Chapter VI: Part 6

So would I, Lob and Hob, with all my heart.
Now with both hands will ye see me play my part? [_Aside_.
Ah, ye whoreson traitorly knaves;
Hob and Lob, out upon you, slaves!

LOB.

And thou call’st me knave, thou art another:
My name is Lob, and Hob my next neighbour.

AMBIDEXTER.

Hob and Lob, ah ye country patches!
Ah ye fools! ye have made wrong matches;
Ye have spoken treason against the king’s grace:
For it I will accuse ye before his face;
Then for the same ye shall be martyr’d:
At the least ye shall be hang’d, drawn, and quartered.

HOB.

O gentleman, ye shall have two pear-pies, and tell not of me.

LOB.

By God, a vat goose chill give thee:
I think no hurt, by my vather’s soul I swear.

HOB.

Chave lived well all my life-time my neighbours among,
And now chould be loth to come to zuch wrong:
To be hanged and quartered the grief would be great.

LOB.

A foul evil on thee, Hob! who bid thee on it treat?
Vor it was thou that first did him name.

HOB.

Thou liest like a varlet, and thou zay’st the same;
It was zuch a voolish Lob as thou.

LOB.

Speak many words, and by Cod’s nails I vow,
Upon thy pate my staff I will lay.

AMBIDEXTER.

By the mass, I will cause them to make a fray. [_Aside._
Yea, Lob, thou sayest true, all came through him.

LOB.

Bum vay, thou Hob, a little would make me ye trim;
Give thee a zwap on thy nose, till thy heart ache.

HOB.

If thou darest, do it; else, man, cry creke:
I trust, before thou hurt me,
With my staff chill make a Lob of thee.
[_Here let them fight with their staves, not
come near another by three or four yards;
the_ VICE _set them on as hard as he can:
one of their wives come out, and all to
beat the_ VICE, _he run away_.

_Enter_ MARIAN-MAY-BE-GOOD, HOB’S _wife, running
in with a broom, and part them._

MARIAN.

O’ the body of me, husband Hob, what, mean you to fight?
For the passion of God, no more blows smite.
Neighbours and friends so long, and now to fall out!
What, in your age to seem so stout?
If I had not parted ye, one had kill’d another.

LOB.

I had not cared, I swear by God’s mother.

MARIAN.

Shake hands again at the request of me;
As ye have been friends, so friends still be.

HOB.

Bum troth, cham content, and zay’st word, neighbour Lob?

LOB.

I am content; agreed, neighbour Hob.
[_Shake hands, and laugh heartily one at another_.

MARIAN.

So, get you to market, no longer stay;
And with yonder knave let me make a fray.

HOB.

Content, wife Marian, chill do as thou dost say
But buss me, ich pray thee, at going away.
[_Exeunt_ HOB, LOB.

MARIAN.

Thou whoreson knave and prickear’d boy,
Why didst thou let them fight?
If one had kill’d another here,
Couldst thou their deaths requite?
It bears a sign by this thy deed,
A cowardly knave thou art;
Else wouldst thou draw that weapon thine,
Like a man them to part.

AMBIDEXTER.

What, Marian-may-be-good, are you come prattling?
Ye may hap get a box on the ear with your talking:
If they had kill’d one another, I had not cared a pease.
[_Here let her swinge him with[245] her broom, she
gets him down, and he her down, thus one on the
top of another make pastime._

MARIAN.

Ah villain, myself on thee I must ease:
Give me a box on the ear? that will I try;
Who shall be master, thou shalt see by and by.

AMBIDEXTER.

O, no more, no more, I beseech you heartily;
Even now I yield, and give you the mastery.
[_Run his way out, whilst she is down._

MARIAN.

Ah knave, dost thou throw me down, and run thy way?
If he were here again, O, how I would him pay!
I will after him; and if I can him meet,
With these my nails his face I will greet.

_Enter_ VENUS _leading out her son_ CUPID _blind_:
_he must have a bow and two shafts, one headed
with gold and the other headed with lead_.

VENUS.

Come forth, my son, unto my words
Attentive ears resign:
What I pretend, see you frequent,
To force this game of mine.
The king a kinswoman hath,
Adorn’d with beauty store;
And I wish that Diana’s gifts,
They twain shall keep no more;
But use my silver sug’red game
Their joys for to augment.
When I do speak to wound his heart,
Cupid my son, consent:
And shoot at him the shaft of love,
That bears the head of gold,
To wound his heart in lover’s wise,
His grief for to unfold.
Though kin she be unto his grace,
That nature me expel,
Against the course thereof he may,
In my game please me well;
Wherefore, my son, do not forget,
Forthwith pursue the deed.

CUPID.

Mother, I mean for to obey,
As you have whole decreed:
But you must tell me, mother dear,
When I shall arrow draw;
Else your request to be attain’d
Will not be worth a straw:
I am blind and cannot see;
But still do shoot by guess;
The poets well in places store
Of my might do express.

VENUS.

Cupid my son, when time shall serve,
That thou shalt do this deed,
Then warning I to thee will give;
But see thou shoot with speed.

_Enter_ LORD, LADY, WAITING MAID.

LORD.

Lady dear, to king akin,
Forthwith let us proceed
To trace abroad the beauty fields,
As erst we had decreed:
The blowing buds whose savoury scents
Our sense will much delight.
The sweet smell of musk-white rose,
To please the appetite,
The chirping birds, whose pleasant tunes
Therein shall hear record,
That our great joy we shall it find,
In field to walk abroad.
On lute and cittern there to play
A heavenly harmony,
Our ears shall hear, heart to content,
Our sports to beautify.[246]

LADY.

Unto your words, most comely lord,
Myself submit do I;
To trace with you in field so green,
I mean not to deny.
[_Here trace up and down playing._

MAID.

And I your waiting maid at hand
With diligence will be
For to fulfil with heart and hand,
When you shall command me.

_Enter_ KING, LORD, _and_ KNIGHT.

KING.

