Chapter XXVI: Appendix (4)

_Marg._ Why, thinks King Henries sonne that Margret's love
Hangs in the uncertaine ballance of proud time?
That death shall make a discord of our thoughts? 95
No, stab the earle, and fore the morning sun
Shall vaunt him thrice over the loftie east,
Margret will meet her Lacie in the heavens.

_Lacie._ If ought betides to lovely Marg[a]ret
That wrongs or wrings her honour from content, 100
Europes rich wealth nor Englands monarchie
Should not allure Lacie to overlive:
Then, Edward, short my life, and end her[1402] loves.

_Margret._ Rid me, and keepe a friend worth many loves.

_Lacie._ Nay, Edward, keepe a love worth many friends. 105

_Margret._ And if thy mind be such as fame hath blazde,
Then, princely Edward, let us both abide
The fatall resolution of thy rage:
Banish thou fancie, and imbrace revenge,
And in one toombe knit both our carkases, 110
Whose hearts were linked in one perfect love.

_Edward_ [_aside._] Edward, art thou that famous Prince of Wales,
Who at Damasco beat the Sarasens,
And broughtst home triumphe on thy launces point?
And shall thy plumes be puld by Venus downe? 115
Is it princely to dissever lovers leagues,[1403]
To part such friends as glorie in their loves?
Leave, Ned, and make a vertue of this fault,
And further Peg and Lacie in their loves:
So in subduing fancies passion, 120
Conquering thy selfe thou getst the richest spoile.--
Lacie, rise up. Faire Peggie, heeres my hand:
The Prince of Wales hath conquered all his thoughts,
And all his loves he yeelds unto the earle.
Lacie, enjoy the maid of Fresingfield; 125
Make her thy Lincolne countesse at the church,
And Ned, as he is true Plantagenet,
Will give her to thee franckly for thy wife.[1404]

_Lacie._ Humbly I take her of my soveraigne,
As if that Edward gave me Englands right, 130
And richt me with the Albion diadem.

_Margret._ And doth the English prince[1405] mean true?
Will he vouchsafe to cease his former loves,
And yeeld the title of a countrie maid
Unto Lord Lacie? 135

_Edward._ I will, faire Peggie, as I am true lord.

_Marg._ Then, lordly sir, whose conquest is as great,
In conquering love, as Cæsars victories,
Margret, as milde and humble in her thoughts
As was Aspatia[1406] unto Cirus selfe, 140
Yeelds thanks, and, next Lord Lacie, doth inshrine
Edward the second secret in her heart.

_Edw._ Gramercie, Peggie.--now that vowes are past,
And that your loves are not to[1407] be revolt,[1408]
Once, Lacie, friendes againe. Come, we will post 145
To Oxford; for this day the king is there,
And brings for Edward Castile Ellinor.
Peggie, I must go see and view my wife:
I pray God I like her as I loved thee.[1409]
Beside, Lord Lincolne, we shall heare dispute 150
Twixt Frier Bacon and learned Vandermast.
Peggie, weele leave you for a weeke or two.

_Margret._ As it please Lord Lacie: but loves foolish looks
Thinke footsteps miles and minutes to be houres.

_Lacie._ Ile hasten, Peggie, to make short returne.-- 155
But please your honour goe unto the lodge,
We shall have butter, cheese, and venison;
And yesterday I brought for Marg[a]ret
A lustie bottle of neat clarret wine:
Thus can we feast and entertaine your grace. 160

_Edward._ Tis cheere, Lord Lacie, for an emperour,
If he respect the person and the place.
Come, let us in; for I will all this night
Ride post untill I come to Bacons cell. _Exeunt._

[Scene Ninth. _Oxford._]

_Enter_ HENRIE, EMPEROUR, CASTILE, ELLINOR, VANDERMAST, BUNGAY.

_Emperour._ Trust me, Plantagenet, these Oxford schooles
Are richly seated neere the river side:
The mountaines[1410] full of fat and fallow deere,
The batling[1411] pastures laid[1412] with kine and flocks,
The towne gorgeous with high built colledges, 5
And schollers seemely in their grave attire,
Learned in searching principles of art.--
What is thy judgement, Jaquis Vandermast?

_Vandermast._ That lordly are the buildings of the towne,
Spatious the romes, and full of pleasant walkes; 10
But for the doctors, how that they be learned,
It may be meanly, for ought I can heere.

_Bungay._ I tell thee, Germane, Haspurge holds none such,
None red so deepe as Oxenford containes:
There are within our accademicke state 15
Men that may lecture it in Germanie
To all the doctors of your Belgicke schools.

_Henrie._ Stand to him, Bungay, charme this Vandermast,
And I will use thee as a royall king.

_Vandermast._ Wherein darest thou dispute with me? 20

_Bungay._ In what a doctor and a friar can.

_Vandermast._ Before rich Europes worthies put thou forth
The doubtfull question unto Vandermast.

_Bungay._ Let it be this,--Whether the spirites of piromancie or
geomancie be most predominant in magick? 25

_Vander._ I say, of piromancie.

_Bungay._ And I, of geomancie.

_Vander._ The cabbalists that wright of magick spels,
As Hermes,[1413] Melchie,[1414] and Pithagoras,
Affirme that, mongst the quadruplicitie 30
Of elementall essence, _terra_ is but thought
To be a _punctum_ squarèd to[1415] the rest;
And that the compasse of ascending eliments
Exceed in bignesse as they doe in height;
Judging the concave circle of the sonne 35
To hold the rest in his circomference.
If, then, as Hermes saies, the fire be greatst,
Purest, and onely giveth shape to spirites
Then must these demones that haunt that place
Be every way superiour to the rest. 40

_Bungay._ I reason not of elementall shapes,
Nor tell I of the concave lattitudes,
Noting their essence nor their qualitie,
But of the spirites that piromancie calles,
And of the vigour of the geomanticke fiends. 45
I tell thee, Germane, magicke haunts the grounds,[1416]
And those strange necromantick spels
That worke such shewes and wondering in the world
Are acted by those geomanticke spirites
That Hermes calleth _terræ filii_. 50
The fierie spirits are but transparant shades,
That lightly passe as heralts to beare newes;
But earthly fiends, closd in the lowest deepe,
Dissever mountaines, if they be but chargd,
Being more grose and massie in their power. 55

_Vander._ Rather these earthly geomantike spirits
Are dull and like the place where they remaine;
For when proud Lucipher fell from the heavens,
The spirites and angels that did sin with him,
Retaind their locall essence as their faults, 60
All subject under _Lunas_ continent:
They which offended lesse hang[1417] in the fire,
And second faults did rest within the aire;
But Lucifer and his proud hearted fiends
Were throwne into the center of the earth, 65
Having lesse understanding than the rest,
As having greater sinne and lesser grace.
Therfore such grosse and earthly spirits doe serve
For juglers, witches, and vild[1418] sorcerers;
Whereas the piromantike genii[1419] 70
Are mightie, swift, and of farre reaching power.
But graunt that geomancie hath most force;
Bungay, to please these mightie potentates,
Proove by some instance what thy art can doe.

