Earl Ethenwald, welcome: I thought to send for you.

You must go do a message for us now:

'Tis nothing but to woo a wench, which you

Can do. You must not woo her for yourself,

But me. Tell her, I sit and pine like Tantalus;

And, if you can, strain forth a tear for me.

Tell her she shall be honoured in my love,

And bear a child that one day may be king.

Bid her not stand on terms, but send me word,

Whether she be resolved to love me, yea or no.

If she say no, tell her I can enforce her love:

Or 'tis no matter, though you leave that out,

And tell her this--we hear she is as wise,

As eloquent and full of oratory,

As Thaly[293] was, daughter of Jupiter,

Whose speeches was so pleasing 'mong the Greeks,

That she was term'd a second Socrates.

For some report, women love to be praised;

Then in my cause, I pray thee, love thou Alfrida.

ETHENWALD.

My gracious lord, and Ethenwald shall not fail

To show his humble duty to your majesty.

I will, my lord, woo her in your behalf, plead love

For you, and strain a sigh to show your passions:

I will say she is fairer than the dolphin's eye,

At whom amaz'd the night-stars stand and gaze.

Then will I praise her chin and cheek, and pretty hand,

Long, made like Venus when she us'd the harp,

When Mars was revelling in Jove's high house.

Besides, my lord, I will say she hath a pace

Much like to Juno in Ida[294] vale,

When Argus watch'd the heifer on the mount.

These words, my lord, will make her love, I am sure;

If these will not, my lord, I have better far.

KING.

Nay, this is well: now, Ethenwald, be gone,

For I shall long to hear of thy return.

ETHENWALD.

My gracious lord, I humbly take my leave.

[_Exit_.

KING.

Ethenwald, farewell. Dunstan, how likest thou this?

What, have I done well in sending Ethenwald?

But in good time, how if he like the maid;

Believe me, Dunstan, then my game is marr'd.

DUNSTAN.

I do not think, my gracious lord,

My nephew Ethenwald bears that bad mind,

For hitherto he hath been termed just,

And clept[295] your grace his gracious favourer.

KING.

True, Dunstan; yet have I read that love

Hath made the son deceive the father oft.

But, Dunstan, leaving this, come, let's to court.

DUNSTAN.

I will attend upon your majesty.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ BAILIFF _of Hexham, and his four sons; to wit, a_

COURTIER, _a_ PRIEST, _a_ CONEYCATCHER, _and a_ FARMER.

BAILIFF.

My sons, you see how age decays my state,

And that my life, like snow before the sun,

'Gins to dissolve into that substance now,

From whose enclosure grew my fire of life;

The earth I mean, sweet mother of us all,

Whom death, authorised by heaven's high power,

Shall bring at last, from whence at first I came.

Yet, ere I yield myself to death, my sons,

Give ear, and hear what rules I set you down.

And first to thee, my son, that liv'st by wit:

I know thou hast so many honest sleights,

To shift and cosen smoothly on thy wit,

To cog and lie, and brave it with the best,

That 'twere but labour lost to counsel thee.

And therefore to the next--

Walter, that seems in show a husbandman--

My son, when that thy master trusts thee most,

And thinks thou dealest as truly as himself,

Be thou the first to work deceit to him;

So by that means thou may'st enrich thyself,

And live at pleasure when thy master's dead:

And when to market thou art sent with wool,

Put sand amongst it, and 'twill make it weigh--

The weight twice double than it did before:

The overplus is thine into thy purse--

But now, my son, that keeps the court;

Be thou a means to set the peers at strife,

And curry favour, for the Commons' love.

If any, but in conference, name the king,

Inform his majesty they envy him;

And if the king but move, or speak to thee,

Kneel on both knees, and say, God save your majesty.

If any man be favoured by the king,

Speak thou him fair, although in heart thou envy him,

But who is next?

PRIEST.

That am I, father, that use the word of God,

And live only by the heavenly manna.

BAILIFF.

Who? the Priest? Give ear, my son,

I have a lesson yet in store for thee.

Thou must, my son, make show of holiness;

And blind the world with thy hypocrisy;

And sometime give a penny to the poor,

But let it be in the church or market-place,

That men may praise thy liberality.

Speak against usury, yet forsake no pawns,

So thou may'st gain three shillings in the pound.

Warn thou the world from sin and vile excess,

And now and then speak against drunkenness:

So by this means thou shalt be termed wise,

And with thy pureness blind the people's eyes.

But now, my sons, discourse to me in brief

How you have lived, and how you mean to die.

CONEYCATCHER.

Then, father, thus I live that use my wit:

Unto myself I love still to be wise;

For when I am driven to shift for meat or coin,

Or gay apparel to maintain me brave,

Then do I flaunt it out about the 'Change,

As if I were some landed gentleman;

And, falling in with some rich merchant there,

I take commodities for six months' day:

The bill being made, I must set to my hand;

Then, if I pay not, they may burn the band.[296]

FARMER.

Then, father, hark how I have profited--

Walter, your son that keeps the country--

I have raised the markets and oppress'd the poor,

And made a thousand go from door to door.

And why did I, think you, use this extremity?

Because I would have corn enough to feed the enemy.

Father, you know we have but a while to live,

Then, while we live, let each man shift for one;

For he that cannot make shift in the world,

They say he's unworthy to live in it:

And he that lives must still increase his store,

For he that hath most wealth of all desireth more.

PERIN.

Brethren, you have spoken well, I must needs say;

But now give ear to me, that keeps the court.

Father, I live as Aristippus did,

And use my wits to flatter with the king.

If any in private conference name the king,

I straight inform his grace they envy him.

Did Sinon live, with all his subtlety

He could not tell a flattering tale more cunningly.

Sometime I move the king to be effeminate,

And spend his time with some coy courtesan.

Thus with the king I curry favour still,

Though with my heart I wish him any ill:

And sometime I can counterfeit his hand

And seal, and borrow money of the commonalty;

And thus I live and flaunt it with the best,

And dice and card inferior unto none:

And none dares speak against me in the court,

Because they know the king doth favour me.

PRIEST.

And I, among my brethren and my friends,

Do still instruct 'em with my doctrine,

And Yea and Nay goes through the world with us.

Fie, not an oath we swear for twenty pound:

Brethren, say we, take heed by Adam's fall;

For by his sins we are condemned all.

Thus preach we still unto our brethren,

Though in our heart we never mean the thing:

Thus do we blind the world with holiness,

And so by that are termed pure Precisians.

BAILIFF.

Full well and wisely have you said, my sons,

And I commend you for your forward minds,

That in your lives bewray whose sons ye are.

Here have I been a bailiff threescore years,

And us'd exaction on the dwellers-by;

For if a man were brought before my face

For cosenage, theft, or living on his wit:

For counterfeiting any hand or seals,

The matter heard, the witness brought to me,

I took a bribe, and set the prisoners free:

So by such dealings I have got the wealth,

Which I would have disburs'd among you all,

With this proviso, that you all shall live,

And lead such lives as I have set you down.

Carve to yourselves, and care not what they say,

That bid you fear the fearful judgment-day.

Live to yourselves, while you have time to live:

Get what you can, but see ye nothing give.

But hark, my sons: me thinks I hear a noise,

And ghastly visions make me timorous.

Ah! see, my sons, where death, pale Death, appears,

To summon me before a fearful Judge.

Methinks Revenge stands with an iron whip,

And cries, Repent, or I will punish thee.

My heart is hardened, I cannot repent,

And I am damned to ever-burning fire.

Soul, be thou safe, and body fly to hell. [_He dieth_.

_Enter_ DEVIL, _and carry him away_.

CONEYCATCHER.

Brother, why do you not read to my father?

PRIEST.

Truly, my book of exhortation is

At my place of exercise, and without it

I can do nothing. God's peace be with him!

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter the_ KING, PHILARCHUS _and his_ FATHER, DUNSTAN

_and attendants_.

KING.

Father, say on; for now my leisure serves,

And Edgar gives thee leave to tell thy mind;

For I perceive thine eyes are full of tears,

Which shows that many inward passions trouble thee.

If any here have wrong'd thine aged years,

In keeping that from thee that is thy due,

Name but the man, and, as I am England's king,

Thou shalt have all the favour I can show.

FATHER.

Then, virtuous prince, mirror of courtesy,

Whose judgments, and whose laws for government,

And punishing of every foul abuse,

Is like the judgment of great Alexander,

Third of that name, whom some termed the Severe;

Or like Vespasian, Rome's virtuous governor,

Who, for a blow his son did give a swain,

Did straight command that he should lose his hand.

Then, virtuous Edgar, be Vespasian once,

In giving sentence on a graceless child.

Know, virtuous prince, that in my pride of years,

When lustful pleasure prick'd my wanton mind,

Even in the April of my flourishing time,

I was betroth'd and wedded to a wife,

By whom too soon I had that unkind boy,

Whose disobedience to his aged sire

The Lord will plague with torments worse than death.

This disobedient child, nay, base extravagant,[297]

Whom I with care did nourish to this state,

Puff'd with a pride that upstart courtiers use,

And seeing that I was brought to poverty,

He did refuse to know me for his sire;

And when I challenged him by nature's laws

To yield obedience to his father's age,

He told me straight he took it in great scorn

To be begot by one so base as I.

My age, that ill could brook this sharp reply,

Did with this wand, my lord, reach him a blow;

But he, contrary laws of God and men,

Did strike me such a blow in vild disdain,

That with the stroke I fell to earth again.

KING.

Unkind Philarchus, how hast thou misdone,

In wilful disobedience to thy sire!

Art thou grown proud, because I favoured thee?

Why, I can quickly make thee bare again,

And then, I think, being in thy former state,

Thou wilt remember who thy father was.

And, gentle Sophocles, in good time I recount

Thy ancient saying, not so old as true,

For saith [he], He that hath many children,

Shall never be without some mirth,

Nor die without some sorrow; for if they

Be virtuous, he shall have cause to rejoice,

But if vicious, stubborn, or disobedient,

Ever to live in continual sadness.

I am sorry, Philarchus, that my favours

Have made thee insolent: well, I will see now if

My frowns will make thee penitent.

Now, father, see how Nature 'gins to work,

And how salt tears, like drops of pearly[298] dew,

Falls from his eyes, as sorrowing his amiss.

PHILARCHUS.

Most gracious prince, vouchsafe to hear me speak.

I cannot but confess, most gracious sovereign,

That I have err'd in being obstinate

In wilful disobedience to my sire

Wherein I have wrong'd nature and your majesty.

But I am not the first, whom oversight

Hath made forgetful of a father's love.

But father's love shall never be forgot,

If he but deign to pardon my amiss:

But if your wrath will noways be appeased,

Rip up this breast, where is enclos'd that heart,

That bleeds with grief to think on my amiss.

Ah, father! pardon, sweet father, pardon me.

FATHER.

No, graceless imp, degenerate and unkind,

Thou art no son of mine, but tiger's whelp,

That hast been fost'red by some lion's pap:

But as the tall'st ash is cut down, because

It yields no fruit, and an unprofitable cow,

Yielding no milk, is slaughtered, and the idle drone,

Gathering no honey, is contemned;

So ungrateful children, that

Will yield no natural obedience, must be

Cut off, as unfit to bear the name [of] Christians,

Whose lives digress both from reason and humanity.

But as thou hast dealt unnaturally with me,

So I resolve to pull my heart from thee.

Therefore, dread prince, vouchsafe to pity me,

And grant I may have justice on my son.

KING.

Dunstan, how counsellest thou the king in this?

I promise thee, I am sorry for the youth,

Because in heart I ever wish'd him well.

DUNSTAN.

My gracious lord, if I might counsel you,

I would counsel you to judge as he deserves.

He that disdains his father in his want,

And wilfully will disobey his sire,

Deserves, my lord, by God's and nature's laws,

To be rewarded with extremest ills:

Then, as your grace hath 'stablish'd laws for government,

So let offenders feel the penalties.

KING.

Ay, Dunstan; now thou speakest as fits a councillor,

But not as friend to him whom Edgar loves.

Father, what wouldest thou have me do in this?

Thou seest thy son is sorry for his fault,

And I am sure thou would not wish his death,

Because a father's care commands the contrary.

Then, gentle father, let me plead for him,

And be his pledge for shunning wilful ills.

FATHER.

Will Edgar now be found a partial judge,

In pleading pardon for a graceless child?

Is it not true,

That one coal of fire will burn many houses,

And one small brack in finest cloth that is,

Will both disgrace and blemish the whole piece?

So wilful children, spotted with one ill,

Are apt to fall to twenty thousand more;

And therefore, mighty sovereign, leave to speak,

And pass just sentence on Philarchus' life.

PHILARCHUS.

My life? dear father, that sentence were too hard:

Let me be banish'd from my country's bounds,

And live as exil'd in some wilderness,

Barr'd from society and sight of men;

Or let me hazard fortunes on the seas,

In setting me aboard some helmless ship,

That either I may split upon some rock,

Or else be swallowed in the purple main,

Rather than die in presence of my king,

Or bring that sorrow to your aged years.

If this suffice not, then let me be arm'd,

And left alone among ten thousand foes;

And if my weapon cannot set me free,

Let them be means to take my life from me.

KING.

Father, what say you to Philarchus now?

Are you content to pardon his amiss?

Dunstan, I promise thee, it grieves me much,

To hear what piteous moan Philarchus makes:

Methinks I see sad sorrow in his face,

And his humility argues him penitent.

But, father, for I will not be the judge,

To doom Philarchus either life or death,

Here, take my robes, and judge him as thou wilt.

FATHER.

Then, virtuous prince, seeing you will have it so,

Although the place be far unfit for me,

I am content your grace shall have your mind.

Thus, like an ass attired in costly robes,

Or like a ring thrust in a foul sow's snout,

So do these robes and sceptre fit mine age.

