 | The seconde part of the Famous Historie of Promos and Cassandra |  |
Actus. 1.
Scena. 1.
Polinain a blewe Gowne, shadowed with a blacke Sarcenet, going to the Temple to praye, vpon Andrugios Tombe.
Promise
is debt, and I my vowe haue past,
Andrugios Tombe, to wash with daylie teares:
Which Sacrifice (although God wot in waste)
I wyll performe, my Alter is of cares.
Of fuming sighes, my offring incense is,
My pittious playntes, in steede of Prayers are:
Yea, woulde to God in penaunce of my mys.
I with the rest, my loathed lyfe might share.
But O in vaine, I wish this welcomde ende,
Death is to slowe, to slaye the wretched wight:
And all to soone, he doth his forces bende,
To wounde their hartes, which wallowe in delight.
Yet in my care, styll goes, my passing Bell,
So ofte as I, Andrugios death doo minde:
So ofte as men, with poynted fingers tell,
Their friendes, my faultes, which by my weedes they finde.
But O the cause, with Death, which threates me most,
I wysh to dye, I dye through wretched woe,
My dying harte, desires to yeelde the ghost,
My traunces straunge, a present death foreshowe.
But as the reede doth bow at euery blast.
To breake the same, when rowghest stormes lackes might,
So wretched I, with euery woe doe waste,
Yet care wants force, to kyll my hart out ryght.
O gratious God and is my gilt so great.
As you the same, with thousand deathes must wreake?
You will it so, else care I could intreate?
With halfe these woes, my thryd of lyfe, to breake.
But what meanst thou Polina, most accurst,
To muse, why God, this pennaunce ioynes thee to?
Whose correction, although we take at worst,
To our great good he doth the same bestow.
So that, syth greefe can not relyue my friend,
Syth scorching syghes my sorrowes cannot drye:
Syth care himselfe, lackes force my lyfe to ende,
Syth styll I lyue that euery howre doe dye:
Syth mighty God appoyntes my pennaunce so,
In mornefull song I wyll my patience show,
Polinas Song.Andrugios Tombe, to wash with daylie teares:
Which Sacrifice (although God wot in waste)
I wyll performe, my Alter is of cares.
Of fuming sighes, my offring incense is,
My pittious playntes, in steede of Prayers are:
Yea, woulde to God in penaunce of my mys.
I with the rest, my loathed lyfe might share.
But O in vaine, I wish this welcomde ende,
Death is to slowe, to slaye the wretched wight:
And all to soone, he doth his forces bende,
To wounde their hartes, which wallowe in delight.
Yet in my care, styll goes, my passing Bell,
So ofte as I, Andrugios death doo minde:
So ofte as men, with poynted fingers tell,
Their friendes, my faultes, which by my weedes they finde.
But O the cause, with Death, which threates me most,
I wysh to dye, I dye through wretched woe,
My dying harte, desires to yeelde the ghost,
My traunces straunge, a present death foreshowe.
But as the reede doth bow at euery blast.
To breake the same, when rowghest stormes lackes might,
So wretched I, with euery woe doe waste,
Yet care wants force, to kyll my hart out ryght.
O gratious God and is my gilt so great.
As you the same, with thousand deathes must wreake?
You will it so, else care I could intreate?
With halfe these woes, my thryd of lyfe, to breake.
To muse, why God, this pennaunce ioynes thee to?
Whose correction, although we take at worst,
To our great good he doth the same bestow.
So that, syth greefe can not relyue my friend,
Syth scorching syghes my sorrowes cannot drye:
Syth care himselfe, lackes force my lyfe to ende,
Syth styll I lyue that euery howre doe dye:
Syth mighty God appoyntes my pennaunce so,
In mornefull song I wyll my patience show,
Amyd my bale, the lightning ioy, that pyning care doth bring,
VVith patience cheares my heauy hart, as in my vvoes I sing,
I knovv my Gilt, I feele my scurge: my ease is death I see:
And care (I fynde) by peecemeale vveares, my hart to set mee free.
O care, my comfort and refuge, feare not to worke thy vvyll,
VVith patience I, thy corsiues byde, feede on my life thy fyll.
Thy appetyte with syghes and teares, I dayly vvyl procure,
And wretched I, wil vaile to death, throw when thou wilt thy Lure.
Exit, Polina,
VVith patience cheares my heauy hart, as in my vvoes I sing,
I knovv my Gilt, I feele my scurge: my ease is death I see:
And care (I fynde) by peecemeale vveares, my hart to set mee free.
O care, my comfort and refuge, feare not to worke thy vvyll,
VVith patience I, thy corsiues byde, feede on my life thy fyll.
Thy appetyte with syghes and teares, I dayly vvyl procure,
And wretched I, wil vaile to death, throw when thou wilt thy Lure.
Scena. 2.
