 | The Weakest goeth to the VVall |  |
Enter King of Fraunce, a noble man bearing his Crowne, and an
other his hatte, staffe, and Pilgrimes gowne, with them conuersing
Duke Aniou, and Lodwicke, Duke of Bullen.
King.
How long shall I intreate? how long my Lords,
Will you detaine our holy Pilgrimage?
Are not our vowes already registerd
Vpon th'vnualued Sepulchre of Christ,
And shall your malice and inueterate hate
Like a contrarious tempest still diuorse
Our soule, and her religious chaste desires?
If it be treason to attempt by force,
To take from me this earthly Crowne of mine,
What is it when you studie to depriue
My soule of her eternall Dyadem?
Oh did you but regard my iust demaund,
Or would like subiects tender your Kings zeale,
You could not choose but entertaine a peace.
Why frowne you then? why do your sparkling eyes
Dart mortall arrowes in each others face?
Am I a friend, and can I not perswade?
Am I King, and shall I not preuaile?
Aniou be pacified, and Bullen leaue
To feed thy swelling stomake with contempt.
Lod.
Your grace doth know (with pardon be it spoken)
My wrongs are such, as I haue cause to frowne,
Nor can you blame me if I loath his sight
That was the butcher of my brothers life.
In Burgundie what slaughters did he make?
What tyrannie left he vnpractisde there?
Philip supprest, did not their bloudy hands
Extend to women and resistlesse babes?
Amongst the rest, was not the Dutchesse drownd?
And that which drawes continuall flouds of teares
From these mine eyes: and daily doth assaile
My feeble heart with neuer dying griefe,
Miscarried not young Fredericke my sonne?
Ah was not he vntimely by their meanes
Cutte off, that should haue comforted mine age?
Poore boy, whose pitteous speaking eye
Might haue bene able to haue turnd the hearts
Of sauage Lyons: yet they sparde him not.
Ki.
Ah speake no more of Burgundies discease,
Nor wake the quiet slumber of thy sonne,
But with the gray decrepit haires of thine
That are expir'd since Fredericke was intomb'd,
With his deare Aunt amidst the licquid waues,
Let slip the memorie of that mishap,
And now forget it, and forgiue it too.
Lod.
Although I must confesse the least of these
Incumbant euills, is argument inough
To whet the bluntest stomacke to reuenge:
Yet that your highnesse may perceiue my mind
Doth sauour of mildnesse and compassion,
And that the Bullen Duke may nere be found
To be a Traitor to his Kings commaund,
There is my dagger, and Ile lay my hand
Vnder the foote of Aniou where he treades,
And I will do it to deserue your loue.
Ki.
Wee thanke thee Bullen for thy kind respect,
But he that should be formost to set ope
The gate of mercie, and let friendship in,
Vpon whose head redounds the whole reproach
Of all these iniuries, swolne bigge with ire:
Stands as an Out-law still vpon defiance.
Mer.
I must dissemble theres no remedie.
K.
Looke Aniou here, and let his summers brow,
Thawe the hard winter of thy frozen heart.
Mer.
Dread soueraigne, Aniou likewise doth submit,
And with repentant thoughts for what is past,
Rests humbly at your Maiesties dispose.
K.
Then take the Duke of Bullen by the hand,
And treading former hatred vnder foote,
Wherewith your houses haue bene still opprest,
Like subiects of your King be reconcil'd.
Mer.
There is my hand Lodwick, the hand of him,
That thought to haue embrewd it in thy bloud,
But now is made the instrument of peace.
Lod.
And there is mine, with which I once did vow,
To sacrifice thy body to pale death,
But now I do embrace thee as a friend.
They embrace.
Mer.
The like doo I, but to an other end,
For Lewis no sooner shall depart from hence,
But straight new deeds of mischiefe Ile commence.
Ki.
This ioyes my soule, and more to let you know
How pleasing this retrait of peace doth seeme,
Till my returne from Palestine againe,
Be you ioynt gouernours of this my Realme,
I do ordaine you both my substitutes:
And herewithall bequeathe into your hands,
The keeping of the Crowne: my selfe adornd
With these abiliments of humble life,
Will forward to performe my promist vow.
Lod.
The God of heauen be still your highnesse guide.
Mer.
And helpe to thrust thy partnership aside.
Ki.
Lodwick, the loue that thou doest beare to vs,
And Mercury, the allegeance thou doest owe,
Now in my absence both of you will showe.
So leauing and relying on your trust,
I bid farewell, remember to be iust.
Exit.
Mer.
Brother of Bullen: so Ile call you now.
For why, this birth of new authoritie
Will haue it so, let me intreat your grace
That youle excuse my sudden haste from hence.
I haue some vrgent cause of great affaires,
That call me to the countrey for a while,
But long it shall not be ere I returne.
Lod.
At your good pleasure he is brother of Aniou,
Yet let me tell you that the iealous work
By this our seperation will misiudge.
Mer.
Not for so short a space, on friday next
I meane God willing to reuisit you.
Lod.
Adiew my Lord: the straunge euents that time
In his continuance often brings to passe:
Not two houres since I would haue sworne he lied,
That would haue tolde me, Aniou and my selfe,
Should euer haue bene heard to enterchaunge
Such friendly conference but my word is past,
And I will keepe my couenant with the King.
Enter two Gentlemen, Petitioners.
1.
God saue your honour.
2.
Health to the Duke of Bullen.
Lod.
Gentlemen y'are welcome, come you with newes?
Or haue you some Petition to the King?
1.
A sute my Lord, which should haue bene preferd
Vnto the King himselfe, but being gone
Vpon his Pilgrimage before we came,
The power now to do vs right remaines
Within your hands: whom as we vnderstand,
His grace hath made Vice-gerent of the Land.
Lod.
What is your suite?
2.
This paper will vnfold,
If please you take perusall of the same
O I remember now, it is to haue
A Pattent seald, for certaine exhibition
Giuen by his highnesse for your seruice done
Against the late inuasion of the English.
1.
True my good Lord.
Lod.
Well I will doo you any good I can:
But Gentlemen, I must be plaine with you,
I am but the halfe part of that authoritie
Which late you spake of: for with me is ioynd
The Duke of Aniou, equally possest.
And he euen now departed from the Court,
But when he doth returne, you shall be sure
To be dispatcht.
2.
When he returnes my Lord?
That will not be I feare, till angry warre
Hath brought destruction on some part of Fraunce.
Lod.
How say you that? till angry warre hath brought
Destruction on some part of Fraunce, why so?
2.
Because my Lord, in secret he hath leuied
A mightie power, which since, as we are told,
Lying not farre from Parris, had in charge
As on this day to meete the Duke at Mullins.
Lod.
A towne neare neighbouring on my territories:
It is euen so, this proud dissembling Duke
Made our reconcilement but a colour
To cloake his treason till the King were gone,
And now his hollow and perfidious dealing,
As when the turffe the Adder lurked in
Is shorne away, begins to shewe it selfe.
It is at me he aimes, the bloud he dranke
In Burgundie will not allay his thirst,
Orleance must administer a fresh supply:
But least my wife and daughter whom I left
Slenderly guarded, fall into his hands,
(Which now is all the comfort I haue left)
Come Gentlemen, I will dispatch your sute,
And afterward ride post vnto my house.
1.
We will attend vpon your excellence.
Exeunt.
Enter Barnabie Bunch a Botcher, with a paire of sheares, a handbasket with a crosse bottome of thred, three or foure paire of old stockings, peeces of fustian and cloath, & c.
Bunch.
He sings.
1.
How blessed is this Botcher that can sing?
When all the Citie is set on sorrowing.
He seekes vp and downe for a place to hide his Plate.
Where shall I hide this litle that I haue,
Whilst speedie flight attempt my life to saue?
2.
O vnexpected sudden miserie,
More bitter made by our securitie:
We vnprouided, and our foes at hand,
The head depres'd how can the body stand?
Seeke.
Where shall I shrowd vnseene this litle pelfe,
Whilest I by flight assay to saue my selfe.
3.
Whom haue we here? my gold will me betray.
Thee must I leaue, with life to steale away.
He seekes.
Thou art my life, then if I liue tis wonder,
When limmes and life are forc'd to part in sunder.
1.
Who's there?
2.
A friend: who thou?
1.
No enemie, whats he?
3.
A Citizen your neighbour, what fellow's that?
1.
A Botcher, a poore English mechanick.
2.
What shall we do in this calamitie?
1.
Hide what we haue, and flie from th'enemie.
3.
O how neare is hee?
2.
Heele be here to night.
3.
No meane to saue our liues but present flight.
Bunch.
Enter Lodwick.
Lod.
O whither flie ye silly heartlesse shadowes?
What sudden feare so daunts your courages?
Are ye surpriz'd with dread of enemies?
Then arme your selues to guard your selues and yours:
Let not base rumours driue ye from your denne,
As Hares from formes; stay, fight, and die like men.
1.
Noble Duke Lodwick, what auailes our stay,
When all our power cannot defend one part?
Lod.
We shall haue helpe.
2.
From whom?
Lod.
From Count Lauall.
1.
No he and Trosthey are with Mercurie.
Lod.
Yet Mounsieur Rossibroune may come in time.
3.
All is but hazard, we are sure of none.
Therefore God buy you my Lord, for Ile saue one.
Exit.
2.
And I an other.
1.
And I if I can.
Exeunt Ambo.
Lod.
Are ye all gone? stayes there not one man?
Good fellow what art thou?
Bunch.
A corrector of extrauagant hose feete.
Lod.
Wilt thou abide?
And fight against th'approaching enemie?
Bunch.
Enuie? what enuie?
Lod.
The periurd Duke of Aniou, Mercurie,
That comes to sack this vnprouided Towne.
Bunch.
Is he neare hand?
Lod.
I, nearer then I wish.
Bunch.
Lod.
So all will leaue me in extremitie.
Enter a Messenger.
Nuntio.
Deare honored Lord, make hast to saue your self.
The armed troupes of trecherous Mercury,
Approach so fast, and in such multitudes,
That some of them are seene within a league,
And not a man of ours in readinesse,
Except it be to runne, none to resist.
Lod.
Then must I runne as fast as they.
Lodwick till now was neuer runne-away.
Exeunt Lodwick, and Messenger.
Bunch.
in my left hand, a chalke in my right: what makes this in the
pye? sixe pence said I: fill here hey in the swanne, by and
by, anan, anan: there might I haue eate my fill, and drunke
my fill, and slept my fill, and all without feare, safe as mouse
in a mill: heere if th'enuy come, will be nothing, but kil, kil,
kill: and I am sure to be in most daunger, because I am an
English man and a straunger, this is the lucke of them that
trauell forrain lands: now one paire of running legges, are
worth two paire of working hands.
Exit.
Enter Duke Mercury with Souldiers, Drumme, and Ensigne.
Mer.
A plague vpon you, was the Pallace watch'd
That he and his haue all escaped thus?
O I could teare my very heart strings out,
I am so stung with this indignitie.
Will no man bring me word that he is taken?
Night wert thou any thing, but what thou art,
A thicke darke shadowe, that art onely seene,
I would not liue, till thou wert banished,
But let him goe, and now shall Aniou shine
More brighter then the burning lampe of heauen:
Where in the height of the celestiall signes,
In all his pompe he sailes along the skies,
Now France shall shake with terror of my name,
Onely my word shall be a Parliament,
Enacting statutes as shall bind the world,
Where maiestie shall plead prerogatiue,
In mightie volumes writing with his hand,
The vncontrolld decrees of soueraigntie:
Lodwick expulsed, and King Francis gone,
Yet once is Aniou King of Fraunce alone.
Enter Messenger.
Messen.
My Lord.
Mer.
Is Lodwick taken? raunsome him to me,
And take my Dukedome what so ere thou bee.
Messen.
I am a Messenger of other newes.
Mer.
O but salute mine eares with that sweete sound,
And in that musick be all accents drownd.
Mes.
My Lord: to Armes, to Armes, my Lord of Aniou,
The power of Spaine hath past the Pyren hills,
And are already entred into France,
Vnder Hernando, the great Duke of Medena:
The Frontiers lie all blazed with rude warre:
The fields are couerd with vnciuill armes
Of sun burnt Moores, and tawnie Affricans
Which they haue brought: they skorn to beare their spoiles
Their neighing Gennets, armed to the field
Do yorke and fling, and beate the sullen ground,
And vncontrolld, come loose abroad in France.
Nauarre is sack'd, and like a mightie flood
The haughtie Spaniard ouerturneth all.
Gather your power, make head against the foe:
The diuell driues, tis full time to goe.
Mer.
The diuell burst those balling chops of thine.
Spaine and the plague, and hell and all together,
If the full tunne of vengeance be abroach,
Fill out and swill vntill you burst againe.
Come dogge, come diuell, he that scapes best.
Let him take all, and split, and rote, and choke
Hooke, swords and caps, if hold will ha't thus doe
Let him liues longst, wipe the reckoning out,
Sound drumme away, before our glory die,
Some shall be lowe, that now do looke full hie.
Enter Yacob van Smelt, Lodwick, Oriana, Dyan, and Bunch.
Yacob.
seg in English) twea mannikins, twea tannikins, twea mans,
twea womans: spreak, wat will you geuen by de dagh? by
de weeke? by de mont? by de yeare? all to mall.
Bunch.
Yacob.
Bunch.
Yacob.
Bunch.
Yacob.
Gods pestilence, beest thou frantick?
Lod.
Patience my friends, fellow he spake no ill,
My gentle host was casting his account,
To what our weekly charges must amount.
Yacob.
Yaw, yaw, true, true.
Bunch.
Lod.
Well mine host Iacob, though our state be poore,
Yet will we pay you iustly our compound:
For me, my wife, and daughter, by the weeke,
For dyet, lodging, and for laundery,
So long as we shall host within your house,
Fiue Gilders weekly I will answere you.
Yacob.
Bunch.
Lod.
He doth demaund who shall defray thy charge?
For meat, and drinke, and lodging in his house.
Bunch.
Yacob.
Bunch.
Yacob.
Bunch.
Yacob.
Bunch.
Yacob.
Bunch.
Hebben, habben quoth a? what shall I hebben?
Lod.
A place to worke in Yacob offers thee,
Harke hither Bunch.
He takes him aside and whispers.
Yacob.
I Frow, hey, comt here:
He takes Oriana by the hand.
Oriana.
I say mine Host, that you are ill aduis'd,
To tempt the honour of a straungers wife:
Consider if your fortune were as ours,
In forraine place to rest ye for a time,
Would you your wife should be allur'd to sinne?
To breake her vow and to dishonour you?
Yacob.
Yacob whispers with Oriana.
Lod.
No Bunch, by no meanes tell from whence we came,
Nor what enforced vs seeke a refuge here:
And though my want at instant be extreame,
Yet when the heauens shall better my estate,
Thy secrecie will I remunerate.
Bunch.
Lod.
Gramercies honest friend.
Oriana.
No Iacob no,
Need cannot force, nor flatterie intreat.
Yacob.
Swig dan, nea meare, come sall vs in to eat?
Exeunt Yacob, Bunch, Oriana.
Lod.
Euen when you please mine host: come daughter
Come, be of good comfort, heauen is where it was:
When fortunes storme a while our state hath tost,
A calmer gale may giue what we haue lost.
Dyana.
Assure ye sir, euen as I am your child,
Not discontent, but patience makes me mild,
If inward griefe externall ioy supplant,
It moanes not mine, but your vnwonted want.
Lod.
Thou seest how easily I endure the smart,
Because thy mother and thy selfe beare part:
Come let vs in, on him that knowes vs best
Lets fix our hope, and so in patience rest.
Exeunt.
Enter Hernando de Medyna, and Don Vgo de
Cordoua, with their souldiers.
Her.
It seemes that the Nobilitie of Fraunce
Are all a sleepe, that vnresisted, thus
We diue into the entrailes of their Land:
Is there no haughtie chiualier, no spirit
Heroick, dare so much as once demaund
Wherefore we come? or offer vs the fight?
Why then proceed we as we haue begunne
To take possession, not to conquer here:
What Citie call you this?
Vgo.
Shamount my Lord.
Her.
Mount? whither does it mount? Ile make it lie
As leuell as her other fellowes do,
And though her loftie turrets touch the clouds,
Yet will I teach her like an humble handmaid,
To make a lowly curtsie to the ground:
Shamount shall stoope, Medyna saies the word.
But who are these? Don Vgo question them.
Vgo.
Of whence are you? speak quickly, least my sword
Preuent your tongues by searching of your hearts.
1.
Great Prince of Spaine, we are th'inhabitants
Of this distressed Citie of Shamount.
Her.
Yet more of Mount? shall I be haunted still
With eccho of Shamount? how dare you slaues
Haue any such proud title in your mouthes?
Shall stoupe I say, be that your Cities name,
For I will make it stoupe before I passe.
2.
Thou dread Commaunder of the Spanish Force,
If not for our humilitie and praiers,
Yet for these presents which we bring to thee,
(A Cuppe of gold, and in the same containd,
Fiue thousand Markes) respect our naked walles,
Draw not thy sword against our yeelding soules,
But passing by in peace, let this alone,
(This harmeles Citie mongst all other ruines)
Stand as a Trophey of thy clemencie.
Her.
Would you corrupt our valour with your coyne?
Or do you thinke the Spaniard is so poore,
A litle Gold can make him sell his honour?
No, were your streets through ston'd with Dyamonds,
And you should digge them vp to bring them hither:
Or were your houses in the stead of Slate,
Couerd with Siluer, and your selues prepard
To teare it off and giue it vs,
Nay were your walles of purest Chrysolyte,
And puld beside their bounds for our owne vse,
Yet would we scorne all this and ten times more,
For we count honour sweetnesse of dominion,
Tis Lordship that we come for, and to rule,
More worth then millions, stoope and kis our feete,
Bring forth your daughters and your fairest wiues
To be our Concubines, waight you your selues
Vpon our trenchers, and like stable groomes,
Rubbe our horse heeles, and then perhaps weele yeeld
That you shall liue, or so, but otherwise,
Looke for no pittie at Medynaes hand:
And for an instance, thus and thus I seale
He kills them.
The couenant of my great comptrolling sprite,
And now amaine giue onset to the towne.
Enter Mercurie and his men.
Mer.
First insolent Medyna, here is one
Will trie how thou canst but end a man,
Before thou lay thy force vnto a wall.
Her.
Now by mine honour welcome to the field,
Liues there a French man then dare trie with vs?
I thought you had bene Pigmeys all till now,
And durst not looke a Spaniard in the face,
But now I see you are of taller shapes,
How euer hearted that is yet vnknowne.
Mer.
So hearted Spaniard, as we are resolu'd
To plague thee for thy damned crueltie.
Her.
Talke then no longer, shew your Chiualrie.
Alarum, they fight, Mercurie is wounded, and put to flight.
Her.
Was this the worthy champion so resolu'd,
To plague vs as he said? was this the man
Fraunce had pickt out, to take her quarell vp?
Now sure a trustie wight, when hands serue not,
He knowes the way to take him to his heeles:
Yet is it good that we did meete with him
Be it but for this, to keepe our hands in vre,
And breath our pursie bodies, which I feare,
Would haue growne stiffe for want of exercise.
But now no more, enter the Citie gates,
And therein boldly euery one deuise,
How he can Lord it in the French mens eyes.
Exit.
Enter Emanuell, with Leontius.
Ema.
Could I resolue my selfe sufficiently,
He should not stay one houre in my Court,
But I haue noted in her from her birth,
A straunge ennated kind of curtesie,
An affable, inclining lenitie,
With such a virgine meeknesse to regard,
As may abuse, a wise and grounded censure,
In iudging of affection, and of honour.
Leon.
Pardon me gracious Lord, I speake it not
In any sort to wrong your Princely daughter,
Or to impeach your iudgement any wise
In your opinion of the Gentleman,
But as a iust and honest subiect should,
In matters that concerne my trust so much.
Ema.
Nor as I am a Prince I thinke thou doest,
I haue so good assurance of thy loue,
Which may I trust, induce thee to resolue me,
From what conceit proceeds thy strong surmise.
Leon.
This other day, for hunting of the stagge,
Attending faire Odillia to the Forrest,
When as the hounds had rows'd the trembling deare,
And euery man spurd hard vnto the crie,
Riding along, a goodly Couert side:
The company all stragling here and there,
Onely the Princesse, and young Ferdynand,
Curbing their steeds in with their silken raynes,
Into a Groaue road secretly togither,
Thrice did I see him kisse her snowy hand,
And with three humble Cursies bowd his head,
Downe to the stirrope of Odillia,
Then did I see him whisper in her eare,
When with her Fanne she wonne the wanton wind
To coole his face as they road gently on.
Then came they to a litle perling Brooke,
Whereas they paus'd, as it should seeme to heare
The birds sweete musicke, to the bubling streame.
Then did I see him lift his eyes towards hers,
Taking her gloue which lay vpon her lappe,
A thousand times did reuerence to the same,
And in his Bauldrick wrapt it choisly vp,
When as she pluckt a bloomed Lymon braunch,
With her white hand out of her Coronet,
And with her fingers twind it in his lock
And smild: and bowd her head into his bosome.
And thus with gentle parlance both togither
They paced on vnto the flowry lawne.
Ema.
If this be not surmiz'd which thou report'st,
It should be signe of some affection.
Leon.
Ile not enforce it on your excellence
By circumstance: but onely this I saw.
Em.
Wheres Ferdynando? saw you him of late?
Leon.
Lord Strossy, and your daughter be at chests,
And they saw him, but euen very now.
Em.
Goe call them hither presently to me.
Leon.
I trust you will not vrge me in the matter.
Em.
Go too, I will not.
Exit Leontius.
How now? a villaine that I found by chance,
To court my onely daughter and my heire:
And hauing thus reuiu'd him by my fauours,
Will the vile viper sting me for my loue?
Enter Frederick Ferdinando kneeles.
Em.
Sirrha come hither, didst thou neuer heare
How first I found thee, being but a child:
Hid in the segges fast by a Riuer side,
As it should seeme of purpose to be lost.
Being so yoong, that thou hadst not the sence
To tell thy name, or of what place thou wast?
Fre.
I haue heard your Lordship often so report it.
Em.
Did thy adultrous parents cast thee off
As it should seeme, ashamed of thy birth?
And haue I made a nurserie of my Court
To foster thee, and growne to what thou art,
Enrich thee with my fauours euery where?
That from the loathsome mud from whence thou camest,
Thou art so bold out of thy buzzards nest,
To gaze vpon the sunne of her perfections?
Is there no bewtie that can please your eye,
But the diuine and splendant excellence
Of my beloued deare Odillia?
How darest thou but with trembling and with feare
Looke vp toward the heauen of her hie grace?
And euen astonisht with the admiration,
Let fall the gaudye plumens of thy proud heart?
Dare any wretch so vile and so obscure,
Attempt the honour of so great a Princesse?
Fre.
Heare me my Lord.
Odillia.
Nay heare me Princely father,
For what you speake to him concernes me most.
Neuer did he attempt to wrong mine honour,
Nor did his tongue ere vtter yet one accent,
But what a virgins eare might safely heare.
I neuer saw him exercise himselfe
In any place where I my selfe was present,
But with such a gracefull modest bashfulnesse,
As well beseemed both his youth and dutie.
