THE HONOVRABLE Hiſtorie of Frier Bacon.
Enter, Edward the firſt malcontented with Lacy earle of Lincolne, Iohn Warren earle of Suſſex, and Ermsbie gentleman: Raph Simnell the kings foole.
Lacie.
WHY lookes my lord like to a troubled skie,
When heauens bright ſhine, is ſhadowed with a fogge:
A late we ran the deere and through the Lawndes
Stript with our nagges the loftie frolicke bucks,
That ſcudded fore the teiſers like the wind,
Nere was the Deere of merry Freſingfield,
So luſtily puld down by iolly mates,
Nor ſharde the Farmers ſuch fat veniſon,
So franckly dealt this hundred yeares before:
Nor haue I ſeene my lord more frolicke in the chace,
And now changde to a melancholie dumpe.
Warren.
After the Prince got to the keepers lodge
And had been iocand in the houſe a while:
Toſsing of ale and milke in countrie cannes,
Whether it was the countries ſweete content:
Or els the bonny damſell fild vs drinke
That ſeemd ſo ſtately in her ſtammell 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,
Shall he thus all amort liue malecontent.
Raphe.
Heereſt thou Ned, nay looke if hee will ſpeake to me.
Edward.
What ſayſt thou to me foole?
Raphe.
I pree thee tell me Ned, art thou in loue with the keepers daughter?
E
•
w
•
rd.
How if I be, what then?
Raphe.
Why then ſirha Ile teach thee how to deceiue loue.
Edward.
How Raphe.
Raphe.
Marrie ſirha Ned, thou ſhalt put on my cap, and my coat, and my dagger, and I will put on thy clothes, and thy ſword, and ſo thou ſhalt be my foole.
Edward.
And what of this?
Raphe.
Why ſo thou ſhalt beguile Loue, for Loue is ſuch a proud ſcab, that he will neuer meddle with fooles nor children, Is not Raphes counſell good Ned.
Edward.
Tell me Ned Lacie, didſt thou marke the mayd,
How liuely in her country weedes ſhe lookt:
A bonier wench all Suffolke cannot yeeld,
All Suffolke, nay all England holds none ſuch.
Rap
•
e.
Sirha, Will Ermsby, Ned is deceiued.
Ermsbi
•
.
Why Raphe?
Raphe.
He ſaies all England hath no ſuch, and I ſay, and Ile ſtand to it, there is one better in Warwickſhire.
VVarren.
How prooueſt thou that Raphe?
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.
Erm
•
by.
A good reaſon Raphe.
Edward.
I tell the Lacie, that herſparkling eyes,
Doe lighten forth ſweet Loues alluring fire:
And in her treſſes ſhe doth fold the lookes
Of ſuch as gaze vpon her golden haire,
Her b
•
ſhfull white mixt with the mornings red,
Luna doth boaſt vpon her louely cheekes,
Her front is beauties table where ſhe paints,
The glo
••
es of her gorgious excellence:
Her teeth are ſhelues of pretious Margarites,
Richly encloſed with rudd
•
e curroll cleues.
Tuſh Lacie, ſhe is beauties ouermatch,
If thou ſuruaiſt her curious imagerie.
Lacie.
I grant my lord the damſell is as faire,
As ſimple Suffolks homely towns can yeeld:
But in the court be quainter dames than ſhe,
Whoſe faces are enricht with honours taint,
Whoſe bewties ſtand vpon the ſtage of fame,
And vaunt their trophies in the courts of loue.
Ed
•
.
Ah Ned, but hadſt thou watcht her as my ſelf,
And ſeene the ſecret bewties of the maid,
Their courtly coineſſe were but foolery.
Erm
•
bie.
Why how watcht you her my lord?
Ed
•
ard.
When as ſhe ſwept like Venus through the houſe,
And in her ſhape faſt foulded vp my thoughtes:
Into the Milkhouſe went I with the maid,
And there amongſt the cream-boles ſhe did ſhine,
As Pallace, mongſt her Princely huſwiferie:
She turnd her ſmocke ouer her Lilly armes,
And diued them into milke to run her cheeſe:
But whiter than the milke her chriſtall skin,
Checked with lines of Azur made her bluſh,
That art or nature durſt bring for compare,
Ermsbie 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,
Thou wouldeſt with T
•
rquine hazard Roome and all
To win the louely mayd of Freſingfield.
Raphe.
Sirha N
•
d, wouldſt faine haue her?
Edward.
I Raphe.
Raphe.
Why Ned I haue laid the plot in my head thou ſhalt haue her alreadie.
Edward.
Ile giue thee a new coat and learne me that.
Ra
•
he.
Why ſirra Ned weel ride to Oxford to Frier
•
acon, oh he is a braue ſcholler ſirra, they ſay he is a braue N
•
gromancer, that he can m
•
ke women of deuils, and hee can iuggle cats into Coſtermongers.
Edward.
And how then Raphe?
Raphe.
Marry ſirha thou ſhalt go to him, and becauſe 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 ſinocke.
Edward.
But how ſhall I haue 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 of people, for feare of the cut-purſe on a ſodaine ſheele ſwap thee into her plackerd, then ſirha being there you may plead for your ſelfe.
Ermsbie.
Excellent pollicie.
Edward.
But how if I be a wrought ſmo
•
ke.
Raphe.
Then ſheele put thee into her cheſt and lay th
••
into Lauender, and vpon ſome good day ſheele put thee on, and at night when you go to bed, then being turnd from a ſmocke to a man, you may make vp the match.
L
•
cie.
Wonderfully wiſely counſelled Raphe.
Edward.
Raphe ſhall haue a new coate.
Raph.
God thanke you when I haue 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 vpon her honeſt pointes,
That marriage or no market with the mayd:
Ermsbie, it muſt be nigromaticke ſpels,
And charmes of art that muſt inchaine her loue,
Or elſe ſhall Edward neuer win the girle,
Therefore my wags weele horſe vs in the morne;
And poſt to Oxford to this iolly 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 vnknowne, not taken for the Prince,
They onely deeme vs frolicke Courtiers,
That reuell thus among our lieges game:
Therefore I haue d
•
uiſed a pollicie,
L
•
cie, thou knowſt next friday is S. Iames,
And then the country flockes to Harlſton faire,
Then will the keepers daughter frolicke there,
And ouer-ſhine the troupe of all the maids,
That come to ſee, and to be ſeene that day.
Haunt thee diſguiſd among the countrie ſwaines,
Fain thart a farmers ſonne, not far from thence,
Eſpie her loues, and who ſhe liketh beſt:
Coat 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,
Commends him, and ſends fairings to herſelfe,
Buy ſome thing worthie of her parentage,
Not worth her beautie for Lacie then the faire,
Affoord
•
no Iewell fitting for the mayd:
And when thou talkeſt of me, note if ſhe bluſh,
Oh then ſh
•
loues, but if her cheekes waxe pale,
Diſdaine it is. L
•
cie ſend how ſhe fares,
And ſpare no time nor coſt to win her loues.
Lacie.
I will my lord ſo execute this charge,
As if that Lacie were in loue with her.
Edward.
Send letters ſpeedily to Oxford of the newes.
Rap
•
e.
And ſirha Lacie, buy me a thouſand thouſand million of fine bels.
Lacie.
What wilt thou do
•
with them Raphe?
•
aph
•
.
Mary euery 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 hi
•
father Harry, that his ſonne and my maiſter Ned is become Loues morris dance.
Edward.
Well Lacie,
•
ooke with care vnto thy charge,
And I will haſt to Oxford to the Frier,
That he by art, and thou by ſecret gifts,
Maiſt make me lord of merrie Freſingfield.
Lacie.
God ſend your honour your harts deſire.
Exeunt.
Enter frier Bacon, with Miles his poore ſcholer with bookes vnd
•
r his arme, with them Burden, Maſon, Clement, three doctors.
Bacon.
Miles where are you?
Miles.
Hi
•
ſum dos
•
iſsime & reuerendiſsime doctor.
Bacon.
Attuli
••
in
•
s libr
•
s m
••
s de Necromantia.
Miles.
Ecce quam bo
•
um & quam i
•
cundum, habitares libr
•
s in
•
num.
Bacon.
Now maiſters of our Academicke ſtate,
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 F
•
ier newly ſtalde in
〈◊〉
,
Say whats your mind, that I may make replie.
Burden.
Bacon we hear, that long we haue
••
ſpect,
That thou art read in Magicks myſ
•
erie,
In Piromancie to diuine by flames,
To tell by Hadromaticke, ebbes and tides,
By Aeromancie, to diſcouer doubts,
To plaine out queſtions, as Apollo did.
Bacon.
Well maiſter B
••
den, what of all this?
Miles.
Marie
•
ir he doth but fulfill by rehearſing of theſ
•
names the Fable of the Fox and the g
••
pes, that which is abou
•
vs, pertains nothing to vs.
Burden.
I tell thee Bacon, Oxford makes report,
Nay England, and the court of Henrie ſaies,
Thart making of a brazen head by art,
Which ſhall vnfold ſtrang
•
doubts and Aphoriſme
•
,
And read a lecture in Philoſophie,
And by the helpe of Diuels 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?
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
•
it his turne to make him haue a coppernoſe.
Clement.
Bacon we come not greeuing at thy skill,
But ioieng that our Academi
•
yeelds
A man ſuppoſde the woonder ofthe 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 vp in Rome,
Eternize Frier Bacon for his art.
Maſon.
Then gentle Frier, tell vs thy intent.
Bacon.
Seeing you come as friends vnto the frier
Reſolue you doctors, Bacon can by bookes,
Make ſtorming Boreas thunder from his caue,
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.
What art can worke, the frolicke frier knowes,
And therefore will I turne my Magicke bookes,
And ſtraine out Nigromancie to the deepe,
I haue contrivd and framde a head of braſ
•
e,
(I made Belcephon hammer
•
ut the ſtuffe)
And that by art ſhall read Philoſophie,
And I will ſtrengthen England by my skill,
That if ten Caeſars livd and raig
•
d 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,
The brazen walles framde by Semiramis,
Carued out like to the portall of the ſunne,
Shall not be ſuch as rings the Engliſh ſt
•
ond:
From Douer to the market place of Ri
•
.
Burden.
Is this poſsible?
Miles.
Ile bring ye to or three witneſſes.
Burden.
What be thoſe?
Miles.
Marry
•
ir three or foure as honeſt diuels, and good companions as any be in hell.
Maſon.
No doubt but magicke may doe much in this,
For he that reades but Mathematicke rules,
Shall finde concluſions that auaile to worke,
Wonder
•
that paſſe the common ſenſe of men.
Burden.
But Bacon roues a bow beyond his reach,
And tels of more than magicke can performe:
Thinking to get a fame by fooleries,
Haue I not paſt as farre inſtate of ſchooles:
And red of many ſecrets, yet to thinke,
That heads o
•
Braſſe can vtter any voice,
Or more, to tell of de
•
pe philoſophie,
This is a fable Aeſ
••
had forgot.
Bacon.
Burden
•
thou wrongſt me in detracting thus,
Bacon loues not to ſtuffe himſelfe with lies:
But tell me fore theſe Doctors if thou dare,
Of certaine queſtions I ſhall moue to thee.
Burden.
I will aske what thou can.
Miles.
Marrie ſi
•
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 vpon the Thembs?
Burden.
I was, what then?
Bacon.
What booke ſtudied you there on all night?
Burden.
I, none at all I red not there a li
•
e.
Bacon.
Then doctors, Frier Bacons art knowes nought.
Clement.
What ſay you to this maiſter Burden doth hee not touch you?
Burden.
I paſſe not of his friuolous ſpeeches.
Miles.
Nay maiſter 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 leaue no more learning in you than is in Ba
•
aams Aſſe.
