FOOTNOTES:

[1261] Not in Qtos.

THE HONOURABLE
Historie of Frier Bacon

[Scene First.[1262] In, or near, Fremingham]

Enter Prince Edward [1263] malcontented, with Lacy earle of Lincoln, John Warren earle of Sussex, and Ermsbie gentleman: Raph Simnell the kings foole.

Lacie. Why lookes my lord like to a troubled skie,

When heavens bright shine is shadow'd with a fogge?

Alate [1264] we ran the deere, and through the lawndes

Stript [1265] with our nagges the loftie frolicke bucks

That scudded fore the teisers [1266] like the wind: 5

Nere was the deere of merry Fresingfield

So lustily puld down by jolly mates,

Nor sharde the farmers such fat venison,

So franckly dealt, this hundred yeares before;

Nor have [1267] I seene my lord more frolicke in the chace; 10

And now [1268]—changde to a melancholie dumpe?

Warren. After the prince got to the keepers lodge,

And had been jocand in the house awhile,

Tossing of [1269] ale and milke in countrie cannes:

Whether it was the countries sweete content, 15

Or els the bonny damsell fild us drinke

That seemd so stately in her stammell [1270] red,

Or that a qualme did crosse his stomacke then,—

But straight he fell into his passions.

Ermsbie. Sirra Raphe, what say you to your maister, 20

Shall he thus all amort [1271] live malecontent?

Raphe. Heerest thou, Ned?—Nay, looke if hee will speake to me!

Edward. What sayst thou to me, foole?

Raphe. I preethee, tell me, Ned, art thou in love with the keepers daughter? 26

Edward. How if I be, what then?

Raphe. Why, then, sirha, Ile teach thee how to deceive Love.

Edward. How, Raphe?

Raphe. Marrie sirha Ned, thou shalt put on my cap and my coat and my dagger,[1272] and I will put on thy clothes and thy sword: and so thou shalt be my foole. 32

Edward. And what of this?

Raphe. Why, so thou shalt beguile Love; for Love is such a proud scab, that he will never meddle with fooles nor children. Is not Raphes counsel good, Ned? 36

Edward. Tell me, Ned Lacie, didst thou marke the mayd,

How lively [1273] in her country-weedes she lookt?

A bonier wench all Suffolke cannot yeeld:—

All Suffolke! nay, all England holds none such. 40

Raphe. Sirha Will Ermsby, Ned is deceived.

Ermsbie. Why, Raphe?

Raphe. He saies all England hath no such, and I say, and Ile stand to it, there is one better in Warwickshire.

The honourable historie of Frier Bacon [1279]

Warren. How proovest thou that, Raphe? 45

Raphe. Why, is not the abbot a learned man, and hath red many bookes, and thinkest thou he hath not more learning than thou to choose a bonny wench? yes, I warrant thee, by his whole grammer.

Ermsby. A good reason, Raphe. 50

Edward. I tell the[e], Lacie, that her sparkling eyes

Doe lighten forth sweet Loves alluring fire;

And in her tresses she doth fold the lookes

Of such as gaze upon her golden haire;

Her bashfull white, mixt with the mornings red, 55

Luna doth boast upon her lovely cheekes;

Her front is Beauties table,[1274] where she paints

The glories of her gorgious excellence;

Her teeth are shelves of pretious margarites,

Richly enclosed with ruddie curroll cleves.[1275] 60

Tush, Lacie, she is Beauties overmatch,

If thou survaist her curious imagerie.[1276]

Lacie. I grant, my lord, the damsell is as faire

As simple Suffolks homely towns can yeeld:

But in the court be quainter [1277] dames than she, 65

Whose faces are enricht with honours taint,[1278]

Whose bewties stand upon the stage of fame,

And vaunt their trophies in the Courts of Love.

Edw. Ah, Ned, but hadst thou watcht her as my self,

And seene the secret bewties of the maid, 70

Their courtly coinesse were but foolery.

Ermsbie. Why, how watcht you her, my lord?

Edward. When as she swept like Venus through the house,—

And in her shape fast foulded up my thoughtes,—

Into the milkhouse went I with the maid, 75

And there amongst the cream-boles she did shine

As Pallace 'mongst her princely huswiferie:

She turnd her smocke over her lilly armes,

And divd them into milke to run her cheese;

But, whiter than the milke, her cristall skin, 80

Checked with lines of azur, made her blush [1280]

That art or nature durst bring for compare.

Ermsbie,[1281] if thou hadst seene, as I did note it well,

How Bewtie plaid the huswife, how this girle,

Like Lucrece, laid her fingers to the worke, 85

Thou wouldst with Tarquine hazard Roome and all

To win the lovely mayd of Fresingfield.

Raphe. Sirha Ned, wouldst faine have her?

Edward. I,[1282] Raphe.

Raphe. Why, Ned, I have laid the plot in my head; thou shall have her alreadie. 91

Edward. Ile give thee a new coat, and [1282] learne me that.

Raphe. Why, sirra Ned, weel ride to Oxford to Frier Bacon: oh, he is a brave scholler, sirra; they say he is a brave nigromancer, that he can make women of devils, and hee can juggle cats into costermongers. 96

Edward. And how then, Raphe?

Raphe. Marry, sirrha, thou shalt go to him: and because [1283] thy father Harry shall not misse thee, hee shall turne me into thee; and Ile to the court, and Ile prince it out; and he shall make thee either a silken purse full of gold, or else a fine wrought smocke. 101

Edward. But how shall I have the mayd?

Raphe. Marry, sirha, if thou beest a silken purse full of gold, then on Sundaies sheele hang thee by her side, and you must not say a word. Now, sir, when she comes into a great prease [1284] of people, for feare of the cut-purse, on a sodaine sheele swap [1285] thee into her plackerd,[1286] then, sirrha, being there, you may plead for your selfe. 108

Ermsbie. Excellent pollicie!

Edward. But how if I be a wrought smocke? 110

Raphe. Then sheele put thee into her chest and lay thee into lavender, and upon some good day sheele put thee on, and at night when you go to bed, then being turnt from a smocke to a man, you may make up the match.

Lacie. Wonderfully wisely counselled, Raphe. 115

Edward. Raphe shall have a new coate.

Raphe. God thanke you when I have it on my backe, Ned.

Edward. Lacie, the foole hath laid a perfect plot;

For why our countrie Margret is so coy,

And standes so much upon her honest pointes, 120

That marriage, or no market with the mayd.

Ermsbie, it must be nigroma[n]ticke spels

And charmes of art that must inchaine her love,

Or else shall Edward never win the girle.

Therefore, my wags, weele horse us in the morne, 125

And post to Oxford to this jolly frier:

Bacon shall by his magicke doe this deed.

Warren. Content, my lord; and thats a speedy way

To weane these head-strong puppies from the teat.

Edward. I am unknowne, not taken for the prince; 130

They onely deeme us frolicke courtiers,

That revell thus among our lieges game,—

Therefore I have devis'd a pollicie:

Lacie, thou knowst next Friday is S. James,[1287]

And then the country flockes to Harlston [1288] faire: 135

Then will the keepers daughter frolicke there,

And over-shine the troupe of all the maids

That come to see and to be seene that day.

Haunt thee disguisd among the countrie-swaines,

Feign thart a farmers sonne, not far from thence, 140

Espie her loves, and who she liketh best:

Coat [1289] him, and court her, to controll the clowne;

Say that the courtier tyred all in greene,

That helpt her handsomly to run her cheese,

And fild her fathers lodge with venison, 145

Commends him, and sends fairings to herselfe.

Buy some thing worthie of her parentage,

Not worth her beautie; for, Lacie, then the faire

Affoords no jewell fitting for the mayd:

And when thou talkest of me, note if she blush: 150

Oh then she loves; but if her cheekes waxe pale,

Disdaine it is. Lacie, send how she fares,

And spare no time nor cost to win her loves.

Lacie. I will, my lord, so execute this charge

As if that Lacie were in love with her. 155

Edward. Send letters speedily to Oxford of the newes.

Raphe. And, sirha Lacie, buy me a thousand thousand million of fine bels.

Lacie. What wilt thou do with them, Raphe? 159

Raphe. Mary, every time that Ned sighs for the keepers daughter, Ile tie a bell about him: and so within three or foure daies I will send word to his father Harry, that his sonne, and my maister Ned, is become Loves morris dance.[1290]

Edward. Well, Lacie, look with care unto thy charge,

And I will haste to Oxford to the frier, 165

That he by art and thou by secret gifts

Maist make me lord of merrie Fresingfield.

Lacie. God send your honour your [1291] harts desire.

Exeunt.

[Scene Second. Frier Bacons cell at Brazennose]

Enter Frier Bacon, with Miles, his poore scholer, with bookes under his arme; with them Burden, Mason, Clement, three Doctors.

Bacon. Miles, where are you?

Miles. Hic sum, doctissime et reverendissime doctor.

Bacon. Attulisti nos[1292] libros meos de necromantia?

Miles. Ecce quam bonum et quam jucundum habitare[1293] libros in unum!

Bacon. Now, maisters of our academicke state, 5

That rule in Oxford, Vizroies in your place,

Whose heads containe maps of the liberall arts,

Spending your time in deapth of learned skill,

Why flocke you thus to Bacons secret cell,

A frier newly stalde in Brazennose? 10

Say whats your mind, that I may make replie.

Burden. Bacon, we hear that long we have suspect,

That thou art read in magicks mysterie:

In piromancie, to divine by flames;

To tell, by hadromaticke [1294] ebbes and tides; 15

By aeromancie to discover doubts,

To plaine out questions, as Apollo did.

Bacon. Well, Maister Burden, what of all [1295] this?

Miles. Marie, sir, he doth but fulfill, by rehearsing of these names, the fable of the Fox and the Grapes: that which is above us pertains nothing to us. 21

Burden. I tell thee, Bacon, Oxford makes report,

Nay, England, and the court of Henrie saies,

Th' art making of a brazen head by art,

Which shall unfold strange doubts and aphorismes, 25

And read a lecture in philosophie;

And, by the helpe of divels and ghastly fiends,

Thou meanst, ere many yeares or daies be past,

To compasse England with a wall of brasse.

Bacon. And what of this? 30

Miles. What of this, maister! why, he doth speak mystically: for he knowes, if your skill faile to make a brazen head, yet Mother Waters strong ale will fit his turne to make him have a copper-nose.

Clement. Bacon, we come not greeving at thy skill,

But joieing that our académie yeelds 35

A man supposde the woonder of the world:

For if thy cunning worke these myracles,

England and Europe shall admire thy fame,

And Oxford shall in characters of brasse,

And statues, such as were built up in Rome, 40

Eternize Frier Bacon for his art.

Mason. Then, gentle Frier, tell us thy intent.

Bacon. Seeing you come as friends unto the frier,

Resolve you, doctors, Bacon can by bookes

Make storming Boreas thunder from his cave, 45

And dimme faire Luna to a darke eclipse.

The great arch-ruler, potentate of hell,

Trembles when Bacon bids him, or his fiends,

Bow to the force of his pentageron.[1296]

What art can worke, the frolicke frier knowes; 50

And therefore will I turne my magicke bookes,

And straine out nigromancie to the deepe.

I have contrivd and framde a head of brasse,

(I made Belcephon [1297] hammer out the stuffe)

And that by art shall read Philosophie: 55

And I will strengthen England by my skill,

That if ten Cæsars livd and raignd in Rome,

With all the legions Europe doth containe,

They should not touch a grasse of English ground;

The worke that Ninus reard at Babylon, 60

The brazen walles framde by Semiramis,

Carvd out like to the portall of the sunne,

Shall not be such as rings the English strond

From Dover to the market-place of Rie.

Burden. Is this possible? 65

Miles. Ile bring ye t[w]o or three witnesses.

Burden. What be those?

Miles. Marry, sir, three or foure as honest divels and good companions as any be in hell.

Mason. No doubt but magicke may doe much in this; 70

For he that reades but mathematicke [1298] rules

Shall finde conclusions that availe to work

Wonders that passe the common sense of men.

Burden. But Bacon roves [1299] a bow beyond his reach,

And tels of more than magicke can performe, 75

Thinking to get a fame by fooleries.

Have I not past as farre in state of schooles,

And red of many secrets? yet to thinke

That heads of brasse can utter any voice,

Or more, to tell of deepe philosophie, 80

This is a fable Æsop had forgot.

Bacon. Burden, thou wrongst me in detracting thus;

Bacon loves not to stuffe himselfe with lies.

But tell me fore these doctors, if thou dare,

Of certaine questions I shall move to thee. 85

Burden. I will: aske what thou can.

Miles. Marrie, sir, heele straight be on your pickpacke to knowe whether the feminine or the masculin gender be most worthie.

Bacon. Were you not yesterday, Maister Burden, at Henly upon the Thembs? 90

Burden. I was: what then?

Bacon. What booke studied you thereon all night?

Burden. I! none at all; I red not there a line.

Bacon. Then, doctors, Frier Bacons art knowes nought.

Clement. What say you to this, Maister Burden? doth hee not touch you? 96

Burden. I passe not of his frivolous speeches.

Miles. Nay, Master Burden, my maister, ere hee hath done with you, will turne you from a doctor to a dunce, and shake you so small, that he will leave no more learning in you than is in Balaams asse. 101

Bacon. Maisters, for that learned Burdens skill is deepe,

And sore he doubts of Bacons cabalisme,

I'll shew you why he haunts to Henly oft:

Not, doctors, for to tast the fragrant aire, 105

But there to spend the night in alcumie,

To multiplie with secret spels of art;

Thus privat steales he learning from us all.

To proove my sayings true, Ile shew you straight

The booke he keepes at Henly for himselfe. 110

Miles. Nay, now my maister goes to conjuration, take heed.

Bacon. Maisters,[1300] stand still, feare not, Ile shewe you but his booke.

Here he conjures.

