shall it even thus be?
You look like an honest man in the parish; I pray you, make them agree.

JUPITER.
Content ye both: I'll hear no more of this.
And, Mercury, surcease; call out no more.
I have bethought me how to work their wish,
As you have often prov'd it heretofore.
Here in this land, within that princely bower,
There is a Prince beloved of his love,
On whom I mean your sovereignties to prove.
Venus, for that th[e]y love thy sweet delight,
Thou shalt endeavour to increase their joy:
And, Fortune, thou to manifest thy might,
Their pleasures and their pastimes shalt[72] destroy,
Overthwarting them with news of fresh annoy;
And she that most can please them or despite,
I will confirm to be of greatest might.

VENUS.
Your godhead hath devis'd, as I desire,
And I am gladly therewithal content.

FORTUNE.
And I am prest to do as you require;
Now shall you see the proof of my intent.

[JUPITER.]
Take up your places here to work your will:
When you have done, the rest I shall fulfil.

VULCAN.
They are set sunning like a crow in a gutter. What, are they gone?
And you will be quiet, sirs, they will make you good sport with their
  scolding anon.
Are not these a sort of good, mannerly gods to get them thus away?
I must take the pains to overtake them, for I see they will not stay.

                                     [_Exeunt omnes_.

_The end of the first Act_.




THE SECOND ACT.


    _Enter_ HERMIONE _and_ FIDELIA.

HERMIONE.
Why then, my dear, what is the greatest prize in love?

FIDELIA.
Absence of other griefs, the greatest that loving hearts can prove.

HERMIONE.
But absence cannot minish love, or make it less in ought.

FIDELIA.
Yet nevertheless it leaves a doubt within the other's thought.

HERMIONE.
And what is that?--

FIDELIA.
Lest change of air should change the absent mind.

HERMIONE.
That fault is proper but to them whom jealousy makes blind.

FIDELIA.
O, pardon it, for that the cause from whence it springs is such.

HERMIONE.
From whence is that?

FIDELIA.
My mother says, from loving over-much.

HERMIONE.
Your author I will not admit; that rests us[73] it to prove.

FIDELIA.
Be sure it is, that jealousy proceeds of fervent love.

HERMIONE.
Can that be fervent love, wherein suspicion leads the mind?

FIDELIA.
Most fervent love, where so much love doth make the fancy blind.

HERMIONE.
But faithful love can never be, wherein suspect doth dwell.

FIDELIA.
The faithful lovers do suspect, because they love so well.

HERMIONE.
My dear Fidelia, as I think, thy love is such to me,
So fervent, faithful and unstain'd, as purer none can be,
Admit occasions fall out, then, that I must part from thee,
Tell me, wilt thou mean space suspect inconstancy in me?

FIDELIA.
If so I do, impute it to the force of lovers' laws,
That oftentimes are touch'd with fear, whereas there is no cause.

                           [ARMENIO _listening_.

ARMENIO.
What have I heard? what do mine eyes behold?
Dishonour to the house from whence I came!
Unshamefast girl, forgetful, all too bold:
And thou, false traitor, author of the same.
Sufferest not, for guerdon of thy due,
The king my father's gracious countenance,
But must thou climb, ungrateful and untrue,
These steps at first thine honour to advance?
Hath Fortune promised so much hope at first,
To make thy conquest of a prince's child?
And should I stand to question, how thou durst
To leave to think she might be so beguil'd?
But words may not suffice to wreak this wrong,
Hid under cloak of over-hardy[74] love.
Thou[75] upstart fondling, and forborne too long,
To give such cause thy prince's ire to move.

FIDELIA.
Nay, my good brother, take it not so whot:
The fault is mine, and I will bear the blame.
And to return you an answer, well I wot
How to defend the honour of my name.
But for my love, I am resolved in this,
However you account of his defaults,
With vowed affection wholly to be his,
As one in whom I spy more special parts,
Than fall in fondlings of the baser kind.
To have a word not squaring with the place,
But measure men by their unstained minds,
Let fortune be to virtue no disgrace;
For fortune, when and where it likes her majesty,
With clouds can cover birth and highest degree.

ARMENIO.
What, dame, and are you shameless in your shame?
No, mistress, no: it will not be let past;
But, wilful wench, this new-attempted game,
Ere it be won, will ask another cast.
And, lady, cloak his virtues as you will,
He'll be but as I said, a fondling still.