Bacon.
Maiſters, for that learned Burdens skill is deepe,
And ſore he doubts of Bacons Cabaliſme:
Ile ſhew you why he haunts to Henly oft,
Not doctors for to taſt the fragrant aire:
But there to ſpend the night in Alcumie,
To multiplie with ſecret ſpels of art.
Thus priuat ſteales he learning from vs all,
To prooue my ſayings true, Ile ſhew you ſtraight,
The booke he ke
•
pes at Henly for himſelfe.
Miles.
Nay now my maiſter goes to coniuration, take heede.
Bacon.
Maiſters ſtand ſtill, feare not, Ile ſhew
•
you but his booke.
•
eere he coniures.
Pe
•
omnes deos infernales Belcephon.
Enter a woman with a ſhoulder of mutton on a ſpit, and a Deuill.
Miles.
Oh maiſter ceaſe your coniuration, or you ſpoile all, for heeres a ſhee d
•
uell c
•
me with a ſhoulder of mutton o
•
•
ſpit, you haue mard the diuels 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.
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 ſupper for my gueſſe:
A motion mooued 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 alo
•
t vnto the cloudes:
As in a trance I thought nor feared nought,
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.
H
•
ſteſse.
Oh yes good ſir, he is my daily gueſt,
What maiſter Burden, twas but yeſternight,
That you and I at Henly plaid at cardes.
Burden.
I knowe not what we did, a poxe of all coniuring Friers.
Clement.
Now iolly Frier tell vs, is this the booke that Burden is ſo carefull to looke on?
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.
Miles.
Ile warrant you maiſter, if maiſter Burden could coniure as well as you, hee would haue his booke euerie 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
Driues him to baſh and makes his hoſteſſe bluſh.
Bacon.
Well miſtres for I wil not haue you miſt,
You ſhall to Henly to cheere vp your gueſts
Fore ſupper ginne, Burden bid her adew,
Say farewell to your hoſteſſe ſore ſhe goes,
Sirha away, and ſet her ſafe at home.
Hoſteſſe.
Maiſter Burden, when ſhall we ſee you at Henly.
Exeunt Hosteſſe and the Deuill.
Burden.
The deuill take thee and Henly too.
Miles.
Maiſter ſhall I make a good motion.
Bacon.
Whats that?
Miles.
Marry ſir nowe that my hoſteſſe is gone to prouide
ſupper, coniure vp another ſpirite, and ſend doctor Burden
••
ying after.
Bacon.
Thus rulers of our Accademicke ſtate,
You haue ſeene the Frier frame his art by proo
••
:
And as the colledge called Braz
•
nno
•••
Is vnder him and he the maiſter there:
So ſurely ſhall this head of braſſe be framd
•
,
And yeeld forth ſtrange and vncoth Aph
•
riſmes:
And Hell and Heccate ſhall fa
•
le the F
•••
r,
But I will circle England round with braſſe.
Miles.
So be it, & n
•
ne& ſemp
•
r, Amen.
Exeunt
•
mnes.
Enter Margaret the
•
aire mayd of Freſingfield, with Thomas and
•
one, and other clownes: Latie 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 haue 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 for dearth of hay,
When we haue turnd our butter to the ſalt,
And ſet our cheeſe ſafely vpon the rackes.
Then let our fathers priſe it as they pleaſe,
We countrie ſluts of merry Freſingfield,
Come to buy needleſſe noughts to make vs fine,
And looke that yong-men ſhould be francke this day,
And court vs with ſuch fairings as they can.
Ph
••
us is blythe and frolicke lookes from heauen,
As when he courted louely Semele:
Swearing the pedlers ſhall haue emptie packs,
If that faire wether may make chapmen buy.
Lacie.
But louely Peggie Semele is dead,
And therefore Ph
•
bus from his pallace pries,
And ſeeing ſuch a ſweet and ſeemly ſaint,
Shewes all his glories for to court your ſelfe.
Margret.
This is a fairing gentle ſir indeed,
To ſooth me vp with ſuc
•
ſmooth flatterie,
But learne of me your ſco
••
es to broad before:
Well Ione our bewties muſt abide their ieſtes,
We ſerue the turne iniolly Freſingfield.
Ione.
Margret
•
a farmers daughter for a farmers ſonn
•
,
I warrant you the meaneſt of vs both,
Shall haue a mate to leade vs from the Church:
But Thomas whats the newes? what in a dumpe.
Giue me your hand, we are neere a pedlers ſhop,
Out with your purſe we muſt haue fairings now.
Th
•
mas.
Faith Ione and ſhall, Ile beſtow a fairing on you, and then we will to the Tau
•
rn, and ſnap off a pint of wine or two.
All this while Lacie whi
•
pers Margret in the
•
are.
Margret.
Whence are you ſir, of Suffolke, for your
〈◊〉
are finer than the common ſort of men?
Laci
•
.
Faith louely girle, I am of Beckles by,
Your neighbour not aboue ſix miles from hence,
A farmers ſonne that neuer was ſo quain
•
,
But that he could do courteſie to ſuch dames:
But truſt me Margret I am ſent in charge,
From him that reueld in your fathers houſe,
And fild his Lodge with cheere and veniſon,
Tyred in greene, he ſent you this rich purſe:
His token, that he helpt you run your cheeſe,
And in the milkhouſe chatted with your ſelfe.
M
•
rgret.
To me, you forget your ſelfe.
Laci
•
.
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 loue:
For we haue little leiſure to debate of that.
Ione.
What Margret bluſh not, mayds muſt haue their loues.
Thomas.
Nay by the maſſe ſhe lookes pale as if ſhe were angrie.
Richard.
Sirha are you of Beckls? I pray how dooth goodman Cob, my father bought a horſe of him, Ile tell you Marget, a were good to be a gentlemans iade, for of all things the foule hilding could not abide a doongcart.
Margret.
How different is this farmer from the reſt,
That earſt as yet hath pleaſd my wandring ſight,
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 Aenon in the vale by Troy.
Great lords haue come and pleaded for my loue,
Who but the keepers laſ
•
e of Freſingfield,
And yet me thinks this Farmers iolly ſonne,
Paſſeth the prowdeſt that hath pleaſd mine eye.
But Peg diſcloſe not that thou art in loue,
And ſhew as yet no ſigne of loue to him,
Although thou well wouldſt wiſh him for thy loue
Keepe that to thee till time doth ſerue thy turne,
To ſhew the greefe wherein thy heart doth burne.
Come Ione and Thomas, ſhall we to the faire,
You Beckls man will not forſake vs now,
Laci
•
.
Not whilſt I may haue ſuch quaint girls as you,
Margret.
Well if you chaunce to come by Freſingfield,
Make but a ſtep into the keepers lodge,
And ſuch poore fare as Woodmen can affoord,
Butter and cheeſe, creame, and fat veniſon,
You ſhall haue ſtore, and welcome therewithall.
Lacie.
Gramarcies Peggie, looke for me
•
are long.
Enter Henry the third, the emperour, the king of Caſtile, Elin
•
r his daughter, Iaques Van
••
rma
••
a G
•
rmaine.
Henrie.
Great men of Europe, monarks of the Weſt,
Ringd with the wals of old Oc
••
nus,
Whoſe lo
•
tie ſurges like the batte
•
ments,
That compaſt high built Babell in with towers,
Welcome my lords, welcome braue weſteme kings,
To Englands ſhore, whoſe promontorie cleeues,
Shewes Albion is another little world,
Welcome ſayes Engliſh Henrie to you all,
Chie
•
ly vnto the louely Eleanour,
Who darde
•
or Edwards ſake cut through the ſeas,
And venture as Agenors d
•
mſell through the deepe,
To get the loue of Henries wanton ſonne.
Caſtile.
Englands rich Monarch braue Plantagenet,
The Pyren mounts ſwelling aboue the clouds,
That ward the welthie Caſtile in with walles,
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.
Elinor.
After that Engliſh Henrie by his lords,
Had ſent prince Edwards louely counterfeit,
A preſent to the Caſtile Elinor,
The comly pourtra
•
t of ſo braue a man,
The vertuous fame diſcourſed of his deeds,
Edwards couragious reſolution,
Done at the holy land fore Damas 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.
Em
•
erour.
Where is the Prince, my lord?
Henrie.
He poſted down, not long ſince from the court,
To Suffolke ſide, to merrie Fremingham,
To ſport himſelfe amongſt my fallow deere,
From thence by packets ſent to Hampton houſe,
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.
Empe.
Nay rather Henrie let vs as we be,
Ride for to viſite Oxford with our traine,
Faine would I ſee your Vniuerſities,
And what learned men your Academie yields,
From Haſpurg haue I brought a learned clarke,
To hold diſpute with Engliſh Orators.
This doctor ſurnamde Iaques Vandermaſt,
A Germaine borne, paſt into Padua,
To Florence, and to faire Bolonia,
To Paris, Rheims, and ſtately Orleans,
And talking there with men of art, put downe
The chiefeſt of them all in Aphoriſmes,
In Magicke, and the Mathematicke rules,
Now let vs Henrie trie him in your ſchooles.
Henrie.
He ſhal my lord, this motion likes me wel,
Weele progreſſe ſtraight to Oxford with our trains,
And ſee what men our Academi
•
bringes.
And woonder Vandermaſt welcome to me
In Oxford ſhalt thou find a iollie frier,
Cald Frier Ba
•
on, Englands only flower
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
•
made of Baies,
But with a coronet of choiceſt gold,
Whilſt then we fit to Oxford with our troupes,
Lets in and banquet in our Engliſh court.
Exit.
Enter Raphe Si
•••
ll in Edwardes apparrell, Edward, Warr
••
, Er
•
sby diſgu
•
ſed.
Raphe.
Where be theſe vacabond knaues that they attend no better on their maiſte
•
?
Edward.
If it pleaſe your honour we are all ready at an inch.
Raphe.
Sirha Ned, Ile haue no more poſt horſe to ride on,
Ile haue another fetch.
Ermsbie.
I pray you how is that my Lord?
Raphe.
Marrie ſir, Ile ſend to the Ile of Eely for foure or fiue dozen of Geeſe, and Ile haue them tide ſix and ſix together with whipcord, Now vpon their backes will I haue a faire field bed, with a Canapi
•
, and ſo when it is my pleaſure Ile flee into what place I pleaſe; this will be eaſie.
Warren.
Your honour hath ſaid well, but ſhall we to Braſennoſe Colledge before we pull off our bootes.
Ermsbie.
Warren well motioned, wee will to the Frier
Before we reuell it within the towne.
Raphe ſee you keepe your countenance like a Prince.
Raphe.
Wherefore haue I ſuch a companie of cutting knaues to wait vpon me, but to
•
eep and defend my countenance againſt all mine enemies: haue you not good ſwords and bucklers.
Enter Bacon and Miles.
Ermsbie.
Stay who comes heere.
Warren.
Some ſcholler, and weele aske him where Frier Bacon is.
Bacon.
Why thou arrant dunce ſhal I neuer make thee good ſcholler, doth not all the towne trie out, and ſay, Frier Bacons ſubſiſer is the greateſt blockhead in all Oxford, why thou canſt not ſpeake one word of true Latine.
Miles.
No ſir, yes what is this els;
•
g
•
•
um tuus hom
•
, 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 Eg
•
.
Miles.
Eg
•
, that is I, marrie nomen ſ
•
bstant
•••
.
Bacon.
How prooue you that?
Miles.
Why ſir let him prooue himſelfe and a will, I can b
•
hard felt and vnderſtood.
Bacon.
Oh groſſe dunce.
Here beate him.
Edw.
Come let vs breake off this diſpute between theſe two. Sirha, where is Brazennoſe Colledge.
Miles.