I neuer saw him yet presume my presence
But with a lowe subiected reuerence,
A browe as humble as humilitie:
And when I haue enforced him to speake,
In any thing I had employd him in,
His words haue bene in such an humble key,
As silence would haue told a secret in.
But if his seruice to me be suspected,
Attending me to helpe me to my horse,
Or bent my bowe when I haue shot a Deare,
Discourse of Nations, playd at Mawe and Chesse:
Or led me by the arme when I had walk'd.
If this may breed suspition of my loue,
I cannot keepe the tongue of lealousie.
Frede.
When did I euer but approach the place
Where she hath bene, but kneeling to the earth
As if the ground were holy where she troad?
When was I seene to gaze once in her glasse,
For feare the Christall wherein she beheld her,
Should tell my disobedience to her eyes?
When was I seene to smell but to a flower
To which the Princesse had but smelt before
As farre vnworthy that my sence should taste
So rich an odour as had pleased hers?
When was I seene to looke once in her face,
But as a man beholding of the sunne,
That cast his head downe dazled with his rayes.
I neuer nam'd that name, Odillia:
But with such worship, and such reuerence,
As to an Angell if he should appeare.
Her haue I lou'd for feare, and feard for loue,
For I adore diuine Odillia.
Em.
Frederick, thy humble and submissiue carriage,
Hath satisfied me fully at this time.
And my Odillia, tak't not in ill part,
That too much loue breakes out into suspition,
It is the fault of loue Odillia,
And hath his pardon as it doth offend:
Then come Leontius, you and Ile away,
Go backe Odillia, and attend your play.
Exit.
Fre.
Madam you see, that iealousie attends
Vpon the houres of our succesfull loue,
What is your princely pleasure with my seruice?
I feare suspition but too much espies,
I see that trees had eares, and bushes eyes.
Odil.
Deare Ferdynand, prouide then for our flight,
I regard nothing in respect of thee,
Onely be constant, and Ile goe with thee,
In all the wayes that fortune can direct.
Goe get you hence, I will attend my sport,
Much is to do, and time is very short.
Enter Yacob, and Lodwick, Yacob hath a long boord chalked.
Ya.
betall shellam betall, Ick mought gelt heb come,
pay.
Lod.
My gentle host haue patience but a while,
I will endeuour to come out of debt,
As speedily as God shall giue me meanes,
Forbearing neither lessons nor acquites
One groat of dutie, onely your good minde
Shall be approu'd for respiting a time.
Yacob.
Lod.
Yacob, alas thou seest what wealth I haue,
Apparell, Iewels, Plate, and Gold I lacke,
Fortune hath wrackt me on extremitie,
For all my riches are within thy house.
My vertuous wife and daughter are my treasure,
Which aboue all worlds wealth beside I measure.
Yacob.
Lod.
Alas what comfort is there left for me
If those deare Iewels be empaund to thee?
My wife and daughter? Iacob chaunge thy mind,
Diuide vs not, ô be not so vnkind.
Yacob.
Lod.
No remedie? well, call my wife and daughter,
If they consent to be engag'd to thee,
Ile lesue them, else, thou shalt imprison me.
Yacob.
Lodwick lookes sadly, Yacob merrily.
Oriana.
What Planets opposition haue we heare,
That makes a storme in sunshine, heate in frost?
The heauens are clouded, drossie earth is cleare,
My husband frownes, but frolicke is mine host,
O fire and Ice, O feare and doubt togither,
What enuious starre directs my comming hither?
Lod.
No heauier starre nor more maleuolent
Needs Lodwick, then this Flemish excrement.
Deare Oriana, thou dost know our state
Cast downe, spurnd, skornd by fortune, and by fate,
Yet neuer griefe so nearely galls my hart,
As when I thinke that thou and I must part.
Or.
Why must we part?
Lod.
Aske Iacob, he can tell.
Ya.
Lod.
Well, then I must perswade her patience,
To be thy pawne, thy prisoner in mine absence.
Bunch.
how much it is? what be these Guilderns?
Lodwick whispers with Oriana and Dyana.
Ya.
Bunch.
Yacob.
Bunch.
Lod.
Prithee be quiet, Yacob I will leaue
My dearest, most vnualued Iewels here:
Entreate them well as thou wilt answere me
At my returne, euen with thy dearest bloud,
If they miscarrie in thy custodie.
Friend Bunch farewell, be kind vnto these twaine,
And if I liue Ile recompence thy paine.
Bunch.
Lod.
I know not yet, where fortune shall direct,
Leaue vs a while to take a sad farewell:
That done, I part, and they shall stay with you.
Yacob.
Bunch.
Lod.
Bunch.
Yacob.
Bunch.
Exeunt Yacob and Bunch.
Lod.
Ah beastly brutall, baser then the dung,
That hast no touch nor feeling of my want,
That such a drunken greasie slaue discards:
Ah Oriana, neuer till this houre
Did I confesse my want or miserie,
For but of thee, and my poore sweete Dyana,
I neuer made account that ought was mine,
But poorer now then pouertie it selfe,
Of all I had you onely were the best,
Now must I too, forgoe you with the rest.
Ori.
Ah must we part? why whither wilt thou goe?
Ah my deare Lord, yet whil'st we liu'd togither,
With what content haue we endur'd our woe?
Now like a sea tost Nauie in a storme,
Must we be seuer'd vnto diuers shores?
O that the poorest beggers that do breath
Should yet haue that which is deni'd to vs,
But to haue partners in their miserie.
Dya.
Good father since our fortune is to beg,
Let me become the beggar for you both:
What shall become of me, if you do leaue me?
Many will giue me bread if I do aske,
But there is none that can giue me a father.
Lod.
Ah my poore wench, if I should stay with you,
This gripple miser, this vnciuill wretch,
Will for this litle that I am indebted,
Vnchristianly imprison you and me,
Where we shall surely perish then for want.
But I will crosse the narrow seas for England
To London: where ere long I make no doubt,
To get so much, as shall redeeme you hence,
And shall redeeme this poore estate of ours,
Till fairer fortune hap to shew her head.
Oria.
Farewell, farewell: now all my ioy doth goe,
Goe you alone, while we alone with woe.
Dya.
Farewell deare father.
Lod.
My sweete gerle adiew,
He blesse vs all, that keepes both me and you.
Exit Lodwick.
Enter Yacob and Bunch to Oriana and Dyana.
Ya.
Bunch.
Ori.
Bunch.
Ya.
Dya.
Wilt please ye mother, leaue this barbarous beast,
And take you to your chamber?
Oria.
I my child.
Be going out.
Bunch.
Ya.
Bunch.
Enter Lodwick fainting.
Lod,
Imperious fortune when thou dost begin
To shew thine anger, how implacable
And how remorcelesse are thy bitter checks?
To losse of honour, daunger of my life:
To the endaungering of my life, thou addest
A separation twixt my wife and me.
To that, base pouertie: to that, contempt:
And now thou tak'st from me my strength of limmes,
Infeebling me for lack of sustenance.
All this thou giu'st me of thine owne accord,
One thing let me intreat thee to restore,
Which with my teares I beg, though thou would'st send
Death, to fill vp the measure of thy spight:
That it may be sufficient thou hast forc't
My heart to sigh, my hands to beate my breast,
My feete to trauell, and my eyes to weepe,
Inioyne not now my tongue to aske an almes,
But thou art deafe, and I must either begge
Or sterue for foode to comfort me withall,
And loe in happie time here commeth one.
Enter Sir Nicholas reading very earnestly on a Letter.
Where I may make a tryall of my skill,
A man it seemes belonging to the Church,
I haue some knowledge in the Latine tongue,
Perhaps for that heele sooner pittie me.
Sifte gressus quæso reuerende Pater.
Et occulos flecte tuos in miserum,
Respice spretum respice precor egenum.
Sir Ni.
Whats this?
Lod.
Oh miserere paupertatis meæ,
Respice spretum respice precor egenum.
Sir Ni.
It seemes that thou art needie, and wouldst beg
An almes of me, is that thy meaning, speake?
Lod.
Ita domine ita, nam vehementer.
Sir Ni.
Tut a figges end, vehementer quotha?
Theres a word indeed to begge withall:
It is inough to bring thee to the stocks.
This is no Vniuersitie, nor Schoole,
But a poore Village: and I promise thee,
I neuer could abide this Romish tongue.
Tis harsh, tis harsh, and we, I tell thee true,
Do eate and drinke in our plaine mother phrase:
If thou doest want, and wouldst haue part with vs,
Then do as we do, like an honest man,
Shew thy true meaning in familiar termes.
Lod.
I am good sir, if please you, much distrest,
Hauing nor money, friends, nor meate to eate:
If it may stand with your humanitie
To giue me some reliefe, Ile pray for you,
And whilst I liue be thankfull for the same.
S. Ni.
Why so, now I vnderstand thy meaning,
Is not this better farre then respice
And precor, and such Inkehorne tearmes,
As are intollerable in a Common-wealth?
Coniurers do vse them, and thou know'st
That they are held flat Fellons by the law.
Be sure thou mightst haue beg'd till thou were hoarse,
And talkt vntill thy tougue had had the crampe,
Before thou wouldst haue bene regarded once.
It is not good to be phantasticall,
Or scrupulous in such a case as this.
But to the purpose, thou art poore thou say'st?
Lod.
Exceeding poore, poorer then Irus,
He did enioy the quiet of the minde,
Although his body were expos'd to want:
But I in body and in minde am vext.
Sir Ni.
I feare by keeping riotous company
Or some such misdemeanour?
Lod.
Then I wish,
That God may turn your hart from pittying me.
Sir Ni.
Well, thou sayst well, thou hast an honest face,
And art beside, a pretie handsome fellowe:
Me thinkes thou couldst not want a seruice long,
If thou wouldst be contented to take paines.
Lod.
Oh sir, the world is grown so ful of doubts,
Or rather so confounded with selfe-loue,
As if a poore man beg, they straight cōdemne him,
And say, he is an idle vagabound:
Or if he aske a seruice, or to worke,
They straightway are suspicious of his truth:
So that howeuer, they will find excuse,
That he shall still continue miserable.
And tis as common as tis true withall,
The weakest euer goe vnto the wall.
Sir Ni.
By my faith thou sayst true, the more is the pittie.
Lod.
But if you will vouchsafe, because my state
Is very bare, and I am here vnknowne,
To be a meanes to helpe me to some place,
Where I may serue: my paines I do not doubt,
Shall proue my pouertie no counterfeit.
Sir Ni.
Faith I must tell thee, I haue litle coine,
My Benefice doth bring me in no more
But what will hold bare buckle & thōg together,
And now and then to play a game at bowles:
Or drinke a pot of Ale amongst good fellowes.
And for my Parishioners, they are husbandmen,
Nor do I know of any lacks a seruant.
But this, the Sexton of our Church is dead,
And we do lacke an honest painfull man,
Can make a graue, and keepe our Clock in frame,
And now and then to toule a passing bell:
If thou art willing so to be emploid,
I can befriend thee.
Lod.
Oh withall my heart,
And thinke me treble happie by the office.
Sir Ni.
Thy wages is not great, not much aboue
Two Crownes a quarter, but thy vailes wil helpe,
As first the making of a graue's a groate,
Then ringing of the bell at euery buriall,
Two pence a knell: which likewise is a groate.
And now and then the maisters of our Parish,
(As good man Flaile, & Bartholmew Pitchforke)
Will bid thee home to dine and sup with them.
Beside, thou hast a house to dwell in rent-free:
And for the liking that I haue in thee,
Thou shalt be somewhat better too for mee:
The grasing of a pigge within the Churchyard,
Or when I gather vp my Tithes, an egge,
A good hogges pudding, or a peece of souse:
What man tis? good fare in a countrey house,
Come follow me, Ile see thee plac't forthwith.
Lod.
I thanke you sir, when all things run awry,
True labour must not be thought slauery.
Exeunt.
Enter Frederick and Odillia.
Fre.
If you be able to endure the way
Till we haue passed Brabant, we will on:
But Madam, if you hardly brooke your trauell,
Wee'll take the right hand way into the Forrest,
Where we will shrowd vs secretly till night.
Odillia.
Let vs not stay neare to my fathers Court,
Not for a world I would not hazard thee,
No world could saue if taken thou shouldst bee,
Me thinkes tis long before the sunne arise.
Fre.
A it is long Odillia of thine eyes,
Who slumbring still, imagines it is night,
And that the shining is his sisters light.
Odil.
No, tis the Moone, sweete Ferdynand I see,
Keepes backe her brother still to looke on thee.
Fre.
I maruell not poore light if she decline,
When my Odillia doth so early shine.
Odil.
Come, come, sweete loue, O I am full of feare,
Bee I the Moone, thine arme must be my spheare.
Fre.
O were I heauen, thou euer should'st shine there.
Exeunt.
Enter Emanuell and Shamont.
Ema.
O miserie, why didst thou baite my fall
With these descending shadowes of my good?
Sha.
My Lord, nere stand vpon these vaine exclaimes,
But by pursute, seeke to redresse your wrongs,
Tis speedy expedition must recouer,
What light beleefe, and ouersight hath lost.
Ema.
Horses I say, let horses be sent forth,
No Christian Prince that treads on Europes mold,
I thinke that will so farre engage his honour,
As entertaine this damned fugitiue.
Horses I say, spurre, spurre, through euery coast,
Put on the wings of speedy expedition,
In the pursuite of my Odillia:
Deaffen the very aire with your exclaimes,
And fill each Prouince with the ceaslesse brute,
Ring out this famous wrong in your pursuite.
Sha.
Come, come, my Lord, incessant speed must post,
Words cannot get what you haue vainely lost.
Enter Yacob, Oriana, and Dyana.
Ya.
Ori.
Farewell mine host, we are for England bound,
Out of your debt, for you are satisfied.
Ya.
Yaw, yaw, ye heb well betalld.
Ori.
So leaue I you to seeke my husband out,
Whom your vnciuill vsage forced hence,
Your imperfections (Yacob) are extreame,
Excesse in diet, kindled fire of lust,
The smoake whereof vnkindly chast away
My louing husband, whom I must pursue.
We owe ye nothing, not so much as loue,
Since for your lust you haue abusde vs all,
We haue not falne, thogh want did wrastle hard:
Our fingers ends our honours haue sustaind,
Flaunders farewell, yrksome without my Lord,
And Newkerke for his sake be thou abhord.
Ya.
Hore ye well yffrow? ken ye whare to find you man?
Ori.
I trust at London.
Dya.
Mother, please you goe?
The ayre's infected where this glutton breathes,
That makes vs Pilgrimes without deuotion.
Amend thy maners, or let all refuse
To host with thee, that wouldst thy guesse abuse.
Exit Orian, and Dyana: manet Yacob.
Ya.
Adiew skone meskyn, adiew zoot frow,
Ick will mijne selue strauen vp de galligo bobbintow,
Ick sall be dode slone met dis meager loue.
Enter Bunch.
Sweg Yacob sweg, here comt Bunch dat boue.
Bun.
Yacob.
Bunch.
Ya.
A Bunch, Bunch, deye bene aweigh lop't,
Deye will niet langer met mije blieuen.
Bunch.
Ya.
Ick weat not, for England, for Loundres they segt.
Bun.
How? for England? for London?
O Saint Katherns Docke,
And leaue me behind them?
Yacob doest thou not mocke?
Ya.
Niet for ware.
Bunch.
Ya.
Bun.
When you meet with the Cat, for my sake whip her.
Ya.
Ha Bunch, mijen hart is gebroke, ick mought niet lang leuen,
Come met mey rat parting, ick sall detwea stopes van Bere geuen.
Exeunt.
Enter Ferd. and Odillia.
Ferdi.
Thus farre (sweet Lady) safely are we scap't,
And hardly shall they ouertake vs now,
Though euery way pursuite do follow vs.
Be cheerfull then Odillia, Loue is guide
Who sweares that Fortune shall vs not diuide.
Odillia.
Deare Ferdinand I neither feare nor doubt,
Perrill is but a Bugbeare for a childe,
My heart is firme, and fortified with loue,
Witnesse this desperate tender of mine honour
Into thy hands, which thou hast yet preseru'd.
Fer.
And will preserue it whilst I draw this breath,
And bring it sacred to our nuptiall bed.
Odil.
Then Ferdinand belike ye meane to wed?
Fer.
Meane not you so?
Odil.
Yes, but with whom?
Fer.
Madame I trust with mee.
Odil.
Well maist thou trust, Ile marry none but thee.
I know thy bringing vp, though not thy birth,
Thou art deriu'd from Adam, form'd of earth:
From that first Parent all descended are,
Then who begat or bare thee that's not my care.
Thou stolst my heart, I stole with thee thus farre,
Loue wrought our ioy, lack shall not make vs iarre.
Fer.
O happie accents of a heauenly tongue.
Odil.
Lets iourney on, we tarry here too long.
Enter Bunch.
Alas who is this?
Bunch.
Faith one that will do ye no wrong.
Fer.
Peazant thou canst not.
Bun.
Odil.
Simple and pleasant this poore fellow seemes,
Question him further Ferdinand.
Fer.
I will: My friend where are wee?
Bunch.
Cannot you tell?
Ferdi.
No.
Bunch.
Then ye ha no wit, are not we heare I pray you?
Fer.
We are here indeed, but say what countrey's this?
Bunch.
Nay ye ask'd me not that before,
Nor I cannot tell ye it now.
Odil.
Whither goe you my friend?
Bunch.
Tis true indeed your friend, and Barnabie Bunch,
I am going to Fraunce.
Fer.
And can ye speake French?
Bunch.
I sir I would be sorie else.
Enter Lodwick like a Sexton.
Fer.
D'ou veni vou?
Bunch.
Fer.
I pray you sir what territorie's this?
Lod.
Part of the base countrey of Fraunce it is,
The Village name is Ards in Picardy.
Fer.
What entertainment can the town afford
To trauellers?
Lod.
Too meane for such as you.
Fer.
Inhabit you this Village?
Ld.
I forsoothe.
Why gazest thou vpon me so my friend?
Bunch.
By Iacobs staffe and Iumballs fiddle,
Because Ile spose ye with a Riddle.
Two hees, two shees, by night fled tuch,
And light vpon a hannykin Dutch.
Yacob builded a new kerke.
And with his chaulk writ such a quirke,
That wife and child were left alone,
The skore is paid, and they are gone.
Lod.
Let this alone friend till an other time,
My skill is small in Riddles or in Rime,
Be silent Bunch, till we be rid of these.
Close aside to Bunch.
Fer.
You seeme a man belonging to the Church,
And we haue Church-worke to be finished:
In plainest termes, we would be married,
Accomplish our desire for recompence.
Lod.
I blush not at my calling Gentleman,
The Sextens place of Ards I now professe,
If that faire damsell do consent with you,
Ile call the Viccar to conioyne ye straight.
Odil.
Call him good friend, for my consent is past.
Bun.
Nay but call him quickly, for ye see shees in hast.
Lod.
Maister, Sir Nicholas, heer's a commoditie,
A marriage that must quickly be dispatch'd.
Enter Sir Nicholas.
Nicho.
Gramercy Sexten, this was featly watch'd.
Welcome fresh Gallants to the Towne of Ards.
A prettie couple, youthfull as the spring, sweete as is May
morning, doo you desire to be knit togither?
Ferd.
In holy marriage (Sir) would we be ioynd.
Nich.
In holy wedlocke Gentles, so I meane,
Ye are in the state of grace, Twinnes in affection,
Turtles in true loue, I know ye haue no Lycense,
And tis no matter; holie matrimony shall passe my libertie
Without examining: youl pay mee?
Ferd.
I.
Nich.
Come, Ile glue ye togither by and by,
To the lawfull bed, to the lawfull bed:
Fie on this Fornication, this lasciuious lust:
And yet the flesh prickes my holy selfe now and then:
Come follow mee, Ile call some more witnesse,
And clap it vp presently.
Ex. Ferdinand, Odillia, and Nicholas. Manent Lod. and Bunch, who haue whispered.
Lod.
But are my wife and daughter gone indeed
For London? and haue paide the debt we ought?
Bunch.
By my sheeres, (and thats a shauing oath)
They are gone for London, they haue paide Yacob:
But they shall loose their labour,
Because you are not in England.
Lod
But I will send, or I will soone be there,
I must not liue diuided from my ioy.
Bunch.
And yet I thinke you liue well
By this Science of Sextenship:
Lord, do not you pray that the pippe may catch the people,
That you may caine many groats for making graues?
Your Church wardens finde bell-ropes,
And you hands to shake them
Lod.
Th'art a mad fellow; but how knewst thou mee,
In this disguise?
Bunch.
Tut well ynough; But harke the Viccar calls.
Lod.
Come Bunch, weell finde more time to talke annon:
Exeunt.
Enter Hernandos Don Hugo and Mercury disguisde, in priuate conference with Hernando, with Souldiours.
Her.
I like thy words, and though I recke not much
The death of any priuate man in France,
Because in multitudes consists our glory:
Yet to make knowne how we do cherish such
As will in any sort reuolt to vs,
Kill Epernoune as thou hast vndertane,
And thy reward shall be a Tunne of gold.
Mer.
Hernando I will do it, not so much
For mony, as for zeale I beare to Spaine,
Though I confesse the principall reason
That vrgeth me being a French man borne,
So to forget the loue my Country claimes,
Is the vnsufferable wrongs I beare,
The wrongs that Epernoune hath done to mee,
And in that point I hold it no disgrace
To malice him, that first dishonour'd mee.
Her.
Why true, thy reason is substantiall.
For say a Father do forget to shewe
The loue by nature he doth owe his sonne,
In my opinion tis no sinne at all,
If such a sonne cast off the awfull dutie
Which to his Father otherwise were due.
In all things iust proportion must be kept.
If the king care not for the Common-wealth,
Why should the Common-wealth respect the king?
But to the purpose: how wilt thou contriue
The manner of his death?
Mer.
Why as I told your grace
In this daies parley twixt the French and you,
Whilst you are busie, ile insert my selfe
Amongst the souldiers of that aged Earle,
And gathering neere his person, suddenly
Thus send my poyniard to his hatefull brest.
Stay his arme.
Hugo.
What didst thou meane to wound our Generall?
Her.
Silence Don Ugo, no such matter man,
He is a villaine, and weele vse him so.
Mer.
I am indifferent, had I spilt his bloud,
It was my comming: but preuented thus:
Now Epernoune shall be the marke I aime at;
For one I vow, though to haue slaine them both
Had bene exceeding good: how now my Lord?
Misconster not, I meant your grace no hurt,
Though mine inkindled fury when I thought
Of Epernoune, made me draw forth my ponyard,
It was to shewe how resolute I am.
Her.
I know it was, sound we parley then,
That Epernoune may know we are in place,
Where conference was appointed to be had:
And as they march, fall thou in ring with them.
Enter Epernoune carried in his Chaire, and souldiers marching.
Now Cripple what your legges refuse to doo,
I know your hands will presently performe.
I meane, deliuer me the Crowne of France.
Eper.
Raise me a litle, fellowes in my chaire,
Hernando, what saidst thou? deliuer thee
The Crowne of France? why stragling Spaniard
What makes thee ouerweene thy valour so?
