Chapter VIII: Act V: Scene I.83 (3)

_Mar._ Thomas, maids when they come to see the fair
Count not to make a cope[173] for dearth of hay;
When we have turn’d our butter to the salt,
And set our cheese safely upon the racks,
Then let our fathers price it as they please. 10
We country sluts of merry Fressingfield
Come to buy needless naughts to make us fine,
And look that young men should be frank this day,
And court us with such fairings as they can.
Phœbus is blithe, and frolic looks from heaven,
As when he courted lovely Semele, 16
Swearing the pedlars shall have empty packs,
If that fair weather may make chapmen buy.

_Lacy._ But, lovely Peggy, Semele is dead,
And therefore Phœbus from his palace pries, 20
And, seeing such a sweet and seemly saint,
Shows all his glories for to court yourself.

_Mar._ This is a fairing, gentle sir, indeed,
To soothe me up with such smooth flattery;
But learn of me, your scoff’s too broad before.—[174] 25
Well, Joan, our beauties must abide their jests;
We serve the turn in jolly Fressingfield.

_Joan._ Margaret, a farmer’s daughter for a farmer’s son:
I warrant you, the meanest of us both
Shall have a mate to lead us from the church.
But, Thomas, what’s the news? What, in a dump? 31
Give me your hand, we are near a pedlar’s shop;
Out with your purse, we must have fairings now.

_Thom._ Faith, Joan, and shall. I’ll bestow a fairing on you, and
then we will to the tavern, (35) and snap off a pint of wine or two.

_All this while_ LACY _whispers_ MARGARET _in the ear._

_Mar._ Whence are you, sir? Of Suffolk? For your terms
Are finer than the common sort of men.

_Lacy._ Faith, lovely girl, I am of Beccles by,
Your neighbour, not above six miles from hence, 40
A farmer’s son, that never was so quaint[175]
But that he could do courtesy to such dames.
But trust me, Margaret, I am sent in charge
From him that revell’d in your father’s house,
And fill’d his lodge with cheer and venison, 45
Tired in green. He sent you this rich purse,
His token that he help’d you run your cheese,
And in the milkhouse chatted with yourself.

_Mar._ To me?

_Lacy._ You forget yourself;[176] 50
Women are often weak in memory.

_Mar._ O, pardon, sir, I call to mind the man.
’T were little manners to refuse his gift,
And yet I hope he sends it not for love;
For we have little leisure to debate of that. 55

_Joan._ What, Margaret! blush not; maids must have their loves.

_Thom._ Nay, by the mass, she looks pale as if she were angry.

_Rich._ Sirrah, are you of Beccles? I pray, how doth Goodman Cob?
My father bought a (60) horse of him.—I’ll tell you, Margaret,
’a were good to be a gentleman’s jade, for of all things the foul
hilding[177] could not abide a doong-cart.

_Mar._ [_aside._] How different is this farmer from the rest 65
That erst as yet have pleas’d my wand’ring sight!
His words are witty, quickened with a smile,
His courtesy gentle, smelling of the court;
Facile and debonair in all his deeds,
Proportion’d as was Paris, when, in grey,[178] 70
He courted Œnon in the vale by Troy.
Great lords have come and pleaded for my love:
Who but the Keeper’s lass of Fressingfield?
And yet methinks this farmer’s jolly son
Passeth the proudest that hath pleas’d mine eye. 75
But, Peg, disclose not that thou art in love,
And show as yet no sign of love to him,
Although thou well wouldst wish him for thy love;
Keep that to thee till time doth serve thy turn,
To show the grief wherein thy heart doth burn.— 80
Come, Joan and Thomas, shall we to the fair?—
You, Beccles man, will not forsake us now?

_Lacy._ Not whilst I may have such quaint girls as you.

_Mar._ Well, if you chance to come by Fressingfield,
Make but a step into the Keeper’s lodge, 85
And such poor fare as woodmen can afford,
Butter and cheese, cream and fat venison,
You shall have store, and welcome therewithal.

_Lacy._ Gramercies, Peggy; look for me ere long. _Exeunt._

[Scene IV.][179]

_Enter_ [KING] HENRY THE THIRD, _the_ EMPEROR, _the_ KING OF CASTILE, ELINOR, _his daughter_, _and_ VANDERMAST, _a German._

_K. Hen._ Great men of Europe, monarchs of the west,
Ring’d with the walls of old Oceanus,
Whose lofty surge is like the battlements
That compass’d high-built Babel in with towers,
Welcome, my lords, welcome, brave western kings, 5
To England’s shore, whose promontory cliffs
Show Albion is another little world;
Welcome says English Henry to you all;
Chiefly unto the lovely Elinor,
Who dar’d for Edward’s sake cut through the seas, 10
And venture as Agenor’s damsel through the deep,
To get the love of Henry’s wanton son.

_K. of Cast._ England’s rich monarch, brave Plantagenet,
The Pyren Mounts swelling above the clouds,
That ward the wealthy Castile in with walls, 15
Could not detain the beauteous Elinor;
But, hearing of the fame of Edward’s youth,
She dar’d to brook Neptunus’ haughty pride,
And bide the brunt of froward Æolus. 19
Then may fair England welcome her the more.

_Elin._ After that English Henry by his lords
Had sent Prince Edward’s lovely counterfeit,
A present to the Castile Elinor,
The comely portrait of so brave a man,
The virtuous fame discoursed of his deeds, 25
Edward’s courageous resolution,
Done at the Holy Land ’fore Damas’ walls,
Led both mine eye and thoughts in equal links
To like so of the English monarch’s son,
That I attempted perils for his sake. 30

_Emp._ Where is the prince, my lord?

_K. Hen._ He posted down, not long since, from the court,
To Suffolk side, to merry Framlingham,
To sport himself amongst my fallow deer;
From thence, by packets sent to Hampton-house, 35
We hear the prince is ridden with his lords
To Oxford, in the académy there
To hear dispute amongst the learned men.
But we will send forth letters for my son,
To will him come from Oxford to the court. 40

_Emp._ Nay, rather, Henry, let us, as we be,
Ride for to visit Oxford with our train.
Fain would I see your universities,
And what learn’d men your académy yields.
From Hapsburg have I brought a learned clerk
To hold dispute with English orators. 46
This doctor, surnam’d Jaques Vandermast,
A German born, pass’d into Padua,
To Florence and to fair Bologna,
To Paris, Rheims, and stately Orleans, 50
And, talking there with men of art, put down
The chiefest of them all in aphorisms,[180]
In magic, and the mathematic rules:
Now let us, Henry, try him in your schools.