Not far from Copper-ſmithes hall.
Edward.
What doeſt thou mo
•
ke me.
Miles.
Not I ſir, but what would you at Brazennoſe?
Ermsbi
•
.
M
•
rrie we would ſpeake with frier Bacon.
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.
Miles.
Then heeres good game for the hawke, for heers the maiſter foole, and a couie of Cockscombs, one wiſe man I thinke would ſpring you all.
Edward.
Gogs wounds Warren kill him.
VVarren.
Why Ned I thinke the deu
•
ll be in my ſheath, I cannot get out my dagger.
Ermsbie.
Nor I mine, Swones Ned I thinke 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.
Edward.
I ſtriue in vaine, but if my ſword be ſhut,
And coniured faſt by magicke in my ſheath,
Villaine heere is my fiſt.
Strike him a box on the eare.
Miles.
Oh I beſeech you coniure 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.
Bacon.
What meanes the Engliſh prince to wrong my man,
Edward.
To whom ſpeakeſt thou.
••
con.
To thee.
Edward.
Who art thou.
B
•
con.
Could you not iudge when all your ſwords grew faſt
•
That frier B
•
con was not farre from hence:
Edward king Henries ſonne and Prince of Wales,
Thy
•
oole diſgui
•
d cannot conceale thy ſel
•
e,
I know both Erm
•
bie and the Suſlex E
•
rle,
Els Frier Bacon had but little skill.
Thou comeſt in poſt from merrie Freſingfield
•
Faſt fancied to the keepers bonny laſſe,
To craue ſome ſuccour of the iolly Frier,
And Lacie Eare of Lincolne haſt thou left,
To treat faire Margret to allow thy loues:
But friends are men, and loue can baffle lords.
The Earle both woes and courtes her for himſelfe.
VVarren.
Ned this is ſtrange, the frier knoweth al.
Ermsbie.
Appollo could not vtter more than this.
Edward.
I ſtand amazed to heare this iolly Frier,
Tell euen 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 haue
The loue of louely Margret to my ſelfe;
And as I am true Prince of Wales, Ile giue
Liuing and lands to ſtrength thy colledge ſtate.
VVarren.
Good Frier helpe the Prince in this.
Raphe.
Why ſeruant Ned, will not the frier doe it. Were not my ſword glued to my ſcabberd by coniuration, I would cut off his head and make him do it by force.
Miles.
In faith my lord, your manhood and your ſword all alike, they are ſo faſt coniured that we ſhall neuer ſee them.
Ermsbie.
Wat doctor in a dumpe, tuſh helpe the prince,
And thou ſhalt ſee how liberall he will prooue,
Bacon.
Craue 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 bet
•
othed ech to other faſt:
But come with me, w
•
ele to my ſtudie ſtraight,
And in a glaſſe pro
•
pectiue I will ſhew
Whats done this day in m
•
rry Freſingfield.
Edward.
Gramercies Bacon, I will quite thy paine.
Bacon.
But ſend your traine my lord into the towne,
My ſcholler ſhall go bring them to their Inne:
Meane while weele ſee the knauerie of the earle.
Ed
•
a
•
d.
Warren leaue me and Ermsbie, take the foole,
Let him be maiſter and go reuell it,
Till I and Frier Bacon ta
•
ke a while.
VVarr
•
n.
We will my lord.
Raphe.
Faith Ned and Ile lord it out till thou comeſt, Ile be Prince of Wales ouer all the blacke pots in Oxford.
Exeunt.
Bacon and Edward goes into the ſtudy.
Bacon.
Now frolick
•
d
•
ard, welcome to my Cell,
Heere tempers Frier Bacon many toies:
And holds this place his conſiſtorie court,
Wherin the diuels pleads homage to his words,
Within this glaſle pr
••
pectiue thou ſhalt ſee
This day whats done in merry Freſingfield,
Twixt louely Peggie and the Lincolne earle.
Edward.
Frier thou gladſt me, nowſhall Edward trie,
How Lacie meaneth to his ſoueraigne lord.
Bacon.
Stand there and looke directly in the glaſſe,
Enter Margret and Frier Bungay
•
Bacon.
What ſees my lord.
Edward.
I ſee the keepers louely laſſe appeare,
As bright-ſunne as the parramour of Mars,
Onely attended by a iolly frier.
Bacon.
Sit ſtill and keepe the chriſtall in your eye,
Margret.
But tell me frier Bungay is it true,
That this faire courtious countrie ſwaine,
Who ſaies his father is a farmer nie,
Can be lord Lacie earle of Lincolnſhire.
Bunga
•
.
Peggie tis true, tis Lacie for my life,
Or elſe mine art and cunning both doth faile:
Left by prince Edward to procure his loues,
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.
But did lord Lacie like poore Margret,
Or would he daine to wed a countrie laſſe,
Frier, I would his humble handmayd be,
And for great wealth, quite him with courteſie.
Bungay.
Why Margret doeſt thou loue him.
Margret.
His perſonage like the pride ofvaunting Troy,
Might well auouch to ſhadow Hellens cape:
His witis quicke and readie in conceit,
As Greece affoorded in her chiefeſt prime
Courteous, ah Frier full of pleaſing ſmiles,
Truſt me I loue too much to tell thee more,
Suffice to me he is Englands parramour.
Bungay.
Hath not ech eye that viewd thy pleaſing face,
Surnamed thee faire maid of Freſingfield.
Margret.
Yes Bungay, and would God the lo
•
ely Earle
Had that in eſſe, thatſo many ſought.
•
ungay.
Feare not, the Frier will not be behind,
To ſhew his cunning to entangle loue.
Edward.
I thinke the Frier courts the bonny wench,
Bacon, me thinkes he is a luſtie churle.
Bacon.
Now looke my lord.
•
nter Lacie.
Edward.
Gogs wounds Bacon heere comes Lacie.
Bacon.
Sit ſtill my lord and marke the commedie.
Bungay.
Heeres Lacie, Margret ſtep aſide awhile.
Lacie.
Daphne the damſell, that caught Phaebus faſt,
And lockt him in the brightneſſe of her lookes,
Was not ſo beautious in Appollos eyes,
As is f
••
re Margret to the Lincolne earle,
Recant thee Lacie thou art put in truſt,
Edward thy ſoueraignes ſonne hath choſen thee
A ſecret friend to court her for himſelfe:
And dareſt thou wrong thy Prince with trecherie.
Lacie, loue makes no acception of a friend,
Nor deemes it of a Prince, but as a man:
Honour bids thee controll him in his luſt,
His wooing is not for to wed the girle,
But to intrap her and beguile the laſſe:
Lacie thou loueſt, then brooke not ſuch abuſe,
But wed her, and abide thy Princes frowne:
For better die, then ſee her liue diſgracde.
Margret.
Come Frier I will ſhake him from his dumpes,
How cheere you ſir, a penie for your thought:
Your early vp, pray God it be the neere,
What come from Beckles in a morne ſo ſoone.
Lacie.
Thus watchfull are ſuch men as liue in loue,
Whoſe eyes brooke broken ſlumbers for their ſleepe,
I tell thee Peggie ſince laſt Harlſton faire,
My mind
•
hath felt a heape of paſsions.
Margret.
A truſtie man that court it for your friend,
Woo you ſtill for the courtier all in greene.
I maruell that he ſues not for himſelfe.
Lacie.
Peggie, I pleaded firſt to get your grace for him,
But when mine
•
i
•
s furuaid your beautious lookes
Loue like a wagge, ſtraight diued into my heart,
And there did ſhrine the Idea of your ſelfe:
Pittie me though I be a farmers ſonne,
And meaſure not my riches but my loue.
Margret.
You are ver
•
e haſtie for to garden well,
Seeds muſt haue time to ſprout before they ſpring,
Loue ought to creepe as doth the dials ſhade,
For timely ripe is rotten too too ſoone.
Bungay.
Deus hic, roome for a merry Frier,
What youth of Beckles, with the keepers laſſe,
Tis well, but tell me heere you any newes.
Margret.
No, Frier what newes.
Bungay.
Heere you not how the purſeuants do poſt,
With proclamations through ech country towne:
Lacie.
For what gentle frier tell the newes.
Bungay.
Dwelſt thou in Beckles & heerſt not of theſe news,
Lacie the Earle of Lincolne is late fled
From Windſor court diſguiſed like a ſwaine,
And lurkes about the countrie heere vnknowne.
Henrie ſuſpects him of ſome trecherie,
And therefore doth proclaime in euery way,
That who can take the Lincolne earle, ſhall haue
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,
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 loues.
Lacie.
Then am I double priſoner to thy ſelfe,
Peggie, I yeeld, but are theſe newes inieſt,
Margret.
In
••
ſt with you, but earneſt vnto 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.
Lacie.
Beleeue me laſſe, I am the Lincolne earle▪
I not denie, but tyred thus in rags
I liued diſguiſd to winne faire Peggies loue.
Margret.
What loue is there where wedding ends not loue?
Lacie.
I meant faire girle to make thee Lacies wife.
Margret.
I
〈◊〉
thinke that earles wil ſtoop ſo low,
Lacie.
Say, ſhal
•
I make thee counteſſe ere I ſleep.
Marg.
Handmaid vnto the earle ſo pleaſe himſelfe
A wife in name, but ſeruant in obedience.
Lacie.
The Lincolne counteſſe, for it ſhalbe ſo,
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 thinke the ſhadowes ſubſtances.
Bacon.
Twere a long poinard my lord, to reach betweene
Oxford and Freſingfield, but
•
it ſtill and ſee more.
Bungay.
Well lord of Lincolne, if your loues be knit,
And tha
•
your tongues and thoughts do both agree:
To auoid inſuing iarres, Ile hamper vp the match,
Ile take my portace forth, and wed you heere,
Then go to bed and ſeale vp your deſires.
Lacie.
Frier content, Peggie how like you this?
Margret.
What likes my lord is pleaſing vnto me.
Bungay.
Then hand-faſt hand, and I wil to my booke,
Bacon.
What ſees my lord now.
Edward.
Bacon, I ſee the louers hand in hand,
The Frier readie with his portace there,
To wed them both, then am I quite vndone,
Bacon helpe now, if ere thy magicke ſerude,
Helpe Bacon, ſtop the marriage now,
If diuels or nigromanſie may ſuffice,
And I will giue thee fortie thouſand crownes.
Bacon.
Feare not my lord, Ile ſtop the iolly Frier,
For mumbling vp his oriſons this day.
Lacie.
VVhy ſpeakſt not Bungay, Frier to thy booke.
Bungay is mute, crying Hud hud.
Margret.
How lookeſt thou frier, as a man diſttaught
•
To ſee if he will take this taske in hand.
Clement.
Stay what rumor is this, the towne is vp 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.
Burden.
Whats the matter fellow?
Conſtable.
Marie ſir, heres a companie of rufflers that drinking in the Tauerne haue made a great braule, and almoſt kilde the vintner.
Mil
•
s.
Salue doctor Burden, this lubberly lurden,
Ill ſhapte and ill faced, diſdaind and diſgraced,
What he tels vnto v
•
bis, mentitur de nobis.
Burden.
Who is the maiſter and chee
•
e of this crew?
Miles.
Ecce aſinum mundi, fugura rotundi,
Neat ſheat and fine, as briske as a cup of wine.
Burden.
What are you?
Raphe.
I am father doctor as a man would ſay, the Belwether of this copany, theſe are my lords, and I the prince of Wales.
Clement.
Are you Edward the kings ſonne?
Raphe.
Sirra Miles, bring hither the tapſter that drue the wine, and I warrant when they ſee how ſoundly I haue broke his head, theile ſay twas done by no leſſe man than a prince.
Maſon.
I cannot beleeue that this is the prince of Wales.