Thinkes thou because I seeme a witherd tree
That I am saplesse quite? no Duke, there liues
Within this riueld flint some sparkes of fire,
Which if thou touch, will flie into thy face.
Nor do not thou contemne me for mine age,
This eye is not so dimme, but I perceiue
The markes of arrogance vpon thy browe:
I, and for frowne, I can returne thee frowne.
What glory not so much vpon thy strength,
The day hath bene this body which thou seest
Now falling to the earth, but for these proppes
Hath made as tall a souldier as your selfe
Totter within his saddle: and this hand
Now shaking with the palsie, caske the beuer
Of my proud Foe, vntill he did forget
What ground he stood vpon: go too, go too,
The Crowne of France deliuerd to thy hand?
Good King, how is thy dignitie blasphemde?
But do thy worst, I am his Substitute,
And though I cannot strike, yet with a becke
Can I raise vp more fists about thine eares
Than thou hast haires vpon thy tawny scalpe.
Her.
Am I reuilde and bafled to my face,
And by a Dotard? one but for his tongue,
In whom there is no difference twixt himselfe,
A meere Anothomie, a Iack of lent,
And the pale Image of a bloudlesse ghoast?
Yet doth he looke as big as Hercules,
And would be thought to haue a voice like thunder.
Well Epernoune, there is a priuiledge
That babes may speake their pleasure without check,
Else quickly should my sword breake off this parlie,
And with a fillip send thee to thy graue.
Eper.
Callest a me backe? it neuer shall be said,
But Epernoune will shew himselfe a man,
And whil'st the breath is in his nosthrills, proue
A reall substance, and maintaine the right
Of Lewis of Fraunce, euen by the dint of sword:
Lend me your hands, Ile chalenge him the fight.
Twit me with babe? lend me your hands I say.
1. Sol.
Ah good my Lord presume not, you are weake.
Eper.
Weake knaue? thou liest.
Her.
Get him a standing stoole,
And then perhaps the child will learne to goe.
Eper.
Yet child againe? alack it will not be,
My heart is good inough, but tirant age
Benummes those instruments with which my heart
Should execute the office of a Knight.
Medyna thou mayest thanke the rigorous hands
Of strength-decaying age: these legges of mine
Had they not proued rebels to my minde,
Ere this I would haue taught thee to vsurpe
Vpon our confines; but what they omit,
Here are both armes and legges to see performd.
1.
Sirrha stand back, know'st thou what manners is?
To presse so neare the person of our Generall?
Mer.
I am a souldier, wherefore may I not?
1.
Shall euery common souldier at a time
When serious matters are determind on,
Betwixt both Armies: impudently thrust
Into the secrets of his Prince? stand backe.
2.
Lay hands vpon the villain, see within his fist,
A naked poyniard.
Eper.
How now countreymen,
What vnexpected mutinie is that?
Her.
A plague vpon't, Don Vgo hees discouerd.
1.
Some treason as it seemes my noble Lord,
This base companion since you first began
To sit in parlie: hath at sundry times
Saucily presumde to vndermine your talke,
And being reprehended for the same,
We found this dagger hid within his sleeue.
Eper.
Doubtlesse he meant to murder me,
Now God be thanked I haue scapt his hands.
Her.
List Epernoune, he is a man of mine,
Touch not a haire of him, least for that haire
I send a hundred thousand of your soules
To dwell in darknesse.
Eper.
How? a man of thine?
Vnlesse I be deceiu'd I know that face,
It is the Traitor Mercury, disguisde.
Her.
Mercury my foe? had I but known so much
I would haue made him sure inough ere this,
But Epernoune, marke what I say to thee,
If thou wilt redeliuer to my hands
That iugling Duke, as I am Gentleman
And true to Spaine, I will depart your land.
Eper.
Deliuer him? not for the wealth of Spaine.
Not for the treasure you do yearely bagge
From both the Indies: but Meayna say,
What reason mou'd thee terme the Duke thy man?
And wherefore didst thou mention redeliuerie,
As though sometime he had bene in thy hand?
Her.
Ile tell thee Epernoune, as I am Knight,
Not sweruing from the truth in any point,
And keeping faith accordingly reward
His traiterous purpose, which is all I craue.
This morning he was brought vnto my Tent,
Where being admitted, openly he shewd
How he had bene disgrac't and wrongd by thee,
For which he promisde, if I would consent
In this dayes parlie, he would murder thee.
I seeing his resolution, was perswaded:
And promising, I needs must say, reward,
Though I do know when he had done the deed,
How I was minded to haue dealth with him,
He thrust himselfe amongst thy followers,
And what the perill is you see your selues,
But all this while I knew not who he was,
More then a priuate discontented person,
For if I had, the wretch had neuer liued
To be an ey-sore to his countreymen.
1.
Oh bloudy practise, souldiers ioyne with me,
And we will teare him peece-meale with our hands.
All the rest.
Agreed: let him not liue a minute longer.
Eper.
Pacifie your selues, not one of you
On paine of our displeasure, once offer
To touch a limbe of him: Ingratefull Duke,
Wherein hath Epernoune deseru'd thy hate,
That thou shouldst basely seek to murder him?
But wherefore aske I that? when tis well knowne,
Thou didst as wrongfully pursue the life
Of noble Lodwick, that true Gentleman,
That very mappe of honourable cariage.
Amend, amend, be sory for thy fault,
That though thy body perish by the law,
Thy wretched soule may haue a place in heauen.
Mer.
Tell not me Epernoune of heauen nor hell,
I am a Peere, and Regent of this Realme,
And thus you ought not to entreat a Prince.
All Soul.
Thou Regent of the Realme? speake that againe,
And we will slit thy weasand with our swords.
Eper.
Souldiers forbeare.
Her.
Nay Epernoune shew iustice,
Vpon that caitiffe, that periured slaue,
That coward Duke, or here I do protest,
For euer I will speake in thy dispraise,
Reporting to the world thou art no Knight,
Nor worthy of the name of Epernoune.
Eper.
My Lord, I may not take vpon my selfe,
To be his iudge, he is a Peere of Fraunce,
And must haue open triall by his Peeres,
But when the King my maister doth returne,
As shortly we are told he meanes to doo,
At his discretion be his punishment.
Meane space Medyna I can do no mote,
But see him safely kept in Iron bands.
Her.
Now that as thou art Knight, and for this day
I do proclaime a sollemne truce with thee,
And not a sword of ours shall hurt the French.
Eper.
As I am Knight, and leadge-man to the King,
He shall be kept in fetters till he come.
Her.
It is inough: now backe vnto our Tents.
Eper.
And we vnto the Citie whence we came,
And for our safetie, praise Iehouas name.
Exeunt.
Enter Uilliers the Merchant, with Oriana and Diana.
Oriana.
How shall we gentle Sir requite the grace
Which in so great necessitie we finde
At your kind hands? but with our daily praiers,
Implore the heauens for your prosperitie?
Dia.
Which we will neuer cease to do, so long
As life remaines in our distressed bodies.
Uil.
These words are needlesse, what I do to you,
The dutie of a Christian bindes me too.
Remember then the promise you haue made,
That if your husband liue not, whom your selues
Do verily imagine to be dead,
That then you are my wife.
Oria.
That promise I will keepe
Vnfeignedly, with hartie thankes to heauen,
That if my husband do not breathe this life,
My miserie yet sorts me at the last
A second choise, so louing and so kind.
Dia.
And I right willingly shall call him Father,
That in such vertuous sort respects our need,
Without impeachment of our honest fame,
Debarring wicked lust to blot the same.
Vil.
When I do otherwise, then as beseemes
The reputation both of your selues and me,
Conuert your loue to me, to deadly hate,
And may all tongues condemne me with reproofe.
Come in then, take possession of your owne,
My lands, my house, my goods and all is yours,
Only my sisters portion, which I haue,
Vpon our troth-plight vow of marriage,
(If so your husband liue not,) set apart
And ordred in a readinesse for her.
Come louely mother, and thy vertuous childe,
When angry stormes are past, the heauens do smile.
Exeunt.
Enter Ferdinand, Odillia, and Lodowicke.
Odil.
Thus Ferdinand I see that we must part.
Ferd.
Our needie state enforceth it sweete heart.
Odil.
Will you to Fraunce?
Ferd.
To Fraunce.
Odil.
And to the warre?
Ferd.
To my aduancement, war must be the meane,
I cannot digge, I haue no handy-craft:
Our coyne is spent, and yet I cannot craue,
And thought of want, your want doth wound my soule,
When I consider what you are.
Odil.
O peace.
What am I but the wife of Ferdinand,
By loue and faith vnto thy fortunes bound?
O let me follow thee to those French warres
Ferd.
O prize your honour and my credit more,
Were it conuenient, we would not diuide:
But as it is. I must goe, you must bide.
Odil.
So sayes discretion, but true loue repines,
That want should seuer those whom he combines,
But pardon sweete, my speech is spent in vaine,
You must depart, when will ye come againe?
Ferd.
Soone, if successe do answere my desire.
Odil.
Youle write to mee?
Ferd.
As oft as I can send.
Odil.
Youle leaue me heere?
Ferd.
With this assured friend,
Whose kindnesse in abundance we haue found.
Lod.
A lasse good sir, my meanes are weake ye know,
In sooth I am no richer then I show:
Were wishes wealth, your want should be supplide,
And haue no power your persons to diuide.
For I protest, in all my life before,
I nere saw two whom I affected more.
But this addes waight to mourners leaden griefe,
Words may bemoane, but cannot giue reliefe.
For part you must, extremitie to shunne,
In warres is wealth and honour to be wonne.
Odil.
And fame, and death, and then am I vndonne.
Lod.
Why death dwells here, you see my daily trade,
For men of peace how many graues are made:
Your spowse with wealth and worship may returne,
And bring you ioy, that at his parting mourne.
Hope so, and hinder not his good intent,
That for his honour, and your welfare's meant.
O that my cottage where ye must remaine,
Were (for your sake) the glorioust house in Spaine:
But as it is, your owne it is, and I
Your poore poore host will tend you carefully.
But I am tedious in perswasion,
And you foreslow the present times occasion.
Odil.
O do not mount him on the wings of hast
That goes too soone.
Ferd.
Dearest, mine houre is past,
You gaue me leaue to goe, reuoke it not,
By lingring here theres no good fortune got.
Odil.
Youle weare my fauour?
Ferd.
Else let heauen hate me.
Odil.
Farewell sweete heart.
Ferd.
Deare Loue God comfort thee.
Father, I leaue my Iewell in your hand.
Ferd. is going.
Lod.
I will be carefull.
Odil.
Sweete heart, Ferdinand.
Ferd.
What sayes Odillia?
Odil.
Nothing but God-buoy ye.
Exit. Ferdinand.
Lod.
Such loth farewell my wife and daughter tooke:
God blesse them both, and send vs well to meete.
Take comfort Lady, though this houre be sad,
His safe returne with wealth, may make you glad.
Enter Sir Nicholas and Bunch: Sir Nicholas hath a Paper in his hand.
Ni.
Bunch.
Ni.
Odil.
Ni.
to all his Lands, Liberties and places of authoritie in this Realme
of Fraunce. Dated the last of May, &c. Subscribed by Epernoune
and other.
Ni.
Bunch.
Lod.
Heare me one word good maister ere ye goe,
And graunt me one petition, which is short.
All these French Crownes dare I assure mine owne:
For I do know where that poore Duke remaines,
And will present him to old Epernoune.
My sute is, that youle take this honest Bunch
To be your Sexton whilest I am away.
Ni.
I am content, giue Bunch the Church-doore key,
Vpon condition thou wilt say
Euen-song to the Parish this afternoone,
And read that publication to them.
Then go thy way to morrow if thou wilt:
Lord how time passes: In my conscience I burne day-light,
Tis one a clocke at least. Fare ye well, fare ye well,
I come yfaith lads, I come, though I come late,
I hope to lie as neare the Mistresse as any of ye all.
Exit.
Bunch.
Lod.
Heere take the key, and toll to Euening prayer,
Ile do my maisters bidding ere I goe.
Bunch.
Exit.
Odil.
And will you goe and leaue me here alone
My onely friend, now Ferdinand is gone?
Lod.
Ask of your thoughts if they can counsel keep:
Which if vpon your honour you assure,
You shall pertake a secret very straunge.
Odil.
My faith and honour be engag'd for it.
Lod.
Exterior showes expresse not alwaies truth,
Nor do imaginations euer faile:
My Sextons case doth clowde Nobilitie.
And (if opinion do not reason wrong)
Rich noble bloud flowes through your pure cleare veines,
Which conceit drawes these secrets from my soule.
That fortunes scorne, that sorrow-tossed Duke
Lodwick of Bulloigne tells this tale to you
That can conceiue, conceale, and counsell mee.
Say Lady, (for I know you are no lesse)
Haue I not cause when Proclamation tells,
That Lodwick shall receiue redresse of wrongs?
To claime the due that ther vnto belongs?
Odil.
Great cause my Lord, and I to be content,
In this poore Coate to rest me patient,
Vntill my husband come or send for me.
Lod.
O had these tydings come ere he had gone,
Then he nor I had trauelled alone:
For Lady, I affirme it constantly,
I loue the Gentleman religiously,
Which in my bettered fortunes he shall find,
And then to you I purpose to be kind:
Then what you are, speake freely your faire mind.
Odil.
Emanuell Duke of Brabant calld me child,
Till him for loue my Ferdinand beguild.
Lod.
I said and knew ye were no vulgar Dame,
For sparkes of honour will burst into flame:
Haplesse Odillia, but most fortunate,
Compar'd with my poore wiues and daughters state.
Odil.
Where be those Ladies? let me them attend.
Lod.
O knew I where, all griefe were at an end:
I heare, that London is their mansion place.
Odil.
But shall they not be sent for by your grace?
Lod.
Not yet Odillia, first Ile visit France:
Where if good starres my state do readuance,
And graunt me power to free my natiue soyle,
From those that now her wealth and beautie spoyle:
I may with comfort then call home my Ioy,
Till then, their sight will but reuiue annoy.
Odil.
What can you prize so highly as their sight?
Lod.
Women discerne not mens affaires aright:
I prize mine honour, and my countreys good,
More than wife, children, or my proper blood.
A Bell tolls within.
Harke the Bell tolls, the Sexton I must play
By promise once, to morrow Ile away.
Let me receiue some token at your hand,
That I may carrie vnto Ferdinand:
And this forget not, for a small end,
To come to vs if we for you do send.
Exeunt.
Enter Epernoune brought in, in his chayre.
So from this place I shall behold the fight
Betwixt both Armies: now go one of you,
And with our Leaders presently giue charge,
The other stay with me: Oh might the sight
Of Epernoune, be like the noone-tide Sun,
With the reflection of his feeble eye,
To melt like waxe the courage of our foes,
And make the French men stiffe as Adamant:
Then could my heart excuse mine idle hands,
That they beare not a part in this conflict.
But now defiance from each partie flies.
Sound Trumpet first.
Enter Ferdinand pursuing Don Hugo, cutting him soundly.
A valiant Gentleman what ere thou art,
And by mine honour very nobly fought:
I haue not seene in all my life before,
So young, a tender, and effeminate face,
Father such rough and manly fortitude,
How like a waightie hammer did his sword
Fall on the Spaniards shrinking burgonet?
That had he not betooke him to his heeles,
This houre had bene his latest houre of life.
Alarum.
Enter Ferdinand againe, pursuing Don Hugo.
What still in chace? he will not giue him ore
Till he hath slaine, or made him yeeld I see:
A right begotten cockrell of the game.
Whence may he come? as I remember me,
I neuer sawe him in our campe till now.
I prithee goe raunge, through our battaile rankes,
And when you ouertake him, gently craue
He will vouchsafe to come and speake with me.
My heart's enamourd on his valourous deeds,
Spaniard, some more of such a haughtie breed,
Would make the stoutest of your hearts to bleed.
Enter Ferdinand.
And here he comes, faire bud of Chiualrie.
Welcome to Epernoune, giue me your hand,
I thanke you euen with all my very heart,
For this good seruice you haue done ro day.
Are you of Fraunce I pray you, or what place,
Is honourd by your noble parentage?
Fer.
I am (my Lord) the Duke of Brabants subiect,
A younger brother, whose inheritance
Is litle more then what his sword shall purchace,
And for that cause, admonisht of these warres
Betweene the haughtie Spaniard and this Realme,
The noble Burbon gaue me entertaine.
Eper.
Are you his souldier? trust me for his sake,
I loue you better then I did before,
And for some confirmation of my loue,
Take this in earnest of a greater good.
Fer.
I humbly thanke your Lordship, and will rest
A faithfull seruitor to Fraunce and you.
Eper.
Nay stay a while, refresh your weary limbes,
A litle intermission will do well,
Amidst these sweating gorboyles: holy roode
There runnes a thought into my labouring minde,
Which from my heart sends gladnesse to mine eyes.
Me thinkes the more I view this Gentleman,
The more he doth resemble Bulloignes Duke,
The vertuous Lodwick both for face and limbe,
When he and I were fellow-mates in armes,
Against the Turke, such deeds of hardiment,
Did Lodwick shew as he hath done this day.
Euen such a iesture had he when he talkt,
As milde and affable in time of peace,
As he was sterne and boistrous in the warres.
All these apparant in this towardly youth,
Earle Lodowicks want doth wet my cheekes with iuth.
A shoute within, enter a Souldier.
What meanes this chearefull shoute?
Sol.
My Lord,
The battle of the Spaniards is disperst:
Beside, I bring to you this happie newes,
The worthy Duke of Bulloigne long desirde,
And much bewailed for his iniurie,
Liues and returnd about an houre since.
At his first comming, armd in complete steele,
Chaleng'd the Duke Medyna at his Tent,
And there in single combat like himselfe,
And like a father of his countreys weale,
Hath slaine that proude disturber of our peace:
For which the Souldiers as you heard my Lord,
Did fill the ayre with their applausiue shoutes:
Thronging about him in such clustering heapes,
To see his face and do him reuerence,
As scarce he hath free passage to this place.
Eper.
Oh that I had or legges, or wings to flie,
That I might quickly satisfie mine eie
With sight of him whose companie's more worth
Then heapes of countlesse, and vnvalued Treasure.
But wher's the other Leader of that route,
Surnam'd Don Ugo, is he scapte the field?
Sol.
This Gentleman before Medyna dyed,
Gaue him his pasport to his longest home.
But my good Lord, I almost had forgot
The latter part of my behouefull message,
There is a straunger Duke of whence, my haste
Suffred me not to be instructed,
That likewise came with aide vnto our Campe,
And is well knowne vnto my Lord of Bulloigne.
Eper.
Now if I were inclosde within my graue,
I would as willingly forsake the world,
As wofull prisoners many yeares deteind
In darke obscuritie, could be content
To chaunge the dungeon for a publike walke.
But first let vs embrace our louing friend.
Sol.
Your honor may sit still, hees comming hither.
Enter Lodwick, Emanuell Duke of Brabant with souldiers.
Eper.
Right worthy Duke, whose victories euer shonne
Through cloudes of enuy, and disaster chaunge,
Make rich my bosome with imbalming thee,
And wherein ought my restraines my faltring tongue
Let vowes for words distinguish my content.
Welcome, oh welcome to vngouernd Fraunce,
Whose working garment of afflicting warre,
Is now cast off, and she hath gyrt her selfe
In peacefull robes of holiday attire.
And you my Lord of Brabant as I thinke?
Bra.
Your friend Lord Epernoune in what he may.
Eper.
Welcome in sooth, your presence with the rest,
Hath made me happie, and my countrey blest.
Lod.
These greetings reuerend Earle, exceed desert,
Had it bene Lodwicks fortune to haue donne
Ten times more seruice then this dayes exployt:
It might not be sufficient to redeeme
The lack of his endeuours all this while.
But heauen and you I hope will pardon me,
Considering I was forc't from hence to flie.
Eper.
I and most wrongfully inforc't my Lord,
But he that was the author of that ill,
The traytrous Duke of Aniou, by iust heauens,
Now at your mercie stands, one fetch him forth,
And Lodwick repossessed in the place,
If that authoritie his highnesse gaue;
Iudge and condemne according as you please.
Lod.
No, let him still be prisoner where he is,
Your wisedome hath discouerd his abuse,
And our dread Soueraigne shall determine it:
Were it my wrongs were greater then they are
I will not be a factor for my selfe.
Now, what is he my Lord of all this traine,
By whom our other enemie was slaine?
Don Ugo de Cordoua: faine would I
Know that braue Gentleman, and for the same,
Adde somewhat more vnto his honourd name.
Eper.
Therein my Lord, I shall account my selfe,
Much pleasurd by your grace: and this is he,
My Lord of Brabants subiect as he said.
Bra.
My subiect? traitrous villaine how he lies,
But I will be reueng'd vpon his crimes.
What may I call your name young Gentleman?
Fer.
My name is Ferdinand.
Lod.
I know it well,
And litle thinkes he tis the Sextons hands
Draws forth a sword to giue him Knight-hood here:
But I am glad it is my fortunes chaunce,
To be of power to shew him any grace,
Whom I admir'd when first I saw his face.
Kneele downe young Ferdinand, and now againe,
Rise vp Sir Ferdinando, Lodwicks Knight.
Bra.
And rise withall base Ferdinand, false wretch,
Viler then puddle durt, thou spring of hate:
Neuer begot but of some dunghill churle.
Durst thou auow thou wast my subiect? durst
That impious tongue pronounce my name,
Whom thou hast most ingratefully incenst?
Villaine, more abiect than thought can decipher,
But I am glad that we are met at last.
Here in this presence I do chalenge thee
Of most notorious fellony and theft:
Let me haue iustice on this fugitiue
You Peeres of Fraunce, or else you iniure me.
Lod.
What moues the noble Brabant to this rage?
Eper.
Oh wherfore staine you vertue and renowne
With such foule tearmes of ignomy and shame?
Bra.
Vertue my Lords? you guild a rotten sticke,
You spread faire honours garments on the ground,
And dignifie a loathsome swine with Pearle.
This shadow of a seeming Gentleman,
This glosse of pietie, deceiues your sight:
Hees nothing so, nor so, but one my Lords,
Whom I haue fostred in my Court of almes.
And to requite my carefull indulgence,
Hath Iudaslike betrai'd his maisters life,
And stolne mine onely daughter to allay
The sensuall fire of his inkindled lust:
For which, let me haue iustice, and the law.
Lod.
You shall haue iustice, though I cannot thinke,
So faire a shape hath had so foule a forge.
Eper.
Alack the day, misfortune should so soone
Disturbe our friendship was so well begunne:
Come hither Ferdinand, and tell me truth
If thou be guiltie as the Duke informes?
Fer.
I not denie my Lord, but I am married
Vnto Odillia, though vnworthy farre
Of such a gracious blessing: yet her loue
Was forward in the choise as well as mine.
Bra.
See how he goes about to cloake the fact
With loue and marriage? no adulterous swaine,
Your hedge-betroathing couenant shall not serue.
Where is your sweete companion, where is she?
But we will talke of that an other time.
Why is my Lord of Bulloigne so remisse,
And will not presently be giuen in charge,
A paire of boltes be clapt vpon his heeles?