Per omnes deos infernales, Belcephon! 114

Enter a Woman with a shoulder of mutton on a spit, and a Devill.

Miles. Oh, maister, cease your conjuration, or you spoile all; for heeres a shee divell come with a shoulder of mutton on a spit: you have mard the divels supper; but no doubt hee thinkes our colledge fare is slender, and so hath sent you his cooke with a shoulder of mutton, to make it exceed.

Hostesse. Oh, where am I, or whats become of me? 120

Bacon. What art thou?

Hostesse. Hostesse at Henly, mistresse of the Bell.

Bacon. How camest thou heere?

Hostesse. As I was in the kitchen mongst the maydes,

Spitting the meate against [1301] supper for my guesse,[1301] 125

A motion mooved me to looke forth of dore.

No sooner had I pried into the yard,

But straight a whirlewind hoisted me from thence,

And mounted me aloft unto the cloudes.

As in a trance I thought nor feared nought, 130

Nor know I where or whether I was tane,

Nor where I am, nor what these persons be.

Bacon. No? know you not Maister Burden?

Hostesse. O yes, good sir, he is my daily guest.—

What, Maister Burden! twas but yesternight 135

That you and I at Henly plaid at cardes.

Burden. I knowe not what we did.—A poxe of all conjuring friars!

Clement. Now, jolly Frier, tell us, is this the booke

That Burden is so carefull to looke on?[1302] 140

Bacon. It is.—But, Burden, tell me now,

Thinkest thou that Bacons nicromanticke skill

Cannot performe his head and wall of brasse,

When he can fetch thine hostesse in such post? 144

Miles. Ile warrant you, maister, if Maister Burden could conjure as well as you, hee would have his booke everie night from Henly to study on at Oxford.

Mason. Burden, what, are you mated by this frolicke frier?—

Looke how he droops; his guiltie conscience

Drives him to bash,[1303] and makes his hostesse blush. 150

Bacon. Well, mistres, for I wil not have you mist,

You shall to Henly to cheere up your guests

Fore supper ginne.—Burden, bid her adew;

Say farewell to your hostesse fore she goes.—

Sirha, away, and set her safe at home. 155

Hostesse. Maister Burden, when shall we see you at Henly?[1304]

Exeunt Hostesse and the Devill.

Burden. The devill take thee and Henly too.

Miles. Maister, shall I make a good motion?

Bacon. Whats that? 159

Miles. Marry, sir, nowe that my hostesse is gone to provide supper, conjure up another spirite, and send Doctor Burden flying after.

Bacon. Thus, rulers of our accademicke state,

You have seene the frier frame his art by proofe;

And as the colledge called Brazennose

Is under him, and he the Maister [1305] there, 165

So surely shall this head of brasse be framde,

And yeelde forth strange and uncoth aphorismes;

And Hell and Heccate [1306] shall faile the frier,

But I will circle England round with brasse.

Miles. So be it, et nunc et semper. Amen.170

Exeunt omnes.

[Scene Third. Harlston Faire.]

Enter Margret, the faire mayd of Fresingfield, with Thomas, [Richard] and Jone, and other clownes; Lacie disguised in countrie apparell.

Thomas. By my troth, Margret, heeres a wether is able to make a man call his father whorson: if this wether hold, wee shall have hay good cheape, and butter and cheese at Harlston will beare no price.

Margret. Thomas, maides, when they come to see the faire,

Count not to make a cope [1307] for dearth of hay: 5

When we have turnd our butter to the salt,

And set our cheese safely [1308] upon the rackes,

Then let our fathers prise [1309] it as they please.

We countrie sluts of merry Fresingfield

Come to buy needlesse noughts to make us fine, 10

And looke that yong men should be francke [1310] this day,

And court us with such fairings as they can.

Phœbus is blythe, and frolicke lookes from heaven,

As when he courted lovely Semele,[1311]

Swearing the pedlers shall have emptie packs, 15

If that faire wether may make chapmen buy.

Lacie. But, lovely Peggie, Semele is dead,

And therefore Phœbus from his pallace pries,

And, seeing such a sweet and seemly saint,

Shewes all his glories for to court your selfe. 20

Margret. This is a fairing, gentle sir, indeed,

To sooth me up with such smooth flatterie;

But learne of me, your scoffe's [1312] to[o] broad before.—

Well, Jone, our bewties [1313] must abide their jestes;

We serve the turne in jolly Fresingfield. 25

Jone. Margret,[1314] a farmers daughter for a farmers son:

I warrant you, the meanest of us both

Shall have a mate to lead us from the church.

But, Thomas, whats the newes? what, in a dumpe?

Give me your hand, we are neere a pedlers shop,— 30

Out with your purse, we must have fairings now.

Thomas. Faith, Jone, and shall: Ile bestow a fairing on you, and then we will to the tavern, and snap off a pint of wine or two.

All this while Lacie whispers Margret in the eare.

Margret. Whence are you, sir? of Suffolke? for your tearmes

Are finer than the common sort of men.[1315] 35

Lacie. Faith, lovely girle, I am of Beckles [1316] by,

Your neighbour, not above six miles from hence,

A farmers sonne, that never was so quaint [1317]

But that he could do courtesie to such dames.

But trust me, Margret, I am sent in charge 40

From him that reveld in your fathers house,

And fild his lodge with cheere and venison,

'Tyred in green; he sent you this rich purse,

His token that he helpt you run your cheese,

And in the milkhouse chatted with your selfe. 45

Margret. To me? You forget your selfe.[1318]

Lacie. Women are often weake in memorie.

Margret. Oh, pardon sir, I call to mind the man:

Twere little manners to refuse his gift,

And yet I hope he sends it not for love; 50

For we have little leisure to debate of that.[1319]

Jone. What, Margret! blush not: mayds must have their loves.

Thomas. Nay, by the masse, she lookes pale as if she were angrie. 54

Richard. Sirha, are you of Beckls? I pray, how dooth Goodman Cob? my father bought a horse of him.—Ile tell you Margret, a were good to be a gentlemans jade, for of all things the foule hilding could not abide a doongcart.

Margret [aside]. How different is this farmer from the rest

That earst as yet hath pleasd my wandring sight! 60

His words are wittie, quickened with a smile,

His courtesie gentle, smelling of the court;

Facill and debonaire in all his deeds;

Proportiond as was Paris, when, in gray,

He courted Ænon in the vale by Troy. 65

Great lords have come and pleaded for my love:

Who but the keepers lasse of Fresingfield?

And yet me thinks this farmers jolly sonne

Passeth the prowdest that hath pleasd mine eye.

But, Peg, disclose not that thou art in love, 70

And shew as yet no sign of love to him,

Although thou well wouldst wish him for thy love;

Keepe that to thee till time doth serve thy turne,

To shew the greefe wherein thy heart doth burne.—

Come, Jone and Thomas, shall we to the faire?— 75

You, Beckls man, will not forsake us now?

Lacie. Not whilst I may have such quaint girls as you.

Margret. Well, if you chaunce to come by Fresingfield,

Make but a step into the keepers lodge,[1320]

And such poore fare as woodmen can affoord, 80

Butter and cheese, creame and fat venison,

You shall have store, and welcome therewithall.

Lacie. Gramarcies, Peggie; looke for me eare long.

Exeunt omnes.

[Scene Fourth. The Court at Hampton House.]

Enter Henry the third, the Emperour, the King of Castile, Elinor, his daughter, Jaques Vandermast a Germaine.

Henrie. Great men of Europe, monarks of the West,

Ringd with the walls of old Oceanus,

Whose loftie surge is [1321] like the battelments

That compast high built Babell in with towers,—

Welcome, my lords, welcome, brave westerne kings, 5

To Englands shore, whose promontorie cleeves

Shewes Albion is another little world:

Welcome says English Henrie to you all;

Chiefly unto the lovely Eleanour,

Who darde for Edwards sake cut through the seas, 10

And venture as Agenors damsell through the deepe,[1322]

To get the love of Henries wanton sonne.

Castile. Englands rich monarch, brave Plantagenet.

The Pyren Mounts swelling above the clouds,

That ward the welthie Castile in with walles, 15

Could not detaine the beautious Eleanour;

But, hearing of the fame of Edwards youth,

She darde to brooke Neptunus haughtie pride,

And bide the brunt of froward Eolus:

Then may faire England welcome her the more. 20

Elinor. After that English Henrie by his lords

Had sent Prince Edwards lovely counterfeit,

A present to the Castile Elinor,

The comly pourtrait of so brave a man,

The vertuous fame discoursed of his deeds, 25

Edwards couragious resolution,

Done at the Holy Land fore Damas [1323] walles,

Led both mine eye and thoughts in equall links,

To like so of the English monarchs sonne,

That I attempted perrils for his sake. 30

Emperour. Where is the prince, my lord?

Henrie. He posted down, not long since, from the court,

To Suffolke side, to merrie Fremingham,[1324]

To sport himselfe amongst my fallow deere;

From thence, by packets sent to Hampton [1324] house, 35

We heare the prince is ridden with his lords

To Oxford, in the academie there

To heare dispute amongst the learned men.

But we will send foorth letters for my sonne,

To will him come from Oxford to the court. 40

Empe. Nay, rather, Henrie, let us, as we be,

Ride for to visite Oxford with our traine.

Faine would I see your universities,

And what learned men your academie yields.

From Haspurg [1325] have I brought a learned clarke 45

To hold dispute with English orators:

This doctor, surnamde Jaques Vandermast,

A Germaine borne, past into Padua,

To Florence and to fair Bolonia,

To Paris, Rheims, and stately Orleans, 50

And, talking there with men of art, put downe

The chiefest of them all in aphorismes,[1326]

In magicke, and the mathematicke rules:

Now let us, Henrie, trie him in your schooles.

Henrie. He shal, my lord; this motion likes me wel. 55

Weele progresse straight to Oxford with our trains,

And see what men our academie bringes.—

And, woonder Vandermast, welcome to me:

In Oxford shalt thou find a jollie frier,

Cald Frier Bacon, Englands only flower: 60

Set him but non-plus in his magicke spels,

And make him yeeld in mathematicke rules,

And for thy glorie I will bind thy browes,

Not with a poets garland [1327] made of baies,

But with a coronet of choicest gold. 65

Whilst then we set [1328] to Oxford with our troupes,

Lets in and banquet in our English court.

Exit.

[Scene Fifth. A Street in Oxford.]

Enter Raphe Simnell in Edwardes apparell; Edward, Warren, Ermsby, disguised.

Raphe. Where be these vacabond knaves, that they attend no better on their master?

Edward. If it please your honour, we are all ready at an inch.[1329]

Raphe. Sirrha Ned, Ile have no more post horse to ride on: Ile have another fetch.[1330] 5

Ermsbie. I pray you, how is that, my lord?

Raphe. Marrie, sir, Ile send to the Ile of Eely for foure or five dozen of geese, and Ile have them tide six and six together with whipcord: now upon their backes will I have a faire field bed with a canapie; and so, when it is my pleasure, Ile flee into what place I please. This will be easie. 11

Warren. Your honour hath said well: but shall we to Brasennose Colledge before we pull off our bootes?

Ermsbie. Warren, well motion'd; wee will to the frier

Before we revell it within the towne.— 15

Raphe, see that you keepe your countenance like a prince.

Raphe. Wherefore have I such a companie of cutting [1331] knaves to wait upon me, but to keep and defend my countenance against all mine enemies? have you not good swords and bucklers?

Enter Bacon and Miles.

Ermsbie. Stay, who comes heere? 20

Warren. Some scholler; and weele aske him where Frier Bacon is.

Bacon. Why, thou arrant dunce, shal I never make thee good scholler? doth not all the towne crie out and say, Frier Bacons subsiser is the greatest blockhead in all Oxford? why, thou canst not speake one word of true Latine. 25

Miles. No, sir? Yes.[1332] What is this els? Ego sum tuus homo, 'I am your man'; I warrant you, sir, as good Tullies phrase as any is in Oxford.

Bacon. Come on, sirha; what part of speech is Ego?

Miles. Ego, that is 'I'; marrie, nomen substantivo. 30

Bacon. How proove you that?

Miles. Why, sir, let him proove himselfe and a will; 'I' can be hard, felt, and understood.

Bacon. O grosse dunce!

Here beate him.

Edw. Come, let us breake off this dispute between these two.—Sirha, where is Brazennose Colledge? 36

Miles. Not far from Copper-smithes Hall.

Edward. What, doest thou mocke me?

Miles. Not I, sir: but what would you at Brazennose?

Ermsbie. Marrie, we would speak with Frier Bacon. 40

Miles. Whose men be you?

Ermsbie. Marrie, scholler, heres our maister.

Raphe. Sirha, I am the maister of these good fellowes; mayst thou not know me to be a lord by my reparrell? 44

Miles. Then heeres good game for the hawke; for heers the maister foole and a covie of cocks combs: one wise man, I thinke, would spring you all.

Edward. Gogs wounds! Warren, kill him.

Warren. Why, Ned, I think the devill be in my sheath; I cannot get out my dagger. 50

Ermsbie. Nor I mine: swones, Ned, I think I am bewitcht.

Miles. A companie of scabbes! the proudest of you all drawe your weapon if he can.—

See how boldly I speake, now my maister is by. [Aside.]

Edward. I strive in vaine; but if my sword be shut 55

And conjur'd fast by magicke in my sheath,

Villaine, heere is my fist.

Strikes him a box on the eare.

Miles. Oh, I beseech you conjure his hands too, that he may not lift his armes to his head, for he is light fingered!

Raphe. Ned, strike him; Ile warrant thee by mine honour. 60

Bacon. What meanes the English prince to wrong my man?

Edward. To whom speakest thou?

Bacon. To thee.

Edward. Who art thou?[1333]

Bacon. Could you not judge when all your swords grew fast, 65

That Frier Bacon was not farre from hence?