Enter a Messenger from the King.I haue at length (though weery come in troth)
Obtaynd a sight of Iulios stately walles,
A Kings message, can not be done with sloth:
Whome he bids goe, must runne through myre and dyrt,
And I am sent, to Lord Promos in post,
To tel him that the king wyll see him strayght,
But much I feare that Promos needes not bost:
Of any gayne by his soueraygnes receyte,
Though subiects oft in Princes meaning prye,
They must their words, and not their myndes declare,
Unto which course I wyll my tongue apply,
Lord Promos shall my princes comming know,
My prince himselfe, the cause thereof shall show.
Exit.
Scena. 3.
Rosko Lamias man.Ros.
Ist possible that my Mistris Lamia,
Ouer the shooes should b'yn loue with Phallax?
Why by Iesus (as she her selfe doth saye,)
With pure good wyll, her harte doth melt lyke waxe:
And this I am sure, euery howre they themselues,
By their sweete selues, or by their letters greete.
But the sporte is to see the louing elues,
Byll together when they in secret meete.
She lowres, he lauffes, she syghes throwe pure loue.
Nay, nay, sayes he (good pugges) no more of this:
Well, sayes shee, and weepes, my griefe you do not proue.
Then strayght this storme is cheared with a kys,
And then aboth sides, three wordes and a smouch:
Within hir eare, then whispereth this flouch,
And by the way he stumbleth on her lyppes.
Thus eyther stryues most louing signes to show,
Much good doo it them, syth they are both content,
Once I am sure, how so the game doth goe,
I haue no cause their lyking to repent:
I syldome doe betweene them message beare,
But that I haue an Item in the hande,
Well, I must trudge to doe a certaine chare,
Which, take I tyme, cocke for my gayne doth stand.
Scena. 4.
Phallax. Dowson a Carpenter.Phal.
Dispatch Dowson, vp with the frame quickly,
So space your roomes, as the nyne worthyes may,
Be so instauld, as best may please the eye.
Dow.
Uery good, I shall:
Phal.
Nay soft Dowson, stay:
Let your man at saynt Annes crosse, out of hande,
Ereckt a stage, that the Wayghts in sight may stande.
Dow.
Wyll you ought else?
Phal.
Soft awhyle, let mee see,
On Iesus gate, the fowre vertues I trow,
Appoynted are to stand:
Dow.
I syr, they are so.
Phal.
Wel, then about your charge, I wyll fore see,
The Consort of Musick, well plast to be.
Dow.
I am gone syr.
Exit.
Scena. 5.
The Bedell of the Taylers, Phallax.Be.
Heare you maister Phallax?
The Wardens of the Marchantaylers axe,
Where (with themselues) they shall their Pageaunt place?
Phal.
With what strange showes, doo they their Pageaunt grace?
Be.
They haue Hercules, of Monsters conqueryng,
Huge great Giants, in a forest fighting,
With Lyons, Beares, VVolues, Apes, Foxes, and Grayes,
Baiards, Brockes. &c.
Phal.
O wondrous frayes,
Marry syr, since they are prouided thus,
Out of their wayes, God keepe Maister Pediculus.
You are plesaunt syr, but with speede I pray,
You aunswere mee, I was charged not to stay.
Phal.
Because I know, you haue all things currant,
They shall stand where they shal no viewers want:
How say you to the ende of Ducke Alley?
Be.
There all the beggers in the towne wilbe.
Phal.
O, most attendaunce is, where beggers are,
Farewell, away.
Be.
I wyll your wyll declare.
Exit.
Scena. 6.
Phallax, Two men, apparrelled, lyke greene men at the Mayors feast, with clubbes of fyre worke.Phal.
This geare fadgeth now, that these fellowes peare,
Friendes where waight you?
First.
In Iesus streete to keepe a passadge cleare,
That the King and his trayne, may passe with ease.
Phal.
O, very good,
Second.
Ought else Syr, do you please?
Phal.
No, no: about your charge.
Both.
We are gone:
Exeunt.
Phal.
A syr, heare is short knowledge, to entertayne a kyng,
But O, O, quid non pecunia? yea, at a dayes warning?
The king in prouision that thought to take vs tardy,
As if we had a yeare bene warnd, shall by his welcome see:
I haue yet one chare to do: but soft, heare is Rosko,
I must needes delyuer him a messadge before I goe.
Scena. 7.
Rosko, Phallax.Ros.
I fayth, I haue noble newes for Lamia,
Phal.
Nay soft, friend Rosko, take myne in your way.
Mayster Phallax, O syr I cry you mercy,
Phal.
Rosko with speede tell thy Mistris from mee,
The King straight wayes wyll come to the Cytie:
In whose great trayne there is a company,
Within her house with mee shall mery be.