Warren.
And why ſo ſir?
Maſon.
For they ſay the prince is a braue & a wiſe gentleman.
VVar.
Why and thinkeſt thou doctor that he is not ſo?
Darſt thou detract and derogat from him,
Being ſo louely and ſo braue a youth.
Ermsbie.
Whoſe face ſhining with many a ſugred ſmile,
Bewraies that he is bred of princely race.
Miles.
And yet maiſter doctor, to ſpeake like a proctor,
And tell vnto you, what is veriment and true,
To ceaſe of this quarrell, looke but on his apparrell,
Then marke but my talis, he is great prince of Walis,
The cheeſe of our gregis, and fili
••
regis,
Then ware what is done, for he is Henries white ſonne.
Raphe.
Doctors whoſe doting nightcaps are not capable of my ingenious dignitie, know that I am Edward Plantagenet, whom if you diſpleaſe, will make a ſhippe that ſhall hold all your colleges, and ſo carrie away the Niniuerſitie with a fayre wind, to the Bankeſide in Southwarke, how ſayſt thou Ned Warraine, ſhall I not do it?
VVarren.
Yes my good lord, and if it pleaſe your lordſhip, I wil gather vp al your old pantophles, and with the corke, make you a Pinnis of fiue hundred tunne, that ſhall ſerue the turne maruellous well, my lord.
Ermsbie.
And I my lord will haue Pioners to vndermine the towne, that the very Gardens and orchards be carried away for your ſummer walkes.
Miles.
And I with ſcientia, and great diligentia,
Will coniure and charme, to keepe you from harme,
That vtrum horum mauis, your very great nauis,
Like Bartlets ſhip, from Oxford do skip,
With Colleges and ſchooles, full loaden with fooles,
Quid dices ad hoc, worſhipfull domine Dawcocke.
Clement.
Why harebraind courtiers, are you drunke or mad,
To taunt vs vp with ſuch ſcurilitie,
Deeme you vs men of baſe and light eſteeme,
To bring vs ſuch a fop for Henries ſonne,
Call out the beadls and conuay them hence,
Straight to Bocardo, let the roiſters lie
Cloſe clapt in bolts, vntill theirwits be tame.
E
•
msbie.
Why ſhall we to priſon my lord?
Raphe.
What ſaiſt Miles, ſhall I honour the priſon with my preſence?
Miles.
No no, out with your blades, and hamper theſe iades,
Haue a flurt and a craſh, now play reuell daſh,
And teach theſe Sacerdos, that the Bocardos,
Like pezzants and elues, are meet for themſelues.
M
•
ſ
•
n.
To the priſon with them conſtable.
Warren.
Well doctors ſeeing I haue 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 loued foole,
I, earle of Eſſex, and this Ermsbie
O
•
e of the priuie chamber to the king,
Who while the prince with Frier Bacon ſtaies,
Haue reueld it in Oxford as you ſee.
Maſon.
My lord pardon vs, we knew not what you wer
•
,
But courtiers may make greater skapes than theſe,
Wilt pleaſe your honour dine with me to day?
VVarren.
I will maiſter doctor, and ſatisfie the vintner for h
••
hurt, only I muſt deſire you to imagine him all this forenoon the prince of Wales.
Maſon.
I will ſir.
Raphe.
And vpon that I will lead the way, onely I will haue Miles go before me, becauſe I haue heard Henrie ſay, that wiſedome muſt go before Maieſtie.
Exeunt
•
mnes.
Enter prince Edward with his poinard in his hand, Lacie and Margret.
Edward.
Lacie thou canſt not ſhroud thy traitrous thoughts,
Nor couer as did Caſsius all his wiles,
For Edward hath an eye that lookes as farre,
As L
•
ncaeus from the ſhores of Grecia,
Did not I ſit in Oxford by the Frier,
And ſee the
•
court the mayd of Freſingfield,
Seahog thy flattering fancies with a kiſſe,
Did not prowd B
•
ngay draw his portaſſe foorth,
And ioyning hand in hand had married you,
If Frier B
•
con had not ſtroke him
〈◊〉
,
And mounted him vpon a ſpirits backe,
That we might chat at Oxford with the frier,
Traitor what anſwerſt, is not all this true?
Lacie.
Truth all my Lord and thus I make replie,
At Harlſtone faire there courting for your grace,
When as mine eye
•
uruaid her curious ſhape,
And drewe the beautious glory of her looks,
To diue into the center of my heart.
Loue taught me that your honour did but ieſt,
That princes were in fancie but as men,
How that the louely maid of Freſingfield,
Was fitter to be Lacies wedded wi
•
e,
Than concubine vnto the prince of Wales.
Edward.
Iniurious Lacie did I loue thee more
Than Alexander his Hepheſtion;
Did I vnfould the paſsion of my loue,
And locke them in the cloſſet of thy thoughts,
Wert thou to Edward ſecond to himſelfe,
Sole freind, and partner of his ſecreat loues,
And could a glaunce of fading bewtie breake,
Theinchained fetters of ſuch priuat freindes,
Baſe coward, falſe, and too effeminate,
To be coriuall with a prince in thoughts,
From Oxford haue I poſted ſince I dinde,
To quite a traitor fore that Edward ſleepe.
Marg.
Twas I my Lord, not Lacie ſtept awry,
For oft he ſued and courted for yourſelfe,
And ſtill woode for the courtier all in greene,
But I whome fancy made but ouer fond,
Pleaded my ſelfe with looks as if I lovd,
I fed myne eye with gazing on his face,
And ſtill bewicht lovd Lacie with my looks,
My hart with ſighes, myne eyes pleaded with tear
•
,
My face held pittie and content at once,
And mor
•
I cou
•
d not ſiph
•
r out by ſignes
But that I lovd Lord Lacie with my heart,
Then worthy Edward meaſure with thy minde,
If womens fa
•
ours will not force men fall,
If bewtie and if da
••
s of
〈◊〉
•
oue,
Is not of force to bury thoughts of friendes.
Edward.
I tell thee Peggie I will haue thy loues
•
Edward or none ſhall conquer Margret,
In Frigats bottomd with rich Sethin planks,
Topt with the loftie firs of Libanon,
Stemd and incaſt with burniſht luorie
And ouerlaid with plates of Perſian wealth,
Like Thetis ſhalt thou wanton on the waues
And draw the Dolphins to thy louely eyes,
To daunce lauoltas in the purple ſtreames,
Sirens with harpes and ſiluer pſalteries,
Shall waight with muſicke at thy frigots ſtem,
And entertaine faire Margret with her laies,
England and Englands wealth ſhall wait on thee,
Brittaine ſhall bend vnto her princes loue,
And doe due homage to thine excellence,
If thou wilt be but Edwards Margret.
Margret.
Pardon my lord if Ioues great roialtie,
Sent me ſuch preſents as to Danae,
If Phoebus tied in Latonas webs,
Come courting from the beautie of his lodge,
The dulcet tunes of frolicke Mercurie,
Not all the wealth heauens treaſurie affoords,
Should make me leaue lord Lacie or his loue.
Edw.
I haue learnd at Oxford then this point ofſchooles,
Abbata cauſa,
••
llitur effectus,
Lacie the cauſe that Margret cannot loue,
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 eatle.
Lacie.
Rather then liue, and miſſe faire Margrets loue,
Prince Edward ſtop not at the fatall doome,
But ſtabb it home, end both my loues and life.
Marg.
Braue Prince of Wales, honoured for royall deeds,
Twere ſinne to ſtaine fair Venus courts with blood,
Loues conqueſts ends my Lord in courteſie,
Spare Lacie gentle Edward, let me die,
For ſo both you and he doe ceaſe your loues.
Edward.
Lacie ſhall die as traitor to his Lord.
Lacie.
I haue deſerued it, Edward act it well.
Margret
What hopes the Prince to gaine by Lacies death?
Edward.
To end the loues twixt him and Margeret.
Marg.
Why, thinks king Henries ſonne that Margrets loue,
Hangs in the vncertaine ballance of proud time,
That death ſhall make a diſcord of our thonghts,
No, ſtab the earle, and fore the morning ſun
Shall vaunt him thrice, ouer the loftie eaſt,
Margret will meet her Lacie in the heauens.
Lacie.
If ought betides to louely Margret,
That wrongs or wrings her honour from content,
Europes rich wealth nor Englands monarchie,
Should not allure Lacie to ouerliue,
Then Edward ſhort my life and end her loues.
Margret.
Rid me, and keepe a friend worth many loues.
Lacie.
Nay Edward keep
•
a loue worth many friends.
Margret.
And if thy mind be ſuch as
•
ame hath blazde,
Then princely Edward let vs both abide
The fatall reſolution of thy rage,
Baniſh thou fancie, and imbrace reuenge,
And in one toomb
•
knit both our carkaſes,
Whoſe hearts were linked in one perfect loue,
Edward.
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,
Is it princely to diſſeuer louers leagues,
To part ſuch friends as glorie in their loues,
Leaue Ned, and make a vertue of this fault,
And further Peg and Lacie in their loues,
So in ſubduing fancies paſsion,
Conquering thy ſelfe thou getſt the richeſt ſpoile,
Lacie riſe vp, faire Peggie heeres my hand,
The prince of Wales hath conquered all his thoughts
And all his loues he yeelds vnto the earle,
Lacie enioy the maid of Freſingfield,
Make her thy Lincolne counteſſe at the church,
And Ned as he is true Plantagenet,
Will giue h
••
to thee franckly for thy wi
•
e.
Lacie.
Humbly I take her of my ſoueraigne,
As if that Edward gaue me Englands right,
And richt me with the Albion diadem.
Margret.
And doth the Engliſh Prince mean true,
Will he vouchſafe to ceaſe his former loues,
And yeeld the title of a countrie maid,
Vnto lord Lacie.
Edward.
I will faire Peggi
•
as I am true lord.
Marg.
Then lordly ſir, whoſe conqueſt is as great,
In conquering loue as Caeſars victories,
Margret as milde and humble in her thoughts,
As was Aſpatia vnto Cirus ſelfe,
Yeelds thanks, and next lord Lacie, doth
•
nſhrine
Edward the ſecond ſecret in her heart.
Edw.
Gramercie Peggie, now that vowes are paſt,
And that your loues are not be reuolt:
Once Lacie friendes againe, come we will poſt
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 loued thee.
Beſide, lord Lincolne we ſhall hea
•
e diſpute,
Twixt frier Bacon, and learned Vandermaſt,
Peggie weele leaue you for a weeke or two.
Margret.
As it pleaſe lord Lacie, but loues fooliſh looks,
Thinke footſteps Miles, and minutes to be houres.
Lacie.
Ile haſten Peggie to make ſhort returne,
But pleaſe your houour goe vnto the lodge,
We ſhall haue butter, cheeſe, and veniſon.
And yeſterday I brought for Margret,
A luſtie bottle of neat clarret wine,
Thus can we feaſt and entertaine your grace.
Edward.
Tis cheere lord Lacie for an Emperour,
If he reſpect the perſon and the place:
Come let vs in, for I will all this night,
Ride poſt vntill I come to Bacons cell.
Exeunt.
Enter Henrie, Emperour, Caſtile, Ellinor, Vandermaſt, Bungay.
Emperour.
Truſt me Plantagenet theſe Oxford ſchooles
Are richly ſeated neere the riuer ſide:
The mountaines full of fat and fallow deere,
The batling paſtures laid with kine and flocks,
The towne gorgeous with high built colledges,
And ſchollers ſeemely in their graue attire.
Learned in ſearching principles of art,
What is thy iudgement, Iaquis Vandermaſt.
Vandermaſt.
That lordly are the buildings of the towne,
Spatious the romes and full of pleaſant walkes:
But for the doctors how that they be learned,
It may be meanly, for ought I can heere.