Edward, King Henries sonne and Prince of Wales,

Thy foole disguisd [1334] cannot conceale thy self:

I know both Ermsbie and the Sussex earle,

Els Frier Bacon had but little skill. 70

Thou comest in post from merrie Fresingfield,

Fast fancied to the keepers bonny lasse,

To crave some succour of the jolly frier:

And Lacie, Ear[l]e of Lincolne, hast thou left

To treat fair Margret to allow thy loves; 75

But friends are men, and love can baffle lords;

The earl both woes and courtes her for himselfe.

Warren. Ned, this is strange; the frier knoweth al.

Ermsbie. Appollo could not utter more than this.

Edward. I stand amazed to heare this jolly frier 80

Tell even the verie secrets of my thoughts.—

But, learned Bacon, since thou knowest the cause

Why I did post so fast from Fresingfield,

Helpe, Frier, at a pinch, that I may have

The love of lovely Margret to my selfe, 85

And, as I am true Prince of Wales, Ile give

Living and lands to strength thy colledge state.

Warren. Good Frier, helpe the prince in this.

Raphe. Why, servant Ned, will not the frier doe it? Were not my sword glued to my scabberd by conjuration, I would cut off his head, and make him do it by force. 91

Miles. In faith, my lord, your manhood and your sword is all alike; they are so fast conjured that we shall never see them.

Ermsbie. What, doctor, in a dumpe! tush, helpe the prince, And thou shalt see how liberall he will proove. 95

Bacon. Crave not such actions greater dumps than these?

I will, my lord, straine out my magicke spels;

For this day comes the earle to Fresingfield,

And fore that night shuts in the day with darke,

Theile be betrothed ech to other fast. 100

But come with me; weele to my studie straight,

And in a glasse prospective I will shew

Whats done this day in merry Fresingfield.

Edward. Gramercies, Bacon; I will quite thy paine.

Bacon. But send your traine, my lord, into the towne: 105

My scholler shall go bring them to their inne:

Meane while weele see the knaverie of the earle.

Edward. Warren, leave me:—and, Ermsbie, take the foole;

Let him be maister, and go revell it,

Till I and Frier Bacon talke a while. 110

Warren. We will, my lord.

Raphe. Faith, Ned, and Ile lord it out till thou comest: Ile be Prince of Wales over all the blacke pots [1335] in Oxford.

Exeunt.

[Scene Sixth. Frier Bacons cell in Brazennose.]

Bacon, and Edward, goes into the study.[1336]

Bacon. Now, frolick Edward, welcome to my cell;

Heere tempers Frier Bacon many toies,

And holds this place his consistorie court,

Wherein the divels pleads [1337] homage to his words.

Within this glasse prospective thou shall see 5

This day whats done in merry Fresingfield

Twixt lovely Peggie and the Lincolne earle.

Edward. Frier, thou gladst me: now shall Edward trie

How Lacie meaneth to his soveraigne lord.

Bacon. Stand there and looke directly in the glasse. 10

Enter Margaret and Frier Bungay.[1338]

What sees my lord?

Edward. I see the keepers lovely lasse appeare,

As bright-sunne [1339] as the parramour of Mars,

Onely attended by a jolly frier.

Bacon. Sit still, and keepe the cristall in your eye. 15

Margret. But tell me, Frier Bungay, is it true

That this fair [1340] courtious countrie swaine,

Who saies his father is a farmer nie,

Can be Lord Lacie, Earle of Lincolnshire?

Bun. Peggie, tis true, tis Lacie for my life, 20

Or else mine art and cunning both doth faile,

Left by Prince Edward to procure his loves;

For he in greene, that holpe you runne your cheese,

Is sonne to Henry, and the Prince of Wales.

Margret. Be what he will, his lure is but for lust: 25

But did Lord Lacie like poor Marg[a]ret,

Or would he daine to wed a countrie lasse,[1341]

Frier, I would his humble handmayd be,

And for great wealth quite him with courtesie.

Bungay. Why, Margret, doest thou love him? 30

Margret. His personage, like the pride of vaunting Troy,

Might well avouch to shadow [1342] Hellen's scape:[1343]

His wit is quicke and readie in conceit,

As Greece affoorded in her chiefest prime.

Courteous, ah Frier, full of pleasing smiles! 35

Trust me, I love too much to tell thee more;

Suffice to me he is Englands parramour.[1344]

Bun. Hath not ech eye that viewd thy pleasing face

Surnamed thee Faire Maid of Fresingfield?

Margret. Yes, Bungay; and would God the lovely earle 40

Had that in esse that so many sought.

Bungay. Feare not, the frier will not be behind

To shew his cunning to entangle love.

Edward. I thinke the frier courts the bonny wench:[1345]

Bacon, me thinkes he is a lustie churle. 45

Bacon. Now looke, my lord.

Enter Lacie.

Edward. Gogs wounds, Bacon, heere comes Lacie![1346]

Bacon. Sit still, my lord, and marke the commedie.

Bungay. Heeres Lacie, Margret; step aside awhile.

[They withdraw.]

Lacie [solus]. Daphne, the damsell that caught Phæbus fast, 50

And lockt him in the brightnesse of her lookes,

Was not so beautious in Appollos eyes

As is faire Margret to the Lincolne earle;—

Recant thee, Lacie—thou art put in trust.

Edward, thy soveraignes sonne, hath chosen thee, 55

A secret friend, to court her for himself,

And darest thou wrong thy prince with trecherie?—

Lacie, love makes no exception [1347] of a friend,

Nor deemes it of a prince but as a man.

Honour bids thee controll [1348] him in his lust; 60

His wooing is not for to wed the girle,

But to intrap her and beguile the lasse.

Lacie, thou lovest, then brooke not such abuse,

But wed her, and abide thy prince's frowne;[1349]

For better [1350] die than see her live disgracde. 65

Margret. Come, Frier, I will shake him from his dumpes.— [Advancing.]

How cheere you, sir? a penie for your thought!

Your early up, pray God it be the neere.[1351]

What, come from Beckles in a morne so soone?

Lacie. Thus watchfull are such men as live in love, 70

Whose eyes brooke broken slumbers for their sleepe.

I tell thee, Peggie, since last Harlston faire

My minde hath felt a heape of passions.

Mar. A trustie man, that court it for your friend:

Woo you still for the courtier all in greene?— 75

[Aside.] I marvell that he sues not for himselfe.

Lacie. Peggie, I pleaded first to get your grace for him;

But when mine eies survaid your beautious lookes,

Love, like a wagge, straight dived into my heart,

And there did shrine the Idea [1352] of your selfe. 80

Pittie me, though I be a farmers sonne,

And measure not my riches, but my love.

Margret. You are verie hastie; for to garden well,

Seeds must have time to sprout before they spring

Love ought to creepe as doth the dials shade, 85

For timely [1353] ripe is rotten too too [1354] soone.

Bungay [advancing]. Deus hic; roome for a merrie frier!

What, youth of Beckles, with the keepers lasse?

Tis well; but tell me, heere you any newes?

Margret.[1355] No, Frier: what newes? 90

Bungay. Heere you not how the pursevants do post

With proclamations through ech country towne?

Lacie. For what, gentle frier? tell the newes.

Bun. Dwelst thou in Beckles, & heerst not of these news?

Lacie, the Earle of Lincolne, is late fled 95

From Windsor court, disguised like a swaine,

And lurkes about the countrie heere unknowne.

Henrie suspects him of some trecherie,

And therefore doth proclaime in every way,

That who can take the Lincolne earle shall have, 100

Paid in the Exchequer, twentie thousand crownes.

Lacie. The Earle of Lincoln! Frier, thou art mad:

It was some other; thou mistakest the man.

The earle of Lincolne! why, it cannot be.

Margret. Yes, verie well, my lord, for you are he: 105

The keepers daughter tooke you prisoner.

Lord Lacie, yeeld, Ile be your gailor once.

Edward. How familiar they be, Bacon!

Bacon. Sit still, and marke the sequell of their loves.

Lacie. Then am I double prisoner to thy selfe: 110

Peggie, I yeeld. But are these newes in jest?[1356]

Margret. In jest with you, but earnest unto me;

For why these wrongs do wring me at the heart.

Ah, how these earles and noble men of birth

Flatter and faine to forge poore womens ill! 115

Lacie. Beleeve me, lasse, I am the Lincolne earle:

I not denie but, tyred thus in rags,

I lived disguisd to winne faire Peggies love.

Margret. What love is there where wedding ends not love?

Lacie. I meant,[1357] faire girle, to make thee Lacies wife. 120

Margret. I litle thinke that earles wil stoop so low.

Lacie. Say shall I make thee countesse ere I sleep?

Margret. Handmaid unto the earle, so please him selfe:

A wife in name, but servant in obedience.

Lacie. The Lincolne countesse, for it shalbe so: 125

Ile plight the bands, and seale it with a kisse.

Edward. Gogs wounds, Bacon, they kisse! Ile stab them.

Bacon. Oh, hold your handes, my lord, it is the glasse!

Edward. Coller to see the traitors gree so well

Made me [1358] thinke the shadowes substances. 130

Bacon. Twere a long poinard, my lord, to reach betweene Oxford and Fresingfield; but sit still and see more.[1359]

Bungay. Well, Lord of Lincolne, if your loves be knit,

And that your tongues and thoughts do both agree,

To avoid insuing jarres, Ile hamper up the match: 135

Ile take my portace [1360] forth and wed you heere.

Then go to bed and scale up your desires.

Lacie. Frier, content.—Peggie, how like you this?

Margret. What likes my lord is pleasing unto me.

Bungay. Then hand-fast hand, and I wil to my booke. 140

Bacon. What sees my lord now?

Edward. Bacon, I see the lovers hand in hand,

The frier readie with his portace there

To wed them both: then am I quite undone.

Bacon, helpe now, if e'er thy magicke servde!— 145

Helpe, Bacon; stop the marriage now,

If divels or nigromancie may suffice,

And I will give thee fortie thousand crownes.

Bacon. Feare not, my lord, Ile stop the jolly frier

For [1361] mumbling up [1362] his orisons this day. 150

Lacie. Why speakst not, Bungay? Frier, to thy booke.

Bungay is mute, crying, 'Hud, hud.'

Margret. How lookest thou, Frier, as a man distraught?

Reft of thy sences, Bungay? shew by signes,

If thou be dum, what passions [1363] holdeth thee.

Lacie. Hees dumbe indeed: Bacon hath with his divels 155

Enchanted him, or else some strange disease

Or appoplexie hath possest his lungs:

But, Peggie, what he cannot with his booke,

Weel twixt us both unite it up in heart.

Margret. Els let me die, my lord, a miscreant. 160

Edward. Why stands Frier Bungay [1364] so amazd?

Bacon. I have strook him dum, my lord; &, if your honor please,[1365]

Ile fetch this Bungay straightway from Fresingfield,[1365]

And he shall dine with us in Oxford here.

Edward. Bacon, doe that, and thou contentest me. 165

Lacie. Of courtesie, Margret, let us lead the frier

Unto thy fathers lodge, to comfort him

With brothes, to bring him from this haplesse trance.

Margret. Or els, my lord, we were passing unkinde

To leave the frier so in his distresse. 170

Enter a Devill and carrie Bungay on his backe.

Margret. O, helpe, my lord! a devill, a devill, my lord!

Looke how he carries Bungay on his backe!

Let's hence, for Bacons spirits be abroad.

Exeunt.

Edward. Bacon, I laugh to see the jolly frier

Mounted upon the divell, and how the earle 175

Flees with his bonny lasse for feare.

Assoone as Bungay is at Brazennose,

And I have chatted with the merry frier,

I will in post his me to Fresingfield,

And quite these wrongs on Lacie ere it be long. 180

Bacon. So be it, my lord: but let us to our dinner;

For ere we have taken our repast awhile,

We shall have Bungay brought to Brazennose.

Exeunt.

[Scene Seventh. The Regenthouse at Oxford.]

Enter three doctors, Burden, Mason, Clement.

Mason. Now that we are gathered in the Regenthouse,[1366]

It fits us talke about the kings repaire;

For he, troopt [1367] with all the westerne kings,

That lie alongst the Dansick seas by east,

North by the clime of frostie Germanie, 5

The Almain monarke and the Saxon [1368] duke,

Castile and lovely Ellinor with him,

Have in their jests resolved for Oxford towne.

Burden. We must lay plots of stately tragedies,

Strange comick showes, such as proud Rossius [1369] 10

Vaunted before the Romane emperours,

To welcome all the westerne potentates.[1370]

Clement. But more; the king by letters hath foretold

That Fredericke, the Almaine emperour,

Hath brought with him a Germane of esteeme, 15

Whose surname is Don Jaquesse Vandermast,

Skilfull in magicke and those secret arts.

Mason. Then must we all make sute unto the frier,

To Frier Bacon, that he vouch this taske,

And undertake to countervaile in skill 20

The German; els theres none in Oxford can

Match and dispute with learned Vandermast.

Burden. Bacon, if he will hold the German play,

Will [1371] teach him what an English frier can doe;

The divell, I thinke, dare not dispute with him. 25

Clement. Indeed, mas doctor, he [dis [1372]]pleasured you,

In that he brought your hostesse with her spit,

From Henly, posting unto Brazennose.

Burden. A vengeance on the frier for his paines!

But leaving that, lets hie [1373] to Bacon straight, 30

To see if he will take this taske in hand.

Clement. Stay, what rumor is this? The towne is up in a mutinie: what hurly burlie is this?

Enter a Constable, with Raphe, Warren, Ermsbie, and Miles.

Constable. Nay, maisters, if you were nere so good, you shall before the doctors to aunswer your misdemeanour. 35

Burden. Whats the matter, fellow?

Constable. Marrie, sir, heres a companie of rufflers,[1374] that, drinking in the taverne, have made a great braule, and almost kilde the vintner.

Miles. Salve, Doctor Burden![1375] This lubberly lurden,[1376] 40

Ill-shapte and ill faced, disdaind and disgraced,

What he tels unto vobis mentitur de nobis.

