Bacon. Masters,

Stand still, fear not, I'll show you but his book. [Conjures.

Per omnes deos infernales, Belcephon!1 Enter HOSTESS with a shoulder of mutton on a spit, and a Devil.

Miles. Oh, master, cease your conjuration, or you spoil all; for here's a she-devil come with a shoulder of mutton on a spit: you have marred the devil's supper; but no doubt he thinks our college fare is slender, and so hath sent you his cook with a shoulder of mutton, to make it exceed.

Hostess. Oh, where am I, or what's become of me?

Bacon. What art thou?

Hostess. Hostess at Henley, Mistress of the Bell.

Bacon. How cam'st thou here?

Hostess. As I was in the kitchen 'mongst the maids,

Spitting the meat 'gainst supper for my guess,"
A motion moved me to look forth of door:
No sooner had I pried into the yard,

But straight a whirlwind hoisted me from thence
And mounted me aloft unto the clouds.
As in a trance I thought nor feared naught,
Nor know I where nor whither I was ta'en,
Nor where I am, nor what these persons be.
Bacon. No? Know you not Master Burden?
Hostess. Oh yes, good sir, he is my daily
guest.-

What! Master Burden; 'twas but yesternight
That you and I at Henley play'd at cards.

Burd. I know not what we did. A pox of all conjuring friars!

Clem. Now, jolly friar, tell us, is this the book That Burden is so careful to look on?

Bacon. It is. But, Burden, tell me now, Think'st thou that Bacon's necromantic skill Cannot perform his head and wall of brass, When he can fetch thine hostess in such post? 3 Miles. I'll warrant you, master, if Master Burden could conjure as well as you, he would have his book every night from Henley to study on at Oxford.

Mason. Burden,

What! are you mated by this frolic friar?Look how he droops; his guilty conscience Drives him to 'bash, and makes his hostess blush. Bacon. Well, mistress, for I will not have you miss'd,

You shall to Henley to cheer up your guests
'Fore supper 'gin. Burden, bid her adieu;
Say farewell to your hostess 'fore she goes.-
Sirrah, away, and set her safe at home.
Hostess. Master Burden, when shall we see you
at Henley?

Burd. The devil take thee and Henley too.
[Exeunt Hostess and Devil.
Miles. Master, shall I make a good motion?
Bacon. What's that?

Miles. Marry, sir, now that my hostess is gone to provide supper, conjure up another spirit, and send Doctor Burden flying after.

Bacon. Thus, rulers of our academic state, You have seen the friar frame his art by proof; And as the college called Brazen-nose

1. By all the infernal deities, Belcephon!'

2 guess was often used for guests by our early writers.

3 post-speed; post-haste we now say.

mated confounded; same as mate in checkmate. 'bash-abash; i.e. to feel abashed or affronted.

So surely shall this head of brass be fram'd,
And yield forth strange and uncouth aphorisms;
And hell and Hecate shall fail the friar,
But I will circle England round with brass.
Miles. So be it et nunc et semper;1 amen.

[Exeunt. Enter MARGARET and JOAN; THOMAS, RICHARD, and other Clowns; and LACY disguised in country apparel.

Thom. By my troth, Margaret, here's a weather is able to make a man call his father 'whoreson.' If this weather hold, we shall have hay good? cheap, and butter and cheese at Harleston will bear no price.

Mar. Thomas, maids when they come to see the fair

Count not to make a cope 3 for dearth of hay:
When we have turn'd our butter to the salt,
And set our cheese safely upon the racks,
Then let our fathers prize it as they please.
We country sluts of merry Fressingfield
Come to buy needless naughts to make us fine,
And look that young men should be frank this day,
And court us with such fairings as they can.
Phoebus is blythe, and frolic looks from heaven,
As when he courted lovely Semele,
Swearing the pedlars shall have empty packs,
If that fair weather may make chapmen buy.
Lacy. But, lovely Peggy, Semele is dead,
And therefore Phoebus from his palace pries,
And, seeing such a sweet and seemly saint,
Shows all his glories for to court yourself.

