¶ THE RIGHT EXCELlent and famous Historye, of Promos and Cassandra: Deuided into two Commicall Discourses.
In the fyrste parte is showne,
- the vnsufferable abuse, of a lewde Magistrate:
- The vertuous behauiours of a chaste Ladye:
- The vncontrowled leawdenes of a fauoured Curtisan.
- And the vndeserued estimation of a pernicious Parasyte.
In the second parte is discoursed, the perfect magnanimitye of a noble Kinge, in checking Vice and fauouringe Vertue:
Wherein is showne, the Ruyne and ouerthrowe, of dishonest practises: with the aduauncement of vpright dealing.
The worke of George Whetstones Gent.
Formae nulla fides.
❧ TO HIS WORSHIPFVLL friende, and Kinseman, William Fleetewoode Esquier, Recorder of London.
SYr, (desirous, to acquite your tryed frendships▪ with some token of good will:) of late I perused diuers of my vnperfect workes, fully minded to bestowe on you, the trauell of some of my forepassed time. But (resolued to accompanye, the aduenturous Captaine, Syr Humfrey Gylbert, in his honorable voiadge,) I found my leysure too littel; to correct the errors in my sayd workes. So that (inforced) I lefte them disparsed, amonge my learned freendes, at theyr leasure, to polish, if I faild to returne: spoyling (by this meanes) my studdy of his necessarye furnyture. Amonge other vnregarded papers, I fownde this Discource of Promos and Cassandra: which, for the rarenesse, (& the needeful knowledge) of the necessary matter contained therein (to make the actions appeare more liuely,) I deuided the whole history into two Cōmedies: for that, Decorum vsed, it would not be conuayde in one. The effects of both, are good and bad: vertue intermyxt with vice, vnlawfull desyres (yf it were posible) queancht with chaste denyals: al needeful actions (I thinke) for publike vewe. For by the rewarde of the good, the good are encouraged in wel doinge: and with the scowrge of the lewde, the lewde are feared from euill attempts: mainetayning this my oppinion with Platoes auctority. Nawghtinesse, commes of the corruption of nature, and not by readinge or hearinge the liues of the good or lewde (for such publication is necessarye,) but goodnesse (sayth he) is beawtifyed by either action. And to [Page]these endes: Menander, plautus, and Terence, them selues many yeares since intombed, (by their Commedies) in honour, liue at this daye. The auncient Romanes, heald these showes of suche prise, that they not onely allowde the publike exercise of them, but the graue Senators themselues countenaunced the Actors with their presence: who from these trifles wonne morallytye, as the Bee suckes honny from weedes. But the aduised deuises of auncient Poets, discedited, with the tryfels of yonge, vnaduised, and rashe witted wryters, hath brought this commendable exercise in mislike. For at this daye, the Italian is so lasciuious in his cōmedies, that honest hearers are greeued at his actions: the Frenchman and Spaniarde folowes the Italians humor: the Germaine is too holye: for he presentes on euerye common Stage, what Preachers should pronounce in Pulpets. The Englishman in this quallitie, is most vaine, indiscreete, and out of order: he fyrst groundes his worke, on impossibilities: then in three howers ronnes he throwe the worlde: marryes, gets Children, makes Children men, men to conquer kingdomes, murder Monsters, and bringeth Gods from Heauen, and fetcheth Diuels from Hel. And (that which is worst) their ground is not so vnperfect, as their workinge indiscreete: not waying, so the people laugh, though they laugh them (for theyr follyes) to scorne: Manye tymes (to make mirthe) they make a Clowne companion with a Kinge: in theyr graue Counsels, they allow the aduise of fooles: yea they vse one order of speach for all persons: a grose Indecorum, for a Crowe, wyll yll counterfet the Nightingales sweete voice: euen so, affected speeche doth misbecome a Clowne. For to worke a Cōmedie kindly, graue olde men, should instruct: yonge men, should showe the imperfections of youth: Strumpets should be lasciuious: Boyes vnhappy: and Clownes, should speake disorderlye: entermingling all these actions, in such sorte, as the graue matter, may instruct: and the pleasant, delight: for without this chaunge, the [Page]attention, would be small: and the likinge, lesse.
But leaue I this rehearsall, of the vse, and abuse of Commedies: least that, I checke that in others, which I cannot amend in my selfe. But this I am assured, what actions so euer passeth in this History, either merry, or morneful: graue, or lasciuious: the conclusion showes, the confusion of Vice, and the cherising of Vertue. And sythe the end tends to this good, although the worke (because of euel handlinge) be vnworthy your learned Censure, allowe (I beseeche you) of my good wyll, vntyl leasure serues me, to perfect, some labour of more worthe.
No more, but that, almightye God be your protector, and preserue me from dainger, in this voiadge,
the xxix. of Iuly. 1578.
Your Kinsman to vse, George Whetstone
¶ The Printer to the Reader.
GEntle Reader, this labour of Maister Whetstons, came into my handes, in his fyrst coppy, whose leasure was so lyttle (being then readie to depart his country) that he had no time to worke it a new, nor to geue apt instructions, to prynte so difficult a worke, beyng full of variety, both matter, speache, and verse: for that euery sundry Actor, hath in all these a sundry grace: so that, if I commit an error, without blaming the Auctor, amend my amisse: and if by chauner, thou light of some speache that seemeth dark, consider of it with iudgement, before thou condemne the worke: for in many places he is driuen, both to praise, and blame, with one breath, which in readinge wil seeme hard, & in actiō, appeare plaine. Vsing this courtesy, I hould my paynes wel satisfyed, and Maister Whetston vniniured: and for my owne part, I wil not faile to procure such bookes, as may profit thee with delight.
Thy friend. R. I.
❧The Argument of the whole Historye.
IN the Cyttie of Iulia (sometimes vnder the dominion of Coruinus Kinge of Hungarie, and Boemia) there was a law, that what man so euer commited Adultery, should lose his head, & the woman offender, should weare some disguised apparrel, during her life, to make her infamouslye noted. This seuere lawe, by the fauour of some mercifull magistrate became little regarded, vntill the time of Lord Promos auctority: who conuicting, a yong Gentleman named Andrugio of incontinency, condemned both him, and his minion to the execution of this statute. Andrugio had a very vertuous, and beawtiful Gentlewoman to his Sister, named Cassandra: Cassandra to enlarge her brothers life, submitted an humble petition to the Lord Promos: Promos regarding her good behauiours, and fantasyng her great beawtie, was much delighted with the sweete order of her talke: and doyng good, that euill might come thereof: for a time, he repryu'd her brother: but wicked man, coming his liking vnto vnlawfull lust, he set downe the spoile of her honour, raunsome for her Brothers life: Chaste Cassandra, abhorring both him and his sute, by no perswasion would yeald to this raunsome. But in fine, wonne with the importunitye of hir brother (pleading for life:) vpon these conditions, she agreede to Promos. First that he should pardon her brother, and after marry her. Promos as feareles in promisse, as carelesse in performance, with sollemne vowe, sygned her conditions: but worse then any Infydel, his will satisfyed, he performed neither the one nor the other: for to keepe his aucthoritye, vnspotted with fauour, and to preuent Cassandraes clamors, he commaunded the Gayler secretly , to present Cassandra with her brothers head. The Gayler, with the outcryes of Andrugio, (abhorryng Promos lewdenes, by the prouidence of God, prouided thus for his safety. He presented Cassandra with a Felons head newlie executed, who (being mangled, knew it not from her brothers, by the Gayler, who was set at libertie) was so agreeued [Page]at this trecherye, that at the pointe to kyl her selfe, she spared that stroke, to be auenged of Promos. And deuisyng a way, she concluded, to make her fortunes knowne vnto the kinge. She (executinge this resolution) was so highly fauoured of the King, that forth with he hasted to do Iustice on Promos: whose iudgement was, to marrye Cassandra, to repaire her crased Honour: which donne, for his hainous offence he should lose his head. This mary age solempnised, Cassandra tyed in the greatest bondes of affection to her husband, became an earnest suter for his life: the Kinge (tendringe the generall benefit of the cōmon weale, before her special ease, although he fauoured her much) would not graunt her sute. Andrugio (disguised amonge the company) [...]ing the griefe of his sister, bewrayde his safetye, and craued [...]. The Kinge, to renowne the vertues of Cassandra, pardoned both him, and Promos. The circumstances of this rare Historye, in action lyuelye foloweth. (⸫)
❧ The Historie, of Promos and Cassandra.
Actus. 1.
Scena. 1.
¶ Promos, Mayor, Shirife, Sworde bearer: One with a bunche of keyes: Phallax, Promos man.
YOu Officers which now in Iulio staye,
Know you our leadge, the King of Hungarie:
Sent me Promos, to ioyne with you in sway:
That styll we may to Iustice haue an eye.
And now to show, my rule & power at lardge,
Attentiuelie, his Letters Pattents heare:
Phallax, reade out my Soueraines chardge.
Phal.
As you commaunde, I wyll: giue héedefull eare.
¶ Phallax readeth the Kinges Letters Patents, which must be fayre written in parchment, with some great counterfeat zeale.
PRo.
Loe, here you sée what is our Soueraignes wyl,
Loe, beare his wish, that right, not might, beare swaye:
Loe, heare his care, to weede from good the yll,
To scoorge the wights, good Lawes that disobay.
Such zeale he beares, vnto the Common weale,
(How so he byds, the ignoraunt to saue)
As he commaundes, the lewde doo rigor féele.
Such is his wish, such is my wyll to haue:
And such a Iudge, here Promos vowes to be.
No wylfull wrong, sharpe punishment shall mysse,
The simple thrall, shalbe iudgde with mercie,
Each shall be doombde, euen as his merite is:
Loue shall not staye,
Loue hate and gaine, the causes of Iniustice.
nor hate reuenge procure,Ne yet shall Coyne, corrupt or fester wrong:
I doo protest, whylste that my charge indure,
For friende nor foe, to singe a partiall song.
Thus haue you heard, howe my Commission goes,
He absent, I present our Soueraigne styll:
It aunsweres then, each one his dutie showes,
To mee, as him, what I commaunde and wyll.
Ma.
Worthy Deputie, at thy chardge we ioye,
We doe submitte our selues, to worke thy heast:
Receyue the sword of Iustice to destroy,
The wicked impes, and to defend the rest.
Shri.
Our Citty keyes, take wisht Liftenaunt heare,
We doe committe our safetie to thy head:
Thy wyse foresight, will kéepe vs voyde of feare,
Yet wyll we be assistant still at néede.
Pro.
Both Swoorde and Keies, vnto my Princes vse,
I doo receyue and gladlie take my chardge.
It resteth nowe, for to reforme abuse,
We poynt a tyme, of Councell more at lardge,
To treate of which, a whyle we wyll depart.
Al speake,
To worke your wyll, we yéelde a wylling hart.
Exeunt.
Actus. 1. Scena. 2.
Lamia, a Curtizane,
entreth synging.
The Song.
[Page]AL a flaunt now vaunt it, braue wenche cast away care,
With Layes of Loue chaunt it, for no cost see thou spare:
❧ Sith Nature hath made thee, with bewty most braue,
Sith Fortune doth lade thee, with what thou wouldst haue.
Ere Pleasure doth vade thee, thy selfe set to sale:
All wantons wyll trade thee, and stowpe to thy stale.
All a flaunt, Ʋt Supra.
❧ Yong Ruflers maintaines thee, defends thee and thine,
Olde Dottrels retaines thee, thy Beuties so shine:
Though many disdaynes thee, yet none maye thee tuch:
Thus Enuie refraynes thee, thy countenaunce is such.
All a flaunt, Ʋt Supra:
Shee speaketh.
TRiumphe fayre Lamia now, thy wanton flag aduaunce,
Set foorth thy selfe to brauest show, bost thou of happy chaunce:
Gyrle, accompt thou thy selfe the chéefe, of Lady Pleasures traine,
Thy face is faire, thy forme cōtent, thy Fortunes both doth straine.
Euen as thou wouldst, thy house doth stande, thy furniture is gay,
Thy wéedes are braue, thy face is fine, & who for this doth paye?
Thou thy selfe no, the rushing Youthes, ye bathe in wanton blisse,
Yea, olde and dooting fooles sometimes, doo helpe to paye for this.
Frée cost betwéene them both I haue, all this for my behoue,
I am the sterne, yt gides their thoughts, looke what I like, they loue
Few of them sturre, that I byd staie, if I bid go, they flye:
If I on foe pursue reuenge, Alarme a hundred crye.
The brauest I their harts, their handes, their purses holde at wyl,
Ioynde with the credite of the best, to bowlster mee in yll.
But see wher as my trustie man, doth run, what newes brings he?
Actus. 1. Scena. 3.
Rosko (Lamias man) Lamia.
ROs.
Good people, did none of you, my mistresse Lamia see?
La.
Rosko, what newes, that in such haste you come blowing?
Ros.
Mistresse, you must shut vp your shops, & leaue your occupying.
La.
What so they be, foolish knaue, tell mee true?
Ros.
Oh yll, for thirtie? besydes you.
La.
For mee good fellowe, I praye thee why so?
Ros.
Be patient Mistresse, and you shall knowe,
La.
Go too, saye on:
Ros,
Marrie, right nowe at the Sessions I was,
And thirtie must to Trussum corde go.
Among the which (I weepe to showe) alas:
La.
Why, what's the matter man?
Ros.
O Andrugio,
For louing too kindlie, must loose his heade,
And his sweete hart, must we are the shamefull weedes:
Ordainde for Dames, that fall through fleshly deedes.
La.
Is this offence, in question come againe?
Tell, tell, no more, 'tys tyme this tale were done:
See, sée, howe soone, my triumphe turnes to paine.
Ros.
Mistresse, you promised to be quiet,
For Gods sake, for your owne sake, be so
La.
Alas poore Rosko, our dayntie dyet,
Our brauerie and all we must forgo.
Ros.
I am sorie.
La.
Yea, but out alas, sorrowe wyll not serue:
Rosko,
thou must néedes prouide thée else where,
My gaynes are past, yea, I my selfe might starue:
Saue that, I did prouide for a deare yeare.
Ros.
They rewarde fayre (their haruest in the stacke,)
When winter coms, that byd their seruaunts packe.
Alas Mistresse, if you turne mée off now,
Better then a Roge, none wyll me allowe.
La.
Thou shalt haue a Pasporte,
Ros.
Yea, but after what sorte?
La.
Why, that thou wart my man.
Ros.
O the Iudge, sylde showes the fauour,
To let one théefe, bayle another:
Tush I know, ere long you so wyll slyp awaye,
As you, for your selfe, must séeke some testimony
Of your good lyfe.
La.
Neuer feare: honestly
Lamia nowe meanes to lyue, euen tyll she dye.
Ros.
As iumpe as Apes, in vewe of Nuttes to daunce,
Kytte wyll to kinde, of custome, or by chaunce:
Well, howe so you stande vpon this holy poynt,
For the thing you knowe, you wyll ieobarde a ioynt.
La.
Admitte I woulde, my hazarde were in vaine.
Ros.
Perhappes I know, to turne the same to gaine.
La.
Thou comforts mée, good Rosko, tell mée howe?
Ros.
You wyl be honest, 'twere fyn to hinder you.
La.
I dyd but ieast, good swéete seruaunt tell mée.
Ros.
Swéete seruaunt now, and late, pack syr, god bwy ye.
La.
Tush, to trye thy vnwillingnesse. I dyd but ieast.
Ros.
And I doo but trye, how long you woulde be honest.
La.
I thought thy talke was too sweete to be true.
Ros.
Yea, but meant yon, to byd honestie adue?
La.
No, I dyd so long since, but inforste by neede,
To byd him welcome home againe, I was decréede.
Ros.
Verie good, Mistresse, I know your minde,
And for your ease, this remedie I finde:
Prying abroade, for playe fellowes and such,
For you Mistresse, I hearde of one Phallax,
A man estéemde, of Promos verie much:
Of whose Nature, I was so bolde to axe.
And I smealt, he lou'd lase mutton well.
La.
And what of this?
Ros.
Marry of this, if you the waye can tell
To towle him home, he of you wyll be fayne:
Whose countenaunce, wyll so excuse your faultes.
As none for life, dare of your lyfe complaine.
La.
A good deuice, God graunt vs good successe:
But I praye thee, what trade doth he professe?
Ros.
He is a paltrie petyfogger.
La.
All the better, suspition wyll be the lesse.
Well, go thy wayes, and if thou him espye,
Tell him from mee, that I a cause or two.
Woulde put to him, at leysure wyllinglie.
Ros.
Hir case is so common, that smal pleading wyl serue,
I go (nay ronne) your commaundement to obserue.
The scurge of lawe (and not zeale) keepeth the lewde in awe.
La.
Aye me alas, lesse Phallax helpe, poore wench vndone I am:
My foes nowe in the winde, wyll lye to worke my open shame:
Now enuious eyes will prie abroade, offenders to intrap,
Of force now Lamia, must be chaste, to shun a more mishap.
And wanton girle, how wilt thou shift, for garments fine and gay?
For dainty fare, can crusts cōtent? who shal thy houserent pay?
And that delights thee most of all, thou must thy daliaunce leaue?
