Chapter XXI: Epilogue: Spoken by Julio (4)

SEGASTO. Words will not here prevail, I seek for justice, and justice craves his death.

KING. Shepherd, thine own confession hath condemned thee. Sirrah, take him away, and do him to execution straight.

CLOWN. So he shall, I warrant him. But do you hear, Master King, he is kin to a monkey; his neck is bigger than his head.

SEGASTO. Sirrah, away with him, and hang him about the middle.

CLOWN. Yes, forsooth, I warrant you. Come on, sir, a so like a sheep-biter a looks.

_Enter_ AMADINE, _and a boy with a bear's head_.

AMADINE. Dread sovereign and well-beloved sire, On benden knees I crave the life of this Condemn'd shepherd, which heretofore preserved The life of thy sometime distressed daughter.

KING. Preserved the life of my sometime distressed daughter? How can that be? I never knew the time, Wherein thou wast distress'd. I never knew the day But that I have maintained thy estate, As best beseem'd the daughter of a king: I never saw the shepherd until now. How comes it then, that he preserv'd thy life?

AMADINE. Once walking with Segasto in the woods, Further than our accustom'd manner was, Right before us down a steep-fall hill, A monstrous ugly bear did hie him fast To meet us both--now whether this be true, I refer it to the credit of Segasto.

SEGASTO. Most true, an't like your majesty.

KING. How then?

AMADINE. The bear, being eager to obtain his prey, Made forward to us with an open mouth, As if he meant to swallow us both at once. The sight whereof did make us both to dread, But specially your daughter Amadine, Who for I saw no succour incident, But in Segasto's valour, I grew desperate, And he most coward-like began to fly. Left me distress'd to be devour'd of him-- How say you, Segasto? is it not true?

KING. His silence verifies it to be true. What then?

AMADINE. Then I amaz'd, distressed, all alone, Did hie me fast to 'scape that ugly bear. But all in vain; for why he reached after me, And oft I hardly did[174] escape his paws, Till at the length this shepherd came, And brought to me his head. Come hither, boy; lo, here it is, Which I present unto your majesty.

KING. The slaughter of this bear deserves great fame.

SEGASTO. The slaughter of a man deserves great blame.

KING. Indeed occasion oftentimes so falls out.

SEGASTO. Tremelio in the wars, O King, preserved thee.

AMADINE. The shepherd in the woods, O King, preserved me.

SEGASTO. Tremelio fought, when many men did yield.

AMADINE. So would the shepherd, had he been in field.

CLOWN. So would my master, had he not run away. [_Aside_.

SEGASTO. Tremelio's force saved thousands from the foe.

AMADINE. The shepherd's force hath saved thousands mo.

CLOWN. Ay, shipsticks, nothing else. [_Aside_.

KING. Segasto, cease to accuse the shepherd; His worthiness deserves a recompense, All we are bound to do the shepherd good. Shepherd, whereas It was my sentence thou should'st die, So shall my sentence stand, for thou shalt die.

SEGASTO. Thanks to your majesty.

KING. But soft, Segasto, not for this offence. Long may'st thou live; and when the Sisters shall decree To cut in twain the twisted thread of life, Then let him die: for this I set him free, And for thy valour I will honour thee.

MUCEDORUS. Thanks to your majesty.

KING. Come, daughter, let us now depart To honour the worthy valour of the shepherd With our rewards.

[_Exeunt_.

CLOWN. O master, hear you; you have made a fresh hand now; you would be slow, you. Why, what will you do now? You have lost me a good occupation by this means. Faith, master, now I cannot hang the shepherd. I pray you, let me take the pains to hang you: it is but half an hour's exercise.

SEGASTO. You are still in your knavery; but, sith I cannot have his life, I will procure his banishment for ever. Come on, sirrah.

CLOWN. Yes, forsooth, I come. Laugh at him, I pray you.

[_Exeunt.

Enter_ MUCEDORUS _solus_.

MUCEDORUS. From Amadine, and from her father's court, With gold and silver, and with rich rewards Flowing from the banks of golden treasuries. More may I boast, and say, but I, Was never shepherd in such dignity.

_Enter the_ MESSENGER _and the_ CLOWN.

MESSENGER. All hail, worthy shepherd!

CLOWN. All rain, lousy shepherd!

MUCEDORUS. Welcome, my friends, from whence come you?

MESSENGER. The King and Amadine greet thee well, And after greetings done, bids thee depart the court Shepherd, begone.

CLOWN. Shepherd, take law legs; fly away, shepherd.

MUCEDORUS. Whose words are these? Come these from Amadine?

MESSENGER. Ay, from Amadine.

CLOWN. Ay, from Amadine.

MUCEDORUS. Ah! luckless fortune, worse than Phaeton's tale, My former bliss is now become my bale.

CLOWN. What, wilt thou poison thyself?

MUCEDORUS. My former heaven is now become my hell.

CLOWN. The worst alehouse That I ever came in in all my life.

MUCEDORUS. What shall I do?

CLOWN. Even go hang thyself half an hour.

MUCEDORUS. Can Amadine so churlishly command, To banish the shepherd from her father's court?

MESSENGER. What should shepherds do in the court?

CLOWN. What should shepherds do among us? Have we not lords enough o'er[175] us in the court?

MUCEDORUS. Why, shepherds are men, and kings are no more.

MESSENGER. Shepherds are men, and masters over their flock.

CLOWN. That's a lie; who pays them their wages, then?

MESSENGER. Well, you are always interrupting of me, But you are best look to him, Lest you hang for him, when he is gone. [_Exit.

The_ CLOWN _sings_.

CLOWN. _And you shall hang for company,
For leaving me alone_.

Shepherd, stand forth, and hear thy sentence. Shepherd, begone within three days, in pain of My displeasure; shepherd, begone; shepherd, begone, Begone, begone, begone; shepherd, shepherd, shepherd. [_Exit_.

MUCEDORUS. And must I go, and must I needs depart? Ye goodly groves, partakers of my songs, In time tofore, when fortune did not frown, Pour forth your plaints, and wail awhile with me. And thou bright sun, my comfort in the cold, Hide, hide thy face, and leave me comfortless. Ye wholesome herbs and sweet-smelling savours-- Yea, each thing else prolonging life of man-- Change, change your wonted course, that I, Wanting your aid, in woful sort may die.