Burden. Who is the maister and cheefe of this crew?

Miles. Ecce asinum mundi fugura[1377] rotundi,

Neat, sheat [1378] and fine, as briske as a cup of wine. 45

Burden. What are you?

Raphe. I am, father doctor, as a man would say, the belwether of this company: these are my lords, and I the Prince of Wales.

Clement. Are you Edward, the kings sonne? 49

Raphe. Sirra Miles, bring hither the tapster that drue the wine, and, I warrant, when they see how soundly I have broke his head, theile say twas done by no lesse man than a prince.

Mason. I cannot believe that this is the Prince of Wales.

Warren. And why so, sir?

Mason. For they say the prince is a brave & a wise gentleman.

War. Why, and thinkest thou, doctor, that he is not so? 56

Darst thou detract and derogat from him,

Being so lovely and so brave a youth?

Ermsbie. Whose face, shining with many a sugred smile,

Bewraies that he is bred of princely race. 60

Miles. And yet, maister doctor, to speake like a proctor,

And tell unto you what is veriment and true:

To cease of this quarrell, looke but on his apparell;

Then marke but my talis, he is great Prince of Walis,

The cheef of our gregis, and filius regis: 65

Then ware what is done, for he is Henries white [1379] son.

Raphe. Doctors, whose doting nightcaps [1380] are not capable of my ingenious dignitie, know that I am Edward Plantagenet, whom if you displease will [1381] make a shippe that shall hold all your colleges, and so carrie away the niniversity with a fayre wind to the Banke-side in Southwarke.—How sayst thou, Ned Warraine, shall I not do it? 72

Warren. Yes, my good lord; and, if it please your lordship, I wil gather up all your old pantophles, and with the corke [1382] make you a pinnis of five-hundred tunne, that shall serve the turne marvellous well, my lord. 76

Ermsbie. And I, my lord, will have pioners to undermine the towne, that the very gardens and orchards be carried away for your summer-walkes.

Miles. And, I, with scientia and great diligentia, 80

Will conjure and charme, to keepe you from harme;

That utrum horum mavis, your very great navis,

Like Bartlets [1383] ship, from Oxford do skip

With colleges and schooles, full loaden with fooles.

Quid dices ad hoc, worshipfull Domine Dawcocke?[1384] 85

Clement. Why, harebraind courtiers, are you drunke or mad,

To taunt us with such scurilitie?

Deeme you us men of base and light esteeme,

To bring us such a fop for Henries son?—

Call out the beadl[e]s and convay them hence 90

Straight to Bocardo:[1385] let the roisters lie

Close clapt in bolts, untill their wits be tame.

Ermsbie. Why, shall we to prison, my lord?

Raphe. What saist, Miles, shall I honour the prison with my presence? 95

Miles. No, no: out with your blades, and hamper these jades;

Have a flurt and a crash, now play revell dash,

And teach these sacerdos that the Bocardos,

Like pezzants and elves, are meet for themselves.[1386]

Mason. To the prison with them, constable. 100

Warren. Well, doctors, seeing I have sported me

With laughing at these mad and merrie wagges,

Know that Prince Edward is at Brazennose,

And this, attired like the Prince of Wales,

Is Raphe, King Henries only loved foole; 105

I, Earle of Sussex,[1387] and this Ermsbie,

One of the privie chamber to the king;

Who, while the prince with Frier Bacon staies,

Have revel'd it in Oxford as you see.

Mason. My lord, pardon us, we knew not what you were: 110

But courtiers may make greater skapes than these.

Wilt please your honour dine with me to-day?

Warren. I will, maister doctor, and satisfie the vintner for his hurt; only I must desire you to imagine him [1388] all the forenoon the Prince of Wales. 115

Mason. I will, sir.

Raphe. And upon that I will lead the way; onely I will have Miles go before me, because I have heard Henrie say that wisedome must go before majestie.

Exeunt omnes.

[Scene Eighth. The countrie-side; Fresingfield.]

Enter Prince Edward with his poiniard in his hand, Lacie, and Margret.[1389]

Edward. Lacie, thou canst not shroud thy traitrous thoughts,

Nor cover, as did Cassius, all his [1390] wiles;

For Edward hath an eye that lookes as farre

As Lyncœus from the shores of Grecia.

Did not I sit in Oxford by the frier, 5

And see thee court the mayd of Fresingfield,

Sealing thy flattering fancies with a kisse?

Did not prowd Bungay draw his portasse foorth,

And joyning hand in hand had married you,

If Frier Bacon had not strook him dumbe, 10

And mounted him upon a spirits backe

That we might chat at Oxford with the frier?

Traitor, what answerst? is not all this true?

Lacy. Truth all, my lord; and thus I make replie:

At Harlstone faire, there courting for your grace, 15

When as mine eye survaid her curious shape,

And drewe the beautious glory of her looks

To dive into the center of my heart,

Love taught me that your honour did but jest,

That princes were in fancie but as men; 20

How that the lovely maid of Fresingfield

Was fitter to be Lacies wedded wife

Than concubine unto the Prince of Wales.

Edward. Injurious Lacie, did I love thee more

Than Alexander his Hephestion? 25

Did I unfould the passion~~[1391] of my love,~~

~~And locke them in the closset of thy thoughts?~~

~~Wert thou to Edward second to himselfe,~~

~~Sole friend, and partner of his secreat loves?~~

~~And could a glaunce of fading bewtie breake 30~~

~~Th' inchained fetters of such privat freinds?~~

~~Base coward, false, and too effeminate~~

~~To be corivall with a prince in thoughts!~~

~~From Oxford have I posted since I dinde,~~

~~To quite a traitor fore that Edward sleepe. 35~~

Margret. Twas I, my lord, not Lacie stept awry:

~~For oft he sued and courted for your selfe,~~

~~And still woode for the courtier all in greene;~~

~~But I, whome fancy made but over fond,~~

~~Pleaded myselfe with looks as if I lovd; 40~~

~~I fed myne eye with gazing on his face,~~

~~And still bewitcht lovd Lacie with my looks;~~

~~My hart with sighes, myne eyes pleaded with tears,~~

~~My face held pittie and content at once,~~

~~And more I could not sipher out by signes, 45~~

~~But that I lovd Lord Lacie with my heart.~~

~~Then, worthy Edward, measure with thy minde~~

~~If womens favours will not force men fall,~~

~~If bewty, and if darts of persing love,~~

~~Are not of force to bury thoughts of friendes. 50~~

Edward. I tell thee, Peggie, I will have thy loves:

~~Edward or none shall conquer Marg[a]ret.~~

~~In frigats bottomd with rich Sethin [1392] planks,~~

~~Topt with the loftie firs of Libanon,~~

~~Stemd and incast with burnisht Ivorie, 55~~

~~And overlaid with plates of Persian wealth,~~

~~Like Thetis shall thou wanton on the waves,~~

~~And draw the dolphins [1393] to thy lovely eyes,~~

~~To daunce lavoltas [1394] in the purple [1393] streames;~~

~~Sirens, with harpes and silver psalteries, 60~~

~~Shall waight with musicke at thy frigots stem,~~

~~And entertaine fair Margret with their laies.[1395]~~

~~England and Englands wealth shall wait on thee;~~

~~Brittaine shall bend unto her princes love,~~

~~And doe due homage to thine excellence, 65~~

~~If thou wilt be but Edwards Marg[a]ret.~~

Margret. Pardon, my lord: if Joves great roialtie

~~Sent me such presents as to Danaë;~~

~~If Phœbus [']ti[r]ed [1396] in Latonas webs,~~

~~Come [1397] courting from the beautie of his lodge; 70~~

~~The dulcet tunes of frolicke Mercurie—~~

~~Not [1398] all the wealth heavens treasurie affoords,—~~

~~Should make me leave Lord Lacie or his love.~~

Edw. I have learnd at Oxford, then, this point of schooles,—

Ablata[1399] causa, tollitur effectus: 75

~~Lacie [1400]—the cause that Margret cannot love~~

~~Nor fix her liking on the English prince,—~~

~~Take him away, and then the effects will faile.~~

~~Villaine, prepare thy selfe; for I will bathe~~

~~My poinard in the bosome of an earle. 80~~

Lacie. Rather then [1401] live and misse faire Margret's love!—

~~Prince Edward, stop not at the fatall doome,~~

~~But stabb it home: end both my loves and life.~~

Marg. Brave Prince of Wales, honoured for royall deeds,

~~Twere sinne to staine fair Venus courts with blood; 85~~

~~Loves conquests ends, my lord, in courtesie:~~

~~Spare Lacie, gentle Edward; let me die,~~

~~For so both you and he doe cease your loves.~~

Edward. Lacie shall die as traitor to his lord.

Lacie. I have deserved it, Edward; act it well. 90

Margret. What hopes the prince to gaine by Lacies death?

Edward. To end the loves twixt him and Margeret.

Marg. Why, thinks King Henries sonne that Margret's love

~~Hangs in the uncertaine ballance of proud time?~~

~~That death shall make a discord of our thoughts? 95~~

~~No, stab the earle, and fore the morning sun~~

~~Shall vaunt him thrice over the loftie east,~~

~~Margret will meet her Lacie in the heavens.~~

Lacie. If ought betides to lovely Marg[a]ret

~~That wrongs or wrings her honour from content, 100~~

~~Europes rich wealth nor Englands monarchie~~

~~Should not allure Lacie to overlive:~~

~~Then, Edward, short my life, and end her [1402] loves.~~

Margret. Rid me, and keepe a friend worth many loves.

Lacie. Nay, Edward, keepe a love worth many friends. 105

Margret. And if thy mind be such as fame hath blazde,

~~Then, princely Edward, let us both abide~~

~~The fatall resolution of thy rage:~~

~~Banish thou fancie, and imbrace revenge,~~

~~And in one toombe knit both our carkases, 110~~

~~Whose hearts were linked in one perfect love.~~

Edward [aside.] Edward, art thou that famous Prince of Wales,

~~Who at Damasco beat the Sarasens,~~

~~And broughtst home triumphe on thy launces point?~~

~~And shall thy plumes be puld by Venus downe? 115~~

~~Is it princely to dissever lovers leagues,[1403]~~

~~To part such friends as glorie in their loves?~~

~~Leave, Ned, and make a vertue of this fault,~~

~~And further Peg and Lacie in their loves:~~

~~So in subduing fancies passion, 120~~

~~Conquering thy selfe thou getst the richest spoile.—~~

~~Lacie, rise up. Faire Peggie, heeres my hand:~~

~~The Prince of Wales hath conquered all his thoughts,~~

~~And all his loves he yeelds unto the earle.~~

~~Lacie, enjoy the maid of Fresingfield; 125~~

~~Make her thy Lincolne countesse at the church,~~

~~And Ned, as he is true Plantagenet,~~

~~Will give her to thee franckly for thy wife.[1404]~~

Lacie. Humbly I take her of my soveraigne,

~~As if that Edward gave me Englands right, 130~~

~~And richt me with the Albion diadem.~~

Margret. And doth the English prince [1405] mean true?

~~Will he vouchsafe to cease his former loves,~~

~~And yeeld the title of a countrie maid~~

~~Unto Lord Lacie? 135~~

Edward. I will, faire Peggie, as I am true lord.

Marg. Then, lordly sir, whose conquest is as great,

~~In conquering love, as Cæsars victories,~~

~~Margret, as milde and humble in her thoughts~~

~~As was Aspatia [1406] unto Cirus selfe, 140~~

~~Yeelds thanks, and, next Lord Lacie, doth inshrine~~

~~Edward the second secret in her heart.~~

Edw. Gramercie, Peggie.—now that vowes are past,

~~And that your loves are not to [1407] be revolt,[1408]~~

~~Once, Lacie, friendes againe. Come, we will post 145~~

~~To Oxford; for this day the king is there,~~

~~And brings for Edward Castile Ellinor.~~

~~Peggie, I must go see and view my wife:~~

~~I pray God I like her as I loved thee.[1409]~~

~~Beside, Lord Lincolne, we shall heare dispute 150~~

~~Twixt Frier Bacon and learned Vandermast.~~

~~Peggie, weele leave you for a weeke or two.~~

Margret. As it please Lord Lacie: but loves foolish looks

~~Thinke footsteps miles and minutes to be houres.~~

Lacie. Ile hasten, Peggie, to make short returne.— 155

~~But please your honour goe unto the lodge,~~

~~We shall have butter, cheese, and venison;~~

~~And yesterday I brought for Marg[a]ret~~

~~A lustie bottle of neat clarret wine:~~

~~Thus can we feast and entertaine your grace. 160~~

Edward. Tis cheere, Lord Lacie, for an emperour,

~~If he respect the person and the place.~~

~~Come, let us in; for I will all this night~~

~~Ride post untill I come to Bacons cell.~~

~~Exeunt.~~

[Scene Ninth. Oxford.]

Enter Henrie, Emperour, Castile, Ellinor, Vandermast, Bungay.

Emperour. Trust me, Plantagenet, these Oxford schooles

~~Are richly seated neere the river side:~~

~~The mountaines [1410] full of fat and fallow deere,~~

~~The batling [1411] pastures laid [1412] with kine and flocks,~~

~~The towne gorgeous with high built colledges, 5~~

~~And schollers seemely in their grave attire,~~

~~Learned in searching principles of art.—~~

~~What is thy judgement, Jaquis Vandermast?~~

Vandermast. That lordly are the buildings of the towne,

~~Spatious the romes, and full of pleasant walkes; 10~~

~~But for the doctors, how that they be learned,~~

~~It may be meanly, for ought I can heere.~~

Bungay. I tell thee, Germane, Haspurge holds none such,

~~None red so deepe as Oxenford containes:~~

~~There are within our accademicke state 15~~

~~Men that may lecture it in Germanie~~

~~To all the doctors of your Belgicke schools.~~

Henrie. Stand to him, Bungay, charme this Vandermast,

~~And I will use thee as a royall king.~~

Vandermast. Wherein darest thou dispute with me? 20

Bungay. In what a doctor and a friar can.