But for I am judge, Philarchus, stand thou forth,

And know, as there is nothing so good, but it hath some inconvenience,

So there is no man whatsoever without some fault:

Yet this is no argument to maintain thy wilful disobedience.

As the rose hath his prickle, the finest velvet his brack,

The fairest flower his bran, so the best wit his wanton will.

But, Philarchus, thou hast been more than wanton,

Because thou hast disobeyed the laws both of God and nature:

The tears that thou hast shed might warrant me,

That thou art penitent for thy amiss,

Besides, my son, a father's natural care

Doth challenge pardon for thy first amiss.

KING.

Father, well said: I see thou pitiest him.

FATHER.

Nay, stay, my lord:

This did I speak as father to Philarchus;

But now, my lord, I must speak as a judge.

And now, Philarchus, mark what I set down.

Because thou hast been disobedient,

And wronged thy aged father wilfully,

And given a blow to him that nourished thee,

And thereby hast incurr'd thy mother's curse,

And in that curse to feel the wrath of God,

And so be hated on the earth 'mongst men;

And for I will be found no partial judge,

Because I sit as God's vicegerent now,

Here I do banish thee from England's bounds,

And never to----

KING.

There stay: now, let me speak the rest.

Philarchus, thou hast heard thy father's doom,

And what thy disobedience moved him to;

Yet for thou wast once bedfellow to the king,

And that I loved thee as my second self, thou shall

Go live in France, in Flanders, Scotland, or elsewhere,

And have [an] annual pension sent to thee.

There may'st thou live in good and honest sort,

Until thou be recalled by the king.

PHILARCHUS.

Thanks, gracious king, for this great favour shown,

And may I never live, if I forget

Your grace's kind and unexpected love,

In favouring him whom all the world forsook:

For which my orisons shall still be spent,

Heavens may protect your princely majesty.

And, loving father, here upon my knee,

Sorry for my amiss, I take my leave

Both of yourself, my king, and countrymen.

England, farewell, more dearer unto me,

Than pen can write, or heart can think of thee.

[_Exit_.

KING.

Farewell, Philarchus; and, father, come to Court;

And, for Philarchus' sake, thou shalt not want.

FATHER.

Thanks, virtuous king; I humbly take my leave.

[_Exit_.

KING.

Dunstan, I promise thee, I was like to weep,

To hear what piteous moan Philarchus made.

DUNSTAN.

Here your grace hath showed yourself to be

Edgar, so famed for love and virtuous government;

And I pray God your grace may live to be

Long England's king to reign with verity.

[_Exeunt_.

[_Enter_ HONESTY.]

HONESTY.

'Tis strange to see how men of honesty

Are troubled many times with subtle knavery:

For they have so many cloaks to colour their abuses,

That Honesty may well suspect them, but dares not detect them;

For if he should, they have by their knavery

Got so many friends, that though never so bad,

They will stand in defence with the best.

I was at the water-side, where I saw such deceit--

I dare not say knavery--in paying and receiving

Custom for outlandish ware, that I wond'red to see,

Yet durst not complain of: the reason was,

They were countenanced with men of great wealth,

Richer than I a great deal, but not honester.

Then I went into the markets, where I saw petty knavery

In false-measuring corn, and in scales,

That wanted no less than two ounces in the pound.

But all this was nothing, scant worth the talking of;

But when I came to the Exchange, I espied in a corner of an aisle

An arch-cosener; a coneycatcher, I mean,

Which used such gross cosening, as you would wonder to hear.

But here he comes fine and brave:

Honesty marks him down for a knave.

[_Enter_ CONEYCATCHER.]

CONEYCATCHER.

Why so, 'tis an ill wind blows no man to profit;

And he is but a fool that, when all fails, cannot live upon his wit.

I have attired myself like a very civil citizen,

To draw fourscore pound from a couple of fools.

A gentleman, having made over his land by deed of gift,

Means to cosen a broker with a false conveyance.

All's one to me; I shall lose nothing by the bargain.

But here comes the broker: I will walk, as I regarded him not.

[_Enter_ BROKER.]

BROKER.

God save you, sir: I see you keep your hour.

But hear you, sir; hath the gentleman that conveyance

You told me of ready? I hope, sir, I

Shall need misdoubt no deceit in the matter,

For I mean plainly, and so, I hope, do you.

CONEYCATCHER.

Sir, as concerning the conveyance, I assure you,

'Tis so good, and he hath such good interest in it,

That, were I furnish'd with so much money presently,

No man in the world should have it but myself.

And for own part, you need not suspect me,

For I would not discredit myself for a thousand pound;

For the gentleman is my very friend,

And, being in some want, is enforc'd to pawn land

For the supplying of a present necessity.

Tush, the interest is good, I warrant you.

HONESTY.

And that's much worth: some will say,

A crafty knave needs no broker,

But here is a crafty knave and a broker too:

There wants not a knave, then, I imagine. [_Aside_.

BROKER.

But tell me, sir, when did he promise to be here?

What, will it be long, ere he come?

CONEYCATCHER.

Nay, it will not be long, ere he come,

For the conveyance was made, ere I came from the scrivener's,

And in good time here he comes. God save you, sir:

[_Enter_ GENTLEMAN.]

Here is the man I told you of, that would lend you the money.

He is a very honest man; and but for my sake, I know,

He would not do it. But is the land despatch'd another way?

If you be ready to seal, he is ready with the money.

Hear you, sir, you have a good bargain; despatch it quickly.

BROKER.

Being advertised by my friend, this honest merchant,

That you have certain land to pawn for present money,

Now, I had not so much money of mine own at this time,

But I made means to borrow so much of a friend of mine,

Because I would not have you fall in bad men's handling.

GENTLEMAN.

I thank you, sir, for this unspeakable favour.

If you deal amiss with me, I am undone for ever.

BROKER.

I would not deal amiss with any man for a thousand pound.

HONESTY.

And yet he will cut a man's throat for twelve-pence.

Here is a cluster of knaves; here lacks but the baily of Hexham.

[Aside.]

BROKER.

Well, sir, here is the money: will it please you seal the assurance.

GENTLEMAN.

With all my heart.

HONESTY.

God save her, sirs, and her good friends; her is a poor Welshman,

come as far as Carnarvon, in Wales, to receive a little money, and

here a has paid her I cannot tell what.

[_To_ BROKER.] Here, you master; what, is it not brass money?

BROKER.

No, honest fellow; 'tis a good angel in gold.

HONESTY.

Who told him my name? [_Aside_.]

Hear you, master: a has a great deal more in her bosom, but a will

take her leave.

CONEYCATCHER.

Nay, stay and dine with me.

I must fetch him over for all his gold. [_Aside_.]

HONESTY.

Marry, I thank her, good master: I will wait upon her, I warrant you.

BROKER.

Now, sir, have you seal'd and subscribed?

GENTLEMAN.

I have, sir.

BROKER.

And you deliver this as your deed to my use?

GENTLEMAN.

With all my heart, sir; and hope you will use me well.

BROKER.

We will talk of that another time: here is your money.

GENTLEMAN.

I thank you, sir: I'll be gone.

CONEYCATCHER.

Hear you, sir; was not this bravely done? [_Aside_.]

GENTLEMAN.

Excellent: hold, here is forty pound, as I promised thee.

CONEYCATCHER.

I thank you, sir. Do you hear, sir, you have got a thousand pound

by the bargain; but much good may it do you.

[_Exit_.

BROKER.

God-a-mercy; and here's forty pound for thy pains.

Such another match, and I'll give thee a hundred pound.

[_Exit_.

CONEYCATCHER.

I thank you, sir, God b'w'y'. Now to my Welshman.

Sirrah, let me see thy piece of gold;

I'll tell thee whether it be weight or no.

Hast thou any more? I'll give thee white money for it.

HONESTY.

Yes, a has a great deal more in her bosom,

But a will have no whit' money: O, a loves red money.

CONEYCATCHER.

Well, I'll keep them for thee, till thou come to my house.

HONESTY.

Why, Cutbert, wilt thou never leave thy old knavery?

Why, we should gree together like bells,

If thou wert but hanged first.

Why, we are as near kin together

As the cates[299] of Banbury be to the bells of Lincoln.

Why, man, we are all birds of a feather,

And whosoever says nay, we will hold together.

Come, you mad slave, thou dost not know me.

Tush! I have done many better tricks than this.

CONEYCATCHER.

Why, you base slave, take you me for your fellow?

Why, I am of good reputation in the city,

And held in account with the best.

HONESTY.

And yet you are Cutbert the Coneycatcher,

The bailiff's son of Hexham, whose father, being dead,

The devil carried to hell for his knavery.

How sayest thou, art not thou his son?

This grave black cloak makes you so proud,

You have forgotten who was your father.

CONEYCATCHER.

Nay, I have not forgotten that my father was a bailiff,

A man that would live to himself.

And yet, in faith, he gave me nothing at his death

But good counsel, how to live in the world.

But, sirrah, as thou knowest me, I pray thee, bewray me not,

And in anything I can, command me.

HONESTY.

Tush! fear not me, I will be as secret as thyself.

But, sirrah, 'tis thus, if thou wilt do one thing,

I shall tell thee, I will give thee an hundred pound:

'Tis nothing with thee, I am sure.

CONEYCATCHER.

Tush! tell me what it is; I'll do it, I warrant thee.

HONESTY.

Nothing but this; to swear upon a book

That thou sawest a gentleman pay a farmer

Four hundred pound, as the last payment of a farm

That the said gentleman bought of him.

CONEYCATCHER.

Tush! if this be all, let me alone, I will do it.

Why, 'tis nothing for me to swear,

For I am forsworn already: but when is the day?

HONESTY.

Why, to-morrow,

CONEYCATCHER.

But where shall I meet you?

HONESTY.

Why, upon the Exchange at eight o'clock.

CONEYCATCHER.

I will not miss: till that time, farewell. [_Exit_.

HONESTY.

Fare well? [_Aside_.] Nay, you will scant fare well

By that time I have done: but I must about my business,

To find some knack to know this knave at large.

[_Exit_.

_Enter_ ETHENWALD.

ETHENWALD.

The night draws on,

And Phoebus is declining towards the west.

Now shepherds bear their flocks unto the folds,

And wint'red oxen, foddered in their stalls,

Now leave to feed, and 'gin to take their rest:

Black, dusky clouds environ round the globe,

And heaven is covered with a sable robe.

Now am I come to do the king's command;

To court a wench, and win her for the king:

But if I like her well, I say no more,

'Tis good to have a hatch before the door.

But first I will move her father to prefer

The earnest suit I have in canvassing,

So may I see the maid, woo, wed,

Ay, and bed her too. Who is here? what ho!

_Enter_ OSRICK.

OSRICK.

Earl Ethenwald, welcome. How fares our friends at court?

What cause constrains your honour, that thus late

You visit us, that dream not of your coming?

ETHENWALD.

My lord, I am come unlooked-for, very true;

So is my coming yet conceal'd from you.

OSRICK.

Your honour shall repose you here to-night,

And early as you please begin your task;

Time serves not now. Come, Ethenwald,

As welcome as the king himself to me.

ETHENWALD.

Now, Ethenwald, if fortune favour thee,

Thou may'st prove happy love to Alfrida. [_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ HONESTY, _and the_ KING _disguised_.

HONESTY.

This is the place, and this th'appointed time. I know

He'll keep his word, for he thinks me his friend.

KING.

But tell me, Honesty, am I not well disguised?

Can any man discern me by my looks

To be the king? Take heed of that,

For then our game is marr'd: and hast

Thou promised him what reward he shall have?

HONESTY.

Tush! fear not you; for you never knew honest man

Dissemble with his friend, though many friends

Dissemble with honest men. But, my lord,

The cards be shuffled, and here comes a knave.

_Enter_ CONEYCATCHER.

CONEYCATCHER.

'Tis strange to see how men of our knowledge live,

And how we are hated of the baser sort,

Because, forsooth, we live upon our wit:

But let the baser sort think as they will,

For he may best be termed a gentleman,

That, when all fails, can live upon his wit.

And if all fails, then have I got a wench

That cuts and deals to maintain my expense.

Now I use her, as men use sweetest flowers,

That while they are sweet and pleasant to the eye.

I do regard them for their pleasant smell;

But when their colour fades, and scent decays,

I cast them off for men to trample on.

But to the purpose: here is the gentleman,

My honest friend did lately tell me of. [_Aside_.

Sir, though I had another business of import,

That might have hind'red me from coming here,

Yet in regard I am loth to break my word,

I have set my other business clean apart,

Because you should not judge amiss of me.

HONESTY.

I find you kind, sir, and yourself shall see

How I will labour to requite your courtesy.

[_To the_ KING.] This is the honest man I told you of,

One that will do your pleasure in the cause,

So be it you will content him for his pains.

KING.

Else God forbid: and, good sir, thus it is,

I bought a farm of one that dwells here by,

And for an earnest gave an hundred pound:

The rest was to be paid as six weeks past.

Now, sir, I would have you as witness,

That at my house you saw me pay three hundred pound,

And for your pains I will give you a hundred pound;

Besides, I will stand your friend in what I may.

You hear the cause;

What, will your conscience serve you to do it?

CONEYCATCHER.

How say you, sir? My conscience? then you touch me!

I tell you, sir, my conscience will serve me to do more than this.

Why, I have been a post-knight[300] in Westminster this twelve year,

And sworn to that which no one else would venture on.

Why, I have sworn against mine own father for money:

I have sworn right or wrong--any ways--for money,

When I have received money before witness, I swore to the contrary;

And do you misdoubt me in so slight a matter as this,

When I have sworn against father, mother, and all my kin?

HONESTY.