_Enter_ AMADINE [_and_ ARIENA, _her maid_.]

AMADINE. Ariena, if anybody ask for me, Make some excuse, till I return.

ARIENA. What, and Segasto call?

AMADINE. Do thou the like to him? I mean not to stay long.
[_Exit_.

MUCEDORUS. This voice so sweet my pining spirits revives.

AMADINE. Shepherd, well-met; tell me how thou doest.

MUCEDORUS. I linger life, yet wish for speedy death.

AMADINE. Shepherd, although thy banishment Already be decreed, and all against my will, Yet Amadine----

MUCEDORUS. Ah, Amadine! to hear Of banishment is death--ay, double death to me; But since I must depart, one thing I crave.

AMADINE. Say on, with all my heart.

MUCEDORUS. That in absence either far or near, You honour me as servant with your name.

AMADINE. Not so.

MUCEDORUS. And why?

AMADINE. I honour thee as sovereign of my heart.

MUCEDORUS. A shepherd and a sovereign nothing like.

AMADINE. Yet like enough, where there is no dislike.

MUCEDORUS. Yet great dislike, or else no banishment.

AMADINE. Shepherd, it is only Segasto that Procures thy banishment.

MUCEDORUS. Unworthy wights are most in jealousy.

AMADINE. Would God they would Free thee from banishment, or likewise banish me.

MUCEDORUS. Amen say I, to have your company.

AMADINE. Well, shepherd, sith thou sufferest This for my sake, With thee in exile also let me live, On this condition, shepherd, thou canst love.

MUCEDORUS. No longer love, no longer let me live.

AMADINE. Of late I loved one indeed, now love I none but only thee.

MUCEDORUS. Thanks, worthy princess: I burn likewise, yet smother up the blast, I dare not promise what I may perform.

AMADINE. Well, shepherd, hark what I shall say, I will return unto my father's court, There[176] to provide me of such necessaries As for my journey I shall think most fit. This being done, I will return to thee. Do thou Therefore appoint the place, where we may meet.

MUCEDORUS. Down in the valley where I slew the bear; And there doth grow a fair broad branchèd beech, That overshades a well: so who comes first, Let them abide the happy meeting of Us both. How like you this?

AMADINE. I like it very well.

MUCEDORUS. Now, if you please, you may appoint the time.

AMADINE. Full three hours hence, God willing, I will return.

MUCEDORUS. The thanks that Paris gave the Grecian queen, The like doth Mucedorus yield.

AMADINE. Then, Mucedorus, for three hours, farewell.
[_Exit_.

MUCEDORUS. Your departure, lady, breeds a privy pain.
[_Exit.

Enter_ SEGASTO _solus_.

SEGASTO. 'Tis well, Segasto, that thou hast thy will. Should such a shepherd, such a simple swain, As he eclipse thy credit, famous through The court? No, ply, Segasto, ply; Let it not in Arragon be said, A shepherd hath Segasto's honour won.

_Enter_ MOUSE, _the Clown, calling his master_.

CLOWN. What ho! master, will you come away?

SEGASTO. Will you come hither, I pray you, what's the matter?

CLOWN. Why, is it not past eleven o'clock?

SEGASTO. How then, sir?

CLOWN. I pray you, come away to dinner.

SEGASTO. I pray you, come hither.

CLOWN. Here's such a-do with you, will you never come?

SEGASTO. I pray you, sir, what news of the message I sent you about?

CLOWN. I tell you, all the messes be on the table already-- (There wants not so much as a mess of mustard) half an hour ago.

SEGASTO. Come, sir, your mind is all upon your belly. You have forgotten what I did bid you do.

CLOWN. Faith, I know nothing, but you bad me go to breakfast.

SEGASTO. Was that all?

CLOWN. Faith, I have forgotten it, the very scent of the meat made me forget[177] it quite.

SEGASTO. You have forgotten the errand I bid you do?

CLOWN. What arrant? an arrant knave or an arrant whore?

SEGASTO. Why, thou knave, did I not bid thee banish the shepherd?

CLOWN. O, the shepherd's bastard?

SEGASTO. I tell thee, the shepherd's banishment.

CLOWN. I tell you, the shepherd's bastard shall be well kept; I'll look to it myself. But I pray you, come away to dinner.

SEGASTO. Then you will not tell me whether you have banished him, or no?

CLOWN. Why, I cannot say _banishment_, and you would give me a thousand pounds to say so.

SEGASTO. Why, you whoreson slave, have you forgotten that I sent you and another to drive away the shepherd.

CLOWN. What an ass are you; here's a stir indeed, here's message, arrant, banishment, and I cannot tell what.

SEGASTO. I pray you, sir, shall I know whether you have drove him away.

CLOWN. Faith, I think I have; and you will not believe me, ask my staff.

SEGASTO. Why, can thy staff tell?

CLOWN. Why, he was with me too.

SEGASTO. Then happy I, that have obtain'd my will.

CLOWN. And happier I, if you would go to dinner.

SEGASTO. Come, sirrah, follow me.

CLOWN. I warrant you, I will not lose an inch of you now you are going to dinner, I promise you. I thought [it] seven year, before I could get him away. [_Aside.] [Exeunt.

Enter_ AMADINE _sola_

AMADINE. God grant my long delay procures no harm, Nor this my tarrying frustrate my pretence. My Mucedorus surely stays for me, And thinks me over long. At length I come, My present promise to perform. Ah, what a thing is firm, unfeigned love! What is it which true love dares not attempt? My father he may make, but I must match; Segasto loves; but Amadine must like, Where likes her best; compulsion is a thrall. No, no, the hearty choice is all in all, The shepherd's virtue Amadine esteems. But what, methinks my shepherd is not come; I muse at that, the hour is sure at hand. Well, here I'll rest, till Mucedorus come. [_She sits her down.

Enter_ BREMO, _looking about; hastily [he] taketh hold of her_.

BREMO. A happy prey! now, Bremo, feed on flesh: Dainties, Bremo, dainties, thy hungry paunch to fill: Now glut thy greedy guts with lukewarm blood. Come, fight with me; I long to see thee dead.