_Bungay._ I will. 75

_Emper._ Now, English Harry, here begins the game;
We shall see sport betweene these learned men.

_Vandermast._ What wilt thou doe?

_Bung._ Shew thee the tree, leavd with refined gold,
Wheron the fearfull dragon held his seate, 80
That watcht the garden cald Hesperides[1420]
Subdued and wonne by conquering Hercules.

_Vandermast._ Well done![1421]

_Here_ BUNGAY _conjures, and the Tree appeares with the Dragon
shooting fire._

_Henrie._ What say you, royall lordings,[1422] to my frier?
Hath he not done a point of cunning skill? 85

_Vander._ Ech scholler in the nicromantike spels
Can doe as much as Bungay hath performd:
But as Alcmenas basterd ras'd[1423] this tree,
So will I raise him up as when he lived,
And cause him pull the dragon from his seate, 90
And teare the branches peecemeale from the roote.--
Hercules! _Prodi,_[1424] _prodi_, Hercules!

HERCULES _appeares in his Lions skin_.

_Hercules._ _Quis me vult?_

_Vandermast._ Joves bastard sonne, thou Libian Hercules,
Pull off the sprigs from off[1425] the Hesperian tree, 95
As once thou didst to win the golden fruit.

_Hercules._ _Fiat._

_Heere he begins to breake the branches._

_Vander._ Now, Bungay, if thou canst by magicke charme
The fiend, appearing like great Hercules,
From pulling downe the branches of the tree, 100
Then art thou worthy[1426] to be counted learned.

_Bungay._ I cannot.

_Vander._ Cease, Hercules, untill I give thee charge.--
Mightie commander of this English Ile,
Henrie, come from the stout Plantagenets, 105
Bungay is learned enough to be a frier;
But to compare with Jaquis Vandermast,
Oxford and Cambridge must go seeke their celles
To find a man to match him in his art.
I have given _non-plus_ to the Paduans, 110
To them of Sien,[1427] Florence, and Bologna,[1428]
Reimes,[1429] Louain, and faire Rotherdam,
Franckford, Lutrech,[1430] and Orleance:
And now must Henrie, if he do me right,
Crowne me with laurell, as they all have done. 115

_Enter_ BACON.

_Bacon._ All haile to this roiall companie,[1431]
That sit to heare and see this strange dispute!--
Bungay, how standst thou as a man amazd?
What, hath the Germane acted more than thou?

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

_Bacon._ Men call me Bacon.

_Vander._ Lordly thou lookest, as if that thou wert learnd;
Thy countenance as if science held her seate
Betweene the circled arches of thy browes.

_Henrie._ Now, Monarcks, hath the Germain found his match.

_Emperour._ Bestirre thee, Jaquis, take not now the foile,[1432] 126
Least thou doest loose what foretime thou didst gaine.

_Vandermast._ Bacon, wilt thou dispute?

_Bacon._ Noe,[1431] unlesse he were more learnd than Vandermast:
For yet, tell me, what hast thou done? 130

_Vandermast._ Raisd Hercules to ruinate that tree
That Bongay mounted by his magicke spels.

_Bacon._ Set Hercules to worke.

_Vander._ Now, Hercules, I charge thee to thy taske;
Pull off the golden branches from the roote. 135

_Hercules._ I dare not. Seest thou not great Bacon heere,
Whose frowne doth act more than thy magicke can?

_Vandermast._ By all the thrones, and dominations,
Vertues, powers, and mightie hierarchies,[1433]
I charge thee to obey to Vandermast. 140

_Hercules._ Bacon, that bridles headstrong Belcephon,
And rules Asmenoth, guider of the north,
Bindes me from yeelding unto Vandermast.

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

_Vandermast._ Never before wast knowne to Vandermast 145
That men held devils in such obedient awe.
Bacon doth more than art, or els I faile.

_Emperour._ Why, Vandermast, art thou overcome?--
Bacon, dispute with him, and trie his skill.

_Bacon._ I come[1434] not, Monarckes, for to hold dispute 150
With such a novice as is Vandermast;
I came[1435] to have your royalties to dine
With Frier Bacon heere in Brazennose;
And, for this Germane troubles but the place,
And holds this audience with a long suspence, 155
Ile send him to his accademie hence.--
Thou, Hercules, whom Vandermast did raise,
Transport the Germane unto Haspurge straight,
That he may learne by travaile, gainst the spring,[1436]
More secret doomes and aphorisms of art. 160
Vanish the tree, and thou away with him!

_Exit the Spirit with_ VANDERMAST _and the Tree._

_Emperour._ Why, Bacon, whether doest thou send him?

_Bacon._ To Haspurge: there your highnesse at returne
Shall finde the Germane in his studie safe.

_Henrie._ Bacon, thou hast honoured England with thy skill, 165
And made faire Oxford famous by thine art:
I will be English Henrie to thy selfe;--
But tell me, shall we dine with thee to-day?

_Bacon._ With me, my lord; and while I fit my cheere,
See where Prince Edward comes to welcome you, 170
Gratious as[1437] the morning starre of heaven. [_Exit._

_Enter_ EDWARD, LACIE, WARREN, ERMSBIE.

_Emperour._ Is this Prince Edward, Henries royall sonne?
How martiall is the figure of his face!
Yet lovely and beset with amorets.[1438]

_Henrie._ Ned, where hast thou been? 175

_Edward._ At Framingham, my lord, to trie your buckes
If they could scape the[1439] teisers or the toile.
But hearing of these lordly potentates
Landed, and prograst up to Oxford towne,
I posted to give entertaine to them: 180
Chiefe to the Almaine monarke; next to him,
And joynt with him, Castile and Saxonie
Are welcome as they may be to the English court.
Thus for the men: but see, Venus appeares,
Or one that overmatcheth[1440] Venus in her shape! 185
Sweete Ellinor, beauties highswelling pride,
Rich natures glorie and her wealth at once,
Faire of all faires, welcome to Albion;
Welcome to me, and welcome to thine owne,
If that thou dainst the welcome from my selfe. 190

_Ellinor._ Martiall Plantagenet, Henries high minded sonne,
The marke that Ellinor did count her aime,
I likte thee fore I saw thee: now I love,
And so as in so short a time I may;
Yet so as time shall never breake that so, 195
And therefore so accept of Ellinor.