Lod.
Without offence my Lord vnto your grace,
My selfe will vndertake to be his bayle,
And he shall answere if you so be pleasde,
Your accusation when you will appoint
A day of hearing; be it to morrow next.
Bra.
And euen to morrow let his triall be,
I will no longer haue the cause deferd.
Exit.
Eper.
And Ferdinando, in this time of need,
Old Epernoune will stand thee in some steed.
Good Duke of Bullen, vse him kindly yet,
Whil'st I do follow this incensured Lord,
And try if teares may driue him to accord.
Exit.
Lod.
Now Ferdinand, heres none but you and I,
Know you not mee?
Fer.
I cannot call it to my mind my Lord,
That euer I did see your grace till now.
Lod.
Bethinke your selfe, looke better on my face.
Fer.
There is my Lord, with pardon be it spoke,
A man in Ards, a Sezton of a Church,
With whom I had acquaintance, he me thinkes
Is somewhat like your excellence, or else
I do not know where I haue seene your fauour.
Lod.
The Sexton there is Duke of Bulloigne here:
Be not abasht, twas I to whom you left
Your faire Odilliæ, and tis I can witnesse,
That you and she are lawfull man and wife.
This may be some defence against the streame
Of angry Brabant, that pursues your life.
Come, I haue send in priuate for the dame,
And by all meanes to shield you both from shame.
Exeunt.
Enter Sir Nicholas with a Letter, Odillia with a Letter in her hand, Bunch, and Nuntio.
Ni.
And must we thus (faire Lady) forgo your sweet cōpany?
Odil.
You see my Lord of Bulloigne sends for me,
With him remaines my husband Ferdinand,
So you perceiue how much it me concernes,
To leaue this place to better my estate.
Ni.
Bunch.
Aside.
Nuntio.
Bunc.
Odil.
Ni.
worke for me. The Duke knowes my minde as well as if I did
write: if he haue a better Benefice or two for me, tell him I will
come.
Bunch.
Odil.
Bunch.
Odil.
We stay too long, Sir Nicholas, farewell,
And farewell Bunch.
Exeunt Odillia and Nuntio.
Bunch.
Hartily to you: pray ye condemn me to your husband
M. farting Androw.
Ni.
Ferdinando, Bunch, thou misterm'st his name.
Bunch.
Ni.
Let that passe amongst the rest of my veniall sinnes,
And tell me Bunch, tell me, where's the best licker?
Bunch.
At the greene Dragon gentle maister Viccar.
Ni.
Will the Dragon sting?
Bunch.
From the head to the heele,
He will sting your braine so, that heele make your seete reele.
Ni.
Lets go play for two pots, away Bunch away.
Bunch.
Then the Parish is like to haue no seruice to day.
Exeunt.
Enter Lodwick, Emanuell, Epernoune in his chaire, Frederick with the Prouost and a Headsman.
Bra.
My Lord of Bulloigne, many things might vrdge
Your speed of Iustice, for so iust a wrong,
As the regard of your owne princely state,
In case of him that is an equall Peere,
The right of Princes, which should vnder-prop
An honourable and direct reuenge.
I could perhaps say, were it not in Iustice,
The bloud of Brabant, should deserue of Bulloigne:
But I disrobe and strip off all regard,
And lay my wrongs as nakedly before you,
As comes an Infant borne into the world.
Lod.
My Lord of Brabant, what I freely vrdge,
Is not to to stop or turne the course of Iustice,
Which must sway all our actions, and must stand
Steady and fixed in one certaine point:
But onely be entreatie to your grace,
To supple your proceeding in this case.
Eper.
My Lord of Brabant, may old Epernoune
By license of my Lord, the Duke of Bulloigne
Haue leaue to speake, an old foole that I am,
By your good patience let me say my minde.
Now by my troath I cannot speake for teares.
Alasse, alasse, theres something I would say,
Now God helpe age, would I were in my graue.
Iustice may cut off Ferdinand, where is he?
O art thou there poore man? alasse, alasse:
Iustice may cut him off, Ile not denie,
But turne him with his sword amongst his foes,
And he that buyes his life shall buy it deare.
Alasse poore boy, would I could do thee good:
Oh to see him leade an Armie in the field,
Would make a man young, were as old as I.
I would thou hadst dyed where I saw thee last,
Euen in the midst of all the Spanish Armie,
On that condition I had dide with thee:
God helpe, God helpe, an ill mischance soone falles,
And still the weakest goe vnto the walles.
Bra.
Defer me not my Lord, let me haue Iustice.
Lod.
My Lord you must haue Iustice, that you know,
But yet my Lord of Brabant, might our loue
Rebate this sharpe edge of your bitter wrath:
With what an easie sweetnesse should our iudgement
Be relished of euery gentle heart?
Bra.
My Lord of Bulloigne vrge me not with pittie,
He against whom I am thus pittilesse
Robd me of pittie: proceed vnto your iudgement.
Eper.
God help, pittie is banisht from the earth I see,
Thou pittiest none, nor no man pitties thee.
Bra.
Old man thou doatest.
Eper.
Thou art a naughtie Lord, I tel thee Brabant,
The day hath bene thou durst not tell me so.
Lod.
Haue patience gentle father, true noble Lord,
He will haue death: whose there?
Commaund the Lady presently be brought.
Lodwick ascends, the Lady is brought in.
Bra.
Lodwick of Bulloigne, is it not inough
Thou hast delaid me in the case of Iustice,
But bringst this hatefull whore vnto my sight
To vex and grieue my soule? I tell thee Bulloigne,
Thou wrongst mine honour with indignitie.
Fre.
Ah were it any tongue that calld thee so
But his Odillia, I would make that word
Hereticall and full of blasphemie.
Bra.
My Lord of Bulloigne, I will not abide her.
Lod.
My Lord you must abide her, since for her
You seeke the life of this young Ferdinand,
Sift lawe so stricktly, follow the offence,
Take all aduantage of your euidence.
Eper.
Now by my troath a goodly wench indeed:
Alas poore Earle, faire Princesse speake thy mind
And Ile stand by thy side, and yet I cannot,
Ah this whorson age, well, well.
Hee weepes.
Bra.
I will not heare her speake.
Lod.
All's one my Lord of Brabant, we will heare her:
Speake freely Princesse, and without controll.
Odis.
Right reuerend Lord, if onely for my sake,
My father seeke the death of Ferdinand,
I heere acquit my husband of the fault,
Although I cannot of the punishment.
I was the theefe, I was the rauisher,
And I am onely guiltie of the fact.
How like a robber did I lie in waite
With beautie to entrap his gentle youth?
And like a spirit when he hath walkt alone,
How was I euer tempting him to loue?
How with my fauour did I worke his breast,
Which at the first was stubborne, Iron, cold,
Till I brought his heart to supple temper,
To take the soft impression of affection?
With these allurements would I oft entice him,
Though thou be base, my loue shall make thee noble:
Though thou be poore, my power shall make thee rich:
Though thou be scornd, my state shall make thee reuerenc'd.
Let any of you all thinke with himselfe,
Were he so meane, so friendlesse, and vnknowne.
Wooed by a virgin Princesse of my birth,
So young, so great, so rich, as is my selfe:
Thinkes he, he would not do as he hath done?
Hees guiltlesse of the fault: I was the cause,
Let me endure the rigor of your lawes.
Fer.
O thou doest wound my loue with too much louing.
Thy beautie is not prized but with death:
That man hath not a soule, that would not die,
One houre t'enioy thy blessed company.
Eper.
Nay, I must weep out these poore eyes are left,
I neuer saw a cause so full of pittie.
Bra.
My Lord proceed, the law adiudges death
To him that steales the heire of any Prince,
That's not a Prince that doth commit the act.
He is my slaue, one that was found by me
Being a child, not fully two yeares old,
And as't should seeme, begot in bastardie,
And by the parents to that wicked fruite,
Left in the Riuers segges, there to be drownd,
What time the warres in Burgundy fell out,
And that my Dutchesse perisht in the flight,
Nor neuer did I know what was his name,
Being so young, he could not tell the same:
Onely vpon his muckiter and band, he had an F.
By which I did suppose his name was Ferdinand,
And so I nam'd him.
Lod.
O blessed heauen, what sound is this I heare?
My litle boy was lost euen at that time:
Iust of that age, and by that Riuers side,
Whose name was christned Fredericke, by my father,
And had an F. on euery thing he wore.
It is my sonne, be silent yet a while.
My Lord of Brabant, then I take exception
Both vnto your enditement, and your plea.
Bra.
As how my Lord of Bulloigne? do me iustice.
Lod.
He is encited by the name of Ferdinand,
And I will proue him christned Fredericke,
And thus is your enditement ouerthrowne.
Bra.
It is a fallacie my Lord of Bulloigne,
He hath bene euer called by that name.
Bulloigne, do me Iustice, or by heauen
It is not Fraunce shall hold thee, impious Duke.
Lod.
Nay if ye be so hotte my Lord of Brabant,
Then to your plea that doth concerne him most.
The lawe is this, that he shall loose his head,
That steales away the heire of any Prince,
If not a Prince that doth commit the rape.
Bra.
So is my plea.
Lod.
I graunt but voyd in this.
He is a Prince that stole away thy daughter,
This is not Ferdinand, but Frederick:
The heire of Bulloigne, and my onely sonne,
Ah my sweete boy, ah my deare Frederick:
Here now I stand, and here doth stand my boy,
In Christendome let any two that dare
Auerre it to the father and the sonne,
That he is not as great a Prince as Brabant.
Eper.
Nay Ile be one, any three what ere they be,
And Brabant be thou one to answere vs,
Some honest man helpe me to Frederick.
For ioy I shall weepe out mine eyes.
Bra.
Bulloigne, how doest thou know him for thy sonne?
Lod.
Why Cousin Brabant, you say you found him
Hid in the segs by the Riuer: euen at that instant,
And at the very place, the Dutchesse my deare sister perished:
With whom my litle boy was at that time,
The place, the instant, and his certaine age,
The letters set to signifie his name,
The very manner of your finding him
When you departed from me with your Armie,
In the pursuite of traytrous Mercurie.
These all affirme that he is onely mine.
Bra.
My Lord of Bulloigne, I embrace your loue,
In all firme and true brotherly affection:
I make your sonne my sonne, my daughter yours,
And do intreat in Princely curtesie,
Old griefe henceforth, no more be thought vpon.
Lod.
Deare brother Brabant, your true princely kindnesse
Doth but forestall, what I would haue requested.
Right noble Prince, I giue you Frederick,
And I accept your sweete Odillia.
Come, thou art now the Duke of Bulloignes daughter,
Thy husband is the Duke of Brabants sonne,
Thou shalt be now my care, my sonne thy fathers.
Thus do we make exchaunge betwixt each others,
Thus should it be, betwixt two louing brothers.
Eper.
Nay, nay, let me be one I pray you Lords,
I haue no child left to inherit mine
When I shall die, as long I cannot liue,
I freely giue them all that ere I haue.
He weepes.
Lod.
A thousand thankes, true noble Epernoune:
Brother of Brabant, Frederick, and faire Princesse,
Imbrace this noble Lord, and hold him deare.
All together.
Our father, guide, and comfort we you call,
And be you euer honoured of vs all.
Enter Villiers, Oriana, and Diana.
Uil.
Iustice my Lord of Bulloigne, I beseech you.
Bul.
My friend, what is thy cause, then let vs know,
Sit downe good brother Brabant, and the rest.
Vil.
My Lord, my sute is here against a widow
That I haue long time su'd in way of marriage.
Bul.
Let me with iudgement view this woman well.
Aside.
Stay let me see, it is my Oriana,
And my poore Dyan, my deare loued Girle.
Alasse poore soules, what woe and miserie
Haue ye endured since I left you last?
I will forbeare my knowledge till I see
To what effect this cause will sort vnto.
Tell on your case: of whence, and whats your name?
Vil.
I am of Rochell, and my name Villiers.
Lod.
Of what profession?
Vil.
A Merchant I, my honourable Lord.
Ori.
But though you be a Merchant, I beleeue
Here is some ware you must not deale withall.
Thinkst thou Dyana, my deare Lord thy father,
Will know vs in this Seampsters poore disguise?
Dya.
Madam, I know not, for much time is past
Since he at Newkerk parted with vs last.
She must be widow if the Merchants wife,
But by this match I thinke hee'll hardly thriue.
Lod.
M. Villiers, you shall haue Iustice sir,
Speake in your cause you haue free libertie.
Vil.
My Lord of Bulloigne, thus then stands my case,
This Gentlewoman whom my sute concernes,
Being embark'd for England with her daughter,
To seeke her husbands as she made report,
Twixt Sluice in Flaunders where she went aboord,
And Goodwines Sands, by sturdie aduerse windes,
Was beaten backe vpon the coast of Fraunce,
And came to Rochell, where my dwelling is.
I taking liking of her, entertaind her,
Let her a house conuenient as I thought,
And lent her mony to supply her wants,
And afterwards wonne by affection,
I did solicite her in way of marriage,
But still she did deferre me with delaies,
Because she said her husband still did liue:
But for my kindnes if her husband died,
She told me then, I was the likest to speed.
She hauing got some mony by her needle,
Desired me to let her haue a lease:
The lease was drawne, to which she put her name
Widow, which here her owne hand testifies:
Which being thus confessed by herselfe,
I by her promise claime her for my wife.
Lod.
The case is plaine.
Oria.
That he shall go without mee.
Lod.
Lady, what way haue you to auoyd this bond?
Here is your hand set to confirme the deed.
Oria.
But not my heart: and that I will be sworne.
Heer's one I thinke, that hath had that too long
To leaue it now, or else I haue more wrong.
Vnto the Scriuener I referd the same,
And he put that word, widow to my name.
I humbly do intreat your highnes fauour,
For if you knew where I had dwelt before,
I thinke you would do that for me, and more.
Lod.
Speak gentlewoman, where haue you bin bred?
Oria.
I was attending in my yonger yeares,
And this sweet Girle, though now thus mean & poore
Vpon the Duchesse, the Dukes wife of Bulloigne,
Though I say it, one that she loued once,
Whilst she did flourish in prosperitie:
And had not fortune much impaird her state,
I had not now stood in such need of friends.
She weepes.
But when the greatest into daunger falles,
The weakest still did go vnto the walles.
Lod.
Tis very true, that haue I tried my selfe,
Thy teares no longer can conceale my loue.
Rise Oriana, rise my sweete Dyana,
Lodwicks true wife, and his right vertuous.
Imbrace thy lost sonne Frederick once more,
Whom we supposed neuer to haue seene.
With him receiue a daughter, Brabants heire,
He hath bene foster-father to thy boy,
And both are here to full compleat our ioy.
Oria.
My deare Frederick?
Dia.
My beloued brother?
Fre.
Oh happie Frederick finding such a mother,
And such a sister, father, friends and all,
Neuer a man did better fortune fall.
Lod.
How say you M. Merchant? is your suite voyd
In lawe or no? is she a widow now?
Vil.
No my good Lord, and I reioyce thereat.
Lod.
Thankes, but we will requite thy loue and kindnesse
Extended to them in necessitie:
And our reward thou shalt haue liberally.
Enter a Messenger.
What newes with thee, thou commest in such haste:
Mes.
His highnesse from his holy Pilgrimage
Is home returnd, and doth require your presence.
Lod.
That's but our dutie, welcome is our King,
His highnesse now shall sentence traitrous Aniou,
According as his trecheries deserue,
And all our ioyes shall be disclosde to him,
That haue so happily this day befalne.
Thus time the saddest heart from sorrow calles,
And helpes the weake, long thrust vnto the walles.
Exeunt.
King.
How long shall I intreate? how long my Lords,
Will you detaine our holy Pilgrimage?
Are not our vowes already registerd
Vpon th'vnualued Sepulchre of Christ,
And shall your malice and inueterate hate
Like a contrarious tempest still diuorse
Our soule, and her religious chaste desires?
If it be treason to attempt by force,
To take from me this earthly Crowne of mine,
What is it when you studie to depriue
My soule of her eternall Dyadem?
Oh did you but regard my iust demaund,
Or would like subiects tender your Kings zeale,
You could not choose but entertaine a peace.
Why frowne you then? why do your sparkling eyes
Dart mortall arrowes in each others face?
Am I a friend, and can I not perswade?
Am I King, and shall I not preuaile?
Aniou be pacified, and Bullen leaue
To feed thy swelling stomake with contempt.
Lod.
Your grace doth know (with pardon be it spoken)
My wrongs are such, as I haue cause to frowne,
Nor can you blame me if I loath his sight
That was the butcher of my brothers life.
In Burgundie what slaughters did he make?
Philip supprest, did not their bloudy hands
Extend to women and resistlesse babes?
Amongst the rest, was not the Dutchesse drownd?
And that which drawes continuall flouds of teares
From these mine eyes: and daily doth assaile
My feeble heart with neuer dying griefe,
Miscarried not young Fredericke my sonne?
Ah was not he vntimely by their meanes
Cutte off, that should haue comforted mine age?
Poore boy, whose pitteous speaking eye
Might haue bene able to haue turnd the hearts
Of sauage Lyons: yet they sparde him not.
Ki.
Ah speake no more of Burgundies discease,
Nor wake the quiet slumber of thy sonne,
But with the gray decrepit haires of thine
That are expir'd since Fredericke was intomb'd,
With his deare Aunt amidst the licquid waues,
Let slip the memorie of that mishap,
And now forget it, and forgiue it too.
Lod.
Although I must confesse the least of these
Incumbant euills, is argument inough
To whet the bluntest stomacke to reuenge:
Yet that your highnesse may perceiue my mind
Doth sauour of mildnesse and compassion,
And that the Bullen Duke may nere be found
To be a Traitor to his Kings commaund,
There is my dagger, and Ile lay my hand
Vnder the foote of Aniou where he treades,
And I will do it to deserue your loue.
Ki.
Wee thanke thee Bullen for thy kind respect,
But he that should be formost to set ope
The gate of mercie, and let friendship in,
Vpon whose head redounds the whole reproach
Of all these iniuries, swolne bigge with ire:
Mer.
I must dissemble theres no remedie.
K.
Looke Aniou here, and let his summers brow,
Thawe the hard winter of thy frozen heart.
Mer.
Dread soueraigne, Aniou likewise doth submit,
And with repentant thoughts for what is past,
Rests humbly at your Maiesties dispose.
K.
Then take the Duke of Bullen by the hand,
And treading former hatred vnder foote,
Wherewith your houses haue bene still opprest,
Like subiects of your King be reconcil'd.
Mer.
There is my hand Lodwick, the hand of him,
That thought to haue embrewd it in thy bloud,
But now is made the instrument of peace.
Lod.
And there is mine, with which I once did vow,
To sacrifice thy body to pale death,
But now I do embrace thee as a friend.
They embrace.
Mer.
The like doo I, but to an other end,
For Lewis no sooner shall depart from hence,
But straight new deeds of mischiefe Ile commence.
Ki.
This ioyes my soule, and more to let you know
How pleasing this retrait of peace doth seeme,
Till my returne from Palestine againe,
Be you ioynt gouernours of this my Realme,
I do ordaine you both my substitutes:
And herewithall bequeathe into your hands,
The keeping of the Crowne: my selfe adornd
With these abiliments of humble life,
Will forward to performe my promist vow.
Lod.
The God of heauen be still your highnesse guide.
Mer.
And helpe to thrust thy partnership aside.
Ki.
Lodwick, the loue that thou doest beare to vs,
And Mercury, the allegeance thou doest owe,
Now in my absence both of you will showe.
So leauing and relying on your trust,
Exit.
Mer.
Brother of Bullen: so Ile call you now.
For why, this birth of new authoritie
Will haue it so, let me intreat your grace
That youle excuse my sudden haste from hence.
I haue some vrgent cause of great affaires,
That call me to the countrey for a while,
But long it shall not be ere I returne.
Lod.
At your good pleasure he is brother of Aniou,
Yet let me tell you that the iealous work
By this our seperation will misiudge.
Mer.
Not for so short a space, on friday next
I meane God willing to reuisit you.
Lod.
Adiew my Lord: the straunge euents that time
In his continuance often brings to passe:
Not two houres since I would haue sworne he lied,
That would haue tolde me, Aniou and my selfe,
Should euer haue bene heard to enterchaunge
Such friendly conference but my word is past,
And I will keepe my couenant with the King.
Enter two Gentlemen, Petitioners.
1.
God saue your honour.
2.
Health to the Duke of Bullen.
Lod.
Gentlemen y'are welcome, come you with newes?
Or haue you some Petition to the King?
1.
A sute my Lord, which should haue bene preferd
Vnto the King himselfe, but being gone
Vpon his Pilgrimage before we came,
The power now to do vs right remaines
Within your hands: whom as we vnderstand,
His grace hath made Vice-gerent of the Land.
Lod.
What is your suite?
2.
This paper will vnfold,
If please you take perusall of the same
A Pattent seald, for certaine exhibition
Giuen by his highnesse for your seruice done
Against the late inuasion of the English.
1.
True my good Lord.
Lod.
Well I will doo you any good I can:
But Gentlemen, I must be plaine with you,
I am but the halfe part of that authoritie
Which late you spake of: for with me is ioynd
The Duke of Aniou, equally possest.
And he euen now departed from the Court,
But when he doth returne, you shall be sure
To be dispatcht.
2.
When he returnes my Lord?
That will not be I feare, till angry warre
Hath brought destruction on some part of Fraunce.
Lod.
How say you that? till angry warre hath brought
Destruction on some part of Fraunce, why so?
2.
Because my Lord, in secret he hath leuied
A mightie power, which since, as we are told,
Lying not farre from Parris, had in charge
As on this day to meete the Duke at Mullins.
Lod.
A towne neare neighbouring on my territories:
It is euen so, this proud dissembling Duke
Made our reconcilement but a colour
To cloake his treason till the King were gone,
And now his hollow and perfidious dealing,
As when the turffe the Adder lurked in
Is shorne away, begins to shewe it selfe.
It is at me he aimes, the bloud he dranke
In Burgundie will not allay his thirst,
Orleance must administer a fresh supply:
But least my wife and daughter whom I left
Slenderly guarded, fall into his hands,
(Which now is all the comfort I haue left)
Come Gentlemen, I will dispatch your sute,
1.
We will attend vpon your excellence.
Exeunt.
Enter Barnabie Bunch a Botcher, with a paire of sheares, a handbasket with a crosse bottome of thred, three or foure paire of old stockings, peeces of fustian and cloath, & c.
Bunch.
Buoniour in French, is good morrow in English:
true, and therewithall good morrow faire, what? maides?
no, good morrow faire morning: and yet as faire as it lookes
I feare we shall haue raine, these French fleas bite so filthily.
We trauellers are abiect, thats to say, order'd to many misteries
and troubles: I Barnabie Bunch, the Botcher now,
whilome (that is sometime) of a better trade: for I was an
Ale-draper, as Thames and Tower-wharffe can witnesse:
well, God be with them both: my honourable humour to
learne language and see fashions, has lost me many a stout
draught of strong Ale, what at London, what at Grauesend,
where I was borne. This Fraunce I confesse is a goodly
Countrey, but it breeds no Ale hearbes, good water thats
drinke for a horse, and de vine blanket, and de vine Couerlet,
dat is vine Claret for great out-rich cobs. Well fare England,
where the poore may haue a pot of Ale for a penney,
fresh Ale, firme Ale, nappie Ale, nippitate Ale, irregular, secular
Ale, couragious, contagious Ale, alcumisticall Ale.