HERMIONE.
Erst had I thought, my lord, a man so wise as you,
Son to a prince, scholar to him that depth of learning knew,
Among many lessons one,[76] this rule could wisely find,
To have the government of wrath and rancour of your mind.
What high offence is given unto your father's grace?
I take it nothing needful here to reason of the case:
But stand he less content, or pleased herewithal,
My lord, that thus you should mislike the cause is very small.
The unremoved love I bear my lady here,
Whose countenance my comfort is, that holds my love as dear,
Commands me to digest such hard and bitter words,
As not with credit of your state your honour here affords.
Else, prince, persuade thyself, my mind were not so base
To pocket, but for such respects, so hard and foul disgrace.
And this,[77] lady--Hermione, for ought that men do know,
By birth may be as nobly born as Prince Armenio.

ARMENIO.
Traitor, thou shalt not joy that proud comparison.

FIDELIA.
My good Hermione, come hence; let him alone.

ARMENIO.
Nay, dame; it likes me not that you should go.

HERMIONE.
Whether thou wilt, Armenio, she shall, though thou say no.

ARMENIO.
What, shall she, villain?

FIDELIA.
Help, help! alas!

    _Enter_ PHIZANTIES [_the prince], a_ LORD, _and_
    PENULO [_a parasite_].

PHIZANTIES.
What stir is here? what means this broil begun?
Give me to know th'occasion of this strife?
How falls it out? Armenio, my son,
Hath wound receiv'd by stroke of naked knife.
Say to me straight, what one hath done this deed?
His blows are big that makes a prince to bleed.

FIDELIA.
My sovereign father, pardon his offence,[78]
Whose grief of mind is greater than his wound.
My rightful quarrel yields me safe defence,
And here they stand that guilty must be found.

ARMENIO.
Traitor, O king, unto your majesty,
Whose proud attempt doth touch your grace so near,
As what may be the greatest villainy
Upon recital shall be opened here.
My sister and your far unworthy child,
Forgetting love and fear of gods and thee,
And honour of her name, is thus beguil'd
To love this gentleman, whom here you see--
Hermione, whom for a jewel of some price
Old Hermet gave[79] your highness long ago.
And for I gave rebuke to her[80] device,
In gallant thought he would not take it so;
But, as it seems, to do my body good--
I thank him--deign'd himself to let me blood.

PHIZANTIES.
Hermione, and hast thou done this deed?
And couldst thou shrine such treason in thy thought?
Armenio, jest not with thy hurt: take heed.
And thou, fond girl, whose stained blood hath wrought,
How hath mine age and honour been abus'd,
My princely care, Hermione, of thee?
The fault so great it cannot be excus'd,
And you enforc'd the shame thereof to see.
But far we fear some farther ill may fall,
Through love and hate of one and of the other:
Her foolish love, I mean; and therewithal
The hot disdain and stomach of her brother.
Hermione, weigh what our pleasure is.
Whilome, thou knowest, we entertained[81] thee willingly;
Now, seeing thou hast done so far amiss
To reach above thy reach unorderly,
In milder words, because we love thee well,
Lo, we discharge thee of our princely court:
Thou mayest no longer with Fidelia dwell,
Forbidden to her presence to resort.
Behold my 'ward,[82] that am no bitter judge,
And wend thy way, where'er thou likest to go:
This only way I take to end the grudge,
And stop the love that each to other owe.
Among such haps as might my mind content,
Whereof the gracious gods have given me store,
I count this one, if thus I might prevent
The furthest outrage of the swelling sore.

HERMIONE.
Alas! now have I lived too long, I see,
Confounded so to yield to fortune's will:
My sovereign prince offended thus with me,
And I adjudg'd to death, though living still.
Ah, my good lord! whom I have honoured long,
Long may your highness joy this highest place:
Thyself the root and cause of mine own wrong.
But must I leave to view my lady's face,
And, banish'd from my prince's royal court,
Wander,[83] as erst the unhappy Oedipus,
Whose pain my foes will make their chiefest sport--
My most unhappy chance will have it thus.

ARMENIO.
No force forsooth: unpitied might he die,
That to his sovereign means such villainy.

HERMIONE.
Such villainy! who ever meant more good?

ARMENIO.
The venom of thy villainy withstood.