AMADINE. How can she fight, that weapons cannot wield?

BREMO. What, canst not fight? Then lie thou down and die.

AMADINE. What, must I die?

BREMO. What needs these words? I thirst to suck thy blood.

AMADINE. Yet pity me, and let me live awhile.

BREMO. No pity I; I'll feed upon thy flesh, I'll tear thy body piecemeal joint from joint.

AMADINE. Ah, how I want my shepherd's company!

BREMO. I'll crush thy bones betwixt two oaken trees.

AMADINE. Haste, shepherd, haste, or else thou com'st too late.

BREMO. I'll suck the sweetness from thy marrow bones.

AMADINE. Ah, spare, ah, spare to shed my guiltless blood!

BREMO. With this my bat will I beat out Thy brains. Down, down, I say: Prostrate thyself upon the ground.

AMADINE. Then, Mucedorus, farewell, my hoped joys, farewell! Yea, farewell life, and welcome present death. [_She kneels_. To thee, O God, I yield my dying ghost.

BREMO. Now, Bremo, play thy part. How now, what sudden chance is this? My limbs do tremble, and my sinews shake; My unweak'ned arms have lost their former force. Ah, Bremo, Bremo! what a foil hast thou, That yet at no time ever wast afraid To dare the greatest gods to fight with thee, [_He strikes_. And now want strength for one down-driving blow? Ah, how my courage fails, when I should strike! Some new-come spirit abiding in my breast, Say'th, _Spare her, Bremo; spare her, do not kill_. Shall I[178] spare her, which never spared any? To it, Bremo, to it; essay[179] again. I cannot wield my weapons in my hand; Methinks I should not strike so fair a one, I think her beauty hath bewitch'd my force, Or else within me altered nature's course. Ay, woman, wilt thou live in woods with me?

AMADINE. Fain would I live, yet loth to live in woods.

BREMO. Thon shalt not choose; it shall be as I say; And therefore follow me. [_Exeunt.

Enter_ MUCEDORUS _solus_.

MUCEDORUS. It was my will an hour ago and more, As was my promise, for to make return; But other business hind'red my pretence. It is a world to see, when man appoints, And purposely one certain thing decrees, How many things may hinder his intent. What one would wish, the same is farthest off. But yet th'appointed time cannot be past, Nor hath her presence yet prevented[180] me. Well, here I'll stay, and expect the coming.

[_They cry within, Hold him, stay him, hold_!

MUCEDORUS. Some one or other is pursued, no doubt; Perhaps some search for me; 'tis good To doubt the worst, therefore I will be gone. [_Exit.

Cry within, Hold him, hold him! Enter_ MOUSE, _the
Clown, with a pot_.

CLOWN. Hold him, hold him, hold him! here's a stir indeed. Here came hue after the crier, and I was set close at mother Nip's house, and there I call'd for three pots of ale, as 'tis the manner of us courtiers. Now, sirrah, I had taken the maidenhead of two of them--now, as I was lifting up the third to my mouth, there came, Hold him, hold him! Now I could not tell whom to catch hold on; but I am sure I caught one, perchance a may be in this pot. Well, I'll see. Mass, I cannot see him yet; well, I'll look a little further. Mass, he is a little slave, if a be here; why here's nobody. All this goes well yet; but if the old trot should come for her pot?--ay, marry, there's the matter. But I care not; I'll face her out, and call her old rusty, dusty, musty, fusty, crusty firebrand, and worse than all that, and so face her out of her pot. But soft! here she comes.

_Enter the_ OLD WOMAN.

OLD WOMAN. Come on, you knave; where's my pot, you knave?

CLOWN. Go, look your pot; come not to me for your pot, 'twere good for you.

OLD WOMAN. Thou liest, thou knave; thou hast my pot.

CLOWN. You lie, and you say it. I, your pot? I know what I'll say.

OLD WOMAN, Why, what wilt thou say?

CLOWN. But say I have him, and thou dar'st.

OLD WOMAN. Why, thou knave, thou hast not only my pot, but my drink unpaid for.

CLOWN. You lie like an old--I will not say whore.

OLD WOMAN. Dost thou call me whore? I'll cap thee for my pot.

CLOWN. Cap me, and thou darest; search me, whether I have it or no.

[_She searcheth him, and he drinketh over her
head, and casts down the pot. She stumbleth
at it, then they fall together by the ears;
she takes her pot and goes out.

Enter_ SEGASTO.

SEGASTO. How now, sirrah, what's the matter?

CLOWN. O, flies, master, flies.

SEGASTO. Flies? where are they?

CLOWN. O, here, master, all about your face.

SEGASTO. Why, thou liest; I think thou art mad.

CLOWN. Why, master, I have kill'd a dungcartful at the least.

SEGASTO. Go to, sirrah. Leaving this idle talk, give ear to me.

CLOWN. How, give you one of my ears? not, and you were ten masters.

SEGASTO. Why, sir, I bad you give ear to my words.

CLOWN. I tell you, I will not be made a curtal for no man's pleasure.

SEGASTO. I tell thee, attend what I say. Go thy ways straight, and rear the whole town.

CLOWN. How, rear the town? even go yourself; it is more than I can do. Why, do you think I can rear a town, that can scarce rear a pot of ale to my head? I should rear a town, should I not!

SEGASTO. Go to the constable, and make a privy search; for the shepherd is run away with the King's daughter.

CLOWN. How? is the shepherd run away with the King's daughter, or is the King's daughter run away with the shepherd?

SEGASTO. I cannot tell; but they are both gone together.

CLOWN. What a fool she is to run away with the shepherd! Why, I think I am a little handsomer man than the shepherd myself; but tell me, master, must I make a privy search, or search in the privy?

SEGASTO. Why, dost thou think they will be there?

CLOWN. I cannot tell.

SEGASTO. Well, then, search everywhere; leave no place unsearched for them. [_Exit_.

CLOWN. O, now am I in office, now will I to that old firebrand's house, and will not leave one place unsearched. Nay, I'll to her ale-stand, and drink as long as I can stand; and when I have done, I'll let out all the rest, to see if he be not hid in the barrel. And I find him not there, I'll to the cupboard. I'll not leave one corner of her house unsearched. I'faith, ye old crust, I will be with you now. [_Exit.