Come on, my Lord and Knight, abroad
Our mirth let us employ:
Since he is dead, this heart of mine
In corpse I feel it joy.
Should brother mine have reigned king,
When I had yielded breath?
A thousand brothers I rather had,
To put them all to death.
But, O, behold where do I see
A lord and lady fair;
For beauty she most worthy is
To sit in prince’s chair.

VENUS.

Shoot forth, my son, now is the time
That thou must wound his heart.

CUPID.

Content you, mother, I will do my part.
[_Shoot there, and go out_ VENUS _and_ CUPID.

KING.

Of truth, my lord, in eye of mine
All ladies she doth excel:
Can none report, what dame she is,
And to my grace it tell?

LORD.

Redoubted prince, pleaseth your grace,
To you she is akin;
Cousin-german nigh of birth,
By mother’s side come in

KNIGHT.

And that her waiting maiden is,
Attending her upon:
He is a lord of prince’s court,
And will be there anon.
They sport themselves in pleasant field,
To former used use.

KING.

My Lord and Knight, of truth I speak,
My heart it cannot choose;
But with my lady I must speak,
And so express my mind.
My lord and ladies, walking there,
If you will favour find,
Present yourselves unto my grace,
And by my side come stand.

FIRST LORD.

We will fulfil, most mighty king,
As your grace doth command.

KING.

Lady dear, intelligence
My grace hath got of late;
You issued out of mother’s stock,
And kin unto my state:
According to rule of birth you are
Cousin-german mine;
Yet do I wish that farther off
This kindred I could find:
For Cupid he, that eyeless boy,
My heart hath so inflamed
With beauty you me to content
The like cannot be named;
For since I ent’red in this place,
And on you fix’d mine eyes,
Most burning fits about my heart
In ample wise did rise.
The heat of them such force doth yield,
My corpse they scorch, alas!
And burns the same with wasting heat,
As Titan doth the grass.
And sith this heat is kindled so,
And fresh in heart of me,
There is no way but of the same
The quencher you must be:
My meaning is, that beauty yours
My heart with love doth wound;
To give me love, mind to content
My heart hath you out-found:
And you are she must be my wife,
Else shall I end my days.
Consent to this, and be my queen,
To wear the crown with praise.

LADY.

If it please your grace (O mighty king)
You shall not this request;
It is a thing that nature’s course
Doth utterly detest:
And high it would the God displease,
Of all that is the worst;
To grant your grace to marry so,
It is not that I durst:
Yet humble thanks I render now
Unto you, mighty king,
That you vouchsafe to great estate,
So gladly would me bring:
Were it not it were offence,
I would it not deny;
But such great honour to achieve
My heart I would apply.
Therefore (O king) with humble heart
In this I pardon crave:
Mine answer is in this request,
Your mind ye may not have.

KING.

May I not? nay, then I will,
By all the gods I vow:
And I will marry thee as wife;
This is mine answer now:
Who dare say nay what I pretend:
Who dare the same withstand,
Shall lose his head, and have report
As traitor through my land:
There is no nay, I will you have,
And you my queen shall be.

LADY.

Then, mighty king, I crave your grace,
To hear the words of me:
Your counsel take of lordings’ wit,
The laws aright peruse;
If I with safe may grant this deed,
I will it not refuse.

KING.

No, no; what I have said to you,
I mean to have it so:
For counsel theirs I mean not, I,
In this respect to go.
But to my palace let us go,
The marriage to prepare;
For to avoid my will in this,
I can it not forbear.

LADY.

O God, forgive me, if I do amiss;
The king by compulsion enforceth me this.

MAID.

Unto the gods for your estate
I will not cease to pray;
That you may be a happy queen,
And see most joyful day.

KING.

Come on, my lords, with gladsome hearts
Let us rejoice with glee:
Your music show to joy this deed
At the request of me.

BOTH.

For to obey your grace’s words
Our honours do agree.
[_Exeunt._

_Enter_ AMBIDEXTER.

AMBIDEXTER.

O’ the passion of me! marry, as ye say, yonder is a royal court;
There is triumphing, and sport upon sport:
Such loyal lords with such lordly exercise,
Frequenting such pastime as they can devise;
Running at tilt, justing, with running at the ring,
Masquing and mumming, with each kind of thing,
Such dancing, such singing, with musical harmony:
Believe me, I was loth to absent their company.
But will you believe? Jesu! what haste they made, till they were
married?
Not for a million of pounds one day longer they would have tarried.
O, there was a banquet royal and superexcellent;
Thousands and thousands at that banquet was spent.
I muse of nothing but how they can be married so soon;
I care not, if I be married before to-morrow at noon,
If marriage be a thing that so may be had:
How say you, maid? to marry me will ye be glad?
Out of doubt, I believe, it is some excellent treasure,
Else to the same belongs abundant pleasure.
Yet with mine ears I have heard some say,--
_That ever I was married, now cursed be the day!_
Those be they, that with curs’d wives be matched,
That husband for hawks’ meat of them is up snatched,
Head broke with a bedstaff, face be all-to scratched:
Knave, slave and villain! a coil’d coat now and then;
When the wife hath given in, she will say, alas, good-man!
Such were better unmarried, my masters, I trow,
Than all their life after to be matched with a shrow.

_Enter_ PREPARATION.

PREPARATION.

With speed I am sent all things to prepare,
My message to do as the king did declare.
His grace doth mean a banquet to make,
Meaning in this place repast for to take.
Well, the cloth shall be laid, and all things in readiness,
To court to return, when done, is my business.

AMBIDEXTER.

A proper man, and also a fit,
For the king’s estate to prepare a banquet.

PREPARATION.

What, Ambidexter? thou art not unknown;
A mischief on all good faces, so that I curse not mine own:
Now, in the knave’s name, shake hands with me.

AMBIDEXTER.

Well said, goodman pouchmouth, your reverence I see,
I will teach ye, if your manners no better be:
Ah, ye slave! the king doth me a gentleman allow:
Therefore I look that to me ye shall bow.
[_Fight._

PREPARATION.

Good Master Ambidexter, pardon my behaviour;
For this your deed ye are a knave for your labour.