Vandermast. Before rich Europes worthies put thou forth

~~The doubtfull question unto Vandermast.~~

Bungay. Let it be this,—Whether the spirites of piromancie or geomancie be most predominant in magick? 25

Vander. I say, of piromancie.

Bungay. And I, of geomancie.

Vander. The cabbalists that wright of magick spels,

~~As Hermes,[1413] Melchie,[1414] and Pithagoras,~~

~~Affirme that, mongst the quadruplicitie 30~~

~~Of elementall essence, terra is but thought~~

~~To be a punctum squarèd to [1415] the rest;~~

~~And that the compasse of ascending eliments~~

~~Exceed in bignesse as they doe in height;~~

~~Judging the concave circle of the sonne 35~~

~~To hold the rest in his circomference.~~

~~If, then, as Hermes saies, the fire be greatst,~~

~~Purest, and onely giveth shape to spirites~~

~~Then must these demones that haunt that place~~

~~Be every way superiour to the rest. 40~~

Bungay. I reason not of elementall shapes,

~~Nor tell I of the concave lattitudes,~~

~~Noting their essence nor their qualitie,~~

~~But of the spirites that piromancie calles,~~

~~And of the vigour of the geomanticke fiends. 45~~

~~I tell thee, Germane, magicke haunts the grounds,[1416]~~

~~And those strange necromantick spels~~

~~That worke such shewes and wondering in the world~~

~~Are acted by those geomanticke spirites~~

~~That Hermes calleth terræ filii. 50~~

~~The fierie spirits are but transparant shades,~~

~~That lightly passe as heralts to beare newes;~~

~~But earthly fiends, closd in the lowest deepe,~~

~~Dissever mountaines, if they be but chargd,~~

~~Being more grose and massie in their power. 55~~

Vander. Rather these earthly geomantike spirits

~~Are dull and like the place where they remaine;~~

~~For when proud Lucipher fell from the heavens,~~

~~The spirites and angels that did sin with him,~~

~~Retaind their locall essence as their faults, 60~~

~~All subject under Lunas continent:~~

~~They which offended lesse hang [1417] in the fire,~~

~~And second faults did rest within the aire;~~

~~But Lucifer and his proud hearted fiends~~

~~Were throwne into the center of the earth, 65~~

~~Having lesse understanding than the rest,~~

~~As having greater sinne and lesser grace.~~

~~Therfore such grosse and earthly spirits doe serve~~

~~For juglers, witches, and vild [1418] sorcerers;~~

~~Whereas the piromantike genii [1419] 70~~

~~Are mightie, swift, and of farre reaching power.~~

~~But graunt that geomancie hath most force;~~

~~Bungay, to please these mightie potentates,~~

~~Proove by some instance what thy art can doe.~~

Bungay. I will. 75

Emper. Now, English Harry, here begins the game;

~~We shall see sport betweene these learned men.~~

Vandermast. What wilt thou doe?

Bung. Shew thee the tree, leavd with refined gold,

~~Wheron the fearfull dragon held his seate, 80~~

~~That watcht the garden cald Hesperides [1420]~~

~~Subdued and wonne by conquering Hercules.~~

Vandermast. Well done![1421]

~~Here Bungay conjures, and the Tree appeares with the Dragon shooting fire.~~

Henrie. What say you, royall lordings,[1422] to my frier?

~~Hath he not done a point of cunning skill? 85~~

Vander. Ech scholler in the nicromantike spels

~~Can doe as much as Bungay hath performd:~~

~~But as Alcmenas basterd ras'd [1423] this tree,~~

~~So will I raise him up as when he lived,~~

~~And cause him pull the dragon from his seate, 90~~

~~And teare the branches peecemeale from the roote.—~~

~~Hercules! Prodi,[1424] prodi, Hercules!~~

~~Hercules appeares in his Lions skin.~~

~~Hercules. Quis me vult?~~

Vandermast. Joves bastard sonne, thou Libian Hercules,

~~Pull off the sprigs from off [1425] the Hesperian tree, 95~~

~~As once thou didst to win the golden fruit.~~

~~Hercules. Fiat.~~

~~Heere he begins to breake the branches.~~

Vander. Now, Bungay, if thou canst by magicke charme

~~The fiend, appearing like great Hercules,~~

~~From pulling downe the branches of the tree, 100~~

~~Then art thou worthy [1426] to be counted learned.~~

Bungay. I cannot.

Vander. Cease, Hercules, untill I give thee charge.—

~~Mightie commander of this English Ile,~~

~~Henrie, come from the stout Plantagenets, 105~~

~~Bungay is learned enough to be a frier;~~

~~But to compare with Jaquis Vandermast,~~

~~Oxford and Cambridge must go seeke their celles~~

~~To find a man to match him in his art.~~

~~I have given non-plus to the Paduans, 110~~

~~To them of Sien,[1427] Florence, and Bologna,[1428]~~

~~Reimes,[1429] Louain, and faire Rotherdam,~~

~~Franckford, Lutrech,[1430] and Orleance:~~

~~And now must Henrie, if he do me right,~~

~~Crowne me with laurell, as they all have done. 115~~

Enter Bacon.

Bacon. All haile to this roiall companie,[1431]

~~That sit to heare and see this strange dispute!—~~

~~Bungay, how standst thou as a man amazd?~~

~~What, hath the Germane acted more than thou?~~

Vandermast. What art thou that questions thus?[1431] 120

Bacon. Men call me Bacon.

Vander. Lordly thou lookest, as if that thou wert learnd;

~~Thy countenance as if science held her seate~~

~~Betweene the circled arches of thy browes.~~

Henrie. Now, Monarcks, hath the Germain found his match.

Emperour. Bestirre thee, Jaquis, take not now the foile,[1432] 126

~~Least thou doest loose what foretime thou didst gaine.~~

Vandermast. Bacon, wilt thou dispute?

Bacon. Noe,[1431] unlesse he were more learnd than Vandermast:

~~For yet, tell me, what hast thou done? 130~~

Vandermast. Raisd Hercules to ruinate that tree

~~That Bongay mounted by his magicke spels.~~

Bacon. Set Hercules to worke.

Vander. Now, Hercules, I charge thee to thy taske;

~~Pull off the golden branches from the roote. 135~~

Hercules. I dare not. Seest thou not great Bacon heere,

~~Whose frowne doth act more than thy magicke can?~~

Vandermast. By all the thrones, and dominations,

~~Vertues, powers, and mightie hierarchies,[1433]~~

~~I charge thee to obey to Vandermast. 140~~

Hercules. Bacon, that bridles headstrong Belcephon,

~~And rules Asmenoth, guider of the north,~~

~~Bindes me from yeelding unto Vandermast.~~

Hen. How now, Vandermast! have you met with your match?

Vandermast. Never before wast knowne to Vandermast 145

~~That men held devils in such obedient awe.~~

~~Bacon doth more than art, or els I faile.~~

Emperour. Why, Vandermast, art thou overcome?—

~~Bacon, dispute with him, and trie his skill.~~

Bacon. I come [1434] not, Monarckes, for to hold dispute 150

~~With such a novice as is Vandermast;~~

~~I came [1435] to have your royalties to dine~~

~~With Frier Bacon heere in Brazennose;~~

~~And, for this Germane troubles but the place,~~

~~And holds this audience with a long suspence, 155~~

~~Ile send him to his accademie hence.—~~

~~Thou, Hercules, whom Vandermast did raise,~~

~~Transport the Germane unto Haspurge straight,~~

~~That he may learne by travaile, gainst the spring,[1436]~~

~~More secret doomes and aphorisms of art. 160~~

~~Vanish the tree, and thou away with him!~~

~~Exit the Spirit with Vandermast and the Tree.~~

Emperour. Why, Bacon, whether doest thou send him?

Bacon. To Haspurge: there your highnesse at returne

~~Shall finde the Germane in his studie safe.~~

Henrie. Bacon, thou hast honoured England with thy skill, 165

~~And made faire Oxford famous by thine art:~~

~~I will be English Henrie to thy selfe;—~~

~~But tell me, shall we dine with thee to-day?~~

Bacon. With me, my lord; and while I fit my cheere,

~~See where Prince Edward comes to welcome you, 170~~

~~Gratious as [1437] the morning starre of heaven.~~

[Exit.

Enter Edward, Lacie, Warren, Ermsbie.

Emperour. Is this Prince Edward, Henries royall sonne?

~~How martiall is the figure of his face!~~

~~Yet lovely and beset with amorets.[1438]~~

Henrie. Ned, where hast thou been? 175

Edward. At Framingham, my lord, to trie your buckes

~~If they could scape the [1439] teisers or the toile.~~

~~But hearing of these lordly potentates~~

~~Landed, and prograst up to Oxford towne,~~

~~I posted to give entertaine to them: 180~~

~~Chiefe to the Almaine monarke; next to him,~~

~~And joynt with him, Castile and Saxonie~~

~~Are welcome as they may be to the English court.~~

~~Thus for the men: but see, Venus appeares,~~

~~Or one that overmatcheth [1440] Venus in her shape! 185~~

~~Sweete Ellinor, beauties highswelling pride,~~

~~Rich natures glorie and her wealth at once,~~

~~Faire of all faires, welcome to Albion;~~

~~Welcome to me, and welcome to thine owne,~~

~~If that thou dainst the welcome from my selfe. 190~~

Ellinor. Martiall Plantagenet, Henries high minded sonne,

~~The marke that Ellinor did count her aime,~~

~~I likte thee fore I saw thee: now I love,~~

~~And so as in so short a time I may;~~

~~Yet so as time shall never breake that so, 195~~

~~And therefore so accept of Ellinor.~~

Castile. Feare not, my lord, this couple will agree,

~~If love may creepe into their wanton eyes:—~~

~~And therefore, Edward, I accept thee heere,~~

~~Without suspence, as my adopted sonne. 200~~

Henrie. Let me that joy in these consorting greets,

~~And glorie in these honors done to Ned,~~

~~Yeeld thankes for all these favours to my sonne,~~

~~And rest a true Plantagenet to all.~~

~~Enter Miles with a cloth and trenchers and salt.~~

Miles. Salvete, omnes reges, that govern your greges,[1441] 205

~~In Saxonie and Spaine, in England and in Almaine!~~

~~For all this frolicke rable must I cover the [1442] table~~

~~With trenchers, salt, and cloth; and then looke for your broth.~~

Emperour. What pleasant fellow is this?

Henrie. Tis, my lord, Doctor Bacons poore scholler. 210

Miles [aside]. My maister hath made me sewer [1443] of these great lords; and, God knowes, I am as serviceable at a table as a sow is under an apple-tree: tis no matter; their cheere shall not be great, and therefore what skils where the salt stand, before or behinde?

~~[Exit.]~~

Castile. These schollers knowes more skill in actiomes, 215

~~How to use quips and sleights of sophistrie,~~

~~Than for to cover courtly for a king.~~

~~[Re]enter Miles with a message of pottage and broth; and, after him, Bacon.~~

Miles. Spill, sir? why, doe you thinke I never carried twopeny chop [1444] before in my life?——

~~By your leave, nobile decus, for here comes Doctor Bacons pecus,[1445]~~

~~Being in his full age to carrie a messe of pottage. 221~~

Bacon. Lordings, admire not if your cheere be this,

~~For we must keepe our accademicke fare;~~

~~No riot where Philosophie doth raine:~~

~~And therefore, Henrie, place these potentates, 225~~

~~And bid them fall unto their frugall cates.~~

Emp. Presumptuous Frier! what, scoffst thou at a king?

~~What, doest thou taunt us with thy pesants fare,~~

~~And give us cates fit [1446] for countrey swaines?——~~

~~Henrie, proceeds this jest of thy consent, 230~~

~~To twit us with such [1447] a pittance of such price?~~

~~Tell me, and Fredericke will not greeve the[e] long.~~

Henrie. By Henries honour, and the royall faith

~~The English monarcke beareth to his friend,~~

~~I knew not of the frier's feeble fare, 235~~

~~Nor am I pleasd he entertaines you thus.~~

Bacon. Content thee, Fredericke, for I shewd the [1448] cates,

~~To let thee see how schollers use to feede;~~

~~How little meate refines our English wits.——~~

~~Miles, take away, and let it be thy dinner. 240~~

Miles. Marry, sir, I wil. This day shall be a festival day with me;[1449]

~~For I shall exceed in the highest degree.~~

~~[Exit Miles.]~~

Bacon. I tell thee, monarch, all the Germane peeres

~~Could not affoord thy entertainment such,~~

~~So roiall and so full of maiestie, 245~~

~~As Bacon will present to Fredericke;~~

~~The basest waiter that attends thy cups~~

~~Shall be in honours greater than thy selfe;~~

~~And for thy cates, rich Alexandria drugges [1450]~~

~~Fecht by carveils [1451] from Aegypts richest straights, 250~~

~~Found in the wealthy strond of Affrica,~~

~~Shall royallize the table of my king;~~

~~Wines richer than the Gyptian courtisan~~

~~Quaft to Augustus kingly countermatch,~~

~~Shalbe carrowst in English Henries feasts; 255~~

~~Candie shall yeeld the richest of her canes;~~

~~Persia, downe her volga [1452] by canows,~~

~~Send down the secrets of her spicerie;~~

~~The Africke dates, mirabolanes [1453] of Spaine,~~

~~Conserves and suckets [1454] from Tiberias, 260~~

~~Cates from Judea, choiser than the lampe [1455]~~

~~That fiered Rome with sparkes of gluttonie,~~

~~Shall bewtifie the board for [1456] Fredericke:~~

~~And therfore grudge not at a frier's feast.~~

~~[Exeunt.]~~

[Scene Tenth. Near the Keepers lodge in Fresingfield.]

