Chapter XX: Epilogue: Spoken by Julio (3)

YOUNG MARIUS. Not fear, my friend, for I could never fly; But study how with honour for to die. I pray thee, call the chiefest citizens; I must advise them in a weighty cause: Here shall they meet me; and, until they come, I will go view the danger of the breach.

[_Exit_ YOUNG MARIUS, _with the Soldiers_.

_Enter, with drums and Soldiers_, LUCRETIUS, _with
other Romans, as_ TUDITANUS, &c.

LUCRETIUS. Say, Tuditanus, didst thou ever see So desperate defence as this hath been.

TUDITANUS. As in Numidia, tigers wanting food, Or, as in Lybia, lions full of ire, So fare these Romans on Praeneste walls.

LUCRETIUS. Their valour, Tuditanus, and resist, The man-like fight of younger Marius, Makes me amaz'd to see their miseries, And pity them, although they be my foes. What said I? Foes? O Rome, with ruth I see Thy state consum'd through folly and dissension! Well, sound a parley; I will see if words

[_Sound a parley_--YOUNG MARIUS _appears
upon the walls with the Citizens_.

Can make them yield, which will not fly for strokes.

YOUNG MARIUS. What seeks this Roman warrior at our hands?

LUCRETIUS. That seeks he, Marius, that he wisheth thee: An humble heart and then a happy peace. Thou see'st thy fortunes are depress'd and down; Thy victuals spent; thy soldiers weak with want; The breach laid open, ready to assault: Now, since thy means and maintenance are done, Yield, Marius, yield. Praenestians, be advis'd; Lucretius is advis'd to favour you. I pray thee, Marius, mark my last advice: Relent in time; let Sylla be thy friend; So thou in Rome may'st lead a happy life, And those with thee shall pray for Marius still.

YOUNG MARIUS. Lucretius, I consider on thy words: Stay there awhile; thou shalt have answer straight.

LUCRETIUS. Apollo grant that my persuasions may Preserve these Roman soldiers from the sword.

YOUNG MARIUS. My friends and citizens of Praeneste town, You see the wayward working of our stars; Our hearts confirm'd to fight, our victuals spent. If we submit, it's Sylla must remit; A tyrant, traitor, enemy to Rome, Whose heart is guarded still with bloody thoughts. These flattering vows Lucretius here avows, Are pleasing words to colour poison'd thoughts. What, will you live with shame, or die with fame?

1ST CITIZEN. A famous death, my lord, delights us most.

2D CITIZEN. We of thy faction, Marius, are resolv'd To follow thee in life and death together.

YOUNG MARIUS. Words full of worth, beseeming noble minds: The very balsamum to mend my woes. O countrymen! you see Campania spoil'd; A tyrant threat'ning mutinies in Rome; A world despoil'd of virtue, faith, and trust. If then, no peace, no liberty, no faith, Conclude with me, and let it be no life! Live not to see your tender infants slain; These stately towers made level with the land; This body mangled by our enemy's sword: But full resolv'd to do as Marius doth, Unsheathe your poniards, and let every friend Bethink him of a soldier-like farewell. Sirrah, display my standard on the walls, And I will answer yond Lucretius: Who loveth Marius, now must die with Marius!

LUCRETIUS. What answer will your lordship then return us?

YOUNG MARIUS. Lucretius, we that know what Sylla is-- How dissolute, how trothless and corrupt, In brief conclude to die, before we yield: But so to die--Lucretius, mark me well-- As loth to see the fury of our swords Should murther friends and Roman citizens. Fie, countrymen! what fury doth infect Your warlike bosoms, that were wont to fight With foreign foes, not with Campanian friends. Now unadvised youth must counsel eld; For governance is banish'd out of Rome. Woe to that bough, from whence these blooms are sprung! Woe to that Aetna, vomiting this fire! Woe to that brand, consuming country's weal! Woe to that Sylla, careless and secure, That gapes with murder for a monarchy! Go, second Brutus, with a Roman mind, And kill that tyrant. And for Marius' sake, Pity the guiltless wives of these your friends. Preserve their weeping infants from the sword, Whose fathers seal their honours with their bloods. Farewell, Lucretius: first I press in place [_Stab_. To let thee see a constant Roman die. Praenestians, lo, a wound, a fatal wound! The pain but small, the glory passing great! Praenestians, see a second stroke! why so; [_Again_. I feel the dreeping dimness of the night, Closing the coverts of my careful eyes. Follow me, friends; for Marius now must die With fame, in spite of Sylla's tyranny.[158] [_Moritur_.

1ST CITIZEN. We follow thee our chieftain even in death. Our town is thine, Lucretius; but we pray For mercy for our children and our wives. [_Moritur_.

2D CITIZEN. O, save my son, Lucretius; let him live.
[_Moritur_.

LUCRETIUS. A wondrous and bewitched constancy, Beseeming Marius' pride and haughty mind. Come, let us charge the breach; the town is ours. Both male and female, put them to the sword: So please you, Sylla, and fulfil his word.

[_Exeunt_.

_A little skirmish. A retreat. Enter in royally_ LUCRETIUS.

LUCRETIUS. Now, Romans, we have brought Praeneste low, And Marius sleeps amidst the dead at last: So then to Rome, my countrymen, with joy, Where Sylla waits the tidings of our fight. Those prisoners that are taken, see forthwith With warlike javelins you put them to death. Come, let us march! See Rome in sight, my hearts, Where Sylla waits the tidings of our war.

_Enter_ SYLLA, VALERIUS FLACCUS, LEPIDUS, POMPEY, _Citizens'
Guard_: SYLLA, _seated in his robes of state, is saluted by
the Citizens, &c_.

FLACCUS. Romans, you know, and to your griefs have seen A world of troubles hatched here at home, Which through prevention being well-nigh cross'd By worthy Sylla and his warlike band, I, consul, with these fathers think it meet To fortify our peace and city's weal, To name some man of worth that may supply Dictator's power and place; whose majesty Shall cross the courage of rebellious minds. What think you, Romans, will you condescend?

SYLLA. Nay, Flaccus, for their profits they must yield; For men of mean condition and conceit Must humble their opinions to their lords. And if my friends and citizens consent, Since I am born to manage mighty things, I will, though loth, both rule and govern them. I speak not this, as though I wish to reign, But for to know my friends: and yet again I merit, Romans, far more grace than this.