_Castile._ Feare not, my lord, this couple will agree,
If love may creepe into their wanton eyes:--
And therefore, Edward, I accept thee heere,
Without suspence, as my adopted sonne. 200

_Henrie._ Let me that joy in these consorting greets,
And glorie in these honors done to Ned,
Yeeld thankes for all these favours to my sonne,
And rest a true Plantagenet to all.

_Enter_ MILES _with a cloth and trenchers and salt._

_Miles._ _Salvete, omnes reges_, that govern your _greges_,[1441] 205
In Saxonie and Spaine, in England and in Almaine!
For all this frolicke rable must I cover the[1442] table
With trenchers, salt, and cloth; and then looke for your
broth.

_Emperour._ What pleasant fellow is this?

_Henrie._ Tis, my lord, Doctor Bacons poore scholler. 210

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

_Castile._ These schollers knowes more skill in actiomes, 215
How to use quips and sleights of sophistrie,
Than for to cover courtly for a king.

[_Re_]_enter_ MILES _with a message of pottage and broth; and, after
him_, BACON.

_Miles._ Spill, sir? why, doe you thinke I never carried twopeny
chop[1444] before in my life?----
By your leave, _nobile decus_, for here comes Doctor Bacons
_pecus_,[1445]
Being in his full age to carrie a messe of pottage. 221

_Bacon._ Lordings, admire not if your cheere be this,
For we must keepe our accademicke fare;
No riot where Philosophie doth raine:
And therefore, Henrie, place these potentates, 225
And bid them fall unto their frugall cates.

_Emp._ Presumptuous Frier! what, scoffst thou at a king?
What, doest thou taunt us with thy pesants fare,
And give us cates fit[1446] for countrey swaines?----
Henrie, proceeds this jest of thy consent, 230
To twit us with such[1447] a pittance of such price?
Tell me, and Fredericke will not greeve the[e] long.

_Henrie._ By Henries honour, and the royall faith
The English monarcke beareth to his friend,
I knew not of the frier's feeble fare, 235
Nor am I pleasd he entertaines you thus.

_Bacon._ Content thee, Fredericke, for I shewd the[1448] cates,
To let thee see how schollers use to feede;
How little meate refines our English wits.----
Miles, take away, and let it be thy dinner. 240

_Miles._ Marry, sir, I wil. This day shall be a festival day with
me;[1449]
For I shall exceed in the highest degree. [_Exit_ MILES.]

_Bacon._ I tell thee, monarch, all the Germane peeres
Could not affoord thy entertainment such,
So roiall and so full of maiestie, 245
As Bacon will present to Fredericke;
The basest waiter that attends thy cups
Shall be in honours greater than thy selfe;
And for thy cates, rich Alexandria drugges[1450]
Fecht by carveils[1451] from Aegypts richest straights, 250
Found in the wealthy strond of Affrica,
Shall royallize the table of my king;
Wines richer than the Gyptian courtisan
Quaft to Augustus kingly countermatch,
Shalbe carrowst in English Henries feasts; 255
Candie shall yeeld the richest of her canes;
Persia, downe her volga[1452] by canows,
Send down the secrets of her spicerie;
The Africke dates, mirabolanes[1453] of Spaine,
Conserves and suckets[1454] from Tiberias, 260
Cates from Judea, choiser than the lampe[1455]
That fiered Rome with sparkes of gluttonie,
Shall bewtifie the board for[1456] Fredericke:
And therfore grudge not at a frier's feast. [_Exeunt._]

[Scene Tenth. _Near the Keepers lodge in Fresingfield._]

_Enter two gentlemen_, LAMBERT _and_ SERLSBY[1457] _with the_ Keeper.

_Lambert._ Come, frolicke keeper of our lieges game,
Whose table spred hath ever venison
And jacks[1458] of wines to welcome passengers,
Know I am in love with jolly Marg[a]ret,
That over-shines our damsels as the moone 5
Darkneth the brightest sparkles of the night.
In Laxfield[1459] heere my land and living lies:
Ile make thy daughter joynter[1460] of it all,
So thou consent to give her to my wife;
And I can spend five hundreth markes a yeare. 10

_Serlbie._ I am the landslord,[1461] Keeper, of thy holds,
By coppie all thy living lies in me;
Laxfield did never see me raise my due:
I will infeofe faire Marg[a]ret in all,
So she will take her to a lustie squire. 15

_Keeper._ Now, courteous gent[i]ls, if the keepers girle
Hath pleasd the liking fancie of you both,
And with her beutie hath subdued your thoughts,
Tis doubtfull to decide the question.
It joyes me that such men of great esteeme 20
Should lay their liking on this base estate,
And that her state should grow so fortunate
To be a wife to meaner men than you:
But sith such squires will stoop to keepers fee,[1462]
I will, to avoid displeasure of you both, 25
Call Margret forth, and she shall make her choise. _Exit._

_Lambert._ Content,[1463]--Keeper; send her unto us.
Why, Serlsby, is thy wife so lately dead,
Are all thy loves so lightly passed over,
As thou canst wed before the yeare be[1464] out? 30

_Serlsby._ I live not, Lambert, to content the dead,
Nor was I wedded but for life to her:
The grave[1465] ends and begins a maried state.

_Enter_ MARGRET.

_Lambert._ Peggie, the lovelie flower of all townes,
Suffolks fair Hellen, and rich Englands star, 35
Whose beautie, tempered with her huswiferie,
Maks England talke of merry Frisingfield!

_Serlsby._ I cannot tricke it up with poesies,
Nor paint my passions with comparisons,
Nor tell a tale[1466] of Phebus and his loves: 40
But this beleve me,--Laxfield here is mine,
Of auncient rent seven hundred pounds a yeare,
And if thou canst but love a countrie squire,
I will infeoffe thee, Marg[a]ret, in all:
I cannot flatter; trie me, if thou please. 45

_Mar._ Brave neighbouring squires, the stay of Suffolks clime,
A keepers daughter is too base in gree[1467]
To match with men accoumpted of such worth:
But might I not displease, I would reply.

_Lambert._ Say, Peggy; nought shall make us discontent. 50

_Mar._ Then, gentils, note that love hath little stay,
Nor can the flames that Venus sets on fire
Be kindled but by fancies motion:
Then pardon, gentils, if a maids reply
Be doubtful, while I have debated with my selfe 55
Who, or of whome, love shall constraine me like.

_Serlsby._ Let it be me; and trust me, Marg[a]ret,
The meads invironed with the silver streames,
Whose batling pastures fatneth[1468] all my flockes,
Yeelding forth fleeces stapled[1469] with such woole 60
As Lempster cannot yeelde more finer stuffe,
And fortie kine with faire and burnisht[1470] heads,
With strouting[1471] duggs, that paggle[1472] to the ground,
Shall serve thy da[i]ry, if thou wed with me.