Mar. This is a fairing, gentle sir, indeed,
To soothe me up with such smooth flattery;
But learn of me, your scoff's too broad before.-
Well, Joan, our beauties must abide their jests;
We serve the turn in jolly Fressingfield.
Joan. Margaret,

A farmer's daughter for a farmer's son:
I warrant you, the meanest of us both
Shall have a mate to lead us from the church.

[All this while LACY whispers MARGARET

in the ear.

But, Thomas, what's the news? what! in a dump? Give me your hand, we are near a pedlar's shop; Out with your purse, we must have fairings now.

Thom. Faith, Joan, and shall: I'll bestow a fairing on you; and then we will to the tavern, and snap off a pint of wine or two.

Mar. Whence are you, sir?-of Suffolk? for your terins

Are finer than the common sort of men.

Lacy. Faith, lovely girl, I am of Beccles by, Your neighbour, not above six miles from hence, A farmer's son, that never was so quaint But that he could do courtesy to such dames. But trust me, Margaret, I am sent in charge From him that revell'd in your father's house, And fill'd his lodge with cheer and venison, "Tirèd in green: he sent you this rich purse, His token that he help'd you run your cheese, And in the milkhouse chatted with yourself. Mar. To me? You forget yourself. Lacy. Women are often weak in memory. Mar. Oh, pardon, sir, I call to mind the man: "Twere little manners to refuse his gift, And yet I hope he sends it not for love; For we have little leisure to debate of that.

Joan. What! Margaret, blush not: maids must have their loves.

Thom. Nay, by the mass, she looks pale as if she were angry.

Rich. Sirral, are you of Beccles? I pray, how doth goodman Cob? My father bought a horse of him.-I'll tell you, Margaret, 'a' were good to be a gentleman's jade; for of all things the foul hilding could not abide a dung-cart.

Mar. [aside.] How different is this farmer from the rest,

3

That erst as yet have pleas'd my wandering sight!
His words are witty, quicken'd with a smile,
His courtesy gentle, smelling of the court;
Facile and debonair in all his deeds;
Proportion'd as was Paris, when in grey
He courted Enon in the vale by Troy.
Great lords have come and pleaded for my love:
Who but the Keeper's lass of Fressingfield?
And yet methinks this farmer's jolly son
Passeth the proudest that hath pleas'd mine eye.
But, Peg, disclose not that thou art in love,
And show as yet no sign of love to him,
Although thou well wouldst wish him for thy
love:

Keep that to thee till time doth serve thy turn,
To show the grief wherein thy heart doth burn.—
Come, Joan and Thomas, shall we to the fair?—
You, Beccles man, will not forsake us now?
Lacy. Not whilst I may have such quaint 5
girls as you.
[field,

Mar. Well, if you chance to come by FressingMake but a step into the Keeper's lodge, And such poor fare as woodmen can afford, Butter and cheese, cream and fat venison, You shall have store, and welcome therewithal. Lacy. Gramercies, Peggy; look for me ere long. [Exeunt.

Enter KING HENRY THE THIRD, the EMPEROR, the
KING OF CASTILE, ELINOR, and VANDERMAST.
K. Hen. Great men of Europe, monarchs of the
west,

Ring'd with the walls of old Oceanus,
Whose lofty surges like the battlements
That compass'd high-built Babel in with towers,
Welcome, my lords, welcome, brave western kings,
To England's shore, whose promontory-cleeves
Show Albion is another little world;
Welcome says English Henry to you all;
Chiefly unto the lovely Elinor,

Who dar'd for Edward's sake cut through the seas,
And venture as Agenor's damsel through the deep,
To get the love of Henry's wanton son.

K. of Cast. England's rich monarch, brave
Plantagenet,

The Pyren Mounts swelling above the clouds,
That ward the wealthy Castile in with walls,
Could not detain the beauteous Elinor;
But hearing of the fame of Edward's youth,
She dar'd to brook Neptunus' haughty pride,
And bide the brunt of froward Eolus:
Then may fair England welcome her the more.

l'a-he.

