Chapter XXIV: Act THE FIFTH: SCENE I.--A Meadow near the Keepers Lodge

_Enter_ MARGARET _in nun's apparel, the_ Keeper, _and their_ Friend.

_Keeper._ Margaret, be not so headstrong in these vows:
O, bury not such beauty in a cell,
That England hath held famous for the hue!
Thy father's hair, like to the silver blooms
That beautify the shrubs of Africa,
Shall fall before the dated time of death,
Thus to forgo his lovely Margaret.

_Mar._ Ah, father, when the harmony of heaven
Soundeth the measures of a lively faith,
The vain illusions of this flattering world
Seem odious to the thoughts of Margaret.
I lovèd once,--Lord Lacy was my love;
And now I hate myself for that I lov'd,
And doted more on him than on my God:
For this I scourge myself with sharp repents.
But now the touch of such aspiring sins
Tells me all love is lust but love of heavens;
That beauty us'd for love is vanity:
The world contains naught but alluring baits,
Pride, flattery, and inconstant thoughts.
To shun the pricks of death, I leave the world,
And vow to meditate on heavenly bliss,
To live in Framlingham a holy nun,
Holy and pure in conscience and in deed;
And for to wish all maids to learn of me
To seek heaven's joy before earth's vanity.

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

_Mar._ Now farewell, world, the engine of all woe!
Farewell to friends and father! welcome Christ!
Adieu to dainty robes! this base attire
Better befits an humble mind to God
Than all the show of rich habiliments.
Farewell, O love, and, with fond love, farewell
Sweet Lacy, whom I lovèd once so dear!
Ever be well, but never in my thoughts,
Lest I offend to think on Lacy's love:
But even to that, as to the rest, farewell!

_Enter_ LACY, WARREN _and_ ERMSBY, _booted and spurred._

_Lacy._ Come on, my wags, we're near the Keeper's lodge.
Here have I oft walk'd in the watery meads,
And chatted with my lovely Margaret.

_War._ Sirrah Ned, is not this the Keeper?

_Lacy._ 'Tis the same.

_Erms._ The old lecher hath gotten holy mutton[233] to him; a nun, my lord.

_Lacy._ Keeper, how far'st thou? holla, man, what cheer?
How doth Peggy, thy daughter and my love?

_Keeper._ Ah, good my lord! O, woe is me for Peggy!
See where she stands clad in her nun's attire,
Ready for to be shorn in Framlingham:
She leaves the world because she left your love.
O, good my lord, persuade her if you can!

_Lacy._ Why, how now, Margaret! what, a malcontent?
A nun? what holy father taught you this,
To task yourself to such a tedious life
As die a maid? 'twere injury to me
To smother up such beauty in a cell.

_Mar._ Lord Lacy, thinking of my former miss,
How fond the prime of wanton years were spent
In love (O, fie upon that fond conceit,
Whose hap and essence hangeth in the eye!),
I leave both love and love's content at once,
Betaking me to him that is true love,
And leaving all the world for love of him.

_Lacy._ Whence, Peggy, comes this metamorphosis?
What, shorn a nun, and I have from the court
Posted with coursers to convey thee hence
To Windsor, where our marriage shall be kept!
Thy wedding robes are in the tailor's hands.
Come, Peggy, leave these peremptory vows.

_Mar._ Did not my lord resign his interest,
And make divorce 'twixt Margaret and him?

_Lacy._ 'Twas but to try sweet Peggy's constancy.
But will fair Margaret leave her love and lord?

_Mar._ Is not heaven's joy before earth's fading bliss,
And life above sweeter than life in love?

_Lacy._ Why, then, Margaret will be shorn a nun?

_Mar._ Margaret hath made a vow which may not be revok'd.

_War._ We cannot stay, my lord; an if she be so strict,
Our leisure grants us not to woo afresh.

_Erms._ Choose you, fair damsel,--yet the choice is yours,--
Either a solemn nunnery or the court,
God or Lord Lacy: which contents you best,
To be a nun, or else Lord Lacy's wife?

_Lacy._ A good motion.--Peggy, your answer must be short.