AMBIDEXTER.

Why, ye stale counterly villain, nothing but knave?
[_Fight._

PREPARATION.

I am sorry, your mastership offended I have:
Shake hands, that between us agreement may be;
I was over-shot with myself, I do see.
Let me have your help, this furniture to provide;
The king from this place will not long abide.

AMBIDEXTER.

[_Set the fruit on the board_.
Content; it is the thing that I would wish:
I myself will go fetch on dish.
[_Let the_ VICE _set a dish of nuts, and let them
fall in the bringing of them in_.

PREPARATION.

Cleanly! Master Ambidexter; for fair on the ground they lie.

AMBIDEXTER.

I will have them up again by and by.

PREPARATION.

To see all in readiness I will put you in trust:
There is no nay, to the court needs I must.
[_Exit_ PREPARATION.

AMBIDEXTER.

Have you no doubt, but all shall be well?
Marry, sir, as you say, this gear doth excel:
All things is in a readiness, when they come hither,
The king’s grace and the queen both together.
I beseech ye, my masters, tell me, is it not best
That I be so bold as to bid a guest?
He is as honest a man as ever spurr’d cow:
My cousin Cutpurse, I mean, I beseech ye, judge you.
Believe me, cousin, if to be the king’s guest ye could be taken,
I trust that offer would not be forsaken.
But, cousin, because to that office ye are not like to come,
Frequent your exercises, a horn on your thumb,
A quick eye, a sharp knife, at hand a receiver:
But then take heed, cousin, ye be a cleanly conveyor;
Content yourself, cousin, for this banquet you are unfit,
When such as I at the same am not worthy to sit.

_Enter_ KING, QUEEN, LORDS, _&c._

KING.

My queen and lords, to take repast
Let us attempt the same;
Here is the place, delay no time,
But to our purpose frame.

QUEEN.

With willing hearts your whole behest
We mind for to obey.

ALL.

And we, the rest of prince’s train,
Will do as you do say.
[_Sit at the banquet._

KING.

Methink, mine ears doth wish the sound
Of music’s harmony;
Here for to play before my grace,
In place I would them spy.
[_Play at the banquet._

AMBIDEXTER.

They be at hand, sir, with stick and fiddle;
They can play a new dance called _Hey-diddle-diddle_.

KING.

My queen, perpend: what I pronounce
I will not violate;
But one thing which my heart makes glad,
I mind to explicate:
You know, in court uptrained is
A lion very young,
Of one litter two whelps beside,
As yet not very strong;
I did request one whelp to see
And this young lion fight:
But lion did the whelp convince
By strength of force and might
His brother whelp, perceiving that
The lion was too good,
And he by force was like to see
The other whelp his blood,
With force to lion he did run
His brother for to help:
A wonder great it was to see
That friendship in a whelp.
So then the whelps between them both
The lion did convince;
Which thing to see before mine eyes
Did glad the heart of prince.
[_At this tale told let the_ QUEEN _weep_.

QUEEN.

These words to hear makes stilling tears
Issue from crystal eyes.

KING.

What dost thou mean, my spouse, to weep
For loss of any prize?

QUEEN.

No, no (O king); but as you see
Friendship in brothers whelp,
When one was like to have repulse,
The other yielded help.
And was this favour show’d in dogs,
To shame of royal king?
Alack, I wish these ears of mine
Had not once heard this thing.
Even so should you (O mighty king)
To brother been a stay;
And not, without offence to you,
In such wise him to slay.
In all assays it was your part
His cause to have defended;
And whosoever had him misused,
To have them reprehended:
But faithful love was more in dog,
Than it was in your grace.

KING.

O cursed caitiff, vicious and vile,
I hate thee in this place.
This banquet is at an end,
Take all these things away:
Before my face thou shalt repent
The words that thou dost say.
O wretch most vile, didst thou the cause
Of brother mine so tender?
The loss of him should grieve thy heart,
He being none offender.
It did me good his death to have,
So will it to have thine;
What friendship he had at my hands,
The same even thou shalt find.
I give consent and make a vow,
That thou shalt die the death;
By Cruel’s sword, and Murder fell,
Even thou shalt lose the breath.
Ambidexter, see with speed
To Cruelty ye go;
Cause him hither to approach,
Murder with him also.

AMBIDEXTER.

I ready am for to fulfil,
If that it be your grace’s will.

KING.

Then nought oblight[247] my message given,
Absent thyself away.

AMBIDEXTER.

[_Aside_] Then in this place I will no longer stay.
If that I durst, I would mourn your case;
But, alas, I dare not for fear of his grace.
[_Exit_ AMBIDEXTER.

KING.

Thou cursed jill, by all the gods
I take an oath and swear,
That flesh of thine these hands of mine
In pieces small could tear;
But thou shalt die by dent of sword,
There is no friend ne fee
Shall find remorse at prince’s hand
To save the life of thee.

QUEEN.

O mighty king and husband mine,
Vouchsafe to hear me speak,
And licence give to spouse of thine
Her patient mind to break:
For tender love unto your grace
My words I did so frame,
For pure love doth heart of king
Me violate and blame.
And to your grace is this offence,
That I should purchase death?
Then cursed time that I was queen,
To shorten this my breath!
Your grace doth know by marriage true
I am your wife and spouse,
And one to save another’s health
(At troth-plight) made our vows.
Therefore, O king, let loving queen
At thy hand find remorse,
Let pity be a mean to quench
That cruel raging force:
And pardon plight from prince’s mouth,
Yield grace unto your queen,
That amity with faithful zeal
May ever be us between.

KING.

Ah caitiff vile, to pity thee
My heart it is not bent?
Ne yet to pardon your offence
It is not mine intent.

FIRST LORD.

Our mighty prince, with humble suit
Of you this grace I crave,
That this request it may take place,
Your favour for to have.
Let mercy yet abundantly
The life of queen preserve,
Sith she is most obedient wife
Your grace’s will doth serve.
As yet your grace but while with her
Hath had cohabitation;
And sure this is no desert why,
To yield her indignation.
Therefore (O king) her life prolong,
To joy her days in bliss.