Enter two gentlemen, Lambert and Serlsby [1457] with the Keeper.

Lambert. Come, frolicke keeper of our lieges game,

~~Whose table spred hath ever venison~~

~~And jacks [1458] of wines to welcome passengers,~~

~~Know I am in love with jolly Marg[a]ret,~~

~~That over-shines our damsels as the moone 5~~

~~Darkneth the brightest sparkles of the night.~~

~~In Laxfield [1459] heere my land and living lies:~~

~~Ile make thy daughter joynter [1460] of it all,~~

~~So thou consent to give her to my wife;~~

~~And I can spend five hundreth markes a yeare. 10~~

Serlbie. I am the landslord,[1461] Keeper, of thy holds,

~~By coppie all thy living lies in me;~~

~~Laxfield did never see me raise my due:~~

~~I will infeofe faire Marg[a]ret in all,~~

~~So she will take her to a lustie squire. 15~~

Keeper. Now, courteous gentls, if the keepers girle

~~Hath pleasd the liking fancie of you both,~~

~~And with her beutie hath subdued your thoughts,~~

~~Tis doubtfull to decide the question.~~

~~It joyes me that such men of great esteeme 20~~

~~Should lay their liking on this base estate,~~

~~And that her state should grow so fortunate~~

~~To be a wife to meaner men than you:~~

~~But sith such squires will stoop to keepers fee,[1462]~~

~~I will, to avoid displeasure of you both, 25~~

~~Call Margret forth, and she shall make her choise.~~

~~Exit.~~

Lambert. Content,[1463]—Keeper; send her unto us.

~~Why, Serlsby, is thy wife so lately dead,~~

~~Are all thy loves so lightly passed over,~~

~~As thou canst wed before the yeare be [1464] out? 30~~

Serlsby. I live not, Lambert, to content the dead,

~~Nor was I wedded but for life to her:~~

~~The grave [1465] ends and begins a maried state.~~

Enter Margret.

Lambert. Peggie, the lovelie flower of all townes,

~~Suffolks fair Hellen, and rich Englands star, 35~~

~~Whose beautie, tempered with her huswiferie,~~

~~Maks England talke of merry Frisingfield!~~

Serlsby. I cannot tricke it up with poesies,

~~Nor paint my passions with comparisons,~~

~~Nor tell a tale [1466] of Phebus and his loves: 40~~

~~But this beleve me,—Laxfield here is mine,~~

~~Of auncient rent seven hundred pounds a yeare,~~

~~And if thou canst but love a countrie squire,~~

~~I will infeoffe thee, Marg[a]ret, in all:~~

~~I cannot flatter; trie me, if thou please. 45~~

Mar. Brave neighbouring squires, the stay of Suffolks clime,

~~A keepers daughter is too base in gree [1467]~~

~~To match with men accoumpted of such worth:~~

~~But might I not displease, I would reply.~~

Lambert. Say, Peggy; nought shall make us discontent. 50

Mar. Then, gentils, note that love hath little stay,

~~Nor can the flames that Venus sets on fire~~

~~Be kindled but by fancies motion:~~

~~Then pardon, gentils, if a maids reply~~

~~Be doubtful, while I have debated with my selfe 55~~

~~Who, or of whome, love shall constraine me like.~~

Serlsby. Let it be me; and trust me, Marg[a]ret,

~~The meads invironed with the silver streames,~~

~~Whose batling pastures fatneth [1468] all my flockes,~~

~~Yeelding forth fleeces stapled [1469] with such woole 60~~

~~As Lempster cannot yeelde more finer stuffe,~~

~~And fortie kine with faire and burnisht [1470] heads,~~

~~With strouting [1471] duggs, that paggle [1472] to the ground,~~

~~Shall serve thy dary, if thou wed with me.~~

Lambert. Let passe the countrie wealth, as flocks and kine, 65

~~And lands that wave with Ceres golden sheves,~~

~~Filling my barnes with plentie of the fieldes;~~

~~But, Peggie, if thou wed thy selfe to me,~~

~~Thou shall have garments of imbrodred silke,~~

~~Lawnes, and rich networks for thy head attyre: 70~~

~~Costlie shalbe thy fare abiliments,~~

~~If thou wilt be but Lamberts loving wife.~~

Margret. Content you, gentles, you have proferd faire,

~~And more than fits a countrie maids degree:~~

~~But give me leave to counsaile me a time, 75~~

~~For fancie bloomes not at the first assault;~~

~~Give me ...[1473]but ten days' respite, and I will replye,~~

~~Which or to whom my selfe affectionats.~~

Serlsby. Lambert, I tell thee, thourt importunate;

~~Such beautie fits not such a base esquire: 80~~

~~It is for Serlsby to have Marg[a]ret.~~

Lamb. Thinkst thou with wealth to over reach me?

~~Serlsby, I scorne to brooke thy country braves:~~

~~I dare thee, coward, to maintaine this wrong,~~

~~At dint of rapier, single in the field. 85~~

Serlsby. Ile aunswere, Lambert, what I have avoucht.—

~~Margret, farewel; another time shall serve.~~

Exit Serlsby.

Lambert. Ile follow.—Peggie, farewell to thy selfe;

~~Listen how well Ile answer for thy love.~~

Exit Lambert.

Margeret. How fortune tempers lucky happes with frowns, 90

~~And wrongs [1474] me with the sweets of my delight!~~

~~Love is my blisse, and love is now my bale.~~

~~Shall I be Hellen in my forward [1475] fates,~~

~~As I am Hellen in my matchles hue,~~

~~And set rich Suffolke with my face afire? 95~~

~~If lovely Lacie were but with his Peggy?~~

~~The cloudie darckenesse of his bitter frowne~~

~~Would check the pride of those aspiring squires.~~

~~Before the terme of ten dayes be expired,~~

~~When as they looke for aunswere of their loves, 100~~

~~My lord will come to merry Frisingfield,~~

~~And end their fancies and their follies both.—~~

~~Til when, Peggie, be blith and of good cheere.~~

~~Enter a Post with a letter and a bag of gold.~~

Post. Fair lovely damsell, which way leads this path?

~~How might I post me unto Frisingfield? 105~~

~~Which footpath leadeth to the keepers lodge?~~

Margeret. Your way is ready, and this path is right:

~~My selfe doe dwell hereby in Frisingfield;~~

~~And if the keeper be the man you seeke,~~

~~I am his daughter: may I know the cause?~~

Post. Lovely, and once beloved of my lord,—

~~No mervaile if his eye was lodgd so low,~~

~~When brighter bewtie is not in the heavens:~~

~~The Lincolne earle hath sent you letters here,~~

~~And, with them, just an hundred pounds in gold. 115~~

~~Sweete, bonny wench, read them, and make reply.~~

Margret. The scrowls that Jove sent Danae,

~~Wrapt in rich closures of fine burnisht gold,~~

~~Were not more welcome than these lines to me.~~

~~Tell me, whilst that I doe unrip the seales, 120~~

~~Lives Lacie well? how fares my lovely lord?~~

Post. Well, if that wealth may make men to live well.

~~The letter and Margret reads it.~~

The bloomes of the Almond tree grow in a night, and vanish in a morne; the flies hæmere,[1476] (faire Peggie), take life with the Sun, and die with the dew; fancie that slippeth in with a gase, goeth out with a winke; and too timely loves have ever the shortest length. I write this as thy grefe, and my folly, who at Frisingfield lovd that which time hath taught me to be but meane dainties: eyes are dissemblers, and fancie is but queasie; therefore know, Margret, I have chosen a Spanish Ladie to be my wife, chiefe waighting woman to the Princesse Ellinour; a Lady faire, and no lesse faire than thy selfe, honorable and wealthy. In that I forsake thee, I leave thee to thine own liking; and for thy dowrie I have sent thee an hundred pounds; and ever assure thee of my favour, which shall availe thee and thine much. Farewell.

Not thine, nor his owne,

Edward Lacie.

~~Fond Atæ, doomer of bad boading fates, 137~~

~~That wrappes [1477] proud Fortune in thy snaky locks,~~

~~Didst thou inchaunt my byrth-day with such stars~~

~~As lightned mischeefe from their infancie? 140~~

~~If heavens had vowd, if stars had made decree,~~

~~To shew on me their froward influence,~~

~~If Lacie had but lovd, heavens, hell, and all,~~

~~Could not have wrongd the patience of my minde.~~

Post. It grieves me, damsell; but the earle is forst 145

~~To love the lady by the kings command.~~

Margret. The wealth combinde within the English shelves,[1478]

~~Europes commaunder, nor the English king,~~

~~Should not have movde the love of Peggie from her lord.[1479]~~

Post. What answere shall I returne to my lord? 150

Margret. First, for thou cam'st from Lacie whom I lovd,—

~~Ah, give me leave to sigh at every [1480] thought!—~~

~~Take thou, my friend, the hundred pound he sent;~~

~~For Margrets resolution craves no dower:~~

~~The world shalbe to her as vanitie; 155~~

~~Wealth, trash; love, hate; pleasure, dispaire:~~

~~For I will straight to stately Fremingham,~~

~~And in the abby there be shorne a nun,~~

~~And yeld my loves and libertie to God.~~

~~Fellow, I give thee this, not for the newes, 160~~

~~For those be hatefull unto Marg[a]ret,~~

~~But for thart Lacies man, once Margrets love.~~

Post. What I have heard, what passions I have seene,

~~Ile make report of them unto the Earle.~~

~~[Exit Post.]~~

Margret. Say that she joyes his fancies be at rest, 165

~~And praies that his misfortune [1481] may be hers.~~

~~Exit.~~

[Scene Eleventh. Frier Bacons cell.]

~~Enter Frier Bacon drawing the courtaines with a white stick, a booke in his hand, and a lampe lighted by him; and the Brasen Head, and Miles with weapons by him.~~

Bacon. Miles, where are you?

Miles. Here, sir.

Bacon. How chaunce you tarry so long?

Miles. Thinke you that the watching of the Brazen Head craves no furniture? I warrant you, sir, I have so armed my selfe [1482] that if all your devills come, I will not feare them an inch. 6

Bacon. Miles, thou knowst that I have dived into hell,

~~And sought the darkest pallaces of fiendes;~~

~~That with my magic spels great Belcephon~~

~~Hath left his lodge and kneeled at my cell; 10~~

~~The rafters of the earth rent from the poles,~~

~~And three-formd Luna hid her silver looks,~~

~~Trembling upon her concave contenent,[1483]~~

~~When Bacon red upon his magick booke.~~

~~With seven years tossing nigromanticke charmes, 15~~

~~Poring upon darke Hecats principles,~~

~~I have framd out a monstrous head of brasse,~~

~~That, by the inchaunting forces of the devil,~~

~~Shall tell out strange and uncoth Aphorismes,~~

~~And girt faire England with a wall of brasse. 20~~

~~Bungay and I have watcht these threescore dayes,~~

~~And now our vitall spirites crave some rest:~~

~~If Argos [1484] livd, and had his hundred eyes,~~

~~They could not overwatch Phobeters [1485] night.~~

~~Now, Miles, in thee rests Frier Bacons weale; 25~~

~~The honour and renowne of all his life~~

~~Hangs in the watching of this Brazen-Head;~~

~~Therefore I charge thee by the immortall God,~~

~~That holds the soules of men within his fist,[1486]~~

~~This night thou watch; for ere the morning star 30~~

~~Sends out his glorious glister on the north,~~

~~The head will speake: then, Miles, upon thy life,~~

~~Wake me; for then by magick art Ile worke~~

~~To end my seven yeares taske with excellence.~~

~~If that a winke [1487] but shut thy watchfull eye, 35~~

~~Then farewell Bacons glory and his fame!~~

~~Draw closse the courtaines, Miles: now, for thy life,~~

Be watchfull, and— Here he falleth asleepe.

Miles. So; I thought you would talke your selfe a sleepe anon; and 'tis no mervaile, for Bungay on the dayes, and he on the nights, have watcht just these ten and fifty dayes: now this is the night, and tis my taske, and no more. Now, Jesus blesse me, what a goodly head it is! and a nose! you talke of nos autem glorificare;[1488] but heres a nose that I warrant may be cald nos autem popelare[1489] for the people of the parish. Well, I am furnished with weapons: now, sir, I will set me downe by a post, and make it as good as a watch-man to wake me, if I chaunce to slumber. I thought, Goodman Head, I would call you out of your memento[1490] ...[1491] Passion a God, I have almost broke my pate![1492] Up, Miles, to your taske; take your browne bill [1493] in your hand; heeres some of your maister's hobgoblins abroad. 51

~~With this a great noise. The Head speakes.~~

Head. Time is.

Miles. Time is! Why, Master Brazenhead, you have such a capitall nose, and answer you with sillables, 'Time is'? Is this my all [1494] maister's cunning, to spend seven years studie about 'Time is'? Well, sir, it may be we shall have some better orations of it anon: well, Ile watch you as narrowly as ever you were watcht, and Ile play with you as the nightingale with the slowworme;[1495] Ile set a pricke against my brest. Now rest there, Miles.... Lord have mercy upon me, I have almost killd my selfe.[1496] Up, Miles; list how they rumble. 61

Head. Time was.

Miles. Well, Frier Bacon, you spent [1497] your seven yeares studie well, that can make your Head speake but two wordes at once, 'Time was.' Yea, marie, time was when my maister was a wise man, but that was before he began to make the Brasen-head. You shall lie while your arce ake, and your Head speake no better. Well, I will watch, and walke up and downe, and be a perepatetian and a philosopher of Aristotles stampe. What, a freshe noise? Take thy pistols in hand, Miles. 70

~~Heere the Head speakes; and a lightning flasheth forth, and a hand appears that breaketh down the Head with a hammer.~~

Head. Time is past.[1498]

Miles. Maister, maister, up! hels broken loose; your Head speakes; and theres such a thunder and lightning, that I warrant all Oxford is up in armes. Out of your bed, and take a browne bill in your hand; the latter day is come. 75

Bacon. Miles, I come.[1499] Oh, passing warily watcht!