I told you, sir, how resolute you should find him:

He doth it without fear, I warrant you. I think

That in London you could not have found a man so fit

For your purpose. I knew his father, sir:

A man of honest reputation, and one whose life

Was witness to the life he led: he was a bailiff, sir,

Though I say't, but no bailiff that used deceit;

He had too good a conscience for that.

KING.

All the better for that; for it should seem by his

Behaviour that he hath had good bringing-up.

CONEYCATCHER.

Indeed, my father in his lifetime was a man

Given to the fear of God, and to use much devotion.

HONESTY.

Ay, but he gave nothing for God's sake, except it were

Hard words, or blows; and they had been better kept than given.

But hush! here comes the judge.

_Enter_ PERIN _a judge, and_ DUNSTAN _a farmer_.

KING.

Hear you, sir;

If you be in readiness, here is the judge.

CONEYCATCHER.

Ay, sir: I fear not,

I warrant you: is that your adversary?

What an old crust it is!

HONESTY.

I think the villain hath a face hardened with steel;

He could never be so impudent else.

DUNSTAN.

If it please your worship, this is the man

That wrongfully would have my farm from me,

Facing me down that he hath paid me that,

Which he never off'red, nor I never received:

And this day he hath promised to make proof,

That he hath paid me full four hundred pound.

KING.

And so I can; and here's my witness to it,

That saw me when I paid the money.

DUNSTAN.

Why, I am sure he will not say it.

I never saw the man in all my life.

CONEYCATCHER.

No, sir? but I saw you, and was a witness

When this gentleman paid you three hundred pound,

As the last payment for the farm he bought.

PERIN.

But where was the money tendered?

CONEYCATCHER.

At the gentleman's house.

PERIN.

You see, father, this merchant will be witness,

That he saw so much money tend'red,

And you received it, being full satisfied,

As the last payment for the farm he bought.

And if this merchant take his oath against you,

That seven days past he saw the money tendered,

I must pass sentence, then, against you needs.

[_To_ CONEYCATCHER.] But will you swear on the Bible this is true?

CONEYCATCHER.

Ay, sir, and to that intent I came hither;

For I will never refuse to swear a truth, while I live.

DUNSTAN.

Yet, ere thou speak, vouchsafe to hear me speak.

Full threescore winters, gentle sir, I have pass'd,

And age hath brought grey hairs upon my head:

Look but upon my face, and thou shalt see

The perfect pattern of humility.

Thou man of worth, or citizen, whate'er thou be,

Weigh but my charge, and then thou wilt not swear.

I have five sons, all pretty, tender babes,

That live upon the farm that he would have;

Twelve hundred sheep do feed upon the plains,

That yearly bring a great increase to me,

Besides a hundred oxen, fatly fed,

That every winter feed within my stalls,

And twenty poor men, living near my house,

I daily feed, and all upon my farm.

Go but among my neighbours, where I dwell,

And hear what good report they give of me.

The poor man never yet went from my door,

But to my power I did relieve his want:

I was no farmer that enrich'd myself,

By raising markets and oppressing poor,

But I have sold my corn full many times

At better rate than I could well afford,

And all to help my needy brethren,

Then, ere thou swear'st, call all these things to mind,

And thou wilt weep, and leave to swear untruths--

Confusion to thy body and thy soul.

PERIN.

Well, if thou be well-advised, take thy oath;

But yet remember before whom thou swearest,

The God of truth and perfect equity,

Which will revenge wrong to the innocent

With thousand plagues and tortures worse than death.

CONEYCATCHER.

By the holy contents of this Bible,

And by that just God before whom I stand,

I saw this man----

KING.

Peace! shameless villain, execrable wretch,

Monster of nature, degenerate miscreant!

Who ever knew or heard so vile an oath

Vilely pronounc'd[301] by such a damned slave?

Have I such monstrous vipers in my land,

That with their very breaths infect the air?

Say, Dunstan, hast thou ever heard the like?

DUNSTAN.

My liege,

Such loathsome weeds must needs infect the corn;

Such cankers perish both the root and branch,

Unless they be soon spied, and weeded out.

KING.

I'll be the husbandman to mow such tares--

Here, Honesty; let him be manacled,

And scar his forehead, that he may be known--

As Cain for murder, he for perjury.

CONEYCATCHER.

I beseech your grace, be good to me.

HONESTY.

Ay, you shall have a cold iron clapt in your forehead;

A hot one, I would say: you are a slave indeed.

CONEYCATCHER.

Good Honesty!

HONESTY.

Good villain, there's no help for you.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ ETHENWALD _alone_.

ETHENWALD.

My fancy's thoughts, like the labouring spider,

That spreads her nets to entrap the silly fly,

Or like the restless billows of the seas,

That ever alter by the fleeting air,

Still hovering past their wonted passions,

Makes me amazed in these extremities.

The king commands me on his embassage

To Osrick's daughter, beauteous Alfrida,

The height and pride of all this bounding ill;

To post amain, plead love in his behalf,

To court for him, and woo, and wed the maid.

But have you never heard that theme?

Deceit in love is but a merriment

To such as seek a rival to prevent.

Whither, distraught, roams my unruly thoughts?

It is the king I cosen of his choice,

And he nill brook Earl Ethenwald should prove

False to his prince, especially in love.

Then thus it shall be:

I'll tell the king the maid is fair,

Of nut-brown colour, comely and fair-spoken,

Worthy companion to an earl or so,

But not a bride for Edgar, England's king.

This will allay the strong effects in love

Fame wrought in Edgar's mind of Alfrida.

Well, I'll to court, and dally with the king,

And work some means to draw his mind from love.

_Enter a_ KNIGHT, SQUIRE, _and_ FARMER.

KNIGHT.

Neighbour Walter, I cannot but admire to see

How housekeeping is decayed within this thirty year;

But where the fault is, God knows: I know not.

My father in his lifetime gave hospitality

To all strangers,

And distressed travellers;

His table was never empty of bread, beef, and beer;

He was wont to keep a hundred tall men in his hall.

He was a feaster of all comers in general,

And yet was he never in want of money: I think

God did bless him with increase for his bountiful mind.

FARMER.

Truly, sir, I am sorry you are fallen into decay,

In that you want to maintain household charge;

And whereof comes this want? I will tell you, sir:

'Tis only through your great housekeeping.

Be ruled by me, and do as I advise you.

You must learn to leave so great a train of men,

And keep no more than needs of force you must,

And those you keep, let them be simple men,

For they will be content with simple fare.

Keep but a boy or two within your house,

To run of errands, and to wait on you,

And for your kitchen, keep a woman-cook,

One that will serve for thirty shillings a year;

And by that means you save two liveries.

And if ye will keep retainers towards you,

Let them be farmers, or rich husbandmen,

For you shall find great profit, sir, in keeping them:

For if you stand in need of corn or hay,

Send but to them, and you may have it straight.

And if you kill a beef, let it be so lean,

The butcher nor the grazier will not buy it.

Your drink is too strong, and tastes too much of malt:

Tush, single beer is better far, both for your profit,

and your servants' health.

And at a Christmas-time feast none at all,

But such as yield you some commodity;

I mean such as will send you now and then

Fat geese and capons to keep house withal:

To these and none else would I have you liberal.

KNIGHT.

Why, neighbour, my goods are lent me to no other end,

But to relieve my needy brethren; but God, I hope, hath in store for me.

FARMER.

Ay, trust you to that, and you may hap die a beggar.

SQUIRE.

Why, sir, if he should not trust in God, in whom should he trust,

for God is the giver of all good whatsoever?

FARMER.

True; and yet 'tis good for a man to trust to himself now and then;

for if you be down, and bid God help you up, and do not help yourself,

you may fortune lie and perish; and therefore serve God on Sundays, as

you are appointed, and thereby hope to be saved; for by your alms-deeds

you cannot, for if you give to the poor, there be many will say, he

thinks to be saved by his alms-deeds; and thus you shall be ill-thought

on for your good-will; and therefore learn to provide for yourself; let

God provide for the poor.

KNIGHT.

I tell you, neighbour, my great grandfather and all my predecessors

have been held in good regard for their good housekeeping; and (God

willing) their good names shall never take an exigent[302] in me, for

I will (God willing) keep such hospitality to my death, as my state

can maintain; and I will rather sell my land to maintain housekeeping,

than, keeping my land, make sale of my good name for housekeeping.

But, stay, who comes here?

_Enter two poor_ OLD MEN _and a_ BAILIFF.

ONE OLD MAN.

God save you, sir; I pray be good to me, for cham a poor man, and I

cannot tell what you will do, for you say my horse hath broken into

your corn, or your corn into my horse. But, indeed, my neighbour saw

your boy drive my horse into a field. But I'll stand to nothing, now

I am warn'd with a piece of paper and a little wax, to prepare to

proceed to London; and there I am invented, I cannot tell for what.

The bailiff here hath arrested me, ere I was weary,[303] against my

will; he said it was upon your suit, and yet he laid his hands on me;

nay, more, on my shoulder--

ANOTHER OLD [MAN.]

And, sir, and it may please you, I borrowed certain corn; and I brought

you your corn again, and yet you 'rrest me.

FARMER.

True, sir; but then was corn sold for four shillings a bushel, and now

'tis sold for two.

KNIGHT.

Ay, sir, but he borrowed corn, and promised

To pay you corn again, and you can have

But so much as you lent; for if

He should pay you at the rate you demand,

You would have for the twenty bushels you lent,

Forty, which were neither right nor conscience.

FARMER.

O sir, I pray let me alone with my conscience. You would have me give

all I have away to the poor, and want as you do. I pray, let me alone

to deal for myself. Hear you, have you 'rrested them?

BAILIFF.

I have, sir, as you commanded me.

FARMER.

Then to prison with them, till they have paid such damages, as the law

shall award them.

ONE POOR [MAN.]

Hear you, sir: if you should bid your boy break down a gap, and drive

in my horse, 'twere little better than plain knavery; for my horse is

as honest a horse as any is in this town.

ANOTHER.

Well, neighbour, we will have the horse examined

Before an officer, and my boy Jack shall write

What the horse speaks; and if the horse say a was driven

In against his will,

Then you may have the law of him, neighbour;

For all the horses in the parish will be sworn

For his horse. But I'll stand to nothing--

FARMER.

Well, to prison with them, till they have paid your due; away with them.

ONE POOR [MAN.]

Nay, I pray, be more miserable to me, and I will give you forty

shillings, when I have it.

FARMER

By the mass, the knave hath a pretty cottage:

I'll see, and I can get that. [_Aside_.] Sirrah,

You have an old cottage; if you will make

Me that over by deed of gift, I am content

To draw my action.

ANOTHER POOR MAN.

My house? why, 'tis my goods,

My wife, my land, my horse, my ass, or anything

That is his. No, you caterpillar, I will never make

Away my house; I will die first.

KNIGHT.[304]

But tell me, sir,

How much would you have of them for their trespass?

FARMER.

Marry, forty[305] shillings, and yet I befriend them.

Why, sir, I hope you will not pay it for them?

KNIGHT.

But I will. Sirrah, bailiff, I will answer

The poor men's debts, and come home to me for thy fee

Anon. Go, old men; get you home, and praise God.

ONE POOR [MAN.]

Marry, Jesus bless you. Neighbour, how many such

Good knights have you now-a-days?

ANOTHER.

Too few, neighbour; the more is the pity.

But come, lets away. [_Exeunt_.

KNIGHT.

But who comes here?

_Enter_ PERIN _and_ HONESTY.

PERIN.

God save you, gentlemen. The king greets you, and at this time

Having some occasion to use money, hath sent to know

What you that be knights and squires will lend his grace;

And you, Master Farmer: be brief, sir[s,] for I cannot stay.

KNIGHT.

Sir, though housekeeping be some hind'rance

to my willing mind, by reason that it robs me of

that, which should bewray my loving mind both

to my prince and country--money I mean, which

at this time I stand in some want of--yet of that

small store that I have, [I] am willing to impart the

lending of the king twenty pound; and more, I

assure you, I am not able.

PERIN.

Very well; and what say you, Master Squire?

SQUIRE.

I say that my revenues are but small,

Yet I will lend his majesty ten pound.

PERIN.

Very well; but what saith the Farmer?

What can he spare the king?

FARMER.

Marry, sir,

I am a poor farmer, and yet I can afford to lend

The king a hundred or two of pounds. And hear you, sir; [_Aside_.]

If you prefer a suit I have to the king,

I will give you forty angels for your pains:

Besides, I will give you the keeping of a dozen jades,

And now and then meat for you and your horse,

If you come to my house, and lie a whole year.

PERIN.

Why, that's well said, and I commend

Thy honest mind. Would all men were of thy mind:

I warrant thee, thou art an honest man,

And one that loves the king. But tell me,

What wouldst thou have me do?

FARMER.

Nothing, but procure me the king's letter to convey corn beyond seas;

for in England it is so good cheap, that a man can make no living by

selling thereof: therefore, if the king will grant me his letter, I

will at any time lend him five or six hundred pound, and perhaps never

ask it again; and I will not forget your pains.

PERIN.

Sir, fear not, I will do it for you, I warrant you;

For, I tell you, I can do much with the king.

HONESTY.

I believe you will do more than you will be

Commended for. The courtier resembleth

The jay, that decketh herself with the feathers

Of other birds, to make herself glorious;

So the courtier must be brave, though he be

Hang'd at the gallows. [_Aside_.

FARMER.

Well, sir, will it please you to come and dine

With me?

PERIN.

I thank you, sir, heartily.

FARMER.

But what's he there in your company?

PERIN.

A plain fellow, and his name is Honesty.

FARMER.

O, let him go where he will, for he shall

Not dine with me.

HONESTY.

See how the Farmer fears my name;

What would he do if he knew my nature?

But hear you, master courtier, shall I dine

With you? I promise you, sir, I am very hungry.