SECOND LORD.

Your grace shall win immortal fame
In granting unto this;
She is a queen whose goodly hue
Excels the royal rose:
For beauty bright Dame Nature she
A large gift did dispose;
For comeliness who may compare?
Of all she bears the bell;
This should give cause to move your grace
To love her very well;
Her silver breasts in those your arms
To sing the songs of love;
Fine qualities most excellent
To be in her you prove;
A precious pearl of price to prince,
A jewel passing all:
Therefore (O king) to beg remorse
On both my knees I fall;
To grant her grace to have her life
With heart I do desire.

KING.

You villains twain, with raging force
Ye set my heart on fire:
If I consent that she shall die,
How dare ye crave her life?
You two to ask this at my hand
Doth much enlarge my strife;
Were it not for shame, you two should die,
That for her life do sue:
But favour mine from you is gone,
My lords, I tell you true.
I sent for Cruelty of late;
If he would come away,
I would commit her to his hands
His cruel part to play.
Even now I see where he doth come,
It doth my heart delight.

_Enter_ CRUELTY _and_ MURDER.

CRUELTY.

Come, Murder, come; let us go forth with might;
Once again the king’s commandment we must fulfil.

MURDER.

I am contented to do it with a good will.

KING.

Murder and Cruelty, for both of you I sent,
With all festination your offices to frequent:
Lay hold on the queen, take her to your power,
And make her away within this hour;
Spare for no fear, I do you full permit:
So I from this place do mean for to flit.

BOTH.

With courageous hearts, O king, we will obey.

KING.

Then come, my lords, let us depart away.

BOTH THE LORDS.

With heavy hearts we will do all your grace doth say.
[_Exeunt_ KING _and_ LORDS.

CRUELTY.

Come, lady and queen, now are you in our handling:
In faith, with you we will use no dandling:

MURDER.

With all expedition, I Murder will take place,
Though thou be a queen, ye be under my grace.

QUEEN.

With patience I will you both obey.

CRUELTY.

No more words, but go with us away.

QUEEN.

Yet, before I die, some psalm to God let me sing.

BOTH.

We be content to permit you that thing.

QUEEN.

Farewell, you ladies of the court,
With all your masking hue:
I do forsake these broder’d guards,
And all the fashions new,
The court and all the courtly train,
Wherein I had delight;
I banished am from happy sport,
And all by spiteful spite.
Yet with a joyful heart to God
A psalm I mean to sing,
Forgiving all, and the king,
Of each kind of thing.
[_Sing and Exeunt._

_Enter_ AMBIDEXTER _weeping_.

AMBIDEXTER.

Ah, ah, ah, ah! I cannot choose but weep for the queen:
Nothing but mourning now at the court there is seen.
O, O, my heart, my heart; O, my bum will break:
Very grief so torments me that scarce I can speak.
Who could but weep for the loss of such a lady?
That cannot I do, I swear by mine honesty.
But, Lord! so the ladies mourn crying, alack!
Nothing is worn now but only black;
I believe all [the] cloth in Watling Street to make gowns would not
serve:[248]
If I make a lie, the devil let me starve!
All ladies mourn both young and old;
There is not one that weareth a point’s worth of gold.
There is a sort for fear of the king do pray,
That would have him dead, by the mass I dare say.
What a king was he that hath used such tyranny?
He was akin to Bishop Bonner,[249] I think verily;
For both their delights was to shed blood,
But never intended to do any good.
Cambyses put a judge to death; that was a good deed;
But to kill the young child was worse to proceed;
To murder his brother, and then his own wife!
So help me God and halidom, it is pity of his life,
Hear ye? I will lay twenty thousand pound,
That the king himself doth die by some wound;
He hath shed so much blood, that his will be shed:
If it come so to pass, in faith, then he is sped.

_Enter the_ KING _without a gown, a sword thrust up
into his side bleeding_.

KING.

Out alas? what shall I do? my life is finished;
Wounded I am by sudden chance, my blood is minished:
Gog’s heart, what means might I make my life to preserve?
Is there nought to be my help? nor is there nought to serve?
Out upon the court, and lords that there remain!
To help my grief in this my case will none of them take pain?
Who but I in such a wise his death’s wound could have got?
As I on horse-back up did leap, my sword from scabbard shot,
And run me thus into the side, as you right well may see.
A marvell’s chance unfortunate, that in this wise should be.
I feel myself a-dying now, of life bereft am I:
And death hath caught me with his dart, for want of blood I spy.
Thus gasping here on ground I lie, for nothing I do care;
A just reward for my misdeeds my death doth plain declare.
[_Here let him quake and stir._

AMBIDEXTER.

How now, noble king? pluck up your heart;
What, will you die, and from us depart?
Speak to me, and you be alive:
He cannot speak; but behold now with death he doth strive!
Alas, good king: alas, he is gone!
The devil take me, if for him I make any moan.
I did prognosticate of his end, by the mass;
Like as I did say, so is it come to pass.
I will be gone; if I should be found here,
That I should kill him it would appear:
For fear with his death they do me charge,
Farewell, my masters, I will go take barge:
I mean to be packing, now is the tide:
Farewell, my masters, I will no longer abide.
[_Exit_ AMBIDEXTER.

_Enter three_ LORDS.

FIRST LORD.

Behold, my lords, it is even so,
As he to us did tell;
His grace is dead upon the ground,
By dent of sword most fell.

SECOND LORD.

As he in saddle would have leapt,
His sword from sheath did go,
Goring him up into the side;
His life was ended so.

THIRD LORD.

His blood so fast did issue out,
That nought could him prolong:
Yet before he yielded up the ghost,
His heart was very strong.

FIRST LORD.

A just reward for his misdeeds
The God above hath wrought;
For certainly the life he led
Was to be counted nought.

SECOND LORD.

Yet a princely burial he shall have,
According his estate;
And more of him here at his time
We have not to dilate.

THIRD LORD.

My lords, let us take him up,
To carry him away.

BOTH.