[Sound music.]

Enter the_ KING OF VALENTIA, ANSELMO, RODERIGO,
LORD BORACHIUS, _with others_.

KING OF VALENTIA. Enough of music; it but adds to torment. Delights to vexed spirits are as dates Set to a sickly man, which rather cloy than comfort: Let me entreat you to entreat no more.

RODERIGO. Let yon strings sleep; have done there.

[_Let the music cease_.

KING OF VALENTIA. Mirth to a soul disturb'd is[181] embers turn'd, Which sudden gleam with molestation, But sooner lose their sight for it. 'Tis gold bestow'd upon a rioter, Which not relieves, but murders him: 'Tis a drug given to the healthful, Which infects, not cures. How can a father, that hath lost his son: A prince both wise, virtuous, and valiant, Take pleasure in the idle acts of time? No, no; till Mucedorus I shall see again, All joy is comfortless, all pleasure pain.

ANSELMO. Your son, my lord, is well.

KING OF VALENTIA. I prythee, speak that thrice.

ANSELMO. The prince, your son, is safe.

KING OF VALENTIA. O, where, Anselmo? surfeit me with that.

ANSELMO. In Arragon, my liege; and at his 'parture, [He] bound my secrecy by his affection's love, Not to disclose it. But care of him, and pity of your age, Makes my tongue blab what my breast vow'd-- Concealment.

KING OF VALENTIA. Thou not deceiv'st me? I ever thought thee What I find thee now, an upright, loyal man. But what desire or young-fed humour, nurs'd Within the brain, drew him so privately To Arragon?

ANSELMO. A forcing adamant: Love, mix'd with fear and doubtful jealousy: Whether report gilded a worthless trunk, Or Amadine deserved her high extolment.

KING OF VALENTIA. See our provision be in readiness, Collect us followers of the comeliest hue, For our chief guardians; we will thither wend. The crystal eyes of heaven shall not thrice wink, Nor the green flood six times his shoulders turn, Till we salute the Arragonian king. Music, speak loudly; now the season's apt, For former dolors are in pleasure wrapt.

[_Exeunt omnes]

Enter_ MUCEDORUS, _to disguise himself_.

MUCEDORUS. Now, Mucedorus, whither wilt thou go? Home to thy father to thy native soil, Or try some long abode within these woods? Well, I will hence depart, and hie me home. What, hie me home, said I? that may not be; In Amadine rests my felicity. Then, Mucedorus, do as thou didst decree: Attire thee hermit-like within these groves; Walk often to the beech, and view the well; Make settles there, and seat thyself thereon; And when thou feelest thyself to be athirst, Then drink a hearty draught to Amadine. No doubt, she thinks on thee, and will one day Come pledge thee at this well. Come, habit, thou art fit for me. [_He disguiseth himself_. No shepherd now: a hermit I must be. Methinks this fits me very well. Now must I learn to bear a walking-staff, And exercise some gravity withal.

_Enter the_ CLOWN.

CLOWN. Here's through the woods and through the woods, to look out a shepherd and stray king's daughter. But soft! who have we here? what art thou?

MUCEDORUS. I am an hermit.

CLOWN. An emmet? I never saw such a big emmet in all my life before.

MUCEDORUS. I tell you, sir, I am an hermit: one that leads a solitary life within these woods.

CLOWN. O, I know thee now, thou art he[182] that eats up all the hips and haws; we could not have one piece of fat bacon for thee all this year.

MUCEDORUS. Thou dost mistake me; but I pray thee, tell me what dost thou seek in these woods?

CLOWN. What do I seek? for a stray king's daughter run away with a shepherd.

MUCEDORUS. A stray king's daughter run away with a shepherd. Wherefore? canst thou tell?

CLOWN. Yes, that I can; 'tis this. My master and Amadine walking one day abroad, nearer to these woods than they were used (about what I cannot tell); but toward them comes running a great bear. Now my master he played the man, and ran away; and Amadine, crying after him;--now, sir, comes me a shepherd, and he strikes off the bear's head. Now, whether the bear were dead before or no, I cannot tell; for bring twenty bears before me, and bind their hands and feet, and I'll kill them all. Now, ever since, Amadine hath been in love with the shepherd; and for goodwill she's even run away with the shepherd.

MUCEDORUS. What manner of man was a? canst describe him unto me?

CLOWN. Scribe him? ay, I warrant you, that I can. A was a little, low, broad, tall, narrow, big, well-favoured fellow: a jerkin of white cloth, and buttons of the same cloth.

MUCEDORUS. Thou describest him well; but if I chance to see any such, pray you, where shall I find you, or what's your name?

CLOWN. My name is called Master Mouse.

MUCEDORUS. O Master Mouse, I pray you, what office might you bear in the court?

CLOWN. Marry, sir, I am a rusher of the stable.

MUCEDORUS. O, usher of the table.

CLOWN. Nay, I say rusher, and I'll prove my office good. For look, sir, when any comes from under the sea or so, and a dog chance to blow his nose backward, then with a whip I give him the good time of the day, and straw rushes presently. Therefore I am a rusher: a high office, I promise ye.

MUCEDORUS. But where shall I find you in the court?

CLOWN. Why, where it is best being, either in the kitchen a eating, or in the buttery drinking. But if you come, I will provide for thee a piece of beef and brewis knuckle-deep in fat. Pray you, take pains; remember Master Mouse. [_Exit_.

MUCEDORUS. Ay, sir, I warrant I will not forget you. Ah, Amadine! what should become of thee? Whither shouldst thou go so long unknown? With watch and ward each passage is beset, Doubtless she hath lost herself within these woods, And wand'ring to and fro she seeks the well, Which yet she cannot find; Therefore will I seek her out. [_Exit.

Enter_ BREMO _and_ AMADINE.

BREMO. Amadine! How like you Bremo and his woods?

AMADINE. As like the woods of Bremo's cruelty. Though I were dumb, and could not answer him, The beasts themselves would with relenting tears Bewail thy savage and unhuman deeds.