And can then the force of lawe, or death, thy minde of loue bereaue?
In good faith, no: the wight that once, hath tast the fruits of loue,
Vntill hir dying daye will long, Sir Chaucers iests to proue.
[...]
[...]
Actus. 1. Sce. 4.
Lamias mayde, Lamia.
MAy.
Forsooth Mistris your thraule stayes for you at home,
La.
Were you borne in a myll, curtole? you prate so hye:
May.
The gentelman, that came the last day with Captain Prie:
La.
What young Hipolito?
May.
Euen he.
La.
Least he be gone, home hye:
And will Dalia pop him in the neather roome,
And kéepe the falling doore close tyll I come
And tell my thraule his fortune wyll not staye?
Exet.
May.
Wyll you ought else?
La.
Pratyng vixen away.
Gallants adue. I venter must Hipolito to sée.
He is both young and welthy yet, the better spoyle for mée.
My hassard for his sake I trewe,
Note
shall make him pray and pay:He: he: shal pranck me in my plumes, and deck mee braue and gay,
Of Curtisie, I praye you yet, if Phallax come this waye,
Report to put a case with him, heare Lamia long dyd stay.
Exet.
Actus. 2.
Scena. 1.
Cassandra, a Mayde.
CAss.
Aye mee, vnhappy wenche that I must liue the day,
To see Andrugio tymeles dye, my brother and my stay.
The onely meane, God wot. that should our house aduaunce,
Who in the hope of his good hap, must dy through wanton chance:
O blynde affectes in loue, whose tormentes none can tell,
Yet wantous wyll hyde fyre, and frost, yea hassard death, nay hell:
To taste thy sowre swéete frutes,
The force of loue.
digested styll with care,Fowle fall thee loue, thy lightning ioyes, hath blasted my welfare
Thou fyerst affection fyrst, within my brothers brest.
[Page]Thou mad'st Polina graūt him (earst) euen what he would request:
Thou mad'st him craue and haue, a proofe of Venus meede,
For which foule act he is adiudgd, eare long to lose his heade.
The lawe is so seuere, in scourging fleshly sinne,
As marriage to worke after mends doth seldome fauor win.
A law first made of zeale, but wrested much amis
Faults should be measured by desart,
A good lawe yll executed,
but all is one in this,The lecher fyerd with lust, is punished no more,
Then he which fel through force of loue, whose mariage salues his sore:
So that poore I dispayre, of my Audrugios lyfe,
O would my dayes myght end with his, for to appease my stryfe.
Actus. 2. Scena. 2.
Andrugio in prison, Cassandra.
AN.
My good Syster Cassandra?
Cass.
Who calleth Cassandra?
An.
Thy wofull brother Andrugio.
Cas.
Andrugio, O dismall day, what gréefes, doe mée assayle?
Condempned wretch to see thee here, fast fettered now in Iayle,
Now haps thy wits were witched so, ye knowing death was meede
Thou wouldest commit (to stay vs both) this vile laciuious deede.
An.
O good Cassandra, leaue to check, and chide me thraule therfore
If late repentaunce, wrought me helpe I would doe so no more.
But out alas, I wretch, too late, doe sorrowe my amys.
Vnles Lord Promos graunt me grace: in vayne is hady wist,
Wherfore sweete sister, whylst in hope, my dāpned lyfe yet were,
Assaulte his hart, in my behalfe, with battering tyre of teares.
If thou by sute doest saue my lyfe, it both our ioyes will be,
If not it may suffice thou soughst, to set thy brother free:
Wherefore speede to proroge my dayes, to morrowe else I dye.
Cas.
I wyll not fayle to pleade and praye, to purchase the mercye,
Farewell a whyle, God graunte mee well to speede.
An.
Syster adew, tyl thy returne, I lyue, twene, hope, and breede.
Cas.
Oh happy tyme, see where Lord Promos coms?
Now tongue addresse thy selfe, my minde to wray.
And yet least haste worke waste, I hold it best,
In couert, for some aduauntage, to stay.
Actus. 2. Scena. 3.
¶ Promos with the Shriefe and their Officers.
PRo.
Tis strange to thinke, what swarms of vnthrifts liue,
Within this towne, by rapine spoyle and theft:
That were it not, that Iustice ofte them gréeue,
The iust mans goods, by Ruflers should be reft.
At this our Syse, are thirty iudgde to dye,
Whose falles I sée, their fellowes smally feare:
So that the way, is by seuerity
Such wicked weedes, euen by the rootes to teare:
Wherefore Shriefe, execute with spéedy pace,
The dampned wightes, to cutte of hope of Grace.
Shriefe,
It shalbe done.
Cas.
Cassandra to hir selfe,
O cruell words they make my hart to bleede,
Now, now, I must, this dome seeke to reuoke,
Least grace come short, when starued is the steede:
She kneeling speakes to Promos.
Most mighty Lord, & worthy Iudge, thy iudgemēt sharpe abate,
Vaile thou thine eares, to heare the plaint, that wretched I relate,
Behold the wofull Syster here, of poore Andrugio,
Whom though that lawe awardeth death, yet mercy do him show:
Way his yong yeares, the force of loue, which forced his amis,
Way, way, that Mariage, works amends, for what committed is,
He hath defilde no nuptial bed, nor forced rape hath mou'd,
He fel through loue, who neuer ment, but wiue ye wight he lou'd.
And wātons sure, to keepe in awe, these statutes first were made,
Or none but lust full leachers, should, with rygrous law be payd.
And yet to adde intent thereto, is farre from my pretence,
I sue with teares, to wyn him grace, that sorrows his offence.
Wherefore herein, renowned Lorde, Iustice with pitie payse:
Which two in equal ballance waide, to heauē your fame will raise.
Pro.
Cassandra, leaue of thy bootlesse sute, by law he hath bene tride,
Lawe founde his faulte, Lawe iudgde him death:
Cas.
Yet this maye be replide,
That law a mischiefe oft permits, to keepe due forme of lawe,
That lawe small faultes, with greatest doomes, to keepe men styl in axe:
Yet Kings, or such as execute, regall authoritie:
If mends be made, may ouer rule, the force of lawe with mercie.
Here is no wylful murder wrought, which axeth blood againe,
Andrugios faulte may valued be, Mariage wipes out his stayne.
Pro.
Faire Dame, I see ye naturall zeale, thou bearest to Andrugio,
And for thy sake (not his desart) this fauour wyll I showe:
I wyll repriue him yet a whyle, and on the matter pawse,
To morrowe you shall lycence haue, a fresh to pleade his cause:
Shriefe execute my chardge, but staye Andrugio,
Vntill that you in this behalfe, more of my pleasure knowe.
Shri.
I wyll performe your wyll:
Cas.
O most worthy Magistrate, my selfe thy thrall I finde.
Euen for this lytle lightning hope, which at thy handes I finde.
Now wyl I go and comfort him, which hangs twixt death & life.
Exit.
Pro.
Happie is the man, that inioyes the loue of such a wife,
I do protest, hir modest wordes, hath wrought in me a maze.
Though she be farre, she is not deackt, with garish shewes for gaze,
Hir bewtie lures, hir lookes cut off, fond sutes with chast disdain.
O God I feele a sodaine change, that doth my fréedome chayne.
What didst thou say? fie Promos fie: of hir auoide the thought,
And so I will, my other cares wyll cure what loue hath wrought,
Come awaye.
Exeunt.
Actus. 2. Scena. 4.
Phallax, Promos offycer, Gripax, and Rapax Promoters.
PHal.
My trusty friendes about your businesse straight,
With symple showes, your subtile meanings bayte:
[Page]Promote all faults, vp into my office,
Then turne me lose, the offenders to fleece.
Gri.
Tush, to finde lawe breakers let me alone,
I haue eyes, will looke into a Mylstone.
Phal.
God a mercy Gripax.
Ra.
And I am so subtyll sighted I trowe,
As I the very thoughts of men doo know:
Gri.
I fayth Rapax, what thought thy wife when she,
To lye with the preest, by night stole from thee?
Ra.
Marry she knew, you and I were at square,
And least we fell to blowes, she did prepare.
To arme my head, to match thy horned browe.
Gri.
Goe and a knaue with thée.
Ra.
I stay for you:
Phal.
No harme is done, here is but blow for blew,
Byrds of a fether, best flye together,
Then like partners, about your market goe,
Marrowes adew, God sent you fayre wether.
Gri.
Fare you well, for vs take no care,
With vs this brode spéeche sildome breedeth square.
Exeunt.
Phal.
Marry syr, welfare an office, what some euer it be,
The very countenaunce, is great, though slender be the sée,
I thanke my good Lord Promos now, I am an officer made,
In sooth more by hap then desart, in secret be it sayde:
No force for that, each shyft for one, for Phallax will doo so,
Well fare a head can take his tyme nay watch for time I trow.
I smyle to thinke of my fell▪ wes; how some braue it, some waight,
And thinke reward, there seruice iust, with offred shifts wyl bayght
When they (poore soules) in troth do falle a myle vpon account,
For flattery and feruent plesing, are meanes to make men mount:
I speake on proofe, Lord Promos, I haue pleased many a day,
Yet am I neither learned, true, nor honest any way.
What skyls for that, by wit or wyle, I haue an office got,
By force wherof euery lycence, warrant, pattent, pasport,
Leace, fyne, fee, et cetera, pas and repas, through Phallax hands,
Disorored persons brybe me wel, to escape from Iustice bands,
[Page]And welthy churles for to promote, I now haue set a worke,
Such hungry lads, as soone will smell, where statute breakers lurk,
And if they come, within our Grype, we meane to stripe them so,
As (if they scape from open shame) their bagges with vs shall goe.
And trust me this, we officers, of this mylde mould are wrought,
Agrée with vs, and sure your shame by vs shal not be sought:
But soft a whyle, I see my Lord what makes him lowre so▪
I wyll intrude into his sight, perhaps his greefe to know.
Actus. 2. Scena. 4.
Phallax. Promos.
PRo.
Well mette Phallax. I long haue wysht to showe.
A cause to thee which none but I yet know.
Phal.
Say on my Lord, a happy man weare I:
If any way, your wish I could supply:
Pro.
Faine would I speake, but oh, a chylling feare,
(The case is such) makes mee from speech forbeare.
Phal.
These wordes my Lord (whome euer haue bene iust)
Now makes, me thinke, that you my truth mistrust.
But cease suspect, my wyll with yours shall gree,
What so (or against whome) your dealing be.
Pro.
Against a wight of small account it is,
And yet I feare, I shall my purpose mys:
Phal.
Feare not my Lorde, the olde Prouerbe doth saye.
Faynt harts doth steale fayre Ladyes seld away.
Pro.
Fayre Ladyes O, no Lady is my loue,
And yet the sure, as coye as they wyl proue.
Phal.
I thought as much, loue dyd torment you so.
But what is she that dare saye Promos noe?
Pro.
Doe what one can. fyre wyll breake forth I sée,
My words vnwares, hath showen what gréeueth mee:
My wound is such, as loue must be my leache.
Which cure wyll brynging Grauity in spéeche,
[Page]For what maye be, a folly of more note,
Then for to see, a man gray beard to dote.
Phal.
No my Lorde, Amor omnia vincit.
And Ouid sayth, Forma numen habet.
And for to proue, loues seruice séemes the wise,
Set Sallomon and Sampson, before your eyes:
For wyt, and strength, who wonne the cheefest prise.
And both lyu'd by the lawes loue did deuise,
Which proues in loue, a certaine godhed lyes.
And Goddes rule yearely, by wisdome from the skyes:
Whose wyls (thinke I) are wrought best by the wise.
In déede diuine, I thinke loues working is,
From reasons vse, in that my sences swarue,
In pleasure paine, in payne I fynde a blysse,
On woe I féede, in sight of foode I stearue:
These strange effects, by loue are lodgd in mée,
My thoughts are bound, yet I my selfe am free.
Phal.
Well my Good Lord, I axe (with pardon sought)
Who she may be, that hath your thrauldome wrought?
Pro.
The example is such, as I sygh to showe,
Syster she is, to dampned Andrugio.
Phal.
All the better for you the game doth goe.
The prouerbe sayth, that kyt wyll vnto kinde,
If it be true this comfort, then I fynde:
Cassandras flesh is as her brothers, frayle,
Then wyll shée stoupe, (in chéefe) when Lords assayle.
Pro.
The contrary (through feare) doth worke my payne,
For in her face, such modesty doth raigne,
As cuttes of louing sutes, with chaste disdayne.
Phal.
What loue wyll not, necessity shall gayne,
Her brothers lyfe, will make her glad and fayne.
Pro.
What is it best, Andrugio frée to set,
Ere I am sure, his systers loue to gette?
Phal.
My louyng Lord, your seruaunt meanes not so.
But if you will, elsewhere in secret goe:
To worke your wyll assist I hope to showe.
Pro.
With ryght good wyll, for such my sicknes is.
As I shall dye, if her good will I mys.
Exeunt.
Actus. 2. Scena. 5.
The Hangman, with a greate many ropes abought his necke.
THe wynd is yl, blowes no mans gaine, for cold I néede not care,
Here is nyne and twenty sutes of apparell for my share:
And some berlady very good, for so standeth the case,
As neyther gentelman, nor other Lord, Promos sheweth Grace.
But I maruell much poore slaues, that they are hanged so soone,
They were wont, to staye a day or two, now scarce an after noone:
All the better for the hangman, I pardons dreaded sore,
Would cutters saue, whose clothes are good, I neuer feard the poore:
Let mée see, I must be dapper in this my facultie,
Heare are new ropes, how are my knots, I saith fyr slippery.
At fast or loose, with my Giptian, I meane to haue a cast:
Tenne to one I read his fortune by the Marymas fast,
Serg.
A way, what a stur is this, to sée men goe to hanging?
Han.
Hark▪ god bwy ye, I must begone, the prisners are a cōming.
Exit.
Actus. 2. Scena. 6.
Sixe prisoners bounde with cordes, Two Hacksters, one VVoman, one lyke a Giptian, the rest poore Roges, a Preacher, with other Offycers.
They sing.
WIth harte and voyce to thee O Lorde,
At latter gaspe, for grace we crie:
Vnto our sutes, good God accorde,
VVhich thus appeale, to thy mercie.
Forsake vs not, in this distresse,
Which vnto thee, our sinnes confesse:
Forsake vs not, in this distresse,
VVhich vnto thee, our sinnes confesse.
HAc. (First Hackster.)
Al sorts of men beware by vs, whom presēt death assaults,
Looke in your conscience what you find, & sorow for your faults:
Example take by our fresh harmes, see here the fruites of pride,
I for my part deserued death, long ere my theft was spide.
O careles youth, lead, lead awrie, with euerie pleasing toy,
Note well my words, they are of woorth, ye cause though my annoy.
Shun to be pranckt, in peacocks plumes, for gaze which only are.
Hate, hate, the dyce, euen as the diuell, of wanton Dames beware:
I was intist by lawles men, on theeuish spoyles to feede.
And nusled once in wicked deedes, I feard not to offende,
From had, to worse, and worst I fell, I would at leysure mende.
But oh presuming ouer much, styll to escape in hope,
My faultes were found, and I adiudgde, to totter in a rope:
To which I go with these my mates, likewise for breach of lawes.
For murder some, for theeuerie some, and some for litle cause.
Second. nackster.
¶ Bewared are frende of quarelling, thirst spoile of no mās breaths
Blood, areth blood, I sheeding blood, vntimelie catch: y death.
VVo. (A woman.)
Maides & women, shun pride, & sloth, the rootes of euery vice,
My death ere lōg, wil shew their ends, God graūt it make you wise.
Ca. (A scoffing catch pole.)
How now Giptian? All a mort knaue, for want of company?
Be crustie man, ye Hangman straight, wil reade Fortunes with thée.
Prea. (The preacher.)
With this thy scoffing speach, good friend offend him not,
His faults are scorged, thine scape (perhaps) that do deserue his lot?
Rog. (A poors Roge.)
Iesus saue me, I am cast, for a purse with three halfepence.
Of. (A churlish officer.)
Dispatch prating knaue, and he hangd, yt we were iogging hēce.
¶ They leysurablie depart synging. The Preacher whispering some one or other of the Prisoners styll in the care.
They sing.
❧ Our secrete thoughts, thou Christ dost knowe,
VVhome the worlde, doth hate in thrall.
Yet hope we that, thou wilt not soe,
On whome alone, we thus do call.
Forsake vs not, in this distresse,
VVhich vnto thee, our sinnes confesse,
Forsake vs not, &c.
Actus. 3.
Scena. 1.
Promos, alone.
PRo.
Do what I can, no reason cooles desire,
The more I striue, my fonde affectes to fame:
The hotter (oh) I feele, a burning fire
Within my breast, vaine thoughts to forge and frame.
O straying effectes, of blinde affected Loue,
From wisdomes pathes, which doth astraye our wittes:
Which makes vs haunt, that which our harmes doth moue,
A sicknesse lyke, the Feuer Etticke fittes:
Which shakes with colde, when we do burne like fire.