HERMIONE.
Armenio, I forbear thee here for reverence;
Yet, by my prince's leave, in my defence
I may allege I lov'd thy sister here;
Which love though I am like to buy full dear;
Yet is her love more precious than the price.
But since hard hap prevents our late device,
Long live my lord, long live my lady's grace:
God send them friends as loyal in my place;
And, trust me, then their fortune shall be such,
As not thy love shall ever prove so much.

PHIZANTIES.
Hermione, give me thy hand: adieu:
Think this is done t'avoid a further ill,
And double mischief that might else ensue.
For my sake cease to love Fidelia still:
Unequal love is enemy to rest.
She is too young to love thee as she should--
And thou, Hermione, canst conceive the rest.
My meaning is, she loves not as we would.
Time may afford to both your hearts' desires
New choice to cool these newly-kindled fires.

FIDELIA.
Never, alas! never will be the day,
That I shall leave to love Hermione.
Sooner shall nature's course quite altered be,
Than I shall leave, dear knight, to honour thee.
Good father, let him stay, who, if he part,
'Gainst law is like to steal away my heart.

ARMENIO.
May it please your grace to keep the body here,
It's like enough the heart will hover[84] near.

HERMIONE.
My lord, laugh not oppressed souls to scorn.
Losers, they say, may easily be forborne.

PHIZANTIES.
Forbear these words; and thou, Fidelia,
These misbeseeming foolish fashions stay.
Let it suffice that thou shalt live in court,
Where, if among the jolly brave resort
Of sundry knights of noble personage,
Worthy thy love for gifts and parentage,
Thou shalt espy one[85] such as we do like,
Our favours shall not be too far to seek.

FIDELIA.
Ah, my Hermione!

HERMIONE.
Sweet lady mine, farewell.[86]
Farewell, the courteous't dame that on earth do dwell.

ARMENIO.
Sir, now you are packing, let me know your walk,
For I have that may not be past without some talk:
Nor stands it with mine honour to let thee bear it clear,
But I will make thee know Armenio's blood is dear.

HERMIONE.
My lord, I make no challenge with offence;
But first I will prepare for my defence.

ARMENIO.
So, sir, you are aforehand: keep you so,
And reckon of Armenio for thy vowed foe.
Go, wend thy ways obscurer than the night,
And Fortune for revenge plague thee with spite.
                                          [_Exit_.

HERMIONE.
Farewell, my cruel foe; not thou nor Fortune may
Add more unto the miseries that I have felt to-day;
Nor but by safe return[87] unto this happy place,
Can gods or Fortune make amends in this distressed case.
Then cease, Hermione, to utter speech of this;
Words not suffice this endless woe, but death, i-wis:
And part thou from the place a dead and liveless man,
Robb'd of thy senses and thy joy, since first this stir began.

PENULO.
Ah, good my lord, my good lord Hermione!

HERMIONE.
I am, indeed, as thou dost say, Hermione;
For that I am Hermione, I am
The unhappiest wight that ever hither came.

PENULO.
Ah, my good lord! would God, poor Penulo
Might any way but mitigate this woe.
And pleaseth it your honour to command
My service, or the help of head or hand,
Penulo, my worthy lord, would prove as just,
As he whom best your honour likes to trust.
Say what it is, wherein my secrecy
May aid your lordship in this extremity?

HERMIONE.
Penulo, since thou so friendly here dost proffer me
The uttermost of aid that lies in thee,
I do remember that which, brought to pass,
Would make me half so happy as I was.

PENULO.
Say it, my lord, and constantly I vow it,
It shall go hard, but Penulo will do it.

HERMIONE.
Gramercy, gentle friend: then, thus it is:--
The lady of my life Fidelia is;
Of whom I am, I know, belov'd no less
Than she of me, my gracious mistress,
Sever'd by Fortune and our cruel foe,
My lord her brother, Prince Armenio.
Now could'st thou, Penulo, thyself behave
On trust to bring my lady to the cave,
Where whilome (lovers) we were wont to meet,
In secret sort each other for to greet.
She wots it well, and every corner knows,
And every uncouth[88] step that thither goes:
For what is not sharpsighted lovers see?
This is the sum of my desire to thee.
Accomplish this, and, this in silence done,
My happiness will be again begun.