FLACCUS. Ay, countrymen, if Sylla's power and mind, If Sylla's virtue, courage, and device, If Sylla's friends and fortunes merit fame, None then but he should bear dictator's name.

POMPEY. What think you, citizens, why stand ye mute? Shall Sylla be dictator here in Rome?

CITIZENS. By full consent Sylla shall be dictator.

FLACCUS. Then in the name of Rome I here present The rods and axes into Sylla's hand; And fortunate prove Sylla, our dictator.

[_Trumpets sound: cry within_, SYLLA _Dictator_.

SYLLA. My fortunes, Flaccus, cannot be impeach'd. For at my birth the planets passing kind Could entertain no retrograde aspects: And that I may with kindness 'quite their love, My countrymen, I will prevent the cause 'Gainst all the false encounters of mishap. You name me your dictator, but prefix No time, no course, but give me leave to rule And yet exempt me not from your revenge. Thus by your pleasures being set aloft, Straight by your furies I should quickly fall. No, citizens, who readeth Sylla's mind, Must form my titles in another kind: Either let Sylla be dictator ever, Or flatter Sylla with these titles never.

CITIZENS. Perpetual be thy glory and renown: Perpetual lord dictator shalt thou be.

POMPEY. Hereto the senate frankly doth agree.

SYLLA. Then so shall Sylla reign, you senators. Then so shall Sylla rule, you citizens, As senators and citizens that please me Shall be my friends; the rest cannot disease me.

_Enter_ LUCRETIUS, _with Soldiers_.

But see, whereas Lucretius is return'd! Welcome, brave Roman: where is Marius? Are these Praenestians put unto the sword?

LUCRETIUS. The city, noble Sylla, razed is, And Marius dead--not by our swords, my lord, But with more constancy than Cato died.

SYLLA. What, constancy! and but a very boy? Why then I see he was his father's son. But let us have this constancy described.

LUCRETIUS. After our fierce assaults and their resist, Our siege, their sallying out to stop our trench, Labour and hunger reigning in the town, The younger Marius on the city's wall Vouchsaf'd an inter-parley at the last; Wherein with constancy and courage too He boldly arm'd his friends, himself, to death; And, spreading of his colours on the wall, For answer said he could not brook to yield, Or trust a tyrant such as Sylla was.

SYLLA. What, did the brainsick boy upbraid me so? But let us hear the rest, Lucretius.

LUCRETIUS. And, after great persuasions to his friends And worthy resolution of them all, He first did sheathe his poniard in his breast, And so in order died all the rest.

SYLLA. Now, by my sword, this was a worthy jest.[159] Yet, silly boy, I needs must pity thee, Whose noble mind could never mated be. Believe me, countrymen, a sudden thought, A sudden change in Sylla now hath wrought. Old Marius and his son were men of name, Nor fortune's laughs nor low'rs their minds could tame, And when I count their fortunes that are past, I see that death confirm'd their fames at last. Then he that strives to manage mighty things, Amidst his triumphs gains a troubled mind. The greatest hope, the greatest harm it brings, And poor men in content their glory find. If then content be such a pleasant thing, Why leave I country life to live a king? Yet kings are gods, and make the proudest stoop; Yea, but themselves are still pursued with hate: And men were made to mount and then to droop. Such chances wait upon uncertain fate. That where she kisseth once, she quelleth twice; Then whoso lives content is happy, wise. What motion moveth this philosophy? O Sylla, see the ocean ebbs and flows;[160] The spring-time wanes, when winter draweth nigh: Ay, these are true and most assured notes. Inconstant chance such tickle turns has lent. As whoso fears no fall, must seek content.

FLACCUS. Whilst graver thoughts of honour should allure thee, What maketh Sylla muse and mutter thus?

SYLLA. I, that have pass'd amidst the mighty troops Of armed legions, through a world of war, Do now bethink me, Flaccus, of my chance: How I alone, where many men were slain, In spite of fate am come to Rome again. And though[161] I wield the reverend stiles of state; She[162], Sylla, with a beck could break thy neck. What lord of Rome hath dar'd as much as I? Yet, Flaccus, know'st thou not that I must die? The labouring sisters on the weary looms Have drawn my web of life at length, I know; And men of wit must think upon their tombs: For beasts with careless steps to Lethe go Where men, whose thoughts and honours climb on high, Living with fame, must learn with fame to die.

POMPEY. What lets, my lord, in governing this state, To live in rest, and die with honour too?

SYLLA. What lets me, Pompey? why, my courteous friend, Can he remain secure that wields a charge, Or think of wit when flatterers do commend, Or be advis'd that careless runs at large? No, Pompey: honey words make foolish minds, And pow'r the greatest wit with error blinds. Flaccus, I murder'd Anthony, thy friend; Romans, some here have lost at my command Their fathers, mothers, brothers, and allies; And think you, Sylla, thinking these misdeeds, Bethinks not on your grudges and mislike? Yes, countrymen, I bear them still in mind: Then, Pompey, were I not a silly man To leave my rule, and trust these Romans then?

POMPEY. Your grace hath small occasions of mistrust, Nor seek these citizens for your disclaim.

SYLLA. But, Pompey, now these reaching plumes of pride, That mounted up my fortunes to the clouds, By grave conceits shall straight be laid aside, And Sylla thinks of far more simple shrouds. For having tried occasion in the throne, I'll see if she dare frown, when state is gone. Lo, senators, the man that sat aloft, Now deigns to give inferiors highest place. Lo, here the man whom Rome repined oft, A private man content to brook disgrace. Romans, lo, here the axes, rods, and all: I'll master fortune, lest she make me thrall. Now whoso list accuse me, tell my wrongs, Upbraid me in the presence of this state. Is none these jolly citizens among, That will accuse, or say I am ingrate? Then will I say, and boldly boast my chances, That nought may force the man whom fate advances.

FLACCUS. What meaneth Sylla in this sullen mood, To leave his titles on the sudden thus?

SYLLA. Consul, I mean with calm and quiet mind To pass my days, till[163] happy death I find.

POMPEY. What greater wrong than leave thy country so?

SYLLA. Both it and life must Sylla leave in time.

CITIZEN. Yet during life have care of Rome and us.