PERIN.

Truly, Honesty, if I were furnish'd with money,

I would not stick to give thee thy dinner;

But now, thou seest, I am but a guest myself.

FARMER.

Truly, honest fellow, if I were certain of my cheer, I would bid thee

to dinner, but know not my provision, I promise thee.

KNIGHT.

Hear you, sir; will it please you to take part of a piece of beef

with me? you shall be welcome.

PERIN.

I thank you, sir, but I must dine with my honest friend here, else

I would not refuse your gentle offer.

HONESTY.

See how he can use my name and not me:

But I perceive I may go dine with Duke Humphrey.[306]

God b'w'y', gentlemen; for none here hath occasion to use Honesty.

KNIGHT.

Yes, Honesty; thou shalt be my brother's guest and mine.

HONESTY.

Marry, and I thank you too; for now the world may say,

That Honesty dines with Hospitality to-day.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ OSRICK _and_ ALFRIDA.

OSRICK.

Daughter, see that you entertain the earl

As best beseems his state and thy degree.

He comes to see, whether Fame have worthily

Been niggard in commending thee or no:

So shall thy virtues be admired at the court,

And thou be praised for kind and debonaire;

For courtesy contents a courtier oft,

When nothing else seems pleasant in his eyes.

ALFRIDA.

Father, you shall perceive that Alfrida

Will do her best in honouring of your age,

To entertain the Earl of Cornwall so,

That he shall think him highly favoured,

Through loving speech and courteous entertain.

_Enter_ ETHENWALD.

OSRICK.

How fares my Lord of Cornwall? What, displeased?

Or troubled with a mood that's malecontent?

ETHENWALD.

Not malecontent, and yet I am not well,

For I am troubled with a painful rheum,

That, when I would be merry, troubles me;

And commonly it holds me in my eyes,

With such extremes that I can scantly see.

OSRICK.

How long have you been troubled with the pain?

Or is it a pain that you have usual?

Or is it some water that, by taking cold,

Is fall'n into your eyes and troubles you?

ETHENWALD.

I cannot tell, but sure it pains me much.

Nor did it ever trouble me till now;

For till I came to lodge within your house,

My eyes were clear, and I never felt the pain.

OSRICK.

I am sorry that my house should cause your grief.

Daughter, if you have any skill at all,

I pray you, use your cunning with the earl,

And see if you can ease him of his pain.

ALFRIDA.

Father, such skill as I received of late,

By reading many pretty-penn'd receipts,

Both for the ache of head and pain of eyes,

I will, if so it please the earl to accept it,

Endeavour what I may to comfort him.

My lord, I have waters of approved worth,

And such as are not common to be found;

Any of which, if it please your honour use them,

I am in hope will help you to your sight.

ETHENWALD.

No, matchless Alfrida, they will do me no good,

For I am troubled only when I look.

ALFRIDA.

On what, my lord, or whom?

ETHENWALD.

I cannot tell.

ALFRIDA.

Why, let me see your eyes, my lord; look upon me.

ETHENWALD.

Then 'twill be worse.

ALFRIDA.

What, if you look on me? then, I'll be gone.

ETHENWALD.

Nay, stay, sweet love, stay, beauteous Alfrida,

And give the Earl of Cornwall leave to speak.

Know, Alfrida, thy beauty hath subdued,

And captivate the Earl of Cornwall's heart:

Briefly, I love thee, seem I ne'er so bold,

So rude and rashly to prefer my suit;

And if your father give but his consent,

Eased be that pain that troubles Ethenwald:

And, this considered. Osrick shall prove

My father and his daughter be my love.

Speak, Osrick, shall I have her, ay or no?

OSRICK.

My lord, with all my heart: you've my consent,

If so my daughter please to condescend.

ETHENWALD.

But what say'th Alfrida?

ALFRIDA.

I say, my lord, that seeing my father grants,

I will not gainsay what his age thinks meet:

I do appoint myself, my lord, at your dispose.

ETHENWALD.

Well, Osrick, now you see your daughter's mine;

But tell me when shall be the wedding-day?

OSRICK.

On Monday next; till then you are my guest.

ETHENWALD.

Well, Osrick, when our nuptial rites are past,

I must to court of business to the king.

ALFRIDA.

Let that be as you please, my lord; but stay

Not long, for I shall hardly brook your absence then.

ETHENWALD.

Fear not, Alfrida, I will not stay there long.

But come, let us in; Father, pray lead the way.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter the_ KING _and_ DUNSTAN.

KING.

Tell me, Dunstan, what thinkest thou of the favours of kings?

DUNSTAN.

I think of kings' favours as of a marigold flower

That, as long as the sun shineth openeth her leaves

And with the least cloud closeth again:

Or like the violets in America, that in summe yield an odoriferous smell,

And in winter a most infectious savour:

For at every full sea they flourish, or at every dead ebb[307] they vade.

The fish palerna, being perfect white in the calm,

Yet turneth black with every storm.

Or like the trees in the deserts of Africa,

That flourish but while the south-west wind bloweth:

Even so, my lord, the favours of kings to them they favour;

For as their favours give life, so their frowns yield death.

KING.

Well said, Dunstan: but what merits he, that dissembles with his

sovereign?

DUNSTAN.

In my opinion, my lord, he merits death.

KING.

Then assure thyself, if Ethenwald dissemble, he shall die. But who

comes here? Perin, what news, that thou comest in such haste? and

what is he that bears thee company?

[_Enter_ PERIN _and the_ FARMER.]

PERIN.

It is, my gracious lord, an honest man, and one,

It seems, that loves your majesty; for as your grace

Gave me in charge, I went about into the country,

To see what sums of money I could make.

Among the chiefest of the commonalty:

And 'mongst the richest knights that I could find,

They would lend your grace at most but twenty pound,

And every squire would lend your grace but ten.

Then came I, 'mongst the rest, to this plain man,

And asked him what he would lend the king.

He answered, sir, you see I am but poor,

Not half so wealthy as a knight or squire,

And yet, in sign of duty to his grace,

I will lend his majesty two hundred pound.

KING.

Thanks, honest fellow, for thy love to us;

And if I may but pleasure thee in ought,

Command me to the uttermost I may.

England hath too few men of thy good mind.

_Enter_ HONESTY _and_ PIERS PLOWMAN.

Honesty, what news? where hast thou been so long?

HONESTY.

Ah, my lord, I have been searching for a privy knave;

One, my lord, that feeds upon the poor commons,

And makes poor Piers Plowman wear a thread-bare coat.

It is a farmer, my lord, which buys up all the corn in the market,

And sends it away beyond seas, and thereby feeds the enemy.

KING.

Alas, poor Piers Plowman! what ailest thou?

Why dost thou weep? Peace, man: if any have

Offended thee, thou shalt be made amends

Unto the most.

PIERS PLOWMAN.

I beseech your grace

To pity my distress. There is an unknown thief

That robs the commonwealth, and makes me and my

Poor wife and children beg for maintenance.

The time hath been, my lord, _in diebus illis_,

That the ploughman's coat was of good homespun russet cloth,

Whereof neither I nor my servants had no want,

Though now both they and I want,

And all by this unknown farmer;

For there cannot be an acre of ground to be sold,

But he will find money to buy it: nay, my lord,

He hath money to buy whole lordships, and yet but a farmer.

I have kept a poor house, where I dwell this fourscore year,

Yet was I never driven to want till now:

I beseech your grace, as you have still been just,

To seek redress for this oppression.

I beseech your grace, read my humble petition.

[_Delivers it to the_ KING.]

KING.

Let me see: The humble petition of poor Piers Plowman.

Alas, poor Piers! I have heard my father say,

That Piers Plowman was one of the best members in a commonwealth;

For his table was never empty of bread, beef, and beer,

As a help to all distressed travellers. But where thou tellest me

I harbour him, and he is daily under my elbow,

I assure thee, 'tis more than I know; for I harbour

None but this, which is my honest friend.

HONESTY.

Is this your honest friend? the devil a is. [_Aside_].

My lord, this is he: if you doubt my word to be true, call in Clerk

of the Assizes. Now shall your grace see, how Honesty can shake out

a knave in this company.

_Enter_ CLERK OF THE ASSIZE.

Sirrah, tell me who hath most poor men in suit at this Sizes?

CLERK.

That hath Walter Would-have-more:

He hath one poor man in suit for certain barley,

And another, for that his horse was taken in his corn.

HONESTY.

But what indictments are against him? read them.

CLERK. [_Read the indictment_.

First, he hath conveyed corn out of the land to feed the enemy. Next,

he hath turned poor Piers Plowman out of doors by his great raising of

rents. Next, he is known to be a common disturber of men of their quiet,

by serving writs on them, and bringing them to London, to their utter

undoing. Also, he keeps corn in his barn, and suffers his brethren and

neighbours to lie and want; and thereby makes the market so dear, that

the poor can buy no corn.

KING.

Enough! Now, fie upon thee, thou monster of nature,

To seek the utter undoing of many, to enrich thyself.--

Honesty, take him, and use him as thou wilt.

HONESTY.

Come, sir, I think I found out your knavery.

Away, sir, and bear your fellow company.

[_Exeunt omnes but the_ KING _and_ DUNSTAN.

_Enter_ ETHENWALD.

ETHENWALD.

Health and good hap befall your majesty.

KING.

Ethenwald, welcome; how fares our beauteous love?

Be brief, man: what, will she love or no?

ETHENWALD.

Then, as your grace did give to me in charge,

I have discharged my duty every way,

And communed with the maid you so commend:

For when the sun, rich father of the day,

Eye of the world, king of the spangled vale,

Had run the circuit of the horizon,

And that Artofelex, the night's bright star,

Had brought fair Luna from the purpled main,

Where she was dallying with her wanton love,

To lend her light to weary travellers,

Then 'twas my chance to arrive at Osrick's house:

But being late, I could not then unfold

The message that your grace had given in charge;

But in the morn Aurora did appear,

At sight of whom the welkin straight did clear.

Then was the spangled veil of heaven drawn in,

And Phoebus rose, like heaven's imperial king;

And ere the sun was mounted five degrees,

The maid came down, and gave me the good day.

KING.

But being come, what said she then?

How likest thou her? what, is she fair or no?

ETHENWALD.

My lord, she is coloured like the Scythia maid,[308]

That challenged Lucio at the Olympian games.

Well-bodied, but her face was something black,

Like those that follow household business:

Her eyes were hollow, sunk into her head,

Which makes her have a cloudy countenance.

She hath a pretty tongue, I must confess,

And yet, my lord, she is nothing eloquent.

KING.

Why then, my lord, there's nothing good in her.

ETHENWALD.

Yes, my lord, she is fit to serve an earl or so,

But far unfit for Edgar, England's king.

KING.

So then she is fit for Ethenwald, our Cornish earl,

But far unfit for Edgar, England's king.

Well, Ethenwald, I sound your policy:

But tell me, i'faith, dost thou love the maid?

Speak truly, man; dissemble not.

ETHENWALD.

I do, my gracious lord, and therewithal

Entreat your majesty to pardon me.

KING.

Ethenwald, I am content to pardon thee,

And will be with thee myself ere long,

To do thee honour in thy marriage:

And therefore, Ethenwald, thou may'st depart,

And leave us till we visit thee at home.

ETHENWALD.

My gracious lord, I humbly take my leave.

DUNSTAN.

If it please your grace, pardon me, and give me leave,

I would gladly bring my nephew on the way.

KING.

With all my heart, Dunstan; but stay not long.

ETHENWALD.

I humbly take my leave of your majesty.

[_Exeunt_ DUNSTAN _and_ ETHENWALD.

[_Enter_ PERIN.]

KING.

Farewell, Ethenwald. But, Perin, tell me now,

What dost thou think of Alfrida?

Is she so foul as Ethenwald reports her?

Believe me, then, she had been unfit for me.

PERIN.

My gracious lord, Ethenwald hath dissembled with your majesty,

For Alfrida is fair and virtuous;

For last night, being in private conference,

He told me he had devised a mean

To colour with the king by forg'd excuse.

No, no (quoth he), my Alfrida is fair,

As is the radiant North star crystalline,

That guides the wet and weary traveller,

Sous'd with the surge of Neptune's wat'ry main.

And thus, my lord, he fell to praising her,

And from his pocket straight he drew this counterfeit.[309]

And said 'twas made by[310] beauteous Alfrida.

KING.

A face more fair than is the sun's bright beams,

Or snow-white Alps beneath fair Cynthia!

Who would refuse with Hercules to spin,

When such fair faces bears us company?

Fair Polyxena never was so fair:

Nor she that was proud love to Troylus.

Great Alexander's love, Queen of Amazons,

Was not so fair as is fair Alfrida.

But, Perin, be thou secret to the king,

And I will sound these subtle practises.

And, Ethenwald, be sure I will quittance thee,

And teach thee how to dally with thy king.

But, Perin, let's to court until to-morn,

And then we'll take horse and away.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter mad men of Gotham, to wit, a_ MILLER,

_a_ COBBLER, _and a_ SMITH.

MILLER.

Now, let us constult among ourselves,

How to misbehave ourselves to the king's worship,

Jesus bless him! and when he comes, to deliver him this petition,

I think the Smith were best to do it, for he's a wise man.

COBBLER.

Neighbour, he shall not do it, as long as Jeffrey the translater[311]

is Mayor of the town.

SMITH.

And why, I pray? because I would have put you from the Mace?

MILLER.

No, not for that, but because he is no good fellow;

Nor he will not spend his pot for company.

SMITH.

Why, sir, there was a god[312] of our occupation; and I charge you

by virtue of his godhead to let me deliver the petition.

COBBLER.

But soft, you: your god was a cuckold, and his godhead was the horn,

and that's the arms of the godhead you call upon. Go, you are put

down with your occupation; and now I will not grace you so much as

to deliver the petition for you.

