Mar. Then, gentles, note that love hath little stay, Nor can the flames that Venus sets on fire Lam. Let pass the country wealth, as flocks and kine, And lands that wave with Ceres' golden sheaves, And more than fits a country maid's degree: Ser. Lambert, I tell thee, thou'rt importunate; Lam. Think'st thou with wealth to overreach me? Serlsby, I scorn to brook thy country braves: Ser. I'll answer, Lambert, what I have avouch'd. Margaret, farewell; another time shall serve. [Exit. Lam. I'll follow.-Peggy, farewell to thyself; Listen how well I'll answer for thy love. [Exit. Mar. How fortune tempers lucky haps with frowns, And wrongs me with the sweets of my delight! How might I post me unto Fressingfield? Mar. Your way is ready, and this path is Myself do dwell hereby in Fressingfield; Mar. [reads.] The blooms of the almond-tree grow in a night and vanish in a morn; the flies hæmeræ, fair Peggy, take life with the sun, and die with the dew; fancy that slippeth in with a gaze, goeth out with a wink; and too timely loves have ever the shortest length. I write this as thy grief and my folly who at Fressingfield loved that which time hath taught me to be but mean dainties: eyes are dissemblers, and fancy is but queasy;3 therefore know, Margaret, I have chosen a Spanish lady to be my wife, chief waiting-woman to the Princess Elinor; a lady fair, and no less fair than thyself, honourable and wealthy. In that I forsake thee, I leave thee to thine own liking; and for thy dowry I have sent thee an hundred pounds; and ever assure thee of my favour, which shall avail thee and thine much. Farewell. Not thine, nor his own, Edward Lacy. Fond Ate, doomer of bad-boding fates, To love the lady by the king's command. Mar. The wealth combin'd within the English shelves, Europe's commander, nor the English king, Should not have moved the love of Peggy from her lord. Post. What answer shall I return to my lord? Mar. First, for thou cam'st from Lacy whom I lov'd, Ah, give me leave to sigh at every thought!Take thou, my friend, the hundred pounds he sent; For Margaret's resolution craves no dower: But for thou'rt Lacy's man, once Margaret's love. Post. What I have heard, what passions I have in your hand; here's some of your master's hobgoblins abroad. seen, I'll make report of them unto the earl. Mar. Say that she joys his fancies be at rest, And prays that his misfortunes may be hers. [Exeunt. FRIAR BACON is discovered in his cell, lying on a bed, with a white stick in one hand, a book in the other, and a lamp lighted beside him; and the Brazen Head, and MILES with weapons by him. Thou know'st that I have divèd into hell, I have framed out a monstrous head of brass, 1 nos autem, &c.-literally, forsooth to glorify us, nos being a pun on nose; in another play, Greene speaks of nose glorificam, a glorious nose. 2 nos autem populare, a popular or common nose, forsooth.' 3 brown-bill-a sort of halbert, with a hooked point, formerly borne by foot soldiers and watchmen. The Brazen Head. Time is. Miles. Time is! Why, Master Brazen Head, have you such a capital nose, and answer you with syllables, 'Time is? Is this all my master's cunning, to spend seven years' study about Time is? Well, sir, it may be we shall have some better orations of it anon: well, I'll watch you as narrowly as ever you were watched, and I'll play with you as the nightingale with the slowworm; I'll set a prick against my breast. rest there, Miles. Lord have mercy upon me, I have almost killed myself! [A great noise.] Up, Miles! list how they rumble. The Brazen Head. Time was. Now Miles. Well, Friar Bacon, you have spent your seven years' study well, that can make your head speak but two words at once, 'Time was.' Yea, marry, time was when my master was a wise man; but that was before he began to make the Brazen Head. You shall lie while your arse ache, an your head speak no better. Well, I will watch, and walk up and down, and be a peripatetian, and a philosopher of Aristotle's stamp. [A great noise.] What! a fresh noise? Take thy pistols in hand, Miles. The Brazen Head. Time is past. [A lightning flashes forth, and a hand appears, that breaks down the Head with a hammer. Miles. Master, master, up! hell's broken loose; your head speaks; and there's such a thunder and lightning, that I warrant all Oxford is up in arms. Out of your bed, and take a brown-bill in your hand; the latter day is come. Bacon. Miles, I come. [Rises and comes for ward.] Oh, passing warily watch'd! Bacon will make thee next himself in love. When spake the head? Miles. When spake the head! Did not you say that he should tell strange principles of philosophy? Why, sir, it speaks but two words at a time. Bacon. Why, villain, hath it spoken oft? Miles. Oft! ay, marry, hath it, thrice; but in all those three times it hath uttered but seven words. Hell trembled at my deep-commanding spells, Miles. Why, then, sir, you forbid me your service? Bacon. My service, villain! with a fatal curse, That direful plagues and mischief fall on thee. Miles. 