SYLLA. O wanton world, that flatter'st in thy prime, And breathest balm and poison mixed in one! See how these wavering Romans wish'd my reign, That whilom fought and sought to have me slain. [_Aside_.] My countrymen, this city wants no store Of fathers, warriors, to supply my room; So grant me peace, and I will die for Rome.

_Enter two Burglars to them_, POPPEY _and_ CURTALL.

CURTALL. These are very indiscreet counsels, neighbour Poppey, and I will follow your misadvisement.

POPPEY. I tell you, goodman Curtall, the wench hath wrong. O vain world, O foolish men! Could a man in nature cast a wench down, and disdain in nature to lift her up again? Could he take away her dishonesty without bouncing up the banns of matrimony? O learned poet, well didst thou write fustian verse.

_These maids are daws
That go to the laws,
And a babe in the belly_.

CURTALL. Tut, man, 'tis the way the world must follow, for

_Maids must be kind,
Good husbands to find_.

POPPEY. But mark the fierse[164],

_If they swell before,
It will grieve them sore_.

But see, yond's Master Sylla: faith, a pretty fellow is a.

SYLLA. What seek my countrymen? what would my friends?

CURTALL. Nay, sir, your kind words shall not serve the turn: why, think you to thrust your soldiers into our kindred with your courtesies, sir?

POPPEY. I tell you, Master Sylla, my neighbour will have the law: he had the right, he will have the wrong; for therein dwells the law.

CONSUL. What desire these men of Rome?

CURTALL. Neighbour, sharpen the edge-tool of your wits upon the whetstone of indiscretion, that your words may shine like the razors of Palermo[165]: [_to_ POPPEY] you have learning with ignorance, therefore speak my tale.

POPPEY. Then, worshipful Master Sylla, be it known unto you, That my neighbour's daughter Dority Was a maid of restority; Fair, fresh, and fine As a merry cup of wine; Her eyes like two potch'd eggs, Great and goodly her legs; But mark my doleful ditty, Alas! for woe and pity! A soldier of your's Upon a bed of flowers Gave her such a fall, As she lost maidenhead and all. And thus in very good time I end my rudeful rhyme.

SYLLA. And what of this, my friend? why seek you me, Who have resign'd my titles and my state, To live a private life, as you do now? Go move the Consul Flaccus in this cause, Who now hath power to execute the laws.

CURTALL. And are you no more master dixcator, nor generality of the soldiers?

SYLLA. My powers do cease, my titles are resign'd.

CURTALL. Have you signed your titles? O base mind, that being in the Paul's steeple of honour, hast cast thyself into the sink of simplicity. Fie, beast! Were I a king, I would day by day Suck up white bread and milk, And go a-jetting in a jacket of silk; My meat should be the curds, My drink should be the whey, And I would have a mincing lass to love me every day.

POPPEY. Nay, goodman Curtall, your discretions are very simple; let me cramp him with a reason. Sirrah, whether is better good ale or small-beer? Alas! see his simplicity that cannot answer me: why, I say ale.

CURTALL. And so say I, neighbour.

POPPEY. Thou hast reason; ergo, say I, 'tis better be a king than a clown. Faith, Master Sylla, I hope a man may now call ye knave by authority.

SYLLA. With what impatience hear I these upbraids, That whilom plagued the least offence with death. O Sylla, these are stales of destiny By some upbraids to try thy constancy. My friends, these scorns of yours perhaps may move The next dictator shun to yield his state, For fear he find as much as Sylla doth. But, Flaccus, to prevent their farther wrong, Vouchsafe some lictor may attach the man, And do them right that thus complain abuse.

FLACCUS. Sirrah, go you and bring the soldier, That hath so loosely lean'd to lawless lust: We will have means sufficient, be assured, To cool his heat, and make the wanton chaste.

CURTALL. We thank your mastership. Come, neighbour, let us jog. Faith, this news will set my daughter Dorothy agog.

[_Exeunt cum Lictore_.

SYLLA. Grave senators and Romans, now you see The humble bent of Sylla's changed mind. Now will I leave you, lords, from courtly train To dwell content amidst my country cave, Where no ambitious humours shall approach The quiet silence of my happy sleep: Where no delicious jouissance or toys Shall tickle with delight my temper'd ears; But wearying out the lingering day with toil, Tiring my veins, and furrowing of my soul, The silent night, with slumber stealing on, Shall lock these careful closets of mine eyes. O, had I known the height of happiness, Or bent mine eyes upon my mother-earth, Long since, O Rome, had Sylla with rejoice Forsaken arms to lead a private life!

FLACCUS. But in this humbleness of mind, my lord, Whereas experience prov'd and art do meet, How happy were these fair Italian fields, If they were graced with so sweet a sun. Then I for Rome, and Rome with me, requires That Sylla will abide, and govern Rome.

SYLLA. O Flaccus, if th'Arabian phoenix strive By nature's warning to renew her kind, When, soaring nigh the glorious eye of heaven, She from her cinders doth revive her sex, Why should not Sylla learn by her to die, That erst have been the Phoenix of this land? And drawing near the sunshine of content, Perish obscure to make your glories grow. For as the higher trees do shield the shrubs From posting Phlegon's[166] warmth and breathing fire, So mighty men obscure each other's fame, And make the best deservers fortune's game.

_Enter_ GENIUS.

But ah, what sudden furies do affright? What apparitious fantasies are these? O, let me rest, sweet lords, for why methinks Some fatal spells are sounded in mine ears.

GENIUS. _Subsequitur tua mors: privari lumine Syllam, Numina Parcarum jam fera precipiunt Precipiunt fera jam Parcarum numina Syllam Lumine privari: mors tua subsequitur. Elysium petis, ô faelix! et fatidici astri Praescius: Heroes, ô, petis innumeros! Innumeros petis, ô, Heroes, praescius astri Fatidici: et faelix, ô, petis Elysium_! [Evanescit subitò.

SYLLA. _Ergó-ne post dulces annos properantia fata? Ergo-ne jam tenebrae praemia lucis erunt? Attamen, ut vitae fortunam gloria mortis Vincat, in extremo funere cantet olor_.

POMPEY. How fares my lord? what dreadful thoughts are these? What doubtful answers on a sudden thus?

SYLLA. Pompey, the man that made the world to stoop, And fetter'd fortune in the chains of power, Must droop and draw the chariot of fate Along the darksome banks of Acheron. The heavens have warn'd me of my present fall. O, call Cornelia forth: let Sylla see His daughter Fulvia, ere his eyes be shut.