~~Bacon will make thee next himselfe in love.~~

~~When spake the Head?~~

Miles. When spake the Head! did not you say that hee should tell strange principles of philosophie? Why, sir, it speaks but two wordes at a time. 81

Bacon. Why, villaine, hath it spoken oft?

Miles. Oft! I, marie, hath it, thrice; but in all those three times it hath uttered but seven wordes.

Bacon. As how? 85

Miles. Marrie, sir, the first time he said 'Time is,' as if Fabius Cumentator [1500] should have pronounst a sentence; [the second time [1501]] he said, 'Time was'; and the third time, with thunder and lightning, as in great choller, he said, 'Time is past.'

Bacon. 'Tis past indeed. A[h], villaine, time is past: 90

~~My life, my fame, my glorie, all [1502] are past!—~~

~~Bacon, the turrets of thy hope are ruind downe,~~

~~Thy seven yeares studie lieth in the dust;~~

~~Thy Brazen-head lies broken through a slave,~~

~~That watcht, and would not when the Head did will.— 95~~

~~What said the Head first?~~

Miles. Even, sir, 'Time is.'

Bacon. Villain, if thou had'st cald to Bacon then,

~~If thou hadst watcht, and wakte the sleepie frier,~~

~~The Brazen-head had uttered aphorismes, 100~~

~~And England had been circled round with brasse:~~

~~But proud Astmeroth,[1503] ruler of the north,~~

~~And Demegorgon,[1504] maister of the fates,~~

~~Grudge that a mortall man should worke so much.~~

~~Hell trembled at my deepe commanding spels, 105~~

~~Fiendes frownd to see a man their overmatch;~~

~~Bacon might bost more than a man might boast;~~

~~But now the braves of Bacon hath an end,~~

~~Europes conceit of Bacon hath an end,~~

~~His seven yeares practise sorteth to ill end. 110~~

~~And, villaine, sith my glorie hath an end,~~

~~I will appoint thee fatal [1505] to some end.~~

~~Villaine, avoid! get thee from Bacons sight!~~

~~Vagrant, go rome and range about the world,~~

~~And perish as a vagabond on earth! 115~~

Miles. Why, then, sir, you forbid me your service?

Bacon. My service, villaine, with a fatall curse,

~~That direfull plagues and mischiefe fall on thee. 118~~

Miles. Tis no matter, I am against you with the old proverb,—The more the fox is curst,[1506] the better he fares. God be with you, sir: Ile take but a booke in my hand, a wide sleeved gowne on my backe, and a crowned cap [1507] on my head, and see if I can want promotion.

Bacon. Some fiend or ghost haunt on thy wearie steps,

~~Untill they doe transport thee quicke to hell: 125~~

~~For Bacon shall have never merrie day,~~

~~To loose the fame and honour of his Head.~~

~~Exit.~~

[Scene Twelfth. At Court.]

Enter Emperour, Castile, Henrie, Ellinor, Edward, Lacie, Raphe.

Emper. Now, lovely Prince, the prince [1508] of Albions wealth,

~~How fares the Lady Ellinor and you?~~

~~What, have you courted and found Castile fit~~

~~To answer England in equivolence?~~

~~Wilt be a match twixt bonny Nell and thee? 5~~

Edw. Should Paris enter in the courts of Greece,

~~And not lie fetter'd in faire Hellen's lookes?~~

~~Or Phœbus scape those piercing amorits~~

~~That Daphne glaunsed at his deitie?~~

~~Can Edward, then, sit by a flame and freeze, 10~~

~~Whose heat puts Hellen and faire Daphne downe?~~

~~Now, Monarcks, aske the ladie if we gree.~~

Hen. What, madam, hath my son found grace or no?

Ellinor. Seeing, my lord, his lovely counterfeit,

~~And hearing how his minde and shape agreed, 15~~

~~I come [1509] not, troopt with all this warlike traine,~~

~~Doubting of love, but so effectionat~~

~~As [1510] Edward hath in England what he wonne in Spaine.~~

Castile. A match, my lord; these wantons needes must love:

~~Men must have wives, and women will be wed: 20~~

~~Lets hast the day to honour up the rites.~~

Raphe. Sirha Harry, shall Ned marry Nell?

Henry. I, Raphe; how then?

Raphe. Marrie, Harrie, follow my counsaile: send for Frier Bacon to marrie them, for heele so conjure him and her with his nigromancie, that they shall love togither like pigge and lambe whilest they live. 27

Castile. But hearst thou, Raphe, art thou content to have Ellinor to thy ladie?

Raphe. I, so she will promise me two things. 30

Castile. Whats that, Raphe?

Raphe. That shee will never scold with Ned, nor fight with me.—Sirha Harry, I have put her downe with a thing unpossible.

Henry. Whats that, Raphe? 34

Raphe. Why, Harrie, didst thou ever see that a woman could both hold her tongue and her handes? No: but when egge-pies growes on apple-trees, then will thy gray mare proove a bag-piper.

Emperour. What saies [1511] the Lord of Castile and the Earle of Lincolne, that they are in such earnest and secret talke?

Castile. I stand, my lord, amazed at his talke, 40

~~How he discourseth of the constancie~~

~~Of one surnam'd, for beauties excellence,~~

~~The Faire Maid of merrie Fresingfield.~~

Henrie. Tis true, my lord, tis wondrous for to heare;

~~Her beautie passing Marces [1512] parramour, 45~~

~~Her virgins right [1513] as rich as Vestas was:~~

~~Lacie and Ned hath told me miracles.~~

Castile. What saies Lord Lacie? shall she be his wife?

Lacie. Or els Lord Lacie is unfit to live.—

~~May it please your highnesse give me leave to post 50~~

~~To Fresingfield, Ile fetch the bonny girle,~~

~~And proove, in true apparance at the court,~~

~~What I have vouched often with my tongue.~~

Henrie. Lacie, go to the quirie [1514] of my stable,

~~And take such coursers as shall fit thy turne: 55~~

~~Hie thee to Fresingfield, and bring home the lasse,[1515]~~

~~And, for her fame flies through the English coast,~~

~~If it may please the Ladie Ellinor,~~

~~One day shall match your excellence and her.~~

Ellinor. We Castile ladies are not very coy; 60

~~Your highnesse may command a greater boone:~~

~~And glad were I to grace the Lincolne earl~~

~~With being partner of his marriage day.~~

Edward. Gramercie, Nell, for I do love the lord,

~~As he thats second to my selfe [1516] in love. 65~~

Raphe. You love her?—Madam Nell, never beleeve him you, though he sweares he loves you.

Ellinor. Why, Raphe?

Raphe. Why, his love is like unto a tapsters glasse that is broken with every tuch; for he loved the faire maid of Fresingfield once out of all hoe.[1517]—Nay, Ned, never wincke upon me: I care not, I.

Henrie. Raphe tels all; you shall have a good secretarie of him.— 73

~~But, Lacie, haste thee post to Fresingfield;~~

~~For ere thou hast fitted all things for her state, 75~~

~~The solemne marriage day will be at hand.~~

Lacie. I go, my Lord.

~~Exit Lacie.~~

Emperour. How shall we passe this day, my lord?

Henrie. To horse, my lord; the day is passing faire,

~~Weele flie the partridge, or go rouse the deere. 80~~

~~Follow, my lords; you shall not want for sport.~~

~~Exeunt.~~

[Scene Thirteenth. Frier Bacons cell.]

~~Enter Frier Bacon with Frier Bungay to his cell.~~

Bungay. What meanes the frier that frolickt it of late,

~~To sit as melancholie in his cell [1518]~~

~~As if he had neither lost nor wonne to-day?~~

Bacon. Ah, Bungay,[1519] ... my Brazen-head is spol'd,

~~My glorie gone, my seven yeares studie lost! 5~~

~~The fame of Bacon, bruted through the world,~~

~~Shall end and perish with this deepe disgrace.~~

Bun. Bacon hath built foundation of [1520] his fame

~~So surely on the wings of true report,~~

~~With acting strange and uncoth miracles, 10~~

~~As this cannot infringe what he deserves.~~

Bacon. Bungay, sit down, for by prospective skill

~~I find this day shall fall out ominous:~~

~~Some deadly act shall tide me ere I sleep;~~

~~But what and wherein little can I gesse, 15~~

~~My minde is heavy, what so ere shall hap.[1521]~~

~~Enter two Schollers, sonnes to Lambert and Serlby. Knocke.~~

~~Whose that knocks?~~

Bungay. Two schollers that desires to speake with you.

Bacon. Bid them come in.—

~~Now, my youths, what would you have? 20~~

1 Scholler. Sir, we are Suffolkemen and neighbouring friends;

~~Our fathers in their countries lustie squires;~~

~~Their lands adjoyne: in Crackfield [1522] mine doth dwell,~~

~~And his in Laxfield. We are colledge-mates,~~

~~Sworne brothers, as our fathers live as friendes. 25~~

Bacon. To what end is all this?

2 Scholler. Hearing your worship kept within your cell

~~A glasse prospective, wherin men might see~~

~~What so their thoughts or hearts desire could wish,~~

~~We come to know how that our fathers fare. 30~~

Bacon. My glasse is free for every honest man.

~~Sit downe, and you shall see ere long,[1523]~~

~~How or in what state your friendly fathers live.[1524]~~

~~Meane while, tell me your names.~~

Lambert. Mine Lambert. 35

2 Scholler. And mine Serlsbie.

Bacon. Bungay, I smell there will be [1525] a tragedie.

~~Enter[1526] Lambert and Serlsbie with rapiers and daggers.~~

Lambert. Serlsby, thou hast [1525] kept thine houre [1525] like a man;

~~Th'art worthie of the title of a squire,~~

~~That durst, for proofe of thy affection 40~~

~~And for thy mistresse favour, prize [1527] thy bloud.~~

~~Thou knowst what words did passe at Fresingfield,~~

~~Such shamelesse braves as manhood cannot brooke:~~

~~I,[1528] for I skorne to beare such piercing taunts,—~~

~~Prepare thee, Serlsbie; one of us will die. 45~~

Serlsbie. Thou seest I single [meet] thee [in] the field,[1529]

~~And what I spake, Ile maintaine with my sword:~~

~~Stand on thy guard, I cannot scold it out.~~

~~And if thou kill me, thinke I have a sonne,~~

~~That lives in Oxford in the Brodgateshall,[1530] 50~~

~~Who will revenge his fathers bloud with bloud.~~

Lambert. And, Serlsbie, I have there a lusty boy,

~~That dares at weapon buckle with thy sonne,~~

~~And lives in Broadgates too, as well as thine:~~

~~But draw thy rapier, for weele have a bout.[1531] 55~~

Bacon. Now, lustie yonkers, looke within the glasse,[1532]

~~And tell me if you can discerne your sires.~~

1 Scol. Serlsbie, tis hard; thy father offers wrong

~~To combat with my father in the field.~~

2 Schol. Lambert, thou liest, my fathers is the abuse,[1533] 60

~~And thou shalt find it, if my father harme.[1534]~~

Bungay. How goes it, sirs?

1 Scholler. Our fathers are in combat hard by Fresingfield.

Bacon. Sit still, my friendes, and see the event.

Lambert. Why standst thou, Serlsbie? doubtst thou of thy life?

~~A venie,[1535] man! fair Margret craves so much. 66~~

Serlsbie. Then this for her.

1 Scholler. Ah, well thrust!

2 Scholler. But marke the ward.

~~They[1536] fight and kill ech other.~~

Lambert. Oh, I am slaine! 70

Serlsbie. And I,—Lord have mercie on me!

1 Scholler. My father slaine!—Serlby, ward that.

2 Scholler. And so is mine![1537]—Lambert, Ile quite thee well.

~~The two Schollers stab on[e] another.~~

Bungay. O strange strattagem!

Bacon. See, Frier, where the fathers [1538] both lie dead!— 75

~~Bacon, thy magicke doth effect this massacre:~~

~~This glasse prospective worketh manie woes;~~

~~And therefore seeing these brave lustie Brutes,[1539]~~

~~These friendly youths, did perish by thine art,~~

~~End all thy magicke and thine art at once. 80~~

~~The poniard that did end the [1540] fatall [1541] lives,~~

~~Shall breake the cause efficiat [1542] of their woes.~~

~~So fade the glasse, and end with it the showes~~

That nigromancie did infuse the christall with. He breakes the glass.

Bungay. What means learned Bacon thus to breake his glasse?

Bacon. I tell thee, Bungay, it repents me sore 86

~~That ever Bacon meddled in this art.~~

~~The houres I have spent in piromanticke spels,~~

~~The fearefull tossing in the latest night~~

~~Of papers full of nigromanticke charmes, 90~~

~~Conjuring and adjuring divels and fiends,~~

~~With stole and albe and strange pentaganon;[1543]~~

~~The wresting of the holy name of God,~~

~~As Sother,[1544] Elaim, and Adonaie,[1545]~~

~~Alpha, Manoth, and Tetragramiton,[1546] 95~~

~~With praying to the five-fould [1547] powers of heaven,~~

~~Are instances that Bacon must be damde~~

~~For using divels to countervaile his God.—~~

~~Yet, Bacon, cheere thee, drowne not in despaire:~~

~~Sinnes have their salves, repentance can do much;[1548] 100~~

~~Thinke Mercie sits where Justice holds her seate,~~

~~And from those wounds those bloudie Jews did pierce,~~

~~Which by thy magicke oft did bleed a fresh,~~

~~From thence for thee the dew of mercy drops,~~

~~To wash the wrath of hie Jehovahs ire, 105~~

~~And make thee as a new borne babe from sinne.—~~

~~Bungay, Ile spend the remnant of my life~~

~~In pure devotion, praying to my God~~

~~That he would save what Bacon vainly lost.~~

~~Exit.~~

[Scene Fourteenth. A Meadow near the Keepers lodge.]