_K. Hen._ He shall, my lord; this motion likes me well. 55
We’ll progress straight to Oxford with our trains,
And see what men our académy brings.—
And, wonder Vandermast, welcome to me.
In Oxford shalt thou find a jolly friar
Call’d Friar Bacon, England’s only flower: 60
Set him but nonplus in his magic spells,
And make him yield in mathematic rules,
And for thy glory I will bind thy brows,
Not with a poet’s garland made of bays,
But with a coronet of choicest gold. 65
Whilst,[181] then, we set[182] to Oxford with our troops,
Let’s in and banquet in our English court. _Exeunt._

[SCENE V.][183]

_Enter_ RALPH SIMNELL _in_ [PRINCE] EDWARD’S _apparel; and_ [PRINCE] EDWARD, WARREN, _and_ ERMSBY, _disguised._

_Ralph._ Where be these vagabond knaves, that they attend no better
on their master?

_P. Edw._ If it please your honour, we are all ready at an inch.[184]

_Ralph._ Sirrah Ned, I’ll have no more post-horse (5) to ride on:
I’ll have another fetch.[185]

_Erms._ I pray you, how is that, my lord?

_Ralph._ Marry, sir, I’ll send to the Isle of Ely for four or five
dozen of geese, and I’ll have them tied six and six together with
whip-cord, (10) Now upon their backs will I have a fair field-bed
with a canopy; and so, when it is my pleasure, I’ll flee into what
place I please. This will be easy.

_War._ Your honour hath said well; but (15) shall we to Brazen-nose
College before we pull off our boots?

_Erms._ Warren, well motion’d; we will to the friar
Before we revel it within the town.—
Ralph, see you keep your countenance like a
prince. 20

_Ralph._ Wherefore have I such a company of cutting[186] knaves to
wait upon me, but to keep and defend my countenance against all mine
enemies? Have you not good swords and bucklers? 25

_Enter_ [FRIAR] BACON _and_ MILES.

_Erms._ Stay, who comes here?

_War._ Some scholar; and we’ll ask him where Friar Bacon is.

_Bacon._ Why, thou arrant dunce, shall I never make thee good
scholar? Doth not all the (30) town cry out and say, Friar Bacon’s
subsizer[187] is the greatest blockhead in all Oxford? Why, thou
canst not speak one word of true Latin.

_Miles._ No, sir? yes. What is this else? _Ego sum tuus homo_, “I am
your man”: I warrant (35) you, sir, as good Tully’s phrase as any is
in Oxford.

_Bacon._ Come on, sirrah; what part of speech is _Ego_?

_Miles. Ego_, that is “I”; marry, _nomen (40) substantivo_.

_Bacon._ How prove you that?

_Miles._ Why, sir, let him prove himself an ’a will; I can be heard,
felt, and understood.

_Bacon._ O gross dunce! _Beats him._ 45

_P. Edw._ Come, let us break off this dispute between these
two.—Sirrah, where is Brazen-nose College?

_Miles._ Not far from Coppersmith’s Hall.

_P. Edw._ What, dost thou mock me? 50

_Miles._ Not I, sir: but what would you at Brazen-nose?

_Erms._ Marry, we would speak with Friar Bacon.

_Miles._ Whose men be you? 55

_Erms._ Marry, scholar, here ’s our master.

_Ralph._ Sirrah, I am the master of these good fellows; mayst thou
not know me to be a lord by my reparrel? 59

_Miles._ Then here ’s good game for the hawk; for here’s the
master-fool and a covey of coxcombs. One wise man, I think, would
spring you all.

_P. Edw._ Gog’s wounds! Warren, kill him.

_War._ Why, Ned, I think the devil be in (65) my sheath; I cannot get
out my dagger.

_Erms._ Nor I mine. ’Swounds, Ned, I think I am bewitcht.

_Miles._ A company of scabs! The proudest of you all draw your
weapon, if he can.—(70) [_Aside._] See how boldly I speak, now my
master is by.

_P. Edw._ I strive in vain; but if my sword be shut
And conjur’d fast by magic in my sheath,
Villain, here is my fist. _Strikes_ MILES _a box on the ear._

_Miles._ O, I beseech you conjure his hands (75) too, that he may not
lift his arms to his head, for he is light-fingered!

_Ralph._ Ned, strike him; I’ll warrant thee by mine honour.

_Bacon._ What means the English prince to wrong my man? 80

_P. Edw._ To whom speak’st thou?

_Bacon._ To thee.

_P. Edw._ Who art thou?

_Bacon._ Could you not judge when all your swords grew fast,
That Friar Bacon was not far from hence? 85
Edward, King Henry’s son and Prince of Wales,
Thy fool disguis’d cannot conceal thyself.
I know both Ermsby and the Sussex Earl,
Else Friar Bacon had but little skill.
Thou com’st in post from merry Fressingfield, 90
Fast-fancied[188] to the Keeper’s bonny lass,
To crave some succour of the jolly friar;
And Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, hast thou left
To treat[189] fair Margaret to allow thy loves; 94
But friends are men, and love can baffle lords;
The earl both woos and courts her for himself.

_War._ Ned, this is strange; the friar knoweth all.

_Erms._ Apollo could not utter more than this.

_P. Edw._ I stand amaz’d to hear this jolly friar
Tell even the very secrets of my thoughts.—
But, learned Bacon, since thou know’st the cause 101
Why I did post so fast from Fressingfield,
Help, friar, at a pinch, that I may have
The love of lovely Margaret to myself, 104
And, as I am true Prince of Wales, I’ll give
Living and lands to strength thy college state.

_War._ Good friar, help the prince in this.

_Ralph._ Why, servant Ned, will not the friar do it? Were not my
sword glued to my scabbard by conjuration, I would cut off his 110
head, and make him do it by force.

_Miles._ In faith, my lord, your manhood and your sword is all alike;
they are so fast conjured that we shall never see them.

_Erms._ What, doctor, in a dump? Tush, help the prince, 115
And thou shalt see how liberal he will prove.

_Bacon._. Crave not such actions greater dumps than these?
I will, my lord, strain out my magic spells;
For this day comes the earl to Fressingfield, 119
And ’fore that night shuts in the day with dark,
They’ll be betrothed each to other fast.
But come with me; we’ll to my study straight,
And in a glass prospective I will show
What’s done this day in merry Fressingfield.

_P. Edw._ Gramercies, Bacon; I will quite thy pain. 125

_Bacon._ But send your train, my lord, into the town;
My scholar shall go bring them to their inn.
Meanwhile we’ll see the knavery of the earl.

_P. Edw._ Warren, leave me:—and, Ermsby, take the fool;
Let him be master, and go revel it, 130
Till I and Friar Bacon talk awhile.

_War._ We will, my lord.