SMITH.

What, dispraise our trade?

COBBLER.

Nay, neighbour, be not angry, for I'll stand to nothing only but this--

SMITH.

But what? bear witness a gives me the but, and I am not willing to

shoot. Cobbler, I will talk with you: nay, my bellows, my coal-trough,

and my water shall enter arms with you for our trade. O neighbour,

I cannot bear it, nor I will not bear it!

MILLER.

Hear you, neighbour; I pray consuade yourself and be not wilful, and

let the cobbler deliver it: you shall see him mar all.

SMITH.

At your request I will commit myself to you,

And lay myself open to you, like an oyster.

MILLER.

I'll tell him what you say. Hear you, neighbour, we have constulted to

let you deliver the petition: do it wisely, for the credit of the town.

COBBLER.

Let me alone, for the king's carminger[313] was here;

He says the king will be here anon.

SMITH.

But hark! by the mass, he comes.

_Enter the_ KING, DUNSTAN, _and_ PERIN.

KING.

How now, Perin; who have we here?

COBBLER.

We, the townsmen of Gotham,

Hearing your grace would come this way,

Did think it good for you to stay.--

But hear you, neighbours, bid somebody ring the bells.--

And we are come to you alone, to deliver our petition[314].

KING.

What is it, Perin? I pray thee, read.

PERIN.

Nothing but to have a license to brew strong ale thrice a week; and he

that comes to Gotham, and will not spend a penny on a pot of ale, if he

be a-dry, that he may fast.

KING.

Well, sirs, we grant your petition.

COBBLER.

We humbly thank your royal majesty.

KING.

Come, Dunstan; let's away.

[_Exeunt omnes_.

_Enter_ ETHENWALD _alone_.

ETHENWALD.

Ethenwald, be advised: the king has sent to thee;

Nay, more, he means to come and visit thee.

But why? Ay, there's the question.

Why, 'tis for this; to see if he can find

A front whereon to graft a pair of horns:

But in plain terms he comes to cuckold me.

And for he means to do it without suspect,

He sends me word he means to visit me.

The king is amorous, and my wife is kind,

So kind, I fear, that she will quickly yield

To any motion that the king shall make,

Especially if the motion be of love;

For Pliny writes, women are made like wax,

Apt to receive any impression,

Whose minds are like the Janamyst,

That eats, yet cries, and never is satisfied.

Well, be as it is, for I'll be sure of this,

It shall be no ways prejudice to me;

For I will set a screen before the fire,

And so prevent what otherwise would ensue.

'Twere good I questioned with my father first,

To hear how he['s] affected towards the king.

What ho!

_Enter_ OSRICK _and_ ALFRIDA.

OSRICK.

Ethenwald, my son, what news?

ETHENWALD.

Why ask you? I am sure you have heard the news.

OSRICK.

Not yet, I promise you, my lord.

ETHENWALD.

Why then 'tis thus: the king doth mean to come and visit you.

OSRICK.

And welcome shall his majesty be to me,

That in the wane of my decreasing years,

Vouchsafes this honour to Earl Osrick's house.

ETHENWALD.

So then you mean to entertain him well?

OSRICK.

What else, my son?

ETHENWALD.

Nay, as you will:

But hear you, wife: what do you think in this--

That Edgar means to come and be your guest?

ALFRIDA.

I think, my lord, he shall be welcome then,

And I hope that you will entertain him so,

That he may know how Osrick honours him.

And I will be attired in cloth of biss[315],

Beset with Orient pearl, fetch'd from rich India[316].

And all my chamber shall be richly [decked,]

With arras hanging, fetch'd from Alexandria.

Then will I have rich counterpoints and musk,

Calambac[317] and cassia, sweet-smelling amber-grease,

That he may say, Venus is come from heaven,

And left the gods to marry Ethenwald.

ETHENWALD.

'Swouns! they are both agreed to cuckold me. [_Aside_.

But hear you, wife; while I am master of the bark,

I mean to keep the helmster in my hand.

My meaning is, you shall be rul'd by me,

In being disguised, till the king be gone;

And thus it shall be, for I will have it so.

The king hath never seen thee, I am sure,

Nor shall he see thee now, if I can choose;

For thou shalt be attir'd in some base weeds,

And Kate the kitchen-maid shall put on thine:

For being richly tired, as she shall be,

She will serve the turn to keep him company.

OSRICK.

Why, men that hear of this will make a scorn of you.

ETHENWALD.

And he that lies with this will make a horn for me. [_Aside_.]

It is enough: it must be so.

ALFRIDA.

Methinks 'twere better otherways.

ETHENWALD.

I think not so. Will you be gone?--

[_Exit_ ALFRIDA.

Father, let me alone; I'll break her of her will.

We that are married to young wives, you see,

Must have a special care unto their honesty;

For should we suffer them to have their will,

They are apt, you know, to fall to any ill.

But here comes the king.

_Enter the_ KING, DUNSTAN, _and_ PERIN, _to_ [them] ETHENWALD[318].

KING.

Earl Osrick, you must needs hold us excused,

Though boldly thus unbid we visit you:

But know, the cause that moved us leave our court

Was to do honour to Earl Ethenwald,

And see his lovely bride, fair Alfrida.

OSRICK.

My gracious lord, as welcome shall you be,

To me, my daughter, and my son-in-law,

As Titus was unto the Roman senators,

When he had made a conquest on the Goths;

That, in requital of his service done,

Did offer him the imperial diadem.

As they in Titus, we in your grace, still find

The perfect figure of a princely mind.

KING.

Thanks, Osrick; but I think I am not welcome,

Because I cannot see fair Alfrida.

Osrick, I will not stay, nor eat with thee,

Till I have seen the Earl of Cornwall's wife.

ETHENWALD.

If it please your majesty to stay with us,

My wife shall wait as handmaid on your majesty,

And in her duty show her husband's love.

And in good time, my lord, see where she comes.

[_Enter the_ KITCHEN-MAID, _in_ ALFRIDA's _apparel_.]

[_Aside_.] Alfrida, you must leave your kitchen-tricks,

And use no words but princely majesty.

MAID.

Now Jesus bless your honourable grace.

Come, I pray, sit down: you are welcome by my troth.

As God save me, here's never a napkin: fie, fie!

Come on; I pray eat some plums, they be sugar.

Here's good drink, by Lady: why do you not eat?

KING.

Nay, pray thee, eat, Alfrida: it is enough for me to see thee eat.

MAID.

I thank you heartily. By my troth, here's never a cushion.

By my troth. I'll knock you anon; go to.

PERIN.

My lord, this is not Alfrida: this is the kitchen-maid.

KING.

Peace, Perin, I have found their subtlety.--

Ethenwald, I pray thee, let me see thy kitchen-maid.

Methinks it is a pretty homely wench:

I promise thee, Ethenwald, I like her well.

ETHENWALD.

My lord, she is a homely kitchen-maid,

And one whose bringing up hath been but rude,

And far unfit for Edgar's company;

But if your grace want merry company,

I will send for ladies wise and courteous,

To be associates with your majesty.

Or if your grace will have musicians sent for,

I will fetch your grace the best in all this land.

KING.

Ethenwald, no: I will have the kitchen-maid;

And therefore, if you love me, send for her,

For, till she come, I cannot be content.

ETHENWALD.

Father, I will not fetch her. 'Swouns! see, where she comes.

_Enter_ ALFRIDA _in the_ KITCHEN-MAID'S _attire_.

ALFRIDA.

Successful fortune and his heart's content

Daily attend the person of the king.

And, Edgar, know that I am Alfrida, daughter to Osrick,

And lately made the Earl of Cornwall's wife.

KING.

Why, is not this Alfrida?

ALFRIDA.

No, my good lord; it is the kitchen-maid,

Whom Ethenwald, in too much love to me,

Hath thus attir'd to dally with the king.

MAID.

By my troth, my lord, she lies. Go to;

I'll course you by and by.

KING.

Away, base strumpet, get thee from my sight.

MAID.

Go your ways; you are a cogging knave, I warrant you.

[_Exit_.

KING.

Base Ethenwald, dissembler that thou art,

So to dissemble with thy sovereign;

And afterward, under a show of love,

Thou cam'st to soothe thy lesing to the king,

Meaning by that to make me to conceive,

That thy intent was just and honourable.

But, see, at last thou hast deceived thyself,

And Edgar hath found out thy subtlety;

Which to requite think Edgar is thy enemy,

And vows to be revenged for this ill.--

Go to thy husband, beauteous Alfrida,

For Edgar can subdue affects in love.

ALFRIDA.

Thanks, gracious king, mirror of courtesy,

Whose virtuous thoughts bewray thy princely mind,

And makes thee famous 'mongst thy enemies:

For what is he that hears of Edgar's name,

And will not yield him praise as he deserves.

Nor hath your grace ever been praised more,

Or term'd more just in any action,

Than you shall be in conquering your desires,

And yielding pardon to Earl Ethenwald.

KING.

Will you be gone?

ALFRIDA.

My gracious lord, I humbly take my leave.

[ALFRIDA _and_ ETHENWALD _Exeunt_.

KING.

How am I wrong'd, and yet without redress!

DUNSTAN.

Have patience, good my lord, and call to mind,

How you have lived praised for virtuous government.

You have subdued lust unto this day,

And been reputed wise in government,

And will you blemish all your honours got,

In being termed a foul adulterer?

KING.

Dunstan, forbear, for I will have it so:

It boots thee not to counsel me in this,

For I have sworn the death of Ethenwald;

And he shall die, or Edgar will not live.

Dunstan, it is enough; I am resolved.

[_Exit_.

DUNSTAN.

Nay, if it be so, then Ethenwald shall not die?

And since entreaties cannot serve the turn,

I will make proof for once what art will do.

Astoroth[319], ascende! veni, Astoroth, Astoroth, veni!

_Enter the_ DEVIL.

DEVIL.

What wilt thou?

DUNSTAN.

Tell me, what means the king?

DEVIL.

I will not tell thee.

DUNSTAN.

I charge thee, by the eternal living God,

That keeps the prince of darkness bound in chains,

And by that sun that thou wouldst gladly see,

By heaven and earth, and every living thing,

Tell me that which I did demand of thee.

DEVIL.

Then thus: the king doth mean to murther Ethenwald.

DUNSTAN.

But where is the king?

DEVIL.

Seeking for Ethenwald.

DUNSTAN.

But I'll prevent him: follow me invisible.

DEVIL.

I will.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter the_ PRIEST.

PRIEST.

I have been this morning with a friend of mine,

That would borrow a small sum of money of me;

But I have learn'd the best assurance a man can have

In such a matter is a good pawn of twice the value,

Or bonds sufficient for five times the quantity.

He is my near kinsman, I confess, and a clergyman,

But fifty shillings is money; and though I think

I might trust him simply with it for a twelvemonth,

Where he craves it but for a month, yet simply I

Will not be so simple; for I will borrow

His gelding to ride to the term, and keep away a just fortnight.

If then he pay me money, I will deliver him his horse.

I would be loth to lose my money, or crave assurance of my kinsman,

But this may be done to try me, and I mean likewise to try him.

This is plain, though truly, brethren, something subtle.

But here comes one would fain take my house of me.

NEIGHBOUR.

Sir, I am a poor man, and I will give you thirty shillings a year:

if I may have it, you shall be sure of your money.

PRIEST.

Truly, brother in Christ, I cannot afford it of the price;

A must let my house to live, I ask no gains. But who comes here?

_Enter_ HONESTY _and a_ BEGGAR.

BEGGAR.

I beseech you, good master, for God's sake, give one penny to the poor,

lame, and blind; good master, give something.

PRIEST.

Fie upon thee, lazy fellow, art thou not ashamed to beg? Read the

blessed saying of St Paul, which is, Thou shalt get thy living with

the sweat of thy brows, and he that will not labour is not worthy

to eat.

HONESTY.

Ay, but he remembers not where Christ saith,

He that giveth a cup of cold water in my name shall be blessed.

[_Aside_.]

BEGGAR.

Alas, sir, you see I am old.

PRIEST.

But that's no reason you should beg.

BEGGAR.

Alas, sir, age coming on me, and my sight being gone, I hope, sir,

you will pardon me, though I beg; and therefore, for God's sake,

one penny, good master.

PRIEST.

Why, I tell thee no, for the Spirit doth not move me thereunto.

And in good time, look in the blessed Proverb of Solomon, which is,

Good deeds do not justify a man; therefore, I count it sin to give

thee anything.

HONESTY.

See how he can turn and wind the Scripture to his own use; but he

remembers not where Christ say'th, He that giveth to the poor lendeth

unto the Lord, and he shall be repaid sevenfold: but the Priest forgets

that, or at leastwise he will not remember it. [_Aside_.]

BEGGAR.

Now, fie upon thee, is this the pureness of your religion?

God will reward you, no doubt, for your hard dealing.

PRIEST.

Care not thou for that. Well, neighbour, if thou wilt have my house,

friend and brother in Christ, it will cost you forty shillings--'tis

well worth it truly, provided this, I may not stay for my rent: I might

have a great deal more, but I am loth to exact on my brother.

HONESTY.

And yet he will sell all a poor man hath, to his shirt, for one

quarter's rent. [_Aside_.]

NEIGHBOUR.

God's blessing on your heart, sir, you made a godly exhortation

on Sunday.

PRIEST.

Ay, brother, the Spirit did move me thereunto. Fie upon usury, when

a man will cut his brother's throat for a little lucre: fie upon it,

fie! We are born one to live by another, and for a man to let his own

as he may live, 'tis allowed by the word of God; but for usury and

oppression, fie on it, 'tis ungodly. But, tell me, will you have it?

NEIGHBOUR.

I will give you, as I have proffered you.

PRIEST.