_Lambert._ Let passe the countrie wealth, as flocks and kine, 65
And lands that wave with _Ceres_ golden sheves,
Filling my barnes with plentie of the fieldes;
But, Peggie, if thou wed thy selfe to me,
Thou shall have garments of imbrodred silke,
Lawnes, and rich networks for thy head attyre: 70
Costlie shalbe thy fa[i]re abiliments,
If thou wilt be but Lamberts loving wife.

_Margret._ Content you, gentles, you have proferd faire,
And more than fits a countrie maids degree:
But give me leave to counsaile me a time, 75
For fancie bloomes not at the first assault;
Give me ...[1473]but ten days' respite, and I will replye,
Which or to whom my selfe affectionats.

_Serlsby._ Lambert, I tell thee, thourt importunate;
Such beautie fits not such a base esquire: 80
It is for Serlsby to have Marg[a]ret.

_Lamb._ Thinkst thou with wealth to over reach me?
Serlsby, I scorne to brooke thy country braves:
I dare thee, coward, to maintaine this wrong,
At dint of rapier, single in the field. 85

_Serlsby._ Ile aunswere, Lambert, what I have avoucht.--
Margret, farewel; another time shall serve. _Exit_ SERLSBY.

_Lambert._ Ile follow.--Peggie, farewell to thy selfe;
Listen how well Ile answer for thy love. _Exit_ LAMBERT.

_Margeret._ How fortune tempers lucky happes with frowns, 90
And wrongs[1474] me with the sweets of my delight!
Love is my blisse, and love is now my bale.
Shall I be Hellen in my forward[1475] fates,
As I am Hellen in my matchles hue,
And set rich Suffolke with my face afire? 95
If lovely Lacie were but with his Peggy?
The cloudie darckenesse of his bitter frowne
Would check the pride of those aspiring squires.
Before the terme of ten dayes be expired,
When as they looke for aunswere of their loves, 100
My lord will come to merry Frisingfield,
And end their fancies and their follies both.--
Til when, Peggie, be blith and of good cheere.

_Enter a_ Post _with a letter and a bag of gold._

_Post._ Fair lovely damsell, which way leads this path?
How might I post me unto Frisingfield? 105
Which footpath leadeth to the keepers lodge?

_Margeret._ Your way is ready, and this path is right:
My selfe doe dwell hereby in Frisingfield;
And if the keeper be the man you seeke,
I am his daughter: may I know the cause?

_Post._ Lovely, and once beloved of my lord,--
No mervaile if his eye was lodgd so low,
When brighter bewtie is not in the heavens:
The Lincolne earle hath sent you letters here,
And, with them, just an hundred pounds in gold. 115
Sweete, bonny wench, read them, and make reply.

_Margret._ The scrowls that Jove sent Danae,
Wrapt in rich closures of fine burnisht gold,
Were not more welcome than these lines to me.
Tell me, whilst that I doe unrip the seales, 120
Lives Lacie well? how fares my lovely lord?

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

_The letter and_ MARGRET _reads it._

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

_Not thine, nor his owne_,
EDWARD LACIE.

Fond Atæ, doomer of bad boading fates, 137
That wrappes[1477] proud Fortune in thy snaky locks,
Didst thou inchaunt my byrth-day with such stars
As lightned mischeefe from their infancie? 140
If heavens had vowd, if stars had made decree,
To shew on me their froward influence,
If Lacie had but lovd, heavens, hell, and all,
Could not have wrongd the patience of my minde.

_Post._ It grieves me, damsell; but the earle is forst 145
To love the lady by the kings command.

_Margret._ The wealth combinde within the English shelves,[1478]
Europes commaunder, nor the English king,
Should not have movde the love of Peggie from her lord.[1479]

_Post._ What answere shall I returne to my lord? 150

_Margret._ First, for thou cam'st from Lacie whom I lovd,--
Ah, give me leave to sigh at every[1480] thought!--
Take thou, my friend, the hundred pound he sent;
For Margrets resolution craves no dower:
The world shalbe to her as vanitie; 155
Wealth, trash; love, hate; pleasure, dispaire:
For I will straight to stately Fremingham,
And in the abby there be shorne a nun,
And yeld my loves and libertie to God.
Fellow, I give thee this, not for the newes, 160
For those be hatefull unto Marg[a]ret,
But for thart Lacies man, once Margrets love.

_Post._ What I have heard, what passions I have seene,
Ile make report of them unto the Earle. [_Exit_ POST.]

_Margret._ Say that she joyes his fancies be at rest, 165
And praies that his misfortune[1481] may be hers. _Exit._

[Scene Eleventh. _Frier Bacons cell._]

_Enter_ FRIER BACON _drawing the courtaines with a white stick, a booke in his hand, and a lampe lighted by him; and the_ Brasen Head, _and_ MILES _with weapons by him._

_Bacon._ Miles, where are you?

_Miles._ Here, sir.

_Bacon._ How chaunce you tarry so long?

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

_Bacon._ Miles, thou knowst that I have dived into hell,
And sought the darkest pallaces of fiendes;
That with my magic spels great Belcephon
Hath left his lodge and kneeled at my cell; 10
The rafters of the earth rent from the poles,
And three-formd Luna hid her silver looks,
Trembling upon her concave contenent,[1483]
When Bacon red upon his magick booke.
With seven years tossing nigromanticke charmes, 15
Poring upon darke Hecats principles,
I have framd out a monstrous head of brasse,
That, by the inchaunting forces of the devil,
Shall tell out strange and uncoth Aphorismes,
And girt faire England with a wall of brasse. 20
Bungay and I have watcht these threescore dayes,
And now our vitall spirites crave some rest:
If Argos[1484] livd, and had his hundred eyes,
They could not overwatch Phobeters[1485] night.
Now, Miles, in thee rests Frier Bacons weale; 25
The honour and renowne of all his life
Hangs in the watching of this Brazen-Head;
Therefore I charge thee by the immortall God,
That holds the soules of men within his fist,[1486]
This night thou watch; for ere the morning star 30
Sends out his glorious glister on the north,
The head will speake: then, Miles, upon thy life,
Wake me; for then by magick art Ile worke
To end my seven yeares taske with excellence.
If that a winke[1487] but shut thy watchfull eye, 35
Then farewell Bacons glory and his fame!
Draw closse the courtaines, Miles: now, for thy life,
Be watchfull, and-- _Here he falleth asleepe._

_Miles._ So; I thought you would talke your selfe a sleepe anon;
and 'tis no mervaile, for Bungay on the dayes, and he on the
nights, have watcht just these ten and fifty dayes: now this is
the night, and tis my taske, and no more. Now, Jesus blesse me,
what a goodly head it is! and a nose! you talke of _nos autem
glorificare_;[1488] but heres a nose that I warrant may be cald
_nos autem popelare_[1489] for the people of the parish. Well,
I am furnished with weapons: now, sir, I will set me downe by a
post, and make it as good as a watch-man to wake me, if I chaunce
to slumber. I thought, Goodman Head, I would call you out of your
_memento_[1490] ...[1491] Passion a God, I have almost broke my
pate![1492] Up, Miles, to your taske; take your browne bill[1493]
in your hand; heeres some of your maister's hobgoblins abroad. 51

_With this a great noise. The_ HEAD _speakes._

_Head._ Time is.