[_Exit one for_ CORNELIA.

FLACCUS. Why, Sylla, where is now thy wonted hope In greatest hazard of unstayed chance. What, shall a little biting blast of pain Blemish the blossoms of thy wonted pride?

SYLLA. My Flaccus, worldly joys and pleasures fade; Inconstant time, like to the fleeting tide, With endless course man's hopes doth overbear: Nought now remains that Sylla fain would have, But lasting fame, when body lies in grave.

_Enter_ CORNELIA, FULVIA.

CORNELIA. How fares my lord? How doth my gentle Sylla.

SYLLA. Ah, my Cornelia! passing happy now: Free from the world, allied unto the heavens: Not curious of incertain chances now.

CORNELIA. Words full of woe, still adding to my grief, A cureless cross of many hundred harms. O, let not Rome and poor Cornelia lose, The one her friend, the other her delight.

SYLLA. Cornelia, man hath power by some instinct And gracious revolution of the stars, To conquer kingdoms, not to master fate: For when the course of mortal life is run, Then Clotho ends the web her sister spun. Pompey, Lord Flaccus, fellow-senators, In that I feel the faintful dews of death Steeping mine eyes within their chilly wet, The care I have of wife and daughter both, Must on your wisdom happily rely. With equal distribution see you part My lands and goods betwixt these lovely twain: Only bestow a hundred thousand sesterces Upon my friends and fellow-soldiers. Thus, having made my final testament, Come, Fulvia, let thy father lay his head Upon thy lovely bosom, and entreat A virtuous boon and favour at thy hands. Fair Roman maid, see that thou wed thy fairness[167] To modest, virtuous, and delightful thoughts: Let Rome, in viewing thee, behold thy sire. Honour Cornelia, from whose fruitful womb Thy plenteous beauties sweetly did appear; And with this lesson, lovely maid, farewell.

FULVIA. O tedious and unhappy chance for me.

SYLLA. Content thee, Fulvia, for it needs must be. Cornelia, I must leave thee to the world; And by those loves that I have lent thee oft, In mutual wedlock-rites and happy war, Remember Sylla in my Fulvia still. Consul, farewell! my Pompey, I must hence: And farewell, Rome: and, Fortune, now I bless thee, That both in life and death would'st not oppress me! [_Dies_.

CORNELIA. O hideous storms of never-daunted fate! Now are those eyes, whose sweet reflections cool'd The smother'd rancours of rebellious thoughts, Clad with the sable mantles of the night; And like the tree that, robb'd of sun and showers, Mourns desolate withouten leaf or sap, So poor Cornelia, late bereft of love, Sits sighing, hapless, joyless, and forlorn.

FULVIA. Gone is the flow'r that did adorn our fields; Fled are those sweet reflections of delight: Dead is my father! Fulvia, dead is he In whom thy life, for whom thy death, must be.

FLACCUS. Ladies, to tire the time in restless moan Were tedious unto friends and nature too. Sufficeth you, that Sylla so is dead, As fame shall sing his power, though life be fled.

POMPEY. Then to conclude his happiness, my lords, Determine where shall be his funeral.

LEPIDUS. Even there where other nobles are interr'd.

POMPEY. Why, Lepidus, what Roman ever was, That merited so high a name as he? Then why with simple pomp and funeral Would you entomb so rare a paragon?

CORNELIA. An urn of gold shall hem his ashes in: The vestal virgins with their holy notes Shall sing his famous, though too fatal, death. I and my Fulvia with dispersed hair Will wait upon this noble Roman's hearse.

FULVIA. And Fulvia, clad in black and mournful pall, Will wait upon her father's funeral.

POMPEY. Come, bear we hence this trophy of renown, Whose life, whose death, was far from fortune's frown.

[_Exeunt omnes.

The funerals of_ SYLLA _in great pomp.

Deo juvante, nil nocet livor malus:
Et non juvante nil juvat labor gravis_.

FINIS.

MUCEDORUS.

_EDITIONS.

A Most pleasant Comedie of Mucedorus the kings sonne of Valentia and Amadine the Kings daughter of Arragon, with the merie conceites of Mouse. Newly set foorth, as it hath bin sundrie times plaide in the honorable Cittie of London. Very delectable and full of mirth. London Printed for William Iones, dwelling at Holborne conduit, at the signe of the Gunne_. 1598. 4°.

_A Most pleasant Comedie of Mucedorus the Kings sonne of Valentia, and Amadine the Kings daughter of Aragon. With the merry conceites of Mouse. Amplified with new additions, as it was acted before the Kings Maiestie at White-hall on Shroue-Sunday night. By his Highnes Seruants vsually playing at the Globe. Very delectable, and full of conceited Mirth. Imprinted at London for William Iones, dwelling neare Holborne Conduit, at the signe of the Gunne_. 1610. 4°.

An edition of 1606 is mentioned in "Beauclerc's Catalogue," 1781, as noticed by Hazlitt. There were others in 1613, 1615, 1619, 1668, and without date, all in 4°.

This drama, at one time conjecturally given to Shakespeare, is now first reprinted from the original copy of 1598, collated with that of 1610; and the additions are inserted between brackets. Whether the additions and corrections were the work of the original writer, or of some one else, is uncertain; but it does not appear improbable that they were the author's.

From the play of "Mucedorus" was formed a ballad entitled "The Wandering Prince and Princess, or Mucedorus and Amadine."

THE PROLOGUE.[168]

Most sacred Majesty, whose great deserts Thy subject England, nay, the world, admires: Which heaven grant still increase! O, may your praise Multiplying with your hours, your fame still raise. Embrace your Council: love with faith them guide, That both at one bench, by each other's side. So may your life pass on, and run so even, That your firm zeal plant you a throne in heaven, Where smiling angels shall your guardians be From blemish'd traitors, stain'd with perjury. And, as the night's inferior to the day, So be all earthly regions to your sway! Be as the sun to day, the day to night, For from your beams Europe shall borrow light. Mirth drown your bosom, fair delight your mind, And may our pastime your contentment find. [_Exit_ Prologue.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

_Eight[169] persons may easily play it.