Bungar.
I tell thee Germane, Haſpurge holds none ſuch,
None red ſo deepe as Oxenford containes,
There are within our accademicke ſtate,
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 vſe thee as a royall king.
Vandermast.
Wherein dareſt thou diſpute with me.
Bungay.
In what a Doctor and a Frier can.
Vandermaſt.
Before rich Europes worthies put thou forth
The doubtfull queſtion vnto Vandermaſt.
Bungay.
Let it be this, whether the ſpirites of piromancie
or Geomancie, be moſt predominant in magick.
Vander.
I ſay of Piromancie.
Bungay.
And I of Geomancie.
Vander.
The cabbaliſts that wright of magicke ſpel
•
,
As Hermes, Melchie, and Pithagoras,
Affirme that mongſt the quadruplicitie
Of elementall eſſence, Terra is but thought,
To be a punctum ſquared to the reſt:
And that the compaſſe of aſcending eliments
Exceed in bigneſſe as they doe in height.
Iudging the concaue circle of the ſonne,
To hold the reſt in his circomference,
If then as Hermes ſaies the fire be greatſt,
Pureſt and onely giueth ſhapes to ſpirites:
Then muſt theſe Demones that haunt that place
•
Be euery way ſuperiour to the reſt.
Bungay.
I reaſon not of elementall ſhapes,
Nor tell I of the concaue lattitudes,
Noting their eſſence nor their qualitie,
But of the ſpirites that Piromancie calles,
And of the vigourof the Geomanticke fiends,
I tell thee Germane magicke haunts the grounds,
And thoſe ſtrange necromantick ſpels
That worke ſuch ſhewes and wondering in the world,
Are acted by thoſe Geomanticke ſpirites,
That Hermes calleth Terraefilii.
The fierie ſpirits are but transparant ſhades,
That lightly paſſe as Heralts to beare newes,
But earthly fiends cloſd in the loweſt deepe,
Diſſeuer mountaines if they be but chargd,
Being more groſe and maſsie in their power.
Vander.
Rather theſe earthly geomantike ſpirits,
Are dull and like the place where they remaine:
For when proud Lucipher fell from the heauens,
The ſpirites and angels that did ſin with him,
Retaind their locall eſſence as their faults,
All ſubiect vnder Lunas continent,
They which offended leſſe hang 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,
Hauing leſſe vnderſtanding than the reſt,
As hauing greater ſinne, and leſſer grace.
Therfore ſuch groſſe and earthly ſpirits doe ſerue,
For Iuglers, Witches, and vild ſorcerers,
Whereas the Piromanticke gemij,
Are mightie, ſwift, and of farre reaching power,
But graunt that Geomancie hath moſt force,
Bungay to pleaſe theſe mightie potentates,
Prooue by ſome inſtance what thy art can doe.
Bungay.
I will.
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 fearefull dragon held his ſeate,
That watcht the garden cald Heſperides,
Subdued and wonne by conquering Hercules.
Vandermaſt.
Well done.
Heere Bungay coniures and the tree appeares with the dragon ſhooting fire.
He
••
ie.
What ſay you royall lordings to my frier,
Hath he not done a point of cunning skill.
Vander.
Ech ſcholler in the Nicromanticke ſpels,
Can doe as much as Bungay hath performd,
Bur as Al
•
menas baſterd raſ
•
d this tree,
So will I raiſe him vp as when he liued,
And cauſe him pull the Dragon from his ſeate,
And teare the branches peecemeale from the roote,
Hercules Prod
••
, Pr
•
di Hercules.
Hercules appeares in his Lions skin.
Hercules.
Quis me
•
ult.
Vandermaſt.
Ioues baſtard ſonne thou libian Hercules
Pull off the ſprigs from off the Heſperian tree,
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,
Then art thou worrhy to be counted learned.
Bungay.
I cannot.
Vander.
Ceaſe Hercules vntill I giue thee charge,
Mightie commander of this Engliſh Ile,
Henrie come from the ſtout Plantagenets,
Bungay is learned enough to be a Frier.
But to compare with Iaquis Vandermaſt,
Oxford and Cambridge muſt go ſeeke their celles,
To find a man to match him in his art.
I haue giuen non-plus to the Paduans,
To them of Sien, Florence, and Belogna,
Reimes, Louain and faire Rotherdam,
Franckford, Lutrech and Orleance:
And now muſt Henrie if he do me right,
Crowne me with lawrell as they all haue done.
Enter Bacon.
Bacon.
All haile to this roiall companie,
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.
Bacon.
Men call me Bacon.
Vander.
Lord
•
y thou lookeſt, as if that thou wert learnd,
Thy countenance, as if ſcience held her ſeate
Betweene the circled arches of thy browes.
He
•
ri
•
.
Now Monarcks hath the Germain found his match.
Emperour.
Beſtirre thee Iaquis take not now the foile,
Leaſt thou doeſt looſe what foretime thou didſt gaine.
Vandermaſt.
Bacon, wilt thou diſpute.
Bacon.
Noe, vnleſſe he were more learnd than Vandermaſt.
For yet tell me, what haſt thou done?
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.
Hercules.
Idare 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 Herarchies,
I charge thee to ob
•
y to Vandermaſt.
Hercules.
Bacon, that bridles headſtrong B
•
lcephon
•
Andrules A
•
menoth guid erof the North:
Bindes me from yeelding vnto Vandermaſt.
Hen.
How now Vandermaſt, haue you met with your match.
Vandermaſt.
Neuer before waſ
•
knowne to Vande
•
maſt,
That men held d
•
uils in ſuch obedient awe,
Bacon doth more than art or els I faile.
Emperour.
Why Vandermaſt art thou ouercome,
Bacon diſpute with him, and tri
•
his skill:
Bacon.
I come not Monatckes for to hold diſpute,
With ſuch a nouice as is Vandermaſt,
I come to haue your royalties to di
•
e
With Frier Ba
•
on
•
eere in Brazennoſe,
And for this Germane
•
oubles but the place
And holds this audience wi
•
h a long ſuſpence,
Ile ſe
•
d him to his Accademie hence,
Thou Hercules whom Vandermaſt did raiſe,
Tranſport the Germane vnto Haſpurge ſtraight,
That he may learne by trauaile gainſt the ſprings,
More ſecret doomes and Aphoriſmes of art,
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,
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
•
it my cheere,
See where Prince Edward comes to welcome you:
Gratious as the morning ſtarre of heauen,
Exit.
Ent
•
r Edward, Lacic, Warren, Ermsbie.
Emperour.
Is this Prince Edward Henries royall ſonne,
How mart
•
all i
•
the figur
•
of his face,
Y
•
t louely and be
••
t with Amorets.
Henrie.
N
•
d, where haſt thou been.
Edward.
At Framingham my Lord, to trie your buckes.
I
•
they could ſcape they teiſers or the toile:
But hearing of theſe lordly Potentates
Landed, and prograſt vp to Oxford towne,
I poſted to giue entertaine to them,
Chiefe to the Almaine Monarke, next to him,
And ioynt with him, Caſtile and Saxonie,
Are welcome as they may b
•
to the Engliſh Court.
Thus for the men, but ſee Venus appeares,
Or one that ouermatch eth Venus in her ſhape,
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.
Ellinor.
Martiall Plantagenet, Henries high minded ſonne
•
The marke that Ellinor did count her aime,
I likte thee fore I ſaw thee, now I loue,
And ſo as in ſo ſhort a time I may:
Yet ſo as time ſhall neuer breake that ſo,
And therefore ſo accept of Ellinor.
Ca
••
ile.
Feare not my Lord, this couple will agree,
If loue may creepe into their wanton eyes:
And therefore Edward I accept thee heere,
Without ſuſpence, as my adopted ſonne.
Henrie.
Let me that ioy in theſe conſorting greets,
And glorie in theſe honors done to Ned,
Yeeld thankes for all theſe fauours to my ſonne,
And reſt a true Plantagenet to all.
Enter Miles with a cloth and trenchers and ſalt.
Miles.
Saluete
•
mnes reges, that gouern your Greges, in Saxonie and Spaine, in England and in Almaine: for all this frolicke table muſt I couer thee table, with trenchers, ſalt and cloth, and thenlooke for your broth.
Emperour.
What pleaſant fellow is this.
Henrie.
Tis my lord, doctor Bacons poore ſcholler.
Mil
•
s.
My maiſter hath made me ſewer of theſe great lords, and God knowes I am as ſeruiceable at a table, as a ſow is vnder
•
n apple tree: tis no matter, their cheere ſhall not be great, and therefore what skils where the ſalt ſtand before or behinde.
Caſtile.
Theſeſchollers knowes more skill in actiomes,
How to vſe quips and ſleights of Sophiſtrie,
Than for to couer courtly for a king.
Enter Mi
•
es with a meſse of po
••
age and broth, and after him Eacon.
Mile
•
.
Spill ſir, why doe you thinke I neuer carried twopeny chop before in my life: by your leaue, Nobile d
•
cus, for here comes doctor Bacons pecus, being in his full age, to carrie a meſſe of pottage.
Bacon.
Lordings admire not if your cheere be this,
For we muſt keepe our Accademicke fare,
No riot where Philoſophi
•
doth raine,
And therefore Henrie place theſe Potentates,
And bid them fall vnto their frugall cates.
Emp.
Preſumptuous Frier, what ſcoffſt thou at a king,
What doeſt thou taunt vs with thy peſants fare,
And giue vs cates fit for countrey ſwaines,
Henrie proceeds this ieſt of thy conſent,
To twit vs with ſuch a pittance of ſuch price,
Tell me, and Fredericke will not greeue the long.
Henrie.
By Henries honour and the royall faith
The Engliſh monarcke beareth to his friend:
I knew not of the friers feeble fare,
Nor am I pleaſd he entertaines you thus.
Bacon.
Content thee Fredericke for I ſhewd the cates
To let thee ſee how ſchollers
•
ſe to feede:
How little m
•
ate refines our Engliſh wits,
Miles take away, and let it be thy dinner.
Miles.
Marry ſir I wil, this day ſhal be a feſtiual day with me,
For I ſhall exceed in the higheſt degree.
Exit Miles.
Bacon.
I tell thee Monarch, all the Germane Peeres
Could not a
••
oord thy entertainmentſuch,
So roiall and ſo full of Maieſtie,
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,
Fetcht by Carueils from Aegypts richeſt ſtraights:
Found in the wealthy ſtrond of Affrica,
Shall royallize the table of my king,
Wines richer than the Gyptian courtiſan,
Qua
•
t to Auguſtus kingly countermatch,
Shalbe carrowſt in
••
gliſh Henries feaſts
•
Candie ſhall yeeld the richeſt of her canes,
Perſia downe her volga by Canows,
Send d
•
wn the ſecrets of her ſpicerie.
The Africke Dates mirab les of Spaine,
Conſerues, and Suckets from Tiberias,
Cates from Iudea choiſer than the lampe
That fiered Rome with ſparkes of gluttonie,
Shall bewtiſie the board for Fredericke,
And therfore grudge not at a friers feaſt.
Enter two gentlemen, Lambert, and Serlby with the keeper.
Lambert.
Come frolicke keeper of our lieges game,
Whoſe table ſpred hath euer veniſon,
And Iacks of wines to welcome paſſengers,
Know I am in loue with iolly Margret,
That ouer-ſhines our damſels as the moone,
Darkneth the brighteſt ſparkles of the night,
In Laxfield heere my land and liuing lies,
Ile make thy daughter ioy
•
ter of it all,
So thou conſent to giue her to my wiſe,
And I can ſpend fiue hundreth markes a yeare.
Serlbie.