_Miles._ Time is! Why, Master Brazenhead, you have such a
capitall nose, and answer you with sillables, 'Time is'? Is this
my all[1494] maister's cunning, to spend seven years studie
about 'Time is'? Well, sir, it may be we shall have some better
orations of it anon: well, Ile watch you as narrowly as ever you
were watcht, and Ile play with you as the nightingale with the
slowworme;[1495] Ile set a pricke against my brest. Now rest
there, Miles.... Lord have mercy upon me, I have almost killd my
selfe.[1496] Up, Miles; list how they rumble. 61

_Head._ Time was.

_Miles._ Well, Frier Bacon, you spent[1497] your seven yeares studie
well, that can make your Head speake but two wordes at once,
'Time was.' Yea, marie, time was when my maister was a wise
man, but that was before he began to make the Brasen-head. You
shall lie while your arce ake, and your Head speake no better.
Well, I will watch, and walke up and downe, and be a perepatetian
and a philosopher of Aristotles stampe. What, a freshe noise?
Take thy pistols in hand, Miles. 70

_Heere the_ HEAD _speakes; and a lightning flasheth forth, and a hand
appears that breaketh down the_ HEAD _with a hammer._

_Head._ Time is past.[1498]

_Miles._ Maister, maister, up! hels broken loose; your Head
speakes; and theres such a thunder and lightning, that I warrant
all Oxford is up in armes. Out of your bed, and take a browne
bill in your hand; the latter day is come. 75

_Bacon._ Miles, I come.[1499] Oh, passing warily watcht!
Bacon will make thee next himselfe in love.
When spake the Head?

_Miles._ When spake the Head! did not you say that hee should
tell strange principles of philosophie? Why, sir, it speaks but two
wordes at a time. 81

_Bacon._ Why, villaine, hath it spoken oft?

_Miles._ Oft! I, marie, hath it, thrice; but in all those three
times it hath uttered but seven wordes.

_Bacon._ As how? 85

_Miles._ Marrie, sir, the first time he said 'Time is,' as if Fabius
Cumentator[1500] should have pronounst a sentence; [the second
time[1501]] he said, 'Time was'; and the third time, with thunder and
lightning, as in great choller, he said, 'Time is past.'

_Bacon._ 'Tis past indeed. A[h], villaine, time is past: 90
My life, my fame, my glorie, all[1502] are past!--
Bacon, the turrets of thy hope are ruind downe,
Thy seven yeares studie lieth in the dust;
Thy Brazen-head lies broken through a slave,
That watcht, and would not when the Head did will.-- 95
What said the Head first?

_Miles._ Even, sir, 'Time is.'

_Bacon._ Villain, if thou had'st cald to Bacon then,
If thou hadst watcht, and wakte the sleepie frier,
The Brazen-head had uttered aphorismes, 100
And England had been circled round with brasse:
But proud Astmeroth,[1503] ruler of the north,
And Demegorgon,[1504] maister of the fates,
Grudge that a mortall man should worke so much.
Hell trembled at my deepe commanding spels, 105
Fiendes frownd to see a man their overmatch;
Bacon might bost more than a man might boast;
But now the braves of Bacon hath an end,
Europes conceit of Bacon hath an end,
His seven yeares practise sorteth to ill end. 110
And, villaine, sith my glorie hath an end,
I will appoint thee fatal[1505] to some end.
Villaine, avoid! get thee from Bacons sight!
Vagrant, go rome and range about the world,
And perish as a vagabond on earth! 115

_Miles._ Why, then, sir, you forbid me your service?

_Bacon._ My service, villaine, with a fatall curse,
That direfull plagues and mischiefe fall on thee. 118

_Miles._ Tis no matter, I am against you with the old proverb,--The
more the fox is curst,[1506] the better he fares. God be with you,
sir: Ile take but a booke in my hand, a wide sleeved gowne on my
backe, and a crowned cap[1507] on my head, and see if I can want
promotion.

_Bacon._ Some fiend or ghost haunt on thy wearie steps,
Untill they doe transport thee quicke to hell: 125
For Bacon shall have never merrie day,
To loose the fame and honour of his Head. _Exit._

[Scene Twelfth. _At Court._]

_Enter_ EMPEROUR, CASTILE, HENRIE, ELLINOR, EDWARD, LACIE, RAPHE.

_Emper._ Now, lovely Prince, the prince[1508] of Albions wealth,
How fares the Lady Ellinor and you?
What, have you courted and found Castile fit
To answer England in equivolence?
Wilt be a match twixt bonny Nell and thee? 5

_Edw._ Should Paris enter in the courts of Greece,
And not lie fetter'd in faire Hellen's lookes?
Or Phœbus scape those piercing amorits
That Daphne glaunsed at his deitie?
Can Edward, then, sit by a flame and freeze, 10
Whose heat puts Hellen and faire Daphne downe?
Now, Monarcks, aske the ladie if we gree.

_Hen._ What, madam, hath my son found grace or no?

_Ellinor._ Seeing, my lord, his lovely counterfeit,
And hearing how his minde and shape agreed, 15
I come[1509] not, troopt with all this warlike traine,
Doubting of love, but so effectionat
As[1510] Edward hath in England what he wonne in Spaine.

_Castile._ A match, my lord; these wantons needes must love:
Men must have wives, and women will be wed: 20
Lets hast the day to honour up the rites.

_Raphe._ Sirha Harry, shall Ned marry Nell?

_Henry._ I, Raphe; how then?

_Raphe._ Marrie, Harrie, follow my counsaile: send for Frier
Bacon to marrie them, for heele so conjure him and her with his
nigromancie, that they shall love togither like pigge and lambe
whilest they live. 27

_Castile._ But hearst thou, Raphe, art thou content to have Ellinor
to thy ladie?

_Raphe._ I, so she will promise me two things. 30

_Castile._ Whats that, Raphe?

_Raphe._ That shee will never scold with Ned, nor fight with
me.--Sirha Harry, I have put her downe with a thing unpossible.