The_ KING _and_ RUMBELO. _For one_. MUCEDORUS, _the Prince of Valencia. For one_. AMADINE, _the_ KING'S _daughter of Arragon. For one_. SEGASTO, _a Nobleman. For one_. ENVY: TREMELIO, _a Captain. | For one_. BREMO, _a wild man_. | COMEDY, _a boy, an old woman. | For one_. ARIENA, AMADINE'S _maid_. | COLLEN, _a Councillor, a Messenger. For one_. MOUSE, _the Clown. For one_.

MUCEDORUS.

_Enter_ COMEDY _joyfully, with a garland of bays on her head_.

Why so; thus do I hope to please: Music revives, and mirth is tolerable, Comedy, play thy part, and please; Make merry them that come to joy with thee. Joy, then, good gentles; I hope to make you laugh. Sound forth Bellona's silver-tuned strings. Time fits us well, the day and place is ours.

_Enter_ ENVY, _his arms naked, besmeared with blood_.

ENVY. Nay, stay, minion; there lies a block! What, all on mirth? I'll interrupt your tale, And mix your music with a tragic end.

COMEDY. What monstrous ugly hag is this, That dares control the pleasures of our will? Vaunt, churlish cur, besmear'd with gory blood, That seem'st to check the blossoms of delight, And stifle the sound of sweet Bellona's breath, Blush, monster, blush, and post away with shame, That seekest disturbance of a goddess' deeds.

ENVY. Post hence thyself, thou counterchecking trull; I will possess this habit, spite of thee, And gain the glory of thy wished port. I'll thunder music shall appal the nymphs, And make them shiver their clattering strings: Flying for succour to their Danish caves.

_Sound drums within, and cry, Stab, stab_!

Hearken, thou shalt hear a noise Shall fill the air with a shrilling sound, And thunder music to the gods above: Mars shall himself breathe down A peerless crown upon brave Envy's head, And raise his chival with a lasting fame. In this brave music Envy takes delight, Where I may see them wallow in their blood, To spurn at arms and legs quite shivered off, And hear the cry of many thousand slain, How lik'st thou this, my trull? this sport alone for me!

COMEDY. Vaunt, bloody cur, nurs'd up with tigers' sap, That so dost seek to quail a woman's mind. Comedy is mild, gentle, willing for to please, And seeks to gain the love of all estates. Delighting in mirth, mix'd all with lovely tales, And bringeth things with treble joy to pass. Thou bloody envious disdainer of men's joys, Whose name is fraught with bloody stratagems, Delights in nothing but in spoil and death, Where thou may'st trample in their lukewarm blood, And grasp their hearts within thy cursed paws. Yet veil thy mind; revenge thou not on me; A silly woman begs it at thy hands. Give me the leave to utter out my play; Forbear this place; I humbly crave thee, hence! And mix not death 'mongst pleasing comedies, That treat nought else but pleasure and delight. If any spark of human rests in thee, Forbear; begone; tender the suit of me.

ENVY. Why, so I will; forbearance shall be such, As treble death shall cross thee with despite, And make thee mourn, where most thou joyest, Turning thy mirth into a deadly dole: Whirling thy pleasures with a peal of death, And drench thy methods in a sea of blood. This will I do; thus shall I bear with thee; And, more to vex thee with a deeper spite, I will with threats of blood begin thy play: Favouring thee with envy and with hate.

COMEDY. Then, ugly monster, do thy worst; I will defend them in despite of thee: And though thou think'st with tragic fumes To brave my play unto my deep disgrace, I force it not, I scorn what thou canst do; I'll grace it so, thyself shall it confess, From tragic stuff to be a pleasant comedy.

ENVY. Why then, Comedy, send thy actors forth, And I will cross the first steps of their tread, Making them fear the very dart of death.

COMEDY. And I'll defend them, maugre all thy spite. So, ugly fiend, farewell, till time shall serve, That we may meet to parley for the best.

ENVY. Content, Comedy; I'll go spread my branch And scattered blossoms from mine envious tree, Shall prove two monsters, spoiling of their joys. [_Exit.

[_Sound.] Enter_ MUCEDORUS _and_ ANSELMO, _his friend_.

MUCEDORUS. Anselmo.

ANSELMO. My lord and friend.

MUCEDORUS. True, my Anselmo, both thy lord and friend, Whose dear affections bosom with my heart, And keep their domination in one orb.

ANSELMO. Whence ne'er disloyalty shall root it forth, But faith plant firmer in your choice respect.

MUCEDORUS. Much blame were mine, if I should other deem, Nor can coy Fortune contrary allow. But, my Anselmo, loth I am to say, I must estrange that friendship. Misconstrue not; 'tis from the realm, not thee: Though lands part bodies, hearts keep company. Thou know'st that I imparted often have Private relations with my royal sire, Had as concerning beauteous Amadine, Rich Arragon's bright jewel, whose face (some say) That blooming lilies never shone so gay, Excelling, not excell'd: yet, lest report Does mangle verity, boasting of what is not, Wing'd with desire, thither I'll straight repair, And be my fortunes, as my thoughts are, fair!

ANSELMO. Will you forsake Valencia, leave the court, Absent you from the eye of sovereignty? Do not, sweet prince, adventure on that task, Since danger lurks each where; be won from it.

MUCEDORUS. Desist dissuasion, My resolution brooks no battery, Therefore, if thou retain thy wonted form, Assist what I intend.

ANSELMO. Your miss will breed a blemish in the court, And throw a frosty dew upon that beard, Whose front Valencia stoops to.

MUCEDORUS. If thou my welfare tender, then no more; Let love's strong magic charm thy trivial phrase, Wasted as vainly as to gripe the sun. Augment not then more answers; lock thy lips, Unless thy wisdom suit me with disguise, According to my purpose.

ANSELMO. That action craves no counsel, Since what you rightly are, will more command, Than best usurped shape.

MUCEDORUS. Thou still art opposite in disposition; A more obscure servile habiliment Beseems this enterprise.

ANSELMO. Then like a Florentine or mountebank!

MUCEDORUS. 'Tis much too tedious; I dislike thy judgment, My mind is grafted on an humbler stock.

ANSELMO. Within my closet does there hang a cassock-- Though base the weed is, 'twas a shepherd's-- Which I presented in Lord Julio's masque.

MUCEDORUS. That, my Anselmo, and none else but that, Mask Mucedorus from the vulgar view. That habit suits my mind; fetch me that weed. [_Exit ANSELMO_. Better than kings have not disdain'd that state, And much inferior, to obtain their mate.