Content we are, with one accord,
To do as you do say.
[_Exeunt all._

* * * * *

EPILOGUS.

Right gentle audience, here have you perused
The tragical history of this wicked king;
According to our duty, we have not refused,
But to our best intent express’d everything:
We trust none is offended for this our doing.
Our author craves likewise, if he have squared amiss,
By gentle admonition to know where the fault is.

His good will shall not be neglected to amend the same;
Praying all to bear therefore with his simple deed,
Until the time serve a better he may frame:
Thus yielding you thanks, to end we decreed
That you so gently have suffered us to proceed,
In such patient wise as to hear and see:
We can but thank you therefore, we can do no more, we.

As duty binds us, for our noble queen let us pray,
And for her honourable council, the truth that they may use,
To practise justice, and defend her grace each day;
To maintain God’s word they may not refuse,
To correct all those, that would her grace and grace’s laws abuse;
Beseeching God over us she may reign long,
To be guided by truth, and defended from wrong.

[228] [Like “King Darius’ doleful strain,” in allusion
to the old interlude on that subject.]

[229] [The play was licenced to John Allde in 1569-70.
See Collier’s “Extracts,” i. 205. As that printer
continued in business till 1584, and the earliest dated
piece with the younger Allde’s name bears the same
date, “Cambyses” may have been republished about 1585;
but it does not seem to have been licenced.]

[230] Shakespeare’s Clowns are genuine successors of
the old Vice; and, as an editor of that poet has well
observed, Punch still exhibits the entire character.

[231] [One of them is printed by Collier.]

[232] [Might not this incident have suggested to
Shakespeare the leading one in “Measure for Measure”?]

[233] [This incident was no doubt suggested by a
well-known passage in the earlier play of “Thersites.”]

[234] Here is evidently a line omitted, which it is
impossible to supply by conjecture.

[235] [Old copy, _the_.]

[236] [Old copy, _of_.]

[237] [Old copy, _the_.]

[238] [Greediness or greed.]

[239] [Old copy, _want_.]

[240] [Old copy, _taste it still_.]

[241] [Intention.]

[242] [By our lady.]

[243] [By my faith; and a little further on we have
_bum troth_--by my troth.]

[244] [Old copy, _do_.]

[245] [Old copy, _in_.]

[246] [Old copy, _beautie_.]

[247] [Forget. A very rare word.]

[248] [This reference to Watling Street as an early
emporium for cloth is interesting, and does not seem to
have been noticed.]

[249] [Here Preston makes Ambidexter refer to Bonner as
dead, an event which happened in 1569, and as this play
was licenced in 1569-70, it must have been written
immediately prior to its entry at Stationers’ Hall.]

THE MISFORTUNES OF ARTHUR.

_EDITION._

_Certaine Devises and shewes presented to her Majestie by the
Gentlemen of Grayes-Inne, at her Highnesse Court in Greenewich,
the twenty eighth day of Februarie in the thirtieth yeare of her
Majesties most happy Raigne. At London. Printed by Robert
Robinson. 1587. 8o.
Black-letter._

MR COLLIER’S PREFACE.

It appears that eight persons, members of the Society of Gray’s Inn, were engaged in the production of “The Misfortunes of Arthur,” for the entertainment of Queen Elizabeth, at Greenwich, on the 8th February 1587-8, viz., Thomas Hughes, the author of the whole body of the tragedy; William Fulbecke, who wrote two speeches substituted on the representation and appended to the old printed copy; Nicholas Trotte, who furnished the introduction; Francis Flower, who penned choruses for the first and second acts; Christopher Yelverton, Francis Bacon, and John Lancaster, who devised the dumb-shows, then usually accompanying such performances; and a person of the name of Penruddock, who, assisted by Flower and Lancaster, “directed the proceedings at court.”

Regarding Hughes and Trotte no information has survived. Fulbecke was born in 1566; became, as we are told, an eminent writer on the law, and in the year when this tragedy was brought out, published a work called “Christian Ethics.” The “Maister Francis Bacon,” spoken of at the conclusion of the piece, was, of course, no other than [the great] Bacon; and it is a new feature in his biography, though not perhaps very prominent nor important, that he was so nearly concerned in the preparation of a play at court. In February 1587-8, he had just commenced his twenty-eighth year. Christopher Yelverton, as early as 1566, had written the epilogue to Gascoigne’s “Jocasta,” and on the present occasion was probably resorted to for his experience in such undertakings. Regarding Flower, Lancaster, and Penruddock we have nothing to communicate.

“The Misfortunes of Arthur” is a dramatic composition only known to exist in the Garrick Collection.[250] Judging from internal evidence, it seems to have been printed with unusual care under the superintendence of the principal author. In the course of it, some lines and words were cancelled, and those which were substituted were pasted over the objectionable passages. In the notes we have given both versions, and the whole is reprinted as nearly as possible in its original shape. The mere rarity of this unique drama would not have recommended it to our notice; but it is not likely that such a man as Bacon would have lent his aid to the production of a piece which was not intrinsically good, and unless we much mistake, there is a richer and a nobler vein of poetry running through it than is to be found in any previous work of the kind. The blank verse is generally free and flowing, although now and then deformed by alliteration, and rendered somewhat monotonous by the want of that variety of rhythm, which Marlowe may be said to have introduced, and which Shakespeare scarcely exceeded.

Most of the characters, and particularly those of Arthur and Mordred, are drawn with distinctness and vigour: the fiery and reckless ambition of the son is excellently contrasted with the cool determination and natural affection of the father. As an illustration of the former we may refer to many passages, but especially to several in the third scene of the second act; while the character and disposition of the latter are depicted in a masterly manner both before and after the final battle. This catastrophe, as far as relates to the death of Mordred, is mentioned by Dante in canto xxxii. of his “Inferno”--

“Non quelli a cui fu rotto il petto e l’ombra.
Con esso un colpo per la man d’Artu.”