_Henry._ Whats that, Raphe? 34

_Raphe._ Why, Harrie, didst thou ever see that a woman could
both hold her tongue and her handes? No: but when egge-pies
growes on apple-trees, then will thy gray mare proove a bag-piper.

_Emperour._ What saies[1511] the Lord of Castile and the Earle of
Lincolne,
that they are in such earnest and secret talke?

_Castile._ I stand, my lord, amazed at his talke, 40
How he discourseth of the constancie
Of one surnam'd, for beauties excellence,
The Faire Maid of merrie Fresingfield.

_Henrie._ Tis true, my lord, tis wondrous for to heare;
Her beautie passing Marces[1512] parramour, 45
Her virgins right[1513] as rich as Vestas was:
Lacie and Ned hath told me miracles.

_Castile._ What saies Lord Lacie? shall she be his wife?

_Lacie._ Or els Lord Lacie is unfit to live.--
May it please your highnesse give me leave to post 50
To Fresingfield, Ile fetch the bonny girle,
And proove, in true apparance at the court,
What I have vouched often with my tongue.

_Henrie._ Lacie, go to the quirie[1514] of my stable,
And take such coursers as shall fit thy turne: 55
Hie thee to Fresingfield, and bring home the lasse,[1515]
And, for her fame flies through the English coast,
If it may please the Ladie Ellinor,
One day shall match your excellence and her.

_Ellinor._ We Castile ladies are not very coy; 60
Your highnesse may command a greater boone:
And glad were I to grace the Lincolne earl
With being partner of his marriage day.

_Edward._ Gramercie, Nell, for I do love the lord,
As he thats second to my selfe[1516] in love. 65

_Raphe._ You love her?--Madam Nell, never beleeve him you,
though he sweares he loves you.

_Ellinor._ Why, Raphe?

_Raphe._ Why, his love is like unto a tapsters glasse that is broken
with every tuch; for he loved the faire maid of Fresingfield once
out of all hoe.[1517]--Nay, Ned, never wincke upon me: I care not, I.

_Henrie._ Raphe tels all; you shall have a good secretarie of him.--73
But, Lacie, haste thee post to Fresingfield;
For ere thou hast fitted all things for her state, 75
The solemne marriage day will be at hand.

_Lacie._ I go, my Lord. _Exit Lacie._

_Emperour._ How shall we passe this day, my lord?

_Henrie._ To horse, my lord; the day is passing faire,
Weele flie the partridge, or go rouse the deere. 80
Follow, my lords; you shall not want for sport.
_Exeunt._

[Scene Thirteenth. _Frier Bacons cell._]

_Enter_ FRIER BACON _with_ FRIER BUNGAY _to his cell._

_Bungay._ What meanes the frier that frolickt it of late,
To sit as melancholie in his cell[1518]
As if he had neither lost nor wonne to-day?

_Bacon._ Ah, Bungay,[1519] ... my Brazen-head is spo[i]l'd,
My glorie gone, my seven yeares studie lost! 5
The fame of Bacon, bru[i]ted through the world,
Shall end and perish with this deepe disgrace.

_Bun._ Bacon hath built foundation of[1520] his fame
So surely on the wings of true report,
With acting strange and uncoth miracles, 10
As this cannot infringe what he deserves.

_Bacon._ Bungay, sit down, for by prospective skill
I find this day shall fall out ominous:
Some deadly act shall tide me ere I sleep;
But what and wherein little can I gesse, 15
My minde is heavy, what so ere shall hap.[1521]
_Enter two_ Schollers, _sonnes to_ LAMBERT _and_ SERLBY. _Knocke._
Whose that knocks?

_Bungay._ Two schollers that desires to speake with you.

_Bacon._ Bid them come in.--
Now, my youths, what would you have? 20

_1 Scholler._ Sir, we are Suffolkemen and neighbouring friends;
Our fathers in their countries lustie squires;
Their lands adjoyne: in Crackfield[1522] mine doth dwell,
And his in Laxfield. We are colledge-mates,
Sworne brothers, as our fathers live as friendes. 25

_Bacon._ To what end is all this?

_2 Scholler._ Hearing your worship kept within your cell
A glasse prospective, wherin men might see
What so their thoughts or hearts desire could wish,
We come to know how that our fathers fare. 30

_Bacon._ My glasse is free for every honest man.
Sit downe, and you shall see ere long,[1523]
How or in what state your friendly fathers live.[1524]
Meane while, tell me your names.

_Lambert._ Mine Lambert. 35

_2 Scholler._ And mine Serlsbie.

_Bacon._ Bungay, I smell there will be[1525] a tragedie.

_Enter_[1526] LAMBERT _and_ SERLSBIE _with rapiers and daggers._

_Lambert._ Serlsby, thou hast[1525] kept thine houre[1525] like a man;
Th'art worthie of the title of a squire,
That durst, for proofe of thy affection 40
And for thy mistresse favour, prize[1527] thy bloud.
Thou knowst what words did passe at Fresingfield,
Such shamelesse braves as manhood cannot brooke:
I,[1528] for I skorne to beare such piercing taunts,--
Prepare thee, Serlsbie; one of us will die. 45

_Serlsbie._ Thou seest I single [meet] thee [in] the field,[1529]
And what I spake, Ile maintaine with my sword:
Stand on thy guard, I cannot scold it out.
And if thou kill me, thinke I have a sonne,
That lives in Oxford in the Brodgateshall,[1530] 50
Who will revenge his fathers bloud with bloud.

_Lambert._ And, Serlsbie, I have there a lusty boy,
That dares at weapon buckle with thy sonne,
And lives in Broadgates too, as well as thine:
But draw thy rapier, for weele have a bout.[1531] 55

_Bacon._ Now, lustie yonkers, looke within the glasse,[1532]
And tell me if you can discerne your sires.

_1 Scol._ Serlsbie, tis hard; thy father offers wrong
To combat with my father in the field.

_2 Schol._ Lambert, thou liest, my fathers is the abuse,[1533] 60
And thou shalt find it, if my father harme.[1534]

_Bungay._ How goes it, sirs?

_1 Scholler._ Our fathers are in combat hard by Fresingfield.

_Bacon._ Sit still, my friendes, and see the event.

_Lambert._ Why standst thou, Serlsbie? doubtst thou of thy life?
A venie,[1535] man! fair Margret craves so much. 66

_Serlsbie._ Then this for her.

_1 Scholler._ Ah, well thrust!

_2 Scholler._ But marke the ward.

_They[1536] fight and kill ech other._

_Lambert._ Oh, I am slaine! 70

_Serlsbie._ And I,--Lord have mercie on me!

_1 Scholler._ My father slaine!--Serlby, ward that.

_2 Scholler._ And so is mine![1537]--Lambert, Ile quite thee well.

