University of Virginia Library

Actus. 3.

Scena. 1.

Promos, alone.
Pro.
Do what I can, no reason cooles desire,
The more I striue, my fonde affectes to tame:
The hotter (oh) I feele, a burning fire
Within my breast, vaine thoughts to forge and frame.
O straying effectes, of blinde affected Loue,
From wisdomes pathes, which doth astraye our wittes:
Which makes vs haunt, that which our harmes doth moue,
A sicknesse lyke, the Feuer Etticke fittes:
Which shakes with colde, when we do burne like fire.
Euen so in Loue, we freese, through chilling feare,
When as our hartes, doth frye with hote desire:
What saide I? lyke to Etticke fittes, nothing neare:
In sowrest Loue, some sweete is euer suckt.
The Louer findeth peace, in wrangling strife,
So that if paine, were from his pleasure pluckt.
There were no Heauen, like to the Louers life.
But why stande I to pleade, their ioye or woe?
And rest vnsure, of hir I wish to haue,
I knowe not if Cassandra loue, or no?
But yet admytte, she graunt not what I craue,
If I be nyce, to hir brother lyfe to giue:

Might masters right.

Hir brothers life, too much wyll make hir yeelde,
A promise then, to let hir brother lyue:
Hath force inough, to make hir flie the fielde.
Thus though sute fayle, necessitie shall wyn,
Of Lordlie rule, the conquering power is such:
But (oh sweete sight) see where she enters in,
Both hope and dreade, at once my harte doth tuch.

Scena. 2.

Cassandra, Promos.
Cassandra Speakes to her selfe.
Cass.
Shee kneeling speaks to Promos.

Pro.
Faire Dame, I wel haue wayd thy sute, & wish to do thee good,
But all in vaine, al things conclude, to haue thy brothers blood:
The stricknes of the lawe condempnes, an ignoraunt abuse,
Then wylfull faultes are hardlie helpt, or cloked with excuse:
And what maye be more wylfull, then a Maide to violate.

Cas.
The force was smal, when with hir wyl, he wretch ye conquest gate.

Pro.
Lawe euer at the worst, doth conster euyl intent.

Cas.
And lawe euen with the worst, awardes them punishment:
And sith that rigorous lawe adiudgd him to dye,
Your glorie will be much the more, in showing him mercie.
The world wil think, how yt you do, but graūt him grace on cause,
And where cause is, there mercy should abate the force of lawes.

Pro.
Cassandra in thy brothers halfe, thou hast sayde what may be
And for thy sake, it is, if I doe set Andrugio free:
Short tale to make, thy beauty hath, surprysed mee with loue,
That maugre wit, I turne my thoughts, as blynd affections moue.
And quite subdude by Cupids might, neede makes mee sue for grace
To thee Cassandra, which doest holde, my freedome in a lace.
Yeelde to my will, and then commaund, euen what thou wilt of mee,
Thy brothers life, and all that else, may with thy liking gree.

Cas.
And may it be, a Iudge himself, the selfe same fault should vse:
Cassādra to hir self.
For which he domes, an others death, O crime without excuse.
Renowned Lorde, you vse this speach (I hope) your thrall to trye,
If otherwise, my brothers life, so deare I will not bye.

Pro.
Faire Dame my outward looks, my inward thoughts bewray,
If you mistrust, to search my harte, would God you had a kaye.

Cas.
If that you loue (as so you saye) the force of loue you know,
Which fealt, in conscience you should, my brother fauour show.

Pro.
In doubtfull warre, one prisoner still, doth set another free.

Cas.
UUhat so warre seekes, loue vnto warre, contrary is, you see.
Hate fostreth warre, loue cannot hate, then maye it couet force.

Pro.
The Louer ofte sues to his foe, and findeth no remorse:
Then if he hap to haue a helpe, to wyn his frowarde foe,
Too kinde a foole, I will him holde, that lets such vantage goe.

Cas.
Well, to be short, my selfe wyll dye, ere I my honor staine,
You know my minde, leaue off to tempt, your offers are in vaine.

Pro.
Bethink your self, at price inough I purchase sweet your loue,
Andrugios life suffis'd alone, your straungenes to remoue:
The which I graunt, with any wealth that else you wyll require,
Who buyeth loue at such a rate, payes well for his desire.