Euen so in Loue, we freese, through chilling feare,
When as our hartes, doth frye with hote desire:
What saide I? lyke to Etticke fittes, nothing neare:
In sowrest Loue, some sweete is euer suckt.
The Louer findeth peace, in wrangling strife,
So that if paine, were from his pleasure pluckt,
There were no Heauen, like to the Louers life.
But why stande I to pleade, their ioye or woe?
And rest vnsure of hir I wish to haue.
I knowe not if Cassandra loue, or no?
But yet admytte, she graunt not what I craue,
If I benyce, to hir brother lyfe to giue:
[Page]Hir brothers life, too much wyll make hir yeelde,
Might masters right.
A promise then, to let hir brother lyue:Hath force inough, to make hir flie the fielde.
Thus though sute fayle, necessitie shall wyn,
Of Lordlie rule, the conquering power is such:
But (oh sweete sight) see where she enters in,
Both hope and dreade, at once my harte doth tuch.
Actus. 3. Scena. 2.
Cassandra, Promos.
CAss.
Cassandra Speakes to her selfe.
I see two thralles, sweete seemes a lytle ioye,
For fancies free, Andrugios breast hath scope:
But least detract, doth rayse a new annoye,
I nowe will seeke to turne, to happe his hope.
See, as I wisht, Lord Promos is in place,
Nowe in my suts, God graunt I maye finde grace.
Shee kneeling speaks to Promos.
¶ Renowned Lorde, whylst life in me doth last,
In homage bondes, I binde my selfe to thee:
And though I did thy goodnesse latelie taste,
Yet once againe, on knees I mercie seeke:
In his behalfe, that hanges twene death and life;
Who styll is preast, if you the mendes do leeke:
His lawles loue, to make his lawfull wife.
Pro.
Faire Dame, I wel haue wayd thy sute, & wish to do thée good,
But all in vaine, al things conclude, to haue thy brothers blood:
The stricknes of the lawe condempnes, an ignoraunt abuse,
Then wylfull faultes are hardlie helpt, or cloked with excuse:
And what maye be more wylfull, then a Maide to violate.
Cas.
The force was smal, when with hir wyl, he wretch ye conquest gate.
Pro.
Lawe euer at the worst, doth conster euyl intent.
Cas.
And lawe euen with the worst, awardes them punishment:
And sith that rigorous lawe adiudgd him to dye,
Your glorie will be much the more, in showing him mercie.
[Page]The world wil think, how ye you do, but graūt him grace on cause,
And where cause is, there mercy should abate the force of lawes.
Pro.
Cassandra in thy brothers halfe, thou hast sayde what may be
And for thy sake, it is, if I doe set Andrugio frée:
Short tale to make, thy beauty hath, surprysed mee with loue,
That maugre wit, I turne my thoughts, as blynd affections moue.
And quite subdude by Cupids might, néede makes mée sue for grace
To thée Cassandra, which doest holde, my fréedome in a lace.
Yéelde to my will, and then commaund, euen what thou wilt of mée,
Thy brothers life, and all that else, may with thy liking grée.
Cas.
Cassādra to hir self.
And may it be, a Iudge himself, the selfe same fault should vse:
For which he domes, an others death, O crime without excuse.
Renowned Lorde, you vse this speach (I hope) your thrall to trye,
If otherwise, my brothers life, so deare I will not bye.
Pro.
Faire Dame my outward looks, my inward thoughts bewray,
If you mistrust, to search my harte, would God you had a kaye.
Cas.
If that you loue (as so you saye) the force of loue you know,
Which fealt, in conscience you should, my brother fauour show.
Pro.
In doubtfull warre, one prisoner still, doth set another frée.
Cas.
VVhat so warre séekes, loue vnto warre, contrary is, you sée.
Hate fostreth warre, loue cannot hate, then maye it couet force.
Pro.
The Louer ofte sues to his foe, and findeth no remorse:
Then if he hap to haue a helpe, to wyn his frowarde foe,
Too kinde a foole, I will him holde, that lets such vantage goe.
Cas.
Well, to be short, my selfe wyll dye, ere I my honor staine,
You know my minde, leaue off to tempt, your offers are in vaine.
Pro.
Bethink your self, at price inough I purchase sweet your loue,
Andrugios life suffis'd alone, your straungenes to remoue:
The which I graunt, with any wealth that else you wyll require,
Who buyeth loue at such a rate, payes well for his desire.
Cas.
No Promos, no, honor neuer at value maye be solde,
Honor farre dearer is then life, which passeth price of golde:
Pro.
To bnie this Iuell at the full, my wife I may thée make:
Cas.
For vnsure hope, that péereles pearle, I neuer will forsake:
Pro.
These sutes seemes strange at first I see, wher modesty beares sway,
To himself.
I therfore wil set down my wyll, & for hir answer staye.
[Page]Fayre Cassandra, the iuell of my ioye,
Howe so in showe, my tale, seemes straunge to thee:
The same well waide, thou need'st not be so coye,
Yet for to giue thee respite to agree.
I wyll two daies hope styll of thy consent,
VVhich if thou graunt (to cleare my clowdes of care)
Cloth'd like a Page (suspect for to preuent.)
Vnto my Court, some night, sweet wenche repaire.
Tyl then adue, thou these my words, in works perform'd shalt find.
Cas.
Farewel my Lord, but in this sute, you bootles wast your wind:
Cassandra, O most vnhappy, subiect to euerie woe,
What tōgue can tel, what thought cōceiue, what pen thy griefe can show?
Whom to scurge, Nature, heauē & earth, do heapes of thral ordain,
Whose words in waste, whose works are lost, whose wishes are in vain.
That which to others cōfort yéelds, doth cause my heuy chéer,
I meane my beautie bréedes my bale, which many hold so deere.
I woulde to God that kinde else where, bestowed had this blase,
My vertues then had wrought regard, my shape now giues ye gase:
This forme so Promos fiers with Loue, as wisdom can not quench,
His hote desire, tyll he lust, in Venus seas hath drencht.
At these wordes Ganio must be readie to speake.
Actus 3. Scena. 3.
Ganio, And rugios boye. Cassandra.
GA.
Mistres Cassandra, my Master lōgs to heare of your good spéed,
Cas.
Poore Ganio his death-alas, fierce Fortune hath decréed:
Ga.
His death: God forbyd, all his hope should turne to such successe,
For Gods sake, go and comfort him, I sorrowe his distresse.
Cas.
I néedes must go, although with heauy chéere.
Ga.
Sir, your syster Cassandra is here.
Exit.
Actus. 3. Scena. 4.
Andrugio out of prison. Cassandra on the stage.
AN.
My Cassandra what newes, good sister showe?
Cas.
All thinges conclude thy death Andrugio:
Prepare thy selfe, to hope it ware in vaine.
An.
My death, alas what raysed this new disdayne?
Cas.
Not Iustice zeale, in wicked Promos sure:
An.
Swéete, show the cause, I must this dome indure?
Cas.
If thou dost liue I must my honor lose,
Thy raunsome is, to Promos fleshly wyll
That I do yelde: then which I rather chose,
With torments sharpe, my selfe he first should kyll:
Thus am I bent, thou séest thy death at hand,
O would my life, would satisfie his yre,
Cassandra then, would cancell soone thy band.
An.
And may it be a Iudge of his account,
Can spot his minde, with lawles loue or lust?
But more, may he doome any fault with death?
When in such faute, he findes himselfe iniust.
Syster, that wise men loue we often sée,
And where loue rules, gainst thornes doth reason spurne.
But who so loues, if he reiected be,
His passing loue, to péeuish hate will turne.
Deare sister then, note how my fortune stands,
That Promos loue, the like is oft in vse:
And sith he craue, this kindnesse, at your hands,
Thinke this, if you his pleasure do refuse.
I in his rage (poore wretch) shall sing Peccaui.
Here are two euyls, the best harde to digest,
But where as things are driuen vnto necessity,
There are we byd, of both euyls choose the least:
Cas.
And of these euils, the least, I hold is death,
To shun whose dart, we can no meane deuise,
Yet honor lyues, when death tath done his worst,
Thus fame then lyfe is of farre more emprise:
An.
Nay Cassandra, if thou thy selfe submyt,
To saue my life, to Promos fleashly wyll,
Iustice wyll say, thou dost no cryme commit:
For in forst faultes is no intent of yll.
Cass.
How so th'intent, is construed in offence,
The Prouerbe saies that tenne good turnes lye dead,
And one yll deede, tenne tymes beyonde pretence,
By enuious tounges, report abrode doth spread:
Andrugio so, my fame, shall vallewed bee,
Dispite wyll blase my crime, but not the cause:
And thus although I fayne would set thée free,
Poore wench I feare, the grype of slaunders pawes.
An.
Nay sweete sister more slaunder would insawe,
Your spotles lyfe, to reaue your brothers breath:
When you haue powre, for to enlarge the same,
Once in your handes, doth lye my lyfe, and death,
Way that I am, the selfe same flesh you are,
Thinke I once gone, our house will goe to wrack:
Knowe forced faultes, for slaunder neede not care:
Looke you for blame, if I quaile through your lack.
Consider well, my great extremitie,
If other wise, this doome I could reuoke:
I would not spare, for any ieberdye:
To free thee wench, from this same heauy yoke.
But ah. I see, else, no way saues my life.
And yet his hope, may further thy consent,
He sayde, he maye percase make thee his wife,
And t'is likelie, he can not be content
With one nights ioye: if loue he after seekes,
And I dischargd, if thou aloofe then be,
Before be lose thy selfe, that so he leekes.
No dought but he, to marryage, wyll agree.
Cas.
And shall I sticke to stoupe, to Promos wyll,
Since my brother inioyeth lyfe thereby?
No, although it doth my credit kyll,
Ere that he should, my selfe would chuse to dye.
My Andrugio, take comfort in distresse,
Cassandra is wonne, thy faunsome great to paye,
Such care she hath, thy thraldome to releace:
As she consentes, her honor for to slay.
Farewell, I must, my virgins weedes forsake:
And lyke a page, to Promos lewde repayre.
Exit.
An.
My good sister to God I thee betake,
To whome I pray, that comforte change thy care.
Actus. 3. Scena. 5.
Phallax alone.
PHal.
Tis more then straunge to see Lord Promos plight,
He fryskes abought, as byrdes ware in his breech.
Euen now he seemes (through hope) to taste delight,
And straight (through feare) where he clawes it doth not ytch.
He museth now, strayght wayes the man doth sing.
(A sight in sooth, vnseemely for his age:)
He longing lookes, when any newes shal bring,
To speake with him, without there waytes a page,
O worthy wit (fyt for a Iudges head)
Vnto a man to chaunge a shiftles mayde,
Wyncke not on me, twas his, and not my deede:
His, nay, his rule, this Metamorphos made,
But Holla tongue, no more of this I pray,
Non bonus est, ludere cum sanctis.
The quietest, and the thryftiest course they say,
Is, not to checke, but prayse great mens amys,
I finde it true, for soothing Promos vaine:
None lyke my selfe, is lykte in his conceyte,
[Page]While fauour last, then good, I fist for gaine:
(For Grace wyll not byte alwayes at my bayte)
And as I wish, at hande, good Fortune, see:
Here coms Phallax, and Gripax, but what's this,
As good, as fayre handsell, God graunt it bee:
The knaues bring a Woman, Coram nobis.
Actus. 3. Scena. 6.
¶ Phallax, Gripax. Rapax, a Bedell, and one with a browne Byll, bring in Lamia, and Rosko hir man.
LA.
Teare not my clothes my friends, they cost more thē you are a ware,
Be.
Tush, soon you shal haue a blew gown. for these take you no care
Ro.
If she tooke thy offer poore knaue, thy wife would starue we cold:
Gri.
Well syr, whipping shall kéepe you warme.
Phal.
What meanes these knaues to scolde.
Ra.
Maister Phallax, we finde you in good time,
A VVoman here, we haue brought afore you:
One to be chargde with many a wanton crime.
Which tryall will, with proofe inough finde true:
A knaue of hirs, we haue stayed likewise,
Both to be vs'd, as you shall vs aduise.
Phal.
What call you hir name?
Ra.
Lamia.
Phal.
Faire Dame, hereto what do you saye?
La.
Worshipfull Sir, my selfe I happy reake,
VVith patience that my aunswer you will heare:
These naughtie men, these wordes on mallice speake,
And for this cause, yll wyll to me they beare.
I scornde to kéepe, their mindes with money playe,
I meane to kéepe, my life from open shame,
Yea, if I lyu'd, as lewdlie as they saye:
But I that knewe, my selfe vnworthy shame:
Shrunk not, to come vnto my triall nowe.
My tale is tolde, conceyue as lyketh you.
Phal.
My friends, what proofe haue you against this dame?
Speake on sure ground, least that you reape the shame:
The wrong is great, and craues great recompence.
To touch her honest name, without offence.
Gri.
All Iulio Syr doth ryng of her lewd lyfe:
Byl.
In deede she is knowne for an ydle huswife.
Ros.
He lyes, she is occupied day and night.
Phal.
To sweare against her is there any wight?
Ra.
No, not present, but if you do detayne her.
There wilbe found by oth, some that wyll stayne her,
Phal.
I see she is then on suspition stayde:
Whose fawltes to search, vpon my charge is layde,
From charge of her I therfore will set you frée,
My selfe will search her faultes if any be,
A Gods name you may depart.
2 or. 3. speake,
God bwy Syr.
Gri.
In such shares as this, henceforth I will begin,
For all is his, in his clawes, that commeth in.
Exeunt.
Phal.
Fayre Lamia, since that we are alone,
I plainely wyll discourse to you my minde,
I thinke you not to be so chast a one,
As that your lyfe, this fauor ought to fynde:
No force, for that, since that you scot free goe,
Vnpunished, whose life is iudged yll:
Yet thinke (through loue) this grace the Iudge doth show,
And loue with loue ought to be answered styll.
La.
Indeede I graunt (although I could reproue,
Their lewde Complayntes, with goodnesse of my lyfe)
Your curtesy, your detter doth me proue,
In that you tooke▪ my honest fame in stryfe,)
My aunswere for discharge of their report:
For which good turne, I at your pleasure rest,
To worke amends, in any honest sort:
Phal.
Away with honesty your answeare then in sooth,
Fyts me as iumpe as a pudding a Friars mouth,
Ros.
He is a craftie childe, dally, but do not.
La.
Tush, I warrant thee, I am not so whot,
Your wordes are too harde Sir, for me to conster.
Phal.
Then to be short, your rare bewtie my hart hath wounded so,
As (saue your loue, become my leach) I sure shall die with woe.
La.
I see no signe of death, in your face to appeare,
Tis but some vsuall qualme you haue, pitifull Dames to fears.
Phal.
Faire Lamia, trust me I faine not, betimes bestow som grace.
La.
Well, I admit it so, onelie to argue in your case.
I am maried, so that to set your loue on me were vaine:
Phal.
It suffiseth me, that I may your secrete friend remaine.
Ros.
A holie Hoode, makes not a Frier deuoute,
He will playe at small game, or he sitte out.
La.
Though for pleasure, or to proue me, these profers you do moue,
You are to wise, to hassarde life, vpon my yeelding loue:
The man is painde with present death, that vseth wanton pleasure.
Phal.
To scape such paine, wise men, these ioyes, without suspect cā measure,
Furthermore, I haue ben (my Girle) a Lawier to too lōg:
If at a pinche, I cannot wrest the Law from right to wrong.
La.
If lawe you do professe. I gladlie craue,
In a cause or two, your aduise to haue.
Phal.
To resolue you, you shall commaunde my skyll,
Wherfore like friendes, lets common in good wyll,
La.
You are a merie man, but leaue to ieast,
To morrowe night, if you will be my Geast:
At my poore house, you shall my causes knowe,
For good cause, which I meane not here to showe.
Phal.
Willinglie, and for that, haste calles me hence,
My sute tyll then, shall remaine in suspence:
Farewell Clyent, to morrow looke for me:
Exit.
La.
Your good welcome Sir, your best cheere will be.
Ros.
I tolde you earst, the nature of Phallax,
Money, or faire Women, workes him as waxe:
And yet I must commend your sober cheere,
You tolde your tale, as if a Saint you were.
La.
Well (in seeréete, be it sayde) how so I séemd diuine,
I feared once, a blew gowne, would haue bene my shrine.
But nowe that paine is flead, and pleasure kéepes his holde,
I knowe that Phallax will, my Fame henceforth vpholde:
To entertaine which Geast, I will some dayntie chéere prepare,
Yet ere I go, in pleasant Song, I meane to purge my care.
The Song.
❧ A due poore care, adue,
Go, cloye some helples wretche:
My life, to make me rue,
Thy forces do not stretche.
Thy harbor, is the harte,
Whom wrong, hath wrapt, in woe:
But wrong, doth take my parte,
VVith cloke of right in shoe.
My faultes, inquirie scape,
At them the Iudges winke:
Those for my fall that gape,
To showe my lewdnesse shrinke.
Then silly care go packe,
Thou art no Geast for mee:
I haue, and haue, no lacke,
And lacke, is shrowde for thee.
Exeunt.
Actus. 3. Scena. 7.
Cassandra, apparelled like a Page.
CAs.