PENULO.
My lord, I see whereunto this talk doth tend:
I have this lesson at my finger-end.
No more ado; betake you to your flight:
We'll make a plaister for the sore ere night.
[_Aside_.] But such an one as, if it be applied,
Shall do more grief than ease, when it is tried.

HERMIONE.
Penulo, I yield my life into thy hands.

PENULO.
Ye do, sir, as now the matter stands.    [_Aside_.

HERMIONE.
Hold, Penulo, and I will look for thee.

PENULO.
You will not look for them that come with me.    [_Aside_.

HERMIONE.
I will be gone, and live to see my dear.
                                    [_Exit_.

PENULO.
Do so, sir, and perchance be never the near.
This is a step that first we use to climb:
We that, forsooth, take hold on every time.
Men of all hours, whose credit such as spites,
In heat forsooth hath call'd us parasites.
But let them spite, and we will bite as fast.
But, Penulo, thou spendest words in waste.
A fool, Hermione, that for hurting thee
On[89] slender trust will give a knave his fee.
                                            [_Exit_.

    _Strike up_ FORTUNE'S _triumphs with drums and trumpets_.

FORTUNE.
Behold what Fortune, if she list, can do,
High mistress of the rolling wheel of chance,
To overturn, and who can do thereto,
Or graciously, when please her, to advance.
Lo, lordings, this is Fortune's impery,
And in her pleasure to be changing still:
Herein consisteth Fortune's sovereignty;
That Fortune can on earth do what she will.
When men have builded on the surest grounds,
Their strong devices Fortune's power confounds.

    _Enter_ VENUS.

VENUS.
Not all in haste; you do not so intend:
You have begun, but I must make an end.




THE THIRD ACT.


    _Enter_ BOMELIO _solus, like an_ HERMIT.

BOMELIO.
He that hath lost his hope, and yet desires to live,
He that is overwhelm'd with woe, and yet would counsel give;
He that delights to sigh, to walk abroad alone,
To drive away the weary time with his lamenting moan;
He that in his distress despaireth of relief,
Let him begin to tell his tale, to rip up all his grief,
And if that wretched man can more than I recite
Of fickle Fortune's froward check and her continual spite,
Of her inconstant change, of her discourtesy,
I will be partner with that man to live in misery.
When first my flow'ring years began to bud their prime,
Even in the April of mine age and May-month of my time;
When, like the tender kid new-weaned from the teat,
In every pleasant springing mead I took my choice of meat;
When simple youth devis'd to length[en] his delight,
Even then, not dreaming I on her, she poured out her spite:
Even then she took her key, and tuned[90] all her strings
To sing my woe: list, lordings, now my tragedy begins.
Behold me, wretched man, that serv'd his prince with pain,
That in the honour of his praise esteem'd my greatest gain:
Behold me, wretched man, that for his public weal
Refused not with thousand foes in bloody wars to deal:
Behold me, wretched man, whose travail, pain, and toil
Was ever prest to save my friends from force of foreign spoil;
And see my just reward, look on my recompense:
Behold by this for labours past what guerdon cometh thence!
Not by my fiercest foes in doubtful fight with us,
But by my fawning friend[91] I was confounded thus.
One word of his despite in question call'd my name;
Two words of his untrusty tongue brought me to open shame.
Then was I banished the city, court and town;
Then every hand that held me up began to pull me down.
O, that the righteous gods should ever grant the power,
That smoothest sands and greenest bogs should soonest me devour.
Yet that I might descry the better their device,
Here have I liv'd almost five years, disguis'd in secret wise:
And now somewhat it is, but what I cannot tell,
Provokes me forward more than wont to leave my darksome cell,
And in my crooked age, instead of mirth and joy,
With broken sighs in doleful tunes to sing of mine annoy.

                  [_Song_.

  Go walk the path of plaint, go wander, wretched, now
  In uncouth ways, blind corners fit for such a wretch as thou.
  There feed upon thy woe; fresh[92] thoughts shall be thy fare,
  Musing shall be thy waiting-maid, thy carver shall be care;
  Thy dainty dish shall be of fretting melancholy,
  And broken sobs with hollow sighs thy savoury sauce shall be.
  But further ere I walk, my servant I will send
  Into the town to buy such things as now he can intend.

What, Lentulo!    [_To_ LENTULO _within_.

LENTULO.
Anon, forsooth.