_Ralph._ Faith, Ned, and I’ll lord it out till thou comest. I’ll be
Prince of Wales over all the black-pots[190] in Oxford.
_Exeunt._ 135

[Scene VI.][191]

FRIAR BACON _and_ [PRINCE] EDWARD _go into the study_.[192]

_Bacon._ Now, frolic Edward, welcome to my cell;
Here tempers Friar Bacon many toys.
And holds this place his consistory-court,
Wherein the devils plead homage to his words.
Within this glass prospective thou shalt see 5
This day what’s done in merry Fressingfield
’Twixt lovely Peggy and the Lincoln Earl.

_P. Edw._ Friar, thou glad’st me. Now shall Edward try How Lacy
meaneth to his sovereign lord.

_Bacon._ Stand there and look directly in the glass. 10

_Enter_ MARGARET _and_ FRIAR BUNGAY.

What sees my lord?

_P. Edw._ I see the Keeper’s lovely lass appear,
As brightsome[193] as the paramour of Mars,
Only attended by a jolly friar.

_Bacon._ Sit still, and keep the crystal in your eye. 15

_Mar._ But tell me. Friar Bungay, is it true[194]
That this fair courteous country swain,
Who says his father is a farmer nigh,
Can be Lord Lacy, Earl of Lincolnshire?

_Bun._ Peggy, ’t is true, ’t is Lacy for my life, 20
Or else mine art and cunning both doth fail,
Left by Prince Edward to procure his loves;
For he in green, that help you run your cheese,
Is son to Henry and the Prince of Wales.

_Mar._ Be what he will, his lure is but for lust. 25
But did Lord Lacy like poor Margaret,
Or would he deign to wed a country lass,
Friar, I would his humble handmaid be,
And for great wealth quite him with courtesy. 29

_Bun._ Why, Margaret, dost thou love him?

_Mar._ His personage, like the pride of vaunting Troy,
Might well avouch to shadow[195] Helen’s scape:[196]
His wit is quick and ready in conceit,
As Greece afforded in her chiefest prime:
Courteous, ah friar, full of pleasing smiles! 35
Trust me, I love too much to tell thee more;
Suffice to me he’s England’s paramour.

_Bun._ Hath not each eye that view’d thy pleasing face
Surnamed thee Fair Maid of Fressingfield?

_Mar._ Yes, Bungay; and would God the lovely earl 40
Had that in _esse_ that so many sought.

_Bun._ Fear not, the friar will not be behind
To show his cunning to entangle love.

_P. Edw._ I think the friar courts the bonny wench;
Bacon, methinks he is a lusty churl. 45

_Bacon._ Now look, my lord.

_Enter_ LACY [_disguised as before_].

_P. Edw._ Gog’s wounds, Bacon, here comes Lacy!

_Bacon._ Sit still, my lord, and mark the comedy.

_Bun._ Here’s Lacy, Margaret; step aside awhile. _They withdraw._

_Lacy._ Daphne, the damsel that caught Phœbus fast, 51
And lock’d him in the brightness of her looks,
Was not so beauteous in Apollo’s eyes
As is fair Margaret to the Lincoln Earl.
Recant thee, Lacy, thou art put in trust: 55
Edward, thy sovereign’s son, hath chosen thee,
A secret friend, to court her for himself,
And dar’st thou wrong thy prince with treachery?
Lacy, love makes no exception of a friend,
Nor deems it of a prince but as a man. 60
Honour bids thee control[197] him in his lust;
His wooing is not for to wed the girl,
But to entrap her and beguile the lass.
Lacy, thou lov’st, then brook not such abuse,
But wed her, and abide thy prince’s frown; 65
For better die than see her live disgrac’d.

_Mar._ Come, friar, I will shake him from his dumps.—[_Comes
forward._]
How cheer you, sir? A penny for your thought!
You ’re early up, pray God it be the near.[198]
What, come from Beccles in a morn so soon? 70

_Lacy._ Thus watchful are such men as live in love,
Whose eyes brook broken slumbers for their sleep.
I tell thee, Peggy, since last Harleston fair
My mind hath felt a heap of passions.

_Mar._ A trusty man, that court it for your friend. 75
Woo you still for the courtier all in green?
I marvel that he sues not for himself.

_Lacy._ Peggy,
I pleaded first to get your grace for him;
But when mine eyes survey’d your beauteous looks, 80
Love, like a wag, straight div’d into my heart,
And there did shrine the idea of yourself.
Pity me, though I be a farmer’s son,
And measure not my riches, but my love. 84

_Mar._ You are very hasty; for to garden well,
Seeds must have time to sprout before they spring:
Love ought to creep as doth the dial’s shade,
For timely[199] ripe is rotten too-too soon.

_Bun._ [_coming forward._] _Deus hic_; room for a merry friar!
What, youth of Beccles, with the Keeper’s lass? 90
’T is well; but tell me, hear you any news?

_Mar._ No, friar. What news?

_Bun._ Hear you not how the pursuivants do post
With proclamations through each country-town? 94

_Lacy._ For what, gentle friar? Tell the news.

_Bun._ Dwell’st thou in Beccles, and hear’st not of these news?
Lacy, the Earl of Lincoln, is late fled
From Windsor court, disguised like a swain,
And lurks about the country here unknown.
Henry suspects him of some treachery, 100
And therefore doth proclaim in every way,
That who can take the Lincoln Earl shall have,
Paid in the Exchequer, twenty thousand crowns.

_Lacy._ The Earl of Lincoln! Friar, thou art mad.
It was some other; thou mistak’st the man. 105
The Earl of Lincoln! Why, it cannot be.

_Mar._ Yes, very well, my lord, for you are he:
The Keeper’s daughter took you prisoner.
Lord Lacy, yield, I’ll be your gaoler once.

_P. Edw._ How familiar they be, Bacon! 110

_Bacon._ Sit still, and mark the sequel of their loves.

_Lacy._ Then am I double prisoner to thyself.
Peggy, I yield. But are these news in jest?

_Mar._ In jest with you, but earnest unto me;
For-why[200] these wrongs do wring me at the heart. 115
Ah, how these earls and noblemen of birth
Flatter and feign to forge poor women’s ill!

_Lacy._ Believe me, lass, I am the Lincoln Earl;
I not deny but, tired thus in rags,
I liv’d disguis’d to win fair Peggy’s love. 120

_Mar._ What love is there where wedding ends not love?

_Lacy._ I meant, fair girl, to make thee Lacy’s wife.

_Mar._ I little think that earls will stoop so low.

_Lacy._ Say, shall I make thee countess ere I sleep?

_Mar._ Handmaid unto the earl, so please himself; 125
A wife in name, but servant in obedience.

_Lacy._ The Lincoln Countess, for it shall be so:
I’ll plight the bands, and seal it with a kiss.