Vnhappy wretche, I blush my selfe to sée,
Apparelled thus monstrous to my kinde:
But oh, my weedes, wyll with my fault agrée,
When I haue pleasde, lewde Promos fleshlie minde.
[Page]What shall I doo, go proffer what he sought?
Or on more sute, shall I giue my consent?
The best is sure, since this must néedes be wrought:
I go, and showe, neede makes me to his bent.
My fluddes of teares, from true intent which floe.
Maye quenche his lust, or ope his musled eyen,
To sée that I deserue to be his wife:
Though now constrainde to be his Concubine.
But so, or no, I must the vent er giue,
No daunger feares the wight, prickt foorth by néede:
And thus lyke one more glad to dye, then lyue,
I forewarde set, God graunt me well to speede.
Exit.
Actus 4.
Scena. 1.
Dalia, Lamias Maide, going to market.
DA.
With my Mistresse, the worlde is chaunged well,
She fearde of late, of whipping cheere to smell:
And nowe againe, both gallant, fresh and gaye.
Who in Iulio flauntes it out, lyke Lamia?
A luckie friende (yea, one that beareth swaye)
Is nowe become, a proppe, of such a staye▪
To hir good name, as who is he dare saye:
That Lamia doeth offende, nowe any waye?
This, hir good friende, wyll be hir Geast this night,
And that he maye in his welcome delyght.
To market I. in haste, am sent to buye,
The best cheare, that, I fasten on my eye.
Exit.
Actus. 4. Scena. 2.
Promos alone.
PRo.
By proofe I finde, no reason cooles desire,
Cassandraes sute, suffised to remoue
My lewde request, but contrarie, the fire,
Hir teares inflam'd, of lust, and filthy Loue.
And hauing thus, the conquest in my handes,
No prayer seru'de to worke restraint in mee:
But needes I woulde vntye the precious bandes,
Of this fayre Dames spotles Virginitie.
The spoyle was sweete, and wonne euen as I woulde,
And yet vngainde, tyll I had giuen my trothe,
To marie hir, and that hir brother shoulde
Be free from death, all which I bounde with oathe:
It resteth nowe (vnlesse I wrong hir much)
I keepe my vowe: and shall Andrugio lyue?
Such grace woulde mee, with vnindifferencie tuch.
To pardon him, that dyd commit a Rape,
To set him free, I to Cassandra sware:
But no man else, is priuie to the same,
And rage of Loue, for thousande oathes nyll spare,
More then are kept, when gotten is the game.
Well, what I sayde, then Louer like I sayde,
Nowe reason sayes, vnto thy credite looke:
And hauing well, the circumstaunces wayde,
I finde I must, vnsweare the oathe I tooke:
But double wrong, I so should do Cassandra.
No force for that, my might, commaundeth right,
Hir preuie manne, hir open cryes will staye:
Or if not so, my frowning will hir fright,
And thus shall rule, conceale my filthy deede.
Nowe foorthwith, I wyll to the Gayler sende,
That secretelie Andrugio he behead,
Whose head he shall, with these same wordes commend.
[...]
[...]
Actus. 4. Scena. 5.
Gayler, Andrugio.
GAy.
Andrugio, as you loue our liues, forthwith post you away.
For Gods sake to no lyuing friend, your safety yet bewraye:
The prouerbe sayth, two may kéepe counsell if that one be gone.
An.
Assure thy selfe, most faithful friend, I wylbe knowne to none:
To none alas, I sée my scape yéeldes mee but small reléefe,
Cassandra, and Polina wyll destroye themselues, with greefe:
Through thought yt I am dead: they dead, to liue what helpeth me?
Gay.
Leaue of these plaints of smal auaile, thank God yt you are free,
For God it was, within my mind, that did your safety moue,
And that same God, no doubt wyl worke for your and their behoue:
An.
Most faithful friend, I hope that God, wyl worke as you do say,
And therfore, to some place vnknowne, I wyl my selfe conuaye.
Gayler, fare wel: for thy good deede, I must remayne thy debter,
In meane whyle yet receyue this gyft, tyll fortune sends a better:
Gay.
God bwy syr, but kepe your mony, your need you do not know.
An.
I pas not now for fortuns threats, yea though hir force she show
And therefore styck not to receyue this smale reward in part.
Gay.
I wyll not sure, such proffers leaue, tys time you doe depart.
An.
Since so thou wilt, I wylbe gone adue tyl fortune smile.
Exit.
Gay.
Syr, fare you wel, I wyl not fayle to pray for you the while.
Well. I am glad, that I haue sent him gone,
For by my fayth, I lyu'd in perlous feare:
And yet God wot, to see his bytter mone,
When he should dye, would force a man forbeare,
From harming him, if pitty might beare sway:
But see how God hath wrought for his safety?
A dead mans head, that suffered th'other day,
Makes him thou'ht dead, through out the citie.
Such a iust, good and righted is God is he:
Although awhyle he let the wicked raygne,
Yet he releeues the wretch in misery,
[Page]And in his pryde, he throwes the tyraunt downe.
I vse these wordes, vpon this onely thought,
That Promos long his rod can not escape:
Who hath in thought, a wylfull murder wrought,
Who hath in act performd a wicked rape,
Gods wyll be done, who well Andrugio speede,
Once well I hope, to heare of his good lucke,
For God thou knowest my conscience dyd this déede,
And no desire of any worldly muck,
Exit.
Actus. 4. Scena. 6.
Dalia from Market.
DA.
In good sweete sooth, I feare I shalbe shent,
It is so long: since I to market went,
But trust me, wyldfowle are such costly geare,
Specially, woodcoks, out of reason deare,
That this houre, I haue the market bett,
To driue a bargayne to my most profyt:
And in the end I chaunst to light on one,
Hyt me as pat as a pudding Pope Ione,
Other market maydes▪ pay downe for their meate,
But that I haue bought, on my score is set.
Well fare credit when mony runneth low,
Marry yet, Butchers, the which do credit so.
(As much Good meate, as they kyll) may perchaunce,
Be glad and fayne at heryng cobs to daunce.
What force I that? euery man shyft for one,
For if I starue, let none my fortune mone,
She faynes to goe out.
Actus. 4. Scena. 7.
Grimball, Dalia, eyther of them a Basket.
GRi.
Softe Dalia, a woorde with you, I praye.
Da.
What friend, Grimbal, welcome as I maye saye:
Gri.
Sayst thou me so, then kysse me for acquaintaunce.
Da.
If I lyke your manhoode, I may do so perchaunce.
She faynes to looke in his basket.
Gri.
Bate me an ase, quoth Boulton, Tush, your minde I know:
Ah syr, you would, be like, let my Cocke Sparrowes goe.
Da.
I warrant thee Grimball.
She takes out a vvhite pudding:
Gri.
Laye off handes Dalia.
You powte me, if that you got, my Pudding awaye:
Da.
Nay good sweete, honny Grimball, this Pudding giue mée.
Gri.
Iche were as good geete hir, for she wyll hate, I see.
Well, my nown good harte roote, I freelie giue thee this,
Vpon condition, that thou giue me a kys.
Da.
Nay, but first wash your lippes, with sweete water you shall,
Gri.
Why ych was ryte now, for my Pudding, hony sweet Grimbal:
Well Dalia, you will floute so long, tyll (though I saye)
With kindnesse you wyll cast a proper handsome man away,
VVherfore soote Conny, euen a lyttle spurte:
Da.
Laye off handes Sir:
Gri
Good do not byte, for ych meane thee no hurte:
Come off Pyggesnie, prefarre me not a iote,
Da.
VVhat woulde the good foole haue,
Gri.
VVhy, you woot whote.
Hearke in your eare:
Da.
You shall commaunde, so proper a man ye are.
That for your sake, I wyll not sticke to ware:
A blew Cassocke, during my lyfe for soothe,
Mary for my sake, I woulde be verie lothe:
So goodlie a handsome man, should lose his head.
Gri.
Nay, for my head, care not a Tinkers torde,
For so God iudge me, and at one bare worde:
Yle lose my death, yea, and my great browne Cowe,
I loue you so filthilie: law ye nowe.
Da.
Thou sayest valiantlie, nowe sing, aswell too:
And thou shalt quicklie knowe, what I meane to doo.
Gri.
Yes by Gogs foote, to pleasure thee, ych shall,
Both syng, spring, fight and playe, the dewl and all.
Da.
O lustilie:
The Song.
Gri.
Come smack me, come smack me, I long for a smouch,
Da.
Go pack thee, go pack thee, thou filthie fine slouch.
GRi.
Leard howe I loue thee,
Da.
This can not moue mee:
Gri.
Why pretie Pygsney, my harte, and my honny?
Da.
Because goodman Hogsface, you woe without mony.
Gri.
I lacke mony, chy graunt,
Da.
Then Grimball auaunt.
Gri.
Cham yong sweete hart, and feate, come kysse me for loue,
Da.
Crokeshanke, your Iowle is to great, such lyking to moue.
Gri.
What meane you by this?
Da.
To leaue thee by gys.
Gri.
First smack me, first smack, I dye for a smouch,
Da.
Go pack thee, go pack thee, thou filthy fine slouch.
Exit.
GRi.
Dalia, arte thou gone? what wolt serue me soe?
O God, cham readie to raye my selfe for woe:
Be valiaunt Grimball, kyll thy selfe man?
Nay, hum Ladie, I will not by Saint Anne.
Ich haue bearde my great Grandsier saye:
Maide will saye naye, and take it: and so she maye,
And therfore chyll, to Mistresse Lamia,
With these Puddings, and Cock Sparowes, by and by:
And in the darke, againe, ych wyll hir trye.
Exit:
Actus. 5.
Scena. 1.
Phallax alone.
PHal.
I maruell much what worketh so my Lord Promos vnrest,
He fares as if a thousand Deuils, were gnawing in his brest:
There is sure some worme of griefe, that doth his conscience nip,
For since Andrugio lost his head, he hath hung downe the lippe.
And truth to say, his fault is such as well may greue his mynd,
The Deuill himselfe could not haue vsde, a practise more vnkind.
This is once. I loue a woman, for my life, as well as be,
But (fayre dames) with her that loues mée. I deale well with, trust mée.
Well, leaue I now my Lord Promos, his owne deedes to aunswere,
Lamia I know lookes, and double lookes, when I come to supper:
I thought as much: sée, to séeke mée, heare coms her Aple squier.
Actus. 5. Scena. 2.
Rosko Phallax.
Ros.
O that I could find Master Phallax. the meat burnes at ye fire:
And by your leaue. Andrugios death, doth make my mistris sweate.
Phal
How now Rosko?
Ros.
Ist you syr? my Mistris doth intreate,
That with all speede, you worship will come away to supper:
The meate and all is ready to set vpon the borde syr.
Phal.
Gramercy for thy paynes, I was euen. comming to her.
Ros.
You are the welcomst man alyue to her I know,
And trust mee at your commaundement ren: ayneth poore Rosko.
Phal.
It is honestly sayd, but now tell mée,
What quality hast, that I may vse thee?
Ros.
I am a Barbour, and when you please syr,
Call (and spare not) for a cast of rose water.
Phal.
But heare me, canst thou heale a gréene wound well?
Ros.
Yea, gréene and ould.
Phal.
Then thy best were to dwel,
[Page]In some vsuall place or stréete, where, through frayes,
Thou mayst be set a worke with wounds alwayes.
Ros.
I thanke my Mistris I haue my hands full,
To trym gentelmen of her acquayntaunce:
And I trust Syr, if that your worship chaunce.
To haue néede of my helpe, I shall earne your mony.
Afore an other.
Phal.
That thou shalt truly:
But syrra, where dwels Lamia?
Ros.
Euen heare syr, enter I pray.
Phal.
That I wyl sure, if that my way be cleare.
Ros.
Yes sir, her doores be open all the yeare.
Exeunt.
Actus. 5. Scena. 3.
Polina, (the mayde, that Andrugio lou'd) in a blew gowne.
PO.
Polina curst, what dame a lyue hath cause of griefe lyke thée.
Who (wonne by loue) hast yeeld the spoyle of thy virginity?
And he for to repayre thy fame, to marry thée, that vowde,
Is done to death for first offence, the second mends not lowde.
Great shame redounds to thée, O Loue, in leauing vs in thrall:
Andrugio and Polina both, in honoryng thée did fall.
Thou so dydst witch our wits, as we from reason strayed quight,
Prouockt by thee, we dyd refuse, no vauntage of delight:
Delight, what did I say? nay death, by rash and fowle abuse,
Alas I shame to tell thus much, though loue doe worke excuse,
So that (fayre dames) from such consent, my accydents of barme,
Forewarneth you, to kéepe aloofe though loue your harts do arme,
But ah Polina, whether runnes thy words into aduise,
When others harmes, inforst by loue, could neuer make thée wise.
The cause is plaine, for that in loue, no reason stands in stude,
And reason is the onely meane, that others harmes we dreade.
Then, that the world hereafter may, to loue inferre my yll,
Andrugios Tombe with dayly teares, Polina worship wyll.
[Page]And further more I vowde, whylst life in mée doth foster breth,
No one shall vaunt of conquered loue, by my Andrugios death,
These shameful weedes, which forst I were that men my fault may know:
Whilst that I liue, shall show I morne for my Andrugio,
I wyll not byde the sharpe assaultes, from sugred words I sent.
I wyll not trust to careles othes, which often wyn consent:
I wyll cut off occasions all, which hope of myrth may moue,
With ceaseles teares yle quench each cause, ye kindleth coles of loue:
And thus tyl death Polina wyll estraunge her selfe from ioy,
Andrugio, to reward thy loue which dyd thy life destroy.
Exit.
Act. 5. Scena. 4.
Rosko alone.
ROs.
A Syr, in fayth, the case is altred quight,
My mistris late that liued in wretched plight:
Byds care adue and euery cause of woe,
The fe [...]e is fled, which made her sorrow so,
Mas [...] Phallax so vnder props her fame,
As none for lyfe dare now her lewdnes blame,
I feare (nay hope) she hath bewicht him so,
As haulfe his brybes, vnto her share will goe:
No force for that, who others doth deceyue,
Deserues himselfe, lyke measure to receyue.
Well, leaue I Lamia, for her selfe to pray,
Better then I can showe, who knowes the way:
It stands me on, for my poore selfe to shyfte,
And I haue founde a helpe at a dead lyfte:
My ould friende Grimbals purce, with pence is full,
And if I empty it not, Dalia wull.
The slauering foole, what he can rap and rend,
(He loues her so) vpon the fylth wyll spend:
But bye your leaue, yle barre her of this match,
My net and all is set, the foole to catch.
[Page]Forsooth before his amorous sute he moue,
He must be trimd to make her more to loue.
And in good sooth, the world shal hardly fall,
But that he shalbe washt, pould, shau'd and all:
And sée the luck, the foole is fast I know,
In that with Rowke he doth so sadly goe.
Scena. 5.
Grymball, Rowke, Rosko.
GRym.
God bores, as sayst, when somewhat handsome ch'am,
I fayth she wyll come off for very shame:
Row.
Yea without doubt for I sweare by saynt Anne:
My selfe loues you, you are so cleane a young man.
Grim.
Nay, thou woult say so, when my face is fayre washt,
Ros.
Good luck a Gods name, the wodcocke is masht.
Row.
And who Barbes ye Grimball.
Grim.
A dapper knaue, one Rosko.
Ros.
Well letherface, we shall haue you Asse ere you goe.
Row.
I know him not, is he a deaft barber?
Grim.
O, yea, why he is Mistris Lamias powler.
And looke syrra, yen is the lyttell knaue.
How dost Rosko?
Ros.
Whope, my eye sight God saue,
What ould Grimball, welcome, sit you downe heare, Boye?
Boy.
Anon.
Boy in the house.
Ros.
Bay leaues in warme water, quick, bring cleane geare,
Boy.
Strayght.
Row.
As thou sayd'st Grymball, this is a feate knaue indeede.
Ros.
How say'syr? oyntments for a scab▪ do you neede?
Row.
Scab, scuruy Iack, ile set you a worke Syr.
Grym.
Nay gogs foote, good nowe, no more of this stur.
Row.
I fayth Barber, I wyll pyck your teeth straight.
Ros.
Nay, to pick my purse, I feare thou dost wayght,
Row.
Yea, gogs hart,
Grym.
Nay, gogs foote,
Ros.
Nowe come Ruffen.
Grim.
Leaue, if you be men,
Heare ye me nowe? be friendes, and by my trothe,
Chill spende a whole quarte of Ale on you bothe.
Ros.
Well, masse Grimball, I lytle thought I wus,
You woulde a brought a knaue, to vie mee thus.
Grim.
Why, knowest him not? why it is lustie Rowke.
Ros.
A strong theefe, I warrant him by his looke.
Row.
Go to Barber, no more, least Copper you catch.
Grim.
What? wilt giue thy nose awaye? beware that match.
For chy see no Copper, vnlest be theare.
Boy brings water.
Boy.
Master, here is delicate water, & cleane geare.
Exit.
Ros.
Well, to quiet my house, and for Grimbals sake,
If it pleaseth you, as friendes, we handes will shake.
Grim.
I, I, do so:
Row.