Well vp with my ware, and downe to my worke, and on to
my song, for a merrie heart liues long.
King Richards gone to Walsingham,
He speakes.
Kate is my goose rosted?
He sings.
To the holy land.
He speakes.
I meane my pressing Iron wench.
To kill Turke and Saracen that the truth do withstand.
He speakes.
Prithee make it hot, I must vse it.
He sings.
Christ his crosse be his good speed, Christ his foes to quell,
He speakes.
Let it not be red hotte Kate.
He sings.
Send him helpe in time of need and to come home well.
O for one pot of mother Bunches Ale, my owne mothers
Ale to wash my throat this mistie morning: it wou'd cleare
my sight, comfort my heart, and stuffe my veines, that I
should not smell the sauour of these stockings: well fare
cleanly. English men yet: these French mens feere haue a
pockie strong sent.
Who be these that run so fearefully? ha? Citizens by the
masse, Citizens, that looke as they were skard.
Iohn Dorrie bought him an ambling Nag to Paris for to ride a,
And happy ere they can seeke & find, for they are gone to hide a.
And happy ere they can seeke & find, for they are gone to hide a.
1.
How blessed is this Botcher that can sing?
When all the Citie is set on sorrowing.
He seekes vp and downe for a place to hide his Plate.
Where shall I hide this litle that I haue,
Whilst speedie flight attempt my life to saue?
2.
O vnexpected sudden miserie,
More bitter made by our securitie:
We vnprouided, and our foes at hand,
The head depres'd how can the body stand?
Seeke.
Where shall I shrowd vnseene this litle pelfe,
Whilest I by flight assay to saue my selfe.
Whom haue we here? my gold will me betray.
Thee must I leaue, with life to steale away.
He seekes.
Thou art my life, then if I liue tis wonder,
When limmes and life are forc'd to part in sunder.
1.
Who's there?
2.
A friend: who thou?
1.
No enemie, whats he?
3.
A Citizen your neighbour, what fellow's that?
1.
A Botcher, a poore English mechanick.
2.
What shall we do in this calamitie?
1.
Hide what we haue, and flie from th'enemie.
3.
O how neare is hee?
2.
Heele be here to night.
3.
No meane to saue our liues but present flight.
Bunch.
What are these thick skind heauie purs'd gorbellied
churles mad? what do they feare? to be robd I thinke:
O that they would hide their money where I might find it,
that should be the first language I would learne to speake:
though I haue no money, I am as merrie as they, and well
fare nothing once a yeere; For early vp and neuer the neere.
Enter Lodwick.
Lod.
O whither flie ye silly heartlesse shadowes?
What sudden feare so daunts your courages?
Are ye surpriz'd with dread of enemies?
Then arme your selues to guard your selues and yours:
Let not base rumours driue ye from your denne,
As Hares from formes; stay, fight, and die like men.
1.
Noble Duke Lodwick, what auailes our stay,
When all our power cannot defend one part?
Lod.
We shall haue helpe.
2.
From whom?
Lod.
From Count Lauall.
1.
No he and Trosthey are with Mercurie.
Lod.
Yet Mounsieur Rossibroune may come in time.
3.
All is but hazard, we are sure of none.
Exit.
2.
And I an other.
1.
And I if I can.
Exeunt Ambo.
Lod.
Are ye all gone? stayes there not one man?
Good fellow what art thou?
Bunch.
A corrector of extrauagant hose feete.
Lod.
Wilt thou abide?
And fight against th'approaching enemie?
Bunch.
Enuie? what enuie?
Lod.
The periurd Duke of Aniou, Mercurie,
That comes to sack this vnprouided Towne.
Bunch.
Is he neare hand?
Lod.
I, nearer then I wish.
Bunch.
O that I had my pressing Iron out of the fire, and
my cleane shert from my Laundresse, that I might bid this
towne farewel, and blesse it with my heeles toward it: fie, fie,
downe with my stall, vp with my wares, shift for my selfe.
Lod.
So all will leaue me in extremitie.
Enter a Messenger.
Nuntio.
Deare honored Lord, make hast to saue your self.
The armed troupes of trecherous Mercury,
Approach so fast, and in such multitudes,
That some of them are seene within a league,
And not a man of ours in readinesse,
Except it be to runne, none to resist.
Lod.
Then must I runne as fast as they.
Lodwick till now was neuer runne-away.
Exeunt Lodwick, and Messenger.
Bunch.
If euery body runne, its time for me to goe: O
that my customers had their ware, and I money for mending
them, heres sudden warres when we nere thought vpon
it. Well, if I had had grace, I might haue tarried
at Tower wharffe, armed with a white apron, a pot
pye? sixe pence said I: fill here hey in the swanne, by and
by, anan, anan: there might I haue eate my fill, and drunke
my fill, and slept my fill, and all without feare, safe as mouse
in a mill: heere if th'enuy come, will be nothing, but kil, kil,
kill: and I am sure to be in most daunger, because I am an
English man and a straunger, this is the lucke of them that
trauell forrain lands: now one paire of running legges, are
worth two paire of working hands.
Exit.
Enter Duke Mercury with Souldiers, Drumme, and Ensigne.
Mer.
A plague vpon you, was the Pallace watch'd
That he and his haue all escaped thus?
O I could teare my very heart strings out,
I am so stung with this indignitie.
Will no man bring me word that he is taken?
Night wert thou any thing, but what thou art,
A thicke darke shadowe, that art onely seene,
I would not liue, till thou wert banished,
But let him goe, and now shall Aniou shine
More brighter then the burning lampe of heauen:
Where in the height of the celestiall signes,
In all his pompe he sailes along the skies,
Now France shall shake with terror of my name,
Onely my word shall be a Parliament,
Enacting statutes as shall bind the world,
Where maiestie shall plead prerogatiue,
In mightie volumes writing with his hand,
The vncontrolld decrees of soueraigntie:
Lodwick expulsed, and King Francis gone,
Yet once is Aniou King of Fraunce alone.
Enter Messenger.
Messen.
My Lord.
Mer.
Is Lodwick taken? raunsome him to me,
Messen.
I am a Messenger of other newes.
Mer.
O but salute mine eares with that sweete sound,
And in that musick be all accents drownd.
Mes.
My Lord: to Armes, to Armes, my Lord of Aniou,
The power of Spaine hath past the Pyren hills,
And are already entred into France,
Vnder Hernando, the great Duke of Medena:
The Frontiers lie all blazed with rude warre:
The fields are couerd with vnciuill armes
Of sun burnt Moores, and tawnie Affricans
Which they haue brought: they skorn to beare their spoiles
Their neighing Gennets, armed to the field
Do yorke and fling, and beate the sullen ground,
And vncontrolld, come loose abroad in France.
Nauarre is sack'd, and like a mightie flood
The haughtie Spaniard ouerturneth all.
Gather your power, make head against the foe:
The diuell driues, tis full time to goe.
Mer.
The diuell burst those balling chops of thine.
Spaine and the plague, and hell and all together,
If the full tunne of vengeance be abroach,
Fill out and swill vntill you burst againe.
Come dogge, come diuell, he that scapes best.
Let him take all, and split, and rote, and choke
Hooke, swords and caps, if hold will ha't thus doe
Let him liues longst, wipe the reckoning out,
Sound drumme away, before our glory die,
Some shall be lowe, that now do looke full hie.
Enter Yacob van Smelt, Lodwick, Oriana, Dyan, and Bunch.
Yacob.
Well my life kins so ick must be you Wert, dat is
you host; and you mine ghesse, to eat met mie, and slope met
mie, in my huyo: well, here bene van you, vier, (foule as you
twea womans: spreak, wat will you geuen by de dagh? by
de weeke? by de mont? by de yeare? all to mall.
Bunch.
Sauing your tale mine host, what is your name?
Yacob.
Yacob van Smelt.
Bunch.
Smelt? Lord, many of your name are taken in the
Thames, youle not be angry?
Yacob.
Angry? niet niet.
Bunch.
How? nit? nay then I perceiue I shall bee angry
first: zounds twit me with my trade? I am the fag end of a
Tayler; in plaine English a Botcher: and though my countrey
men do call me pricklouse, yet you Flemish Boore shal
not call me nit; ye base Butterbox, ye Smelt, your kinsfolks
dwell in the Thames and are sold like slaues in Cheap-side
by the hundreth, two pence a quarterne.
Yacob.
Gods pestilence, beest thou frantick?
Lod.
Patience my friends, fellow he spake no ill,
My gentle host was casting his account,
To what our weekly charges must amount.
Yacob.
Yaw, yaw, true, true.
Bunch.
True, true? lie, lie: did not you say first you would
mall vs all? and then calld me nit, nit? tis not your big belly,
nor your fat bacon, can cary it away, if ye offer vs the boots:
what though we be driuen from our owne dwelling, theres
moe fitling houses then yours to host in.
Lod.
Well mine host Iacob, though our state be poore,
Yet will we pay you iustly our compound:
For me, my wife, and daughter, by the weeke,
For dyet, lodging, and for laundery,
So long as we shall host within your house,
Fiue Gilders weekly I will answere you.
Yacob.
Dat is for you, your frow, and your skone daughter,
well, whe a sall be tall for dis gack? dis shellam?
Bunch.
I, ye shall find me a tall fellow if ye trie me. But
what is it ye talke of me?
Lod.
He doth demaund who shall defray thy charge?
Bunch.
Neither you nor he, let him take care for a large
winding sheete to wrappe his fatte guts in: haue not I a
trade? Yes good man Smelt, if ye haue any hose to heele,
breeches to mend, or buttons to set on, let mee haue your
worke.
Yacob.
Goots moorkne beest thou a Snyder? snip, snap,
met te sheares.
Bunch.
Speak reuerently of Taylers, or Ile haue ye by the
eares.
Yacob.
Yaw, yaw, tis good honest mans occupacion, good
true mans liuing.
Bunch.
I sir, Ile liue by it, and neither charge this mans
purse, nor run vpon your score, Ile get me a litle hole to put
Yacob.
A knaues head in.
Bunch.
My head in, and fall to worke here, and in stead
of parle buon francoys, learne to bral out butterbox, yaw,
yaw, and yaune for beare like a Iacke daw.
Yacob.
Heare me eance Ick heb a cleyue skuttell, a litle
stall by mine huys dore, sall dat hebben for a skoppe.
Bunch.
Hebben, habben quoth a? what shall I hebben?
Lod.
A place to worke in Yacob offers thee,
Harke hither Bunch.
He takes him aside and whispers.
Yacob.
I Frow, hey, comt here:
He takes Oriana by the hand.
You bene a skone Frow, a soot a lieffe: vp miner zeele, dat
is, by my soule Ick loue you met my heart. And you will
loue mee, smouch mee, and bee my secret vriend, de charle
sall niet knowe, Ick will you gelt geuen, and you man sall
niet betall, niet paid for your logies noe you meat: wat seg
you?
Oriana.
I say mine Host, that you are ill aduis'd,
To tempt the honour of a straungers wife:
Consider if your fortune were as ours,
In forraine place to rest ye for a time,
To breake her vow and to dishonour you?
Yacob.
Swig, swig, peace, Ick sall an aunder time talke
met you.
Yacob whispers with Oriana.
Lod.
No Bunch, by no meanes tell from whence we came,
Nor what enforced vs seeke a refuge here:
And though my want at instant be extreame,
Yet when the heauens shall better my estate,
Thy secrecie will I remunerate.
Bunch.
Why what do ye think of me? a horsleech to suck
ye? or a trencher flie to blowe ye? or a vermine to spoile ye?
or a moath to eate through ye? no, I am Barnabie Bunch, the
Botcher, that nere spent any mans goods but my owne, Ile
labour for my meate, worke hard, fare hard, lie hard, for a liuing,
Ile not charge ye a penney, Ile keep your councel. And
ye shall commaund me to serue you, your wife, and your
daughter in the way of honestie, like honest Barnabie.
Lod.
Gramercies honest friend.
Oriana.
No Iacob no,
Need cannot force, nor flatterie intreat.
Yacob.
Swig dan, nea meare, come sall vs in to eat?
Exeunt Yacob, Bunch, Oriana.
Lod.
Euen when you please mine host: come daughter
Come, be of good comfort, heauen is where it was:
When fortunes storme a while our state hath tost,
A calmer gale may giue what we haue lost.
Dyana.
Assure ye sir, euen as I am your child,
Not discontent, but patience makes me mild,
If inward griefe externall ioy supplant,
It moanes not mine, but your vnwonted want.
Lod.
Thou seest how easily I endure the smart,
Because thy mother and thy selfe beare part:
Come let vs in, on him that knowes vs best
Lets fix our hope, and so in patience rest.
Exeunt.
Her.
It seemes that the Nobilitie of Fraunce
Are all a sleepe, that vnresisted, thus
We diue into the entrailes of their Land:
Is there no haughtie chiualier, no spirit
Heroick, dare so much as once demaund
Wherefore we come? or offer vs the fight?
Why then proceed we as we haue begunne
To take possession, not to conquer here:
What Citie call you this?
Vgo.
Shamount my Lord.
Her.
Mount? whither does it mount? Ile make it lie
As leuell as her other fellowes do,
And though her loftie turrets touch the clouds,
Yet will I teach her like an humble handmaid,
To make a lowly curtsie to the ground:
Shamount shall stoope, Medyna saies the word.
But who are these? Don Vgo question them.
Vgo.
Of whence are you? speak quickly, least my sword
Preuent your tongues by searching of your hearts.
1.
Great Prince of Spaine, we are th'inhabitants
Of this distressed Citie of Shamount.
Her.
Yet more of Mount? shall I be haunted still
With eccho of Shamount? how dare you slaues
Haue any such proud title in your mouthes?
Shall stoupe I say, be that your Cities name,
For I will make it stoupe before I passe.
2.
Thou dread Commaunder of the Spanish Force,
If not for our humilitie and praiers,
Yet for these presents which we bring to thee,
(A Cuppe of gold, and in the same containd,
Fiue thousand Markes) respect our naked walles,
Draw not thy sword against our yeelding soules,
(This harmeles Citie mongst all other ruines)
Stand as a Trophey of thy clemencie.
Her.
Would you corrupt our valour with your coyne?
Or do you thinke the Spaniard is so poore,
A litle Gold can make him sell his honour?
No, were your streets through ston'd with Dyamonds,
And you should digge them vp to bring them hither:
Or were your houses in the stead of Slate,
Couerd with Siluer, and your selues prepard
To teare it off and giue it vs,
Nay were your walles of purest Chrysolyte,
And puld beside their bounds for our owne vse,
Yet would we scorne all this and ten times more,
For we count honour sweetnesse of dominion,
Tis Lordship that we come for, and to rule,
More worth then millions, stoope and kis our feete,
Bring forth your daughters and your fairest wiues
To be our Concubines, waight you your selues
Vpon our trenchers, and like stable groomes,
Rubbe our horse heeles, and then perhaps weele yeeld
That you shall liue, or so, but otherwise,
Looke for no pittie at Medynaes hand:
And for an instance, thus and thus I seale
He kills them.
The couenant of my great comptrolling sprite,
And now amaine giue onset to the towne.
Enter Mercurie and his men.
Mer.
First insolent Medyna, here is one
Will trie how thou canst but end a man,
Before thou lay thy force vnto a wall.
Her.
Now by mine honour welcome to the field,
Liues there a French man then dare trie with vs?
I thought you had bene Pigmeys all till now,
And durst not looke a Spaniard in the face,
How euer hearted that is yet vnknowne.
Mer.
So hearted Spaniard, as we are resolu'd
To plague thee for thy damned crueltie.
Her.
Talke then no longer, shew your Chiualrie.
Alarum, they fight, Mercurie is wounded, and put to flight.
Her.
Was this the worthy champion so resolu'd,
To plague vs as he said? was this the man
Fraunce had pickt out, to take her quarell vp?
Now sure a trustie wight, when hands serue not,
He knowes the way to take him to his heeles:
Yet is it good that we did meete with him
Be it but for this, to keepe our hands in vre,
And breath our pursie bodies, which I feare,
Would haue growne stiffe for want of exercise.
But now no more, enter the Citie gates,
And therein boldly euery one deuise,
How he can Lord it in the French mens eyes.
Exit.
Enter Emanuell, with Leontius.
Ema.
Could I resolue my selfe sufficiently,
He should not stay one houre in my Court,
But I haue noted in her from her birth,
A straunge ennated kind of curtesie,
An affable, inclining lenitie,
With such a virgine meeknesse to regard,
As may abuse, a wise and grounded censure,
In iudging of affection, and of honour.
Leon.
Pardon me gracious Lord, I speake it not
In any sort to wrong your Princely daughter,
Or to impeach your iudgement any wise
In your opinion of the Gentleman,
But as a iust and honest subiect should,
Ema.
Nor as I am a Prince I thinke thou doest,
I haue so good assurance of thy loue,
Which may I trust, induce thee to resolue me,
From what conceit proceeds thy strong surmise.
Leon.
This other day, for hunting of the stagge,
Attending faire Odillia to the Forrest,
When as the hounds had rows'd the trembling deare,
And euery man spurd hard vnto the crie,
Riding along, a goodly Couert side:
The company all stragling here and there,
Onely the Princesse, and young Ferdynand,
Curbing their steeds in with their silken raynes,
Into a Groaue road secretly togither,
Thrice did I see him kisse her snowy hand,
And with three humble Cursies bowd his head,
Downe to the stirrope of Odillia,
Then did I see him whisper in her eare,
When with her Fanne she wonne the wanton wind
To coole his face as they road gently on.
Then came they to a litle perling Brooke,
Whereas they paus'd, as it should seeme to heare
The birds sweete musicke, to the bubling streame.
Then did I see him lift his eyes towards hers,
Taking her gloue which lay vpon her lappe,
A thousand times did reuerence to the same,
And in his Bauldrick wrapt it choisly vp,
When as she pluckt a bloomed Lymon braunch,
With her white hand out of her Coronet,
And with her fingers twind it in his lock
And smild: and bowd her head into his bosome.
And thus with gentle parlance both togither
They paced on vnto the flowry lawne.
Ema.
If this be not surmiz'd which thou report'st,
It should be signe of some affection.
Leon.
Ile not enforce it on your excellence
Em.
Wheres Ferdynando? saw you him of late?
Leon.
Lord Strossy, and your daughter be at chests,
And they saw him, but euen very now.
Em.
Goe call them hither presently to me.
Leon.
I trust you will not vrge me in the matter.
Em.
Go too, I will not.
Exit Leontius.
How now? a villaine that I found by chance,
To court my onely daughter and my heire:
And hauing thus reuiu'd him by my fauours,
Will the vile viper sting me for my loue?
Enter Frederick Ferdinando kneeles.
Em.
Sirrha come hither, didst thou neuer heare
How first I found thee, being but a child:
Hid in the segges fast by a Riuer side,
As it should seeme of purpose to be lost.
Being so yoong, that thou hadst not the sence
To tell thy name, or of what place thou wast?
Fre.
I haue heard your Lordship often so report it.
Em.
Did thy adultrous parents cast thee off
As it should seeme, ashamed of thy birth?
And haue I made a nurserie of my Court
To foster thee, and growne to what thou art,
Enrich thee with my fauours euery where?
That from the loathsome mud from whence thou camest,
Thou art so bold out of thy buzzards nest,
To gaze vpon the sunne of her perfections?
Is there no bewtie that can please your eye,
But the diuine and splendant excellence
Of my beloued deare Odillia?
How darest thou but with trembling and with feare
Looke vp toward the heauen of her hie grace?
And euen astonisht with the admiration,
Let fall the gaudye plumens of thy proud heart?
Dare any wretch so vile and so obscure,
Fre.
Heare me my Lord.
Odillia.
Nay heare me Princely father,
For what you speake to him concernes me most.
Neuer did he attempt to wrong mine honour,
Nor did his tongue ere vtter yet one accent,
But what a virgins eare might safely heare.
I neuer saw him exercise himselfe
In any place where I my selfe was present,
But with such a gracefull modest bashfulnesse,
As well beseemed both his youth and dutie.
I neuer saw him yet presume my presence
But with a lowe subiected reuerence,
A browe as humble as humilitie:
And when I haue enforced him to speake,
In any thing I had employd him in,
His words haue bene in such an humble key,
As silence would haue told a secret in.
But if his seruice to me be suspected,
Attending me to helpe me to my horse,
Or bent my bowe when I haue shot a Deare,
Discourse of Nations, playd at Mawe and Chesse:
Or led me by the arme when I had walk'd.
If this may breed suspition of my loue,
I cannot keepe the tongue of lealousie.
Frede.
When did I euer but approach the place
Where she hath bene, but kneeling to the earth
As if the ground were holy where she troad?
When was I seene to gaze once in her glasse,
For feare the Christall wherein she beheld her,
Should tell my disobedience to her eyes?
When was I seene to smell but to a flower
To which the Princesse had but smelt before
As farre vnworthy that my sence should taste
So rich an odour as had pleased hers?
When was I seene to looke once in her face,
That cast his head downe dazled with his rayes.
I neuer nam'd that name, Odillia:
But with such worship, and such reuerence,
As to an Angell if he should appeare.
Her haue I lou'd for feare, and feard for loue,
For I adore diuine Odillia.
Em.
Frederick, thy humble and submissiue carriage,
Hath satisfied me fully at this time.
And my Odillia, tak't not in ill part,
That too much loue breakes out into suspition,
It is the fault of loue Odillia,
And hath his pardon as it doth offend:
Then come Leontius, you and Ile away,
Go backe Odillia, and attend your play.
Exit.
Fre.
Madam you see, that iealousie attends
Vpon the houres of our succesfull loue,
What is your princely pleasure with my seruice?
I feare suspition but too much espies,
I see that trees had eares, and bushes eyes.
Odil.
Deare Ferdynand, prouide then for our flight,
I regard nothing in respect of thee,
Onely be constant, and Ile goe with thee,
In all the wayes that fortune can direct.
Goe get you hence, I will attend my sport,
Much is to do, and time is very short.
Enter Yacob, and Lodwick, Yacob hath a long boord chalked.
Ya.
Come, floux, betall, gelt Lodwick, gelt, ware bene de
Fraunce Crowne? de Riex daler? de Anglis skelling? ha?
pay pay, betall betall, keck dore Lodwick, see de creete de
chalke: eane, twea, dree, vier guildern for brant weene:
fiftick guildern for rost for de eat zeuen guildern for speck,
case, bouter and bankeate: keck, looke in dye burse
pay.
Lod.
My gentle host haue patience but a while,
I will endeuour to come out of debt,
As speedily as God shall giue me meanes,
Forbearing neither lessons nor acquites
One groat of dutie, onely your good minde
Shall be approu'd for respiting a time.
Yacob.
Respit? rest diuell, godts cruse, my gelt 'ck can
niet forbeare, niet suffer, niet spare mine gelt, a dowsand
diuells, Ick mought de Brewer, de Baker, de Butcher
betall, so heb ye niet gelt, giue me a pawne, eane gage:
oh haere dat his Frow mought met my blieuen for de
debt.