_P. Edw._ Gog’s wounds, Bacon, they kiss! I’ll stab them. 130

_Bacon._ O, hold your hands, my lord, it is the glass!

_P. Edw._ Choler to see the traitors gree so well.
Made me think the shadows substances.

_Bacon._ ’T were a long poniard, my lord, to reach between
Oxford and Fressingfield; but sit still and see more. 135

_Bun._ Well, Lord of Lincoln, if your loves be knit,
And that your tongues and thoughts do both agree,
To avoid ensuing jars, I’ll hamper up the match.
I’ll take my portace[201] forth and wed you here:
Then go to bed and seal[202] up your desires. 140

_Lacy._ Friar, content.—Peggy, how like you this?

_Mar._ What likes my lord is pleasing unto me.

_Bun._ Then hand-fast hand, and I will to my book.

_Bacon._ What sees my lord now?

_P. Edw._ Bacon, I see the lovers hand in hand, 145
The friar ready with his portace there
To wed them both: then am I quite undone.
Bacon, help now, if e’er thy magic serv’d;
Help, Bacon! Stop the marriage now,
If devils or necromancy may suffice, 150
And I will give thee forty thousand crowns.

_Bacon._ Fear not, my lord, I’ll stop the jolly friar
For[203] mumbling up his orisons this day.

_Lacy._ Why speak’st not, Bungay? Friar, to thy book.

_Bungay is mute, crying_, “Hud, hud.”

_Mar._ How look’st thou, friar, as a man distraught? 155
Reft of thy senses, Bungay? Show by signs,
If thou be dumb, what passions holdeth thee.

_Lacy._ He’s dumb indeed. Bacon hath with his devils
Enchanted him, or else some strange disease
Or apoplexy hath possess’d his lungs. 160
But, Peggy, what he cannot with his book,
We’ll ’twixt us both unite it up in heart.

_Mar._ Else let me die, my lord, a miscreant.

_P. Edw._ Why stands Friar Bungay so amaz’d?

_Bacon._ I have struck him dumb, my lord; and,
if your honour please, 165
I’ll fetch this Bungay straightway from Fressingfield
And he shall dine with us in Oxford here.

_P. Edw._ Bacon, do that, and thou contentest me.

_Lacy._ Of courtesy, Margaret, let us lead the friar
Unto thy father’s lodge, to comfort him 170
With broths, to bring him from this hapless trance.

_Mar._ Or else, my lord, we were passing unkind
To leave the friar so in his distress.

_Enter a_ Devil, _who carries off_ BUNGAY _on his back._

O, help, my lord! a devil, a devil, my lord!
Look how he carries Bungay on his back! 175
Let’s hence, for Bacon’s spirits be abroad. _Exit_ [_with_ LACY].

_P. Edw._ Bacon, I laugh to see the jolly friar
Mounted upon the devil, and how the earl
Flees with his bonny lass for fear.
As soon as Bungay is at Brazen-nose, 180
And I have chatted with the merry friar,
I will in post hie me to Fressingfield,
And quite these wrongs on Lacy ere ’t be long.

_Bacon._ So be it, my lord; but let us to our dinner;
For ere we have taken our repast awhile, 185
We shall have Bungay brought to Brazen-nose. _Exeunt._

[Scene VII.][204]

_Enter_ three doctors, BURDEN, MASON, _and_ CLEMENT.

_Mason._ Now that we are gathered in the Regent-house,
It fits us talk about the king’s repair,[205]
For he, trooped with all the western kings,
That lie alongst the Dantzic seas by east,
North by the clime of frosty Germany, 5
The Almain monarch, and the Saxon duke,
Castile and lovely Elinor with him,
Have in their jests resolv’d for Oxford town.

_Burd._ We must lay plots of stately tragedies
Strange comic shows, such as proud Roscius 10
Vaunted before the Roman emperors,
To welcome all the western potentates.

_Clem._ But more; the king by letters hath foretold
That Frederick, the Almain emperor,
Hath brought with him a German of esteem, 15
Whose surname is Don Jaques Vandermast,
Skilful in magic and those secret arts.

_Mason._ Then must we all make suit unto the friar,
To Friar Bacon, that he vouch this task,
And undertake to countervail in skill 20
The German; else there’s none in Oxford can
Match and dispute with learned Vandermast.

_Burd._ Bacon, if he will hold the German play,
Will teach him what an English friar can do.
The devil, I think, dare not dispute with him. 25

_Clem._ Indeed, Mas doctor, he [dis]pleasur’d you,
In that he brought your hostess with her spit
From Henley, posting unto Brazen-nose.

_Burd._ A vengeance on the friar for his pains!
But leaving that, let’s hie to Bacon straight, 30
To see if he will take this task in hand.

_Clem._ Stay, what rumour is this? The town is up in a mutiny. What
hurly-burly is this?

_Enter a_ Constable, _with_ RALPH SIMNELL, WARREN, ERMSBY, [_all three disguised as before_], _and_ MILES.

_Cons._ Nay, masters, if you were ne’er so good, you shall before the
doctors to answer (35) your misdemeanour.

_Burd._ What’s the matter, fellow?

_Cons._ Marry, sir, here’s a company of rufflers, that, drinking in
the tavern, have made a great brawl, and almost killed the vintner. 40

_Miles._ Salve_, Doctor Burden!
This lubberly lurden,[206]
Ill-shap’d and ill-faced,
Disdain’d and disgraced,
What he tells unto _vobis_ 45
_Mentitur de nobis_.

_Burd._ Who is the master and chief of this crew?

_Miles._ Ecce asinum mundi_
_Fugura rotundi_, 50
Neat, sheat,[207] and fine,
As brisk as a cup of wine.

_Burd._ What are you?

_Ralph._ I am, father doctor, as a man would say, the bell-wether of
this company; these (55) are my lords, and I the Prince of Wales.

_Clem._ Are you Edward, the king’s son?

_Ralph._ Sirrah Miles, bring hither the tapster that drew the wine,
and, I warrant, when they see how soundly I have broke his head, 60
they’ll say ’t was done by no less man than a prince.

_Mason._ I cannot believe that this is the Prince of Wales.

_War._ And why so, sir? 65

_Mason._ For they say the prince is a brave and a wise gentleman.

_War._ Why, and think’st thou, doctor, that he is not so?
Dar’st thou detract and derogate from him,
Being so lovely and so brave a youth? 70

_Erms._ Whose face, shining with many a sug’red smile,
Bewrays that he is bred of princely race.

_Miles._ And yet, master doctor,
To speak like a proctor,
And tell unto you 75
What is veriment and true;
To cease of this quarrel,
Look but on his apparel;
Then mark but my talis.
He is great Prince of Walis, 80
The chief of our _gregis_,
And _filius regis_:
Then ’ware what is done,
For he is Henry’s white[208] son.

