 | The Italian Taylor, and his Boy |  |
Cant. 6.
Argument
Here comming, doth present his cure,To accomplish further spight:
And doth vp throw his loftie lure,
Whereon the Hauke should light:
But the Birds eye well sees and knowes
The Partriges from carrion Crowes.
Begins to bragge his health.
The Doctor further doth assure
Himselfe of loue and wealth:
Their King shall by his art,
Enioy a further princely scope,
Then health could yet impart:
Who but this Doctor, through the land,
Was prayed for euery where,
Who by his art did vnderstand
His Boy disguis'd was there;
Intendes to meete him in that shape
Who yet thinkes little so,
Vntill report betrayde the scape
Of his presuming foe.
Now slumbers on the Princesse finger,
As her dearest Iem;
While this thrice happy tydings bringer,
Thus awakened them.
Who comming, while the King in bed
Lay wayting life or death:
The Ring nought hearing, litle said,
It wanted life and breath,
Till it transform'd to man againe,
Should heare what came to passe:
And as it seem'd, it did remaine
A Rubie shining, t'wasse.
The amorous Princesse now attired,
Comes to the crased King:
Whose blessing when she had desired,
She presents her Ring:
And with no vulgar complement
Diuulg'd, and did extole
The beautie, vertue, excellent,
With ioy and earnest soule.
The Doctor standing by,
“Sayd, if I cure your Graces Feauer,
“You can not deny,
“But I shall haue what I will aske,
“In guerdion of my skill.”
“T'is true, (the King sayes) to this taske,
“I binde my royall Will.”
“Why then prepare (the Doctor sayes)
“This Rubie Ring for me;
“I am inamor'd of the prayse,
“And mine the same shall be.”
“I that, and what else (sayes the King)
“My kingdome can afford,
“Is thine, my former health to bring,
“Thereto I passe my word.”
“How can it be (the Princesse sayes)
“Our Father will bestow
“What is not his, to length his dayes?
“Although I duetie owe,
“And (as a child) should part with all,
“Your health to re-obtaine;
“It is my life that he doth call,
“To recompence his paine:
“And mine is dearer vnto mee,
“Then yours, or thousands moe.
“What touches life, is still, you see,
“Our owne thus to bestow.
“Then pardon me to keepe my life,
“(I meane this Rubie Ring)
“Vnlesse to him that cals me wife,
“I doe this treasure bring.”
Cryes, treason to his blood:
“For the (sayth he) that should be chiefe,
“(Obedience vnderstood)
“Is now neglectfull: woe to thee,
“Thou monster in thy birth:
“My daughter? no, to disagree.
“On matter, though of wirth,
“Yet nothing in respect of vs,
“When life lies at the stake:
“Giue me the Ring thou reekinst thus,
“Bestow it for my sake.”
“Nay then your Maiestie doth doate,
“And I (quoth she) will not.”
“You of his counsell; pray you noate,
“The Doctor sayes: but that
“Is't possible such petite price,
“Should be of such esteeme?
“Why I aduenture on the dice
“Of Fortune, and cast them
“To vtmost heigth of all the chaunce,
“Perhaps my soule is gage,
“Your highnes person to aduance:
“And shall, ill, thus presage.
“Then Knowledge in obliuion turne,
“And Art with Studie end:
“My prayses perish, Bookes shall burne,
“All slacke what I intend:
“If I had askt the Diademe
“To weare it as mine owne;
“Thus Kinglike to commaund the Realme,
“It had not been bestowne,
“I am so soone neclected:
“If in a motion of more grace,
“How had I been respected:
“I will begone, tis time I trow,
“Accurst my comming hither.
“When kindnes imps his wing so low,
“In fracture of this Feather,”
The Doctor flinges aside in rage:
Whereat the King amazde
Cals him againe: whose sullen age,
When it o'th Princesse gazde,
He darted furie from his eyes,
Which shot the Daughter through:
But when she thought vpon the prize
She reackt no anger now:
“Shoot on (sayes she) here is my heart,
“Deare Father, hit it dead;
“Before from this I euer part,
“Come mischiefe on my head:
“I'fayth I will not so perswade.”