Cas.
No Promos, no, honor neuer at value maye be solde,
Honor farre dearer is then life, which passeth price of golde:

Pro.
To buie this Iuell at the full, my wife I may thee make:

Cas.
For vnsure hope, that peereles pearle, I neuer will forsake:

Pro.
These sutes seemes strange at first I see, wher modesty beares sway,
To himself.
I therfore wil set down my wyll, & for hir answer staye.
Tyl then adue, thou these my words, in works perform'd shalt find.

Cas.
Farewel my Lord, but in this sute, you bootles wast your wind:
Cassandra, O most vnhappy, subiect to euerie woe,
What tōgue can tel, what thought cōceiue, what pen thy griefe can show?
Whom to scurge, Nature, heauē & earth, do heapes of thral ordain,
Whose words in waste, whose works are lost, whose wishes are in vain.
That which to others cōfort yeelds, doth cause my heuy cheer,
I meane my beautie breedes my bale, which many hold so deere.
I woulde to God that kinde else where, bestowed had this blase,
My vertues then had wrought regard, my shape now giues ye gase:
This forme so Promos fiers with Loue, as wisdom can not quench,
His hote desire, tyll he lust, in Venus seas hath drencht.

At these wordes Ganio must be readie to speake.

Scena. 3.

Ganio, Andrugios boye. Cassandra.
Ga.
Mistres Cassandra, my Master lōgs to heare of your good speed,

Cas.
Poore Ganio his death alas, fierce Fortune hath decreed:

Ga.
His death: God forbyd, all his hope should turne to such successe,
For Gods sake, go and comfort him, I sorrowe his distresse.

Cas.
I needes must go, although with heauy cheere.

Ga.
Sir, your syster Cassandra is here.

Exit.

Scena. 4.

Andrugio out of prison. Cassandra on the stage.
An.
My Cassandra what newes, good sister showe?

Cas.
All thinges conclude thy death Andrugio:
Prepare thy selfe, to hope it ware in vaine.

An.
My death, alas what raysed this new disdayne?

Cas.
Not Iustice zeale, in wicked Promos sure:

An.
Sweete, show the cause, I must this dome indure?

Cas.
If thou dost liue I must my honor lose,
Thy raunsome is, to Promos fleshly wyll
That I do yelde: then which I rather chose,
With torments sharpe, my selfe he first should kyll:
Thus am I bent, thou seest thy death at hand,
O would my life, would satisfie his yre,
Cassandra then, would cancell soone thy band.

An.
And may it be a Iudge of his account,
Can spot his minde, with lawles loue or lust?
But more, may he doome any fault with death?
When in such faute, he findes himselfe iniust.
Syster, that wise men loue we often see,
And where loue rules, gainst thornes doth reason spurne.
But who so loues, if he reiected be,
His passing loue, to peeuish hate will turne.
Deare sister then, note how my fortune stands,
That Promos loue, the like is oft in vse:
And sith he craue, this kindnesse, at your hands,
Thinke this, if you his pleasure do refuse.
I in his rage (poore wretch) shall sing Peccaui.
Here are two euyls, the best harde to digest,
But where as things are driuen vnto necessity,
There are we byd, of both euyls choose the least:

Cas.
And of these euils, the least, I hold is death,
To shun whose dart, we can no meane deuise,
Yet honor lyues, when death hath done his worst,
Thus fame then lyfe is of farre more emprise:

An.
Nay Cassandra, if thou thy selfe submyt,
To saue my life, to Promos fleashly wyll,
Iustice wyll say, thou dost no cryme commit:
For in forst faultes is no intent of yll.

Cass.
How so th'intent, is construed in offence,
The Prouerbe saies, that tenne good turnes lye dead,
And one yll deede, tenne tymes beyonde pretence,
By enuious tounges, report abrode doth spread:
Andrugio so, my fame, shall vallewed bee,
Dispite wyll blase my crime, but not the cause:
And thus although I fayne would set thee free,
Poore wench I feare, the grype of slaunders pawes.