_Ralph._ Doctors, whose doting night-caps are (85) not capable of my
ingenious dignity, know that I am Edward Plantagenet, whom if you
displease will make a ship that shall hold all your colleges, and
so carry away the niniversity with a fair wind to the Bankside in
Southwark. (90) —How sayest thou, Ned Warren, shall I not do it?

_War._ Yes, my good lord; and, if it please your lordship, I will
gather up all your old pantofles, and with the cork[209] make you
a (95) pinnace of five-hundred ton, that shall serve the turn
marvellous well, my lord.

_Erms._ And I, my lord, will have pioners to undermine the town,
that the very gardens and orchards be carried away for your 100
summerwalks.

_Miles._ And I, with _scientia_
And great _diligentia_,
Will conjure and charm,
To keep you from harm; 105
That _utrum horum mavis_,
Your very great _navis_,
Like Barclay’s[210] ship,
From Oxford do skip
With colleges and schools, 110
Full-loaden with fools.
_Quid dicis ad hoc_,
Worshipful _Domine_ Dawcock?

_Clem._ Why, hare-brain’d courtiers, are you drunk or mad,
To taunt us up with such scurrility? 115
Deem you us men of base and light esteem,
To bring us such a fop for Henry’s son?—
Call out the beadles and convey them hence
Straight to Bocardo:[211] let the roisters lie
Close clapt in bolts, until their wits be tame. 120

_Erms._ Why, shall we to prison, my lord?

_Ralph._ What sayest, Miles, shall I honour the prison with my
presence?

_Miles._ No, no: out with your blades,
And hamper these jades; 125
Have a flurt and a crash,
Now play revel-dash,
And teach these sacerdos
That the Bocardos,
Like peasants and elves, 130
Are meet for themselves.

_Mason._ To the prison with them, constable.

_War._ Well, doctors, seeing I have sported me
With laughing at these mad and merry wags,
Know that Prince Edward is at Brazen-nose, 135
And this, attired like the Prince of Wales,
Is Ralph, King Henry’s only loved fool;
I, Earl of Sussex, and this Ermsby,
One of the privy-chamber to the king;
Who, while the prince with Friar Bacon stays,
Have revell’d it in Oxford as you see. 141

_Mason._ My lord, pardon us, we knew not what you were:
But courtiers may make greater scapes than these.
Wilt please your honour dine with me to-day?

_War._ I will, Master doctor, and satisfy (145) the vintner for his
hurt; only I must desire you to imagine him all this forenoon the
Prince of Wales.

_Mason._ I will, sir.

_Ralph._ And upon that I will lead the way; (150) only I will have
Miles go before me, because I have heard Henry say that wisdom must
go before majesty. _Exeunt._

[SCENE VIII.][212]

_Enter_ PRINCE EDWARD _with his poniard in his hand_, LACY, _and_ MARGARET.

_P. Edw._ Lacy, thou canst not shroud thy traitorous thoughts,
Nor cover, as did Cassius, all his wiles;
For Edward hath an eye that looks as far
As Lynceus from the shores of Græcia.
Did not I sit in Oxford by the friar, 5
And see thee court the maid of Fressingfield,
Sealing thy flattering fancies with a kiss?
Did not proud Bungay draw his portace forth,
And, joining hand in hand, had married you,
If Friar Bacon had not struck him dumb, 10
And mounted him upon a spirit’s back,
That we might chat at Oxford with the friar?
Traitor, what answer’st? Is not all this true?

_Lacy._ Truth all, my lord; and thus I make reply:
At Harleston fair, there courting for your grace,
Whenas mine eye survey’d her curious shape, 16
And drew the beauteous glory of her looks
To dive into the centre of my heart,
Love taught me that your honour did but jest,
That princes were in fancy[213] but as men; 20
How that the lovely maid of Fressingfield
Was fitter to be Lacy’s wedded wife
Than concubine unto the Prince of Wales.

_P. Edw._ Injurious Lacy, did I love thee more
Than Alexander his Hephæstion? 25
Did I unfold the passions of my love,
And lock them in the closet of thy thoughts?
Wert thou to Edward second to himself,
Sole friend, and partner of his secret loves?
And could a glance of fading beauty break 30
Th’ enchained fetters of such private friends?
Base coward, false, and too effeminate
To be corrival[214] with a prince in thoughts!
From Oxford have I posted since I din’d,
To quite a traitor ’fore that Edward sleep. 35

_Mar._ ’T was I, my lord, not Lacy stept awry:
For oft he su’d and courted for yourself,
And still woo’d for the courtier all in green;
But I, whom fancy made but over-fond,
Pleaded myself with looks as if I lov’d; 40
I fed mine eye with gazing on his face,
And still bewitch’d lov’d Lacy with my looks;
My heart with sighs, mine eyes pleaded with tears,
My face held pity and content at once,
And more I could not cipher-out by signs, 45
But that I lov’d Lord Lacy with my heart.
Then, worthy Edward, measure with thy mind
If women’s favours will not force men fall,
If beauty, and if darts of piercing love,
Are not of force to bury thoughts of friends. 50

_P. Edw._ I tell thee, Peggy, I will have thy loves;
Edward or none shall conquer Margaret
In frigates bottom’d with rich Sethin[215] planks,
Topt with the lofty firs of Lebanon,
Stemm’d and incas’d with burnish’d ivory, 55
And over-laid with plates of Persian wealth,
Like Thetis shalt thou wanton on the waves,
And draw the dolphins to thy lovely eyes,
To dance lavoltas in the purple streams:
Sirens, with harps and silver psalteries, 60
Shall wait with music at thy frigate’s stem,
And entertain fair Margaret with their lays.
England and England’s wealth shall wait on thee;
Britain shall bend unto her prince’s love,
And do due homage to thine excellence, 65
If thou wilt be but Edward’s Margaret.

_Mar._ Pardon, my lord: if Jove’s great royalty
Sent me such presents as to Danaë;
If Phœbus, tired in Latona’s webs,
Come courting from the beauty of his lodge; 70
The dulcet tunes of frolic Mercury,—
Nor all the wealth heaven’s treasury affords
Should make me leave Lord Lacy or his love.

_P. Edw._ I have learn’d at Oxford, then, this point of schools,—
_Ablata causa, tollitur effectus:_ 75
Lacy, the cause that Margaret cannot love
Nor fix her liking on the English prince,
Take him away, and then th’ effects will fail.
Villain, prepare thyself; for I will bathe
My poniard in the bosom of an earl. 80

_Lacy._ Rather than live, and miss fair Margaret’s love,
Prince Edward, stop not at the fatal doom,
But stab it home: end both my loves and life.