2 hilding-a base, menial wretch, a term of contempt often used by old writers; possibly from hinderling, a provincial word signifying degenerate, or from AngloSaxon, hyldan, to bend.

3 erst generally means formerly, but is here equivalent to ere, or hitherto.

4 grey was the phrase for a homely shepherd's garb,' equivalent to the Scotch homespun "hodden grey.' -Rev. J. MITFORD.

5 quaint, which, according to some, comes from old Fr. coint, pretty, affable, Lat. comptus, trimmed, here means, trim, neat.

6 Gramercies, from Fr. grande merci, means, many thanks, much obliged.

This, perhaps, should be surge is.

8 promontory-cleeves-See note 2, p. 79, 1st col.

Elin. After that English Henry by his lords Had sent Prince Edward's lovely counterfeit,' A present to the Castile Elinor, The comely portrait of so brave a man, The virtuous fame discoursèd of his deeds, Edward's courageous resolution, Done at the Holy Land 'fore Damas' walls, Led both mine eye and thoughts in equal links, To like so of the English monarch's son, That I attempted perils for his sake.

Emp. Where is the prince, my lord?

K. Hen. He posted down, not long since, from the court,

To Suffolk side, to merry Framlingham,
To sport himself amongst my fallow deer:
From thence, by packets sent to Hampton House,
We hear the prince is ridden, with his lords,
To Oxford, in the académy there

To hear dispute amongst the learned men.
But we will send forth letters for my son,
To will him come from Oxford to the court.

Emp. Nay, rather, Henry, let us, as we be,
Ride for to visit Oxford with our train.
Fain would I see your universities,
And what learn'd men your académy yields.
From Hapsburg have I brought a learned clerk
To hold dispute with English orators:
This doctor, surnam'd Jacques Vandermast,
A German born, pass'd into Padua,
To Florence and to fair Bologna,

To Paris, Rheims, and stately Orleans,
And, talking there with men of art, put down
The chiefest of them all in aphorisms,
In magic, and the mathematic rules:
Now let us, Henry, try him in your schools.

K. Hen. He shall, my lord; this motion likes me well.

We'll progress straight to Oxford with our trains,
And see what men our académy brings.-
And, wonder Vandermast, welcome to me:
In Oxford shalt thou find a jolly friar,
Call'd Friar Bacon, England's only flower:
Set him but nonplus in his magic spells,
And make him yield in mathematic rules,
And for thy glory I will bind thy brows,
Not with a poet's garland made of bays,
But with a coronet of choicest gold.
Whilst then we set to Oxford with our troops,
Let's in and banquet in our English court.

[Exeunt.

Enter RALPH SINNELL in PRINCE EDWARD'S apparel; and PRINCE EDWARD, WARREN, and ERMSBY, disguised.

Ralph. Where be these vagabond knaves, that they attend no better on their master?

P. Edw. If it please your honour, we are all ready at an inch.

Ralph. Sirrah Ned, I'll have no more posthorse to ride on: I'll have another fetch.s

Erms. I pray you, how is that, my lord? Ralph. Marry, sir, I'll send to the Isle of Ely for four or five dozen of geese, and I'll have them tied six and six together with whip-cord: now upon their backs will I have a fair field-bed with a canopy; and so, when it is my pleasure, I'll flee into what place I please. This will be easy. War. Your honour hath said well: but shall we to Brazen-nose College before we pull off our boots?

Erms. Warren, well motion'd; we will to the friar

Before we revel it within the town.

1 counterfeit-portrait.

2 Whilst, &c.-Until we set out. 3 fetch-stratagem or contrivance.

Ralph, see you keep your countenance like a prince.

Ralph. Wherefore have I such a company of cutting knaves to wait upon me, but to keep and defend my countenance against all mine enemies? Have you not good swords and bucklers? Erms. Stay, who comes here?