An.
Nay sweete sister more slaunder would infame,
Your spotles lyfe, to reaue your brothers breath:
When you haue powre, for to enlarge the same,
Once in your handes, doth lye my lyfe, and death.
Way that I am, the selfe same flesh you are,
Thinke I once gone, our house will goe to wrack:
Knowe forced faultes, for slaunder neede not care:
Looke you for blame, if I quaile through your lack.
Consider well, my great extremitie,
If other wise, this doome I could reuoke:
I would not spare, for any ieberdye:
To free thee wench, from this same heauy yoke.
But ah I see, else, no way saues my life.
And yet his hope, may further thy consent,
He sayde, he maye percase make thee his wife,
And t'is likelie, he can not be content
With one nights ioye: if loue he after seekes,
And I dischargd, if thou aloofe then be,
Before he lose thy selfe, that so he leekes,
No dought but he, to marryage, wyll agree.

Cas.
And shall I sticke to stoupe, to Promos wyll,
Since my brother inioyeth lyfe thereby?
No, although it doth my credit kyll,
Ere that he should, my selfe would chuse to dye.
My Andrugio, take comfort in distresse,
Cassandra is wonne, thy raunsome great to paye,
Such care she hath, thy thraldome to releace:
As she consentes, her honor for to slay.
Farewell, I must, my virgins weedes forsake:
And lyke a page, to Promos lewde repayre.

Exit.
An.
My good sister to God I thee betake,
To whome I pray, that comforte change thy care.

Scena. 5.

Phallax alone.
Phal.
Tis more then straunge, to see Lord Promos plight,
He fryskes abought, as byrdes ware in his breech.
Euen now he seemes (through hope) to taste delight,
And straight (through feare) where he clawes it doth not ytch.
He museth now, strayght wayes the man doth sing.
(A sight in sooth, vnseemely for his age:)
He longing lookes, when any newes shal bring,
To speake with him, without there waytes a page,
O worthy wit (fyt for a Iudges head)
Unto a man to chaunge a shiftles mayde,
Wyncke not on me, twas his, and not my deede:
His, nay, his rule, this Metamorphos made,
But Holla tongue, no more of this I pray,
Non bonus est, ludere cum sanctis.
The quietest, and the thryftiest course they say,
Is, not to checke, but prayse great mens amys,
I finde it true, for soothing Promos vaine:
None lyke my selfe, is lykte in his conceyte,
While fauour last, then good, I fish for gaine:
(For Grace wyll not byte alwayes at my bayte)
And as I wish, at hande, good Fortune, see:
Here coms Phallax, and Gripax, but what's this,
As good, as fayre handsell, God graunt it bee:
The knaues bring a Woman, Coram nobis.

Scena. 6.

Phallax, Gripax, Rapax, a Bedell, and one with a browne Byll, bring in Lamia, and Rosko hir man.
La.
Teare not my clothes my friends, they cost more thē you are a ware,

Be.
Tush, soon you shal haue a blew gown, for these take you no care

Ro.
If she tooke thy offer poore knaue, thy wife would starue wt cold:

Gri.
Well syr, whipping shall keepe you warme.

Phal.
What meanes these knaues to scolde.

Ra.
Maister Phallax, we finde you in good time,
A VVoman here, we haue brought afore you:
One to be chargde with many a wanton crime.
Which tryall will, with proofe inough finde true:
A knaue of hirs, we haue stayed likewise,
Both to be vs'd, as you shall vs aduise.

Phal.
What call you hir name?

Ra.
Lamia.

Phal.
Faire Dame, hereto what do you saye?

La.
Worshipfull Sir, my selfe I happy reake,
UUith patience that my aunswer you will heare:
These naughtie men, these wordes on mallice speake,
And for this cause, yll wyll to me they beare.
I scornde to keepe, their mindes with money playe,
I meane to keepe, my life from open shame,
Yea, if I lyu'd, as lewdlie as they saye:
But I that knewe, my selfe vnworthy shame:
Shrunk not, to come vnto my triall nowe,
My tale is tolde, conceyue as lyketh you.

Phal.
My friends, what proofe haue you against this dame?
Speake on sure ground, least that you reape the shame:
The wrong is great, and craues great recompence.
To touch her honest name, without offence.

Gri.
All Iulio Syr doth ryng of her lewd lyfe:

Byl.
In deede she is knowne for an ydle huswife.