Truly, I cannot afford it, I would I could; but I must go to our

exercise of prayer, and after I must go see a farm that I should have.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ DUNSTAN _and_ PERIN, _with the_ KING.

DUNSTAN.

Most gracious prince, vouchsafe to hear me speak,

In that the law of kindred pricks me on;

And though I speak contrary to your mind,

Yet do I build on hope you will pardon me.

Were I as eloquent as Demosthenes,

Or like Isocrates were given to oratory,

Your grace, no doubt, will think the time well-spent,

And I should gain me commendations:

But for my note is tuned contrary,

I must entreat your grace to pardon me,

If I do jar in my delivery.

KING.

Why, Dunstan, thou hast found us gracious still,

Nor will we pull our settled love from thee,

Until we find thy dealings contrary,

But if thy parley be for Ethenwald,

That base dissembler with his sovereign,

'Twere better leave to speak in his excuse,

Than by excusing him gain our ill-will:

For I am minded like the salamander-stone

That, fir'd with anger, will not in haste be quench'd.

Though wax be soft, and apt to receive any impression,

Yet will hard metal take no form, except you melt the same.

So mean men's minds may move as they think good,

But kings' just dooms are irrevocable.

DUNSTAN.

'Tis not enough, where lust doth move the offence.

KING.

Why, councillors may not with kings dispense.

DUNSTAN.

A councillor may speak, if he see his prince offend.

KING.

And for his counsel rue it in the end.

But Dunstan, leave: you urge us over far.

We pardon what is past; but speak no more.

DUNSTAN.

Nay, pardon me, for I will speak my mind.

Your grace may call to mind proud Marius' fall,

That through his wilful mind lost life and empire;

And Nimrod, that built huge Babylon,

And thought to make a tow'r to check the clouds,

Was soon dismay'd by unknown languages;

For no one knew what any other spake:

Which made him to confess, though 'twere too late,

He had made offence in tempting of the Lord.

Remember David, Solomon, and the rest;

Nor had proud Holofernes lost his head,

Had he not been a foul adulterer.

KING.

Dunstan, forbear, and let this answer thee:

Thou art too presumptuous in reproving me,

For I have sworn, as truly as I live,

That I will never pardon Ethenwald.

DUNSTAN.

Did you but see the man, I am assur'd

You would not choose but pardon Ethenwald.

PERIN.

Why, Dunstan, you have seen as well as I,

That Ethenwald hath dissembled with the king.

My gracious lord, first cut that traitor down,

And then will others fear the like amiss.

DUNSTAN.

I tell thee, Perin, were the earl in place,

Thou wouldst eat these words utter'd in his disgrace.

Veni, Astoroth![320]

And, in good time, see where he comes. [_Aside_.

_Here enter_ ALFRIDA _disguised, with the_ DEVIL,

[_disguised as_ ETHENWALD.]

KING.

But tell me, Dunstan, is this Alfrida?

DUNSTAN.

It is, my gracious lord, and this is Ethenwald,

That lays his breast wide open to your grace,

If so it please your grace to pardon him.

KING.

Yes, Dunstan, I am well content to pardon him.

Ethenwald, stand up, and rise up, Alfrida,

For Edgar now gives pardon to you both.

DUNSTAN.

Astoroth, away! [_Aside_.]

My gracious lord, Dunstan will not forget

This unknown favour shown Earl Ethenwald;

For which account my nephew and myself

Do yield both lives and goods at your dispose.

KING.

Thanks, Dunstan, for thy honourable love:

And thou deserv'st to be a councillor,

For he deserves not other to command,

That hath no power to master his desire;

For Locrine, being the eldest son of Brute,

Did doat so far upon an Almain maid,

And was so ravished with her pleasing sight,

That full seven years he kept her under earth,

Even in the lifetime of fair Gwendolin:

Which made the Cornish men to rise in arms,

And never left, till Locrine was slain.

And now, though late, at last I call to mind

What wretched ends fell to adulterers.

DUNSTAN.

And if your grace call Abram's tale to mind,

When that Egyptian Pharaoh crav'd his wife,

You will, no doubt, forgive my nephew's guilt;

Who by the merry jest he showed your grace,

Did save your honour and her chastity.

KING.

We take it so; and for amends, Ethenwald,

Give me thy hand and we are friends;

And love thy wife, and live together long,

For Edgar hath forgot all former wrong.

ETHENWALD.

Thanks, gracious king, and here upon my knee

I rest to be disposed, as you please.

KING.

Enough, Ethenwald. But who comes here?

_Enter_ HONESTY.

HONESTY.

Why, I think I have taken in hand an endless task,

To smell a knave: 'tis more than a dog can do.

I have disguised myself of purpose to find

A couple of knaves, which are yet behind.

The next knave is a priest, call'd John the precise,

That with counterfeit holiness blinds the people's eyes.

This is one of them, that will say it is a shame

For men to swear and blaspheme God's holy name;

Yet if a make a good sermon but once in a year,

A will be forty times in a tavern making good cheer:

Yet in the church he will read with such sobriety,

That you would think him very precise and of great honesty. [_Aside_.]

KING.

What, Honesty, hast thou despatch'd, and found these privy knaves?

HONESTY.

I shall do anon: I have them in scent; but I will be gone.

[_Exit_.

_Enter_ PRIEST.

PRIEST.

Good Lord! I praise God I am come from our morning's exercise,

Where I have profited myself, and e[d]ified my brethren

In shewing the way to salvation by my doctrine;

And now I am going to the court to prefer my petition.

I would give a hundred pound it were granted;

'Tis a thing of nothing: but here comes one of the court.

_Enter_ HONESTY.

God save you, brother in Christ: are you towards the king?

HONESTY.

Ay, marry am I: what then? why dost thou ask?

PRIEST.

Nothing, sir, but I would desire you to stand my friend,

To get me the king's hand and seal to this letter.

I would not use it, sir, to hinder any man for a thousand pound;

For indeed I am a clergyman by my profession.

'Tis nothing, sir, but, as you see, to have the king's seal

To carry tin, lead, wool, and broadcloths beyond seas,

For you know, sir, every man will make the most he can of his own;

And for my part, I use it but for a present necessity,

If you will undertake to do it, I'll give you a hundred pound.

HONESTY.

I thank you, sir, but I am afraid the king will hardly grant it: why,

'tis an undoing to the commonwealth;

But, truly, I will move the king to hang you, priest, i'faith.--

[_Aside_.

May it please your grace to grant me my petition,

For I offer it your grace in pure devotion.

KING.

O monstrous! Dunstan, didst thou ever hear the like?

Now fie upon the base villain! lay hands on him.

HONESTY.

On me? nay, on him. Priest, I give your petition to the king,

And I will speak to him you may be but hanged;

For if you should live, till the king granted your petition,

The very ravens would pick out thine eyes living;

And therefore 'twere better you were hanged, to save the birds a labour.

KING.

Now, Honesty, hast thou done? Is here all?

HONESTY.

O no, my lord, for there are so many behind,

That I am afraid my work will never have an end.

But I see by the priest's looks he lacks company:

Stay awhile, my lord, I'll fetch another presently.

[_Exit_.

KING.

Fie, graceless man! hast thou no fear of God,

To withhold thee from these lawless motions?

Why, thou shouldst be as [a] messenger of God,

And hate deceit and wicked avarice:

But thou art one of those whom God doth hate,

And thy vild deeds will witness 'gainst thy soul,

And make the most abominable in his sight,

That made thee, wretch, but to a better end,

Than thus to wrong his sacred Deity.

Now, fie upon thee, monster of a man?

That for to gain thyself a private gain,

Wouldst seek the undoing of a commonwealth:

And though thou bide[321] ten thousand torments here,

They cannot quit thee, where thou shalt appear.

[_Enter_ HONESTY.]

HONESTY.

A prize! though it be long, I have found him at last;

But I could not bring him with me,

And therefore I pinn'd a paper on his shoulder,

Meaning thereby to mark him for the gallows.

But husht, here he comes.

_Enter_ PERIN.

KING.

What, Perin? I cannot think that Perin will be false to me.

HONESTY.

Why no, for he is false to himself: look in his pocket and see.

This is but a false writ that he hath used,

Unknown to your majesty, and levied great sums of money,

And bribed upon your poor Commons extremely.

How say you, my lord, is this true or no?

KING.

Honesty, thou sayest true. Why, impious wretch!

Ingrateful wretch that thou art,

To injure him that always held thee dear.

Believe me, Dunstan, I durst well have sworn

That Perin had not hatch'd so base a thought.

HONESTY.

Ay, but your grace sees you are deceived.

But will your grace grant me one boon?

KING.

What's that, Honesty?

HONESTY.

That I may have the punishing of them,

Whom I have so laboured to find.

KING.

With all my heart, Honesty: use them as thou wilt.

HONESTY.

I thank your grace. Go fetch the other two.[322]

Now to you, Cutbert Cutpurse the Coneycatcher:

Thy judgment is to stand at the market-cross,

And have thy cursed tongue pinn'd to thy breast,

And there to stand for men to wonder at,

Till owls and night ravens pick out thy cursed eyes.

CONEYCATCHER.

Good Honesty, be more merciful.

HONESTY.

You know my mind, O Walter that-would-have-more, and you shall have

judgment I mean, which is: to be carried into a corn-field, and there

have your legs and hands cut off, because you loved corn so well, and

there rest till the crows pick out thine eyes.--

But now to you, that will do nothing,

Except the Spirit move you thereunto.

You shall, for abusing the blessed word of God,

And mocking the divine order of ministry,

Whereby you have led the ignorant into errors,

You, I say,

As you were shameless in your shameful dealing,

Shall, to your shame, and the utter shame of all

Bad-minded men, that live as thou hast done,

Stand in Finsbury fields, near London,

And there, as a dissembling hypocrite, be shot to death.

PRIEST.

Good Honesty, be more favourable than so.

HONESTY.

Truly, no; the Spirit doth not move me thereunto.--

But who is next? what, Perin, a courtier and a cosener too!

I have a judgment yet in store for thee:

And for because I will use thee favourably,

I'faith, thy judgment is to be but hanged.

But where? even at Tyburn, in a good twopenny halter:

And though you could never abide the seas,

Yet now, against your will, you must bear your sail, namely, your sheet,

And in a cart be tow'd up Holborn-hill.

Would all men living, like these, in this land,

Might be judged so at Honesty's hand.

KING.

Well, Honesty, come, follow us to court,

Where thou shalt be rewarded for thy pain.

HONESTY.

I thank your grace. You that will damn yourselves for lucre's sake,

And make no conscience to deceive the poor;

You that be enemies of the commonwealth,

To send corn over to enrich the enemy;

And you that do abuse the word of God,

And send over wool and tin, broad-cloth and lead;

And you that counterfeit kings' privy-seals,

And thereby rob the willing-minded commonalty;

I warn you all that use such subtle villainy,

Beware lest you, like these, be found by Honesty.

Take heed, I say, for if I catch you once,

Your bodies shall be meat for crows,

And the devil shall have your bones.

And thus, though long, at last we make an end,

Desiring you to pardon what's amiss,

And weigh the work, though it be grossly penn'd.

Laugh at the faults, and weigh it as it is,

And Honesty will pray upon his knee,

God cut them off, that wrong the prince or commonalty.

And may her days of bliss never have end,

Upon whose life so many lives depend.

FINIS.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] It is one of the six additional dramas which the Editor of the

present volume caused to be [first] inserted in the impression which

came out between the years 1825 and 1827. It may be here stated that his

duties, from various circumstances, were almost solely confined to these

six dramas, four of them by Robert Greene, by George Peele, by Thomas

Lodge, and by Thomas Nash, no specimens of whose works had been

previously included: the two other plays, then new to the collection,

were "The World and the Child," and "Appius and Virginia."

[2] See "Extracts from the Registers of the Stationers' Company"

(printed for the Shakespeare Society), vol. ii. p. 230.

[3] [The orthography has now been modernised in conformity with the

principle adopted with regard to the rest of the collection.]

[4] "Extracts from the Accounts of the Revels at Court." by Peter

Cunningham, Esq. (printed for the Shakespeare Society), p. 176.

[5] Ibid. p. 36.

[6] Printed for the Shakespeare Society, in 1845, from the original most

valuable MS. preserved in Dulwich College.

[7] Hardly so, perhaps, as scarcely any drama of this date occurs

without such a prayer. The earliest in which we have seen the prayer for

Elizabeth is the interlude of "Nice Wanton," 1560.

[8] It seems more than probable that "Tarlton's Jig of the Horse-load of

Fools" (inserted in the introduction to the reprint of his "Jests" by

the Shakespeare Society, from a MS. belonging to the Editor of this

volume), was written for his humorous recitation by some popular author.

[9] "Palladis Tamia. Wits Treasury, &c., by Francis Meres, Maister of

Artes of both Universities." 8vo. 1598, fol. 286.

[10] "Hist. of Engl. Dram. Poetry and the Stage," i. 255.

[11] See "Memoirs of the Principal Actors in the Plays of Shakespeare"

(printed for the Shakespeare Society), p. 131. If Bucke were a young

actor in 1584, he had a natural son buried in 1599, but it is not stated

how old that son then was.

[12] See the entry of it by Henry Kirkham in the "Extracts from the

Registers of the Stationers' Company" (printed for the Shakespeare

Society), vol. ii. p. 61.

[13] We quote from Mr Utterson's, on all accounts, valuable reprint of

Guilpin's collection of Epigrams and Satires, which was limited to

sixteen copies. The same gentleman has conferred many other

disinterested favours of the same kind on the lovers of our ancient

literature.

[14] Percy's Reliques, i. 226, edit. 1812. There are copies in the

Roxburghe, Pepys, and Ashmole collections.