I am the lan
•
lord keeper of thy holds,
By coppie all thy liuing lies in me.
Laxfield did neuer ſee me raiſe my due,
I will infeofe faire Margret in all,
So ſhe will take her to a luſtie ſquire.
Keeper.
Now courteous gentls, if the Keepers girl
•
,
Hath pleaſed the l
•
king fancie of you both,
And with her beutie hath ſubdued your thoughts,
Tis doubtfull to decide the queſtion.
It ioyes me that ſuch men of great eſteeme,
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,
I will to auoid diſpleaſure of you both,
Call Margret forth, and ſhe ſhall make her choiſe,
Exit.
Lambert.
Content Keeper ſend h
•
rvnto vs.
Why Serlsby is thy wife ſo lately dead,
Are all thy loues ſo lightly paſſed ouer,
As thou canſt wed before the yeare be out,
Serlsby.
I liue not Lambert to content the dead,
Nor was I wedded but for life to her,
The graues ends and begins a maried ſtate.
Enter Margr
•
t.
Lambert.
Peggie the louelie ſlower of all townes,
Suffolks faire Hellen, and rich Englands ſtar,
Whoſe beautietempered with her huſwifrie,
Maks England talke of merry Fr
•
ſing
•
ield.
Serlsby.
I cannot tricke it vp with poeſies,
Nor paint my paſsions with compariſons,
Nor tell a tall of Phebus and his loues,
But this beeleue me Laxfield here is mine,
Of auncient rent ſeuen hundred pounds a yeare,
And if thou canſt but loue acountrie ſquire,
I wil infeoffe thee Margret in all,
I can not flatter, trie me if thou pleaſe.
Mar.
Braue neighbouring ſquires the ſtay of Suffolks cli
•
e,
A Keepers daughters is too baſe in gree
To match with men accoumpted of ſuch worth,
But might I notdiſpleaſe I would reply,
Lambert.
Say Peggy nought ſhall make vs diſcontent.
Marg.
Then gentils note that loue 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 haue debated with my ſelfe,
Who or of whom
•
loue ſhall conſtraine me like,
Serlsbie.
Let it be me and truſt me Margret,
The meads inuironed with the ſiluer ſtreames,
Whoſe Batling paſtures fatneth all my flockes,
Yelding forth fleeces ſtapled with ſuch woole,
As Lempſter cannot yelde more finer ſtuffe
And fortie kine with faire and burniſht heads,
With ſtrouting duggs that paggle to the ground,
Shall ſerue thy dary if thou wed with me.
Lambert.
Let paſſe the countrie wealth as flocks and kine,
And lands that waue with Ceres golden ſheues
filling my barnes with plentie of the fieldes,
But peggie if thou wed thy ſelfe to me,
Thou ſhalt haue garments of Imbrodred ſilke,
Lawnes and rich networks for thy head attyre
Coſtlie ſhalbe thy fare abiliments,
If thou wilt be but Lamberts louing wife.
Margret
Content you gentles you haue profered faire
•
And more than fits a countrie maids degree,
But giue me leaue to counſaile me a time,
For fancie bloomes not at the firſt aſſault,
Giue me but ten dayes reſpite and I will replye,
Which or to whom my ſelfe affectionats.
Serslby.
Lambert I tell thee thou art importunate,
Such beautie fits not ſuch a baſe eſquire
It is for Serlsby to haue Margret.
Lamb.
Thinkſt thou with wealth to ouer reach me
Serlsby, I ſcorne to brooke thy country braues
I dare thee Coward to maintaine this wrong,
At dint of rapier ſingle in the field.
Serlsby
Ile aunſwe
•
e Lamb
•
rt what I haue auoucht
Margret farewel, another time ſhall ſerue.
Exit Serlsby
Lambert.
Ile follow Peggie far
•
well to thy ſelfe,
Liſten how well
•
le anſwer for thy lo
•
e.
Exit Lambert
Margeret.
How Fort
•••
tempe
•
s lucky happes with frowns,
And wrongs me wi
•
h the ſweets of my delight,
Loue is my bliſ
•
e, and loue is now my bale,
Shall I be Hellen in my forward fates,
As I am Hellen in my ma
•
chles h
•
e
And ſet rich Su
••
olke with my face afire,
If louely Lacie were but with hi
•
Peggy,
The cloudie darckeneſ
•
e of his bitter
•
rowne
Would ch
••
k the pride of theſe aſpiring ſquires,
Before the te
••
e of ten dayes be expired,
When as they looke for a
••
ſwere of their loues,
My Lord will come to merry F
•
iſingfield,
And end their fancies, and their follies both,
Til when Peggie be b
••
th and of good cheere.
Enter a poſt with a letter and a bag of gold.
Poſt.
Fair louely damſell which way leads this path,
How might I poſt mevn
•
o Friſingfield,
which footpath leadeth to the keepers lodge?
Margeret
You
•
way is
•
eady and this path is right,
My ſelfe do
•
dwe
••
her
•
by in Friſingfield,
And if the keeper be the
•
an you ſeeke,
I am his daughter may
〈…〉
the cauſe?
Poſt
Louely and once b
•
lo
••
d of my lord,
No merua
•
le if his ey
•
was
•
odg
•
ſo low,
when brigh
••
r
〈◊〉
is not
•
n the he a
•
ens,
The Lincolne earle hath
•
ent you letters here,
And with them, iuſt an hundr
•
d pounds in gold,
Sweete bonny w
•
nch read them and make reply.
Margret.
The ſcrowles that Ioue 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 vnrip the ſeales,
Liues Lacie well, how fares my louely Lord?
Poſt.
Well, if that wealth may make men to liue well.
The letter, and Margre
•
reads it.
Margaret.
THe bloomes of the Almond tree grow in a night, and vaniſh in a mome, the flies Hamere (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 loues, haue euer 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 diſſen
•
blers, and fancie is but queaſie, therefore know Margret, I haue choſen a Spaniſh Lad
•
e to be my wife, cheefe waighting woman to the Pri
•
ceſſ
•
Ellinour, a Lady ſaire, and no leſſe faire th
•
n thy ſelfe, honor
•
ble and wealthy, in that I forſake thee I leaue thee to thine own liking
•
and for thy dowr
•
e I haue ſent thee an hundred pounds, and euer aſſur
•
thee of my fauour, which ſhall auaile thee and thine much. Farewell.
Not thine nor his owne,
Ed
•
ard L
••
i
•
.
Fond Atae doomer of bad boading fates,
That wrappes proud Fortune in thy ſnaky locks,
Didſt thou inchaunt my byrth-day with ſuch ſtars,
As lightned miſcheefe from their infancie,
If heauens had vowd, if
•
tars had made decree,
To ſhew on me their froward influence,
If L
•
cie had but lovd, heauens hell and all,
Could not haue wrongd the p
•
tience of my minde.
P
•
ſt.
It grieues me damſell, but the Ear
••
is forſt
To loue the Lady, by the Kings commaund.
Margret
The wealth combinde within the Engliſh ſhelues,
Europes commaunder no
•
the Engliſh King,
Should not haue moude the loue of Peggie from her Lord.
P
•
ſ
•
.
What anſwere ſhall I returne to my Lord?
Margret.
Firſt for thou camſt from Lacie whom I lovd,
Ah giue me leaue to ſigh at euery thought,
Take thou my freind the hundred pound he ſent,
For Margrets reſolution craues no dower,
The world ſhalbe to her as vanitie,
Wealth traſh, loue hate, pleaſure diſpaire,
For I will ſtraight to ſtately Fremingham,
And in the abby there be ſhorne a Nun
And yeld my loues and libertie to God,
Fellow I giue thee this, not for the newes,
For thoſe be hatefull vnto Margret,
But for thart Lacies man once Margrets loue.
Poſt.
What I haue heard what paſsions I haue ſeene
Ile make report of them vnto the Earle.
Exit P
•••
Margret.
Say that ſhe ioyes his fancies be at reſt,
And praies that his misfortune may be hers.
Exit
Enter Frier Bacon drawing the courtaines with a white ſticke, a booke in his hand, and a lampe lighted by him, and the braſen head and miles, whith weapons by him.
Bacon.
Miles where are you?
Mites.
Here ſir.
Bacon.
How chaunce you tarry ſo long?
Miles.
Thinke you that the watching of the brazen head craues no furniture? I warrant you ſir I haue ſo armed my ſelfe, that if all your deuills come I will not feare them an inch.
Bacon.
Miles thou knoweſt that I haue diued into hell,
And ſought the darkeſt pallaces of fiendes,
That with my Magick ſpels great Belcephon,
Hath left his lodge and kneeled at my cell,
The rafters of the earth rent from the poles,
And three-formd Luna hid her filuer looks,
Trembling vpon her concaue contenent,
When Bacon red vpon his Magick booke,
With ſeuen yeares toſsing nigromanticke charmes,
Poring vpon darke Hecats principles,
I haue framd out a monſtrous head of braſſe,
That by theinchaunting forces of the deuil,
Shall tell out ſtrange and vncoth Aphoriſmes,
And girt faire England with a wall of braſſe,
Bungay and I haue watcht theſe threeſcore daye
•
,
And now our vitall ſpirites craue ſome reſt,
If Argos livd and had his hundred eyes,
They could not ouerwatch Phobeters night,
Now Miles in thee reſts Frier Bacons weale,
The honour and renowne af 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,
This night thou watch, for ere the morning ſtar
Sends out his glorious gliſter on the north,
The head will ſpeake, then Miles vpon thy life,
Wake me for then by Magick art Ile worke,
To end my ſeuen yeares taske with excellence,
If that awinke but ſhut thy watchfull eye,
Thenfarewell 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 meruaile, for Bungay on the dayes, and he on the nights, haue watcht Iuſt theſe ten and fifty dayes, now this is the night, and tis my taske and no more. Now Ieſus bleſſe me what a goodly head it is, and a noſe, you talke of n
•
s autem gl
•
r
•
ficar
•
, but heres a noſe, that I warrant may be cald nos autem p
•
pelare for the people of the pariſh, well I am furniſhed with weapons,, now ſit I will ſet me downe by a poſt, and mak
•
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, paſsion a God I haue almoſt broke my pate, Vp Miles to your S
•
t down and knocke your head. taske, take your browne bill in your hand, heeres ſome of your maiſters hobgoblins abroad.
With this a great noiſe.
The Head ſpeakes.
Head.
Time is.
Mil
•
s.
Time is, Why maiſter Brazenhead haue you ſuch a capitall noſe, and anſwer you with ſillables, Time is: is this all my maiſters cunning, to ſpend ſeuen yeares ſtudie about Time is: well ſir, it may be we ſhall haue ſome better orations of it anon, well Ile watch you as narrowly as euer you were watcht, and Ile play with you as the Nightingale with the Slowworme, Ile ſet a pricke againſt my breſt: now reſt there Miles, Lord haue mercy vpon me, I haue almoſt kild my ſelſe: vp Miles liſt how they rumble.
Head.
Time was.
Miles.
Well frier Bacon, you ſpent your ſeuen years 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 ar
•
e ake and your Head ſpeake no better: well I will watch and walke vp and downe, and be a Perepatetian and a Philoſopher of Ariſtotles ſtampe, what a freſhe noiſe, take thy piſtols in hand Miles.
Heere the Head ſpeakes and a lightning flaſheth forth, and a hand appeares that breaketh down the Head with a hammer.
Head.
Time is paſt.
Miles.
Maiſter maiſter, vp, hels broken looſe, your Head ſpeakes, and theres ſuch a thunder and lightning, that I warrant all Oxford is vp in armes, out of your bed and take a browne bill
in your hand, the latter day is come.
Bacon.
Miles I come, oh paſsing warily watcht,
Bacon will make thee next himſelfe in loue,
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.
Bacon.