War. Some scholar; and we'll ask him where Friar Bacon is.

Enter FRIAR BACON and MILES.

Bacon. Why, thou arrant dunce, shall I never make thee a good scholar? Doth not all the town cry out and say, Friar Bacon's subsizer is the greatest blockhead in all Oxford? Why, thou canst not speak one word of true Latin.

Miles. No, sir? yet, what is this else? Ego sum tuus homo, 'I am your man:' I warrant you, sir, as good Tully's phrase as any is in Oxford. Bacon. Come on, sirrah; what part of speech is Ego?

Miles. Ego, that is 'I;' marry, nomen substantivo.2
Bacon. How prove you that?

Miles. Why, sir, let him prove himself an a3 will, I can be heard, felt, and understood. Bacon. O gross dunce!

[Beats him. P. Edw. Come, let us break off this dispute between these two.-Sirrah, where is Brazennose College?

Miles. Not far from Coppersmith's Hall.
P. Edw. What! dost thou mock me?
Miles. Not I, sir; but what would you at
Brazen-nose?

Erms. Marry, we would speak with Friar Bacon.
Miles. Whose men be you?

Erms. Marry, scholar, here's our master. Ralph. Sirrah, I am the master of these good fellows; mayst thou not know me to be a lord by my reparrel? *

Miles. Then here's good game for the hawk; for here's the master-fool and a covey of coxcombs. One wise man, think, would spring you

all.

P. Edw. Gog's wounds! Warren, kill him. War. Why, Ned, I think the devil be in my sheath; I cannot get out my dagger.

Erms. Nor I mine. Swones, Ned, I think I am bewitched.

Miles. A company of scabs!" the proudest of you all draw your weapon, if he can.-[Aside.] See how boldly I speak, now my master is by. P. Edu. I strive in vain; but if my sword be shut

And conjur'd fast by magic in my sheath,
Villain, here is my fist.

[Strikes MILES a box on the ear. Miles. Oh, I beseech you conjure his hands too, that he may not lift his arms to his head, for he is light-fingered!

Ralph. Ned, strike him; I'll warrant thee by mine honour.

Bacon. What! means the English prince to Wrong my man?

P. Edw. To whom speak'st thou?
Bacon. To thee.

P. Edw. Who art thou?

Bacon. Could you not judge when all your swords grew fast,

That Friar Bacon was not far from hence? Edward, King Henry's son and Prince of Wales,

Thy fool disguis'd cannot conceal thyself:
I know both Ermsby and the Sussex Earl,
Else Friar Bacon had but little skill.
Thou com'st in post from merry Fressingfield,
Fast-fancied to the Keeper's Lonny lass,
To crave some succour of the jolly friar:
And Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, hast thou left
To treat fair Margaret to allow thy loves;
But friends are men, and love can baffle lords;
The earl both woos and courts her for himself.
War. Ned, this is strange; the friar knoweth all.
Erms. Apollo could not utter more than this.
P. Edw. I stand amaz'd to hear this jolly friar
Tell even the very secrets of my thoughts.-
But, learnèd Bacon, since thou know'st the cause
Why I did post so fast from Fressingfield,
Help, friar, at a pinch, that I may have
The love of lovely Margaret to myself,
And, as I am true Prince of Wales, I'll give
Living and lands to strength thy college-state.3
War. Good friar, help the prince in this.
Ralph. Why, servant Ned, will not the friar do
it? Were not my sword glued to my scabbard
by conjuration, I would cut off his head, and
make him do it by force.

Miles. In faith, my lord, your manhood and your sword is all alike; they are so fast conjured that we shall never see them.

Erms. What! doctor, in a dump! tush, help the prince,

And thou shalt see how liberal he will prove. Bacon. Crave not such actions greater dumps

than these?