BREMO. My love, why dost thou murmur to thyself? Speak louder, for thy Bremo hears thee not.

AMADINE. My Bremo? no, the shepherd is my love.

BREMO. Have I not saved thee from sudden death, Giving thee leave to live, that thou might'st love? And dost thou whet me on to cruelty? Come, kiss me (sweet) for all my favours past.

AMADINE. I may not, Bremo, and therefore pardon me.

BREMO. See how she flings away from me; I will follow and give a rend[183] to her. [_Aside_. Deny my love; ah, worm of beauty! I will chastise thee; come, come, Prepare thy head upon the block.

AMADINE. O, spare me, Bremo! love should limit life, Not to be made a murderer of himself. If thou wilt glut thy loving heart with blood, Encounter with the lion or the bear, And (like a wolf) prey not upon a lamb.

BREMO. Why, then, dost thou repine at me? If thou wilt love me, thou shalt be my queen; I will crown thee with a complet made of ivory, And make the rose and lily wait on thee. I'll rend the burly branches from the oak,[184] To shadow thee from burning sun: The trees shall spread themselves where thou dost go; And as they spread, I'll trace along with thee.

AMADINE. You may; for who but you? [_Aside_.

BREMO. Thou shalt be fed with quails and partridges, With blackbirds, larks, thrushes, and nightingales. Thy drink shall be goats' milk and crystal water, Distill'd from the fountains and the clearest springs, And all the dainties that the woods afford I'll freely give thee to obtain thy love.

AMADINE. You may; for who but you? [_Aside_.

BREMO. The day I'll spend to recreate my love, With all the pleasures that I can devise, And in the night I'll be thy bed-fellow, And lovingly embrace thee in mine arms.

AMADINE. One may; so may not you. [_Aside_.

BREMO. The satyrs and the wood-nymphs shall attend On thee, and lull thee asleep with music's sound, And in the morning, when thou dost awake, The lark shall sing good morrow to my queen, And whilst he sings, I'll kiss my Amadine.

AMADINE. You may; for who but you? [_Aside_.

BREMO. When thou art up, the wood-lanes shall be strawed With violets, cowslips, and sweet marigolds, For thee to trample and to trace upon; And I will teach thee how to kill the deer, To chase the hart, and how to rouse the roe, If thou wilt live to love and honour me.

AMADINE. You may; for who but you?

_Enter_ MUCEDORUS.

BREMO. Welcome, sir, an hour ago I look'd for such a guest. Be merry, wench, we'll have a frolic feast, Here's flesh enough for to suffice us both, Say, sirrah, wilt thou fight, or dost thou yield to die?

MUCEDORUS. I want a weapon; how can I fight?

BREMO. Thou want'st a weapon? why, then thou yield'st to die.

MUCEDORUS. I say not so; I do not yield to die.

BREMO. Thou shalt not choose; I long to see thee dead.

AMADINE. Yet spare him, Bremo, spare him.

BREMO. Away, I say, I will not spare him.

MUCEDORUS. Yet give me leave to speak.

BREMO. Thou shalt not speak.

AMADINE. Yet give him leave to speak for my sake.

BREMO. Speak on; but be not over-long.

MUCEDORUS. In time of yore, when men (like brutish beasts) Did lead their lives in loathsome cells and woods, And wholly gave themselves to witless will (A rude, unruly rout), then man to man became A present prey: then might prevailed: The weakest went to wall, Right was unknown; for wrong was all in all. As men thus lived in this[185] great outrage, Behold, one Orpheus came (as poets tell), And them from rudeness unto reason brought: Who led by reason, some forsook the woods; Instead of caves, they built them castles strong; Cities and towns were founded by them then. Glad were they, [that] they found such ease, And in the end they grew to perfect amity. Weighing their former wickedness, They term'd the time, wherein they lived then A golden age, a goodly golden age. Now, Bremo, for so I hear thee called, If men which lived tofore, as thou dost now, Wildly[186] in wood, addicted all to spoil, Returned were by worthy Orpheus' means, Let me (like Orpheus) cause thee to return From murder, bloodshed, and like cruelty. What, should we fight before we have a cause? No, let us live and love together faithfully-- I'll fight for thee--

BREMO. Fight for me or die? Or fight, or else thou diest?

AMADINE. Hold, Bremo, hold!

BREMO. Away, I say; thou troublest me.

AMADINE. You promised me to make me your queen.

BREMO. I did; I mean no less.

AMADINE. You promised that I should have my will.

BREMO. I did; I mean no less.

AMADINE. Then save this hermit's life; for he may save us both.

BREMO. At thy request I'll spare him, But never any after him. Say, hermit, What canst thou do?

MUCEDORUS. I'll wait on thee; sometime upon thy queen. Such service shalt thou shortly have as Bremo never had.

[_Exeunt.

Enter_ SEGASTO, _the_ CLOWN, _and_ RUMBELO.

SEGASTO. Come, sirs; what, shall I never have you Find out Amadine and the shepherd.

CLOWN. And I have been through the woods, and through the woods, And could see nothing but an emmet.

RUMBELO. Why, I see a thousand emmets; thou meanest a little one?

CLOWN. Nay, that emmet that I saw was bigger than thou art.

RUMBELO. Bigger than I? what a fool have you to your man? I pray you, master, turn him away.

SEGASTO. But dost thou hear, was he not a man?

CLOWN. I think he was, for he said he did lead a salt-seller's life about the woods.

SEGASTO. Thou wouldest say, a solitary life about the woods?

CLOWN. I think it was so indeed.

RUMBELO. I thought what a fool thou art.

CLOWN. Thou art a wise man; why, he did nothing but sleep since he went.

SEGASTO. But tell me, Mouse, how did he go?

CLOWN. In a white gown, and a white hat on his head, and a staff in his hand.

SEGASTO. I thought so; it was a hermit that walked a solitary life in the woods. Well, get you to dinner; and after never leave seeking, till you bring some news of them, or I'll hang you both. [_Exit_.

CLOWN. How now, Rumbelo, what shall we do now?

RUMBELO. Faith, I'll home to dinner, and afterward to sleep.

CLOWN. Why, then thou wilt be hanged.

RUMBELO. Faith, I care not; for I know I shall never find them. Well, I'll once more abroad, and if I cannot find them, I'll never come home again.