Why villaine hath it ſpoken oft.
Miles.
Oft, I marie hath it thrice: but in all thoſe three times it hath vttered but ſeuen wordes.
Bacon.
As how
Miles.
Mar
•
ie ſir, the firſt time he ſaid, Time is, as if Fabius cumentator ſhould haue prono
•
nſt a ſentence, 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 villaine time is paſt,
My life, my fame, my glorie, all are paſt:
Bacon, the turrets of thy hope are ruind downe,
Thy ſeuen yeares ſtudie lieth in the duſt:
Thy Brazen-head lies broken through a ſlaue
That watcht, and would not when the Head did will,
What ſaid the Head firſt.
Miles.
Euen ſir, Time is,
Bacon.
Villaine if thou hadſt cald to Bacon then,
If thou hadſt watcht and wakte the ſleepie frier,
The Brazen-head had vttered Aphoriſmes,
And England had been circled round with braſſe,
But proud Aſtm
•
roth ruler of the North,
And Demegorgon maiſter of the fates,
Grudge that a mortall man ſhould worke ſo much,
Hell trembled at my deepe commanding ſpels,
Fiendes frownd to ſee a man their ouermatch,
Bacon might boſt more than a man might boaſt:
But now the braues of Bacon hath an end,
Europes conceit of Bacon hath an end:
His ſeuen yeares practiſe ſorteth toill end:
And villaine ſith my glorie hath an end,
I will appoint thee fatall to ſome end,
Villaine auoid getthee from Bacons ſight:
Vag
••
t go
•
ome and range about the world,
And peri
••
as a vagabond on earth.
Miles.
Why then ſir you forbid me your ſeruice.
Bacon.
My ſeruice villaine with a fatall curſe,
That direfull plagues and miſchiefe fall on thee.
Miles.
Tis no matter I am againſt you with the old prouerb, The more the foxis curſt the better he fares: God be with you ſir, Ile take but a booke in my hand, a wide ſleeued gowne on my backe, and a crowned cap on my head, and ſee if I can want promotion.
Bacon.
Some fiend or ghoſt haunt on thy wearie ſteps,
Vntill they doe tranſport thee quicke to hell,
For Bacon ſhall haue neuer merrie day,
To looſe the fame and honour of his Head.
Exit.
Enter Emperour, Caſtile, Henrie, Ellinor, Edward, Lacie, Raphe.
Emper.
Now louely Prince the prince of Albions wealth,
How fares the ladie Ellinor and you:
What haue you courted and found Caſtile fit,
To anſwer England in equiuo
•
ence
Wilt be a match twixt bonny Nell and thee.
Ed
•
.
Should Paris enter in the courts of Greece,
And not lie fettered in faire Hellens lookes,
Or Pho
•
bus ſcape thoſe piercing amorits,
That Daphne glaunſed at his d
•
itie:
Can Edward then
•
it by a flame and freeze,
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 louely counterfeit,
And hearing how his minde and ſhape agreed,
I come not troopt with all this warlike traine,
Doubting of loue, but ſo effectionat
As Edward hath in England what he wonne in Spaine.
Caſt
•
le.
A match my lord, theſe wantons needes muſt loue,
Men muſt haue wiues and women will be wed,
Lets haſt the day to honour vp 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 coniure him and her with his Nigromancie, that they ſhall loue togither like pigge and lamb
•
whileſt they liue.
Cast
•
le.
But hearſt thou Raphe, art thou content to haue
•
llinor to thy ladie.
Raph
•
.
I ſo ſhe will promiſe me two things.
Caſt
•
le.
Whats that Raphe.
Raphe.
That ſhee will neuer ſcold with Ned nor fight with me, Sirha Harry I haue put her downe with a thing vnpoſsible,
Henry.
Whats that Raphe.
Raphe.
Why Harrie didſt thou euer 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 prooue a bagpiper.
Emperour.
What ſaies 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
How he diſcourſeth of the conſtancie,
Of one ſurnam'd fot beauties excellence,
The faire maid of merrie Freſingfield.
Henrie.
Tis true my lord, tis wondrous for to heare,
Her beautie paſsing Marces parramour:
Her virgins right as rich as Veſtas was,
Lacie and Ned hath told me miracles.
Caſtile.
What ſaies lord Lacie, ſhall ſhe be his wife.
L
•
ci
•
.
Or els lord Lacie is vnfit to liue,
May it pleaſe your highneſſe giue me leaue to poſt
To Freſingfield Ilefetch the bonny girle,
And prooue in true apparance at the court
What I haue vouched often with my tongue.
Henrie.
Lacie, go to the quirie of my ſtable,
And take ſuch courſers as ſhall fit thy turne,
Hie thee to Frefingfield and bring home the laſſe,
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,
Your highneſle may command a greater boone,
And glad were I to grace the Lincolne earle
With being partner of his marriage day.
Ed
•
ard.
Gramercie Nell for I do loue the lord,
As he thats ſecond to my ſelfe in loue.
Raph.
You loue her, madam Nell, neuer beleeue him you though he ſweares he loues you.
Ellinor.
Why Raphe.
R
•
p
•
e.
Why his loue is like vnto a tapſters glaſſe that is broken with euery tutch, for he loued the faire maid of Freſingfield once out of all hoe, nay Ned neuer wincke vpon me, I care not I.
Hen.
Raphe tels all, you ſhall haue a good ſecretarie of him,
But Lacie haſte thee poſt to Freſingfield:
For ere thou haſt fitted all things for her ſtate,
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,
Follow my lords, you ſhall not want for ſport.
Exeunt.
Enter frier Bacon with fri
•
r B
•
nga
•
to his cell.
Bungay.
What meanes the frier that frolickt it of late,
To ſit as melancholie in his cell:
To ſit as melancholie in his cell,
As if he had neither loſt nor wonne to day.
Bacon.
Ah Bungay my Brazen-head is ſpold,
My glorie gone, my ſeuen yeares ſtudie loſt:
The fame of Bacon bruted through the world,
Shall end and periſh with this deepe diſgrace.
Bungay.
Bacon hath built foundation on his fame,
So ſurely on the wings of true report,
With acting ſtrange and vncoth miracles,
As this cannot infringe what he deſerues.
Bacon.
Bungay ſit down, for by proſpectiue 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.
Bungay.
My minde is heauy what ſo ere ſhall hap.
Enter two ſchollers, ſonnes-to Lambert and Serlby. Knockc.
Bacon.
Whoſe that knockes.
Bungay.
Two ſchollers that deſires to ſpeake with you.
Bac.
Bid the come in, Now my youths what would you
•
aue.
1. Sholler.
Sir we are Suffolke men and neighbouring friends,
Our fathers in their countries luſtie ſquires,
Their lands adioyne, in Crackfield mine doth dwell,
And his in Laxfield, we are colledge mates,
Sworne brothers as our fathers liues as friendes.
B
•
con.
To what end is ail this.
2. Scholler.
Hearing your worſhip kept within your cell
A glaſſe proſpectiue wherin men might ſee,
What ſo their thoughts or hearts deſire could wiſh,
We come to know how that our fathers fare.
Bacon.
My glaſſe is free for euery honeſt man,
Sit downe and you ſhall ſee ere long,
How or in what ſtate your friendly father liues,
Meane while tell me your names.
L
•
mbert.
Mine Lambert.
2. Scholler.
And mine Serlsbie.
Bacon.
Bungay, I ſmell there will be a tragedie.
Enter Lambert and Serlsbie, with Rapiers and dagg
•
rs.
L
•
mbert.
Serlsby thou haſt kept thine houre like a man,
Th'art worthie of the title of a ſquire:
That durſt for proofe of thy affection,
And for thy miſtreſſe fauour prize thy bloud,
Thou knowſt what words did paſſe at Freſingfield,
Such ſhameleſſe braues as manhood cannot brooke:
I for I skorne to beare ſuch piercing taunts,
Prepare thee Serlsbie one of vs will die.
Serl
•
bie.
Thou ſeeſt I ſingle thee the field,
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 haue a ſonne,
That liues in Oxford in the Brodgates hall,
Who will reuenge his fathers bloud with bloud.
Lambert.
And Serlsbie I haue there a luſty boy,
That dares at weapon buckle with thy ſonne,
And liues in Broadgates too as well as thine,
But draw thy Rapier for weele haue about.
Bacon.
No
•
luſtie yonkers looke within the glaſſe,
And tell me if you can diſcerne your
•
ires.
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,
And thou ſhalt find it, if my father harme.
Bungay.
How goes it ſirs.
1. Scholler.
Our fathers are in combat hard by Freſingfield.
Bacon.
Sit ſtill my friendes and ſee the euent.
Lambert.
Why ſtandſt thou Serlsbie doubtſt thou of thy life,
A venie man, faire Margret craues ſo much.
Serlbie.
Then this for her.
1. Scholler.
Ah well thruſt.
2. Scholler.
But marke the ward.
They fight and kill ech other.
Lambert.
Oh I am ſlaine.
Serlbie.
And I, Lord haue mercie on me.
1. Scholler.
My father ſlaine, Serlby ward that.
The two ſchollers ſtab on another.
2. Scholler.
And ſo is mine Lambert, Ile quite thee well.
Bungay.
O ſtrange ſtrattagem.
Bacon.
See Frier where the fathers both lie dead.
Baconthy magicke doth effect this maſſacre:
This glaſſe proſpectiue worketh manie woes,
And therefore ſeeing theſe braue luſtie brutes,
Theſe friendly youths did periſh by thine art,
End all thy magicke and thine art at once:
The poniard that did end the fatall liues,
Shall breake the cauſe efficiat of their woes,
So fade the glaſſe, and end with it the ſhowes,
That Nigromancie did infuſe the chriſtall with.
He breakes the glaſſe.
B
•
ng.
What means learned Bacon thus to breake his glaſſe.
B
•
con.
I tell thee Bungay it repents me ſore,
That euer Bacon medled in this art,
The houres I haue ſpent in piromanticke ſpels,
The fearefull toſsing in the lateſt night,
Of papers full of Nigromanticke charmes,
Coniuring and adiuring diuels and fiends,
With ſtole and albe and ſtrange Pentaganon,
The wreſting of the holy name of God,
As Sother, Elaim, and Adonaie,
Alpha, M
•
noth, and Tetragramiton,
With praying to the fiue-fould powers of heaue
•
,
Are inſtances that Bacon muſt be damde,
For vſing diuels to counteruaile his God.
Yet Bacon cheere thee, drowne not in deſpaire,
Sinnes haue their ſalues repentance can do much,
Thinke mercie ſits where Iuſtice holds her ſeate,
And from thoſe wounds thoſe bloudie Iews 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 Iehouahs ire,
And make thee as a new borne babe from ſinne,
Bungay Ile ſpend the remnant of my life
In pure deuotion praying to my God,
That he would ſaue what Bacon vainly loſt.
Exit.
Enter Mar
•
ret in Nuns apparrell, Keeper, her father, and their friend.
Keep.
Margret be not ſo headſtrong in theſe vows,
Oh burie not ſuch beautie in a cell:
That England hath held famous for the hue,
Thy fathers haire like to the ſiluer bloomes:
That beautifie the ſhrubs of Affrica
Shall fall before the dated time of death,
Thus to forgoe his louely Margret.
Margret.
A father when the hermonie of heauen,
ſoundeth the meaſures of a liuely faith:
The vaine Illuſions of this fl
•
ttering world,
Seemes odious to the thoughts of Margret,
I loued once, lord Lacie was my loue,
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 repent
••
But now the touch of ſuch aſpiring ſinnes
Tels me all loue is luſt but loue of heauens:
That beautie vſde for loue is vanitie,
The world containes nought but alluring baites:
Pride, flatterie, and inconſtant thoughts,
To ſhun the pricks of death I leaue the world,
And vow to meditate on heauenly bliſſe,
To liue in Framingham a holy Nunne,
Holy and pure in conſcience and in deed:
And for to wiſh all maides to learne of me,
To ſeeke heauens ioy before earths vanitie.