Ros.
He lyes, she is occupied day and night.

Phal.
To sweare against her is there any wight?

Ra.
No, not present, but if you do detayne her,
There wilbe found by oth, some that wyll stayne her,

Phal.
I see she is then on suspition stayde:
Whose fawltes to search, vpon my charge is layde,
From charge of her I therfore will set you free,
My selfe will search her faultes if any be,
A Gods name you may depart.

2 or. 3.
speake,
God bwy Syr.

Gri.
In such shares as this, henceforth I will begin,
For all is his, in his clawes, that commeth in.

Exeunt.
Phal.
Fayre Lamia, since that we are alone,
I plainely wyll discourse to you my minde,
I thinke you not to be so chast a one,
As that your lyfe, this fauor ought to fynde:
No force, for that, since that you scot free goe,
Unpunished, whose life is iudged yll:
Yet thinke (through loue) this grace the Iudge doth show,
And loue with loue ought to be answered styll.

La.
Indeede I graunt (although I could reproue,
Their lewde Complayntes, with goodnesse of my lyfe)
Your curtesy, your detter doth me proue,
In that you tooke (my honest fame in stryfe,)
My aunswere for discharge of their report:
For which good turne, I at your pleasure rest,
To worke amends, in any honest sort:

Phal.
Away with honesty, your answeare then in sooth,
Fyts me as iumpe as a pudding a Friars mouth,

Ros.
He is a craftie childe, dally, but do not.

La.
Tush, I warrant thee, I am not so whot,
Your wordes are too harde Sir, for me to conster.

Phal.
Then to be short, your rare bewtie my hart hath wounded so,
As (saue your loue, become my leach) I sure shall die with woe.

La.
I see no signe of death, in your face to appeare,
Tis but some vsuall qualme you haue, pitifull Dames to feare.

Phal.
Faire Lamia, trust me I faine not, betimes bestow som grace.

La.
Well, I admit it so, onelie to argue in your case.
I am maried, so that to set your loue on me were vaine:

Phal.
It suffiseth me, that I may your secrete friend remaine.

Ros.
A holie Hoode, makes not a Frier deuoute,
He will playe at small game, or he sitte out.

La.
Though for pleasure, or to proue me, these profers you do moue,
You are to wise, to hassarde life, vpon my yeelding loue:
The man is painde with present death, that vseth wanton pleasure.

Phal.
To scape such paine, wise men, these ioyes, without suspect cā measure.
Furthermore, I haue ben (my Girle) a Lawier to too lōg:
If at a pinche, I cannot wrest the Law from right to wrong.

La.
If lawe you do professe, I gladlie craue,
In a cause or two, your aduise to haue.

Phal.
To resolue you, you shall commaunde my skyll,
Wherfore like friendes, lets common in good wyll.

La.
You are a merie man, but leaue to ieast,
To morrowe night, if you will be my Geast:
At my poore house, you shall my causes knowe,
For good cause, which I meane not here to showe.

Phal.
Willinglie, and for that, haste calles me hence,
My sute tyll then, shall remaine in suspence:
Farewell Clyent, to morrow looke for me:

Exit.
La.
Your good welcome Sir, your best cheere will be.

Ros.
I tolde you earst, the nature of Phallax,
Money, or faire Women, workes him as waxe:
And yet I must commend your sober cheere,
You tolde your tale, as if a Saint you were.

La.
The Song.

Exeunt.

Scena. 7.

Cassandra, apparelled like a Page.
Cas.
Unhappy wretche, I blush my selfe to see,
Apparelled thus monstrous to my kinde:
But oh, my weedes, wyll with my fault agree,
When I haue pleasde, lewde Promos fleshlie minde.
What shall I doo, go proffer what he sought?
Or on more sute, shall I giue my consent?
The best is sure, since this must needes be wrought:
I go, and showe, neede makes me to his bent.
My fluddes of teares, from true intent which floe.
Maye quenche his lust, or ope his musled eyen,
To see that I deserue to be his wife:
Though now constrainde to be his Concubine.
But so, or no, I must the vent er giue,
No daunger feares the wight, prickt foorth by neede:
And thus lyke one more glad to dye, then lyue,
I forewarde set, God graunt me well to speede.

Exit.