_Re-enter_ ANSELMO _with a shepherd's coat, which he
gives to_ MUCEDORUS.

MUCEDORUS. So let our respect command thy secrecy. At once a brief farewell; Delay to lovers is a second hell. [_Exit MUCEDORUS_.

ANSELMO. Prosperity forerun thee: awkward chance Never be neighbour to thy wishes' venture: Content and Fame advance thee: ever thrive, And glory thy mortality survive!

_Enter_ MOUSE _with a bottle of hay_.

MOUSE. O, horrible, terrible! Was ever poor gentleman so scar'd out of his seven senses? A bear? Nay, sure it cannot be a bear, but some devil in a bear's doublet; for a bear could never have had that agility to have frighted me. Well, I'll see my father hanged before I'll serve his horse any more. Well, I'll carry home my bottle of hay, and for once make my father's horse turn Puritan, and observe fasting-days, for he gets not a bit. But soft! this way she followed me; therefore I'll take the other path; and because I'll be sure to have an eye on him, I will take hands with some foolish creditor, and make every step backward.

[_As he goes backwards, the bear comes in, and
he tumbles over her, and runs away, and leaves
his bottle of hay behind him.]

Enter_ SEGASTO _running, and_ AMADINE _after him,
being pursued with a bear_.

SEGASTO. O, fly, madam, fly, or else we are but dead!

AMADINE. Help, Segasto! help, help, sweet Segasto, or else I die!

[SEGASTO _runs away_.

SEGASTO. Alas, madam! there is no way but flight; Then haste, and save yourself.

AMADINE. Why then I die; ah! help me in distress.

_Enter_ MUCEDORUS _like a shepherd, with a sword
drawn and a bear's head in his hand_.

MUCEDORUS. Stay, lady, stay; and be no more dismay'd; That cruel beast, most merciless and fell, Which hath bereaved thousands of their lives, Affrighted many with his hard pursues, Prying from place to place to find his prey, Prolonging thus his life by others' death, His carcase now lies headless, void of breath.

AMADINE. That foul, deformed monster, is he dead?

MUCEDORUS. Assure yourself thereof--behold his head; Which, if it please you, lady, to accept, With willing heart I yield it to your majesty.

AMADINE. Thanks, worthy shepherd, thanks a thousand times; This gift, assure thyself, contents me more Than greatest bounty of a mighty prince, Although he were the monarch of the world.

MUCEDORUS. Most gracious goddess, more than mortal wight-- Your heavenly hue of right imports no less-- Most glad am I, in that it was my chance To undertake this enterprise in hand, Which doth so greatly glad your princely mind.

AMADINE. No goddess, shepherd, but a mortal wight-- A mortal wight distressed as thou seest: My father here is King of Arragon: I, Amadine, his only daughter am, And after him sole heir unto the crown. Now, whereas it is my father's will To marry me unto Segasto, one, Whose wealth through father's former usury Is known to be no less than wonderful, We both of custom oftentimes did use, Leaving the court, to walk within the fields For recreation, especially [in] the spring, In that it yields great store of rare delights; And, passing farther than our wonted walks, Scarce ent'red were within these luckless woods. But right before us down a steep-fall hill, A monstrous ugly bear did hie him fast To meet us both--I faint to tell the rest, Good shepherd--but suppose the ghastly looks, The hideous fears, the thousand hundred woes, Which at this instant Amadine sustained.

MUCEDORUS. Yet, worthy princess, let thy sorrow cease, And let this sight your former joys revive.

AMADINE. Believe me, shepherd, so it doth no less.

MUCEDORUS. Long may they last unto your heart's content. But tell me, lady, what is become of him, Segasto call'd, what is become of him?

AMADINE. I know not, I; that know the powers divine; But God grant this, that sweet Segasto live!

MUCEDORUS. Yet hard-hearted he, in such a case, So cowardly to save himself by flight, And leave so brave a princess to the spoil.

AMADINE. Well, shepherd, for thy worthy valour tried, Endangering thyself to set me free, Unrecompensed, sure, thou shalt not be. In court thy courage shall be plainly known; Throughout the kingdom will I spread thy name. To thy renown and never-dying fame; And that thy courage may be better known, Bear thou the head of this most monstrous beast In open sight to every courtier's view. So will the king, my father, thee reward: Come, let's away and guard me to the court.

[MUCEDORUS. With all my heart.]

[_Exeunt.

Enter_ SEGASTO _solus_.

SEGASTO. When heaps of harms do hover over-head, 'Tis time as then, some say, to look about, And so [of] ensuing harms to choose the least. But hard, yea hapless, is that wretch's chance, Luckless his lot and caitiff-like accurs'd, At whose proceedings fortune ever frowns-- Myself, I mean, most subject unto thrall; For I, the more I seek to shun the worst, The more by proof I find myself accurs't. Erewhiles assaulted with an ugly bear: Fair Amadine in company all alone: Forthwith by flight I thought to save myself, Leaving my Amadine unto her shifts; For death it was for to resist the bear, And death no less of Amadine's harms to hear. Accursed I in ling'ring life thus long In living thus, each minute of an hour Doth pierce my heart with darts of thousand deaths: If she by flight her fury do escape, What will she think? Will she not say--yea, flatly to my face, Accusing me of mere disloyalty-- A trusty friend is tried in time of need; But I, when she in danger was of death, And needed me, and cried, Segasto, help! I turn'd my back, and quickly ran away, Unworthy I to bear this vital breath! But what, what needs these plaints? If Amadine do live, then happy I. She will in time forgive, and so forget. Amadine is merciful, not Juno-like, In harmful heart to harbour hatred long.

_Enter_ MOUSE _the Clown running, crying, Clubs_!

MOUSE. Clubs, prongs, pitchforks, bills! O help! A bear, a bear, a bear!

SEGASTO. Still bears, and nothing else but bears? Tell me, sirrah, where she is.

CLOWN. O sir, she is run down the woods: I see her white head and her white belly.

SEGASTO. Thou talkest of wonders, to tell me of white bears; But, sirrah, didst thou ever see any such?

CLOWN. No, faith, I never saw any such; But I remember my father's words, He bad me take heed I was not caught with a white bear.

SEGASTO. A lamentable tale, no doubt.

CLOWN. I tell you what, sir; as I was going afield to serve my father's great horse, and carried a bottle of hay upon my head--now, do you see, sir?--I, fast hoodwinked, that I could see nothing, perceiving the bear coming, I threw my hay into the hedge and ran away.