Friend.
And will you then Margret be ſhor
•
a Nunne, and ſo leaue vs all.
Margret.
Now farewell world the engin of all woe,
Farewell to friends and father, welcome Chriſt:
Adew to daintie robes, this baſe attire
Better befits an humble minde to God,
Than all the ſhew of rich abilliments,
Loue, oh Loue, and with fond Loue farewell,
Sweet Lacie whom I loued once ſo deere,
Euer be well, but neuer in my thoughts,
Leaſt I offend to thinke on Lacies loue:
But euen to that as to the reſt farewell.
Enter Lacie, Warrain, Ermsbie, booted and ſpurd.
Lacie.
Come on my wags weere neere the keepers lodge,
Heere haue I oft walkt in the watrie Meades,
And chatted with my louely Margret.
VVarraine.
Sirha Ned, is not this the keeper.
Lacie.
Tis the ſame.
E
•
msbie.
The old lecher hath gotton holy mutton to him a Nunne my lord.
L
•
cie.
Keeper how fareſt thou holla man, what cheere,
How doth Peggie thy daughter and my loue.
Ke
•
per.
Ah good my lord, oh wo is me for Pegge,
See where ſhe ſtands clad in her Nunnes attire,
Readie for to be ſhorne in Framingham:
She leaues the world becauſe ſhe left your loue,
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,
As die a maid, twere iniurie to me.
To ſmother vp ſuch bewtie in a cell.
M
•
rgret.
Lord Lacie thinking of thy former miſſ
•
,
How fond the prime of wanton yeares were ſpent
In loue, Oh fie vppon that fond conceite,
Whoſe hap and eſſence hangeth in the eye,
I leaue both loue and loues content at once,
Betaking me to him that is true loue,
And le
•
uing all the world for loue of him.
Lacie.
Whence Peggie comes this Metamorphoſis,
What ſhorne a Nun, and I haue from the co urt,
Poſted with courſers to conuaie thee hence,
To Windſore, where our Mariage ſhalbe kept,
Thy wedding robes are in the tailors hands,
Come Peggy leaue theſe peremptorie vowes.
Margret.
Did not my lord reſigne his intereſt,
And make diuorce twixt Margret and him
•
Lacy.
Twas but to try ſweete Peggies conſtancie,
But will faire Margret leaue her loue and Lord?
Margret.
Is not heauens ioy before earths fading bliſſe,
And life aboue ſweeter than life in loue,
Lacie.
Why then Margret will be ſhorne a Nun,
Marg.
Margret hath made a vow which may not be reuokt.
Warraine.
We cannot ſtay my Lord, and if ſhe be ſo ſtrict,
Our leiſure graunts vs not to woo a freſh.
Ermsby.
Chooſe you faire damſell, yet the choiſe is yours,
Either a ſolemne Nunnerie, or the court,
God, or Lord Lacie, weich contents you beſt,
To be a Nun, or els Lord Lacies wife.
Lacie.
A good motion, Peggie your anſwere muſt be ſhort.
Ma
•
gret.
The fleſh is frayle, my Lord doth know it well,
That when he comes with his inchanting face,
What ſo er
•
betyde I cannot ſay him nay,
Off goes the habite of a maidens heart,
And ſeeing Fortune will, faire Fremingham,
And all the ſhew of holy Nuns farewell,
Lacie for m
•
, if he wilbe my lord.
Lacie.
Peggie thy Lord, thy loue, thy husband,
Truſt me, by truth of knighthood, that the King
Staies for to marry matchles Ellinour,
Vntil 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 the Engliſh King had giuen
The parke and decre of Friſingfield to me.
Erms.
I pray thee my Lord of Suſſex why art thou in a broune ſtudy?
Warraine.
To ſee the nature of women, that be they neuer ſo neare God, yet they loue to die in a mans armes.
Lacie.
What haue you fit for breakefaſt? we haue hied and poſted all this night to Friſingfield.
Margret.
Butter and cheeſe and humbls of a Deere,
Such as poore Keepers haue within their lodge.
Lacie.
And not a bottle of wine?
Margret.
Weele find one for my Lord.
Lacie.
Come Suſſex lets in, we ſhall haue more, for ſhe ſpeaks leaſt, to hold her promiſe ſure.
Exeunt.
Enter a denill to ſeeke Miles.
Deuill.
How reſtles are the ghoſts of helliſh ſpirites,
When euerie charmer with his Magick ſpels
Cals vs from nine-fold trenched Blegiton,
To ſcud and ouer-ſcoure the earth in poſt,
Vpon the ſpeedie wings of ſwifteſt winds,
Now Bacon hath raiſd m
•
from the darkeſt deepe,
To ſearch about the world for Miles his man,
For Miles, and to torment his laſie bones,
For careles watchidg of his Braſen head,
See where he comes, Oh he is mine.
Enter Miles with a gown
•
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, 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 deuil and Frier Bacon, haunts me, good Lord heers one of my maiſters deuils, Ile goe ſpeake to him, what maiſter Plutus, how chere you?
Deuill.
Dooſt thou know me?
Miles.
Know you ſir, why are not you one of my maiſters deuils, that were wont to come to my maiſter Doctor Bacon, at Brazen-noſe?
Deuil.
Yes marry am I.
Miles.
Good Lord M. Plutus I haue ſeene you a thouſand times at my maiſters and yet I had neuer the manners to make you drinke, but ſir, I am glad to ſee how conformable you are to the ſtatute, I warrant you heesasyeomanlya man, as you ſhall ſee, marke you maiſters, heers a plaine honeſt man, without welt or garde, but I pray you ſir do you come lately from hel?
Deuil.
I marry how then,
Miles.
Faith tis a place I haue deſired long to ſee, haue you not good tipling houſes there, may not a man haue a luſtie fier there, apot of good ale, a paire of cardes, a ſwinging peece of chalke, and a browne toaſt that will clap a white waſtcoat on a cup of good drinke?,
Deuil.
All thisyou may haue there.
Miles.
You are for me freinde, and I am for you, but I pray you, may I not haue an office there?
Deuil.
Yes a thouſand, what wouldſt thou be?
Miles.
By my troth ſir in a place where I may profit my ſelfe, I know hel is a hot place, and men are meruailous drie, and much drinke is ſpent there, I would be a tapſter.
Deuil.
Thou ſhalt.
Miles,
Theres nothing lets me from going with you, but that tis a long iourney, and I haue neuer a horſe.
Deuil.
Thou ſhalt ride on my backe.
Miles.
Now ſurely hers acourteous deuil, that for to pleaſure
his friende wil not ſtick to make a iade of himſelfe, but I pray you goodman f
•
iend let me moue a queſtion to you.
Deuil.
Whats that?
Miles.
I pray you whether is your pace a trot or an amble?
Deuil.
An amble.
Miles.
Tis well, but take heede it be not a trot,
But tis no matter Ile preuent it.
Deuil.
What dooſt?
Miles.
Marry friend I put on my ſpurs, for if I find your pace either a trot or els vneaſie, Ile put you to a falſe gallop, Ile make you feele the benefit of my ſpurs.
Deuil.
Get vp vpon my back.
Miles.
Oh Lord heres euen a goodly meruaile, when a man rides to hell on the Deuils backe.
Exeunt roring.
Enter the Emperour with a pointles ſword, next the King of Caſtile, carrying a ſword with a point, Lacie carying the globe Ed. Warr
•
carrying arod of gold with a doue on it, Ermsby with a crowne and Scepter, The queene with the faire maide of Friſingfield on her left hand, Henry,
•
acon with other Lords attending.
Edward.
Great potentates earths miracles for ſtate,
Thinke that prince Edward humbles at your feet,
And for theſe fauours on his martiall ſword,
He vowes perpetuall homage to yourſelues,
Yeelding theſe honours vnto Ellinour.
Henrie.
Gramercies Lordlings, old Plantagenet,
That rules and ſwayes the Albion diademe,
With teares diſcouers theſe conceaued ioyes,
And vowes requitall, if his men at armes,
The wealth of England, or due honours done
To Ellinour, may quite his fauorites.
But all this while what ſay you to the Dames,
That ſhine like to the criſtall lampes of heauen?
Emperour.
If but a third were added to theſe two
They did ſurpaſſe thoſe gorgeous images,
That gloried Ida with rich beauties wealth.
Margret.
Tis I my lords who humbly on my knee,
Muſt yelde her oriſons to mighti
•
Ioue,
For lifting vp his handmaide to this ſtate,
Brought from her homely cottage to the court,
And graſte with Kings Princes and Emperours,
To whom (next to the noble Lincolne Earle)
I vowe obedience, and ſuch humble loue,
As may a handmaid to ſuch mightie men.
Ellinour.
Thou m
•
rtiall man that wears the Almaine crowne,
And you the weſterne Potentates of might,
The Albian Princeſſe, Engliſh Edwards wife,
Prowde that the louely ſtar of Friſingfield,
Faire Margret, Counteſſe to the Lincolne Earle,
Attendes on Ellinour, gramercies Lord for her,
Tis I giue thanks for Margret to you all,
And reſt for her due bounden to your ſelues.
Henrie.
Seeing the marriage is ſolemniſed,
Lets martch in triumph to the royall feaſt,
But why ſtands Frier Bacon here ſo mute?
Bacon.
Repentant for the follies of my youth,
That Magicks ſecreat miſteries miſled,
And ioyfull that this roiall marriage,
Portendes ſuch bliſſe vnto this matchles realme.
Hen.
Why Bacon what ſtraunge euēt ſhall happē to this land
Or what ſhall grow from Edward and his Queene.
Bacon.
I find by deepe praeſcience of mine art,
Which once I tempred in my ſecreat cell,
That here where Brute did build his Troynouant,
From forth the royall garden of a King,
S
•
all flowriſh out, ſo rich and faire a bud,
Whoſe brightneſſe ſhall deface proude Phoebus flowr
•
,
And ouer-ſhadow Albion with her leaues.
Til then, Mars ſhal
•
be maiſter of the field,
But then the ſtormie threats of wars ſhall ceaſe,
The horſe ſhall ſtampe as careles of the pike,
D
•
ums ſhallbe turnd to timbrells of delight,
With wealthy fauours, plentie ſhall enrich,
The ſtrond that gladded wandring Brute to ſee,
And peace from heauen ſhall harbour in theſe leaues,
That gorgeous beautifies this matchles flower,
Appollos Hellitropian then ſhall ſtoope,
And Venus hyacinth ſhall vaile her top,
Iuno ſhall ſhut her Gilliflowers vp,
And Pallace bay ſhall baſh her brighteſt greene
•
Ceres carnation in conſort with thoſe,
Shall ſtoope and wonder at Dianas roſe.
Henrie.
This Propheſie is myſticall,
But glorious commaunders of Europas loue,
That makes faire England like that wealthy Ile,
Circled with Gihen, and firſt Euphrates,
In royalliſing Henries Albion,
With preſence of your princelie mightines,
Lets march, the tables all are ſpread,
And viands ſuch as Englands wealth affoords,
Are ready ſet to furniſh out the boords,
You ſhall haue welcome mighty potentates,
It reſts to furniſh vp this royall feaſt,
Only your hearts be frolick for the time,
Craues that we taſt of nought but iouyſaunce,
Thus glories England ouer all the weſt.
Exeunt omnes.
Finis Frier Bacon,
made by Robert Greene, Maiſter of Arts.
Omne tulit punctum qui miſcuit vtil
•
dulci.