The substance of the story is to be found in the “Morte Arthur.” The action is one, but the unities of time and place are disregarded; and although the tragedy in many respects is conducted upon the plan of the ancients, there are in it evident approaches to the irregularity of our romantic drama. It forms a sort of connecting link between such pieces of unimpassioned formality as “Ferrex and Porrex,” and rule-rejecting historical plays, as Shakespeare found them and left them.

THE NAMES OF THE SPEAKERS.

GORLOIS, _Duke of Cornwall’s Ghost_.
GUENEVERA, _the Queen_.
FRONIA, _a Lady of her train_.
ANGHARAD, _Sister to the Queen_.
MORDRED, _the Usurper_.
CONAN, _a faithful Councillor_.
_Nuntius of Arthur’s landing_.
_The Herald from Arthur_.
GAWIN, _King of Albany_.
GILLA, _a British Earl_.
GILLAMOR, _King of Ireland_.
CHELDRICH, _Duke of Saxony_.
_The Lord of the Picts._
ARTHUR, _King of Great Britain_.
CADOR, _Duke of Cornwall_.
HOEL, _King of Little Britain_.
_The Herald from Mordred_.
ASCHILLUS, _King of Denmark_.
_The King of Norway_.
_A number of Soldiers_.
_Nuntius of the last battle_.
GILDAS, _a nobleman of Britain_.

CHORUS.

THE INTRODUCTION.

An introduction, penned by Nicholas Trotte, Gentleman, one of the Society of Gray’s Inn, which was pronounced in manner following:--viz., Three Muses came on the stage apparelled accordingly, bringing five Gentlemen Students with them, attired in their usual garments, whom one of the Muses presented to Her Majesty as captives. The cause whereof she delivered by speech as followeth:--

Of conquest (gracious queen) the signs and fruits,
Achieved ’gainst such as wrongfully withheld
The service by choice wits to Muses due,
In humblest wise these captives we present.
And lest your highness might suspect the gift,
As spoil of war that justice might impeach,
Hear and discern how just our quarrel was,
Avouched (as you see) by good success.
A dame there is, whom men Astrœa term,
She that pronounceth oracles of laws,
Who to prepare fit servants for her train,
As by commission, takes up flow’ring wits,
Whom first she schooleth to forget and scorn
The noble skills of language and of arts,
The wisdom which discourse of stories teach:
The ornaments which various knowledge yields.
But poesy she hath in most disdain,
And marshals it next Folly’s scorned place.
Then, when she hath these worthy prints defac’d
Out of the minds that can endure her hand.
What doth she then supply instead of these?
Forsooth, some old reports of altered laws,
Clamours of courts, and cavils upon words,
Grounds without ground, supported by conceit,
And reasons of more subtlety than sense.
What shall I say of moot points strange, and doubts
Still argued, but never yet agreed?
And she that doth deride the poet’s law,
Because he must his words in order place,
Forgets her forms of pleading, more precise--
More bound to words than is the poet’s lore:
And for these fine conceits she fitly chose
A tongue that barbarism itself doth use.
We, noting all these wrongs, did long expect
Their hard condition would have made them wise,
To offer us their service, plac’d so ill;
But finding them addicted to their choice,
And specially desirous to present
Your Majesty with fruits of province new,
Now did resolve to double force and skill,
And found and us’d the vantage of the time,
Surpris’d their fort, and took them captives all.
So now submiss, as to their state belongs,
They gladly yield their homage long withdrawn,
And Poetry, which they did most contemn,
They glory now her favours for to wear.
My sisters laugh’d to see them take the pen,
And lose their wits all in unwonted walks:
But to your highness that delight we leave,
To see these poets new their style advance.
Such as they are, or nought or little worth,
Deign to accept, and therewith we beseech,
That novelty give price to worthless things.

_Unto this speech one of the Gentlemen answered
as followeth:_

Good ladies, unacquaint with cunning reach,
And eas’ly led to glory in your pow’r,
Hear now abash’d our late dissembled minds.
Nor now the first time, as yourselves best know,
Ye Muses sought our service to command:
Oft have ye wandered from Parnassus Hill,
And showed yourselves with sweet and tempting grace,
But yet return’d, your train increas’d with few.
This resolution doth continue still:
Unto Astrea’s name we honour bear,
Whose sound perfections we do more admire
Than all the vaunted store of Muses’ gifts,
Let this be one (which last you put in ure
In well depraving that deserveth praise)
No eloquence, disguising reason’s shape,
Nor poetry, each vain affection’s nurse,
No various history, that doth lead the mind
Abroad to ancient tales from instant use,
Nor these, nor other mo, too long to note,
Can win Astrea’s servants to remove
Their service once devote to better things.
They, with attentive minds and serious wits,
Revolve records of deep judicial acts;
They weigh with steady and indifferent hand
Each word of law, each circumstance of right:
They hold the grounds which time and use hath sooth’d,[251]
Though shallow sense conceive them as conceits--
Presumptuous sense, whose ignorance dare judge
Of things remov’d by reason from her reach.
One doubt, in moots by argument increas’d,
Clears many doubts experience doth object.
The language she first chose, and still retains,
Exhibits naked truth in aptest terms.
Our industry maintaineth unimpeach’d:
Prerogative of prince, respect to peers,
The Commons’ liberty and each man’s right;
Suppresseth mutin force and practice fraud,
Things that for worth our studious care deserve:
Yet never did we banish nor reject
Those ornaments of knowledge nor of tongues:
That slander envious ignorance did raise.
With Muses still we intercourse allow,
T’enrich our state with all their foreign freight;
But never homage nor acknowledgment,
Such as of subjects allegiance doth require.
Now hear the cause of your late conquest won.
We had discovered your intent to be
(And, sure, ye ladies are not secret all;
Speech and not silence is the Muse’s grace)
We well perceiv’d (I say) your mind to be
T’ employ such prisoners, as themselves did yield,
To serve a Queen, for whom her purest gold
Nature refin’d, that she might therein set
Both private and imperial virtues all.
Thus (Sovereign Lady of our laws and us)
Zeal may transform us into any shape.
We, which with trembling hand the pen did guide,
Never well pleas’d, all for desire to please;
For still your rare perfections did occur,
Which are admir’d of Muses and of men.
O, with how steady hand and heart assur’d,
Should we take up the warlike lance or sword,
With mind resolv’d to spend our loyal blood
Your least command with speed to execute!
O, that before our time the fleeting ship
Ne’er wandered had in watery wilderness,
That we might first that venture undertake
In strange attempt t’ approve our loyal hearts!
Be it soldiers, seamen, poets, or what else,
In service once enjoin’d, to ready minds
Our want of use should our devoir increase.
Now since instead of art we bring but zeal,
Instead of praise we humbly pardon crave.
The matter which we purpose to present,
Since straights of time our liberty controls,
In tragic notes the plagues of vice recounts.
How suits a tragedy for such a time?
Thus--for that since your sacred Majesty
In gracious hands the regal sceptre held,
All tragedies are fled from State to stage.