Lod.
Yacob, alas thou seest what wealth I haue,
Apparell, Iewels, Plate, and Gold I lacke,
Fortune hath wrackt me on extremitie,
For all my riches are within thy house.
My vertuous wife and daughter are my treasure,
Which aboue all worlds wealth beside I measure.
Yacob.
Godts Sacrament harma charle begger, a wench,
loupe dye selue, ye sall niet slape eane nought mare in
mine huys, geue me dy Frow and dye Meskyn, wyeffe and
doughter to pledge for my gelt, for Ick weat well, dow wilt
redeeme and raunsome dem twea: loupe doo shellam and
nempt de gelt and coine, here and buy out dy wife and
kinde, dy skone daughter.
Lod.
Alas what comfort is there left for me
If those deare Iewels be empaund to thee?
My wife and daughter? Iacob chaunge thy mind,
Diuide vs not, ô be not so vnkind.
Yacob.
Godts hanny kin, vnkind? But Boore geue
mee gelt or pawne, or Ick sall dee in de vanga port staruen.
Lod.
No remedie? well, call my wife and daughter,
Ile lesue them, else, thou shalt imprison me.
Yacob.
Ha, godks tostie mought Icke de skone Frow
his wieff here hold, Ick begare niet cost, niet ziluer niet
gold.
Enter Oriana, Dyana, and Bunch.
Dore she comen, dore, dore, all so clare, wyet and zoole, as
de zunne, wellicome zoota lieff, hey couragee mine wan,
alls ge done.
Lodwick lookes sadly, Yacob merrily.
Oriana.
What Planets opposition haue we heare,
That makes a storme in sunshine, heate in frost?
The heauens are clouded, drossie earth is cleare,
My husband frownes, but frolicke is mine host,
O fire and Ice, O feare and doubt togither,
What enuious starre directs my comming hither?
Lod.
No heauier starre nor more maleuolent
Needs Lodwick, then this Flemish excrement.
Deare Oriana, thou dost know our state
Cast downe, spurnd, skornd by fortune, and by fate,
Yet neuer griefe so nearely galls my hart,
As when I thinke that thou and I must part.
Or.
Why must we part?
Lod.
Aske Iacob, he can tell.
Ya.
Well meyster, well yffrow, Ick mought de gelt heb,
ye man hebt niet to betall, he sall niet langer in my huys
blieuen, keck see dore de skore Ick will him trust nea mare
Ick mought eane gage, eane pawnd heb dat must you selua
bene, and you skone daughter by godth moorky he fall to
prison to de vanga port els.
Lod.
Well, then I must perswade her patience,
To be thy pawne, thy prisoner in mine absence.
Bunch.
What? how pawne? how prisoner? for what? for
the skore? a pox on that chalke, its an easier matter to chalk
a pound, then to get a penney to pay it: you shall not goe,
nor she shall not lie to gage for a litle money: let me see
Lodwick whispers with Oriana and Dyana.
Ya.
Yaw eleck eane a Guilder.
Bunch.
Fiftie, and foure, and seuen, is fiue and fortie,
masse I haue but twentie Stiuers toward it, that all I haue
sau'd since I came here to Newkerk. This Flaunders is too
thriftie a countrey, for here the women will heele their husbands
hose themselues: faith if your skore had bene but a
score of Stiuers, I meane I would haue paid it, cleard the
chalke cleane.
Yacob.
Swegen and drinkin Bunch, de skone Frow and se
daughter sall be mien pawne, mien gage, me de Frow, dow
de Meskyn.
Bunch.
Ha, say you so? no Butterbox, Ile set a spoake in
your cart: heare ye? this soule fat Smelt, tells me, that hee
has smelt out a smocke commoditie for a pawne, that is to
haue your wife and daughter to gage: if ye be wise, make
your bargaine that hee doo not vse your pawne, for
though it will not be much the worse for the wearing, yet it
is pittie it should bee slubbered by such a cullien as Yacob
Smelt.
Lod.
Prithee be quiet, Yacob I will leaue
My dearest, most vnualued Iewels here:
Entreate them well as thou wilt answere me
At my returne, euen with thy dearest bloud,
If they miscarrie in thy custodie.
Friend Bunch farewell, be kind vnto these twaine,
And if I liue Ile recompence thy paine.
Bunch.
Faith as kind as Cockburne, Ile breake my heart
to do them good. But whither will you goe?
Lod.
I know not yet, where fortune shall direct,
Leaue vs a while to take a sad farewell:
That done, I part, and they shall stay with you.
Yacob.
Wel, wel, hah mien skone friester, mien lieff, dow
sall met mie blieuen, and di mannykin a weigh lope, heigh
loustick.
Gep, wihi, see how the slouenly Smelt leapes: I
thinke you could be content to be rid of this beere flye, this
bacon fac'd Butterbox a while.
Lod.
Indeed I could.
Bunch.
Indeed and you shall, Yacob I haue newes for ye,
passing profitable pleasureable newes: theres a tunne of
English stark beere, new come to Newkerk this day, at two
Stiuers a stope, come Ile giue thee a stope or two.
Yacob.
Gramercies Bunch, braue Bunch, mien lieuer brooer,
Anglis beere? oh heare tosti godts towsand a weigh gane?
Bunch.
Goe, well parting in a morning is past remedie
at midnight, God bee with ye sir, I could weepe, but my
teares will not pleasure ye, if I see ye no more till I see ye agen,
god ha ye in his kitchen. As for you two I shall see you
lest in pledge till I haue drunke to you, and you pledg'd me
twentie times: once more adiew.
Exeunt Yacob and Bunch.
Lod.
Ah beastly brutall, baser then the dung,
That hast no touch nor feeling of my want,
That such a drunken greasie slaue discards:
Ah Oriana, neuer till this houre
Did I confesse my want or miserie,
For but of thee, and my poore sweete Dyana,
I neuer made account that ought was mine,
But poorer now then pouertie it selfe,
Of all I had you onely were the best,
Now must I too, forgoe you with the rest.
Ori.
Ah must we part? why whither wilt thou goe?
Ah my deare Lord, yet whil'st we liu'd togither,
With what content haue we endur'd our woe?
Now like a sea tost Nauie in a storme,
Must we be seuer'd vnto diuers shores?
O that the poorest beggers that do breath
Should yet haue that which is deni'd to vs,
But to haue partners in their miserie.
Good father since our fortune is to beg,
Let me become the beggar for you both:
What shall become of me, if you do leaue me?
Many will giue me bread if I do aske,
But there is none that can giue me a father.
Lod.
Ah my poore wench, if I should stay with you,
This gripple miser, this vnciuill wretch,
Will for this litle that I am indebted,
Vnchristianly imprison you and me,
Where we shall surely perish then for want.
But I will crosse the narrow seas for England
To London: where ere long I make no doubt,
To get so much, as shall redeeme you hence,
And shall redeeme this poore estate of ours,
Till fairer fortune hap to shew her head.
Oria.
Farewell, farewell: now all my ioy doth goe,
Goe you alone, while we alone with woe.
Dya.
Farewell deare father.
Lod.
My sweete gerle adiew,
He blesse vs all, that keepes both me and you.
Exit Lodwick.
Enter Yacob and Bunch to Oriana and Dyana.
Ya.
Com't here Bunch, dow beest eane right shapt charle:
O de stark Anglis beere; whore zijne, whoare zijne dieffrow
and de skone daughter? keck dore Bunch, nempt de
meskyn, Ick fall de moore hebben: come Oriana, ou beene
miene gage vor gelt, mijen liuer loue, mijen zooterkyn.
Bunch.
Your sooterkyn? your drunken skin, mistresse
how do ye? is your husband gone? why be of good cheare,
heres a bunch of botchers left to comfort ye, take all in my
purse, spend all that I get, and command my worke to helpe
ye out of debt.
Ori.
Thankes gentle friend, but how shall I requite it?
Bunch.
Tush, talk not of quittance, Ile liue by a pittance,
vnline my purse, and vse my person, and for my limmes take
the best in the bunch.
Godts sacremente Bunch, sweg, sweg, come yffrow dye
man is away gane, lat ource be frolicke, lustick, heigh speell
zing and daunce. Ick loue mijne Lyuerkin heye, Ick basse mijne
zoota lieffe ho: ick mot niet slape, niet drenk zane stopemedoont
mijne Iolickaa froe, hey lustick.
Dya.
Wilt please ye mother, leaue this barbarous beast,
And take you to your chamber?
Oria.
I my child.
Be going out.
Bunch.
Ile tell thee Smelt, thou shouldst be a Codshead
thou art so rude: I am of the house of the Bunches, a bunch
of keyes will gingle, a bunch of lathes will ring, a bunch of
rootes are windie meate, and a bunch of garlick will make
ye sweate, yet I keepe no stirre.
Ya.
Shellamick be gare niet dyffroes bene gan.
Bunch.
Then let vs followe, wee shall ouertake them
anon.
Enter Lodwick fainting.
Lod,
Imperious fortune when thou dost begin
To shew thine anger, how implacable
And how remorcelesse are thy bitter checks?
To losse of honour, daunger of my life:
To the endaungering of my life, thou addest
A separation twixt my wife and me.
To that, base pouertie: to that, contempt:
And now thou tak'st from me my strength of limmes,
Infeebling me for lack of sustenance.
All this thou giu'st me of thine owne accord,
One thing let me intreat thee to restore,
Which with my teares I beg, though thou would'st send
Death, to fill vp the measure of thy spight:
That it may be sufficient thou hast forc't
My heart to sigh, my hands to beate my breast,
My feete to trauell, and my eyes to weepe,
Inioyne not now my tongue to aske an almes,
But thou art deafe, and I must either begge
And loe in happie time here commeth one.
Enter Sir Nicholas reading very earnestly on a Letter.
Where I may make a tryall of my skill,
A man it seemes belonging to the Church,
I haue some knowledge in the Latine tongue,
Perhaps for that heele sooner pittie me.
Sifte gressus quæso reuerende Pater.
Et occulos flecte tuos in miserum,
Respice spretum respice precor egenum.
Sir Ni.
Whats this?
Lod.
Oh miserere paupertatis meæ,
Respice spretum respice precor egenum.
Sir Ni.
It seemes that thou art needie, and wouldst beg
An almes of me, is that thy meaning, speake?
Lod.
Ita domine ita, nam vehementer.
Sir Ni.
Tut a figges end, vehementer quotha?
Theres a word indeed to begge withall:
It is inough to bring thee to the stocks.
This is no Vniuersitie, nor Schoole,
But a poore Village: and I promise thee,
I neuer could abide this Romish tongue.
Tis harsh, tis harsh, and we, I tell thee true,
Do eate and drinke in our plaine mother phrase:
If thou doest want, and wouldst haue part with vs,
Then do as we do, like an honest man,
Shew thy true meaning in familiar termes.
Lod.
I am good sir, if please you, much distrest,
Hauing nor money, friends, nor meate to eate:
If it may stand with your humanitie
To giue me some reliefe, Ile pray for you,
And whilst I liue be thankfull for the same.
S. Ni.
Why so, now I vnderstand thy meaning,
Is not this better farre then respice
As are intollerable in a Common-wealth?
Coniurers do vse them, and thou know'st
That they are held flat Fellons by the law.
Be sure thou mightst haue beg'd till thou were hoarse,
And talkt vntill thy tougue had had the crampe,
Before thou wouldst haue bene regarded once.
It is not good to be phantasticall,
Or scrupulous in such a case as this.
But to the purpose, thou art poore thou say'st?
Lod.
Exceeding poore, poorer then Irus,
He did enioy the quiet of the minde,
Although his body were expos'd to want:
But I in body and in minde am vext.
Sir Ni.
I feare by keeping riotous company
Or some such misdemeanour?
Lod.
Then I wish,
That God may turn your hart from pittying me.
Sir Ni.
Well, thou sayst well, thou hast an honest face,
And art beside, a pretie handsome fellowe:
Me thinkes thou couldst not want a seruice long,
If thou wouldst be contented to take paines.
Lod.
Oh sir, the world is grown so ful of doubts,
Or rather so confounded with selfe-loue,
As if a poore man beg, they straight cōdemne him,
And say, he is an idle vagabound:
Or if he aske a seruice, or to worke,
They straightway are suspicious of his truth:
So that howeuer, they will find excuse,
That he shall still continue miserable.
And tis as common as tis true withall,
The weakest euer goe vnto the wall.
Sir Ni.
By my faith thou sayst true, the more is the pittie.
Lod.
But if you will vouchsafe, because my state
Is very bare, and I am here vnknowne,
To be a meanes to helpe me to some place,
Shall proue my pouertie no counterfeit.
Sir Ni.
Faith I must tell thee, I haue litle coine,
My Benefice doth bring me in no more
But what will hold bare buckle & thōg together,
And now and then to play a game at bowles:
Or drinke a pot of Ale amongst good fellowes.
And for my Parishioners, they are husbandmen,
Nor do I know of any lacks a seruant.
But this, the Sexton of our Church is dead,
And we do lacke an honest painfull man,
Can make a graue, and keepe our Clock in frame,
And now and then to toule a passing bell:
If thou art willing so to be emploid,
I can befriend thee.
Lod.
Oh withall my heart,
And thinke me treble happie by the office.
Sir Ni.
Thy wages is not great, not much aboue
Two Crownes a quarter, but thy vailes wil helpe,
As first the making of a graue's a groate,
Then ringing of the bell at euery buriall,
Two pence a knell: which likewise is a groate.
And now and then the maisters of our Parish,
(As good man Flaile, & Bartholmew Pitchforke)
Will bid thee home to dine and sup with them.
Beside, thou hast a house to dwell in rent-free:
And for the liking that I haue in thee,
Thou shalt be somewhat better too for mee:
The grasing of a pigge within the Churchyard,
Or when I gather vp my Tithes, an egge,
A good hogges pudding, or a peece of souse:
What man tis? good fare in a countrey house,
Come follow me, Ile see thee plac't forthwith.
Lod.
I thanke you sir, when all things run awry,
True labour must not be thought slauery.
Exeunt.
Fre.
If you be able to endure the way
Till we haue passed Brabant, we will on:
But Madam, if you hardly brooke your trauell,
Wee'll take the right hand way into the Forrest,
Where we will shrowd vs secretly till night.
Odillia.
Let vs not stay neare to my fathers Court,
Not for a world I would not hazard thee,
No world could saue if taken thou shouldst bee,
Me thinkes tis long before the sunne arise.
Fre.
A it is long Odillia of thine eyes,
Who slumbring still, imagines it is night,
And that the shining is his sisters light.
Odil.
No, tis the Moone, sweete Ferdynand I see,
Keepes backe her brother still to looke on thee.
Fre.
I maruell not poore light if she decline,
When my Odillia doth so early shine.
Odil.
Come, come, sweete loue, O I am full of feare,
Bee I the Moone, thine arme must be my spheare.
Fre.
O were I heauen, thou euer should'st shine there.
Exeunt.
Enter Emanuell and Shamont.
Ema.
O miserie, why didst thou baite my fall
With these descending shadowes of my good?
Sha.
My Lord, nere stand vpon these vaine exclaimes,
But by pursute, seeke to redresse your wrongs,
Tis speedy expedition must recouer,
What light beleefe, and ouersight hath lost.
Ema.
Horses I say, let horses be sent forth,
No Christian Prince that treads on Europes mold,
I thinke that will so farre engage his honour,
As entertaine this damned fugitiue.
Horses I say, spurre, spurre, through euery coast,
Put on the wings of speedy expedition,
In the pursuite of my Odillia:
And fill each Prouince with the ceaslesse brute,
Ring out this famous wrong in your pursuite.
Sha.
Come, come, my Lord, incessant speed must post,
Words cannot get what you haue vainely lost.
Enter Yacob, Oriana, and Dyana.
Ya.
Oh here godt, mijne lifekin, whare will ye from mee ganne?
Ori.
Farewell mine host, we are for England bound,
Out of your debt, for you are satisfied.
Ya.
Yaw, yaw, ye heb well betalld.
Ori.
So leaue I you to seeke my husband out,
Whom your vnciuill vsage forced hence,
Your imperfections (Yacob) are extreame,
Excesse in diet, kindled fire of lust,
The smoake whereof vnkindly chast away
My louing husband, whom I must pursue.
We owe ye nothing, not so much as loue,
Since for your lust you haue abusde vs all,
We haue not falne, thogh want did wrastle hard:
Our fingers ends our honours haue sustaind,
Flaunders farewell, yrksome without my Lord,
And Newkerke for his sake be thou abhord.
Ya.
Hore ye well yffrow? ken ye whare to find you man?
Ori.
I trust at London.
Dya.
Mother, please you goe?
The ayre's infected where this glutton breathes,
That makes vs Pilgrimes without deuotion.
Amend thy maners, or let all refuse
To host with thee, that wouldst thy guesse abuse.
Exit Orian, and Dyana: manet Yacob.
Ya.
Adiew skone meskyn, adiew zoot frow,
Ick will mijne selue strauen vp de galligo bobbintow,
Ick sall be dode slone met dis meager loue.
Enter Bunch.
Sweg Yacob sweg, here comt Bunch dat boue.
Now mine Hoste rob pot, emptie kan, Beere sucker,
Gudgen, Smelt I should say, haue the women paide
ye?
Yacob.
Yaw, yaw, all to mall.
Bunch.
All to mall, drunken Cannyball, and where be
they I pray ye?
Ya.
A Bunch, Bunch, deye bene aweigh lop't,
Deye will niet langer met mije blieuen.
Bunch.
Blieuen ye blockhead? no, thou art such a drunken
Goate, that the diuel will not dwell with thee, except
he be in thy coate.
Ya.
Ick weat not, for England, for Loundres they segt.
Bun.
How? for England? for London?
O Saint Katherns Docke,
And leaue me behind them?
Yacob doest thou not mocke?
Ya.
Niet for ware.
Bunch.
For Ware drunkard? thou saidst for London euen now.
Ya.
Yaw for Loundres, tis ware, tis true.
Bun.
Then gentle Swilboll, Ile bid Flaunders adieu.
O pittilesse parcelles of women's flesh, that knew London is
my Country, and for all my good will would not call me to
their Company: Well, Bunch will not banne them, nor yet
follow them, nor yet tarry heere: but take vp my tooles, my
pressing Iron & Sheeres, my Needle & Thimble, and backe
againe for Fraunce, to learne more wee, and wee daw, and so
farewell Yacob with your great maw.
When you meet with the Cat, for my sake whip her.
Ya.
Ha Bunch, mijen hart is gebroke, ick mought niet lang leuen,
Come met mey rat parting, ick sall detwea stopes van Bere geuen.
Exeunt.
Enter Ferd. and Odillia.
Ferdi.
Thus farre (sweet Lady) safely are we scap't,
Though euery way pursuite do follow vs.
Be cheerfull then Odillia, Loue is guide
Who sweares that Fortune shall vs not diuide.
Odillia.
Deare Ferdinand I neither feare nor doubt,
Perrill is but a Bugbeare for a childe,
My heart is firme, and fortified with loue,
Witnesse this desperate tender of mine honour
Into thy hands, which thou hast yet preseru'd.
Fer.
And will preserue it whilst I draw this breath,
And bring it sacred to our nuptiall bed.
Odil.
Then Ferdinand belike ye meane to wed?
Fer.
Meane not you so?
Odil.
Yes, but with whom?
Fer.
Madame I trust with mee.
Odil.
Well maist thou trust, Ile marry none but thee.
I know thy bringing vp, though not thy birth,
Thou art deriu'd from Adam, form'd of earth:
From that first Parent all descended are,
Then who begat or bare thee that's not my care.
Thou stolst my heart, I stole with thee thus farre,
Loue wrought our ioy, lack shall not make vs iarre.
Fer.
O happie accents of a heauenly tongue.
Odil.
Lets iourney on, we tarry here too long.
Enter Bunch.
Alas who is this?
Bunch.
Faith one that will do ye no wrong.
Fer.
Peazant thou canst not.
Bun.
No sir ye are deceiu'd, I am no Peazant, I am Bunch
the Botcher: Peazants be plowmen, I am an Artificiall.
Odil.
Simple and pleasant this poore fellow seemes,
Question him further Ferdinand.
Fer.
I will: My friend where are wee?
Bunch.
Cannot you tell?
Ferdi.
No.
Then ye ha no wit, are not we heare I pray you?
Fer.
We are here indeed, but say what countrey's this?
Bunch.
Nay ye ask'd me not that before,
Nor I cannot tell ye it now.
Odil.
Whither goe you my friend?
Bunch.
Tis true indeed your friend, and Barnabie Bunch,
I am going to Fraunce.
Fer.
And can ye speake French?
Bunch.
I sir I would be sorie else.
Enter Lodwick like a Sexton.
Fer.
D'ou veni vou?
Bunch.
I neuer learnd so farre, I cannot tell ye that, I am
but a straunger in the country: here comes one perchance
can tell ye.
Fer.
I pray you sir what territorie's this?
Lod.
Part of the base countrey of Fraunce it is,
The Village name is Ards in Picardy.
Fer.
What entertainment can the town afford
To trauellers?
Lod.
Too meane for such as you.
Fer.
Inhabit you this Village?
Ld.
I forsoothe.
Why gazest thou vpon me so my friend?
Bunch.
By Iacobs staffe and Iumballs fiddle,
Because Ile spose ye with a Riddle.
Two hees, two shees, by night fled tuch,
And light vpon a hannykin Dutch.
Yacob builded a new kerke.
And with his chaulk writ such a quirke,
That wife and child were left alone,
The skore is paid, and they are gone.
Lod.
Let this alone friend till an other time,
My skill is small in Riddles or in Rime,
Be silent Bunch, till we be rid of these.
Close aside to Bunch.
Fer.
You seeme a man belonging to the Church,
In plainest termes, we would be married,
Accomplish our desire for recompence.
Lod.
I blush not at my calling Gentleman,
The Sextens place of Ards I now professe,
If that faire damsell do consent with you,
Ile call the Viccar to conioyne ye straight.
Odil.
Call him good friend, for my consent is past.
Bun.
Nay but call him quickly, for ye see shees in hast.
Lod.
Maister, Sir Nicholas, heer's a commoditie,
A marriage that must quickly be dispatch'd.
Enter Sir Nicholas.
Nicho.
Gramercy Sexten, this was featly watch'd.
Welcome fresh Gallants to the Towne of Ards.
A prettie couple, youthfull as the spring, sweete as is May
morning, doo you desire to be knit togither?
Ferd.
In holy marriage (Sir) would we be ioynd.
Nich.
In holy wedlocke Gentles, so I meane,
Ye are in the state of grace, Twinnes in affection,
Turtles in true loue, I know ye haue no Lycense,
And tis no matter; holie matrimony shall passe my libertie
Without examining: youl pay mee?
Ferd.
I.
Nich.
Come, Ile glue ye togither by and by,
To the lawfull bed, to the lawfull bed:
Fie on this Fornication, this lasciuious lust:
And yet the flesh prickes my holy selfe now and then:
Come follow mee, Ile call some more witnesse,
And clap it vp presently.