BOMELIO.
What, Lentulo, come forth.

LENTULO.
Anon, forsooth.

BOMELIO.
Why, when? I say!

LENTULO.
Anon, forsooth.

BOMELIO.
You naughty lout; come out, sir knave, come away.

LENTULO.
Will you not give one leave to pull down his points? what, an a should
  his breeches beray?

    [_Enter_ LENTULO.]

BOMELIO.
Get you to the market, and buy such things as needful are for us.

LENTULO.
Such things as needful are for us! and what are those, I pray?
First, there is needful for us a pot of porridge, for I had none this
  many a day;
And then, there are needful for us a feather-bed, for I lie on a
  bottle of hay;
And then there is most needful for us a pretty proper wench for to
  laugh and play.

BOMELIO.
Go, buy us some victuals, and hie thee home.
                                         [_Exit_.

LENTULO.
Now, farewell, master mine, good gentle master mome.
Have you seen such a logger-headed fool, to say:
Go, go, good Lentulo, to buy my victuals so, and give me money?--no!
But for the name's sake, swounds, I were as good serve a master
  of clouts.
He'll do nothing all day long but sit on his arse, as my mother did
  when she made pouts:
And then a' looks a' this fashion, and thus and thus again; and then,
  what do ye?
By my troth, I stand even thus at him, and laugh at his simplismity.
Hath the best manners in the world to bid a man fall to his meat,
And then I say: I thank you forsooth, master, and I could tell
  what to eat.
We two, look you--that's I and he--can lie a-bed a whole night and a day,
And we eat, and we had it: it vattens a man; look on my cheeks, else,
  are they not fall'n away?
Well, I must jog to the town, and I'll tell you what shift I make there.
Marry, ye shall promise me not to steal it away.
When I come to a rich man's gate, I make a low leg, and then
  I knock there;
And then I begin to cry in at the keyhole, that I may be sure they
  shall hear:
God save my good master and my good mistress, a poor boy, a piece of
  bread and meat for God's sake!

    _Enter_ PENULO.

Heigh! merrily trick'd! am I not a knave for the nonce,
That can despatch two errands at once?
I have both told her even as I should do,
And told my young master to meet with him too.
Now he, like a gentleman, for the valour of his mind
Hath sworn by his honour not to stay long behind.
The desire of revenge pricketh him forward so,
That I am sure he'll not let but to go,
And that with all haste possible he may.
Then, tantara-tara, we shall have good play.
I like such a knave so can tickle them all,
To set noblemen at brabble and brawl.

LENTULO.
Save you, sir, young master, and you be a gentleman?

PENULO.
Whoreson peasant, seest thou not what I am?

LENTULO.
Troth, sir, I see you have a good doublet and a pair of hose;
But now-a-days there is so many goes
So like gentlemen, that such a poor fellow as I
Know not how a gentleman from a knave to spy.

PENULO.
Thou may'st perceive I am no such companion:[93]
I am a gentleman, a courtier, and a merry frank franion.[94]

LENTULO.
Then, thou merry companion, thou whoreson frank franion,
Why hast thou abused the law?
What, good skipjack, in faith with thwick-thwack your bones I will claw.
Come about, sir knave.

PENULO.
Cot's my passion, what a merry mate have we here?

LENTULO.
Give me your hand, sir: faith, I was bold to brush the dust out
  of your gear.
Pray, sir, tell me: they say in the country 'tis a common guise,
That gentlemen now-a-days cannot see with both eyes.

PENULO.
It's a lie, knave: I know[95] few gentlemen blind.

LENTULO.
No, sir? what will you lay, and I can find
One with a wet finger[96], that is stark blind?

PENULO.
It may be so, but I think thou canst not.

LENTULO.
Will you lay? do wager on it.

PENULO.
                              What should I lay?
Thou hast no money, I am sure, to pay.

LENTULO.
No, faith, sir; but I'll tell you what our wager shall be;
Because I am not able to lay any money,
I'll lay three round raps on the ribs with my cudgel here.

PENULO.
Soft, let me look first if there be no blind man near.
Content, i'faith: that bargain shall stand.

LENTULO.
Then, sir, I must be so bold as to search your purse out of hand.

PENULO.
My purse, sir? wherefore?

LENTULO.
By my troth, sir, no more but to try,
If you be not as blind a gentleman in the purse as I.