And for his sake I agrée.
Grim.
Well then, that we may drinke, straight wayes wash mée.
Ros.
Good syr, here's water as sweete as a Rose,
Nowe whyles I wash, your eyes harde you must close.
Grim.
Thus?
Ros.
Harder yet:
Grim.
O, thus:
Ros.
Yea marry, so.
Howe syrra, you knowe what you haue to doe:
Rowke cuttes Grimbals purse.
Ros.
Winke harde. Grimball.
Grim.
Yes, yes, I shall.
Row.
Heare's the tooth pick, and all.
Exit.
Ros.
Departe then tyll I call?
Verie will syr, your face, is gayly cleane,
Were your teeth nowe pickt, you maye kisse a queane.
Grim.
Sayst thou mee so? Good nowe dispatch and awaye?
I euen fyssell, vntyll I smouch Dalia.
Ros.
O doo you so? I am right glad you tell.
I else had thought, tad bene your teethe dyd smell.
Grim.
O Lorde, gogs foote, you picke me to the quicke:
Ros.
Quiet your selfe, your teeth are furred thicke.
Grim.
O, oh no more, O God, I spattell blood.
Ros.
I haue done, spyt out, this doth you much good: Boye?
Boy.
Anon.
Boy within.
Ros.
Bring the drinke in the Porringer.
To gargalis his teeth.
Boy.
It is here syr.
Exit.
Ros.
Wash your feeth with this, good maister Grimball.
Grim.
I am poysoned, ah, it is bytter gall:
Ros.
Eate these Comfyts, to sweeten your mouth with all.
Grim.
Yea mary syr, these are gay sugred geare.
Ros.
Their sweetnesse straight, wyll make you stinke I feare:
Grim.
VVell nowe, what must I paye, that chy were gone?
Ros.
VVhat you wyll.
Grim.
Sayest me so? O cham vndone.
Ros.
Howe nowe Grimball?
Grim.
O Leard, my Purse is cutte.
Ros.
VVhen? where?
Grim.
Nowe, here.
Ros.
Boye, let the doore be shutte,
If it be here, we wyll straight wayes see,
Where's he, that came with you?
Grim.
I can not tell.
Ros.
What is hee?
Grim.
I knowe not.
Ros.
Where doth he dwell?
Grim.
O Leard, I ken not I.
Ros.
You haue done well.
This knaue, your pence, in his pocket hath purst:
Let's seeke him out.
Grim.
Nay harke, I must neades first:
O Learde, Learde, cham sicke, my belly akes, too, too:
Ros.
Thou lookst yll: well, yle tell thee what to doo.
[Page]Since thou art so sicke, straight wayes, get thée home,
To finde this Iacke, my selfe abroade wyll rome.
The rather, for that he playde the knaue with mée,
Gri.
Cham sicke in déede, and therfore ych thanke thée:
Ros.
I sée sometime, the blinde man hits a Crowe,
He maye thanke me, that he is plagued soe:
Gri.
Well, well, Dalia, the Lone ych bare to thée,
Hath made me sicke, and pickt my purse from mée.
Exit.
Ros.
A, is he gone? a foole company him,
In good soothe Sir, this match fadged frim:
Well, I wyll trudge, to finde my tellewe Rowke,
To share the price, that my deuise hath tooke.
Exit.
Actus. 5. Scena. 6.
Cassandra, in blacke.
CAs.
The heauy chardge, that Nature bindes me too,
I haue perform'd, ingrau'd my Brother is:
O woulde to God (to ease, my ceaseles woo)
My wretched bones, intombed were with his.
But O in vaine, this bootelesse wish, I vse,
I, poore I must lyue in sorrowe, ioynde with shame:
And shall he lyue? that dyd vs both abuse?
And quench through rule, the coles of iust reuenge?
O: no, I wyll nowe hye me to the King:
To whome, I wyll, recount my wretched state,
Lewde Promos rape, my Brothers death and all:
And (though with shame, I maye this tale relate)
To prooue that force, enforced me to fall:
When I haue showne, Lorde Promos fowle misdeedes,
This knife foorthwith, shall ende my woe and shame,
My gored harte, which at his feete then bleedes,
To scorge his faultes, the King wyll more inflame.
[Page]In déedes to doo, that I in woordes pretende,
I nowe aduise, my iourney, to the King:
Yet ere I go, as Swans sing at their ende,
In solemne Song, I meane my knell to ryng.
Cassandraes Song.
SIth fortune thwart, doth crosse my ioyes with care,
Sith that my blisse, is chaungde to bale by fate:
Sith frowarde chaunce, my dayes in woe doth weare,
Sith I alas, must mone without a mate.
I wretch haue vowde, to sing both daye and night,
O sorrowe slaye, all motions of delight.
¶ Come grieslie griefe, torment this harte of mine,
Come deepe dispaire, and stoppe my loathed breath.
Come wretched woe, my thought of hope to pine:
Come cruell care, preferre my sute to death.
Death, ende my wo, which sing both daye and night,
O sorrowe slaye, all motions of delight.
Exit.
FINIS.
G. W.
❧ The seconde part of the Famous Historie of Promos and Cassandra.
❧ The seconde parte of the Historie of Promos and Cassandra.
‘Formae nulla fides.’
Actus. 1.
Scena. 1.
¶ Polina
in a blewe Gowne, shadowed with a blacke Sarcenet, going to the Temple to praye, vpon Andrugios Tombe.
PRomise is debt, and I my vowe haue past,
Andrugios Tombe, to wash with daylie teares:
Which Sacrifice (although God wot in waste)
I wyll performe, my Alter is of cares.
Of fuming sighes, my offring incense is,
My pittious playntes, in steede of Prayers are:
Yea, woulde to God in penaunce of my mys.
I with the rest, my loathed lyfe might share.
But O in vaine, I wish this welcomde ende,
Death is to slowe, to slaye the wretched wight:
And all to soone, he doth his forces bende,
To wounde their hartes, which wallowe in delight.
Yet in my care, styll goes, my passing Bell,
So ofte as I. Andrugios death doo minde:
So ofte as men, with poynted fingers tell,
Their friendes, my faultes, which by my weedes they finde.
But O the cause, with Death, which threates me most,
I wysh to dye, I dye through wretched woe,
My dying harte, desires to yéelde the ghost,
My traunces straunge, a present death foreshowe.
But as the reede doth bow at euery blast.
To breake the same, when rowghest stormes lackes might,
So wretched I, with euery woe doe waste,
Yet care wants force, to kyll my hart out ryght.
O gratious God and is my gilt so great.
As you the same, with thousand deathes must wreake?
You will it so, else care I could intreate?
With halfe these woes, my thryd of lyfe, to breake.
[Page]But what meanst thou Polina, most accurst,
To muse, why God, this pennaunce ioynes thée to
Whose correction, although we take at worst,
To our great good he doth the same bestow.
So that, syth grése can not relyue my friend,
Syth scorching syghes my sorrowes cannot drye:
Syth care himselfe, lackes force my lyfe to ende.
Syth styll I lyue that euery howre doe dye:
Syth mighty God appoyntes my pennaunce so,
In mornefull song I wyll my patience show,
Polinas Song.
A Myd my bale, the lightning ioy, that pyning care doth bring,
VVith patience cheares my heauy hart, as in my vvoes I sing,
I knovv my Gilt, I feele my scurge: my ease is death I see:
And care (I fynde) by peecemeale vveares, my hart to set mee free.
O care, my comfort and refuge, feare not to worke thy vvyll,
VVith patience I thy corfiues byde, feede on my life thy fyll.
Thy appetyte vvith syghes and teares, I dayly vvyl procure.
And wretched I, wil vaile to death, throw when thou wilt thy Lure.
Exit, Polina,
Actus. 1. Scena. 2.
Enter a Messenger from the King.
I Haue at length (though wéery come in troth)
Obtaynd a fight of Iulios stately walles,
A Kings message, can not be done with floth:
Whome he bids goé, must runne through myre and dyrt,
And I am sent to Lord Promos in post.
To tel him that the king wyll sée him strayght.
But much I feare that Promos néedes not bost:
Of any gayne by his soueraygnes receyte,
[Page]But Holla tongue of lauysh spéeche beware,
Though subiects oft in Princes meaning prye,
They must their words, and not their myndes declare.
Vnto which course I wyll my tongue apply,
Lord Promos shall my princes comming know.
My prince himselfe, the cause thereof shall show.
Exit.
Actus. 1. Scena. 3.
Rosko Lamias man.
ROs.
Ist possible that my Mistris Lamia,
Ouer the shooes should b [...]yn loue with Phallax?
Why by Ies [...] as she her selfe doth saye,)
With pure good ioyll, her harte doth melt lyke waxe:
And this I am sure, euery howre they themselues,
By their sweete selues, or by their letters greete,
But the sporte is to see the louing elues,
Byll together when they in secret meete.
She lowres, he lauffes she syghes threwe pure loue.
The strumpets and Crocodiles teares a lyke.
Nay, nay, sayes he (good pugges) no more of this:
Well, sayes shee, and wéepes, my griefe you do not proue.
Then strayght this storme is cheared with a kys,
And then a both sides, three wordes and a smouch:
Within hir eare, then whispereth this slouch,
And by the way he stumbleth on her lyppes,
Thus eyther stryues most louing signes to show,
Much good doo it them, syth they are both content,
Once I am sure, how so the game doth goe,
I haue no cause their lyking to repent:
I syldome doe betweene them message beare,
But that I haue an Item in the hande,
Well, I must trudge to doe a certaine chare,
Which, take I tyme, cocke for my gayne doth stand.
Actus. 1. Scena. 4.
Phallax. Dowson a Carpenter.
PHal.
Dispatch Dowson, vp with the frame quickly,
So space your roomes, as the nyne worthyes may,
Be so instauld, as best may please the eye.
Dow.
Very good, I shall:
Phal.
Nay soft Dowson, stay:
Let your man at saynt Annes crosse, out of hande,
Ereckt a stage, that the Wayghts in sight may stande.
Dow.
Wyll you ought else?
Phal.
Soft awhyle, let mée sée,
On Iesus gate, the fowre vertues I trow,
Appoynted are to stand:
Dow.
I syr, they are so.
Phal.
Wel, then about your charge, I wyll fore sée,
The Confort of Musick, well plast to be.
Dow.
I am gone syr.
Exit.
Actus 1. Scena. 5.
The Bedall of the Taylers, Phallax.
BE.
Heare you maister Phallax?
The Wardens of the Marchantaylers are.
Where (with themselues) they shall their Pageaunt place?
Phal.
With what strange showes, doo they their Pageaunt graces
Be.
They haue Hercules, of Monsters conqueryng,
Huge great Grants, in a forest fighting,
With Lyons, Beares, VVolues, Apes, Foxes, and Grayes,
Baiards, Brockes. &c.
Phal.
O woudrons frayes,
Marry syr since they are prouided thus,
Out of their wayes, God kéepe Maister Pediculus.
Be.
You are plesaunt syr, but with spéede I pray,
You aunswere mée, I was charged not to stay.
Phal.
Because I know, you haue all things currant,
They shall stand where they shal no viewers want:
How say you to the ende of Ducke Alley?
Be.
There all the beggers in the towne wilbe.
Phal.
O, most attendaunce is, where beggers are,
Farewell, away.
Be.
I wyll your wyll declare.
Exit.
Actus. 1. Scena. 6.
Phallax, Two men, apparrelled, lyke greene men at the Mayors feast, with clubbes of fyre worke.
PHal.
This geare fadgeth now, that these fellowes peare,
Friendes where waight you?
First.
In Iesus stréete to keepe a passadge cleare,
That the King and his trayne, may passe with ease.
Phal.
O, very good,
Second.
Ought else Syr, do you please?
Phal.
No, no: about your charge.
Both.
We are gone:
Exeunt.
Phal.
A syr, heare is short knowledge, to entertayne a kyng,
But O, O, quid non pecunia? yea, at a dayes warning?
The king in prouision that thought to take vs tardy,
As if we had a yeare bene warnd, shall by his welcome sée:
I haue yet one chare to do: but soft, heare is Rotko,
I must néedes delyuer him a messadge before I goe.
Actus. 1. Scena. 7.
Rosko, Phallax.
Ros.
I sayth, I haue noble newes for Lamia,
Phal.
Nay soft, friend Rosko, take myne in your way.
Ros.
Mayster Phallax, Osyd I cry you mercy.
Phal.
Rosko with speede tell thy Mistris from mée,
The King straight wayes wyll come to the Cytie:
In whose great trayne there is a company,
Within her house with moe shall mery be,
Therefore, for my sake, wyll her to foresée,
To welcome them, that nothing wanting be,
This is all I wyll, for want of leysure.
Exit.
Ros.
I wyll not fayle syr, to show your pleasure:
Mary, in fayth, these newes falles iumpe with the rest,
They shalbe welcome and fare of the best:
But although they well fyll their bodyes thus,
Their purses will be dryuen to a non plus:
No force a whyt, each pleasure hath his payne,
Better the purce then body starue of wayne.
Well, I wyll trudge, my welcome newes to tell,
And then abroade, good company to smell.
Exit.
Actus. 1. Scena. 8.
Coruinus the King, Cassandra, two counsellers. And Vaislao, a young noble man.
KYng.
Cassandra, we draw neare vnto the Towne.
So that I wyll that you from vs depart:
Tyll further of our pleasure you doe heare.
Yet rest assur'd, that wycked Promos,
Shall abide such punishment, as the world,
Shall hould mée iust, and cleare thee of offence.
Cas.
Dread soueraigne, as you wyl, Cassandra goeth hence.
Exit.
King.
I playnely see, it tendes to great behoue,
That Prynces oft doo vayle their eares to heare,
The Misers playnt: for though they doe appoynt,
Such as they thynke will Iustice execute,
Aucthority is such a commaunder,
[Page]As, where as men by office beareth sway,
If they their rule by conscience measure not,
The poore mans ryght is ouercome by might.
If loue or hate from Iustice leade the Iudge,
Then money sure may ouer rule the case.
Thus one abuse is cause of many moe:
And therefore none in Iudges ought to be,
How Rulers wrong, fewe tales are tould the King:
The reason is, their power keepes in awe
Such men as haue great cause for to complayne.
If Cassandra her goodes, nay, lyfe preferd,
Before reuenge of Promos trechery:
I had not knowne, his detestable rape,
The which he forst to saue her brothers lyfe.
And furthermore, Andrugios raunsome payde,
I had not knowne be put him vnto death:
For when (good soule) she had this treason tould.
Through very shame her honour so was spoyld:
She drewe her knyfe to wound her selfe to death.
Whose pysious plyght, my hart prouockt to wrath,
At Promos wyles:
So that to vse undifferency to both,
Euen in the place where all these wronges were none:
My selfe am come, to syt vpon the cause.
But see where Promos and the Mayor waight,
To welcome mee with great solemnity:
With cheereful showe I shadowe wyll the hate,
I beare to him for his insolency:
Perhaps I may learne more of his abuse,
Whereby the more his punishment may be.
Come my Lords to the Towne haste we apace:
All speake.
We all are prest, to wayght vpon your Grace:
Actus. 1. Scena. 9.
¶ Promos, Maior, three Aldermen, in red Gownes, vvith a Sworde bearer, awayghtes the Kinges comming.
Promos, his briefe Oration.
PRo.
Renowned King, lo here your faithful subiects preast to show
The loyall duetie, which (in ryght) they to your highnesse owe.
Your presence, cheares all sorts of vs: yet ten times more we ioye,
You thinke vs stoarde, our warning short, for to receyue a Roye.
Our wyll, is such, as shall supplie, I trust in vs all want,
And where good wyll the welcome geues, prouision syld is scant.
Loe, this is all: yea, for vs all, that I in wordes bestowe,
Your Maiestie, our further zeale, in ready deedes shall knowe.
And first, dreade King, I render you, the swoorde of Iustice heare,
Which as your Liuetenant I trust, vprightlie I dyd heare.
The King delyuers the Sworde, to one of his Counsell.
KIng.
Promos, the good report, of your good gouernment I heare,
Or at the least, the good conceyte, that towards you I beare.
To incourage you the more, in Iustice to perseauer,
Is the chéefe cause. I dyd addresse, my Progresse heather.
Pro.
I thanke your Highnesse.
The Maior presentes the King, with a fayre Purse.
MA.
Renowned King, our ready wylles to showe,
In your behalfe, our goodes (nay lyues) to spende:
In all our names, I fréelie here bestowe
On your Highnes, this Purse: vnto this ende,
To po [...] [...] your most Royall Maiestie,
In all our wealth, therto bounde by duetie.
Kin
Your great good wyls, and gyfts with thanks I take:
But kéepe you styll, your goodes, to do you good.
[Page]It is inough, and all that I do craue,
If néedes compels for your and our safety,
That you in part your proffers large performe:
And for this time as outward showes make proofe,
It is inough (and all that I desire)
That your harts and tongues (alyke) byd me welcome.
All.
Lord preserue your Maiesty.
¶ Fiue or sixe, the one halfe men, the other vvomen, neare vnto the Musick, singing on some stage, erected from the ground: During the first parte of the song, the King faineth to talke sadlie vvith some of his Counsell.