(And offerd to be gone)
“Stay (sayth the King) thou cruell Mayde.
“Thou shalt not goe alone,
“To prison take her, shut her vp
“From sight of day or sunne,
“Since by her nay, this night I sup
“With ruine, thus vndone.
“What hope haue I to haue my cure,
“When knowledge is rewarded,
“And hath no vantage to assure
“On promise so awarded:
“There let her pine and die;
“Since their obedience giues to leese,
“What children owe thereby.
“Shall I haue any in my land;
“Nay of my flesh and blood,
“That will nay dare so soone withstand
“The motion wee thinke good?
“Why now mee thinkes I am recur'd,
“And lustier then before:
“And shall not such small loue secur'd
“Be graunted much the more?
“I'll giue thee for that petite Ring,
“A million of Treasure:
“Nay, cursed as I am thy King,
“I will commaund my pleasure:
“Yet humbly, as I am thy father,
“I request and craue;
“Thou art my child, so much the rather,
“Let me aske, and haue.”
The Flint by this, was pierc'd with raine,
The Marble of her minde
Began to yeeld, that she againe
Relented, and was kinde.
“To morrow (sayes she) you shall heare
“My resolutions doome:
“Till then, be passified to beare
“For charitie, I'le come.”
The King receiues her in his armes,
“I pre-thee child, sayes hee,
“(And kisses her) auoyde the harmes,
“That howerly threaten mee:
“And therefore for to liue,
“Vouchsafe thy Ring, the guift's no cheat,
“That I intreat thee giue:
“Part from it willingly, kind Daughter,
“Well I know thy heart
“Affectes it dearely; yet my slaughter
“Dearer is in part.”
At this she smil'd, and answer'd, well:
As if a man should say,
These flattries wins nor heauen nor hell
And so she goes her way:
But as she turn'd her out of sight
She castes a bitter looke
Vpon the Doctor, as she might,
But he pour'd on his booke,
As melancholy Students doo,
Whose practise well they know,
Doth want both meanes and matter too,
Yet they must brooke it thoe.
The sithing King sayes, “Courage man,
“Be frolick, tis thy Ring
“And I am thine to boote: what than
“May thy discomfort bring?
“Shall we that all commaund, be thus
“Neclected in a toy?
“No, aske a Countrey next of vs,
“And give that to thy Boy.”
That word brought blood into his face,
Which was before so paile.
“Thought he, how near me comes your Grace,
“Ore him I shall preuaile:
“And if I get this Ring,
“His shape of Boy, I'le circumuent,
“He shall be no such thing.
Home comes the Princesse, and all sad.
She throwes her on the bed;
“Alas (sayes she) I shall run mad,
“Such wiles are in my head:
“Oh tis my Finger that poynts to it;
“Tis, it is my Ring;
“And tis a Father, he doth do it,
“Tis a cruell King:
“What is he liuing else but he,
“That would his Daughter thrall,
“To subiugate himselfe and me,
“Vnto his Vrinall?
“To one whose skill is but as shreads,
“That cunning workemen cut;
“Not Art-professing skilfull heads,
“But more imposture put,
“A mountie bancke our Poet saies,
“Described by his Foxe,
“That sips vp Wine, wherein dead Flies
“Remaine in drowned floxe:
“A Quacksaluer, a Pedagoge,
“A Phisicke cheating knaue,
“A Poysoner, and a cunning Roge,
“To Vertue young and graue:
“One that trots about the land,
“His Budget at his backe,
“As Tinkers, hammering in their hand
“A Kettle with a cracke.
“And Charitie forgiue!
“I am ashamde vnreuerently,
“Such slaues as he, should liue.”
She wets her finger from her lips,
And rubs it about the Ring,
And mildly off the Rubie slips,
That's graunted to the King,
“Lie there (sayes she) vnworthy I,
“To gaine so ritch a Iem,
“That am inforc'd by flatterie,
“To yeeld thee vp to them.”
| The Italian Taylor, and his Boy | |