PENULO.
I use not to carry my money in a purse.

LENTULO.
All in a pocket? well, never a whit the worse;
I must search your pocket.

PENULO.
What, if it be elsewhere?

LENTULO.
Wheresoever it is, I must seek out this gear,
I'll not lose my wager, that's certain.
Very well, sir; will you put me to pain?

PENULO.
Have I never a weapon?--I'll look--I pray thee, be content.

LENTULO.
You shall have your wager, sir, as it was meant.

PENULO.
Hold thy hands, good fellow: I'll do anything for thee.
I perceive a wise man of a fool overtaken may be.

LENTULO.
Thou blind gentleman! unless it be for my commodiosity,
I'll teach thee to be blind, and go so bravely.

PENULO.
I'll do anything for thee, if thou strike me no more,
Because I perceive thou art almost as poor
As myself am, and yet there is somewhat in thee:
I'll prefer thee to a service in the Court presently.

LENTULO.
Ha! wilt thou do so?

PENULO.
That I will.

LENTULO.
Wilt thou do so, indeed?
Swear to me by thy ten commandments in thy creed.

PENULO.
I do so.

LENTULO.
Troth, then, we are friends: say nothing, I pray,
And you shall see me prove a rank runaway.
Why, when a man may be a courtier, and live at ease,
Should a' not leave his old master to please?
Sirrah blind gentleman, we two blind gentlemen, and [you] do
  as thou promis'd here,
Perhaps I may be as good to thee as two pots of beer.
I'll go with thee, i'faith; gaw, let's be gone.

PENULO.
Soft; tarry a while: I'll go with thee anon.

    _Enter_ ARMENIO.

ARMENIO.
How thinkest thou, Penulo, am I not provided now?

LENTULO.
I warrant, sir, a' shall have a cold pull of you,
And a' begin to make another brawl.

ARMENIO.
Farewell, when thou wilt; I trust I shall
Meet with him: am I not almost at the tree?

PENULO.
That same is it, sir.

LENTULO.
Sirrah, what's he?

PENULO.
What car'st thou I come, go thou with me.
Why, I shall have but an ill-favoured courtier of ye.

LENTULO.
Now, for a runaway, God send us good chance.
Then, maids, at your marriage I mean me to dance.
                                             [_Exit_.

ARMENIO.
Now serves the time to wreak me of my foe--
My bastard foe--that to dishonour me
In privy corners seeks to shame me so,
That my discredit might his credit be.
And hath my father from his tender youth
Vouchsaf'd to bring thee up? did I therefore
Believe so earnestly thy perjur'd truth,
Advancing still thine honour evermore,
That, not contented with a common wrack,
Thou shouldst intend the ruin of us all;
And when thou seemd'st afraid to turn thy back,
To make a glory of our greater fall?
Before thou triumph in thy treachery,
Before thou 'scape untouched for thy sin,
Let never Fates nor Fortune favour me,
But wretched let me live and die therein.
Few words shall serve, my deeds shall prove it now
That, ere I sleep, I mean to meet with you.
                                         [_Exit_.
    _Enter_ FIDELIA.

FIDELIA.
Behold the shifts that faithful love can make;
See what I dare adventure for thy sake.
In case extreme make virtue of a need,
But hence the grief which maketh my heart to bleed.
My love and life, wherever that thou be,
I am in dole constrain'd to follow thee:
Hence sprung the hell of my tormented mind,
The fear of some misfortune yet behind.
If thou escape the peril of distress,
My fear and care is twenty times more less.
No reason 'tis that I should live in joy,
When thou art wrapt in fetters of annoy;
Nor to that end I swear to be thy wife,
To live in peace with thee and state of life;
But as to dwell at ease in pleasure's lap,
Even so to bear some part of thy mishap,
And so to draw in equal portion still
Of both our fortunes, either good or ill.
And sith the lots of our unconstant fate
Have turn'd our former bliss to wretched state,
I am content to tread the woful dance,
That sounds the measure of our hapless chance.
I'll wait thy coming; long thou wilt not stay:
High Jove defend and keep thee in the way!

    _Enter_ BOMELIO.