'Tis no matter, I am against you with the old proverb, The more the fox is cursed, the better he fares. God be with you, sir: I'll take but a book in my hand, a wide-sleeved gown on my back, and a crowned cap on my head, and see if I can want promotion. Bacon. Some fiend or ghost haunt on thy weary steps, Until they do transport thee quick to hell: [Exeunt. Enter the EMPEROR, the KING Of Castile, KinG HENRY, ELINOR, PRINCE EDWARD, LACY, and RALPH SIMNELL. Emp. Now, lovely prince, the prince of Albion's How fare the Lady Elinor and you? [wealth, What, have you courted and found Castile fit To answer England in equivalence? Will't be a match 'twixt bonny Nell and thee? P. Edw. Should Paris enter in the courts of Greece, And not lie fetter'd in fair Helen's looks? Or Phoebus 'scape those piercing amorets2 K. Hen. What, madam, hath my son found grace or no? Elin. Seeing, my lord, his lovely counterfeit,3 And hearing how his mind and shape agreed, I came not, troop'd with all this warlike train, Doubting of love, but so affectionate, As Edward hath in England what he won in Spain. K. of Cast. A match, my lord; these wantons needs must love: Men must have wives, and women will be wed: Let's haste the day to honour up the rites. Ralph. Sirrah Harry, shall Ned marry Nell? K. Hen. Ay, Ralph: how then? Ralph. Marry, Harry, follow my counsel: send for Friar Bacon to marry them, for he'll so conjure him and her with his necromancy, that they shall love together like pig and lamb whilst they live. K. of Cast. But hearest thou, Ralph, art thou content to have Elinor to thy lady? Ralph. Ay, so she will promise me two things. K. of Cast. What's that, Ralph ? Ralph. That she will never scold with Ned, nor fight with me.-Sirrah Harry, I have put her down with a thing unpossible. K. Hen. What's that, Ralph? Ralph. Why, Harry, didst thou ever see that a woman could both hold her tongue and her hands? no: but when egg-pies grow on appletrees, then will thy grey mare prove a bag-piper. Emp. What say the Lord of Castile and the Earl of Lincoln, that they are in such earnest and secret talk? K. of Cast. I stand, my lord, amazed at his talk, How be discourseth of the constancy Of one surnam'd, for beauty's excellence, K. Hen. 'Tis true, my lord, 'tis wondrous for to hear; Her beauty passing Mars's paramour, K. of Cast. What says Lord Lacy? shall she be his wife? Lacy. Or else Lord Lacy is unfit to live.May it please your highness give me leave to post To Fressingfield, I'll fetch the bonny girl, And prove, in true appearance at the court, What I have vouchèd often with my tongue. K. Hen. Lacy, go to the 'querry of my stable, And take such coursers as shall fit thy turn: Hie thee to Fressingfield, and bring home the lass; And, for her fame flies through the English coast, If it may please the Lady Elinor, One day shall match your excellence and her. Elin. We Castile ladies are not very coy; Your highness may command a greater boon: And glad were I to grace the Lincoln Earl With being partner of his marriage-day. P. Edw. Gramercy, Nell, for I do love the lord, As he that's second to myself in love. Ralph. You love her?-Madam Nell, never believe him you, though he swears he loves you. Elin. Why, Ralph? Ralph. Why, his love is like unto a tapster's glass that is broken with every touch; for he loved the fair maid of Fressingfield once out of all ho.'-Nay, Ned, never wink upon me; I care not. I. K. Hen. Ralph tells all; you shall have a good secretary of him.—' But, Lacy, haste thee post to Fressingfield; For ere thou hast fitted all things for her state, The solemn marriage-day will be at hand. Lacy. I go, my lord. [Exit. Emp. How shall we pass this day, my lord? K. Hen. To horse, my lord; the day is passing fair, We'll fly the partridge, or go rouse the deer. Follow, my lords; you shall not want for sport. [Exeunt. Enter to FRIAR BACON in his cell, FRIAR BUNGAY. Bun. What means the friar that frolick'd it of late, To sit as melancholy in his cell Bacon. Ah, Bungay, my Brazen Head is spoil'd, Bun. Bacon hath built foundation of his fame I find this day shall fall out ominous: 1 out of all ho-out of all bounds or measure; probably from the notion of calling in or restraining a sporting dog or hawk, with a call or ho, or from calling after a person to stop him.