SEGASTO. What, from nothing?

CLOWN. I warrant you, yes; I saw something; for there was two load of thorns besides my bottle of hay, and that made three.

SEGASTO. But tell me, sirrah; the bear that thou didst see, Did she not bear a bucket on her arm?

CLOWN. Ha, ha, ha! I never saw bear go a-milking in all my life. But hark you, sir, I did not look so high as her arm; I saw nothing but her white head and her white belly.

SEGASTO. But tell me, sirrah, where dost thou dwell?

CLOWN. Why, do you not know me?

SEGASTO. Why, no; how should I know thee?

CLOWN. Why then you know nobody, and you know not me[170]. I tell you, sir, I am the goodman Rat's son, of the next parish over the hill.

SEGASTO. Goodman Rat's son; why, what's thy name?

CLOWN. Why, I am very near kin unto him.

SEGASTO. I think so; but what's thy name.

CLOWN. My name? I have [a] very pretty name; I'll tell you what my name is--my name is Mouse.

SEGASTO. What, plain Mouse?

CLOWN. Ay, plain Mouse, without either welt or gard. But do you hear, sir, I am but a very young Mouse, For my tail is scarce grown out yet. Look you here else.

SEGASTO. But I pray thee, who gave thee that name?

CLOWN. Faith, sir, I know not that; but if you would fain know, ask my father's great horse, for he hath been half a year longer with my father than I have.

SEGASTO. This seems to be a merry fellow; I care not if I take him home with me. Mirth is a comfort to a troubled mind, A merry man a merry master makes. [_Aside_. How say'st thou, sirrah? wilt thou dwell with me?

CLOWN. Nay, soft, sir, two words to a bargain; pray you, what occupation are you?

SEGASTO. No occupation; I live upon my lands.

CLOWN. Your lands; away, you are no master for me. Why, do you think that I am so mad, to go seek my living in the lands amongst the stones, briars and bushes, and tear my holiday apparel? Not I, by your leave.

SEGASTO. Why, I do not mean thou shalt.

CLOWN. How then?

SEGASTO. Why, thou shalt be my man, and wait upon me at the court.

CLOWN. What's that?

SEGASTO. Where the king lies.

CLOWN. What's that same king--a man or a woman?

SEGASTO. A man, as thou art.

CLOWN. As I am? Hark you, sir; pray you, what kin is he to goodman King of our parish, the churchwarden?

SEGASTO. No kin to him; he is the king of the whole land.

CLOWN. King of the land? I never see him.

SEGASTO. If thou wilt dwell with me, thou shalt see him every day.

CLOWN. Shall I go home again to be torn in pieces with bears? No, not I; I will go home and put on a clean shirt, and then go drown myself.

SEGASTO. Thou shalt not need, if thou wilt dwell with me; thou shalt want nothing.

CLOWN. Shall I not? Then here's my hand: I'll dwell with you. And hark you, sir! now you have entertained me, I will tell you what I can do. I can keep my tongue from picking and stealing, and my hands from lying and slandering, I warrant you, as well as ever you had man, in all your life.

SEGASTO. Now will I to court with sorrowful heart, rounded with doubts. If Amadine do live, then happy I: yea, happy I, if Amadine do live!

[_Exeunt.

Enter the_ KING, _with a young Prince prisoner_,
AMADINE[171], _with_ COLLEN _and Councillors_.

KING. Now, brave lords, [that] our wars are brought to end; Our foes [have had] the foil, and we in safety rest, It us behoves to use such clemency In peace, as valour in the wars. It is As great honour to be bountiful At home, as to be conquerors in the field. Therefore, my lords, the more to my content, Your liking, and your country's safeguard, We are dispos'd in marriage for to give Our daughter to Lord Segasto here, Who shall succeed the diadem after me, And reign hereafter as I tofore have done, Your sole and lawful King of Arragon: What say you, lordings, like you of my advice?

COLLEN. An't please your majesty, we do not only allow of your highness's pleasure, but also vow faithfully in what we may to further it.

KING. Thanks, good my lords, if long Adrostus live, He will at full requite your courtesies. Tremelio, in recompense of thy late valour done, Take unto thee the Catalonian prince[172], Lately our prisoner taken in the wars. Be thou his keeper; his ransom shall be thine; We'll think of it, when leisure shall afford. Meanwhile, do use him well; his father is a king.

TREMELIO. Thanks to your majesty, his usage shall be such As he thereat shall think no cause to grutch.

[_Exeunt_ TREMELIO _and Prince_.

KING. Then march we on to court, and rest our wearied limbs. But, Collen, I have a tale in secret kept for thee: When thou shalt hear a watchword from thy king, Think then some weighty matter is at hand, That highly shall concern our state, Then, Collen, look thou be not far from me: And for thy service thou tofore hast done, Thy truth and valour prov'd in every point, I shall with bounties thee enlarge therefore: So guard us to the court.

COLLEN. What so my sovereign doth command me do, With willing mind I gladly yield consent.

[_Exeunt.

Enter_ SEGASTO _and the_ CLOWN, _with weapons about him_.

SEGASTO. Tell me, sirrah, how do you like your weapons?

CLOWN. O, very well, very well; they keep my sides warm.

SEGASTO. They keep the dogs from your shins very well, do they not?

CLOWN. How, keep the dogs from my shins? I would scorn but my shins could keep the dogs from them.

SEGASTO. Well, sirrah, leaving idle talk, tell me, Dost thou know Captain Tremelio's chamber?

CLOWN. Ay, very well, it hath a door.

SEGASTO. I think so; for so hath every chamber. But dost thou know the man?

CLOWN. Ay forsooth, he hath a nose on his face.

SEGASTO. Why, so hath every one.

CLOWN. That's more than I know.

SEGASTO. But dost thou remember the Captain, that was here with the King even now, that brought the young prince prisoner?

CLOWN. O, very well.

SEGASTO. Go unto him, and bid him come to me. Tell him I have a matter in secret to impart to him.

CLOWN. I will, master; master, what's his name?

SEGASTO. Why, Captain Tremelio.

CLOWN. O, the meal-man. I know him very well. He brings meal every Saturday; but hark you, master, must I bid him come to you, or must you come to him?

SEGASTO. No, sirrah, he must come to me.

