University of Virginia Library

Scena. 5.

Enter Cassandra, Polina, and one mayde.
Cas.
Aye me, alas: my hope is vntimely,
Whether goes my good Lord?

Pro.
Sweete wife, to dye.

Cas.
O wretched wench, where may I first complayne?
When heauen, and earth, agrees vpon my payne?

Pro.
This mone good wife, for Chrystes sake, forsake:
I late resolu'd, through feare of death, now quake.
Not so much, for my haynous sinnes forepast:
As for the greefe that present thou dost tast.

Cas.
Nay, I vile wretch, should most agreeued be,
Before thy time, thy death which hastened haue:
But (O swete husband) my fault forgeue mee.
And for amends, Ile helpe to fyll thy graue:

Pro.
Forgeue thee, ah: nay, for my soules releefe,
Forget sweete wyfe, this thy most guyltles greefe.

Mar.
My Lord Promos, these playntes, but moue hir mone,
And your more greefe, it is best you ware gone:
Good Maddame way, by lawe, your Lord doth dye,
Wherefore make vertue of necessity:
Delay, but workes your sorrowes, and our blames,
So that now, to the comfort of these dames:
And your wisdome, inforced, we leaue you:
My Lord Promos, byd your wife and friends adew.

Pro.
Farewell, farewell, be of good cheare deare wyfe:
With ioy for woe, I shall exchange this life.
Andrugios death, Polina forgeue mee:

Poli.
I doe, and pray the Lord, to releeue yee.

Cas.
Yet ere we part, sweete husband let vs kis,
O, at his lyppes, why fayleth not my breath?

Pro.
Leaue mone, swete wife, I doe deserue this death.
Farewell, farewell.

They all depart, saue Polina, Cassandra, and her vvoman.
Cas.
My louing Lorde, farewell,
I hope ere long, my soule with thine shall dwell.

Po.
Now, good Madame, leaue of this bootelesse griefe.

Cas.
O Polina, sorrowe is my reliefe.
Wherfore, sweete wenche, helpe me to rue my woe,
With me vyle wretche, thy bytter plaintes bestowe:
To hasten lyngring death, who wanteth might:
I see, alone, to sley, the wretched wight.

Po.
Nay, first powre foorth your playnts, to the powers Diuine,
When hate, doth clowde, all worldly grace, whose mercies styll do shine.

Cas.
The Song of Cassandra.

Enter Ganio sometime Andrugios Boye.
Ga.
O sweete newes, for Polina and Cassandra.
Andrugio lyues:

Po.
What doth poore Ganio saye?

Ga.
Andrugio lyues: and Promos is repriu'd.

Cas.
Uaine is thy hope, I sawe Andrugio dead.

Ga.
Well, then from death, he is againe reuyu'd.
Euen nowe, I sawe him, in the market stead.

Po.
His wordes are straunge.

Cas.
Too sweete, God wot, for true.

Ga.
I praye you, who are these here in your view?

Cas.
The King.

Ga.
Who more?

Po.
O, I see Andrugio.

Cas.
And I my Lorde Promos, adue sorrowe.

Enter the King, Andrugio, Promos, Ulrico, the Marshall.
Po.
My good Andrugio?

An.
My sweete Polina:

Cas.
Lyues Andrugio, welcome sweete brother.

An.
Cassandra?

Cas.
I.

An.
Howe fare, my deare Syster?

King.
Andrugio, you shall haue more leysure,
To greete one another: it is our pleasure,
That you forthwith, your Fortunes here declare,
And by what meanes, you thus preserued weare.

An.
My faull, through loue, and iudgement for my faulte.
Lorde Promos wronges, vnto my Sister done.
My death supposde, dreade King, were vaine to tell.
Cassandra heare, those dealinges all hath showne.
The rest are these.
When I should dye, the Gayler mou'd to ruth,
Declard to mee, what Promos pleasure was:
Amazde wherat, I tolde him all the trueth,
What, betwene Cassandra, and him dyd passe.
He much agrieu'd, Lorde Promos guylt to heare,
Was verie lothe, mee (wofull man) to harme:
At length, iust God, to set me (wretched) cleare,
With this defence, his wylling minds dyd arme.
Two dayes afore, to death, were diuers done,
For seuerall faultes, by them committed:
So that of them, he tooke the head from one,
And to Cassandra, the same presented:
Affirming it, to be hir brothers head.
Which done, by night, he sent me post away,
None but supposed, that I in deede was dead:
When as in trueth, in vncouth hauntes I laye.
In fine, a Clowne, came peaking through the wood,
Wherin I lyu'd, your Graces being here:
And Promos death, by whome I vnderstood,
Glad of which newes, howe so I lyud in feare.
I ventured to see his wretched fall:
To free suspect, yet straunger lyke arayde,
I hether came: but loe, the inwarde thrall
Of Cassandra, the hate, so sore dismayde.
Which I conceyued agaynst my brother Promos,
That loe, I chews'd, to yeeld my selfe to death,
To set him free: for otherwyse I knew,
His death ere long, would sure haue stopt her breath.
Loe gratious king, in breefe I here haue showne,
Such aduentures, as wretched I haue past:
Beseeching you with grace to thinke vpon,
The wight that wayles, his follyes at the last.

King.
A strange discourse, as straungely come to light,
Gods pleasure is, that thou should'st pardoned be:
To salue the fault, thou with Polina mad'st,
But marry her, and heare I set thee free.

An.
Most gratious Prince, thereto I gladly gree:

Poli.
Polina, the happiest newes of all for thee.

Cas.
Most gratious King, with these my ioye to match,
Uouchsafe, to geue my dampned husbande lyfe.

King.
If I doo so, let him thanke thee his Wife:
Cassandra, I haue noted thy distresse,
Thy vertues eke, from first, vnto the last:
And glad I am, without offence it lyes,
In me to ease, thy griefe, and heauines.
Andrugio sau'd, the iuell of thy ioye,
And for thy sake, I pardon Promos faulte.
Yea let them both, thy vertues rare commende:
In that their woes, with this delyght doth ende.

Company.
God preserue your Maiestie.

Pro.
Cassandra, howe shall I discharge thy due?

Cas.
I dyd, but what a Wife, shoulde do for you.

King.
Well, since all partes are pleased, as they woulde,
Before I parte, yet Promos, this to thee:
Henceforth, forethinke, of thy forepassed faultes,
And measure Grace, with Iustice euermore.
Unto the poore, haue euermore an eye,
And let not might, out countenaunce their right:
Thy Officers, trust not in euery tale.
In chiefe, when they are meanes, in strifes and sutes,
Though thou be iust, yet coyne maye them corrupt.
And if by them, thou dost vniustice showe,
Tys thou shalt beare, the burden of their faultes.
Be louing to good Cassandra, thy Wife:
And friendlie to thy brother Andrugio,
Whome I commaund, as faythfull for to be
To thee, as beseemes the duety of a brother.
And now agayne, thy gouernment receyue,
Inioye if so, as thou in Iustice ioye.
If thou be wyse, thy fall maye make thee ryse.
The lost sheepe founde, for ioye, the feast was made.
Well, here an ende, of my aduise I make,
As I haue sayde, be good vnto the poore,
And Iustice ioyne, with mercie enermore.

Pro.
Most gratious King, I wyll not fayle my best,
In these preceptes, to followe your beheast.