_Mar._ The flesh is frail; my lord doth know it well,
That when he comes with his enchanting face,
Whate'er betide I cannot say him nay.
Off goes the habit of a maiden's heart,
And, seeing fortune will, fair Framlingham,
And all the show of holy nuns, farewell!
Lacy for me, if he will be my lord.

_Lacy._ Peggy, thy lord, thy love, thy husband.
Trust me, by truth of knighthood, that the king
Stays for to marry matchless Elinor,
Until I bring thee richly to the court,
That one day may both marry her and thee.--
How say'st thou, Keeper? art thou glad of this?

_Keeper._ As if the English king had given
The park and deer of Fressingfield to me.

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

_War._ To see the nature of women; that be they never so near God, yet they love to die in a man's arms.

_Lacy._ What have you fit for breakfast? We have hied
And posted all this night to Fressingfield.

_Mar._ Butter and cheese, and umbles of a deer,
Such as poor keepers have within their lodge.

_Lacy._ And not a bottle of wine?

_Mar._ We'll find one for my lord.

_Lacy._ Come, Sussex, let us in: we shall have more,
For she speaks least, to hold her promise sure.
[_Exeunt._

SCENE II.--FRIAR BACON'S _Cell._

_Enter a_ Devil.

_Dev._ How restless are the ghosts of hellish spirits,
When every charmer with his magic spells,
Calls us from nine-fold-trenchèd Phlegethon,
To scud and over-scour the earth in post
Upon the speedy wings of swiftest winds!
Now Bacon hath rais'd me from the darkest deep,
To search about the world for Miles his man,
For Miles, and to torment his lazy bones
For careless watching of his Brazen Head.
See where he comes: O, he is mine!

_Enter_ MILES _in a gown and a corner-cap._

_Miles._ A scholar, quoth you! marry, sir, I would I had been made a bottle-maker when I was made a scholar; for I can get neither to be a deacon, reader, nor schoolmaster, no, not the clerk of a parish. Some call me dunce; another saith, my head is as full of Latin as an egg's full of oatmeal: thus I am tormented, that the devil and Friar Bacon haunt me.--Good Lord, here's one of my master's devils! I'll go speak to him.--What, Master Plutus, how cheer you?

_Dev._ Dost thou know me?

_Miles._ Know you, sir! why, are not you one of my master's devils, that were wont to come to my master, Doctor Bacon, at Brazen-nose?

_Dev._ Yes, marry, am I.

_Miles._ Good Lord, Master Plutus, I have seen you a thousand times at my master's, and yet I had never the manners to make you drink. But, sir, I am glad to see how conformable you are to the statute.--I warrant you, he's as yeomanly a man as you shall see: mark you, masters, here's a plain, honest man, without welt or guard.[234]--But I pray you, sir, do you come lately from hell?

_Dev._ Ay, marry: how then?

_Miles._ Faith, 'tis a place I have desired long to see: have you not good tippling-houses there? may not a man have a lusty fire there, a pot of good ale, a pair[235] of cards, a swinging piece of chalk, and a brown toast that will clap a white waistcoat on a cup of good drink?

_Dev._ All this you may have there.

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

_Dev._ Yes, a thousand: what would'st thou be?

_Miles._ By my troth, sir, in a place where I may profit myself. I know hell is a hot place, and men are marvellous dry, and much drink is spent there; I would be a tapster.

_Dev._ Thou shalt.

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

_Dev._ Thou shalt ride on my back.

_Miles._ Now surely here's a courteous devil, that, for to pleasure his friend, will not stick to make a jade of himself.--But I pray you, goodman friend, let me move a question to you.

_Dev._ What's that?

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

_Dev._ An amble.

_Miles._ 'Tis well; but take heed it be not a trot: but 'tis no matter, I'll prevent it. [_Puts on spurs._

_Dev._ What dost?

_Miles._ Marry, friend, I put on my spurs; for if I find your pace either a trot or else uneasy, I'll put you to a false gallop; I'll make you feel the benefit of my spurs.