BOMELIO.
Now weary lay thee down, thy fortune to fulfil:
Go, yield thee captive to thy care, to save thy life or spill.
The pleasures of the field, the prospect of delight,
The blooming trees, the chirping birds, are grievous to thy sight.
The hollow, craggy rock, the shrieking owl to see,
To hear the noise of serpent's hiss, that is thy harmony.
For as unto the sick all pleasure is in vain,
So mirth unto the wounded mind increaseth but his pain.
But, heavens! what do I see? thou nymph or lady fair,
Or else thou goddess of the grove, what mak'st thee to repair
To this unhaunted place, thy presence here unfit?

FIDELIA.
Ancient father, let it not offend thee any whit,
To find me here alone. I am no goddess, I,
But a mortal maid, subject to misery.
And better that I might lament my heavy moan,
I secret came abroad to recreate myself awhile alone.

BOMELIO.
Take comfort, daughter mine, for thou hast found him then,
That is of others all that live the most accursed'st man.
O, I have heard it said, our sorrows are the less,
If in our anguish we may find a partner in distress.

FIDELIA.
O father! but my grief relieved cannot be:
My hope is fled, my help in vain, my hurt my death must be.
Yet not the common death of life that here is led,
But such a death as ever kills, and yet is never dead.

BOMELIO.
Fair maid, I have been well acquainted with that fit:
Sometime injured with the like, I learn to comfort it.
Come, rest thee here with me, with[in] this hollow cave;
There will I reckon up at large the horrors that I have.

FIDELIA.
I thank you, father; but I must needs walk another way.

BOMELIO.
Nay, gentle damsel, be content a while with me to stay.

FIDELIA.
The longer that I stay with you, the greater is my grief.

BOMELIO.
The longer that you stay with me, the sooner is relief.

FIDELIA.
I am provided other ways; good father, let me go.

BOMELIO.
To him that off'reth thee no wrong, be not uncourteous so.

FIDELIA.
Perhaps another time I'll come, and visit thee.

BOMELIO.
Both then and now, if so you please, you shall right welcome be.

    [_Enter_ ARMENIO.

ARMENIO.
Shall she be welcome unto thee, old wretch, indeed?
I'll welcome both of you: come, maid, away with speed.

FIDELIA.
O brother!

ARMENIO.
Brother! Peace!

FIDELIA.
Good father, help me now.

BOMELIO.
Have I no weapons, wretch that I am? Well, youth, I'll meet with you.

ARMENIO.
Must you be gone? is this your meeting-place?
Come, get you home; and pack you, sir, apace.
Were't not for reverence of thine age, I swear,
Thou should'st accurse the time I met thee here.
But, i'faith, sister, my father shall welcome you.

BOMELIO.
Go tell thine errand, if thou canst.

FIDELIA.
Hermione, adieu;
Ten times adieu: farewell for ever now.

ARMENIO.
I thank thee. Fortune, that thou didst this deed allow.
                                                   [_Exeunt_.

BOMELIO.
Thou heaven and earth, and ye eternal lamps
That restless keep his course in order due;
Thou, Phoebe bright, that scatterest the damps
Of darksome night, I make my plaints to you.
And thou, Alecto, hearken to my call;
Let fall a serpent from thy snaky hair;
Tisiphone, be swift to plague them all,
That make a pastime of my care and fear!
And thou, O Jove, that by thy great foresight
Rulest the earth and reign'st above the skies;
That wreak'st the wrongs of them that master right
Against the wretches that thy name despise.
And Rhadamanth, thou judge of hateful hell,
Where damned ghosts continual moaning make,
Send forth a fury that may further well
The just revenge that here I undertake.
Henceforth accursed be thou evermore,
Accursed all thou tak'st in hand to do,
The time, the day, accursed be the hour,
The earth, the air, and all that 'long thereto!
Dole and despair henceforth be thy delight,
Wrapped now in present and woes to come,
To wail the day and weep the weary night;
And from this time henceforth I strike thee dumb.
Think'st thou I knew thee not? Yes, well, i-wis,
And that thy sister, daughter to my prince.
Now brag abroad what thou hast got by this:
So live thou dumb: that be thy recompense;
And when thy ghost forsakes thy body quite,
Vengeance I wish upon thy soul to light.

    _Enter_ HERMIONE.

HERMIONE.
Good even, good father: pardon my rudeness here.

BOMELIO.
O joy and grief! I will dissemble yet my cheer.    [_Aside_.

HERMIONE.
Good sir, methought I he

Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/9848