Enter Margret in nuns apparel, Keeper, her father, and their Friend.

Keep. Margret, be not so headstrong in these vows:

~~O, burie not such beautie in a cell,~~

~~That England hath held famous for the hue!~~

~~Thy fathers haire like to the silver bloomes~~

~~That beautifie the shrubs of Affrica, 5~~

~~Shall fall before the dated time of death,~~

~~Thus to forgoe his lovely Marg[a]ret.~~

Margret. A[h], father, when the hermonie of heaven

~~Soundeth the measures of a lively faith,~~

~~The vaine illusions of this flattering world 10~~

~~Seemes odious to the thoughts of Marg[a]ret.~~

~~I loved once,—Lord Lacie was my love;~~

~~And now I hate my selfe for that I lovd,~~

~~And doated more on him than on my God;~~

~~For this I scourge my selfe with sharpe repents. 15~~

~~But now the touch of such aspiring sinnes~~

~~Tels me all love is lust but love of heavens:~~

~~That beautie usde for love is vanitie;~~

~~The world containes naught but alluring baites,~~

~~Pride,[1549] flatterie, and inconstant thoughts. 20~~

~~To shun the pricks of death,[1550] I leave the world,~~

~~And vow to meditate on heavenly blisse,~~

~~To live in Framingham a holy nunne,~~

~~Holy and pure in conscience and in deed;~~

~~And for to wish all maides to learne of me 25~~

~~To seek heavens joy before earths vanitie.~~

Friend. And will you, then, Margret, be shorn a nunne, and so leave us all?

Margret. Now farewell world, the engin of all woe!

~~Farewell to friends and father! Welcome Christ! 30~~

~~Adiew to daintie robes! this base attire~~

~~Better befits an humble minde to God~~

~~Than all the show of rich abilliments.~~

~~Love [1551] ... oh love!—and, with fond love, farewell~~

~~Sweet Lacie, whom I loved once so deare! 35~~

~~Ever be well, but never in my thoughts,~~

~~Least I offend to think on Lacies love:~~

~~But even to that, as to the rest, farewell.~~

~~Enter Lacie, Warrain, Ermsbie, booted and spurd.~~

Lacie. Come on, my wags, weere near the keepers lodge.

~~Heere have I oft walkt in the watrie meades, 40~~

~~And chatted with my lovely Marg[a]ret.~~

Warraine. Sirha Ned, is not this the keeper?

Lacie. Tis the same.

Ermsbie. The old lecher hath gotten holy mutton to him; a nunne, my lord. 45

Lacie. Keeper, how farest thou? holla, man, what cheere?

~~How doth Peggie, thy daughter and my love?~~

Keeper. Ah, good my lord! O, wo is me for Pegge!

~~See where she stands clad in her nunnes attire,~~

~~Readie for to be shorne in Framingham: 50~~

~~She leaves the world because she left [1552] your love.~~

~~Oh, good my lord, perswade her if you can!~~

Lacie. Why, how now, Margret! what, a malecontent?

~~A nunne? what holy father taught you this,~~

~~To taske your selfe to such a tedious life 55~~

~~As die a maid? twere injurie to me,~~

~~To smother up such bewtie in a cell.~~

Margret. Lord Lacie, thinking of thy [1553] former [1554] misse,

~~How fond the prime of wanton yeares were spent~~

~~In love (Oh, fie upon that fond conceite, 60~~

~~Whose hap and essence hangeth in the eye!),~~

~~I leave both love and loves content at once,~~

~~Betaking me to him that is true love,~~

~~And leaving all the world for love of him.~~

Lacy. Whence, Peggie, comes this metamorphosis? 65

~~What, shorne a nun, and I have from the court~~

~~Posted with coursers to convaie thee hence~~

~~To Windsore, where our mariage shalbe kept!~~

~~Thy wedding robes are in the tailors hands.~~

~~Come, Peggy, leave these peremptorie vowes. 70~~

Margret. Did not my lord resigne his interest,

~~And make divorce 'twixt Marg[a]ret and him?~~

Lacie. Twas but to try sweete Peggies constancie.

~~But will fair Margret leave her love and lord?~~

Margret. Is not heavens joy before earths fading blisse, 75

~~And life above sweeter than life in love?~~

Lacy. Why,[1555] then, Margret will be shorne a nun?

Marg. Margret hath made a vow which may not be revokt.

Warraine. We cannot stay, my lord;[1555] and if she be so strict,

~~Our leisure graunts us not to woo a fresh. 80~~

Ermsby. Choose you, fair damsell,—yet the choise is yours,—

~~Either a solemne nunnerie or the court,~~

~~God or Lord Lacie: which [1556] contents you best,~~

~~To be a nun or els Lord Lacies wife?~~

Lacie. A good motion.—Peggie, your answer must be short.

Margret. The flesh is frayle: my lord doth know it well 86

~~That when he comes with his inchanting face,~~

~~What so ere betyde, I cannot say him nay.~~

~~Off goes the habite of a maidens heart,~~

~~And, seeing fortune will, faire Fremingham, 90~~

~~And all the shew of holy nuns, farewell!~~

~~Lacie, for me, if he wilbe my lord.~~

Lacie. Peggie, thy lord, thy love, thy husband.[1557]

~~Trust me, by truth of knighthood, that the king~~

~~Staies for to marry matchles Ellinour, 95~~

~~Until I bring thee richly to the court,~~

~~That one day may both marry her and thee.—~~

~~How saist thou, Keeper? art thou glad of this?~~

Keeper. As if [1558] the English king had given

~~The parke and deere of Frisingfield to me. 100~~

Erms. I pray thee, my Lord of Sussex, why art thou in a broune study?

War. To see the nature of women; that be they never so neare

~~God, yet they love to die in a mans armes.~~

Lacie. What have you fit for breakefast? We have hied

~~And posted all this night to Frisingfield.[1559] 106~~

Mar. Butter and cheese, and humbl[e]s [1560] of a deere,

~~Such as poore keepers have within their lodge.[1559]~~

Lacie. And not a bottle of wine?

Margret. Weele find one for my lord. 110

Lacie. Come, Sussex, ... lets [1561] in: we shall have more,

~~For she speaks least, to hold her promise sure.[1559]~~

~~[Exeunt.]~~

[Scene Fifteenth. Frier Bacons cell.]

Enter a Devill [1562] to seeke Miles.

Devill. How restles are the ghosts of hellish spirites,

~~When everie charmer with his magick spels~~

~~Cals us from nine-fold trenched Phlegethon,[1563]~~

~~To scud and over-scoure the earth in post~~

~~Upon the speedie wings of swiftest winds! 5~~

~~Now Bacon hath raisd me from the darkest deepe,~~

~~To search about the world for Miles his man,~~

~~For Miles, and to torment his lasie bones~~

~~For careles watching [1564] of his Brazen-head.~~

~~See where he comes: Oh, he is mine. 10~~

~~Enter Miles with a gowne and a corner cap.~~

Miles. A scholler, quoth you! marry, sir, I would I had bene made a botlemaker when I was made a scholler; for I can get neither to be a deacon, reader,[1565] nor schoolemaister, no, not the clarke of a parish. Some call me dunce; another saith, my head is as full of Latine as an egs full of oatemeale: thus I am tormented, that the devil and Frier Bacon haunts me.—Good Lord, heers one of my maisters devils! Ile goe speake to him.—What, Maister Plutus, how chere you?

Devill. Doost thou know me? 19

Miles. Know you, sir! why, are not you one of my maisters devils, that were wont to come to my maister, Doctor Bacon, at Brazennose?

Devil. Yes, marry, am I.

Miles. Good Lord, M[aister] Plutus, I have seene you a thousand times at my maisters, and yet I had never the manners to make you drinke. But, sir, I am glad to see how conformable you are to the statute.[1566]—I warrant you, hees as yeomanly a man as you shall see: marke you, maisters, heers a plaine honest man, without welt or garde.[1566]—But I pray you, sir, do you come lately from hel?

Devil. I, marry: how then? 30

Miles. Faith, tis a place I have desired long to see: have you not good tipling-houses there? may not a man have a lustie fier there, a pot of good ale, a paire of cardes, a swinging peece of chalke,[1567] and a browne toast that will clap a white wastcoat [1568] on a cup of good drinke? 35

Devil. All this you may have there.

Miles. You are for me, freinde, and I am for you. But I pray you, may I not have an office there?

Devil. Yes, a thousand: what wouldst thou be? 39

Miles. By my troth, sir, in a place where I may profit my selfe. I know hel is a hot place, and men are mervailous drie, and much drinke is spent there; I would be a tapster.

Devil. Thou shalt.

Miles. Theres nothing lets me from going with you, but that tis a long journey, and I have never a horse. 45

Devil. Thou shalt ride on my backe.[1569]

Miles. Now surely her[e]s a courteous devil, that, for to pleasure [1570] his friend, will not stick to make a jade of him self.—But I pray you, goodman friend, let me move a question to you.

Dev. Whats that? 50

Miles. I pray you, whether is your pace a trot or an amble?

Dev. An amble.

Miles. Tis well; but take heed it be not a trot; but tis no matter, Ile prevent it.

~~[Stoops.]~~

Dev. What doest? 55

Miles. Mary, friend, I put on my spurs; for if I find your pace either a trot or els uneasie, Ile put you to a false gallop; Ile make you feele the benefit of my spurs.

Dev. Get up upon my backe.

Miles. O Lord, here's even a goodly marvel, when a man rides to hell on the devil's back!

Exeunt: [the Devil] roaring.

[Scene Sixteenth. At Court.]

Enter the Emperour with a pointlesse sword; next the King of Castile carrying a sword with a point; Lacy carrying the globe; Edward; Warraine carrying a rod of gold with a dove on it;[1571] Ermsby with a crowne and sceptre; the Queene; [Princess Elinor] with the faire Maide of Fresingfield on her left hand; Henry; Bacon; with other Lords attending.

Edward. Great potentates, earth's miracles for state,

~~Think that Prince Edward humbles at your feet,~~

~~And, for these favours, on his martial sword~~

~~He vows perpetuall homage to yourselves,~~

~~Yeelding these honours unto Ellinour. 5~~

Henrie. Gramercies, lordings; old Plantagenet,

~~That rules and swayes the Albion diademe,~~

~~With teares discovers these conceived joyes,~~

~~And vows requitall if his men at armes,~~

~~The wealth of England, or due honours done 10~~

~~To Ellinor, may quite his favourites.[1572]~~

~~But all this while what say you to the dames~~

~~That shine like to the christall lampes of heaven?~~

Emperour. If but a third were added to these two,

~~They did surpasse those gorgeous images 15~~

~~That gloried Ida with rich beauties wealth.~~

Mar. Tis I, my lords, who humbly on my knee

~~Must yeeld her horisons to mighty Jove~~

~~For lifting up his handmaide to this state;~~

~~Brought from her homely cottage to the court, 20~~

~~And grasde with kings, princes, and emperours,~~

~~To whom (next to the noble Lincolne earle)~~

~~I vow obedience, and such humble love~~

~~As may a handmaid to such mighty men.~~

P. Elin. Thou martiall man that wears the Almaine crown, 25

~~And you the western potentates of might,~~

~~The Albian princesse, English Edwards wife,~~

~~Proud that the lovely star of Fresingfield,~~

~~Fair Margret, Countess to the Lincoln earle,~~

~~Attends on Ellinour,—gramercies, lord, for her,— 30~~

~~Tis I give thankes for Margret, to you all,~~

~~And rest for her due bounden to your selves.~~

Henrie. Seeing the marriage is solemnized,[1573]

~~Lets march in triumph to the royall feast.—~~

~~But why stands Frier Bacon here so mute? 35~~

Bacon. Repentant for the follies of my youth,

~~That magicks secret mysteries misled,~~

~~And joyfull that this royall marriage~~

~~Portends such blisse unto this matchless realme.~~

Hen. Why, Bacon, what strange event shall happen to this land?

~~Or what shall grow from Edward and his queene? 41~~

Bacon. I find by deep praescience [1574] of mine art,

~~Which once I tempred in my secret cell,~~

~~That here where Brute did build his Troynovant,~~

~~From forth the royall garden of a king 45~~

~~Shall flourish out so rich and fair a bud,~~

~~Whose brightnesse shall deface proud Phœbus' flowre,~~

~~And over-shadow Albion with her leaves.~~

~~Till then Mars shall be master of the field,~~

~~But then the stormy threats of war shall cease: 50~~

~~The horse shall stamp as carelesse of the pike,~~

~~Drums shall be turn'd to timbrels of delight;~~

~~With wealthy favours plenty shall enrich~~

~~The strond that gladded wandring Brute to see,~~

~~And peace from heaven shall harbour in these leaves 55~~

~~That gorgeous beautifies this matchlesse flower:~~

~~Apollos helletropian [1575] then shall stoope,~~

~~And Venus hyacinth shall vaile [1576] her top;~~

~~Juno shall shut her gilliflowers up,~~

~~And Pallas bay shall bash her brightest greene; 60~~

~~Ceres carnation, in consort with those,~~

~~Shall stoope and wonder at Dianas rose.~~

Henrie. This prophecie is mysticall.—

~~But, glorious commanders [1577] of Europas love,~~

~~That make faire England like that wealthy ile 65~~

~~Circled with Gihen and swift [1578] Euphrates,~~

~~In royallizing Henries Albion~~

~~With presence of your princely mightinesse,—~~

~~Lets [1579] march: the tables all are spred,~~

~~And viandes, such as Englands wealth affords, 70~~

~~Are ready set to furnish out the bords.~~

~~You shall have welcome, mighty potentates:~~

~~It rests to furnish up this royall feast,~~

~~Only your hearts be frolicke; for the time~~

~~Craves that we taste of naught but jouissance. 75~~

~~Thus glories England over all the west.~~

~~[Exeunt omnes.]~~

~~Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utiie dulci.~~