_Mar._ Brave Prince of Wales, honoured for royal deeds,
’Twere sin to stain fair Venus’ courts with blood; 85
Love’s conquest ends, my lord, in courtesy.
Spare Lacy, gentle Edward; let me die,
For so both you and he do cease your loves.

_P. Edw._ Lacy shall die as traitor to his lord.

_Lacy._ I have deserv’d it, Edward; act it well. 90

_Mar._ What hopes the prince to gain by Lacy’s death?

_P. Edw._ To end the loves ’twixt him and Margaret.

_Mar._ Why, thinks King Henry’s son that Margaret’s love
Hangs in th’ uncertain balance of proud time?
That death shall make a discord of our thoughts? 95
No, stab the earl, and, ’fore the morning sun
Shall vaunt him thrice over the lofty east,
Margaret will meet her Lacy in the heavens.

_Lacy._ If aught betides to lovely Margaret
That wrongs or wrings her honour from content, 100
Europe’s rich wealth nor England’s monarchy
Should not allure Lacy to over-live.
Then, Edward, short my life, and end her loves.

_Mar._ Rid[216] me, and keep a friend worth many loves.

_Lacy._ Nay, Edward, keep a love worth many friends. 105

_Mar._ An if thy mind be such as fame hath blaz’d,
Then, princely Edward, let us both abide
The fatal resolution of thy rage.
Banish thou fancy and embrace revenge,
And in one tomb knit both our carcases, 110
Whose hearts were linked in one perfect love.

_P. Edw._ [_aside._] Edward, art thou that famous Prince of Wales,
Who at Damasco beat the Saracens,
And brought’st home triumph on thy lance’s point?
And shall thy plumes be pull’d by Venus down? 115
Is’t princely to dissever lovers’ leagues,
To part such friends as glory in their loves?
Leave, Ned, and make a virtue of this fault,
And further Peg and Lacy in their loves:
So in subduing fancy’s passion, 120
Conquering thyself, thou gett’st the richest spoil.——-
Lacy, rise up. Fair Peggy, here’s my hand.
The Prince of Wales hath conquered all his thoughts,
And all his loves he yields unto the earl.
Lacy, enjoy the maid of Fressingfield; 125
Make her thy Lincoln Countess at the church,
And Ned, as he is true Plantagenet,
Will give her to thee frankly for thy wife.

_Lacy._ Humbly I take her of my sovereign,
As if that Edward gave me England’s right, 130
And rich’d me with the Albion diadem.

_Mar._ And doth the English prince mean true?
Will he vouchsafe to cease his former loves,
And yield the title of a country maid
Unto Lord Lacy? 135

_P. Edw._ I will, fair Peggy, as I am true lord.

_Mar._ Then, lordly sir, whose conquest is as great,
In conquering love, as Caesar’s victories,
Margaret, as mild and humble in her thoughts
As was Aspasia unto Cyrus’ self, 140
Yields thanks, and, next Lord Lacy, doth enshrine
Edward the second secret in her heart.

_P. Edw._ Gramercy, Peggy. Now that vows are past,
And that your loves are not to be revolt,[217]
Once, Lacy, friends again. Come, we will post
To Oxford; for this day the king is there, 145
And brings for Edward Castile Elinor.
Peggy, I must go see and view my wife:
I pray God I like her as I loved thee.
Beside, Lord Lincoln, we shall hear dispute 150
’Twixt Friar Bacon and learned Vandermast.
Peggy, we’ll leave you for a week or two.

_Mar._ As it please Lord Lacy; but love’s foolish looks
Think footsteps miles and minutes to be hours.

_Lacy._ I’ll hasten, Peggy, to make short return.—— 155
But please your honour go unto the lodge,
We shall have butter, cheese, and venison;
And yesterday I brought for Margaret
A lusty bottle of neat claret-wine:
Thus can we feast and entertain your grace. 160

_P. Edw._ ’Tis cheer, Lord Lacy, for an emperor,
If he respect the person and the place.
Come, let us in; for I will all this night
Ride post until I come to Bacon’s cell. _Exeunt._

[SCENE IX.][218]

_Enter_ KING HENRY, the EMPEROR, the KING OF CASTILE, ELINOR, VANDERMAST, _and_ BUNGAY.

_Emp._ Trust me, Plantagenet, these Oxford schools
Are richly seated near the river-side:
The mountains full of fat and fallow deer,
The battling[219] pastures lade with kine and flocks,
The town gorgeous with high-built colleges, 5
And scholars seemly in their grave attire,
Learned in searching principles of art.——
What is thy judgment, Jaques Vandermast?

_Van._ That lordly are the buildings of the town, 9
Spacious the rooms, and full of pleasant walks;
But for the doctors, how that they be learned,
It may be meanly, for aught I can hear.

_Bun._ I tell thee, German, Hapsburg holds none such,
None read so deep as Oxenford contains.
There are within our academic state 15
Men that may lecture it in Germany
To all the doctors of your Belgic schools.

_K. Hen._ Stand to him, Bungay, charm this Vandermast,
And I will use thee as a royal king.

_Van._ Wherein darest thou dispute with me? 20

_Bun._ In what a doctor and a friar can.

_Van._ Before rich Europe’s worthies put thou forth
The doubtful question unto Vandermast.

_Bun._ Let it be this,—Whether the spirits of pyromancy or geomancy
be most predominant (25) in magic?

_Van._ I say, of pyromancy.

_Bun._ And I, of geomancy.

_Van._ The cabalists that write of magic spells,
As Hermes, Melchie, and Pythagoras, 30
Affirm that, ’mongst the quadruplicity
Of elemental essence, _terra_ is but thought
To be a _punctum_ squared[220] to the rest;
And that the compass of ascending elements
Exceed in bigness as they do in height; 35
Judging the concave circle of the sun
To hold the rest in his circumference.
If, then, as Hermes says, the fire be great’st,
Purest, and only giveth shape to spirits,
Then must these dæmones that haunt that place
Be every way superior to the rest. 41

_Bun._ I reason not of elemental shapes,
Nor tell I of the concave latitudes,
Noting their essence nor their quality,
But of the spirits that pyromancy calls, 45
And of the vigour of the geomantic fiends.
I tell thee, German, magic haunts the ground,
And those strange necromantic spells,
That work such shows and wondering in the world,
Are acted by those geomantic spirits 50
That Hermes calleth _terræ filii_.
The fiery spirits are but transparent shades,
That lightly pass as heralds to bear news;
But earthly fiends, clos’d in the lowest deep,
Dissever mountains, if they be but charg’d, 55
Being more gross and massy in their power.