Ex. Ferdinand, Odillia, and Nicholas. Manent Lod. and Bunch, who haue whispered.
Lod.
But are my wife and daughter gone indeed
Bunch.
By my sheeres, (and thats a shauing oath)
They are gone for London, they haue paide Yacob:
But they shall loose their labour,
Because you are not in England.
Lod
But I will send, or I will soone be there,
I must not liue diuided from my ioy.
Bunch.
And yet I thinke you liue well
By this Science of Sextenship:
Lord, do not you pray that the pippe may catch the people,
That you may caine many groats for making graues?
Your Church wardens finde bell-ropes,
And you hands to shake them
Lod.
Th'art a mad fellow; but how knewst thou mee,
In this disguise?
Bunch.
Tut well ynough; But harke the Viccar calls.
Lod.
Come Bunch, weell finde more time to talke annon:
Exeunt.
Enter Hernandos Don Hugo and Mercury disguisde, in priuate conference with Hernando, with Souldiours.
Her.
I like thy words, and though I recke not much
The death of any priuate man in France,
Because in multitudes consists our glory:
Yet to make knowne how we do cherish such
As will in any sort reuolt to vs,
Kill Epernoune as thou hast vndertane,
And thy reward shall be a Tunne of gold.
Mer.
Hernando I will do it, not so much
For mony, as for zeale I beare to Spaine,
Though I confesse the principall reason
That vrgeth me being a French man borne,
So to forget the loue my Country claimes,
The wrongs that Epernoune hath done to mee,
And in that point I hold it no disgrace
To malice him, that first dishonour'd mee.
Her.
Why true, thy reason is substantiall.
For say a Father do forget to shewe
The loue by nature he doth owe his sonne,
In my opinion tis no sinne at all,
If such a sonne cast off the awfull dutie
Which to his Father otherwise were due.
In all things iust proportion must be kept.
If the king care not for the Common-wealth,
Why should the Common-wealth respect the king?
But to the purpose: how wilt thou contriue
The manner of his death?
Mer.
Why as I told your grace
In this daies parley twixt the French and you,
Whilst you are busie, ile insert my selfe
Amongst the souldiers of that aged Earle,
And gathering neere his person, suddenly
Thus send my poyniard to his hatefull brest.
Stay his arme.
Hugo.
What didst thou meane to wound our Generall?
Her.
Silence Don Ugo, no such matter man,
He is a villaine, and weele vse him so.
Mer.
I am indifferent, had I spilt his bloud,
It was my comming: but preuented thus:
Now Epernoune shall be the marke I aime at;
For one I vow, though to haue slaine them both
Had bene exceeding good: how now my Lord?
Misconster not, I meant your grace no hurt,
Though mine inkindled fury when I thought
Of Epernoune, made me draw forth my ponyard,
It was to shewe how resolute I am.
Her.
I know it was, sound we parley then,
Where conference was appointed to be had:
And as they march, fall thou in ring with them.
Enter Epernoune carried in his Chaire, and souldiers marching.
Now Cripple what your legges refuse to doo,
I know your hands will presently performe.
I meane, deliuer me the Crowne of France.
Eper.
Raise me a litle, fellowes in my chaire,
Hernando, what saidst thou? deliuer thee
The Crowne of France? why stragling Spaniard
What makes thee ouerweene thy valour so?
Thinkes thou because I seeme a witherd tree
That I am saplesse quite? no Duke, there liues
Within this riueld flint some sparkes of fire,
Which if thou touch, will flie into thy face.
Nor do not thou contemne me for mine age,
This eye is not so dimme, but I perceiue
The markes of arrogance vpon thy browe:
I, and for frowne, I can returne thee frowne.
What glory not so much vpon thy strength,
The day hath bene this body which thou seest
Now falling to the earth, but for these proppes
Hath made as tall a souldier as your selfe
Totter within his saddle: and this hand
Now shaking with the palsie, caske the beuer
Of my proud Foe, vntill he did forget
What ground he stood vpon: go too, go too,
The Crowne of France deliuerd to thy hand?
Good King, how is thy dignitie blasphemde?
But do thy worst, I am his Substitute,
And though I cannot strike, yet with a becke
Can I raise vp more fists about thine eares
Than thou hast haires vpon thy tawny scalpe.
Am I reuilde and bafled to my face,
And by a Dotard? one but for his tongue,
In whom there is no difference twixt himselfe,
A meere Anothomie, a Iack of lent,
And the pale Image of a bloudlesse ghoast?
Yet doth he looke as big as Hercules,
And would be thought to haue a voice like thunder.
Well Epernoune, there is a priuiledge
That babes may speake their pleasure without check,
Else quickly should my sword breake off this parlie,
And with a fillip send thee to thy graue.
Eper.
Callest a me backe? it neuer shall be said,
But Epernoune will shew himselfe a man,
And whil'st the breath is in his nosthrills, proue
A reall substance, and maintaine the right
Of Lewis of Fraunce, euen by the dint of sword:
Lend me your hands, Ile chalenge him the fight.
Twit me with babe? lend me your hands I say.
1. Sol.
Ah good my Lord presume not, you are weake.
Eper.
Weake knaue? thou liest.
Her.
Get him a standing stoole,
And then perhaps the child will learne to goe.
Eper.
Yet child againe? alack it will not be,
My heart is good inough, but tirant age
Benummes those instruments with which my heart
Should execute the office of a Knight.
Medyna thou mayest thanke the rigorous hands
Of strength-decaying age: these legges of mine
Had they not proued rebels to my minde,
Ere this I would haue taught thee to vsurpe
Vpon our confines; but what they omit,
Here are both armes and legges to see performd.
1.
Sirrha stand back, know'st thou what manners is?
To presse so neare the person of our Generall?
Mer.
I am a souldier, wherefore may I not?
Shall euery common souldier at a time
When serious matters are determind on,
Betwixt both Armies: impudently thrust
Into the secrets of his Prince? stand backe.
2.
Lay hands vpon the villain, see within his fist,
A naked poyniard.
Eper.
How now countreymen,
What vnexpected mutinie is that?
Her.
A plague vpon't, Don Vgo hees discouerd.
1.
Some treason as it seemes my noble Lord,
This base companion since you first began
To sit in parlie: hath at sundry times
Saucily presumde to vndermine your talke,
And being reprehended for the same,
We found this dagger hid within his sleeue.
Eper.
Doubtlesse he meant to murder me,
Now God be thanked I haue scapt his hands.
Her.
List Epernoune, he is a man of mine,
Touch not a haire of him, least for that haire
I send a hundred thousand of your soules
To dwell in darknesse.
Eper.
How? a man of thine?
Vnlesse I be deceiu'd I know that face,
It is the Traitor Mercury, disguisde.
Her.
Mercury my foe? had I but known so much
I would haue made him sure inough ere this,
But Epernoune, marke what I say to thee,
If thou wilt redeliuer to my hands
That iugling Duke, as I am Gentleman
And true to Spaine, I will depart your land.
Eper.
Deliuer him? not for the wealth of Spaine.
Not for the treasure you do yearely bagge
From both the Indies: but Meayna say,
What reason mou'd thee terme the Duke thy man?
As though sometime he had bene in thy hand?
Her.
Ile tell thee Epernoune, as I am Knight,
Not sweruing from the truth in any point,
And keeping faith accordingly reward
His traiterous purpose, which is all I craue.
This morning he was brought vnto my Tent,
Where being admitted, openly he shewd
How he had bene disgrac't and wrongd by thee,
For which he promisde, if I would consent
In this dayes parlie, he would murder thee.
I seeing his resolution, was perswaded:
And promising, I needs must say, reward,
Though I do know when he had done the deed,
How I was minded to haue dealth with him,
He thrust himselfe amongst thy followers,
And what the perill is you see your selues,
But all this while I knew not who he was,
More then a priuate discontented person,
For if I had, the wretch had neuer liued
To be an ey-sore to his countreymen.
1.
Oh bloudy practise, souldiers ioyne with me,
And we will teare him peece-meale with our hands.
All the rest.
Agreed: let him not liue a minute longer.
Eper.
Pacifie your selues, not one of you
On paine of our displeasure, once offer
To touch a limbe of him: Ingratefull Duke,
Wherein hath Epernoune deseru'd thy hate,
That thou shouldst basely seek to murder him?
But wherefore aske I that? when tis well knowne,
Thou didst as wrongfully pursue the life
Of noble Lodwick, that true Gentleman,
That very mappe of honourable cariage.
Amend, amend, be sory for thy fault,
That though thy body perish by the law,
Mer.
Tell not me Epernoune of heauen nor hell,
I am a Peere, and Regent of this Realme,
And thus you ought not to entreat a Prince.
All Soul.
Thou Regent of the Realme? speake that againe,
And we will slit thy weasand with our swords.
Eper.
Souldiers forbeare.
Her.
Nay Epernoune shew iustice,
Vpon that caitiffe, that periured slaue,
That coward Duke, or here I do protest,
For euer I will speake in thy dispraise,
Reporting to the world thou art no Knight,
Nor worthy of the name of Epernoune.
Eper.
My Lord, I may not take vpon my selfe,
To be his iudge, he is a Peere of Fraunce,
And must haue open triall by his Peeres,
But when the King my maister doth returne,
As shortly we are told he meanes to doo,
At his discretion be his punishment.
Meane space Medyna I can do no mote,
But see him safely kept in Iron bands.
Her.
Now that as thou art Knight, and for this day
I do proclaime a sollemne truce with thee,
And not a sword of ours shall hurt the French.
Eper.
As I am Knight, and leadge-man to the King,
He shall be kept in fetters till he come.
Her.
It is inough: now backe vnto our Tents.
Eper.
And we vnto the Citie whence we came,
And for our safetie, praise Iehouas name.
Exeunt.
Oriana.
How shall we gentle Sir requite the grace
Which in so great necessitie we finde
At your kind hands? but with our daily praiers,
Implore the heauens for your prosperitie?
Dia.
Which we will neuer cease to do, so long
As life remaines in our distressed bodies.
Uil.
These words are needlesse, what I do to you,
The dutie of a Christian bindes me too.
Remember then the promise you haue made,
That if your husband liue not, whom your selues
Do verily imagine to be dead,
That then you are my wife.
Oria.
That promise I will keepe
Vnfeignedly, with hartie thankes to heauen,
That if my husband do not breathe this life,
My miserie yet sorts me at the last
A second choise, so louing and so kind.
Dia.
And I right willingly shall call him Father,
That in such vertuous sort respects our need,
Without impeachment of our honest fame,
Debarring wicked lust to blot the same.
Vil.
When I do otherwise, then as beseemes
The reputation both of your selues and me,
Conuert your loue to me, to deadly hate,
And may all tongues condemne me with reproofe.
Come in then, take possession of your owne,
My lands, my house, my goods and all is yours,
Only my sisters portion, which I haue,
Vpon our troth-plight vow of marriage,
(If so your husband liue not,) set apart
And ordred in a readinesse for her.
Come louely mother, and thy vertuous childe,
When angry stormes are past, the heauens do smile.
Exeunt.
Enter Ferdinand, Odillia, and Lodowicke.
Odil.
Thus Ferdinand I see that we must part.
Our needie state enforceth it sweete heart.
Odil.
Will you to Fraunce?
Ferd.
To Fraunce.
Odil.
And to the warre?
Ferd.
To my aduancement, war must be the meane,
I cannot digge, I haue no handy-craft:
Our coyne is spent, and yet I cannot craue,
And thought of want, your want doth wound my soule,
When I consider what you are.
Odil.
O peace.
What am I but the wife of Ferdinand,
By loue and faith vnto thy fortunes bound?
O let me follow thee to those French warres
Ferd.
O prize your honour and my credit more,
Were it conuenient, we would not diuide:
But as it is. I must goe, you must bide.
Odil.
So sayes discretion, but true loue repines,
That want should seuer those whom he combines,
But pardon sweete, my speech is spent in vaine,
You must depart, when will ye come againe?
Ferd.
Soone, if successe do answere my desire.
Odil.
Youle write to mee?
Ferd.
As oft as I can send.
Odil.
Youle leaue me heere?
Ferd.
With this assured friend,
Whose kindnesse in abundance we haue found.
Lod.
A lasse good sir, my meanes are weake ye know,
In sooth I am no richer then I show:
Were wishes wealth, your want should be supplide,
And haue no power your persons to diuide.
For I protest, in all my life before,
I nere saw two whom I affected more.
But this addes waight to mourners leaden griefe,
Words may bemoane, but cannot giue reliefe.
For part you must, extremitie to shunne,
In warres is wealth and honour to be wonne.
Odil.
And fame, and death, and then am I vndonne.
Lod.
Why death dwells here, you see my daily trade,
Your spowse with wealth and worship may returne,
And bring you ioy, that at his parting mourne.
Hope so, and hinder not his good intent,
That for his honour, and your welfare's meant.
O that my cottage where ye must remaine,
Were (for your sake) the glorioust house in Spaine:
But as it is, your owne it is, and I
Your poore poore host will tend you carefully.
But I am tedious in perswasion,
And you foreslow the present times occasion.
Odil.
O do not mount him on the wings of hast
That goes too soone.
Ferd.
Dearest, mine houre is past,
You gaue me leaue to goe, reuoke it not,
By lingring here theres no good fortune got.
Odil.
Youle weare my fauour?
Ferd.
Else let heauen hate me.
Odil.
Farewell sweete heart.
Ferd.
Deare Loue God comfort thee.
Father, I leaue my Iewell in your hand.
Ferd. is going.
Lod.
I will be carefull.
Odil.
Sweete heart, Ferdinand.
Ferd.
What sayes Odillia?
Odil.
Nothing but God-buoy ye.
Exit. Ferdinand.
Lod.
Such loth farewell my wife and daughter tooke:
God blesse them both, and send vs well to meete.
Take comfort Lady, though this houre be sad,
His safe returne with wealth, may make you glad.
Enter Sir Nicholas and Bunch: Sir Nicholas hath a Paper in his hand.
Ni.
Sexton, I haue sought thee in euery seate in the Church,
doubting thou hadst bin drowsie, and falne a sleep in some piew.
Bunch.
Ile be sworne from the Chauncell to the Belfrey ye
haue sought him, and in the Steeple, for feare he had bene crept
into a Bell, and bene asleepe: Lord how do you mistresse? fie,
why do you weepe?
Faire Lady, let passe mourning for the absent; tis like sorrowing
for the dead: either Idolatrie or Hypocisie, I cannot tell
which: I could preach patience to ye, but your owne wit is as
much as my learning: your husbands absence you must beare;
yea and beare him also; in minde I meane: there bee but three
things that saue vs or condemne vs: that is, thoughts, words, and
deeds: and you may haue comfort in all, and so be saued in them
all; your owne good thoughts a good comfort: your friends
good words, a better comfort: and your husbands good deeds at
his returne, the best comfort. Thus much for instruction. Commaund
my seruice day and night, to ride and runne to doo ye
good.
Odil.
So M. Viccar, I am glad ye haue done.
Ni.
For this time and place I haue, because I haue somewhat
to say to my Sexton: here is a thing in writing (Sexton) that is
sent to be published through all the French Kings dominions.
Read it, let me heare it, and then thou shalt know my minde.
Lodwick reades.
To all Christians, and especially to the Kings Liedge-people,
Lord Epernoune and the rest of the French Nobilitie send greeting:
whereas the thrice noble, and renowned Prince Lodowick
Duke of Bulloigne, was by the Kings Maiestie (at his departure to
goe on his deuoted pilgrimage to the blessed Sepulchre) appointed
Ioynt-gouernour, Regent, and Protector of the Realme of
Fraunce: togither with that pernitious Arch-traytor Mercurie,
Duke of Aniou during the Kings absence. And that the said noble
Duke of Bulloigne was by the trecherous, vniust, and vnlawfull
Force of the said Mercury, expulsed out of his Dukedome,
Lands, Territories, and Reuenewes, and dispossessed of his place,
if not of his life. For as much as the said notorious malefactor
Mercurie, hath sithence proued himselfe an open enemie vnto
his natiue Countrey and King. We haue thought good to publish
and proclaime, that whosoeuer can bring true notice of the
safetie and life of the said Duke Lodwick, shall haue twentie
thousand Crownes. And he that doth present him aliue, shall
haue fiftie thousand Crownes. To the end that the said most honourable
vertuous Duke may be fully repossessed and restored
of Fraunce. Dated the last of May, &c. Subscribed by Epernoune
and other.
Ni.
By my holy orders thou art as well worthy to be a Viccar
as my selfe, thou readest so well: I prethee soone at Euensong
read this to the Parishioners, I cannot be there, for I haue promised
to bowle a match with good fellowes this afternoone at
Guynes for a wager, wet and drie, vz. two gallons of Gascoyne
wine, and two French Crownes, I can stay no longer, I feare they
stay for mee.
Bunch.
By this light I neuer sawe him make such haste into
the Pulpit.
Lod.
Heare me one word good maister ere ye goe,
And graunt me one petition, which is short.
All these French Crownes dare I assure mine owne:
For I do know where that poore Duke remaines,
And will present him to old Epernoune.
My sute is, that youle take this honest Bunch
To be your Sexton whilest I am away.
Ni.
I am content, giue Bunch the Church-doore key,
Vpon condition thou wilt say
Euen-song to the Parish this afternoone,
And read that publication to them.
Then go thy way to morrow if thou wilt:
Lord how time passes: In my conscience I burne day-light,
Tis one a clocke at least. Fare ye well, fare ye well,
I come yfaith lads, I come, though I come late,
I hope to lie as neare the Mistresse as any of ye all.
Exit.
Bunch.
Well, I see I shall haue your office, and I trust youle
bestow your spade and your pick-axe vpon mee, that I may
grinde them sharpe, to dispatch a graue quickly. And I pray you
as ye trauell vp into high Fraunce, send the plague and the pox,
and as many diseases as you can, downe into this Countrey to kil
the people, that I may get money for their graues making.
Lod.
Heere take the key, and toll to Euening prayer,
Ile do my maisters bidding ere I goe.
Sanctiamen, God giue mee ioy and luck in mine office.
Now boyes beware that ye wipe not your noses on your
sleeues, for and ye do, off goes your arme with the Church doore
key. And dogs keepe out of the Chauncell, ye shall smell of the
whip else. And honest Prentices, if ye please me, Ile not ring the
foure a clock Bell till it be past fiue: an occupation and an office?
now I see I shall thriue.
Exit.
Odil.
And will you goe and leaue me here alone
My onely friend, now Ferdinand is gone?
Lod.
Ask of your thoughts if they can counsel keep:
Which if vpon your honour you assure,
You shall pertake a secret very straunge.
Odil.
My faith and honour be engag'd for it.
Lod.
Exterior showes expresse not alwaies truth,
Nor do imaginations euer faile:
My Sextons case doth clowde Nobilitie.
And (if opinion do not reason wrong)
Rich noble bloud flowes through your pure cleare veines,
Which conceit drawes these secrets from my soule.
That fortunes scorne, that sorrow-tossed Duke
Lodwick of Bulloigne tells this tale to you
That can conceiue, conceale, and counsell mee.
Say Lady, (for I know you are no lesse)
Haue I not cause when Proclamation tells,
That Lodwick shall receiue redresse of wrongs?
To claime the due that ther vnto belongs?
Odil.
Great cause my Lord, and I to be content,
In this poore Coate to rest me patient,
Vntill my husband come or send for me.
Lod.
O had these tydings come ere he had gone,
Then he nor I had trauelled alone:
For Lady, I affirme it constantly,
I loue the Gentleman religiously,
Which in my bettered fortunes he shall find,
And then to you I purpose to be kind:
Then what you are, speake freely your faire mind.
Emanuell Duke of Brabant calld me child,
Till him for loue my Ferdinand beguild.
Lod.
I said and knew ye were no vulgar Dame,
For sparkes of honour will burst into flame:
Haplesse Odillia, but most fortunate,
Compar'd with my poore wiues and daughters state.
Odil.
Where be those Ladies? let me them attend.
Lod.
O knew I where, all griefe were at an end:
I heare, that London is their mansion place.
Odil.
But shall they not be sent for by your grace?
Lod.
Not yet Odillia, first Ile visit France:
Where if good starres my state do readuance,
And graunt me power to free my natiue soyle,
From those that now her wealth and beautie spoyle:
I may with comfort then call home my Ioy,
Till then, their sight will but reuiue annoy.
Odil.
What can you prize so highly as their sight?
Lod.
Women discerne not mens affaires aright:
I prize mine honour, and my countreys good,
More than wife, children, or my proper blood.
A Bell tolls within.
Harke the Bell tolls, the Sexton I must play
By promise once, to morrow Ile away.
Let me receiue some token at your hand,
That I may carrie vnto Ferdinand:
And this forget not, for a small end,
To come to vs if we for you do send.
Exeunt.
Enter Epernoune brought in, in his chayre.
So from this place I shall behold the fight
Betwixt both Armies: now go one of you,
And with our Leaders presently giue charge,
The other stay with me: Oh might the sight
Of Epernoune, be like the noone-tide Sun,
With the reflection of his feeble eye,
To melt like waxe the courage of our foes,
And make the French men stiffe as Adamant:
That they beare not a part in this conflict.
But now defiance from each partie flies.
Sound Trumpet first.
Enter Ferdinand pursuing Don Hugo, cutting him soundly.
A valiant Gentleman what ere thou art,
And by mine honour very nobly fought:
I haue not seene in all my life before,
So young, a tender, and effeminate face,
Father such rough and manly fortitude,
How like a waightie hammer did his sword
Fall on the Spaniards shrinking burgonet?
That had he not betooke him to his heeles,
This houre had bene his latest houre of life.
Alarum.
Enter Ferdinand againe, pursuing Don Hugo.
What still in chace? he will not giue him ore
Till he hath slaine, or made him yeeld I see:
A right begotten cockrell of the game.
Whence may he come? as I remember me,
I neuer sawe him in our campe till now.
I prithee goe raunge, through our battaile rankes,
And when you ouertake him, gently craue
He will vouchsafe to come and speake with me.
My heart's enamourd on his valourous deeds,
Spaniard, some more of such a haughtie breed,
Would make the stoutest of your hearts to bleed.
Enter Ferdinand.
And here he comes, faire bud of Chiualrie.
Welcome to Epernoune, giue me your hand,
I thanke you euen with all my very heart,
For this good seruice you haue done ro day.
Are you of Fraunce I pray you, or what place,
Is honourd by your noble parentage?
Fer.
I am (my Lord) the Duke of Brabants subiect,
A younger brother, whose inheritance
And for that cause, admonisht of these warres
Betweene the haughtie Spaniard and this Realme,
The noble Burbon gaue me entertaine.
Eper.
Are you his souldier? trust me for his sake,
I loue you better then I did before,
And for some confirmation of my loue,
Take this in earnest of a greater good.
Fer.
I humbly thanke your Lordship, and will rest
A faithfull seruitor to Fraunce and you.
Eper.
Nay stay a while, refresh your weary limbes,
A litle intermission will do well,
Amidst these sweating gorboyles: holy roode
There runnes a thought into my labouring minde,
Which from my heart sends gladnesse to mine eyes.