Therefore, for my sake, wyll her to foresee,
To welcome them, that nothing wanting be,
This is all I wyll, for want of leysure.
Exit.
Ros.
I wyll not fayle syr, to show your pleasure:
Mary, in fayth, these newes falles iumpe with the rest,
They shalbe welcome and fare of the best:
But although they well fyll their bodyes thus,
Their purses will be dryuen to a non plus:
No force a whyt, each pleasure hath his payne,
Better the purce then body starue of twayne.
Well, I wyll trudge, my welcome newes to tell,
And then abroade, good company to smell.
Exit.
Scena. 8.
Coruinus the King, Cassandra, two counsellers. And Vdislao, a young noble man.Kyng.
Cassandra, we draw neare vnto the Towne,
So that I wyll that you from vs depart:
Tyll further of our pleasure you doe heare.
Yet rest assur'd, that wycked Promos,
Shall abide such punishment, as the world,
Shal hould mee iust, and cleare thee of offence.
Cas.
Dread soueraigne, as you wyl, Cassandra goeth hence.
Exit.
King.
I playnely see, it tendes to great behoue,
That Prynces oft doo vayle their eares to heare,
The Misers playnt: for though they doe appoynt,
Such as they thynke will Iustice execute,
Aucthority is such a commaunder,
If they their rule by conscience measure not,
The poore mans ryght is ouercome by might.
If loue or hate from Iustice leade the Iudge,
Then money sure may ouerrule the case.
Thus one abuse is cause of many moe:
And therefore none in Iudges ought to be,
How Rulers wrong, fewe tales are tould the King:
The reason is, their power keepes in awe
Such men as haue great cause for to complayne.
If Cassandra her goodes, nay, lyfe preferd,
Before reuenge of Promos trechery:
I had not knowne, his detestable rape,
The which he forst to saue her brothers lyfe.
And furthermore, Andrugios raunsome payde,
I had not knowne he put him vnto death:
For when (good soule) she had this treason tould,
Through very shame her honour so was spoyld:
She drewe her knyfe to wound her selfe to death.
Whose pytious plyght, my hart prouockt to wrath,
At Promos wyles:
So that to vse indifferency to both,
Euen in the place where all these wronges were done:
My selfe am come, to syt vpon the cause.
But see where Promos and the Mayor waight,
To welcome mee with great solemnity:
With cheereful showe I shadowe wyll the hate,
I beare to him for his insolency:
Perhaps I may learne more of his abuse,
Whereby the more his punishment may be.
Come my Lords, to the Towne haste we apace:
All speake.
We all are prest, to wayght vpon your Grace;
Scena. 9.
Promos, Maior, three Aldermen, in red Gownes, vvith a Sworde bearer, awayghtes the Kinges comming.Promos, his briefe Oration.
Pro.
Renowned King, lo here your faithful subiects preast to show
The loyall duetie, which (in ryght) they to your highnesse owe.
Your presence, cheares all sorts of vs: yet ten times more we ioye,
You thinke vs stoarde, our warning short, for to receyue a Roye.
Our wyll, is such, as shall supplie, I trust in vs all want,
And where good wyll the welcome geues, prouision syld is scant.
Loe, this is all: yea, for vs all, that I in wordes bestowe,
Your Maiestie, our further zeale, in ready deedes shall knowe.
And first, dreade King, I render you, the swoorde of Iustice heare,
Which as your Liuetenant I trust, vprightlie I dyd beare.
The King delyuers the Sworde, to one of his Counsell.
King.
Promos, the good report, of your good gouernment I heare,
Or at the least, the good conceyte, that towards you I beare:
To incourage you the more, in Iustice to perseauer,
Is the cheefe cause, I dyd addresse, my Progresse heather.
Pro.
I thanke your Highnesse.
The Maior presentes the King, with a fayre Purse.
Ma.
Renowned King, our ready wylles to showe,
In your behalfe, our goodes (nay lyues) to spende:
In all our names, I freelie here bestowe
On your Highnes, this Purse: vnto this ende,
To possesse your most Royall Maiestie,
In all our wealth, therto bounde by duetie.
Kin.
Your great good wyls, and gyfts with thanks I take:
But keepe you styll, your goodes, to do you good.
If needes compels for your and our safety,
That you in part your proffers large performe:
And for this time as outward showes make proofe,
It is inough (and all that I desire)
That your harts and tongues (alyke) byd me welcome.
All.
Lord preserue your Maiesty.
Fiue or sixe, the one halfe men, the other vvomen, neare vnto the Musick, singing on some stage, erected from the ground: During the first parte of the song, the King faineth to talke sadlie vvith some of his Counsell.
The Kings Gentleman Vsher.
Forewards my Lordes.
They all go out leysurablie vvhile the rest of the Song is made an ende.
| The seconde part of the Famous Historie of Promos and Cassandra | |