CLOWN. Hark you, master; how, if he be not at home? What shall I do then?

SEGASTO. Why then, leave word with some of his folks.

CLOWN. How,[173] master, if there be nobody within? I will leave word with his dog.

SEGASTO. Why, can his dog speak?

CLOWN. I cannot tell; wherefore doth he keep his chamber else?

SEGASTO. To keep out such knaves as thou art.

CLOWN. Nay, by'r Lady, then go yourself.

SEGASTO. You will go, sir, will ye not?

CLOWN. Yes, marry, will I. O, 'tis come to my head; And a' be not within, I'll bring his chamber to you.

SEGASTO. What, wilt thou pluck down the King's house?

CLOWN. Nay, by'r Lady, I'll know the price of it first. Master, it is such a hard name, I have forgotten it again. I pray you, tell me his name.

SEGASTO. I tell thee, Captain Tremelio.

CLOWN. O, Captain Treble-knave, Captain Treble-knave.

_Enter_ TREMELIO.

TREMELIO. How now, sirrah, dost thou call me?

CLOWN. You must come to my master, Captain Treble-knave.

TREMELIO. My Lord Segasto, did you send for me?

SEGASTO. I did, Tremelio. Sirrah, about your business.

CLOWN. Ay, marry, what's that, can you tell?

SEGASTO. No, not well.

CLOWN. Marry, then, I can; straight to the kitchen-dresser, to John the cook, and get me a good piece of beef and brewis; and then to the buttery-hatch, to Thomas the butler for a jack of beer, and there for an hour I'll so belabour myself; and therefore I pray you call me not till you think I have done, I pray you, good master.

SEGASTO. Well, sir, away. [_Exit_ MOUSE. Tremelio, this it is. Thou knowest the valour of Segasto, Spread through all the kingdom of Arragon, And such as hath found triumph and favours, Never daunted at any time? But now a shepherd [Is] admired at in court for worthiness, And Segasto's honour [is] laid aside. My will therefore is this, that thou dost find Some means to work the shepherd's death; I know Thy strength sufficient to perform my desire, and thy love no otherwise than to revenge my injuries.

TREMELIO. It is not the frowns of a shepherd that Tremelio fears, Therefore account it accomplished, what I take in hand.

SEGASTO. Thanks, good Tremelio, and assure thyself, What I promise that will I perform.

TREMELIO. Thanks, my good lord, and in good time see where He cometh. Stand by awhile, and you shall see Me put in practice your intended drifts. Have at thee, swain, if that I hit thee right!

_Enter_ MUCEDORUS.

MUCEDORUS. Vile coward, so without cause to strike a man--Turn, coward, turn; now strike, and do thy worst. [MUCEDORUS _killeth him_.

SEGASTO. Hold, shepherd, hold; spare him, kill him not. Accursed villain, tell me, what hast thou done? Ah, Tremelio, trusty Tremelio! I sorrow for thy death, and since that thou Living didst prove faithful to Segasto, So Segasto now living shall honour the dead corpse Of Tremelio with revenge. Bloodthirsty villain, Born and bred to merciless murther, tell me How durst thou be so bold, as once to lay Thy hands upon the least of mine? Assure thyself Thou shalt be us'd according to the law.

MUCEDORUS. Segasto, cease; these threats are needless. But in mine own defence accuse not me Of murther that have done nothing.

SEGASTO. Nay, shepherd, reason not with me; I'll manifest the fact unto the King, Whose doom will be thy death, as thou deserv'st. What ho, Mouse, come away!

_Enter_ MOUSE.

CLOWN. Why, how now, what's the matter? I thought you would be calling before I had done.

SEGASTO. Come, help, away with my friend.

CLOWN. Why, is he drunk? cannot he stand on his feet?

SEGASTO. No, he is not drunk; he is slain.

CLOWN. Flain! no, by['r] Lady, he is not flain.

SEGASTO. He's killed, I tell thee.

CLOWN. What, do you use to kill your friends? I will serve you no longer.

SEGASTO. I tell thee the shepherd kill'd him.

CLOWN. O, did a so? But, master, I will have all his apparel If I carry him away.

SEGASTO. Why, so thou shalt.

CLOWN. Come, then, I will help; mass, master, I think His mother sang _looby_ to him, he is so heavy.

[_Exeunt_.

MUCEDORUS. Behold the fickle state of man, always mutable; Never at one. Sometimes we feed on fancies With the sweet of our desires: sometimes again We feel the heat of extreme miseries. Now am I in favour about the court and country, To-morrow those favours will turn to frowns, To-day I live revenged on my foe, To-morrow I die, my foe revenged on me. [_Exit.

Enter_ BREMO, _a wild man_.

BREMO. No passenger this morning? what, not one? A chance that seldom doth befall. What, not one? then lie thou there, And rest thyself, till I have further need. [_Lays down his club_. Now, Bremo, sith thy leisure so affords, An endless thing. Who knows not Bremo's strength, Who like a king commands within these woods. The bear, the boar, dares not abide my sight, But hastes away to save themselves by flight. The crystal waters in the bubbling brooks, When I come by, doth swiftly slide away, And claps themselves in closets under banks, Afraid to look bold Bremo in the face: The aged oaks at Bremo's breath do bow, And all things else are still at my command, Else what would I? Rend them in pieces, and pluck them from the earth, And each way else I would revenge myself. Why, who comes here, with whom I dare not fight? Who fights with me, and doth not die the death? Not one. What favour shows this sturdy stick to those, that here Within these woods are combatants with me? Why, death, and nothing else but present death. With restless rage I wander through these woods; No creature here but feareth Bremo's force, Man, woman, child; beast and bird, And everything that doth approach my sight, Are forc'd to fall, if Bremo once do frown. Come, cudgel, come, my partner in my spoils, For here I see this day it will not be. But when it falls, that I encounter any, One pat sufficeth for to work my will. What, comes not one? Then let's begone; A time will serve, when we shall better speed. [_Exit.

Enter the_ KING, SEGASTO, _the_ SHEPHERD, _and the_
CLOWN, _with others_.

KING. Shepherd, Thou hast heard thine accusers. Murther Is laid to thy charge; what canst thou say? Thou hast deserved death.

MUCEDORUS. Dread sovereign, I must needs confess I slew this captain in mine own defence, Not of any malice, but by chance; But mine accuser hath a further meaning.