I will, my lord, strain out my magic spells;
For this day comes the earl to Fressingfield,
And 'fore that night shuts in the day with dark,
They'll be betrothed each to other fast.
But come with me; we'll to my study straight,
And in a glass prospective I will show
What's done this day in merry Fressingfield.
P. Edw. Gramercies, Bacon; I will quite thy pain.
Bacon. But send your train, my lord, into the

town:

My scholar shall go bring them to their inn;
Meanwhile we'll see the knavery of the earl.
P. Edw. Warren, leave me:-and, Ermsby,
take the fool;

Let him be master, and go revel it,
Till I and Friar Bacon talk awhile.

War. We will, my lord.

Ralph. Faith, Ned, and I'll lord it out till thou comest. I'll be Prince of Wales over all the black-pots in Oxford.

[Exeunt WARREN, ERMSBY, RALPH SIMNELL, and MILES.

FRIAR BACON and PRINCE EDWARD go into the study.

Bacon. Now, frolic Edward, welcome to my cell;

Here tempers Friar Bacon many toys,
And holds this place his consistory-court,
Wherein the devils plead homage to his words.
Within this glass prospective thou shalt see
This day what's done in merry Fressingfield
"Twixt lovely Peggy and the Lincoln Earl.
P. Edw. Friar, thou glad'st me: now shall
Edward try

How Lacy meaneth to his sovereign lord.
Bacon. Stand there and look directly in the
glass.

1 Fast-fancied-held fast by fancy. 2 treat-entreat.

3 thy college-state-probably means the state of thy college.

Afrolic-gay, merry; Ger. fröhlich-gay, joyful.

Mar. But tell me, Friar Bungay, is it true?
That this fair courteous country swain,
Who says his father is a farmer nigh,
Can be Lord Lacy, Earl of Lincolnshire?

Bun. Peggy, 'tis true, 'tis Lacy for my life,
Or else mine art and cunning both do fail,
Left by Prince Edward to procure his loves;
For he in green, that holp you run your cheese,
Is son to Henry, and the Prince of Wales.

Mar. Be what he will, his lure is but for lust:
But did Lord Lacy like poor Margaret,
Or would he deign to wed a country lass,
Friar, I would his humble handmaid be,
And for great wealth quite him with courtesy.
Bun. Why, Margaret, dost thou love him?
Mar. His personage, like the pride of vaunting
Troy,

Might well avouch to shadow Helen's rape:"
His wit is quick and ready in conceit,

As Greece afforded in her chiefest prime:
Courteous, ah friar, full of pleasing smiles!
Trust me, I love too much to tell thee more;
Suffice to me he's England's paramour.

Bun. Hath not each eye that view'd thy pleasing face

Surnamèd thee Fair Maid of Fressingfield?

Mar. Yes, Bungay; and would God the lovely earl

Had that in esse that so many sought.

Bun. Fear not, the friar will not be behind To show his cunning to entangle love.

P. Edw. I think the friar courts the bonny wench:

Bacon, methinks he is a lusty churl.
Bacon. Now look, my lord.

Enter LACY disguised as before.

P. Edw. Gog's wounds, Bacon, here comes Lacy!

Bacon. Sit still, my lord, and mark the comedy. Bun. Here's Lacy, Margaret; step aside awhile. [Retires with MARGARET.

Lacy. Daphne, the damsel that caught Phoebus fast,

And lock'd him in the brightness of her looks,
Was not so beauteous in Apollo's eyes
As is fair Margaret to the Lincoln Earl.
Recant thee, Lacy, thou art put in trust:
Edward, thy sovereign's son, hath chosen thee,
A secret friend, to court her for himself,
And dar'st thou wrong thy prince with treachery?
Lacy, love makes no exception of a friend,
Nor deems it of a prince but as a man.
Honour bids thee control him in his lust;
His wooing is not for to wed the girl,
But to entrap her and beguile the lass.
Lacy, thou lov'st, then brook not such abuse,
But wed her, and abide thy prince's frown;
For better die than see her life disgrac'd.

Mar. Come, friar, I will shake him from his dumps.[Comes forward. How cheer you, sir? a penny for your thought. You're early up, pray God it be the near.1 What! come from Beccles in a morn so soon?