CLOWN. I tell thee what, Rumbelo; thou shalt go in at one end of the wood, and I at the other, and we will meet both together in the midst.

RUMBELO. Content; let's away to dinner.
[_Exeunt.

Enter_ MUCEDORUS _solus_.

MUCEDORUS. Unknown to any here within these woods, With bloody Bremo do I lead my life. The monster he doth murther all he meets; He spareth none, and none doth him escape. Who would continue--who, but only I-- In such a cruel cutthroat's company? Yet Amadine is there; how can I choose? Ah, silly soul! how oftentimes she sits And sighs, and calls, _Come, shepherd, come; Sweet Mucedorus, come and set me free_, When Mucedorus present stands her by! But here she comes.

_Enter_ AMADINE.

What news, fair lady, as you walk these woods?

AMADINE. Ah, hermit! none but bad, and such As thou knowest.

MUCEDORUS. How do you like Your Bremo and his woods?

AMADINE. Not my Bremo, Nor Bremo's[187] woods.

MUCEDORUS. And why not yours? Methinks he loves you well.

AMADINE. I like him not. His love to me is nothing worth.

MUCEDORUS. Lady, in this (methinks) you offer wrong, To hate the man that ever loves you best.

AMADINE. Hermit,[188] I take no pleasure in his love, Neither doth Bremo like me best.

MUCEDORUS. Pardon my boldness, lady,[189] sith we both May safely talk now out of Bremo's sight. Unfold To me (if so you please) the full discourse, How, when, and why you came into these woods, And fell into this bloody butcher's hands.

AMADINE. Hermit, I will; Of late a worthy shepherd I did love--

MUCEDORUS. A shepherd, lady? Sure, a man unfit To match with you!

AMADINE. Hermit, 'tis[190] true; and when we had--

MUCEDORUS. Stay there, the wild man comes; Refer the rest until another time.

_Enter_ BREMO.

BREMO. What secret tale is this, what whispering have we here? Villain, I charge thee tell thy tale again.

MUCEDORUS. If needs I must, lo! here it is again: When as we both had lost the sight of thee, It griev'd us both, but specially the queen. Who in thy absence ever fears the worst, Lest some mischance befall your royal grace. Shall my sweet Bremo wander through the woods: Toil to and fro for to redress my wants: Hazard his life, and all to cherish me? I like not this, quoth she. And thereupon [she] crav'd to know of me, If I could teach her handle weapons well. My answer was, I had small skill therein, But glad, most mighty king, to learn of thee. And this was all.

BREMO. Was't so? None can dislike of this. I'll teach You both to fight. But first, my queen, begin: Here, take this weapon; see how thou canst use it.

AMADINE. This is too big; I cannot wield it in my arm.

BREMO. Is't so, we'll have a knotty crabtree staff for thee: But, sirrah, tell me, what say'st thou?

MUCEDORUS. With all my heart I willing am to learn.

BREMO. Then take my staff, and see how thou canst wield it.

MUCEDORUS. First teach me how to hold it in my hand.

BREMO. Thou hold'st it well. [To _Amadine_.] Look how he doth; Thou mayest the sooner learn.

MUCEDORUS. Next tell me how and when 'tis best to strike.

BREMO. 'Tis best to strike when time doth serve, 'Tis best to lose no time.

MUCEDORUS. Then now or never is my time to strike.

BREMO. And when thou strikest, be sure to hit the head.

MUCEDORUS. The head?

BREMO. The very head.

MUCEDORUS. Then have at thine, So lie there and die; [_He strikes him down dead_. A death, no doubt, according to desert, Or else a worse, as thou deservest a worse.

AMADINE. It glads my heart this tyrant's death to see.

MUCEDORUS. Now, lady, it remains in you To end the tale you lately had begun, Being interrupted by this wicked wight-- You said you loved a shepherd?

AMADINE. Ay, so I do, and none but only him; And will do still, as long as life shall last.

MUCEDORUS. But tell me, lady, sith I set you free, What course of life do you intend to take?

AMADINE. I will (disguised) wander through the world Till I have found him out.

MUCEDORUS. How, if you find your shepherd in these woods?

AMADINE. Ah! none so happy then as Amadine.[191]

MUCEDORUS. In tract of time a man may alter much: Say, lady, do you know your shepherd well? [_He discovers himself_.

AMADINE. My Mucedorus, hath he set me free?

MUCEDORUS. He hath set thee free.

AMADINE. And lived so long Unknown to Amadine?

MUCEDORUS. Ay, that's a question Whereof you may not be resolved. You know that I am banish'd from the court, I know likewise each passage is beset, So that we cannot long escape unknown, Therefore my will is this, that we return, Right through the thickets, to the wild man's cave, And there a while live on his provision, Until the search and narrow watch be past: This is my counsel, and I think it best.

AMADINE. I think the very same.

MUCEDORUS. Come, let's begone.

_Enter the_ CLOWN, _who searches and falls over the
wild man, and so carries him away_.

CLOWN. Nay, soft, sir, are you here? a bots on you! I was like to be hanged for not finding you, We would borrow a certain stray king's daughter of you; A wench, a wench, sir, we would have.

MUCEDORUS. A wench of me? I'll make thee eat my sword.

CLOWN. O Lord, nay, and you are so lusty, I'll call a cooling card for you: Ho, master, master, come away quickly!

_Enter_ SEGASTO.

SEGASTO. What's the matter?

CLOWN. Look, master, Amadine and the shepherd! O brave!

SEGASTO. What, minion, have I found you out?

CLOWN. Nay, that's a lie, I found her out myself.

SEGASTO. Thou gadding huswife, What cause hadst thou to gad abroad, When as thou knowest our wedding-day so nigh?

AMADINE. Not so, Segasto; no such thing in hand. Show your assurance, then I'll answer you?

SEGASTO. Thy father's promise my assurance is.

AMADINE. But what he promis'd he hath not perform'd.

SEGASTO. It rests in thee to perform the same.

AMADINE. Not I.

SEGASTO. And why?

AMADINE. So is my will, and therefore even so.

CLOWN. Master, with a nonny, nonny, no.[192]

SEGASTO. Ah, wicked villain! art thou here?