_Van._ Rather these earthly geomantic spirits
Are dull and like the place where they remain;
For when proud Lucifer fell from the heavens,
The spirits and angels that did sin with him, 60
Retain’d their local essence as their faults,
All subject under Luna’s continent.
They which offended less hang in the fire,
And second faults did rest within the air;
But Lucifer and his proud-hearted fiends 65
Were thrown into the centre of the earth,
Having less understanding than the rest,
As having greater sin and lesser grace.
Therefore such gross and earthly spirits do serve
For jugglers, witches, and vile sorcerers; 70
Whereas the pyromantic genii
Are mighty, swift, and of far-reaching power.
But grant that geomancy hath most force;
Bungay, to please these mighty potentates,
Prove by some instance what thy art can do. 75

_Bun._ I will.

_Emp._ Now, English Harry, here begins the game;
We shall see sport between these learned men.

_Van._ What wilt thou do?

_Bun._ Show thee the tree, leav’d with refined gold, 80
Whereon the fearful dragon held his seat,
That watch’d the garden call’d Hesperides,
Subdu’d and won by conquering Hercules.

_Van._ Well done!

_Here_ BUNGAY _conjures, and the tree appears with the dragon shooting fire._

_K. Hen._ What say you, royal lordings, to my friar? 85
Hath he not done a point of cunning skill?

_Van._ Each scholar in the necromantic spells
Can do as much as Bungay hath perform’d.
But as Alcmena’s bastard raz’d this tree,
So will I raise him up as when he liv’d, 90
And cause him pull the dragon from his seat,
And tear the branches piecemeal from the root.—
Hercules! _Prodi, prodi_, Hercules!

HERCULES _appears in his lion’s skin._

_Her. Quis me vult?_

_Van._ Jove’s bastard son, thou Libyan Hercules, 95
Pull off the sprigs from off the Hesperian tree,
As once thou didst to win the golden fruit.

_Her. Fiat._ _Begins to break the branches._

_Van._ Now, Bungay, if thou canst by magic charm
The fiend, appearing like great Hercules, 100
From pulling down the branches of the tree,
Then art thou worthy to be counted learned.

_Bun._ I cannot.

_Van._ Cease, Hercules, until I give thee charge.—
Mighty commander of this English isle, 105
Henry, come from the stout Plantagenets,
Bungay is learn’d enough to be a friar;
But to compare with Jaques Vandermast,
Oxford and Cambridge must go seek their cells
To find a man to match him in his art. 110
I have given nonplus to the Paduans,
To them of Sien, Florence, and Bologna,
Rheims, Louvain, and fair Rotterdam,
Frankfort, Lutetia,[221] and Orleans:
And now must Henry, if he do me right, 115
Crown me with laurel, as they all have done.

_Enter_ BACON.

_Bacon._ All hail to this royal company,
That sit to hear and see this strange dispute!—
Bungay, how stand’st thou as a man amaz’d?
What, hath the German acted more than thou? 120

_Van._ What art thou that questions thus?

_Bacon._ Men call me Bacon.

_Van._ Lordly thou look’st, as if that thou wert learn’d;
Thy countenance as if science held her seat
Between the circled archers of thy brows. 125

_K. Hen._ Now, monarchs, hath the German found his match.

_Emp._ Bestir thee, Jaques, take not now the foil,
Lest thou dost lose what foretime thou didst gain.

_Van._ Bacon, wilt thou dispute?

_Bacon._ No, 130
Unless he were more learn’d than Vandermast:
For yet, tell me, what hast thou done?

_Van._ Rais’d Hercules to ruinate that tree
That Bungay mounted by his magic spells.

_Bacon._ Set Hercules to work. 135

_Van._ Now, Hercules, I charge thee to thy task;
Pull off the golden branches from the root.

_Her._ I dare not. See’st thou not great Bacon here,
Whose frown doth act more than thy magic can?

_Van._ By all the thrones, and dominations, 140
Virtues, powers, and mighty hierarchies,
I charge thee to obey to Vandermast.

_Her._ Bacon, that bridles headstrong Belcephon,
And rules Asmenoth, guider of the north,
Binds me from yielding unto Vandermast. 145

_K. Hen._ How now, Vandermast! Have you met with your match?

_Van._ Never before was’t known to Vandermast
That men held devils in such obedient awe.
Bacon doth more than art, or else I fail. 150

_Emp._ Why, Vandermast, art then overcome?—
Bacon, dispute with him, and try his skill.

_Bacon._ I come not, monarchs, for to hold dispute
With such a novice as is Vandermast;
I came to have your royalties to dine 155
With Friar Bacon here in Brazen-nose;
And, for this German troubles but the place,
And holds this audience with a long suspence,
I’ll send him to his academy hence.—— 159
Thou Hercules, whom Vandermast did raise,
Transport the German unto Hapsburg straight,
That he may learn by travail, ’gainst the spring,
More secret dooms and aphorisms of art.
Vanish the tree, and thou away with him!

_Exit the spirit_ [_of_ HERCULES] _with_ VANDERMAST _and the tree._

_Emp._ Why, Bacon, whither dost thou send him? (165)

_Bacon._ To Hapsburg; there your highness at return
Shall find the German in his study safe.

_K. Hen._ Bacon, thou hast honour’d England with thy skill,
And made fair Oxford famous by thine art;
I will be English Henry to thyself. 170
But tell me, shall we dine with thee to-day?

_Bacon._ With me, my lord; and while I fit my cheer,
See where Prince Edward comes to welcome you.
Gracious as the morning-star of heaven. _Exit._

_Enter_ [PRINCE] EDWARD, LACY, WARREN, ERMSBY.

_Emp._ Is this Prince Edward, Henry’s royal son? 175
How martial is the figure of his face!
Yet lovely and beset with amorets.[222]

_K. Hen._ Ned, where hast thou been?

_P. Edw._ At Framlingham, my lord, to try your bucks
If they could scape the teasers[223] or the toil. 180
But hearing of these lordly potentates
Landed, and progress’d up to Oxford town,
I posted to give entertain to them:
Chief, to the Almain monarch; next to him,
And joint with him, Castile and Saxony 185
Are welcome as they may be to the English court.
Thus for the men: but see, Venus appears,
Or one that overmatcheth Venus in her shape!
Sweet Elinor, beauty’s high-swelling pride,
Rich nature’s glory and her wealth at once, 190
Fair of all fairs, welcome to Albion;
Welcome to me, and welcome to thine own,
If that thou deign’st the welcome from myself.

_Elin._ Martial Plantagenet, Henry’s high-minded son,
The mark that Elinor did count her aim, 195
I lik’d thee ’fore I saw thee: now I love,
And so as in so short a time I may;
Yet so as time shall never break that so,
And therefore so accept of Elinor.