_The two_ Schollers _stab on[e] another._

_Bungay._ O strange strattagem!

_Bacon._ See, Frier, where the fathers[1538] both lie dead!-- 75
Bacon, thy magicke doth effect this massacre:
This glasse prospective worketh manie woes;
And therefore seeing these brave lustie Brutes,[1539]
These friendly youths, did perish by thine art,
End all thy magicke and thine art at once. 80
The poniard that did end the[1540] fatall[1541] lives,
Shall breake the cause efficiat[1542] of their woes.
So fade the glasse, and end with it the showes
That nigromancie did infuse the christall with.
_He breakes the glass._

_Bungay._ What means learned Bacon thus to breake his glasse?

_Bacon._ I tell thee, Bungay, it repents me sore 86
That ever Bacon meddled in this art.
The houres I have spent in piromanticke spels,
The fearefull tossing in the latest night
Of papers full of nigromanticke charmes, 90
Conjuring and adjuring divels and fiends,
With stole and albe and strange pentaganon;[1543]
The wresting of the holy name of God,
As Sother,[1544] Elaim, and Adonaie,[1545]
Alpha, Manoth, and Tetragramiton,[1546] 95
With praying to the five-fould[1547] powers of heaven,
Are instances that Bacon must be damde
For using divels to countervaile his God.--
Yet, Bacon, cheere thee, drowne not in despaire:
Sinnes have their salves, repentance can do much;[1548] 100
Thinke Mercie sits where Justice holds her seate,
And from those wounds those bloudie Jews did pierce,
Which by thy magicke oft did bleed a fresh,
From thence for thee the dew of mercy drops,
To wash the wrath of hie Jehovahs ire, 105
And make thee as a new borne babe from sinne.--
Bungay, Ile spend the remnant of my life
In pure devotion, praying to my God
That he would save what Bacon vainly lost. _Exit._

[Scene Fourteenth. _A Meadow near the Keepers lodge._]

_Enter_ MARGRET _in nuns apparel_, Keeper, _her father, and their_
Friend.

_Keep._ Margret, be not so headstrong in these vows:
O, burie not such beautie in a cell,
That England hath held famous for the hue!
Thy fathers haire like to the silver bloomes
That beautifie the shrubs of Affrica, 5
Shall fall before the dated time of death,
Thus to forgoe his lovely Marg[a]ret.

_Margret._ A[h], father, when the hermonie of heaven
Soundeth the measures of a lively faith,
The vaine illusions of this flattering world 10
Seemes odious to the thoughts of Marg[a]ret.
I loved once,--Lord Lacie was my love;
And now I hate my selfe for that I lovd,
And doated more on him than on my God;
For this I scourge my selfe with sharpe repents. 15
But now the touch of such aspiring sinnes
Tels me all love is lust but love of heavens:
That beautie usde for love is vanitie;
The world containes naught but alluring baites,
Pride,[1549] flatterie, and inconstant thoughts. 20
To shun the pricks of death,[1550] I leave the world,
And vow to meditate on heavenly blisse,
To live in Framingham a holy nunne,
Holy and pure in conscience and in deed;
And for to wish all maides to learne of me 25
To seek heavens joy before earths vanitie.

_Friend._ And will you, then, Margret, be shorn a nunne, and so
leave us all?

_Margret._ Now farewell world, the engin of all woe!
Farewell to friends and father! Welcome Christ! 30
Adiew to daintie robes! this base attire
Better befits an humble minde to God
Than all the show of rich abilliments.
Love[1551] ... oh love!--and, with fond love, farewell
Sweet Lacie, whom I loved once so deare! 35
Ever be well, but never in my thoughts,
Least I offend to think on Lacies love:
But even to that, as to the rest, farewell.

_Enter_ LACIE, WARRAIN, ERMSBIE, _booted and spurd._

_Lacie._ Come on, my wags, weere near the keepers lodge.
Heere have I oft walkt in the watrie meades, 40
And chatted with my lovely Marg[a]ret.

_Warraine._ Sirha Ned, is not this the keeper?

_Lacie._ Tis the same.

_Ermsbie._ The old lecher hath gotten holy mutton to him; a
nunne, my lord. 45

_Lacie._ Keeper, how farest thou? holla, man, what cheere?
How doth Peggie, thy daughter and my love?

_Keeper._ Ah, good my lord! O, wo is me for Pegge!
See where she stands clad in her nunnes attire,
Readie for to be shorne in Framingham: 50
She leaves the world because she left[1552] your love.
Oh, good my lord, perswade her if you can!

_Lacie._ Why, how now, Margret! what, a malecontent?
A nunne? what holy father taught you this,
To taske your selfe to such a tedious life 55
As die a maid? twere injurie to me,
To smother up such bewtie in a cell.

_Margret._ Lord Lacie, thinking of thy[1553] former[1554] misse,
How fond the prime of wanton yeares were spent
In love (Oh, fie upon that fond conceite, 60
Whose hap and essence hangeth in the eye!),
I leave both love and loves content at once,
Betaking me to him that is true love,
And leaving all the world for love of him.

_Lacy._ Whence, Peggie, comes this metamorphosis? 65
What, shorne a nun, and I have from the court
Posted with coursers to convaie thee hence
To Windsore, where our mariage shalbe kept!
Thy wedding robes are in the tailors hands.
Come, Peggy, leave these peremptorie vowes. 70

_Margret._ Did not my lord resigne his interest,
And make divorce 'twixt Marg[a]ret and him?

_Lacie._ Twas but to try sweete Peggies constancie.
But will fair Margret leave her love and lord?

_Margret._ Is not heavens joy before earths fading blisse, 75
And life above sweeter than life in love?

_Lacy._ Why,[1555] then, Margret will be shorne a nun?

_Marg._ Margret hath made a vow which may not be revokt.

_Warraine._ We cannot stay, my lord;[1555] and if she be so strict,
Our leisure graunts us not to woo a fresh. 80

_Ermsby._ Choose you, fair damsell,--yet the choise is yours,--
Either a solemne nunnerie or the court,
God or Lord Lacie: which[1556] contents you best,
To be a nun or els Lord Lacies wife?

_Lacie._ A good motion.--Peggie, your answer must be short.

_Margret._ The flesh is frayle: my lord doth know it well 86
That when he comes with his inchanting face,
What so ere betyde, I cannot say him nay.
Off goes the habite of a maidens heart,
And, seeing fortune will, faire Fremingham, 90
And all the shew of holy nuns, farewell!
Lacie, for me, if he wilbe my lord.

_Lacie._ Peggie, thy lord, thy love, thy husband.[1557]
Trust me, by truth of knighthood, that the king
Staies for to marry matchles Ellinour, 95
Until I bring thee richly to the court,
That one day may both marry her and thee.--
How saist thou, Keeper? art thou glad of this?