NICHOLAS TROTTE.

* * * * *

The misfortunes of Arthur (Uther Pendragon’s son) reduced into
tragical notes by Thomas Hughes, one of the society of Gray’s Inn,
and here set down as it passed from under his hands, and as it was
presented, excepting certain words and lines, where some of the
actors either helped their memories by brief omission, or fitted
their acting by some alteration; with a note in the end of such
speeches as were penned by others, in lieu of some of these
hereafter following.

_The Argument of the Tragedy._

At a banquet made by Uther Pendragon for the solemnising of his conquest against the Saxons, he fell enamoured of Igerna, wife to Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall who, perceiving the king’s passion, departed with his wife and prepared wars at Cornwall, where also, in a stronghold beyond him, he placed her. Then the king levied an army to suppress him, but waxing impatient of his desire to Igerna, transformed himself, by Merlin his cunning, into the likeness of Gorlois, and after his acceptance with Igerna he returned to his siege, where he slew Gorlois. Igerna was delivered of Arthur and Anne, twins of the same birth. Uther Pendragon, fifteen years after, pursuing the Saxons, was by them poisoned. Arthur delighted in his sister Anne, who made him father of Mordred. Seventeen years after, Lucius Tiberius of Rome demanded a tribute, due by conquest of Cæsar. Arthur gathered his powers of thirteen kings besides his own, and leaving his queen Guenevera in the tuition of Mordred, to whom likewise he committed the kingdom in his absence, arrived at France where, after nine years’ wars, he sent the slain body of Tiberius unto Rome for the tribute. During this absence, Mordred grew ambitious, for th’ effecting whereof he made love to Guenevera, who gave ear unto him. Then by th’ assistance of Gilla, a British lord, he usurped, and for maintenance entertained with large promises the Saxons, Irish, Picts, and Normans. Guenevera hearing that Arthur was already embarked for return, through despair purposing diversely, sometimes to kill her husband, sometimes to kill herself, at last resolved to enter into religion. Arthur at his landing was resisted on the strands of Dover, where he put Mordred to flight. The last field was fought at Cornwall where, after the death of one hundred and twenty thousand, saving on either side twenty, Mordred received his death, and Arthur his deadly wound.

_The Argument and Manner of the First Dumb-Show._

Sounding the music, there rose three furies from under the stage, apparelled accordingly with snakes and flames about their black hair and garments. The first with a snake in the right hand, and a cup of wine, with a snake athwart the cup, in the left hand. The second with a firebrand in the right hand, and a Cupid in the left. The third with a whip in the right hand and a Pegasus in the left. While they went masking about the stage, there came from another place three nuns, which walked by themselves. Then after a full sight given to the beholders, they all parted, the furies to Mordred’s house, the nuns to the cloister. By the first fury with the snake and cup was signified the banquet of Uther Pendragon, and afterward his death, which ensued by the poisoned cup. The second fury, with her firebrand and Cupid, represented Uther’s unlawful heat and love conceived at the banquet, which never ceased in his posterity. By the third, with her whip and Pegasus, was prefigured the cruelty and ambition which thence ensued and continued to th’ effecting of this tragedy. By the nuns was signified the remorse and despair of Guenevera that, wanting other hope, took a nunnery for her refuge. After their departure, the four which represented the Chorus took their places.

_The Argument of the First Act._

1. In the first scene the spirit of Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall, the man
first and most wronged in this history, being despoil’d both of
wife, dukedom, and life, craveth revenge for these injuries,
denouncing the whole misfortune ensuing.

2. In the second scene Guenevera, hearing that Arthur was on the seas
returning desperately, menaceth his death, from which intent she is
dissuaded by Fronia, a lady of her court, and privy to her secrets.

3. In the third scene Guenevera perplexedly mindeth her own death,
whence being dissuaded by her sister, she resolveth to enter into
religion.

4. In the fourth scene Mordred goeth about to persuade Guenevera to
persist in her love, but misseth thereof; and then is exhorted by
Conan (a nobleman of Britain) to reconcile himself to his father at
his coming, but refuseth so to do, and resolveth to keep him from
landing by battle.

THE MISFORTUNES OF ARTHUR.

THE FIRST ACT AND FIRST SCENE.

GORLOIS.[252]