_Dev._ Get up upon my back. [MILES _mounts on the_ Devil's _back._

_Miles._ O Lord, here's even a goodly marvel, when a man rides to hell on the devil's back! [_Exeunt, the_ Devil _roaring._

SCENE III.--_At Court._

_Enter the_ EMPEROR _with a pointless sword; next the_ KING OF CASTILE _carrying a sword with a point;_ LACY _carrying the globe;_ WARREN _carrying a rod of gold with a dove on it;_[236] ERMSBY _with a crown and sceptre;_ PRINCESS ELINOR _with_ MARGARET, _Countess of Lincoln, on her left hand;_ PRINCE EDWARD; KING HENRY; FRIAR BACON; _and_ Lords _attending._

_P. Edw._ Great potentates, earth's miracles for state,
Think that Prince Edward humbles at your feet,
And, for these favours, on his martial sword
He vows perpetual homage to yourselves,
Yielding these honours unto Elinor.

_K. Hen._ Gramercies, lordings; old Plantagenet,
That rules and sways the Albion diadem,
With tears discovers these conceivèd joys,
And vows requital, if his men-at-arms,
The wealth of England, or due honours done
To Elinor, may quite his favourites.
But all this while what say you to the dames
That shine like to the crystal lamps of heaven?

_Emp._ If but a third were added to these two,
They did surpass those gorgeous images
That gloried Ida with rich beauty's wealth.

_Mar._ 'Tis I, my lords, who humbly on my knee
Must yield her orisons to mighty Jove
For lifting up his handmaid to this state;
Brought from her homely cottage to the court,
And grac'd with kings, princes, and emperors,
To whom (next to the noble Lincoln Earl)
I vow obedience, and such humble love
As may a handmaid to such mighty men.

_P. Elin._ Thou martial man that wears the Almain crown,
And you the western potentates of might,
The Albion princess, English Edward's wife,
Proud that the lovely star of Fressingfield,
Fair Margaret, Countess to the Lincoln Earl,
Attends on Elinor,--gramercies, lord, for her,--
'Tis I give thanks for Margaret to you all,
And rest for her due bounden to yourselves.

_K. Hen._ Seeing the marriage is solémnizèd,
Let's march in triumph to the royal feast.--
But why stands Friar Bacon here so mute?

_Bacon._ Repentant for the follies of my youth,
That magic's secret mysteries misled,
And joyful that this royal marriage
Portends such bliss unto this matchless realm.

_K. Hen._ Why, Bacon, what strange event shall happen to this land? Or what shall grow from Edward and his Queen?

_Bacon._ I find[237] by deep prescience of mine art,
Which once I temper'd in my secret cell,
That here where Brute did build his Troynovant,
From forth the royal garden of a king
Shall flourish out so rich and fair a bud,
Whose brightness shall deface proud Phœbus' flower,
And overshadow Albion with her leaves.
Till then Mars shall be master of the field,
But then the stormy threats of wars shall cease:
The horse shall stamp as careless of the pike,
Drums shall be turn'd to timbrels of delight;
With wealthy favours plenty shall enrich
The strand that gladded wandering Brute to see;
And peace from heaven shall harbour in these leaves,
That, gorgeous, beautify this matchless flower:
Apollo's heliotropion then shall stoop,
And Venus' hyacinth shall vail her top;
Juno shall shut her gilliflowers up,
And Pallas' bay shall 'bash her brightest green;
Ceres' carnation, in consort with those,
Shall stoop and wonder at Diana's rose.

_K. Hen._ This prophecy is mystical.--
But, glorious commanders of Europa's love,
That make fair England like that wealthy isle
Circled with Gihon and swift Eúphrates,
In royalizing Henry's Albion
With presence of your princely mightiness,--
Let's march: the tables all are spread,
And viands, such as England's wealth affords,
Are ready set to furnish out the boards.
You shall have welcome, mighty potentates:
It rests to furnish up this royal feast,
Only your hearts be frolic; for the time
Craves that we taste of naught but jouissance.
Thus glories England over all the west.
[_Exeunt Omnes._

_Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci._

JAMES THE FOURTH

Three of Greene's plays, _A Looking-Glass, Orlando Furioso_ and _Friar Bacon_, are known to have been printed in 1594. Two plays, _James IV._ and _Friar Bacon_, were entered on the Stationers' Registers on the same day, 14th May 1594. It is altogether probable that the first printing of _James IV._ occurred in the same year, though no trace of such an edition has been found. The earliest extant Quarto is dated 1598, and was printed by Thomas Creede. Of this two copies are known, one in the British Museum and one in the South Kensington Museum. Lowndes records a reprint of 1599, but none such has been discovered. The play is not mentioned by Henslowe, and there is no record of its performance. The text of the Quarto of 1598 is in very poor state, and shows indications that the play was either published from a stage copy or that type was set by dictation. In V. 3, the King of England is called Arius, though elsewhere he is given his own title. In II. 2 and III. 2, Ateukin is called Gnatho; in V. 2, Ateukin and Gnatho appear together. This last duplication of Ateukin and his Terentian prototype is held by Fleay to indicate another hand in the composition of the play. Gnatho here, however, stands instead of Jaques. It should be noticed that in the original story by Cinthio, the Capitano is equivalent to both Ateukin and Jaques. The confusion probably arose then from an uncertainty in Greene's mind as to names rather than from double authorship. In the hasty first composition Greene probably used the well-known dramatic type-name for "sycophant," and was later careless in substituting the name of his choice. The plot of the play is taken, as indicated by Mr P. A. Daniel in 1881, from the first novel of the third decade of Cinthio's _Hecatommithi_. The play makes no pretence to historical accuracy, and the title itself, in so far as it refers to Flodden Field, is misleading. Nevertheless the play is by some held to be "the finest Elizabethan historical play outside of Shakespeare." By its acted prologue and interplay it served as a model for Shakespeare's _Taming of the Shrew_ and _Midsummer Night's Dream_.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

KING OF ENGLAND.

LORD PERCY.

SAMLES.

KING OF SCOTS.

LORD DOUGLAS.

LORD MORTON.

LORD ROSS.

BISHOP OF ST ANDREWS.

LORD EUSTACE.

SIR BARTRAM.

SIR CUTHBERT ANDERSON.

ATEUKIN.

JAQUES.

A Lawyer.

A Merchant.

A Divine.

SLIPPER, NANO, a dwarf, sons to BOHAN.

ANDREW.

Purveyor, Herald, Scout, Huntsmen, Soldiers, Revellers, etc.

DOROTHEA, Queen of Scots.

COUNTESS OF ARRAN.

IDA, her daughter.

LADY ANDERSON.

Ladies, etc.

OBERON, King of Fairies.

BOHAN.

Antics, Fairies, etc.

_JAMES THE FOURTH_[238]

THE INDUCTION.

_Music playing within. Enter after_ OBERON, _King of Fairies, an_ Antic,[239] _who dance about a tomb placed conveniently on the stage; out of which suddenly starts up, as they dance,_ BOHAN, _a Scot, attired like a ridstall_[240] _man, from whom the_ Antics _fly._ OBERON _remains._

_Boh._ Ah say, what's thou?

_Ober._ Thy friend, Bohan.

_Boh._ What wot I or reck I that? whay, guid man, I reck no friend nor ay reck no foe; als ene to me. Git thee ganging, and trouble not may whayet,[241] or ays gar[242] thee recon me nene of thay friend, by the Mary mass, sall I!

_Ober._ Why, angry Scot, I visit thee for love; then what moves thee to wrath?

_Boh._ The de'il a whit reck I thy love; for I know too well that true love took her flight twenty winter sence to heaven, whither till ay can, weel I wot, ay sal ne'er find love: an thou lovest me, leave me to myself. But what were those puppets that hopped and skipped about me year whayle?[243]

_Ober._ My subjects.

_Boh._ Thay subjects! whay, art thou a king?

_Ober._ I am.

_Boh._ The de'il thou art! whay, thou lookest not so big as the King of Clubs, nor so sharp as the King of Spades, nor so fain as the King a Daymonds: be the mass, ay take thee to be the king of false hearts; therefore I rid[244] thee away, or ayse so curry your kingdom that you's be glad to run to save your life.

_Ober._ Why, stoical Scot, do what thou darest to me: here is my breast, strike.

_Boh._ Thou wilt not threap[245] me, this whinyard[246] has gard many better men to lope then thou! [_Tries to draw his sword._] But how now! Gos sayds, what, will't not out? Whay, thou witch, thou de'il! Gad's fute, may whinyard!

_Ober._ Why, pull, man: but what an 'twere out, how then?