_Keeper._ As if[1558] the English king had given
The parke and deere of Frisingfield to me. 100

_Erms._ I pray thee, my Lord of Sussex, why art thou in a broune
study?

_War._ To see the nature of women; that be they never so neare
God, yet they love to die in a mans armes.

_Lacie._ What have you fit for breakefast? We have hied
And posted all this night to Frisingfield.[1559] 106

_Mar._ Butter and cheese, and humbl[e]s[1560] of a deere,
Such as poore keepers have within their lodge.[1559]

_Lacie._ And not a bottle of wine?

_Margret._ Weele find one for my lord. 110

_Lacie._ Come, Sussex, ... lets[1561] in: we shall have more,
For she speaks least, to hold her promise sure.[1559] [_Exeunt._]

[Scene Fifteenth. _Frier Bacons cell._]

_Enter a_ Devill[1562] _to seeke_ MILES.

_Devill._ How restles are the ghosts of hellish spirites,
When everie charmer with his magick spels
Cals us from nine-fold trenched Phlegethon,[1563]
To scud and over-scoure the earth in post
Upon the speedie wings of swiftest winds! 5
Now Bacon hath raisd me from the darkest deepe,
To search about the world for Miles his man,
For Miles, and to torment his lasie bones
For careles watching[1564] of his Brazen-head.
See where he comes: Oh, he is mine. 10

_Enter_ MILES _with a gowne and a corner cap._

_Miles._ A scholler, quoth you! marry, sir, I would I had bene
made a botlemaker when I was made a scholler; for I can get
neither to be a deacon, reader,[1565] nor schoolemaister, no, not the
clarke of a parish. Some call me dunce; another saith, my head is
as full of Latine as an egs full of oatemeale: thus I am tormented,
that the devil and Frier Bacon haunts me.--Good Lord, heers one
of my maisters devils! Ile goe speake to him.--What, Maister
Plutus, how chere you?

_Devill._ Doost thou know me? 19

_Miles._ Know you, sir! why, are not you one of my maisters
devils, that were wont to come to my maister, Doctor Bacon, at
Brazennose?

_Devil._ Yes, marry, am I.

_Miles._ Good Lord, M[aister] Plutus, I have seene you a thousand
times at my maisters, and yet I had never the manners to make you
drinke. But, sir, I am glad to see how conformable you are to the
statute.[1566]--I warrant you, hees as yeomanly a man as you shall
see: marke you, maisters, heers a plaine honest man, without welt or
garde.[1566]--But I pray you, sir, do you come lately from hel?

_Devil._ I, marry: how then? 30

_Miles._ Faith, tis a place I have desired long to see: have you not
good tipling-houses there? may not a man have a lustie fier there, a
pot of good ale, a paire of cardes, a swinging peece of chalke,[1567]
and a browne toast that will clap a white wastcoat[1568] on a cup of
good drinke? 35

_Devil._ All this you may have there.

_Miles._ You are for me, freinde, and I am for you. But I pray
you, may I not have an office there?

_Devil._ Yes, a thousand: what wouldst thou be? 39

_Miles._ By my troth, sir, in a place where I may profit my selfe.
I know hel is a hot place, and men are mervailous drie, and much
drinke is spent there; I would be a tapster.

_Devil._ Thou shalt.

_Miles._ Theres nothing lets me from going with you, but that tis
a long journey, and I have never a horse. 45

_Devil._ Thou shalt ride on my backe.[1569]

_Miles._ Now surely her[e]s a courteous devil, that, for to
pleasure[1570]
his friend, will not stick to make a jade of him self.--But I
pray you, goodman friend, let me move a question to you.

_Dev._ Whats that? 50

_Miles._ I pray you, whether is your pace a trot or an amble?

_Dev._ An amble.

_Miles._ Tis well; but take heed it be not a trot; but tis no matter,
Ile prevent it. [_Stoops._]

_Dev._ What doest? 55

_Miles._ Mary, friend, I put on my spurs; for if I find your pace
either a trot or els uneasie, Ile put you to a false gallop; Ile make
you feele the benefit of my spurs.

_Dev._ Get up upon my backe.

_Miles._ O Lord, here's even a goodly marvel, when a man rides
to hell on the devil's back! _Exeunt_: [_the_ Devil] _roaring_.

[Scene Sixteenth. _At Court._]

_Enter the_ EMPEROUR _with a pointlesse sword; next the_ KING OF CASTILE _carrying a sword with a point_; LACY _carrying the globe_; EDWARD; WARRAINE _carrying a rod of gold with a dove on it_;[1571] ERMSBY _with a crowne and sceptre; the_ QUEENE; [PRINCESS ELINOR]_ with the faire Maide of Fresingfield on her left hand_; HENRY; BACON; _with other Lords attending._

_Edward._ Great potentates, earth's miracles for state,
Think that Prince Edward humbles at your feet,
And, for these favours, on his martial sword
He vows perpetuall homage to yourselves,
Yeelding these honours unto Ellinour. 5

_Henrie._ Gramercies, lordings; old Plantagenet,
That rules and swayes the Albion diademe,
With teares discovers these conceived joyes,
And vows requitall if his men at armes,
The wealth of England, or due honours done 10
To Ellinor, may quite his favourites.[1572]
But all this while what say you to the dames
That shine like to the christall lampes of heaven?

_Emperour._ If but a third were added to these two,
They did surpasse those gorgeous images 15
That gloried Ida with rich beauties wealth.

_Mar._ Tis I, my lords, who humbly on my knee
Must yeeld her horisons to mighty Jove
For lifting up his handmaide to this state;
Brought from her homely cottage to the court, 20
And grasde with kings, princes, and emperours,
To whom (next to the noble Lincolne earle)
I vow obedience, and such humble love
As may a handmaid to such mighty men.

_P. Elin._ Thou martiall man that wears the Almaine crown, 25
And you the western potentates of might,
The Albian princesse, English Edwards wife,
Proud that the lovely star of Fresingfield,
Fair Margret, Countess to the Lincoln earle,
Attends on Ellinour,--gramercies, lord, for her,-- 30
Tis I give thankes for Margret, to you all,
And rest for her due bounden to your selves.

_Henrie._ Seeing the marriage is solemnized,[1573]
Lets march in triumph to the royall feast.--
But why stands Frier Bacon here so mute? 35

_Bacon._ Repentant for the follies of my youth,
That magicks secret mysteries misled,
And joyfull that this royall marriage
Portends such blisse unto this matchless realme.

_Hen._ Why, Bacon, what strange event shall happen to this land?
Or what shall grow from Edward and his queene? 41