-NARES. Now, my youths, what would you have? First Schol. Sir, we are Suffolk men and neighbouring friends; Our fathers in their countries lusty squires; Their lands adjoin: in Cratfield mine doth dwell, And his in Laxfield. We are college-mates, Sworn brothers, as our fathers live as friends. Bacon. To what end is all this? Second Schol. Hearing your worship kept within your cell A glass prospective, wherein men might see Whatso their thoughts or hearts' desire could wish, We come to know how that our fathers fare. Bacon. My glass is free for every honest man. Sit down, and you shall see ere long, how Or in what state your friendly fathers live. Meanwhile, tell me your names. First Schol. Mine Lambert. Second Schol. And mine Serlsby. Bacon. Bungay, I smell there will be a tragedy. Enter LAMBERT and SERLSBY with rapiers and daggers. Lam. Serlsby, thou hast kept thine hour like a man: Thou'rt worthy of the title of a squire, And for thy mistress' favour, prize thy blood. Thou know'st what words did pass at Fressingfield, Such shameless braves as manhood cannot brook: Ay, for I scorn to bear such piercing taunts, Prepare thee, Serlsby; one of us will die. Ser. Thou seest I single thee the field,3 And what I spake, I'll maintain with my sword: Stand on thy guard, I cannot scold it out. An if thou kill me, think I have a son, That lives in Oxford in the Broadgates-hall, Who will revenge his father's blood with blood. Lam. And, Serlsby, I have there a lusty boy, That dares at weapon buckle with thy son, And lives in Broadgates too, as well as thine: But draw thy rapier, for we'll have a bout. Bacon. Now, lusty younkers, look within the glass, And tell me if you can discern your sires. First Schol. Serlsby, 'tis hard; thy father offers Ser. Then this for her. [LAMBERT and SERLSBY stab each other. Lam. Oh, I am slain! [Dies. Ser. And I,-Lord have mercy on me! [Dies. First Schol. My father slain!-Serlsby, ward that. Second Schol. And so is mine!-Lambert, I'll quite thee well. [The Two Scholars stab each other, and die. Bun. O strange stratagem! Bacon. See, friar, where the fathers both lie dead! Bacon, thy magic doth effect this massacre: Bun. What means learn'd Bacon thus to break his glass? Bacon. I tell thee, Bungay, it repents me sore Alpha, Manoth, and Tetragrammaton, Which by thy magic oft did bleed afresh, [Exeunt. Enter MARGARET in nun's apparel, the Keeper, and their Friend. Keeper. Margaret, be not so headstrong in these VOWS: Oh, bury not such beauty in a cell, Mar. Ah! father, when the harmony of heaven 1eficiat-efficient. Pride, flattery, and inconstant thoughts. Mar. Now farewell world, the engine of allwoe! Enter LACY, WARREN, and ERMSBY, booted and spurred. Lacy. Come on, my wags, we're near the Here have I oft walk'd in the watery meads, War. Sirrah Ned, is not this the Keeper? Erm. The old lecher hath gotten holy mutton' to him; a nun, my lord. Lacy. Keeper, how far'st thou? holla, man, what cheer? How doth Peggy, thy daughter and my love? See where she stands clad in her nun's attire, Lacy. Why, how now, Margaret! what! a mal- A nun? what holy father taught you this, To smother up such beauty in a cell. Mar. Lord Lacy, thinking of my former 'miss, How fond the prime of wanton years were spent In love (oh, fie upon that fond conceit, Whose hap and essence hangeth in the eye!), I leave both love and love's content at once, Betaking me to Him that is true love, And leaving all the world for love of Him. What! shorn a nun, and I have from the court And life above sweeter than life in love? Lacy. Why, then, Margaret will be shorn a nun? Hath made a vow which may not be revok'd. War. We cannot stay, my lord; an if she be so strict, Our leisure grants us not to woo afresh. Either a solemn nunnery or the court, Lacy. A good notion.-Peggy, your answer must be short. Mar. The flesh is frail: my lord doth know it well, That when he comes with his enchanting face, Off goes the habit of a maiden's heart, Lacy. Peggy, thy lord, thy love, thy husband. Erm. I pray thee, my Lord of Sussex, why art thou in a brown study? War. To see the nature of women; that be they never so near God, yet they love to die in a man's arms. Lacy. What have you fit for breakfast? We have hied And posted all this night to Fressingfield. Mar. Butter and cheese, and umbles1 of a deer, Such as poor keepers have within their lodge. Lacy. And not a bottle of wine? Mar. We'll find one for my lord. Lacy Come, Sussex, let us in: we shall have more, For she speaks least, to hold her promise sure. [Exeunt. Enter a Devil. Devil. How restless are the ghosts of hellish sprites, When every charmer with his magic spells Enter MILES in a gown and a corner-cap. Miles. A scholar, quoth you! marry, sir, I would I had been made a bottle-maker when I was made a scholar; for I can get neither to be a deacon, reader, nor schoolmaster, no, not the clerk of a parish. Some call me dunce; another saith, my head is as full of Latin as an egg's full of oatmeal: thus I am tormented, that the devil and Friar Bacon haunt me.-Good Lord, here's one of my master's devils! I'll go speak to him. -What, Master Plutus, how cheer you? Dev. Dost thou know me? Miles. Know you, sir! why, are not you one of my master's devils, that were wont to come to my master, Doctor Bacon, at Brazen-nose? Dev. Yes, marry, am I. Miles. Good Lord, Master Plutus, I have seen you a thousand times at my master's, and yet I had never the manners to make you drink. But, sir, I am glad to see how conformable you are to 1 umbles-i.e. the inward parts of a deer, a hunting term; of these was umble pie made. |