[15] In his "Jew of Malta" reprinted in the Rev. A. Dyce's edit. of

"The Works of Christopher Marlowe," i. 227.

[16] This quotation will appear in the next, the third, volume of

"Extracts from the Registers of the Stationers' Company," which is now

in the press of the Shakespeare Society. [This third volume never

appeared.]

[17] The question when blank verse was first employed in our public

theatres is considered and discussed in the "History of English Dramatic

Poetry and the Stage," iii. 107, and the whole of Marlowe's Prologue, in

which he may be said to claim the credit of its introduction, is quoted

on p. 116.

[18] This practice of addressing the audience was continued to a

comparatively late date, and Thomas Heywood's Plays, as reprinted by the

Shakespeare Society, afford various instances of it.

[19] Besides "1 day," in the body of the entry ("Henslowe's Diary," p.

28), the letters _ne_ are inserted in the margin, by which also the

manager indicated that the piece performed was a _new_ play. Both these

circumstances were unnoticed by, because unknown to, Malone when he had

the original MS. from Dulwich College for some years in his hands.

[20] See "Memoirs of Edward Alleyn," founder of Dulwich College (printed

for the Shakespeare Society), p. 29, &c.

[21] This memorandum, securing the right of publication to Richard

Jones, is also contained in the forthcoming volume of "Extracts from the

Registers of the Stationers' Company," to be issued by the

Shakespeare Society.

[22] See his "Diary," pp. 43-48, 50, 51, 54, 55, 57, 62, and 82.

[23] "Elfrid," afterwards remodelled under the title of "Athelwold," by

Aaron Hill; and "Elfrida," by William Mason. At an earlier date the

story, more or less altered, furnished a subject to Rymer and

Ravenscroft.

[24] See vol. viii. of the former edition of Dodsley's "Old Plays," p.

165; and Rev. A. Dyce's edition of Robert Greene's Works, i. 14.

[25] Commune.

[26] [The Pope.]

[27] [Nimrod.]

[28] [Because.]

[29] This and the other marginalia are Hypocrisy's _asides_. By _Ambo_

he seems to signify, You knaves, the two of you!

[30] [Until.]

[31] [Fellow.]

[32] [Query, _logic_.]

[33] [Thus.]

[34] [Good.]

[35] [Old copy, _wynde_.]

[36] [See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 103. The origin of the term

there suggested seems to be supported by the words put into the mouth of

_Hypocrisy_ here.]

[37] [Old copy, _myne_.]

[38] [There is a proverb: "The devil is good when he is pleased."]

[39] [Tenor.]

[40] The priest is made to speak what the author seems to have taken for

the Scotish dialect.

[41] [The writer should have written _requhair_, if anything of the

kind; but his Scotish is deplorably imperfect.]

[42] The usual style in which priests and clergymen were anciently

addressed. Instances are too numerous to require citation.

[43] [St. Rock.]

[44] [This passage was unknown to Brand and his editors.]

[45] Quiet.

[46] [Fagot.]

[47] [i.e., Tyranny, who disguises his identity, and goes under the name

of _Zeal_.]

[48] [This word, to complete the metre, was suggested by Mr Collier.]

[49] Tyranny had made his _exit_, in order to bring back with him

Sensual Suggestion: here he returns, but his re-entrance is not noted.

Sensual Suggestion follows him, but not immediately, and what he first

says was perhaps off the stage, and out of sight of the audience; for

Hypocrisy, five speeches afterwards, informs the Cardinal that Sensual

Suggestion is coming.

[50] i.e., Convicted of heresy. This use of the verb "to convince" was

not unusual at a considerably later date: thus in Beaumont and

Fletcher's "Lover's Progress," act v. sc. 3, edit. Dyce--

"You bring no witness here that may convince you," &c.

It was also often employed as synonymous with "to overcome." See

Shakespeare, ii. 377; vi. 49, &e., edit. Collier.

[51] [Old copy, _former_.]

[52] [Old copy, _demeanour_.]

[53] [Old copy, _myne_.]

[54] [Old copy, _line_.]

[55] [3, in the old copy.]

[56] [This and the next line but one have occurred before at the close

of the speech of Spirit.]

[57] [Old copy, _me_.]

[58] [Assure.]

[59] [Old copy, _his_.]

[60] [Old copy, _that that_.]

[61] [Old copy, _prayers_.]

[62] [Makes all the world believe.]

[63] [Old copy, _anchors_.]

[64] [Old copy, _impire_.]

[65] [For _Whilome a goe_, possibly we ought to read "Whilome again,"

but this would not remove the whole difficulty.]

[66] [In harmony.]

[67] [Mr Collier remarks that this word seems wrong, "but it is

difficult to find a substitute; _essays_ would not answer the purpose."]

[68] [Old copy, _thy_.]

[69] [Mr Collier printed _that_.]

[70] [Old copy, _supporteth_.]

[71] [Old copy, _to_.]

[72] [Old copy, _thou shalt_.]

[73] [Old copy, _as_.]

[74] [Old copy, _handy_.]

[75] Here Armenio comes forward and discovers himself.

[76] [Old copy, _none_.]

[77] Hermione here seems to turn to Fidelia, and to tell her that

possibly he may be as well born as Prince Armenio--"And let me tell you

this, lady," &c.

[78] Her meaning is that the king her father should pardon the offence

of Hermione, whose grief of mind is more severe than the wound he has

just inflicted on Armenio. The two last lines of this speech appear to

belong to Hermione.

[79] [Old copy, _give_.]

[80] [Old copy, _your_.]

[81] [Old copy, _entertaine_.]

[82] [i.e., Award. Old copy, _Holde my rewarde_.]

[83] [Old copy, _to wander_.]

[84] [Mr Collier printed _honor_.]

[85] [Old copy, _some_.]

[86] We must suppose that Fidelia makes her _exit_ here, her father

having gone out at the end of his last speech.

[87] [Old copy, _restor'de_. The alteration is suggested by Mr Collier.]

[88] [Unknown, hidden.]

[89] [Old copy, _one_.]

[90] [Old copy, _turned_.]

[91] [Old copy, _friends_.]

[92] [i.e., Constantly renewed.]

[93] _Companion_ was often used derogatorily by our old writers. See

Shakespeare's "Coriolanus," edit. Collier, vol. vi. p. 230.

[94] _Franion_ was often used for an idle fellow (see Peele's "Old

Wives' Tale," edit. Dyce, vol. i. p. 207), but here it is rather to be

taken as meaning a gentleman who has nothing to do but to amuse himself.

In Heywood's "Edward IV." part I., Hobbs tells the king that he is "a

frank franion, a merry companion, and loves a wench well." See

Shakespeare Society's edit., p. 45. The word occurs several times in

Spenser; and the following lines are from "The Contention between

Liberality and Prodigality," 1602, sig. F.--

"This gallant, I tell you, with other lewd franions

Such as himself unthrifty companions.

In most cruel sort, by the highway-side,

Assaulted a countryman."

[95] [Old copy, _knew_.]

[96] [See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 478.]

[97] [Mr Collier printed _not_.]

[98] [Mr Collier printed _only man alive_.]

[99] [This and the next line of the dialogue are given in the old copy

to Hermione.]

[100] [By.]

[101] [Old copy, pit_.]

[102] _With a wanion_ seems to have been equivalent to "with a witness,"

or sometimes to "with a curse," but the origin of it is uncertain. It

was usually put into the mouths of persons in the lower orders, and it

is used by one of the fishermen in act ii. sc. I of Shakespeare's

"Pericles," edit. Collier, vol. viii. p. 292.

[103] [Taking.]

[104] [This appears to be imitated from some old ballad of the time.

See "Ancient Ballads and Broadsides," 1867, p. 43-6, and the Editor's

note at p. 410.]

[105] [Dapper.]

[106] [Old copy, _turn_.]

[107] Middleton uses _squall_ for a wench in his "Michaelmas Term" and

in "The Honest Whore," edit. Dyce, i. 431, and iii. 55. Here it evidently

means a person of the male sex. [When used of men, a little insignificant

fellow, a whipper-snapper. Presently we see that Lentulo was referring to

the Duke's son.]

[108] [Cuckoldy. A loose form of expression.]

[109] [Bomelio, in his disguise, is made to talk bad French and Italian,

as well as English; this had been done in the ease of Dr Caius who,

however, only spoke broken English. The nationality of Bomelio is

therefore doubtful; but these _minutiae_ did not trouble the dramatists

of those days much.]

[110] [Old copy, _Vedice_--an unlikely blunder.]

[111] Pedlar's French, often mentioned in our old writers, was the cant

language of thieves and vagabonds.

"When every peasant, each plebeian,

Sits in the throne of undeserv'd repute:

When every pedlar's French Is term'd Monsigneur."

--"Histriomastix," 1610, sig. E2.

[112] [i.e., Tarry _for_ me. So in the title of Wapull's play, "The

Tide tarrieth no Man."]

[113] Beat. See Nares, 1859, in _v_. Lambeake. Mr Collier refers us to

the "Supplement to Dodsley's Old Plays," 1833, p. 80, Gabriel Harvey's

"Pierces' Supererogation," 1593, and to "Vox Graculi," 1623.

[114] Come to be hanged.

[115] Old copy, _slave_.

[116] The following scene reminds us of the ancient story of the

"Physician of Brai."

[117] Sure.

[118] Old copy, _flight_. Mr Collier suggested _sight_.

[119] He bites like the pestilence.

[120] Penulo makes his _exit_ (though not marked in the old copy),

and the stage then represents some place near the cave of Bomelio,

who enters with Fidelia.

[121] Old copy, _then_.

[122] Mr Collier printed _come of_.

[123] Old copy, _oft been_.

[124] Old copy, _O_.

[125] Old copy, _my favour_.

[126] Old copy, _for_.

[127] Old copy, _her_.

[128] Above this line Mercury's name is inserted as the speaker: as it

seems, unnecessarily.

[129] Old copy, _Venus_.

[130] Old copy, _Fortune_. It is Mercury who afterwards cures Bomelio.

[131] Old copy, _replaies_.

[132] Old copy, _Hot's_.

[133] Old copy, _my_.

[134] Old copy, _But_, which would seem to convey the exact reverse of

what Phizanties intends--that he did not know Hermione's birth, but,

presuming him to be of obscure birth, did not wish him to marry Fidelia.

[135] Old copy, _But_.

[136] Old copy, _end_.

[137] [Evidently a proverbial expression, of which the import can only

be obscurely gathered from the context. _Nock_ is the same, of course,

as _hock_.]

[138] [There was a second edition, presenting considerable variations,

generally for the better, in 1592. See Hazlitt's "Handbook," 1867,

p. 466.]

[139] [For _stuff_ the edit, of 1592 substitutes _wares_.]

[140] This division is omitted in the edition of 1592, and it seems

unnecessary.

[141] [Old copy, _his_.]

[142] [Sweetheart, mistress.]

[143] [Old copy, _often_.]

[144] [We should now say, "as fast _as_;" but the form in the text is

not uncommon in early literature.]

[145] An intentional corruption, perhaps for _importance_.

[146] Adventures.

[147] Swaggerer, hence the well-known term, _swash-buckler_, for a

roaring blade.

[148] In the snare: What care I who gets caught?

[149] "_What care I to serve the Deuill,"_ &c., edit. 1592.

[150] Edit. 1584 has _boniacion_.

[151] [Old copies, _but_.]

[152] [A simpleton or bumpkin.]

[153] [A term of contempt, of which the meaning is not obvious. It might

seem to indicate a person employed in attending to a house of office.]

[154] A bully.

[155] _i e, pox_.

[156] Old copies, _alone_.

[157] _Vile_.

[158] _Your lives so farre amisse_, edit. 1592.

[159] [Scrupulous.]

[160] [Old copies, _Fraud_.]

[161] [Dissimulation.]

[162] [Edit. 1592, _Iwis_.]

[163] Edit. 1584, _shift it_.

[164] This speech stands as follows in edit. 1592--"Gramercie, Usury;

and doubt not but to live here as pleasantly, And pleasanter too: but

whence came you, Symonie, tell me?"

[165] _Doubt not, fairs ladie_, edit. 1592. In the next line but two,

edit. 1592 has _certainly_ for "I perceaue," and the last two lines of

the speech run as follows--

"And seeing we are so well setted in this countrey,

Rich and poore shall be pincht, whosoever come to me."

[166] When this drama was reprinted in 1592, the interval between 1584

and that date made it necessary to read 33 _years_ for "26 yeares" in

this line. It is a curious note of time.

[167] [This is given in the old copies, _sarua voulra boungrace_, but

surely _Mercatore_ was not intended to blunder in his own language.]

[168] [Scald.]

[169] Omitted in edit. 1584.

[170] _I think so_ is omitted in the second 4to.

[171] [Signed.]

[172] _Studied late_ is omitted in first 4to.

[173] _At all_ is not in second 4to.

[174] [Old copies, _kettels_.]

[175] Possibly a personal allusion to somebody sitting "in the corner"

of the theatre; or it may have been to some well-known character of the

time. Farther on, Simplicity alludes to some boy among the audience.

[176] [Not in _edit. 1581_]

[177] [_I think youle make me serve_, edit. 1592.]

[178] [_And prosperous be they to thee_, edit. 1592.]

[179] [_And dine with me_, edit. 1592.]

[180] [_Thankes_, edit. 1592, omitting _I give you_.]

[181] [Old copies, _am_.]

[182] [Testy. Halliwell spells it _testorn_. Old copies, _testren_.]

[183] [Clarke, in his "Paroemiologia," 1639, has the proverb "He blushes

like a black dog."]

[184] [Old copies, _you_.]

[185] [Edit. 1584 has _very_, and second 4° _well_, the true reading, as

Mr Collier suggests, being that now given in the text.]

[186] [_Priest_, edit. 1592.]