_Boh._ This, then,--thou weart best be gone first; for ay'l so lop thy limbs that thou's go with half a knave's carcass to the de'il.

_Ober._ Draw it out: now strike, fool, canst thou not?

_Boh._ Bread ay gad, what de'il is in me? Whay, tell me, thou skipjack, what art thou?

_Ober._ Nay, first tell me what thou wast from thy birth, what thou hast passed hitherto, why thou dwellest in a tomb and leavest the world; and then I will release thee of these bonds; before, not.

_Boh._ And not before! then needs must, needs sall. I was born a gentleman of the best blood in all Scotland, except the king. When time brought me to age, and death took my parents, I became a courtier; where, though ay list not praise myself, ay engraved the memory of Bohan on the skin-coat of some of them, and revelled with the proudest.

_Ober._ But why, living in such reputation, didst thou leave to be a courtier?

_Boh._ Because my pride was vanity, my expense loss, my reward fair words and large promises, and my hopes spilt; for that after many years' service one outran me; and what the de'il should I then do there? No, no; flattering knaves, that can cog and prate fastest, speed best in the court.

_Ober._ To what life didst thou then betake thee?

_Boh._ I then changed the court for the country, and the wars for a wife: but I found the craft of swains more vile than the knavery of courtiers, the charge of children more heavy than servants, and wives' tongues worse than the wars itself; and therefore I gave o'er that, and went to the city to dwell; and there I kept a great house with small cheer, but all was ne'er the near.[247]

_Ober._ And why?

_Boh._ Because, in seeking friends, I found table-guests to eat me and my meat, my wife's gossips to bewray the secrets of my heart, kindred to betray the effect of my life: which when I noted,--the court ill, the country worse, and the city worst of all,--in good time my wife died, ay would she had died twenty winter sooner, by the mass! leaving my two sons[248] to the world, and shutting myself into this tomb, where, if I die, I am sure I am safe from wild beasts, but, whilst I live, cannot be free from ill company. Besides, now I am sure, gif all my friends fail me, I sall have a grave of mine own providing. This is all. Now, what art thou?

_Ober._ Oberon, King of Fairies, that loves thee because thou hatest the world; and, to gratulate thee, I brought these antics to show thee some sport in dancing, which thou hast loved well.

_Boh._ Ha, ha, ha! thinkest thou those puppets can please me? whay, I have two sons, that with one Scottish jig shall break the necks of thy antics.

_Ober._ That I would fain see.

_Boh._ Why, thou shalt.--Ho, boys!

_Enter_ SLIPPER _and_ NANO.

Haud your clacks,[249] lads; trattle not for thy life, but gather up your legs, and dance me forthwith a jig worth the sight.

_Slip._ Why, I must talk, an I die for't: wherefore was my tongue made?

_Boh._ Prattle, an thou darest, one word more, and ais dab this whinyard in thy wemb.

_Ober._ Be quiet, Bohan. I'll strike him dumb, and his brother too; their talk shall not hinder our jig.--Fall to it; dance, I say, man!

_Boh._ Dance, Humer, dance, ay rid thee. [_The two dance a jig devised for the nonst._ Now get you to the wide world with more than my father gave me; that's learning enough both kinds, knavery and honesty; and that I gave you, spend at pleasure.

_Ober._ Nay, for their sport I will give them this gift: to the dwarf I give a quick wit, pretty of body, and awarrant his preferment to a prince's service, where by his wisdom he shall gain more love than common; and to loggerhead your son I give a wandering life, and promise he shall never lack, and avow that, if in all distresses he call upon me, to help him. Now let them go. [_Exeunt_ SLIPPER _and_ NANO _with courtesies._

_Boh._ Now, king, if thou be a king, I will show thee whay I hate the world by demonstration. In the year fifteen hundred and twenty, was in Scotland a king, over-ruled with parasites, misled by lust, and many circumstances too long to trattle on now, much like our court of Scotland this day. That story have I set down. Gang with me to the gallery, and I'll show thee the same in action by guid fellows of our country-men; and then, when thou see'st that, judge if any wise man would not leave the world if he could.

_Ober._ That will I see: lead, and I'll follow thee. [_Exeunt._

_Laus Deo detur in æternum._