The Kings Gentleman Vsher.
Forewards my Lordes.
They all go out leysurablie vvhile the rest of the Song is made an ende.
Actus. 2.
Scena. 1.
Lamia the Curtizan.
LA.
The match goes harde, which rayseth no mans gaine,
The vertue rare, that none to vice maye wreast:
And sure, the Lawe, that made me late complaine:
Allureth me, many a wanton geast:
Dames of my Trade, shutte vp their shoppes for feare,
Their stuffe prou'd Contra formam Statuti,
Then I, which lycenst am, to sell fine ware:
Am lyke to be well customed perdy:
And nowe Tyme serues, least custome after fayle,
At hyest rate, my Toyes I vallue must:
Let me alone, to set my Toyes to sale:
Yong Ruflers I, in faith, wyll serue of trust.
[Page]Who wayes me not, him wyll I fayne to loue,
Who loues me once, is lymed to my heast:
My cullers some, and some shall weare my gloue,
And he my harte, whose payment lykes me best.
And here at hande are customers I trowe,
These are the friendes, of Phallax, my swéete friende:
Nowe wyll I go, and set my wares to showe,
But let them laugh, that wynneth in the ende.
Exit.
Actus. 2. Scena. 2.
Apio and Bruno. Two Gentlemen straungers, with Rosko.
APio.
Come on good friende: where dwels Lady Lamia?
Ros.
Euen by Syr.
Apio.
Well then, go thy waye,
Showe who sent vs, and what our meaning is:
Least she not knowing vs, doo take amys.
That thus boldlye we come to visite hir.
Ros.
No bolder then welcome, I warrant you Sir.
Bruno.
Well, thy Message doo:
Ros.
I go.
Exit.
Fowre VVomen brauelie apparelled, sitting singing in Lamia [...]s vvindowe, with wrought Smockes, and Cawles, in their hands, as if they were a vvorking.
The Quyre.
JF pleasure, be treasure,
Apio.
Harke.
The Quyre.
The golden worlde is here, the golden worlds is here.
Refuse you, or chuse you:
But welcome who drawes neare, but welcome who drawes neare.
Bruno.
They be the Muses sure,
Apio.
Naye, Syrens lure.
First sings.
Here lyues delyght,
Second sin.
Here dyes despight:
Thes both.
Desyre here, hath his wyll.
Third sin.
Here Loues reliefe,
Fourth sin.
Destroyeth griefe:
Last two.
VVhich carefull hartes doth kyll.
Bruno.
Attende them styll.
Apio.
That, as you wyll.
First sings.
Here wysh in wyll, doth care destroye,
Second sin.
Playe here your fyll, we are not coye:
Third sin.
Which breedes much yll, we purge annoy,
Fourth sin.
Our lyues here styll, we leade in ioye.
The Quyre.
If pleasure, be treasure,
The golden worlde is here, the golden worlde is here:
Refuse you, or chuse you,
But welcome, who coms neare, but welcome, who coms neare.
First.
VVantons drawe neare.
Seconde.
Taste of our cheare:
Both.
Our Cates are fine and sweete.
Thirde.
Come be not coye,
Fowrth.
To worke your ioye:
The last two.
We fall wyll at your feete.
Bruno.
A, good kinde wormes:
Apio.
Harke.
First.
Loe, here we be, good wyll which moue,
Second.
We lyue you see, for your behoue:
Thirde.
Come we agree, to let you proue.
Fowrth
VVithout a fee, the fruites of Loue.
The quire all.
If pleasure, be treasure, the golden worlde is here, &c.
Bruno.
Vpon this large warrant, we maye venter,
The doore opes alone, come, let vs enter.
Apio.
Agreede.
¶ Enter a Sergeaunt bearing a Mace, another Offycer, with a Paper, lyke a Proclamation: and with them the Cryer,
OFficer.
Cryer, Make a noyse.
Cry.
O yes. And so thrise.
Off.
All manner of personnes, here present,
Cry.
All manner of personnes, here present.
Off.
Be sylent, on payne, of imprisonment,
Cry.
Be sylent, on payne, of imprisonment.
The Offycer reades the Proclamation.
COruinus, the hye, and mightie King, of Hungarie, and Boemia:
Vnto all his louing Subiects of Iulio, sendeth greeting. And therwithall, giueth knowledge, of his Princelie fauour, towards euery sort of them.
First, if any person, Officer, or other: hath wronged any of his true subiects, by the corruption of brybes, affecting or not fauoring, of the person: through Vsurie, extortion, wrong imprisonment: or with any other vniust practise: His Maiestie wylles the partie so grieued, to repayre to Syr Vlrico, one of his highnesse priuie Counsell: who (finding his, or their iniuries) is cōmaunded, to certifie them, and their proofe, vnto the Kings maiestie: where incontinentlie, he wyll order the controuersie, to the release of the partie grieued, and the punishment of the offenders.
Further, if any of his faithfull subiectes, can charge any person, Officer, or other, with any notable or haynous offence [Page]as Treason, Murder, Sacriledge, sedicion: or with any such notorious cryme: for the safetie of his Royal person, benefyte and quiet of his Realme, and subiectes. On Fridaye next, his most excellent Maiestie (with the aduise of his honorable Counsell) wyl in open Court syt, to heare and determine, all such offences. Therfore he strayghtlie chargeth all and euerie of his subiectes, that knowe any such haynous offenders: one the forenamed daye, that he present, both the offender, and his faulte.
Dated at his Royall Court, in Iulio, the. 6. of Februarie.
God saue the King.
Exeunt.
Actus. 2. Scena. 4.
Roske.
ROs.
Sée howe we are croft: we thought the King for pleasure,
Came to visite vs: when to his paine,
And our plagues, I feare he bestowes his leysure.
To heare the wronges, of such as wyll complaine
Of any man: But the sport is to sée
Vs Officers, one looke of another:
I at Lorde Promos, Lorde Promos at mée,
The Lawiers, at the Shriefe and Maior.
They gase asmuch on the ruling Lawier.
For to be plaine, the clearest of all,
Peccaui syng, to heare the grieuous call,
Against Vsurie, brybrie, and barrating,
Suborning, extorcion, and boulstring.
Some faultes are hearde, some by Proclamation staye,
Before the King, to be hearde on Fridaye.
I yet haue scapte, and hope to go scotfrée:
But so, or no, whylst leysure serues mée.
[Page]To haue my a answers fresh if I be cauld,
Of merry mates, I haue a meetyng stauld,
To whome my sences, to refresh I wend,
Who gets a pace as meryly may spend.
Exit.
Actus. 2. Scena. 5.
Sir Virice, with diuers papers in his hand, two poore Citysens, soliting complayntes.
VL.
As thou complaynst, agaynst all equity,
Houldes Phallax thy house, by this extremity?
First.
Yea sure, and he hath bound me so subtylly,
As lesse you helpe, lawe yeeldes mee no remidy.
Vl.
Well, what say you? is Phallax mony payd?
Se.
Saue fyue pound Syr:
VI.
For which your bend is stayde.
Se.
Nay mary, the same I would gladly pay,
But my bonde for the forfeyt he doth stay.
VI.
Summum Ius, I sée, is Summa Imuria:
So these wronges must be salued some other way.
First.
Yea, more then this, most men say:
VI.
What?
First.
To be playne, he kéepes Mistris Lamia.
VI.
Admyt be doe, what helpe haue you by this?
Se.
Yes mary, it prooues, a doudle knaue he is:
A couetous churle, and a lecher too.
Vl.
Well, well, honest men, for your witnesse go,
And as on proofe, I fynde your iniuries.
So I wyl moue, the king for remedyes.
Both.
We thanke your honour.
Exeunt.
Vl.
Tys more then straunge, to sée with honest show,
What fowle deceytes, lewde officers can hyde:
In euery case, their crafte, they collour so,
As styll they haue, stryckt lawe vpon their side.
[Page]These cunning Théeues, with lawe, can Lordships steale,
When for a sheepe, the ignoraunt are trust:
Yea, who more rough, with small offenders deale,
Then these false men, to make themselues seeme iust?
The tirant Phallaris, was praysed in this,
When Perillus the brasen torment made:
He founde the wretch, strayght wayes in some amys,
And made him first, the scourge thereof taste:
A iust reward for such as doe present
An others fault, himselfe, the guiltyest man.
Well, to our weale, our gratious king is bent,
To taste these theeues, to vse what meanes he can.
But as at Cheastes, though skylfull players play,
Skyllesse vewers, may see, what they omyt:
So though our king, in searching Iudgement may,
Gesse at their faultes, which secret wronges commit:
Yet for to iudge, by trueth, and not by ame,
My selfe in cheefe, his highnesse doth auctorise,
On proofe for to returne who meryts blame,
And as I fynde, so he himselfe will punish:
So that to vse, my charge indyfferently,
My Clyents wronges, I wyll with wytnesse trye.
As he is going out, Pimos, a young gentelman speakes to him.
Actus. 2. Scena. 6.
PI.
Sir Vlrico, I humbly craue to know,
What good successe: my honest sute ensues?
VI.
Master Pimos, in breete, the same to showe,
I feare, you both, my order wyll refuse:
Lyros, that thinkes he geues more then he should,
And you, for that, you haue not, what you would,
Pi.
It shall goe hard, if that your award mistikes mée.
VI.
Wel, goe with mee, and you the same shall see:
Pi.
I waight on you.
Exeunt.
Actus 3.
Scena. 1.
Phallax.
PHal.
My troubled hart with guiltynesse agreu'd,
Lyke fyre doth make my eares and cheekes to glow:
God Graunt I scape this blacke day vnrepreu'd,
I care not how the game goe to morrow.
Well, I wyll set a face of brasse on it,
And with the rest, vpon the King attend:
Who euen anon wyll heare in Iudgement syt,
To heauen or hel some officers to send.
But soft, a pryze, Gripax and Rapax I sée,
A share of their venture belonges to mée.
Actus. 3. Scena. 2.
Gripax, Rapax, Promoters, Iohn Adroynes, A Clowne, Phallax.
JOhn.
Nay, good honest Promoters let mée go.
Gri.
Tush Iohn Adroines, we must not leaue you so:
What? an ould hobclunch a wanton knaue?
You shal to the King.
Iohn.
Marry Iohn Adroynes God saue:
The king? why he wyll not looke of poore men.
Ra.
Yes, yes, and wyll spye a knaue in your face.
Iohn.
Wyll he so? then, good you he gone apace.
Gri.
And why?
Iohn.
Least in my face, he spye you too,
Phal.
Haue you séene a dawe, bebob two crowes so?
Ra.
Well, come awaye syr patch.
Iohn.
Leaue, or by God yle scratch.
They fawle a fightyng.
Gri.
What wilt thou so?
Iohn.
Yea, and byte too.
Gri.
Helpe Rapax, play the man.
Iohn.
Nay, do both what you can.
Phal.
If that in bobs, theyr bargayne be,
In fayth they share alone for mee.
Ra.
What bytest thou hobclunch,
Iohn.
Yea, that chull, and punch.
Gri.
O Lorde God, my hart.
Iohn.
Knaues, ile make you fart.
Ra.
Hould thy hands Lob,
Iohn.
Fyrst, take this bob.
Phal.
To parte this fraye, it is bye time, I can tell, My Promoters else of the roste wyll smell.
Ra.
O, my neck thou wylt breake.
Iohn.
Yea, Gods ames, cryst thou creake?
Phal.
How now my friends? why what a stur is this?
Gri.
Marry.
Phal.
What?
Iohn.
Care they part, yle make them pys.
Phal.
Houlde, no more blowes.
Iohn.
Knaues, this honest man thanke,
That you scape so well.
Phal.
Friend be not to cranke,
I am an officer, and meane to know
The cause, why you brauld thus, before I goe:
Your bobs show, that the same, you best can tell.
Ra.
I would your worship, felt the same as well,
I then am sure, this blockhedded slaue,
For both his faultes, double punishment should haue.
Phal.
What faultes?
Ra.
Marry,
Iohn.
He wyll lye lyke a dogge.
Phal.
How now you churle, your tongue, would haue a clog, Say on:
Ra.
To showe his first, and chiefest faughte:
His Fathers maide, and he are naught.
Iohn.
What I?
Ra.
I.
Iohn.
By my Grandsires soule, you lye.
Phal.
Peace: Friende, for this faulte, thou must dye.
Iohn.
Dye, Learde saue vs: you sqawde knowe, yle [...] yée: For reforming a lye, thus against mée.
Phal.
Tush, tush, it helpeth not: if they can proue this.
Gri.
For some proofe, I sawe him and the Maide kys.
Iohn.
Can not foke kys: but they are naught by and by?
Phal.
This presumption friende, wyll touch thee shrowdlie:
If thou scape with life, be thou sore of this,
Thou shalt be terriblie whypped, for this kys.
Iohn.
Whypt, mary God shielde, chy had rather be hangde [...]
Ra.
Growte nowle, come to the King.
Iohn.
Arte not well hangde.
Phal.
Well, good fellowes, lets take vp this matter.
Gri.
Nay, first Iohn Adroines, shalbe trust in a halter.
Phal.
Why? helpes it you, to sée the poore man whypt?
I praye you friendes, for this tyme let him go.
Iohn.
Stande styll, and chull, whether they wyll or no:
Ra.
Nay, but we charge him, in the Kings name, staye thée.
Phal.
Harke honest man, I warrant thée set frée?
Grease them well, in their handes, and speake them fayre:
Iohn.
O Leard God, our tallowe potte is not here.
Phal.
Tush, clawe them with money:
Iohn.
Why so my nayles are sharpe.
Phal.
I see, for Clownes, Pans Pype, is méeter, thē Apolles Harpe. They can skyll of no Musicke, but plaine Song.
Gri.
I praye lets goe, we tryfle tyme too long:
Phal.
Strayght. Cockes soule knaue, stoppe his mouth with money.
Iohn.
O, I ken you nowe syr, chy crie you mercie.
Ra.
Come on slouch, wylt please you be iogging hence?
Iohn.
Here is all, tenne shyllinges, and thyrtene pence.
Phal.
Harke ye my friendes.
Gri.
We must not let him goe.
Phal.
Harke once more.
Iohn.
Giue them the money.
Phal.
It shall be so.
Ra.
Well, although he deserues great punishment,
For your sake, for this tyme we are content:
Iohn Adroines
farewell, henceforth be honest,
And for this faulte, wyll passe it ore in ieast.
Exeunt.
Iohn
Then giues our money.
Phal.
Why?
Iohn.
Why, they dyd but ieast:
Phal.
Yea, but they tooke thy money in earnest.
Exit.
Iohn.
Art gone, nowe the Dewle choake you all with it:
Howe chy kisse againe, the knaues hae taught me wyt.
But by Saint Anne, chy do see hur lady:
Men maye do what them woll, that haue money.
Ich surely had bene whipt, but for my golde,
But chull no more, with smouches be so bolde.
Yea, and ych wysh all Louers to be wyse,
There be learing knaues abroade, haue Cattes eyes:
Why, by Gods bores, they can bothe see and marke,
If a man steale, but a smouch in the darke.
And nowe the worlde is growne, to such iollie spye:
As if foke doo kysse, the'are naught by and by.
Well, ych wyll home, and tell my Father Droyne:
Howe that, two theeues robd mee of my Coyne.
Exit.
¶ Enter the King, Promos, Mrico, Maior, Gonsago, Phallax, with two other attendantes.
KIng
Sir Gonsago, if that we henceforth heare,
With will, or wealth, you doe our subiects wrong:
Looke not agayne, this fauour for to fynde,
We vse thie grace, to wyn you to amende:
If not, our wrath shall feare you to offende.
God spade you.
Gousago, doth reuerence and departeth.
KYng.
I see by proofe, that true the prouer be is,
Myght maisters right, wealth is such a canker,
As woundes the conscience, of his Maister,
And deuoures the hart of his poore neyghbour.
To cure which sore, Iustice his pryde must pyue,
Which Iustice ought in Princes most to shine:
And syth subiects lyue by their princes law,
Whose lawes in cheefe, the rytch should keepe in awe:
The poore in wrouges, but sildome doth delyght,
They haue inuffe, for to desende their right:
It much behoues the maker of these lawes,
(This mony findes in them, so many flawes)
To see his lawes, obser'd as they are ment:
Or else good lawes, wyll turne to euyll intent.
Well, ere I leaue, my poorest subiects shall,
Both lyue, and lyke: and by the richest stawll.
Pro.
Regarded and most mightie Prince, your clemency herein,
Those harts, your rule, cōmands through feare to faithful loue shal win.
Vl.
Renowmed king, I am for to complaine,
Of Phallax, Lord Promos secondary,
Whose hainous wrouges many poore men doth paine,
By me, who pray, your highnes remedy.
King.
My Lord Promes, it seemes you rule at large,
When as your clarkes are officers vniust.
Pro.
Dread king, I thinke, he can these wrong discharge.
Kyng.
Doe you but thinke syr: a sure speare to trust?
A dum death, and blynde Iudge, can do as much:
Well, well, God graunt, your owne lyfe, byde the tutch.
Syr Vlrice, your complaynt continew:
Vl.