[187] [_Neuter_.]

[188] [Miracle.]

[189] [i.e., in good style.]

[190] [Edit. 1584 has _must_.]

[191] This line is omitted in edit. 1592.

[192] [Will.]

[193] For _parliament_ we are to understand _parament_, i.e., apparel,

referring to the gowns he carries. Beaumont and Fletcher use the word

_paramentos_--

"There were cloaks, gowns, cassocks,

And other _paramentos_,"

--"Love's Pilgrimage," edit. Dyce, xi. 226. _Paramento_ is Spanish, and

means ornament, embellishment, or sometimes any kind of covering.

[194] [In the old copies this direction is inserted wrongly six lines

higher up.]

[195] [Old copies, _hastily_, the compositor's eye having perhaps caught

the word from the stage-direction just above.]

[196] [These three words are not in second 4°.]

[197] [A proverbial expression. See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 210.

So, in the "Spanish Tragedy," vol. v. p. 84: "I am in a sort sorry for

thee; but if I should be hang'd with thee, I cannot weep."]

[198] [Old copies, _thy_.]

[199] Mr Collier's suggestion; both the old copies, _gracious_.

[200] [The first 4° has _can_ for _should_, and _say_ for _'ssay_ or

_essay_. The second 4° reads _lying_ for _living_.]

[201] [Old copy, _drudge_.]

[202] Edit. 1592 has _availeth_. See St Matthew xvi. 26.

[203] [A synonym for a drubbing.] See "All's Well that Ends Well," act

iii. sc. 6, when this passage is quoted in illustration of "John Drum's

entertainment," as it is called by Shakespeare. The expression was

equivalent to _drumming out_.

[204] Second 4° has _array_. Mr Collier thinks _beray_ was intended by

the writer as a blunder on the part of the clown.

[205] First 4°, _seeke_.

[206] [The clown is addressing one of the audience.]

[207] [Edit. 1584, _the_.]

[208] [This word is omitted in first 4°.]

[209] [_I tell ye_, not in edit. 1592.]

[210] _Tell me what good ware for England you do lacke_, edit. 1592.

[211] According to "Extracts from the Stationers' Registers," i. 88,

William Griffith was licensed in 1563-4 to print a ballad entitled "Buy,

Broomes, buye." This maybe the song here sung by Conscience. A song to

the tune is inserted in the tract of "Robin Goodfellow," 1628, 4°, but

no doubt first published many years earlier.

[212] [So both the 4°s, but Mr Collier suggests _soften_.]

[213] _Play, and_ are not in the second 4to.

[214] [The writer seems here to have intended an allusion to Scogin,

whose "Jests" were well-known at that time as a popular book.]

[215] [_I think_, omitted in second 4to.]

[216] A strong kind of cloth so called, and several times mentioned in

Shakespeare. See "Henry IV." Part I., act i. sc. 2; "Comedy of Errors,"

act iv. se. 3, &c.--_Collier_.

[217] _The Venetians came nothing near the knee. Venetians_ were a kind

of hose, or breeches, adopted from the fashions of Venice.

[218] [First 4to reads, _not agree_.]

[219] [A pun, probably, upon _alms_ and _arms_.]

[220] [Old copy, _tables_.]

[221] [So old copies; but the period named before was _three months_.]

[222] [Old copies, _seeme_.]

[223] See Shakespeare's "Love's Labour's Lost," edit. Collier, ii. 306

and 360; Beaumont and Fletcher's "Monsieur Thomas," edit. Dyce, vii.

364. Thomas Nash, in his "Strange Newes," 1592, sig. D 3, uses _no

point_ just in the same way, as a sort of emphatic double negative.--"No

point; _ergo_, it were wisely done of goodman Boores son, if he should

go to the warres," &c.

[224] [The worst wonder is.]

[225] [Compassionate.]

[226] [Not in first 4to.]

[227] The learned Constable refers, of course, to Love, who has already

been on the stage in a vizard at the back of her head: see earlier;

_Enter_ LUCRE, _and_ LOVE _with a vizard, behind_.

[228] [Old copies, _sacred_. This was Mr Collier's suggestion.]

[229] [Old copies, _ye_.]

[230] [Alluding to the "Three Ladies of London," 1584.]

[231] [Old copy, _Pompe hath_.]

[232] [Old copy, _place_.]

[233] [The bells attached to the falcon, the _impress of Pleasure_.]

[234] Referring to the chains of gold formerly worn by persons of rank

and property.

[235] Alluding to the manner in which ballad-sellers of that day used to

expose their goods, by hanging them up in the same way that the three

lords had hung up their shields.

[236] [Foolish, maudlin.]

[237] [Except.]

[238] [See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 265-6.]

[239] The best, and indeed what may be considered the only, account of

Tarlton the actor precedes the edition of his Jests, reprinted for the

Shakespeare Society in 1844.

[240] [Videlicet.]

[241] [Ignorant.]

[242] [Alluding to some wood engraving of Tarlton, which Simplicity had

in his basket. To the reprint of "Tarlton's Jests," by the Shakespeare

Society, are prefixed two wood-cuts, made from a drawing of the time of

Elizabeth, and no doubt soon after the death of Tarlton of the plague

in 1588.]

[243] [Preferment.]

[244] An ejaculation, apparently equivalent to _God_.

[245] The first purchase made in the day--the ballad which Wit had

bought of Simplicity.

[246] Espial. The word occurs again further on.

[247] [Probably a reference is intended to the proverbial expression

about Mahomet and the mountain.]

[248] An ambry or aumbry is a pantry or closet. The next line explains

the word.

[249] [Old copy, _lent_.]

[250] [Old copy, _might_.]

[251] [Old copy, _might_.]

[252] Old copy, _tormented_.

[253] [Old copy, _unmask'd_.]

[254] Old copy, _our_.

[255] i.e., A pack of cards; the expression was very common; _deck_,

five lines lower, was often used for _pack_.

[256] [Old copy, _from_.]

[257] The wimple is generally explained as a covering for the neck, or

for the neck and shoulders; but Shakespeare ("Love's Labour's Lost," act

iii. se. 1) seems to use it as a covering for the eyes also, when he

calls Cupid "This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy." Steevens in

his note states that "the wimple was a hood or veil, which fell over the

face." The passage in our text, and what follows it, supports this

description of the wimple.

[258] This is the only part of female dress mentioned in this speech

that seems to require a note. The "vardingale (or farthingale) of vain

boast" is peculiarly appropriate, since a farthingale consisted of a

very wide, expanded skirt, puffed out to show off the attire, and

distort the figure of a lady. In modern times it bears a different name.

[259] [Good-bye.]

[260] [Old copy, _house_; but Simplicity is enumerating the new articles

of attire he proposed to purchase.]

[261] [He addresses the audience.]

[262] [Old copy, _auditorie_.]

[263] [Old copy, _proofe it fits of_.]

[264] [Old copy, _a_.]

[265] [Old copy, in the preceding line, _ever_.] This and the following

lines afford a note of time, and show that the drama was written and

acted during the preparation of the great Armada, and perhaps before its

total defeat.

[266] [The old copy reads, _peerlesse, of the rarest price_, which

destroys the metre. The writer probably wrote _peerless_, and then,

finding it inconvenient as regarded the measure, substituted the other

phrase, without striking out the first word, so that the printer

inserted both.]

[267] [Old copy, _when_.]

[268] See "Henry IV.," Part I., act ii. sc 1, respecting "burning

cressets." In a note, Steevens quotes the above line in explanation of

Shakespeare.

[269] [The concluding portion of the speech is supposed to be overheard

by Fraud and the others.]

[270] The ordinary cry of the apprentices of London, when they wished to

raise their fellows to take their part in any commotion. It is mentioned

in many old writers.

[271] A trouchman was an interpreter [literally, a truceman]: "For he

that is the Trouchman of a Straungers tongue may well declare his

meaning, but yet shall marre the grace of his Tale" (G. Whetstone's

"Heptameron," 1582).

[272] [Old copy, _trunke_.]

[273] [This is to be pronounced as a trisyllable.]

[274] [In the old copy this line is printed thus--

"Quid tibi cum domini mox servient miseri nobis; discede."]

[275] [In the old copy this line is divided between Policy and Pomp

improperly.]

[276] [Might my advice be heard.]

[277] [Old copy, _wished_.]

[278] [Old copy, _we_.]

[279] [Old copy, _Ne. Fra., Nemo_ being retained by error.]

[280] [The entrance of Diligence is marked here in old copy; but he was

already on the stage.]

[281] [Simplicity seems to intend the public-wealth.]

[282] [An intentional (?) error for _buckram_.]

[283] They "slipped aside" on p. 483, and now re-enter. The preceding

stage direction ought to be _Exeunt_, because the lords go out as well

as Simplicity.

[284] [Committal, prior to trial.]

[285] That is, under the protection of their husbands--a legal phrase,

not yet strictly applicable, as the ladies are not to be married to the

lords until the next day--

"And even to-morrow is the marriage-day."

[286] [Old copy, _a_.]

[287] [Old copy, _noble_; the emendation was suggested by Mr Collier.]

[288] Old copy, _vetuous_.

[289] There must be some corruption here, or the author was not very

anxious to be correct in his classical allusions.

[290] Lies to the king. The word _lese_ is more generally used as a

substantive.

[291] [_Jug_ is a leman or mistress. Mr Collier remarks that this

passage clears up] the hitherto unexplained exclamation in "King Lear,"

act. i. sc. 4: "Whoop, Jug, I love thee."--The Tinker's _mail_,

mentioned in the preceding line, is his wallet. _Trug_, in the following

line, is equivalent to _trull_, and, possibly, is only another form of

the same word: Middleton (edit. Dyce ii. 222) has the expression, "a

pretty, middlesized _trug_." See also the note, where R. Greene's tract

is quoted.

[292] In one copy the text is as we give it, and in another the word is

printed _Ideal_, the alteration having been made in the press. Possibly

the author had some confused notion about _Ida_; but, if he cared about

being correct, the Queen of Love did not "dally with Endymion."

[293] [Thalia.]

[294] [Old copy, _Idea_; a trissyllable is required for the rhythm.]

[295] [Old copy, _kept_.]

[296] [Bond.]

[297] [Old copy, _Abstrauogant_.]

[298] [Old copy, _peely_.]

[299] [Cakes. Old copy, _cats_.]

[300] [A Knight of the Post was a person hired to swear anything--a

character often mentioned in old writers.]

[301] Some persons, not merely without reason, but directly against it,

treat _vild_ and _vile_, and consequently vildly and _vilely_, as

distinct words. _Vild_ and _vildly_ are blunders in old spelling, only

to be retained when, as now, we give the words of an author in the very

orthography of that date. We profess here to follow the antiquated

spelling exactly, that it may be seen how the productions in our volume

came originally from the press: but when spelling is modernised, as it

is in the ordinary republications of our ancient dramatists, &c., it is

just as absurd to print "vile" _vild_, as to print "friend" frend or

"enemy" _ennimy_.--_Mr Collier's note in the edition of_ 1851.

[302] Shakespeare has the word "exigent" for _extremity_, and such seems

to be its meaning here, and not the legal sense; the Knight says that

the good name of his predecessors for housekeeping shall never be

brought into extremity by him.

[303] [Wary, aware.]

[304] [Old copy, _Squire_.]

[305] [Old copy, _for fourtie_.]

[306] An early instance of the use of an expression, of frequent

occurrence afterwards and down to our own day, equivalent to going

without dinner. See Steevens's note to "Richard III." act iv. sc. 4,

where many passages are quoted on the point.

[307] [Old copy, _ope_.]

[308] The copy of this play in the British Museum has here "_Scinthin_

maide;" but another, belonging to the Rev. A. Dyce, "_Scythia_ maide," a

reading we have followed, and, no doubt, introduced by the old printer

as the sheets went through the press.

[309] "Counterfeit" was a very common term for the resemblance of a

person: in "Hamlet," act iii. sc. 4, we have "counterfeit presentment;"

and in the "Merchant of Venice," act iii. sc. 2, "Fair Portia's

counterfeit." In Beaumont and Fletcher's "Wife for a Month," act iv. sc.

5, we meet-with "counterfeits in Arras" for portraits, or figures

in tapestry.

[310] [i.e., from or after.]

[311] [i.e., The shoemaker. There is a jest turning upon this in one of

the early collections of _facetiae_.]

[312] [Vulcan.]

[313] By "carminger" the cobbler means harbinger, an officer; who

preceded the monarch during progresses, to give notice and make

preparation.

[314] We print it precisely as in the old copy, but we may presume that

here a couplet was intended, as the cobbler's speech begins in rhyme:--

"And we are come to you alone

To deliver our petition,"

[315] Roquefort in his "Glossary," i. 196, states that bysse is a sort

_d'étoffe de soie_, and the Rev. A. Dyce, "Middleton's Works," v. 558,

says that it means "fine linen," while others contend that it is "a

delicate blue colour," but sometimes "black or dark grey." The truth may

be that it was fine silk of a blue colour, and we now and then meet it

coupled with purple--"purple and bis."

[316] [Old copy, _Indian_.]

[317] [Old copy, _calamon_.]

[318] [i.e., he withdraws to the back of the stage, to allow the king

to confer first with Osrick, and then comes forward again.]

[319] [Old copy, _Asmoroth_.]

[320] [Old copy, _Asmoroth_.]

[321] [Old copy, _bid_.] _Bid_ may be taken in the sense of invite, a

meaning it often bears in old writers; but we are most likely to

understand it _bide_ or _abide_, the final _e_ having been omitted, or

dropped out in the press. In the next line we have _quit_ again used

for _acquit_.

[322] [We must suppose here that Honesty sends out some of the

attendants to bring in the Coneycatcher and Farmer, who soon make their

re-appearance on the stage.]