Me thinkes the more I view this Gentleman,
The more he doth resemble Bulloignes Duke,
The vertuous Lodwick both for face and limbe,
When he and I were fellow-mates in armes,
Against the Turke, such deeds of hardiment,
Did Lodwick shew as he hath done this day.
Euen such a iesture had he when he talkt,
As milde and affable in time of peace,
As he was sterne and boistrous in the warres.
All these apparant in this towardly youth,
Earle Lodowicks want doth wet my cheekes with iuth.
A shoute within, enter a Souldier.
What meanes this chearefull shoute?
Sol.
My Lord,
The battle of the Spaniards is disperst:
Beside, I bring to you this happie newes,
The worthy Duke of Bulloigne long desirde,
And much bewailed for his iniurie,
Liues and returnd about an houre since.
At his first comming, armd in complete steele,
Chaleng'd the Duke Medyna at his Tent,
And there in single combat like himselfe,
Hath slaine that proude disturber of our peace:
For which the Souldiers as you heard my Lord,
Did fill the ayre with their applausiue shoutes:
Thronging about him in such clustering heapes,
To see his face and do him reuerence,
As scarce he hath free passage to this place.
Eper.
Oh that I had or legges, or wings to flie,
That I might quickly satisfie mine eie
With sight of him whose companie's more worth
Then heapes of countlesse, and vnvalued Treasure.
But wher's the other Leader of that route,
Surnam'd Don Ugo, is he scapte the field?
Sol.
This Gentleman before Medyna dyed,
Gaue him his pasport to his longest home.
But my good Lord, I almost had forgot
The latter part of my behouefull message,
There is a straunger Duke of whence, my haste
Suffred me not to be instructed,
That likewise came with aide vnto our Campe,
And is well knowne vnto my Lord of Bulloigne.
Eper.
Now if I were inclosde within my graue,
I would as willingly forsake the world,
As wofull prisoners many yeares deteind
In darke obscuritie, could be content
To chaunge the dungeon for a publike walke.
But first let vs embrace our louing friend.
Sol.
Your honor may sit still, hees comming hither.
Enter Lodwick, Emanuell Duke of Brabant with souldiers.
Eper.
Right worthy Duke, whose victories euer shonne
Through cloudes of enuy, and disaster chaunge,
Make rich my bosome with imbalming thee,
And wherein ought my restraines my faltring tongue
Let vowes for words distinguish my content.
Welcome, oh welcome to vngouernd Fraunce,
Whose working garment of afflicting warre,
In peacefull robes of holiday attire.
And you my Lord of Brabant as I thinke?
Bra.
Your friend Lord Epernoune in what he may.
Eper.
Welcome in sooth, your presence with the rest,
Hath made me happie, and my countrey blest.
Lod.
These greetings reuerend Earle, exceed desert,
Had it bene Lodwicks fortune to haue donne
Ten times more seruice then this dayes exployt:
It might not be sufficient to redeeme
The lack of his endeuours all this while.
But heauen and you I hope will pardon me,
Considering I was forc't from hence to flie.
Eper.
I and most wrongfully inforc't my Lord,
But he that was the author of that ill,
The traytrous Duke of Aniou, by iust heauens,
Now at your mercie stands, one fetch him forth,
And Lodwick repossessed in the place,
If that authoritie his highnesse gaue;
Iudge and condemne according as you please.
Lod.
No, let him still be prisoner where he is,
Your wisedome hath discouerd his abuse,
And our dread Soueraigne shall determine it:
Were it my wrongs were greater then they are
I will not be a factor for my selfe.
Now, what is he my Lord of all this traine,
By whom our other enemie was slaine?
Don Ugo de Cordoua: faine would I
Know that braue Gentleman, and for the same,
Adde somewhat more vnto his honourd name.
Eper.
Therein my Lord, I shall account my selfe,
Much pleasurd by your grace: and this is he,
My Lord of Brabants subiect as he said.
Bra.
My subiect? traitrous villaine how he lies,
But I will be reueng'd vpon his crimes.
What may I call your name young Gentleman?
Fer.
My name is Ferdinand.
I know it well,
And litle thinkes he tis the Sextons hands
Draws forth a sword to giue him Knight-hood here:
But I am glad it is my fortunes chaunce,
To be of power to shew him any grace,
Whom I admir'd when first I saw his face.
Kneele downe young Ferdinand, and now againe,
Rise vp Sir Ferdinando, Lodwicks Knight.
Bra.
And rise withall base Ferdinand, false wretch,
Viler then puddle durt, thou spring of hate:
Neuer begot but of some dunghill churle.
Durst thou auow thou wast my subiect? durst
That impious tongue pronounce my name,
Whom thou hast most ingratefully incenst?
Villaine, more abiect than thought can decipher,
But I am glad that we are met at last.
Here in this presence I do chalenge thee
Of most notorious fellony and theft:
Let me haue iustice on this fugitiue
You Peeres of Fraunce, or else you iniure me.
Lod.
What moues the noble Brabant to this rage?
Eper.
Oh wherfore staine you vertue and renowne
With such foule tearmes of ignomy and shame?
Bra.
Vertue my Lords? you guild a rotten sticke,
You spread faire honours garments on the ground,
And dignifie a loathsome swine with Pearle.
This shadow of a seeming Gentleman,
This glosse of pietie, deceiues your sight:
Hees nothing so, nor so, but one my Lords,
Whom I haue fostred in my Court of almes.
And to requite my carefull indulgence,
Hath Iudaslike betrai'd his maisters life,
And stolne mine onely daughter to allay
The sensuall fire of his inkindled lust:
For which, let me haue iustice, and the law.
Lod.
You shall haue iustice, though I cannot thinke,
So faire a shape hath had so foule a forge.
Alack the day, misfortune should so soone
Disturbe our friendship was so well begunne:
Come hither Ferdinand, and tell me truth
If thou be guiltie as the Duke informes?
Fer.
I not denie my Lord, but I am married
Vnto Odillia, though vnworthy farre
Of such a gracious blessing: yet her loue
Was forward in the choise as well as mine.
Bra.
See how he goes about to cloake the fact
With loue and marriage? no adulterous swaine,
Your hedge-betroathing couenant shall not serue.
Where is your sweete companion, where is she?
But we will talke of that an other time.
Why is my Lord of Bulloigne so remisse,
And will not presently be giuen in charge,
A paire of boltes be clapt vpon his heeles?
Lod.
Without offence my Lord vnto your grace,
My selfe will vndertake to be his bayle,
And he shall answere if you so be pleasde,
Your accusation when you will appoint
A day of hearing; be it to morrow next.
Bra.
And euen to morrow let his triall be,
I will no longer haue the cause deferd.
Exit.
Eper.
And Ferdinando, in this time of need,
Old Epernoune will stand thee in some steed.
Good Duke of Bullen, vse him kindly yet,
Whil'st I do follow this incensured Lord,
And try if teares may driue him to accord.
Exit.
Lod.
Now Ferdinand, heres none but you and I,
Know you not mee?
Fer.
I cannot call it to my mind my Lord,
That euer I did see your grace till now.
Lod.
Bethinke your selfe, looke better on my face.
Fer.
There is my Lord, with pardon be it spoke,
A man in Ards, a Sezton of a Church,
With whom I had acquaintance, he me thinkes
Is somewhat like your excellence, or else
Lod.
The Sexton there is Duke of Bulloigne here:
Be not abasht, twas I to whom you left
Your faire Odilliæ, and tis I can witnesse,
That you and she are lawfull man and wife.
This may be some defence against the streame
Of angry Brabant, that pursues your life.
Come, I haue send in priuate for the dame,
And by all meanes to shield you both from shame.
Exeunt.
Enter Sir Nicholas with a Letter, Odillia with a Letter in her hand, Bunch, and Nuntio.
Ni.
And must we thus (faire Lady) forgo your sweet cōpany?
Odil.
You see my Lord of Bulloigne sends for me,
With him remaines my husband Ferdinand,
So you perceiue how much it me concernes,
To leaue this place to better my estate.
Ni.
I cannot blame a faire Lady, to leaue a bad thing to go to a
better: my friend, thank the Duke of Bulloigne, my quondam
Sexton for his kind Letter. I may say that, nere a Priest in Picardie
can say beside, that I haue had a Duke to my Sexton, bee it
spoken without pride.
Bunch.
The Diuell ye ha? was he not my petticessor I pray
ye? I was his quaintance afore he knew you, friend, do my condemnations
to him, one Bunch that botch'd in his Citie, ran away
in his company, and dwelt where hee dwelt, with Dutch Yacob
Smelt. And for my better grace, ye may say Barnabie Bunch that
has his Sextons place. Harke ye friend, you haue brought no diseases
with ye, haue ye?
Aside.
Nuntio.
Why doest thou aske so fond a question?
Bunc.
Marrie I spake to him when he went, to send the plague
or the pox or some disease of high France, downe into this lowe
Countrey, to lay the men of Ards lowe, that that I may haue money
for their graues, and marrie one of their wiues, if ye haue any
furmitie about ye, as the stone, or the dropsie, the pip, or the palsey,
Ile giue ye as much for it as an other to haue it left in our Parish.
Odil.
Will ye not write Sir Nicholas to the Duke?
Ni.
To tell ye true Lady, a Letter of six lines, is three dayes
write: if he haue a better Benefice or two for me, tell him I will
come.
Bunch.
Then we come, both the Viccar and the Sexton.
Odil.
Why Bunch, I thought you would haue gone with me.
Bunch.
Truly not thus aduisde, if ye had no husband. so: but
hauing a husband, no. I can be but well, and the hardest of my
my learning is past: I can say Amen without booke, chime two
Bells at once, whip a dog with both hands, know the difference
of the stroakes in tolling for men and women: grease the Bellropes,
turne the clappers, sweepe the church, helpe the Viccar on
with his surplesse. All this I haue by roate ye may tell the Duke,
as if I had bene bound prentice to the Trade: and for making a
graue, come all Picardie for the price of my pickaxe.
Odil.
We stay too long, Sir Nicholas, farewell,
And farewell Bunch.
Exeunt Odillia and Nuntio.
Bunch.
Hartily to you: pray ye condemn me to your husband
M. farting Androw.
Ni.
Ferdinando, Bunch, thou misterm'st his name.
Bunch.
So haue you done many a one in the first lesson, God
forgiue ye.
Ni.
Let that passe amongst the rest of my veniall sinnes,
And tell me Bunch, tell me, where's the best licker?
Bunch.
At the greene Dragon gentle maister Viccar.
Ni.
Will the Dragon sting?
Bunch.
From the head to the heele,
He will sting your braine so, that heele make your seete reele.
Ni.
Lets go play for two pots, away Bunch away.
Bunch.
Then the Parish is like to haue no seruice to day.
Exeunt.
Enter Lodwick, Emanuell, Epernoune in his chaire, Frederick with the Prouost and a Headsman.
Bra.
My Lord of Bulloigne, many things might vrdge
Your speed of Iustice, for so iust a wrong,
As the regard of your owne princely state,
The right of Princes, which should vnder-prop
An honourable and direct reuenge.
I could perhaps say, were it not in Iustice,
The bloud of Brabant, should deserue of Bulloigne:
But I disrobe and strip off all regard,
And lay my wrongs as nakedly before you,
As comes an Infant borne into the world.
Lod.
My Lord of Brabant, what I freely vrdge,
Is not to to stop or turne the course of Iustice,
Which must sway all our actions, and must stand
Steady and fixed in one certaine point:
But onely be entreatie to your grace,
To supple your proceeding in this case.
Eper.
My Lord of Brabant, may old Epernoune
By license of my Lord, the Duke of Bulloigne
Haue leaue to speake, an old foole that I am,
By your good patience let me say my minde.
Now by my troath I cannot speake for teares.
Alasse, alasse, theres something I would say,
Now God helpe age, would I were in my graue.
Iustice may cut off Ferdinand, where is he?
O art thou there poore man? alasse, alasse:
Iustice may cut him off, Ile not denie,
But turne him with his sword amongst his foes,
And he that buyes his life shall buy it deare.
Alasse poore boy, would I could do thee good:
Oh to see him leade an Armie in the field,
Would make a man young, were as old as I.
I would thou hadst dyed where I saw thee last,
Euen in the midst of all the Spanish Armie,
On that condition I had dide with thee:
God helpe, God helpe, an ill mischance soone falles,
And still the weakest goe vnto the walles.
Bra.
Defer me not my Lord, let me haue Iustice.
Lod.
My Lord you must haue Iustice, that you know,
But yet my Lord of Brabant, might our loue
With what an easie sweetnesse should our iudgement
Be relished of euery gentle heart?
Bra.
My Lord of Bulloigne vrge me not with pittie,
He against whom I am thus pittilesse
Robd me of pittie: proceed vnto your iudgement.
Eper.
God help, pittie is banisht from the earth I see,
Thou pittiest none, nor no man pitties thee.
Bra.
Old man thou doatest.
Eper.
Thou art a naughtie Lord, I tel thee Brabant,
The day hath bene thou durst not tell me so.
Lod.
Haue patience gentle father, true noble Lord,
He will haue death: whose there?
Commaund the Lady presently be brought.
Lodwick ascends, the Lady is brought in.
Bra.
Lodwick of Bulloigne, is it not inough
Thou hast delaid me in the case of Iustice,
But bringst this hatefull whore vnto my sight
To vex and grieue my soule? I tell thee Bulloigne,
Thou wrongst mine honour with indignitie.
Fre.
Ah were it any tongue that calld thee so
But his Odillia, I would make that word
Hereticall and full of blasphemie.
Bra.
My Lord of Bulloigne, I will not abide her.
Lod.
My Lord you must abide her, since for her
You seeke the life of this young Ferdinand,
Sift lawe so stricktly, follow the offence,
Take all aduantage of your euidence.
Eper.
Now by my troath a goodly wench indeed:
Alas poore Earle, faire Princesse speake thy mind
And Ile stand by thy side, and yet I cannot,
Ah this whorson age, well, well.
Hee weepes.
Bra.
I will not heare her speake.
Lod.
All's one my Lord of Brabant, we will heare her:
Speake freely Princesse, and without controll.
Odis.
Right reuerend Lord, if onely for my sake,
I heere acquit my husband of the fault,
Although I cannot of the punishment.
I was the theefe, I was the rauisher,
And I am onely guiltie of the fact.
How like a robber did I lie in waite
With beautie to entrap his gentle youth?
And like a spirit when he hath walkt alone,
How was I euer tempting him to loue?
How with my fauour did I worke his breast,
Which at the first was stubborne, Iron, cold,
Till I brought his heart to supple temper,
To take the soft impression of affection?
With these allurements would I oft entice him,
Though thou be base, my loue shall make thee noble:
Though thou be poore, my power shall make thee rich:
Though thou be scornd, my state shall make thee reuerenc'd.
Let any of you all thinke with himselfe,
Were he so meane, so friendlesse, and vnknowne.
Wooed by a virgin Princesse of my birth,
So young, so great, so rich, as is my selfe:
Thinkes he, he would not do as he hath done?
Hees guiltlesse of the fault: I was the cause,
Let me endure the rigor of your lawes.
Fer.
O thou doest wound my loue with too much louing.
Thy beautie is not prized but with death:
That man hath not a soule, that would not die,
One houre t'enioy thy blessed company.
Eper.
Nay, I must weep out these poore eyes are left,
I neuer saw a cause so full of pittie.
Bra.
My Lord proceed, the law adiudges death
To him that steales the heire of any Prince,
That's not a Prince that doth commit the act.
He is my slaue, one that was found by me
Being a child, not fully two yeares old,
And as't should seeme, begot in bastardie,
And by the parents to that wicked fruite,
What time the warres in Burgundy fell out,
And that my Dutchesse perisht in the flight,
Nor neuer did I know what was his name,
Being so young, he could not tell the same:
Onely vpon his muckiter and band, he had an F.
By which I did suppose his name was Ferdinand,
And so I nam'd him.
Lod.
O blessed heauen, what sound is this I heare?
My litle boy was lost euen at that time:
Iust of that age, and by that Riuers side,
Whose name was christned Fredericke, by my father,
And had an F. on euery thing he wore.
It is my sonne, be silent yet a while.
My Lord of Brabant, then I take exception
Both vnto your enditement, and your plea.
Bra.
As how my Lord of Bulloigne? do me iustice.
Lod.
He is encited by the name of Ferdinand,
And I will proue him christned Fredericke,
And thus is your enditement ouerthrowne.
Bra.
It is a fallacie my Lord of Bulloigne,
He hath bene euer called by that name.
Bulloigne, do me Iustice, or by heauen
It is not Fraunce shall hold thee, impious Duke.
Lod.
Nay if ye be so hotte my Lord of Brabant,
Then to your plea that doth concerne him most.
The lawe is this, that he shall loose his head,
That steales away the heire of any Prince,
If not a Prince that doth commit the rape.
Bra.
So is my plea.
Lod.
I graunt but voyd in this.
He is a Prince that stole away thy daughter,
This is not Ferdinand, but Frederick:
The heire of Bulloigne, and my onely sonne,
Ah my sweete boy, ah my deare Frederick:
Here now I stand, and here doth stand my boy,
In Christendome let any two that dare
That he is not as great a Prince as Brabant.
Eper.
Nay Ile be one, any three what ere they be,
And Brabant be thou one to answere vs,
Some honest man helpe me to Frederick.
For ioy I shall weepe out mine eyes.
Bra.
Bulloigne, how doest thou know him for thy sonne?
Lod.
Why Cousin Brabant, you say you found him
Hid in the segs by the Riuer: euen at that instant,
And at the very place, the Dutchesse my deare sister perished:
With whom my litle boy was at that time,
The place, the instant, and his certaine age,
The letters set to signifie his name,
The very manner of your finding him
When you departed from me with your Armie,
In the pursuite of traytrous Mercurie.
These all affirme that he is onely mine.
Bra.
My Lord of Bulloigne, I embrace your loue,
In all firme and true brotherly affection:
I make your sonne my sonne, my daughter yours,
And do intreat in Princely curtesie,
Old griefe henceforth, no more be thought vpon.
Lod.
Deare brother Brabant, your true princely kindnesse
Doth but forestall, what I would haue requested.
Right noble Prince, I giue you Frederick,
And I accept your sweete Odillia.
Come, thou art now the Duke of Bulloignes daughter,
Thy husband is the Duke of Brabants sonne,
Thou shalt be now my care, my sonne thy fathers.
Thus do we make exchaunge betwixt each others,
Thus should it be, betwixt two louing brothers.
Eper.
Nay, nay, let me be one I pray you Lords,
I haue no child left to inherit mine
When I shall die, as long I cannot liue,
I freely giue them all that ere I haue.
He weepes.
Lod.
A thousand thankes, true noble Epernoune:
Brother of Brabant, Frederick, and faire Princesse,
All together.
Our father, guide, and comfort we you call,
And be you euer honoured of vs all.
Enter Villiers, Oriana, and Diana.
Uil.
Iustice my Lord of Bulloigne, I beseech you.
Bul.
My friend, what is thy cause, then let vs know,
Sit downe good brother Brabant, and the rest.
Vil.
My Lord, my sute is here against a widow
That I haue long time su'd in way of marriage.
Bul.
Let me with iudgement view this woman well.
Aside.
Stay let me see, it is my Oriana,
And my poore Dyan, my deare loued Girle.
Alasse poore soules, what woe and miserie
Haue ye endured since I left you last?
I will forbeare my knowledge till I see
To what effect this cause will sort vnto.
Tell on your case: of whence, and whats your name?
Vil.
I am of Rochell, and my name Villiers.
Lod.
Of what profession?
Vil.
A Merchant I, my honourable Lord.
Ori.
But though you be a Merchant, I beleeue
Here is some ware you must not deale withall.
Thinkst thou Dyana, my deare Lord thy father,
Will know vs in this Seampsters poore disguise?
Dya.
Madam, I know not, for much time is past
Since he at Newkerk parted with vs last.
She must be widow if the Merchants wife,
But by this match I thinke hee'll hardly thriue.
Lod.
M. Villiers, you shall haue Iustice sir,
Speake in your cause you haue free libertie.
Vil.
My Lord of Bulloigne, thus then stands my case,
This Gentlewoman whom my sute concernes,
Being embark'd for England with her daughter,
To seeke her husbands as she made report,
Twixt Sluice in Flaunders where she went aboord,
And Goodwines Sands, by sturdie aduerse windes,
Was beaten backe vpon the coast of Fraunce,
And came to Rochell, where my dwelling is.
Let her a house conuenient as I thought,
And lent her mony to supply her wants,
And afterwards wonne by affection,
I did solicite her in way of marriage,
But still she did deferre me with delaies,
Because she said her husband still did liue:
But for my kindnes if her husband died,
She told me then, I was the likest to speed.
She hauing got some mony by her needle,
Desired me to let her haue a lease:
The lease was drawne, to which she put her name
Widow, which here her owne hand testifies:
Which being thus confessed by herselfe,
I by her promise claime her for my wife.
Lod.
The case is plaine.
Oria.
That he shall go without mee.
Lod.
Lady, what way haue you to auoyd this bond?
Here is your hand set to confirme the deed.
Oria.
But not my heart: and that I will be sworne.
Heer's one I thinke, that hath had that too long
To leaue it now, or else I haue more wrong.
Vnto the Scriuener I referd the same,
And he put that word, widow to my name.
I humbly do intreat your highnes fauour,
For if you knew where I had dwelt before,
I thinke you would do that for me, and more.
Lod.
Speak gentlewoman, where haue you bin bred?
Oria.
I was attending in my yonger yeares,
And this sweet Girle, though now thus mean & poore
Vpon the Duchesse, the Dukes wife of Bulloigne,
Though I say it, one that she loued once,
Whilst she did flourish in prosperitie:
And had not fortune much impaird her state,
I had not now stood in such need of friends.
She weepes.
But when the greatest into daunger falles,
The weakest still did go vnto the walles.
Tis very true, that haue I tried my selfe,
Thy teares no longer can conceale my loue.
Rise Oriana, rise my sweete Dyana,
Lodwicks true wife, and his right vertuous.
Imbrace thy lost sonne Frederick once more,
Whom we supposed neuer to haue seene.
With him receiue a daughter, Brabants heire,
He hath bene foster-father to thy boy,
And both are here to full compleat our ioy.
Oria.
My deare Frederick?
Dia.
My beloued brother?
Fre.
Oh happie Frederick finding such a mother,
And such a sister, father, friends and all,
Neuer a man did better fortune fall.
Lod.
How say you M. Merchant? is your suite voyd
In lawe or no? is she a widow now?
Vil.
No my good Lord, and I reioyce thereat.
Lod.
Thankes, but we will requite thy loue and kindnesse
Extended to them in necessitie:
And our reward thou shalt haue liberally.
Enter a Messenger.
What newes with thee, thou commest in such haste:
Mes.
His highnesse from his holy Pilgrimage
Is home returnd, and doth require your presence.
Lod.
That's but our dutie, welcome is our King,
His highnesse now shall sentence traitrous Aniou,
According as his trecheries deserue,
And all our ioyes shall be disclosde to him,
That haue so happily this day befalne.
Thus time the saddest heart from sorrow calles,
And helpes the weake, long thrust vnto the walles.
Exeunt.
FINIS.
| The Weakest goeth to the VVall | |