_K. of Cast._ Fear not, my lord, this couple will agree, 200
If love may creep into their wanton eyes:——
And therefore, Edward, I accept thee here,
Without suspence, as my adopted son.

_K. Hen._ Let me that joy in these consorting greets,
And glory in these honours done to Ned, 205
Yield thanks for all these favours to my son,
And rest a true Plantagenet to all.

_Enter_ MILES _with a cloth and trenchers and salt._

_Miles. Salvete, omnes reges_,
That govern your _greges_
In Saxony and Spain, 210
In England and in Almain!
For all this frolic rabble
Must I cover the table
With trenchers, salt, and cloth;
And then look for your broth. 215

_Emp._ What pleasant fellow is this?

_K. Hen._ ’Tis, my lord, Doctor Bacon’s poor scholar.

_Miles._ [_aside._] My master hath made me sewer[224] of these great
lords; and, God knows, (220) I am as serviceable at a table as a
sow is under an apple-tree. ’T is no matter; their cheer shall not
be great, and therefore what skills where the salt stand, before or
behind? [_Exit._]

_K. of Cast._ These scholars know more skill in axioms, 225
How to use quips and sleights of sophistry,
Than for to cover courtly for a king.

_Re-enter_ MILES _with a mess of pottage and broth; and, after him_, BACON.

_Miles._ Spill, sir? why, do you think I never
carried twopenny chop[225] before in my life?——
By your leave, _nobile decus_, 230
For here comes Doctor Bacon’s _pecus_,
Being in his full age
To carry a mess of pottage.

_Bacon._ Lordings, admire[226] not if your cheer be this,
For we must keep our academic fare; 235
No riot where philosophy doth reign:
And therefore, Henry, place these potentates,
And bid them fall unto their frugal cates.

_Emp._ Presumptuons friar! What, scoff’st thou at a king?
What, dost thou taunt us with thy peasants’ fare, 240
And give us cates fit for country swains?——
Henry, proceeds this jest of thy consent,
To twit us with[227] a pittance of such price?
Tell me and Frederick will not grieve thee long.

_K. Hen._ By Henry’s honour, and the royal faith 245
The English monarch beareth to his friend,
I knew not of the friar’s feeble fare,
Nor am I pleas’d he entertains you thus.

_Bacon._ Content thee, Frederick, for I show’d the cates,
To let thee see how scholars use to feed; 250
How little meat refines our English wits.——
Miles, take away, and let it be thy dinner.

_Miles._ Marry, sir, I will.
This day shall be a festival-day with me;
For I shall exceed in the highest degree. [_Exit._]

_Bacon._ I tell thee, monarch, all the German peers 256
Could not afford thy entertainment such,
So royal and so full of majesty,
As Bacon will present to Frederick.
The basest waiter that attends thy cups 260
Shall be in honours greater than thyself;
And for thy cates, rich Alexandria drugs,[228]
Fetch’d by carvels from Egypt’s richest straits,
Found in the wealthy strand of Africa,
Shall royalize the table of my king; 265
Wines richer than th’ Egyptian courtesan
Quaff’d to Augustus’ kingly countermatch,
Shall be carous’d in English Henry’s feast;
Candy shall yield the richest of her canes;
Persia, down her Volga by canoes, 270
Send down the secrets of her spicery;
The Afric dates, myrobalans[229] of Spain,
Conserves and suckets[230] from Tiberias,
Cates from Judaea, choicer than the lamp[231]
That fired Rome with sparks of gluttony, 275
Shall beautify the board for Frederick:
And therefore grudge not at a friar’s feast. [_Exeunt._]

[SCENE X.][232]

_Enter two gentlemen_, LAMBERT _and_ SERLSBY, _with the_ Keeper.

_Lam._ Come, frolic Keeper of our liege’s game,
Whose table spread hath ever venison
And jacks[233] of wine to welcome passengers,
Know I’m in love with jolly Margaret,
That overshines our damsels as the moon 5
Dark’neth the brightest sparkles of the night.
In Laxfield here my land and living lies:
I’ll make thy daughter jointer[234] of it all,
So thou consent to give her to my wife;
And I can spend five hundred marks a-year. 10

_Ser._ I am the lands-lord. Keeper, of thy holds,
By copy all thy living lies in me;
Laxfield did never see me raise my due:
I will enfeoff fair Margaret in all,
So she will take her to a lusty squire. 15

_Keep._ Now, courteous gentles, if the Keeper’s girl
Hath pleas’d the liking fancy of you both,
And with her beauty hath subdu’d your thoughts,
’Tis doubtful to decide the question.
It joys me that such men of great esteem 20
Should lay their liking on this base estate,
And that her state should grow so fortunate
To be a wife to meaner men than you.
But sith such squires will stoop to keeper’s fee,[235]
I will, to avoid displeasure of you both, 25
Call Margaret forth, and she shall make her choice. _Exit._

_Lam._ Content, Keeper; send her unto us.
Why, Serlsby, is thy wife so lately dead,
Are all thy loves so lightly passed over,
As thou canst wed before the year be out? 30

_Ser._ I live not, Lambert, to content the dead,
Nor was I wedded but for life to her:
The grave ends and begins a married state.

_Enter_ MARGARET.

_Lam._ Peggy, the lovely flower of all towns,
Suffolk’s fair Helen, and rich England’s star, 35
Whose beauty, tempered with her huswifery,
Makes England talk of merry Fressingfield!

_Ser._ I cannot trick it up with poesies,
Nor paint my passions with comparisons,
Nor tell a tale of Phœbus and his loves: 40
But this believe me,—Laxfield here is mine,
Of ancient rent seven hundred pounds a-year,
And if thou canst but love a country squire,
I will enfeoff thee, Margaret, in all.
I cannot flatter; try me, if thou please. 45

_Mar._ Brave neighbouring squires, the stay of Suffolk’s clime,
A keeper’s daughter is too base in gree[236]
To match with men accounted of such worth:
But might I not displease, I would reply.

_Lam._ Say, Peggy; naught shall make us discontent. 50

_Mar._ Then, gentles, note that love hath little stay,
Nor can the flames that Venus sets on fire
Be kindled but by fancy’s motion:
Then pardon, gentles, if a maid’s reply,
Be doubtful, while[237] I have debated with myself, 55
Who, or of whom, love shall constrain me like.

_Ser._ Let it be me; and trust me, Margaret,
The meads environed with the silver streams,
Whose battling pastures fatt’neth all my flocks,
Yielding forth fleeces stapled with such wool 60
As Leominster[238] cannot yield more finer stuff,
And forty kine with fair and burnish’d heads,
With strouting[239] dugs that paggle[240] to the ground,
Shall serve thy dairy, if thou wed with me.