MUCEDORUS. What needs these words? we weigh them not.

SEGASTO. We weigh them not! proud shepherd, I scorn thy company.

CLOWN. We'll not have a corner of thy company.

MUCEDORUS. I scorn not thee, nor yet the least of thine.

CLOWN. That's a lie, a would have kill'd me with his pugs-nando.

SEGASTO. This stoutness, Amadine, contents me not.

AMADINE. Then seek another, that may you better please.

MUCEDORUS. Well, Amadine. it only rests in thee Without delay to make thy choice of three. There stands Segasto: here a shepherd stands: There stands the third. Now make thy choice.

CLOWN. A lord at the least I am.

AMADINE. My choice is made; for I will none but thee.

SEGASTO. A worthy mate, no doubt, for such a wife.

MUCEDORUS. And, Amadine, why wilt thou none but me? I cannot keep thee, as thy father did; I have no lands for to maintain thy state; Moreover, if thou mean to be my wife, Commonly this must be thy use: To bed at midnight, up at four, Drudge all day, and trudge from place to place, Whereby our daily victuals for to win: And last of all, which is the worst of all, No princess then, but a plain shepherd's wife.

CLOWN. Then God gi' you good morrow, goody shepherd! [_Aside_.

AMADINE. It shall not need; if Amadine do live, Thou shalt be crowned King of Arragon.

CLOWN. O master, laugh; when he's king, then I'll be a queen. [_Aside_.

MUCEDORUS. Then know that, which never tofore was known, I am no shepherd, no Arragonian I, But born of royal blood. My father's of Valentia King, my mother Queen: who, for thy secret[193] sake, Took this hard task in hand.

AMADINE. Ah, how I joy my fortune is so good!

SEGASTO. Well, now I see Segasto shall not speed; But, Mucedorus, I as much do joy To see thee here within our Court of Arragon, As if a kingdom had befallen me this time. I with my heart surrender her to thee. [_He giveth her unto him_. And loose[194] what right to Amadine I have.

CLOWN. What, [a] barn's door, and born where my father Was constable. A bots on thee! how dost thee? [_Aside_.

MUCEDORUS. Thanks, Segasto; but yet you levell'd at the crown.

CLOWN. Master, bear this and bear all.

SEGASTO. Why so, sir?

CLOWN. He sees you take a goose by the crown.

SEGASTO. Go to, sir, away, post you to the King, Whose heart is fraught with careful doubts; Glad him up, and tell him these good news, And we will follow as fast as we may.

CLOWN. I go, master; I run, master.

[_Exeunt severally.

Enter the_ KING _and_ COLLEN.

KING. Break, heart, and end my pallid[195] woes! My Amadine, the comfort of my life, How can I joy, except she were in sight? Her absence breedeth sorrow to my soul, And with a thunder breaks my heart in twain.

COLLEN. Forbear those passions, gentle King, And you shall see 'twill turn unto the best, And bring your soul to quiet and to joy.

KING. Such joy as death, I do assure me that, And nought but death, unless of her I hear, And that with speed; I cannot sigh thus long-- But what a tumult do I hear within?

[_They cry within, Joy and happiness_!

COLLEN. I hear a noise of overpassing joy Within the court. My lord, be of good comfort. And here comes one in haste.

_Enter the_ CLOWN, _running_.

CLOWN. A King, a king, a king!

COLLEN. Why, how now, sirrah? what's the matter?

CLOWN. O, 'tis news for a king; 'tis worth money.

KING. Why, sirrah, thou shalt have silver and gold, if it be good.

CLOWN. O, 'tis good, 'tis good. Amadine--

KING. O, what of her? tell me, and I will make thee a knight.

CLOWN. How, a sprite? no, by Lady, I will not be a sprite, masters. Get ye away; if I be a sprite, I shall be so lean, I shall make you all afraid.

COLLEN. Thou sot, the King means to make thee a gentleman.

CLOWN. Why, I shall want 'pparel.

KING. Thou shalt want for nothing.

CLOWN. Then stand away; trick[196] up thyself; here they come.

_Enter_ SEGASTO, MUCEDORUS, _and_ AMADINE.

AMADINE. My gracious father, pardon thy disloyal daughter.

KING. What, do mine eyes behold my daughter Amadin? Rise up, dear daughter, And let these my embracing arms show some Token of thy father's joy, which, ever since Thy departure, hath languished in sorrow.

AMADINE. Dear father, Never were your sorrows greater than my griefs: Never you so desolate as I comfortless. Yet, nevertheless, acknowledging myself To be the cause of both, on bended knees I humbly crave your pardon.

KING. I'll pardon thee, dear daughter, but as for Him----

AMADINE. Ah, father! what of him?

KING. As sure as I am king, and wear the crown, I will revenge on that accursed wretch.

MUCEDORUS. Yet, worthy prince, work not thy will in wrath: Show favour.

KING. Ay, such favour as thou deservest.

MUCEDORUS. I do deserve the daughter of a king.

KING. O, impudent! a shepherd and so insolent?

MUCEDORUS. No shepherd [am] I, but a worthy prince.

KING. In fair conceit, not princely born.

MUCEDORUS. Yes, princely born; my father is a king, My mother queen, and of Valentia both.

KING. What, Mucedorus? welcome to our court! What cause hadst thou to come to me disguis'd?

MUCEDORUS. No cause to fear; I caused no offence, But this--desiring thy daughter's virtues for to see, Disguis'd myself from out my father's court, Unknown to any. In secret I did rest, And passed many troubles near to death; So hath your daughter my partaker been, As you shall know hereafter more at large, Desiring you, you will give her to me, Even as mine own, and sovereign of my life, Then shall I think my travels are well spent.

KING. With all my heart, but this-- Segasto claims my promise made tofore, That he should have her as his only wife, Before my council, when we came from war. Segasto, may I crave thee let it pass, And give Amadine as wife to Mucedorus.

SEGASTO. With all my heart, were it a far greater thing, And what I may to furnish up their rites, With pleasing sports and pastimes you shall see.

KING. Thanks, good Segasto; I will think of this.

MUCEDORUS. Thanks, good my lord; and while I live, Account of me in what I can or may.