Lacy. Thus watchful are such men as live in love,

Whose eyes brook broken slumbers for their sleep.

I tell thee, Peggy, since last Harleston fair
My mind hath felt a heap of passions.

Mar. A trusty man, that court it for your
friend:

Woo you still for the courtier all in green?
I marvel that he sues not for himself.
Lacy. Peggy,

I pleaded first to get your grace' for him;
But when mine eyes survey'd your beauteous
looks,

Love, like a wag, straight div'd into my heart,
And there did shrine the idea of yourself.
Pity me, though I be a farmer's son,

And measure not my riches, but my love.

Mar. You are very hasty, for to garden well, Seeds must have time to sprout before they spring.

Love ought to creep as doth the dial's shade,
For timely ripe is rotten too-too soon.

Bun. Deus hic;3 room for a merry friar!
What! youth of Beccles, with the Keeper's lass?
'Tis well; but tell me, hear you any news?
Mar. No, friar; what news?

Bun. Hear you not how the pursuivants do post

With proclamations through each country-town?
Lacy. For what, gentle friar? Tell the news.
Bun. Dwell'st thou in Beccles, and hear'st not
of these news?

Lacy, the Earl of Lincoln is late fled
From Windsor court, disguised like a swain,
And lurks about the country here unknown.
Henry suspects him of some treachery,

And therefore doth proclaim in every way,
That who can take the Lincoln Earl shall have,
Paid in the exchequer twenty thousand crowns.
Lacy. The Earl of Lincoln! Friar, thou art
mad:

It was some other; thou mistak'st the man.
The Earl of Lincoln! why, it cannot be.

Mar. Yes, very well, my lord, for you are he:
The Keeper's daughter took you prisoner.
Lord Lacy, yield, I'll be your gaoler once.

P. Edw. How familiar they be, Bacon! Bacon. Sit still, and mark the sequel of their loves.

Lacy. Then am I double prisoner to thyself. Peggy, I yield. But are these news in jest?

Mar. In jest with you, but earnest unto me; For why these wrongs do wring me at the heart.

Ah, how these earls and noblemen of birth
Flatter and feign to forge poor women's ill!
Lacy. Believe me, lass, I am the Lincoln Earl:
I not deny, but, 'tirèd thus in rags,

I liv'd disguis'd to win fair Peggy's love.
Mar. What love is there where wedding ends
not love?

Lacy. I meant, fair girl, to make thee Lacy's wife.

Mar. I little think that earls will stoop so low.

Lacy. Say shall I make thee countess ere I sleep?

Mar. Handmaid unto the earl, so please himself:

A wife in name, but servant in obedience.

Lacy. The Lincoln Countess, for it shall be so. I'll plight the bands, and seal it with a kiss. P. Edw. Gog's wounds, Bacon, they kiss! I'll stab them.

Bacon. Oh, hold your hands, my lord, it is the glass!

P. Edw. Choler to see the traitors gree so well Made me [to] think the shadows substances.

Bacon. Twere a long poniard, my lord, to

reach between

Mar. What likes my lord is pleasing unto me. Bun. Then hand-fast hand, and I will to my book.

Bacon. What sees my lord now?

P. Edw. Bacon, I see the lovers hand in hand, The friar ready with his portace there To wed them both: then am I quite undone. Bacon, help now, if e'er thy magic serv'd; Help, Bacon; stop the marriage now, If devils or necromancy may suffice, And I will give thee forty thousand crowns. Bacon. Fear not, my lord, I'll stop the jolly friar For mumbling up his orisons this day. Lacy. Why speak'st not, Bungay? Friar, to thy book.

[Bungay is mute, crying 'Hud, hud.' Mar. How look'st thou, friar, as a man distraught?

Reft of thy senses, Bungay? show by signs,
If thou be dumb, what passion holdeth thee.
Lacy. He's dumb indeed. Bacon hath with
his devils

Enchanted him, or else some strange disease
Or apoplexy hath possess'd his lungs:
But, Peggy, what he cannot with his book,
We'll 'twixt us both unite it up in heart.