Gratious King, his wrouges be these insew:
Fyrst Phallax, is a coumon Barriter,
In office, a lewd extortioner:
The crafty man, oft puts these wronges in vre,
If poore men haue, that lykes his searching eye,
He showeth gould, the needy soules to lure:
Which if they take, so tast he doth them tye,
[Page]That by some bonde, or couenaunt forfayted.
They are inforst (farre beneath the vallew)
To let him haue what his eye coueyted:
And for to proue, that this report is true,
I showe no more, then witnesse prou'd by oth,
Whose names and handes, defends it heare as troth,
Vlrice deliuers the King a writing with names at it.
King.
How now Promos? how thinke you of your man?
Vse both your wyttes, to cleare him if you can.
Pro.
Dread King, my hart to heare his faultes doth bleede.
King.
Howe far'de it then, to suffer it indéede?
It dyde, I trowe, or now you speake in iest:
Thy Master's mute Phallax, I hould it best
That thou speake, for thy selfe.
Phal.
I humbly craue,
Of your grace, for aunswere, respyt to haue.
King.
Why? to deuise a cloke to hyde a knaue?
Friend, veritas non querit angulos,
And if your selfe, you on your truth repose,
You may be bould, these faultes for to deny,
Some, lyttel care, vpon their othes to lye:
Sée if any in your behalfe will sweare.
Phal.
O Lord God, is there no knyghtes of the poste heare?
Well, then of force, I must sing Peccaui.
And crye out ryght, to the king for mercy.
O King, I am, in faulte, I must confesse,
The which I wyll with repentaunce redresse.
King.
Thy confession, doth meryt some fauour,
But repentaunce payes not thy poore neyghbour:
Wherefore, Syr Vlrico, his goods sease you,
And those, he wrong'd, restore you, to their due.
Vl.
Looke what he gettes, most thinke, he wastes straight waye,
Vpon a leawde harlot, named Lamia:
So that his goods, wyll scarse pay euery wight.
King.
Where naught is left, the king must lose his right.
[Page]Pay as you may, I hould it no offence,
If eache pay somewhat for experience:
But by the way, you rule the citty well,
That suffer, by your nose, such dames to dwell.
And now Phallax, thy further pennaunce ys,
That forthwith, thou do resigne thy office.
Vlrico, to his account lykewise, sée.
Vl.
It shalbe done.
King.
Phallax, further heare mée:
Because thou didst, thy faultes at first confesse,
From punishment▪ thy person I release:
Phal.
I most humbly, do thanke your maiesty.
Pro.
Ah, out alas, Cassandra heare I see.
Cassandra in a blewe gowne, shadowed with black.
Cas.
O would ye teares, myght tel my tale, I shame so much my fall,
Or else, Lord Promos lewdnes showen, would death would ende my thrall.
Pro.
Welcome my sweete Cassandra.
Cas.
Murdrous varlet, away.
Renowmed King, I pardon craue, for this my hould attempt,
In preasing thus so neare your grace, my sorrow to present:
And least my foe, false Promos heare, doe interrupt my tale,
Graunt gratious King, that vncontrould, I may report my bale,
King.
How now Promos? how lyke you, of this song?
Say on fayre dame, I long to heare thy wrong.
Cas.
Then knowe dread souerayne, that he this doome did gene,
That my Brother, for wantonnesse should lose his head:
And that the mayde, which sind, should euer after lyue
In some religious house, to sorrowe her misdeede:
To saue my brother iug'd to dye, with teares I sought to moue
Lord Promos hart, to showe him grace but he with lawles loue,
Was fyred by and by▪ and knowing necessity,
To saue my brothers lyfe, would make me yéeld to much,
He cran'd this raunsome, to haue my virginitie:
No teares could worke restraynt, his wicked lust was such,
Two euils here were, one must I chuse, though bad were very best,
[Page]To sée my brother put to death, or graunt his lewde request:
In fyne, subdude with naturall loue, I did agree,
Vpon these two poyntes: that marry mee he should,
And that from prison vyle, he should my brother free.
All this with moustrous othes, he promised he would.
But O this periurd Promos, when he had wrought his wyll,
Fyrst cast me of: and after causd the Gailer for to kill
My brother, raunsomde, with the spoyle of my good name:
So that for companing, with such a hellish feende,
I haue condemnde my selfe to weare these weedes of shame:
Whose cognisance doth showe, that I haue (fleshly) sind.
Loe thus, hie and renowned king, Cassandra endes her tale,
And this is wicked Promos that hath wrought her endles bale.
King.
If this be true, so towle a deede, shall not vnpunisht goe,
How sayst thou Promos, to her playnte? arte giltye? yea, or noe?
Why speakst thou not? a faulty harte, thy scilence sure doth showe.
Pro.
My gilty hart commaunds my tongue. O king, to tell a truth,
I doe confesse this tale is true, and I deserue thy wrath.
King.
And is it so? this wicked deede, thou shalt ere long buy deare,
Cassandra, take comfort in care, be of good cheere:
Thy forced fault, was free from euill intent,
So long, no shame, can blot thee any way.
And though at ful, I hardly can content thee,
Yet as I may, assure thy selfe I wyl.
Thou wycked man, might it not thee suffice,
By worse then force, to spoyle her chastitie,
But heaping sinne on sinne against thy oth,
Haste cruelly, her brother done to death.
This ouer proofe, ne can but make me thinke,
That many waies thou hast my subiectes wrongd:
For how canst thou with Iustice vse thy swaie?
When thou thy selfe dost make thy will a lawe?
Thy tyrranny made mee, this progresse make,
How so, for sport tyll nowe I colloured it
Vnto this ende, that I might learne at large,
What other wronges by power, thou hast wrought,
[Page]And héere, I heare: the Ritche suppresse the poore:
So that it séemes, the best and thou art friendes:
I plaste thée not, to be a partiall Iudge.
Thy Offycers are couetous I finde,
By whose reportes, thou ouer culest sutes.
Then who that geues, an Item in the hande,
In ryght, and wrong, is sure of good successe.
Well, Varlet, well: too slowe I hether came,
To scourge, thy faultes, and salue the sores thou mad'st:
On thée vyle wretche, this sentence I pronounce.
That foorth with, thou shalt marrie Cassandra,
For to repayre hir honour, thou dydst waste:
The next daye thou shalt lose thy hated lyfe.
In penaunce, that thou mad'st hir Brother dye.
Pro.
My faultes were great, O King, yet graunt me mercie,
That nowe with bloody sighes, lament my sinnes too late.
King.
Hac facias alteri, quod tibi vis fieri:
Pittie was no plée Syr, when you in iudgement sate,
Prepare your selfe to dye, in vaine you hope for lyfe.
My Lordes, bring him with mée: Cassandra come you in like case▪
My selfe wyll sée, thy honour salu'd, in making thée his Wife,
The sooner to shorten his dayes.
All the company.
We wayte vpon your Grace.
¶ As the King is going out, a Poore man shall kneele in his waye.
KYng.
Syr Vlrico, I wyld, Commission should be made,
To Syr Anthony Alberto, and Iustice Diron,
To heare and determine, all sutes to be had
Betwene Maister Prostro, and this poore man: is it done?
Vlrico.
Renowned King, it is ready:
King.
Repayre to Syr Ʋlrico, for thy Commission:
All.
God preserue your Maiestie.
They all depart, saue the Clowne.
Clow.
Bones of me, a mā were better speak to great Lords chy sée,
Then to our proude, Iustlers of peace, that byn in the cuntry:
He that is rytch, as my dame sayth, goes away with the Hare.
This two yéere, they haue hard my matter, & yet cham nere ye néere.
And at first dash, a good fatte Lorde, God in heauen saue his life.
Fayth, for nothing, teld the King of Mas Prostros, and my strife.
O Leard, ych thought the King could not bide, on poore men to looke,
But God saue his Grace, at fyrst dash, my Supplycation he tooke:
And you hard, how gently, he calld mée poore man, and wild me goe,
For my Pasport, I kenne not what, to good syr Vlrico.
Well, chull goe fort, and hope to be with Master Prostros to bring:
But ere ych goe, chul my Ballat, of good King Coruine sing.
The Clownes Song.
YOu Barrons bolde, and lustie Lads,
Prepare to welcome, our good King:
VVhose comming so, his Subiectes glads,
As they for ioye, the Belles doo ryng.
They fryske, and skippe, in euerie place,
And happy he, can see his face.
VVho checks the rytch, that wrong by might,
And helpes the poore, vnto his right.
¶The loue that rygour gettes through feare,
VVith grace and mercie, he doth wyn:
For which we praye thus, euerie where,
Good Lorde preserue, our King Coruin.
His fauour raignes, in euerie place:
And happy he, can see his face.
Exit.
Actus 4.
Scena. 1.
¶ Gresco, a good substantiall Offycer, Two Beadelles in blew Coates, with Typestaues.
Gresco.
Come loytring knaues, spéede about your businesse.
Fetche mee in, all ydle vacaboundes.
First.
Yes syr yes:
Gres.
Searche Ducke alley, Cocke lane, and Sc [...]uldes corner,
About your charge, lets see, howe you can sturre.
Sec.
Yes, I haue winges in my heeles to flee.
First.
Who giues two pence, a straunge Monster to sée.
Sec.
What Monster?
First.
A horned Beast, with winges vpon his heeles.
Sec.
Out dronken dreule?
Gres.
What? runnes your heades a wheeles?
Be packing bothe, and that betymes you are best.
First.
We are gone Syr, we dyd but speake in ieast.
Exeunt. Beadelles.
Gres.
The King, I sayth, hath set vs all a worke,
To searche odde holes, where ydle varlettes lurke.
He so nypped, our Maior for yll rule:
As euer since, he hath bene lyke to whule.
And in a rage, the man is nowe so whotte,
As lewde personnes, tagge, and ragge, goes to potte.
But in chiefe, he stormes, at fine Mistrisse Lamia.
She drinkes, for all, come she once in his waye.
And least she scape, my selfe forsooth he wylles,
Worshipfullie to fetche hir, with fortie Bylles.
Well, I must goe, and worke our Maiors beast,
No force, for once, she wyll neuer be honest.
Exit.
Actus. 4. Scena. 2.
Andrugio, as out of the vvooddes, with Bowe and Arrowes, and a Cony at his gyrdle.
AN.
This sauage life, were hard to brooke, if hope no cōfort gaue:
But I (whose life, frō Tyrants wrath, Gods prouidēce did saue,
Do take in worth this misery, as penaunce for my mys:
Stil fed with hope to chaūge this state, when Gods good pleasure is.
A hollow Caue for house, and bed, in worth Andrugio takes,
Such sorie foode, as fortune sendes, he syldome nowe forsakes.
I am my selfe forsoothe, nowe Butcher, Cooke, Cater and all:
Yea, often tymes I fall to sléepe, with none, or supper small.
Then in my Denne, I call to minde, the lyfe I lyu'de in blisse:
And by the want I fréedome iudge, the greatest ioye that is.
The fréeman is in viewe of friendes, to haue release in néede:
The exyle, though he haue no lacke, yet lyues he styll in dréede
That his mysdéedes, wyll hardly scape, the punishment of lawe:
And lyuing, he were better dead, that lyueth in this awe,
Besides this feare, which neuer fayles, the banisht man in want,
As ofte he is, is sure to finde his succor's verie scant.
Then who is he so mad, that friendes, and fréedome doth enioye?
That wyll aduenture breach of lawe, to lyue in this annoye?
And not annoye to him alone, but to his friendes and kyn:
Great be the cares, Cassandra, and Polina lyueth in.
Through thought, of me, whom long agone, beheaded they suppose,
For my offence, thus are they scorgde, yet dare I not disclose
My safetie, for their helpe: but harke, who commeth here?
This chaunce séemes strange: God graunt good newes, I hope, and yet I feare.
Iohn Adroynes a Clowne, Andrugio.
IOhn.
If che could finde my Mare, che would be rusty by the rood,
And cham sure the hoorechup, is peaking in this wood.
Thy wyl séeke euery corner, but che wyll find her.
He whistlyng lookes vp and downe the stage.
An.
This clowne can hardly mée bewray, and yet such dunghyll churles,
Such newes, as is in market tounes, about the country whorles.
What séekes thou good fellow?
Iohn.
My sqawde Mare, dost her know?
An.
No.
Iohn.
Then scummer mée not, in haste ych goe,
Séeke my Mare, to sée the sport at Iulio.
An.
What sport?
Iohn.
A lyttel sport.
An.
What?
Iohn.
Nay skyl not a whit?
An.
What meanes this Asse?
Iohn.
T'wyll teache the hoorecup wyt.
H'yll hang, handsome young men for the foote sinne of loue,
When so his knauery, himselfe, a bawdy iack doth proue.
An.
His wordes séemeth straunge, somwhat is a wry.
Iohn.
VVel, chyll sée his shoulders, from's iowle to flye.
An.
VVhose shoulders friend?
Iohn.
As though you dyd know.
An.
VVhome?
Iohn.
Lord Promos.
An.
Yes: my most accursed foe: But what of him?
Iohn.
Thou kenst.
An.
No.
Iohn.
Sayst not, yes,
An.
Yes:
Iohn.
So,
An.
But friend thou took'st my wordes amys,
I know nothing, in what state Promos is.
Iohn.
Thou knowst, and thou knowest not: out horson foole,
Leaue stealing Cunnyes, and get thee to scoole,
Farewell.
An.
Soft.
Iohn.
O to arte no foole good théefe:
Saue my mony take my life.
An.
Tush be breefe.
Some newes, of lewde Lord Promos tell mée,
And wyth lyfe and mony, yle set thee free.
Iohn.
I wyll thou knowst the King now at Iulio.
An.
Very well.
Iohn.
Thou canst tel as wel as I.
Let me goe:
An.
Nay yle see if thou dost lye.
If thou dost yle whip thee, when thou hast done.
Iohn.
Kissyng and lying, ich see is all one:
And chaue no mony, chul tell true therfore.
An.
Dispatch then.
Iohn.
Then, lying Promoter, this more:
Casgandra scusde, Promos of honestie:
And killyng Ramstrugio for baudry.
An.
What more?
Iohn.
The king at Promos, great pleasure did take,
And Casgandra, an honest woman to make:
The King maunded him, her strayght to marry,
And for killyng her brother, he must dye.
An.
Is this true?
Iohn.
Why? how say you? doe I lye?
An.
Well, so or noe, for thy newes haue this connie.
Iohn.
Gods boores, geue it me, to be swete, tis to cheape,
But Lady yet, tyll sunday it will keepe:
Well, now god bwye, Mas lying Promoter,
Wees see at the soort.
An.
I peraduenture.
Iohn.
Since can not finde my Mare, on foote chull goe:
Ych thinke, each daye a nowre, to be at Iulio.
Exit.
An.
Straunge are the newes, the Clowne hath showne to me:
Not straunge a whyt, if they well scanned be.
For God we see, styll throwes the Tyrant downe:
Euen in the heyght, and pride of his renowne,
Lorde Promos rule, nay, tyranny in deede,
For Iudges is a mirror, worthy héede.
The wretched man, with showe of Iustice zeale,
Throughly dyd, with poore offenders deale.
The wicked man, both, knewe, and iudg'd, abuse:
And none so much, as he her faultes dyd vse.
He fellons hang'd, yet by extorcion, stoale:
He wantons plag'd, himselfe a doating foole.
He others checkt, for suing for their right:
And he himselfe, mayntained wrongs by might.
But sée the rule of mischiefe, in his pride:
He headlong falles, when least, he thought to slide.
Well, by his fall, I maye perhaps aryse:
Andrugio yet, in clyming be thou wyse.
What? styll vnknowne, shall I liue in this wood?
Not so.
Go wraye these newes, no doubt, vnto my good.
Yet ere I go, I wyll my selfe disguise,
As in the Towne, in spyte of Linxes eyes.
I wyll vnknowne, learne howe the game doth go,
But ere I go, syth eased is my woe:
My thankes to God, I first in song wyll shoe.
Andrugios Song.
TO thee O Lorde, with harte, and voyce I syng,
VVhose mercie great, from mone to sweete delight▪
From griefe to ioye, my troubled soule doest bring,
Yea, more thy wrath, hath foylde my foe in syght.
VVho sought my lyfe (which thou O God didst saue)
Thy scorge hath brought, vntimelie to his graue.
VVhose griefe wyll gawle, a thousande Iudges more,
And wyll them see, them selues, and sentence iust:
When blacke reproche, this thundring shame shall shoe,
A Iudge condemde for murder, thefte, and luste.
This scorge, O God, the lewde in feare wyll bring,
The iust for ioye, thy prayses lowde wyll syng.
Exit.
Gresco, with three other, with bylles, bringing in Lamia prisoner.
GRes.
Come on faire Dame, since faire words, works no héede,
Now fowle meanes shall: in you repentaunce bréede.
La.
Maister Gresco, where you maye helpe, hurt not.
Gres.
And nothing but chastment, wyll helpe you to amende,
Well, I wyll not hurt you, your lewdnes to defende.
La.
My lewdnes Syr: what is the difference,
Betwixt wantons, and hoorders of pence?
Gres.