AMADINE. And, good Segasto, these great courtesies Shall not be forgot.

CLOWN. Why, hark you, master! bones, what have you done? What, given away the wench you made me take such pains for? you are wise indeed; mass, and I had known of that, I would have had her myself. Faith, master, now we may go to breakfast with a woodcock-pie.

SEGASTO. Go, sir; you were best leave this knavery.

KING. Come on, my lords, let's now to court, Where we may finish up the joyfullest day That ever happ'd to a distressed king.[197] With mirth and joy and great solemnity We'll finish up these Hymen's rites most pleasantly.

CLOWN. Ho, lords! at the first, I am one too; but hear, Master King, by your leave, a cast. Now you have done with them, I pray you begin with me.

KING. Why, what wouldst thou have?

CLOWN. O, you forgot now! a little apparel to make's handsome. What, should lords go so beggarly as I do?

KING. What I did promise thee, I will perform. Attend on me: come, let's depart.

[_They all speak_.

We'll wait on you with all our hearts.

CLOWN. And with a piece of my liver too.

[_Exeunt omnes_.

_Enter_ COMEDY _and_ ENVY.

COMEDY. How now, Envy? what, blushest thou already? Peep forth, hide not thy head with shame; But with a courage praise a woman's deeds. Thy threats were vain, thou couldst do me no hurt, Although thou seem'st to cross me with despite, I overwhelm'd and turn'd upside down thy block, And made thyself to stumble at the same.

ENVY. Though stumbled, yet not overthrown: Thou canst not draw my heart to mildness, Yet must I needs confess thou hast done well, And play'd thy part with mirth and pleasant glee. Say all this; yet canst thou not conquer me, Although this time thou hast got-- Yet not the conquest neither, A double revenge another time I'll have.[198]

COMEDY. Then, caitiff cursed, stoop upon thy knee; Yield to a woman, though not to me, And from her foes high God defend her still, That they 'gainst her may never work their will.

ENVY. Envy, were he never so stout Would beck and bow unto her majesty. Indeed, Comedy, thou hast overrun me now, And forc'd me stoop unto a woman's sway. God grant her grace amongst us long may reign, And those that would not have it so, Would that by Envy soon their hearts they might forego.

COMEDY. The council, nobles, and this realm, Lord, guide it still with thy most holy hand! The Commons and the subjects, grant them grace. Their prince to serve, her to obey, and treason to deface: Long may she reign in joy and great felicity, Each Christian heart do say amen with me.

[_Exeunt_.

FINIS.

THE TWO ANGRY WOMEN OF ABINGTON.

_EDITION.

The Pleasant Historie of the two angrie women of Abington. With the humorous mirthe of Dick Coomes and Nicholas Prouerbes, two Seruingmen. As it was lately playde by the right Honorable the Earle of Nottingham, Lord high Admirall, his seruants. By Henry Porter Gent. Imprinted at London for Ioseph Hunt, and William Ferbrand, and are to be solde at the Corner of Colman-streete, neere Loathburie_. 1599. 4º.

Another 4º, printed for Ferbrand alone, was published during the same year.--_Dyce_.

[DYCE'S PREFACE.][199]

The text of the former 4°, which is, I apprehend, the earlier impression, has been adopted in the present reprint, except where the readings of the other edition have been occasionally preferred, and where obvious typographical errors have been rectified. Every minute particular in which the second 4° differs from the first, I have thought it unnecessary to note. The absurd punctuation and faulty metrical arrangement of the old copy have not been followed; and I must be allowed to add that I have retained the original spelling only in accordance to the decision of the Percy Council.[200]

Though Henry Porter was a dramatist of considerable reputation, all his productions, except the copy now reprinted, appear to have utterly perished; and, I believe, the only materials to be found for his biography are the subjoined memoranda in the Diary of Henslowe:[201]--

Pd this 23 of Aguste 1597 to Harey Porter to carye to |
T. Nashe now at this tyme in the fflete for wrytinge of | s
_the eylle of Dogges_ ten shellinges to bee paide agen to | x
me when he canne I say ten shillinges |

Lent unto the company the 30 of Maye 1598 to bye a boocke | li
[202] called _Love prevented_ the some of fower powndes dd. | iiij
to Thomas Dowton, Mr Porter |

Lent unto the company the 18 of Aguste 1598 to bye a Booke | li
called _Hoote Anger sone cowld_ of Mr Porter, Mr Cheattell | vj
and bengemen Johnson in full payment, the some of |

Lent unto Thomas Dowton the 22 of Desember 1598 to bye a | li
boocke of Harey Porter called _the 2 pte of the 2 angrey_ | v
_Wemen of Abengton_ |

Let unto Harey Porter at the request of the company in |
earnest of his booke called _ij merey women of abington_ |
the some of forty shellings and for the resayte of that | s
money he gave me his faythfull promise that I should have | xl
alle his bookes which he writte ether him selfe or with |
any other which some was dd. the 28th of febreary 1598[-9]. |

Lent unto Harey Cheattell the 4 of March 1598[-9] in | s
earneste of his boocke which Harey Porter and he is a | x
writtinge the some of--called _the Spencers_. |

Lent Harey Porter the 11 of Aprell 1599 the some of | s d
| ii vj

Lent Hary Porter the 16 of Aprell 1599 the some of[203] | d
| xij

Lent Harey Porter the 5 of Maye 1599 the some of | s d
| ii vj

Lent Harey Porter the 15 of Maye 1599 the some of | s d
| ii vj

Be it knowne unto all men that I Henry Porter do owe unto
Phillip Henchlowe the some of x's of lawfull money of
England which I did borrowe of hym the 26 of Maye a'o. dom.
1599 Henry Porter[204].

"The Two Angry Women of Abington" is thus noticed by the late Charles Lamb: "The pleasant comedy from which these extracts are taken is contemporary with some of the earliest of Shakespeare's, and is no whit inferior to either the 'Comedy of Errors' or the 'Taming of the Shrew,' for instance. It is full of business, humour, and merry malice. Its night scenes are peculiarly sprightly and wakeful. The versification unencumbered, and rich with compound epithets."[205] A.D.

THE PROLOGUE.