Since thus through channels black of Limbo lake,
And deep infernal flood of Stygian pool,
The ghastly Charon’s boat transported back
Thy ghost from Pluto’s pits and glooming shade
To former light, once lost by dest’ny’s doom,
Where proud Pendragon, broil’d with shameful lust,
Despoil’d thee erst of wife, of land and life,
Now, Gorlois, work thy wish, cast here thy gall:
Glut on revenge! thy wrath abhors delays.
What though (besides Pendragon’s poisoned end)
The vile reproach he wrought thee by thy pheer,[253]
Through deep increase of crimes alike is plagu’d;
And that the shame thou sufered’st for his lusts,
Reboundeth back and stifleth in his stock,
Yet is not mischief’s measure all fulfill’d,
Nor wreak sufficient wrought. Thy murdered corpse
And dukedom reft for heavier vengeance cries.
Come, therefore, blooms of settled mischief’s root:
Come, each thing else what fury can invent,
Wreak all at once! infect the air with plagues,
Till bad to worse, till worse to worse be turn’d!
Let mischiefs know no mean, nor plagues an end!
Let th’ offspring’s sin exceed the former stock!
Let none have time to hate his former fault,
But still with fresh supply let punish’d crime
Increase, till time it make a complete sin!
Go to: some fact, which no age shall allow
Nor yet conceal--some fact must needs be dur’d,
That for the horror great and outrage fell
Thereof may well beseem Pendragon’s brood.
And first, while Arthur’s navies homeward float,
Triumphantly bedeck’d with Roman spoils,
Let Guenevera express what frantic moods
Distract a wife, when wronging wedlock’s rights,
Both fond and fell, she loves and loathes at once.
Let deep despair pursue till, loathing life,
Her hateful head in cowl and cloister lurk.
Let traitorous Mordred keep his sire from shore;
Let Britain rest a prey for foreign powers;
Let sword and fire, still fed with mutual strife,
Turn all the kings to ghosts: let civil wars
And discord swell, till all the realm be torn!
Even in that soil whereof myself was Duke,
Where first my spouse Igerna brake her vow,
Where this ungracious offspring was begot:
In Cornwall--there let Mordred’s death declare,
Let Arthur’s fatal wound bewray, the wrong,
The murder vile, the rape of wife and weal,
Wherewith their sire incens’d both Gods and man.
Thus, thus Pendragon’s seed, so sown and reap’d,
Thus cursed imps, ill-born and worse consum’d,
Shall render just revenge for parents’ crimes,
And penance do, t’ assuage my swelling wrath.
The whiles, O Cassiopœa, gem-bright sign,
Most sacred sight and sweet celestial star,
This climate’s joy, plac’d in imperial throne,
With fragrant olive-branch portending peace;
And whosoe’er besides, ye heavenly powers,
(Her stately train with influence divine,
And mild aspect all prone to Britain’s good)
Foresee what present plagues do threat this isle,
Prevent not this my wreak. For you there rests
A happier age, a thousand years to come;
An age for peace, religion, wealth, and ease,
When all the world shall wonder at your bliss:
That, that is yours! Leave this to Gorlois’ ghost.
And see where comes one engine of my hate,
With moods and manners fit for my revenge.
[_Exit_.

THE SECOND SCENE.

GUENEVERA, FRONIA.

GUENEVERA. And dares he after nine years’ space return,
And see her face, whom he so long disdain’d?
Was I then chose and wedded for his stale,
To look and gape for his retireless sails,
Puff’d back and flittering spread to every wind?
O wrong, content with no revenge, seek out
Undared plagues: teach Mordred how to rage:
Attempt some bloody, dreadful, irksome fact,
And such as Mordred would were rather his.
Why stayest? It must he done! let bridle go:
Frame out some trap beyond all vulgar guile,
Beyond Medea’s wiles: attempt some fact,
That any wight unwieldy[254] of herself,
That any spouse unfaithful to her pheer,
Durst e’er attempt in most despair of weal.
Spare no revenge, b’ it poison, knife, or fire!

FRONIA. Good madam, temper these outrageous moods,
And let not will usurp, where wit should rule.

GUENEVERA. The wrath that breatheth blood doth loathe to lurk:
What reason most withholds, rage wrings perforce.
I am disdain’d: so will I not be long.
That very hour that he shall first arrive,
Shall be the last that shall afford him life.
Though neither seas, nor lands, nor wars abroad
Sufficed for thy foil, yet shalt thou find
Far worse at home--thy deep-displeased spouse.
Whate’er thou hast subdu’d in all thy stay
This hand shall now subdue; then stay thy fill.
What’s this? my mind recoils and irks these threats:
Anger delays, my grief gins to assuage,
My fury faints, and sacred wedlock’s faith
Presents itself. Why shunn’st thou fearful wrath?
Add coals afresh: preserve me to this venge,
At least exile thyself to realms unknown,
And steal his wealth to help thy banish’d state;
For flight is best. O base and heartless fear!
Theft? Exile? Flight? all these may fortune send
Unsought; but thee beseems more high revenge.
Come, spiteful fiends, come, heaps of furies fell,
Not one by one, but all at once! my breast
Raves not enough: it likes me to be fill’d
With greater monsters yet. My heart doth throb,
My liver boils: somewhat my mind portends,
Uncertain what; but whatsoever, it’s huge.
So it exceed, be what it will, it’s well.
Omit no plague, and none will be enough:
Wrong cannot be reveng’d but by excess.

FRONIA. O, spare this heat! you yield too much to rage:
Y’ are too unjust. Is there no mean in wrong?

GUENEVERA. Wrong claims a mean, when first you offer wrong:
The mean is vain when wrong is in revenge.
Great harms cannot be hid: the grief is small,
That can receive advice, or rule itself.

FRONIA. Hatred conceal’d doth often hap to hurt,
But once profess’d, it oft’ner fails revenge.
How better tho’ wert to repress your ire:
A lady’s best revenge is to forgive.
What mean is in your hate? how much soe’er
You can invent or dare, so much you hate.

GUENEVERA. And would you know what mean there is in hate?
Call love to mind, and see what mean is there!
My love, redoubled love, and constant faith
Engaged unto Mordred works so deep,
That both my heart and marrow quite be burnt,
And sinews dried with force of wontless flames.
Desire to joy him still torments my mind:
Fear of his want doth add a double grief.
Lo, here the love that stirs this meanless hate!

FRONIA. Eschew it far: such love impugns the laws.

GUENEVERA. Unlawful love doth like, when lawful loathes.

FRONIA. And is your love of husband quite extinct?

GUENEVERA. The greater flame must needs delay the less:
Besides, his sore revenge I greatly fear.

FRONIA. How can you then attempt a fresh offence?

GUENEVERA. Who can appoint a stint to her offence?

FRONIA. But here the greatness of the fact should move.

GUENEVERA. The greater it, the fitter for my grief.

FRONIA. To kill your spouse?

GUENEVERA. A stranger and a foe.

FRONIA. Your liege and king.

GUENEVERA. He wants both realm and crown.