Mar. Else let me die, my lord, a miscreant.
P. Edw. Why stands Friar Bungay so amaz'd?
Bacon. I have struck him dumb, my lord;
and, if your honour please,

I'll fetch this Bungay straightway from Fressingfield,

And he shall dine with us in Oxford here.

P. Edw. Bacon, do that, and thou contentest me. Lacy. Of courtesy, Margaret, let us lead the

friar

Unto thy father's lodge, to comfort him With broths, to bring him from this hapless trance.

Mar. Or else, my lord, we were passing unkind To leave the friar so in his distress.

Enter a Devil, who carries off BUNGAY on his back.
Oh, help, my lord! a devil, a devil, my lord!
Look how he carries Bungay on his back!
Let's hence, for Bacon's spirits be abroad.
[Exit with LACY.

1 portace, also portasse, portesse, porthose, etc.-portalle prayer-book or breviary.

P. Edw. Bacon, I laugh to see the jolly friar Mounted upon the devil, and how the earl Flees with his bonny lass for fear. As soon as Bungay is at Brazen-nose, And I have chatted with the merry friar, I will in post hie me to Fressingfield, And 'quite these wrongs on Lacy ere't be long. Bacon. So be it, my lord: but let us to our dinner;

For ere we have taken our repast awhile, We shall have Bungay brought to Brazen-nose. [Exeunt.

Enter BURDEN, MASON, and CLEMENT. Mason. Now that we are gather'd in the Regent house,

It fits us talk about the king's repair,
For he, troopèd with all the western kings,
That lie alongst the Dantzic seas by east,
North by the clime of frosty Germany,
The Almain monarch, and the Saxon' duke,
Castile and lovely Elinor with him,

Have in their jests resolv'd for Oxford town.

Burd. We must lay plots of stately tragedies, Strange comic shows, such as proud Roscius Vaunted before the Roman emperors.

Clem. To welcome all the western potentates. But more; the king by letters hath foretold That Frederick, the Almain emperor, Hath brought with him a German of esteem, Whose surname is Don Jaques Vandermast, Skilful in magic and those secret arts.

Mason. Then must we all make suit unto the friar,

To Friar Bacon, that he vouch3 this task,
And undertake to countervail in skill
The German; else there's none in Oxford can
Match and dispute with learned Vandermast.

Burd. Bacon, if he will hold the German play, Will teach him what an English friar can do: The devil, I think, dare not dispute with him. Clem. Indeed, Mas doctor, he [dis]pleasur'd

you,

In that he brought your hostess with her spit, From Henley, posting unto Brazen-nose.

Burd. A vengeance on the friar for his pains! But leaving that, let's hie to Bacon straight, To see if he will take this task in hand.

Clem. Stay, what rumour is this? The town is up in a mutiny: what hurly-burly is this? Enter a Constable, with RALPH SIMNELL, WARREN, ERMSBY, all three disguised as before, and MILES.

Cons. Nay, masters, if you were ne'er so good, you shall before the doctors to answer your misdemeanour.

Burd. What's the matter, fellow?

Cons. Marry, sir, here's a company of rufflers,5 that, drinking in the tavern, have made a great brawl, and almost killed the vintner. Miles. Salve, Doctor Burden! This lubberly lurden,'

1 Saxon.

6

'Scocon' is the common reading.

2 jests or gests. In the time of the royal progresses, the king's stages, as we may see by the journals of them in the herald's office, were called his gests, from the old Fr. word giste, diversorium.'-NARES. It may possibly, however, mean here merely doings, from Lat. gero, gestum, to do.

3 vouch-to maintain, undertake; literally, to call upon, to defend.

Mas-probably an abbreviation for Master.

5 ruffler-a disturber, a lawless violent person. 6Hail.'

7 lurden or lourden-a heavy, lumpish, lazy fellow; Fr. lourd, heavy, dull.