Thou hast winde at wyll, but in thy eyes no water:
Tho' arte full of Grace, howe she blusheth at the matter.
La.
Howe sample I, your wyfe and daughter Syr?
Gres.
Are mee, when whypping hath chaung'd thy Nature.
La.
What whypping? why? am I a Horse, or a Mare?
Gres.
No, but a beast, that méetelie well wyll bare.
La.
In déede (as) nowe, perforce, I beare this flowt:
But vse me well, else I fayth, gette I out,
Looke for quittaunce.
Byl. (First Bilm)
Binde hir to the Peace Syr,
So maye your Worship be out of daunger.
Gres.
Bring hir awaye, I knowe howe to tame hir.
La.
Perhaps Syr, no: the worst is but shame hir.
Byl. (Secōd Bilm)
Come ye drab.
La.
Howe nowe scab? bandes of my Gowne.
Byl. (Third Bil.)
Care not for this, yuse haue a blew one soone.
Exeunt. Cassandra.
CAs. (Cassandra.)
Vnhappy Wench, the more I séeke, for to abandone griefe,
The furder off, I wretched finde, both comfort and reliefe.
My Brother first, for wanton faultes, condempned was to dye:
To saue whose life, my sute, wrought hope of Grace, but haples I.
By such request, my honor spoyld, and gayned not his breath:
For which deceyte, I haue pursude, Lorde Promos vnto death.
Who is my Husbande nowe become, it pleasd our Soueraigne so,
For to repayre, my crased Fame: but that nowe workes my wo.
This day, he must (oh) léese his head, my Brothers death to quite,
And therin Fortune hath alas, showne me hir greatest spyte.
Nature wyld mée, my Brother loue, now dutie commaunds mée,
To preferre before kyn, or friend, my Husbands safetie.
But O, aye mée, by Fortune, I, am made his chiefest foe:
T'was I als, euen onely I. that wrought his ouerthroe.
What shall I doo, to worke amends, for this my haynous déede?
The tyme is short, my power small, his succors axeth spéede.
And shall I séeke, to saue his blood, that lately sought his lyfe?
O, yea I then was sworne his foe: but nowe as faithfull Wife,
I must and wyll, preferre his health, God sende me good successe:
For nowe vnto the King I wyll, my chaunged minde to expresse.
Exit.
PHal. (Phallax.)
Was euer man, set more fréer then I?
First went my goodes, then my Office dyd flye?
But had the King, set me frée from flattrie,
The next deare yeare, I might haue staru'd, perdie.
But Lorde Promos, hath a farre more fréer chaunce:
He free from Landes, goodes, and Office doth daunce:
And shalbe free from life, ere long, with a Launce.
The Officers, and chiefe men of Iulio:
Vengeaunce lyberall, themselues lykewise shoe.
Poore knaues, and queanes, that vp and downe do goe,
These horesen kinde crustes, in houses bestoe.
[Page]But yet, poore chéere, they haue: marry for heate,
They whyp them, vntyll verie blood they sweate.
But see, their cost bestowde of fyne Lamia,
To saue hir féete, from harde stones, and colde waye,
Into a Carte, they dyd the queane conuaye.
Apparelled, in collours verie gaye:
Both Hoode, and Gowne, of greene, and yellowe Saye.
Hir Garde weare Typstaues, all in blewe arraye.
Before hir a noyse of Basons dyd playe.
In this triumphe, she ryd well nye a daye.
Fie, fie, the Citie is so purged nowe:
As they of none, but honest men allowe,
So that farewell my parte, of thriuing there:
But the best is, flattrers lyue euerie where.
Set cocke on hoope, Domini est terra.
If thou can not where thou wouldst, lyue where thou maye.
Yes, yes Phallax, knoweth whether to go:
Nowe, God bwy ye all, bonest men of Iulio
As the Deuilles lykes, the company of Friers,
So flattrers loues as lyfe, to ioyne with lyers.
Actus. 5.
Scena. 1.
Andrugio, disguised in some long blacke Cloake.
AN.
These two dayes, I haue bene in Court disguis'd:
Where I haue learnd, the scorge that is deuis'd,
For Promos faulte, he my Syster spowsed hath,
To salue hir Fame, crackt by his breache of fayth.
And shortlie he, must lose his subtyll head:
For murdring me, whome no man thinkes but dead.
His wyll, was good: and therfore beshrewe mee,
If (mou'd with ruthe) I seeke, to set him free.
But softlie, with some newes, these fellowes come:
I wyll stande close, and heare both all and some.
Actus 5. Scena. 2.
Enter Vlrico, Marshall.
VL.
Marshall, heare you warrant is: with spéede,
The king commaundes, that Promos you behead.
Mar.
Sir, his highnesse wyll, shalbe forthwith done.
Exit. Marshall.
Vl.
The king welnye to pardon him was wonne,
His heauy wyfe, such stormes of teares did showre,
As myght, with rueth, haue moyst a stony hart.
But Promos guylt, dyd soone this grace deuoure.
Our gratious king, before hir wretched smart,
Preferd, the helth, of this our common weale:
But see againe, to sue for him she comes,
Her ruthfull lookes, her gréefe, doth force mée féele.
With hope, I must, hir sorrowes néedes delay:
Tyll Promos be dispacht out of the way.
Actus. 5. Scena. 3.
Cassandra.
CAs.
Syr Vlrico, if that my vnknowne gréefe,
May moue good mindes, to helpe mee to releefe,
Or bytter syghes, of comfort cleane dismayde,
May moue a man, a shiftlesse dame to ayde:
Rue of my teares, from true intent which flowe,
Vnto the king, with me, yet once more goe.
Sée if his grace, my husbands lyfe wyll saue,
If not, with his, death shall my corps ingraue.
Vl.
What shall I doe, her sorrowes to decreace?
Feede her, with hope: fayre dame, this mone surcease,
[Page]I see the king to grace is somewhat bent,
We once agayne thy sorrowes wyll present:
Come we wyl wayght for tyme, thy sute to show.
Cas.
Good knight, for time, doe not my sute foreslowe.
Whylst grasse, doth growe ofte sterues the seely stéede.
Vl.
Feare not, your Lorde, shal not dye with such spéede.
Exeunt.
Enter Andrugio.
An.
Lord God, how am I tormented in thought?
My sisters woe, such rueth in me doth graue:
As fayne I would (if ought saue death I caught)
Bewray my selfe, Lord Promos life to saue.
But lyfe is sweete, and naught but death I eye,
If that I should, my safety now disclose:
So that I chuse, of both the euels, he dye:
Time wyll appease, no dought, Cassandras woes,
And shal, I thus acquite Cassandras loue?
To worke her ioy? and shall I feare to dye?
Whylst, that she lyue, no comforte may remoue
Care from her harte, if that hir husband dye?
Then shall I stycke, to hasard lym? nay life?
To salue hir greefe, since in my cure it rests.
Nay fyrst, I wilbe spoyld, with blooddy knife,
Before, I fayle, her, plunged in distres.
Death, is but death, and all in fyne shall dye
Thus (being dead) my fame, shall liue alway:
Well, to the king, Andrugio now wyll hye,
Hap lyfe, hap death, his safety, to bewray.
Exit.
Actus. 5. Scena. 4.
The Marshall, three or fowre with halbards, Leading Promos to execution.
BYl. (A Bylmā.)
Roome friends, what meane you thus to gase on vs,
A comes behinde, makes all the sport I wus.
Pro.
Farewell, my friendes, take warning by my fall,
Disdaine my life, but lysten to my ende,
Fresh harmes, they say, the viewers so apall,
As oft they win, the wicked to amend.
I neede not heare, my faultes at large resyte,
Vntimely death, doth witnesse what I was:
A wicked man, which made eache wrong seeme right,
Euen as I would, was wrested euery case.
And thus long tyme, I liu'd and rule by wyl,
Where as I lou'd, their faultes, I would not sée:
Those I did hate, tenne tymes beyond there yll
I did persue, vyle wretch, with cruelty.
Yea dayly I, from bad, to worse did slyde,
The reason was, none durst, controule my lyfe:
But sée the fall, of mischeeue, in his pride.
My faultes, were knowne, and loe with bloddy Axe,
The headseman strayght, my wronges with death wyll quite:
The which, in worth I take, acknowledging,
The doome, was geuen, on cause, and not on spyte,
Wishing my ende, might serue for a warning.
For such as rule, and make their will a lawe,
If to such good, my faynting tale might tend,
Wretched Promos, the same would lenger draw:
But if that wordes preuayle, my wofull ende
From my huge faultes, then tenne times more wyll warne.
Forgeuenesse now, of all the world I craue,
Therewith that you, in zealous prayer, wyll
Beseeche of God, that I the grace may haue:
At latter gaspe, the feare of death to kyll.
Mar.
Forwards my Lord, me thinkes you fayntly goe.
Pro.
O syr, in my case, your selfe would be as slowe.
Actus. 5. Scena. 5.
Enter Cassandra, Polina, and one mayde.
CAs.
Aye me, alas: my hope is vntimely.
Whether goes my good Lord?
Pro.
Swéete wife, to dye.
Cas.
O wretched wench, where may I first complayne?
When heauen, and earth, agrees vpon my payne?
Pro.
This mone good wife, for Chrystes sake, forsake:
I late resolu'd, through feare of death, now quake.
Not so much, for my haynous sinnes forepast:
As for the greefe that present thou dost tast.
Cas.
Nay, I vile wretch, should most agréeued be,
Before thy time, thy death which hastened haue:
But (O swete husband) my fault forgeue mée.
And for amends, Ile helpe to fyll thy graue:
Pro.
Forgeue thee, ab: nay, for my soules reléefe,
Forget swéete wyfe, this thy most guyltles gréefe.
Mar.
My Lord Promos, these playntes, but moue hir mone,
And your more gréefe, it is best you ware gone:
Good Maddame way, by lawe, your Lord doth dye,
Wherefore make vertue of necessity:
Delay, but workes your sorrowes, and our blames,
So that now, to the comfort of these dames:
And your wisdome, inforced, we leaue you:
My Lord Promos, byd your wife and friends adew.
Pro.
Farewell, farewell, be of good cheare deare wyfe:
With ioy for woe, I shall exchange this life.
Andrugios death, Polina forgeue mée:
Poli.
I doe, and pray the Lord, to reléeue yée.
Cas.
Yet ere we part, sweete husband let vs kis,
O, at his lyppes, why fayleth not my breath?
Pro.
Leaue mone, swete wife. I doe deserue this death.
Farewell, farewell.
They all depart, saue Polina, Cassandra, and her vvoman.
CAs.
My louing Lorde, farewell,
I hope ere long, my soule with thine shall dwell.
Po.
Now, good Madame, leaue of this bootelesse griefe.
Cas.
O Polina, sorrowe is my reliefe.
Wherfore, sweete wenche, helpe me to rue my woe,
With me vyle wretche, thy bytter plaintes bestowe:
To hasten lyngring death, who wanteth might:
I sée, alone, to sley, the wretched wight.
Po.
Nay, first powre foorth your playnts, to the powers Diuine,
When hate, doth clowde, all worldly grace, whose mercies styll do shine.
Cas.
O, so or no, thy motion doeth well,
Swan lyke, in song, to towle my passing Bell.
The Song of Cassandra.
¶ Deare Dames diuorse, your minds frō ioy, helpe to bewayle my wo,
Condole with me, whose heauy sights, the pangs of death do shoe;
Rend heairs, shed teares, poore wēch distrest, to hast the means to dye,
VVhose ioye, annoy: reliefe, whose griefe, hath spoyld with crueltie.
My brother slaine, my husband ah, at poynt to lose his head,
VVhy lyue I then vnhappy wench, my suckers being dead?
O time, O cryme, O cause, O lawes, that Iudgd them thus to dye:
I blame, you all, my shame, my thrall, you hate that harmelesse trye.
This Tragidy they haue begun, conclude I vvretched must,
O vvelcome care, consume the thread, thereto my life doth trust:
Sound bell, my knell, avvay delaie, and geue mee leaue to dye,
Les hope, haue scope vnto my hart, a fresh for ayde to flye.
Enter Ganio sometime Andrugios Boye.
GA.
O swéete newes, for Polina and Cassandra. Andrugio lyues:
Po.
What doth poore Ganie saye?
Ga.
Andrugio lyues: and Promos is repriu'd.
Cas.
Vaine is thy hope, I sawe Andrugio dead.
Ga.
Well, then from death, he is againe reuyu'd.
Euen nowe, I sawe him, in the market stead.
Po.
His wordes are straunge.
Cas.
Too swéete, God wot, for true.
Ga.
I praye you, who are these here in your view?
Cas.
The King.
Ga.
Who more?
Po.
O. I see Andrugio.
Cas.
And I my Lorde Promos, adue sorrowe.
Enter the King, Andrugio, Promos, Ʋlrico, the Marthall.
PO.
My good Andrugio?
An.
My swéete Polina:
Cas.
Lyues Andrugio, welcome swéete brother.
An.
Cassandra?
Cas.
I.
An.
Howe fare, my deare Syster?
King.
Andrugio, you shall haue more leysure.
To gréete one another: it is our pleasure,
That you forthwith, your Fortunes here declare,
And by what meanes, you thus preserued weare.
An.
My faull, through loue, and iudgement for my faulte.
Lorde Promos wronges, vnto my Sister done.
My death supposde, dreade King, were vaine to tell.
Cassandra heare, those dealinges all hath showne.
The rest are these.
[Page]When I should dye, the Gayler mou'd to ruth,
Declard to mée, what Promos pleasure was:
Amazde wherat, I tolde him all the trueth,
What, betwene Cassandra, and him dyd passe.
He much agrieu'd, Lorde Promos guylt to heare,
Was verie lothe, mée (wofull man) to harme:
At length, iust God, to set me (wretched) cleare,
With this defence, his wylling minde dyd arme.
Two dayes afore, to death, were diuers done,
For seuerall faultes, by them committed:
So that of them, he tooke the head from one,
And to Cassandra, the same presented:
Affirming it, to be bir brothers head.
Which done, by night, he sent me post away,
None but supposed, that I in déde was dead:
When as in trueth, in vncouth hauntes I laye.
In fine, a Clowne, came peaking through the wood,
Wherin I lyu'd, your Graces being here:
And Promos death, by whome I vnderstood,
Glad of which newes, howe so I lyud in feare.
I ventured to sée his wretched fall:
To free suspect, yet straunger lyke arayde,
I hether came: but loe, the inwarde thrall
Of Cassandra, the hate, so sore dismayde.
Which I conceyued agaynst my brother Promos,
That loe, I chews'd, to yeeld my selfe to death,
To set him free: for otherwyse I knew,
His death ere long, would sure haue stopt her breath.
Loe gratious king, in breefe I here haue showne,
Such aduentures, as wretched I haue past:
Beseeching you with grace to thinke vpon,
The wight that wayles, his follyes at the last.
King.
A strange discourse, as straungely come to light,
Gods pleasure is, that thou should'st pardoned be:
To salue the fault, thou with Polina mad'st,
But marry her, and heare I set thee frée.
An.
Most gratious Prince, thereto I gladly grée:
Poli.
Polina, the happiest newes of all for thee.
Cas.
Most gratious King, with these my ioye to match,
Vouchsafe, to geue my dampned husbande lyfe.
King.
If I doo so, let him thanke thée his Wife:
Cassandra, I haue noted thy distresse,
Thy vertues eke, from first, vnto the last:
And glad I am, without offence it lyes,
In me to ease, thy griefe, and heauines.
Andrugio sau'd, the iuell of thy ioye,
And for thy sake, I pardon Promos faulte.
Yea let them both, thy vertues rare commende:
In that their woes, with this delyght doth ende.
Company.
God preserue your Maiestie.
Pro.
Cassandra, howe shall I discharge thy due?
Cas.
I dyd, but what a Wife, shoulde do for you.
King.
Well, fince all partes are pleased, as they woulde,
Before I parte, yet Promos, this to thee:
Henceforth, forethinke, of thy forepassed faultes,
And measure Grace, with Iustice euermore.
Vnto the poore, haue euermore an eye,
And let not might, out countenaunce their right:
Thy Officers, trust not in euery tale.
In chiefe, when they are meanes, in strifes and sutes,
Though thou be iust, yet coyne maye them corrupt.
And if by them, thou dost vniustice showe,
Tys thou shalt beare, the burden of their faultes.
Be louing to good Cassandra, thy Wife:
And friendlie to thy brother Andrugio,
Whome I commaund, as faythfull for to be
To thée, as beseemes the duety of a brother.
And now agayne, thy gouernment receyue,
Inioye it so, as thou in Iustice ioye.
If thou be wyse, thy fall maye make thee ryse.
[Page]The lost shéepe founde, for ioye, the feast was made.
Well, here an ende, of my aduise I make,
As I haue sayde, be good vnto the poore.
And Iustice ioyne, with mercie enermore.
Pro.
Most gratious King, I wyll not fayle my best,
In these preceptes, to followe your beheast.
FINIS.
G. Whetstone.
¶ Imprinted at London by Richarde Ihones, and are to be solde ouer agaynst Saint Sepulchres Church, without Newgate. August. 20. 1578.