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Mar. Then, gentles, note that love hath little stay,

Nor can the flames that Venus sets on fire
Be kindled but by fancy's motion:
Then pardon, gentles, if a maid's reply
Be doubtful, while? I have debated with myself,
Who, or of whom, love shall constrain me like.
Ser. Let it be me; and trust me, Margaret,
The meads environ'd with the silver streams,
Whose battling 3 pastures fatten all my flocks,
Yielding forth fleeces stapled with such wool
As Lemnster cannot yield more finer stuff,
And forty kine with fair and burnish'd heads,
With strouting' dugs that paggles to the ground,
Shall serve thy dairy if thou wed with me.

Lam. Let pass the country wealth, as flocks and kine,

And lands that wave with Ceres' golden sheaves,
Filling my barns with plenty of the fields;
But, Peggy, if thou wed thyself to me,
Thou shalt have garments of embroidered silk,
Lawns and rich networks for thy head attire:
Costly shall be thy fair habiliments,
If thou wilt be but Lambert's loving wife.
Mar. Content you, gentles, you have proffer'd
fair,

And more than fits a country maid's degree:
But give me leave to counsel me a time,
For fancy blooms not at the first assault;
Give me but ten days' respite, and I will reply,
Which or to whom myself affectionates.

Ser. Lambert, I tell thee, thou'rt importunate;
Such beauty fits not such a base esquire:
It is for Serlsby to have Margaret.

Lam. Think'st thou with wealth to overreach me?

Serlsby, I scorn to brook thy country braves:
I dare thee, coward, to maintain this wrong,
At dint of rapier, single in the field.

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!
Love is my bliss, and love is now my bale.
Shall I be Helen in my froward fates,
As I am Helen in my matchless hue,
And set rich Suffolk with my face afire?
If lovely Lacy were but with his Peggy,
The cloudy darkness of his bitter frown
Would check the pride of these aspiring squires.
Before the term of ten days be expir'd,
Whenas they look for answer of their loves,
My lord will come to merry Fressingfield,
And end their fancies and their follies both:
Till when, Peggy, be blithe and of good cheer.
Enter a Post with a letter and a bag of gold.
Post. Fair lovely damsel, which way leads this
path?

How might I post me unto Fressingfield?
Which footpath leadeth to the Keeper's lodge?

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Mar. Your way is ready, and this path is
right:

Myself do dwell hereby in Fressingfield;
And if the Keeper be the man you seek,
I am his daughter: may I know the cause?
Post. Lovely, and once beloved of my lord,-
No marvel if his eye were lodg'd so low,
When brighter beauty is not in the heavens,—
The Lincoln Earl hath sent you letters here,
And, with them, just an hundred pounds in
gold.
[Gives letter and bag.
Sweet, bonny wench, read them, and make reply.
Mar. The scrolls that Jove sent Danaë,
Wrapt in rich closures of fine burnish'd gold,
Were not more welcome than these lines to me.
Tell me, whilst that I do unrip the seals,
Lives Lacy well? how fares my lovely lord?
Post. Well, if that wealth may make men to
live well.

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,
That wrapp'st proud fortune in thy snaky locks,
Didst thou enchant my birthday with such stars
As lighten'd mischief from their infancy?
If heavens had vow'd, if stars had made decree,
To show on me their froward influence,
If Lacy had but lov'd, heavens, hell, and all,
Could not have wrong'd the patience of my mind.
Post. It grieves me damsel; but the earl is
forc'd

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:
The world shall be to her as vanity;
Wealth, trash; love, hate; pleasure, despair:
For I will straight to stately Framlingham,
And in the abbey there be shorn a nun,
And yield my loves and liberty to God.'"
Fellow, I give thee this, not for the news,
For those be hateful unto Margaret,

But for thou'rt Lacy's man, once Margaret's love.

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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.

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Thou know'st that I have divèd into hell,
And sought the darkest palaces of fiends;
That with my magic spells great Belcephon
Hath left his lodge and kneelèd at my cell;
The rafters of the earth rent from the poles,
And three-formed Luna hid her silver looks,
Trembling upon her concave continent,
When Bacon read upon his magic book.
With seven years' tossing necromantic charms,
Poring upon dark Hecat's principles,

I have framed out a monstrous head of brass,
That by the enchanting forces of the devil,
Shall tell out strange and uncouth aphorisms,
And girt fair England with a wall of brass.
Bungay and I have watch'd these threescore days,
And now our vital spirits crave some rest;
If Argus liv'd and had his hundred eyes,
They could not over-watch Phobetor's night.
Now, Miles, in thee rests Friar Bacon's weal;
The honour and renown of all his life
Hangs in the watching of this Brazen Head;
Therefore I charge thee by the immortal God,
That holds the souls of men within his fist,
This night thou watch; for ere the morning-star
Sends out his glorious glister on the north,
The head will speak: then, Miles, upon thy life,
Wake me; for then by magic art I'll work
To end my seven years' task with excellence.
If that a wink but shut thy watchful eye,
Then farewell Bacon's glory and his fame!
Draw close the curtains, Miles: now, for thy life,
Be watchful, and-
[Falls asleep.
Miles. So! I thought you would talk yourself
asleep anon; and 'tis no marvel, for Bungay on
the days, and he on the nights, have watched
just these ten and fifty days. Now this is the
night, and 'tis my task, and no more. Now,
Jesus, bless me, what a goodly head it is! and a
nose! you talk of nos autem glorificare; but
here's a nose that I warrant may be called nos
autem populare," for the people of the parish.
Well, I am furnished with weapons: now, sir, I
will set me down by a post, and make it as good
as a watchman to wake me, if I chance to slum-
ber. I thought, Goodman Head, I would call
you out of your memento. Passion o' God, I
have almost broke my pate! [A great noise.]
Up, Miles, to your task; take your brown-bills

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.

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Hell trembled at my deep-commanding spells,
Fiends frown'd to see a man their over-match;
Bacon might boast more than a man might boast.
But now the braves' of Bacon have an end,
Europe's conceit of Bacon hath an end,
His seven years' practice sorteth to ill end:
And, villain, sith my glory hath an end,
I will appoint thee fatal to some end.
Villain, avoid! get thee from Bacon's sight!
Vagrant, go roam and range about the world,
And perish as a vagabond on earth!

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:
For Bacon shall have never merry day,
To lose the fame and honour of his head.

[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
That Daphne glanced at his deity?
Can Edward, then, sit by a flame and freeze,
Whose heat puts Helen and fair Daphne down?
Now, monarchs, ask the lady if we gree.

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

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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,
The Fair Maid of merry Fressingfield.

K. Hen. 'Tis true, my lord, 'tis wondrous for to hear;

Her beauty passing Mars's paramour,
Her virgin's right as rich as Vesta's was.
Lacy and Ned have told me miracles.

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
As if he had neither lost nor won to-day?

Bacon. Ah, Bungay, my Brazen Head is spoil'd,
My glory gone, my seven years' study lost!
The fame of Bacon, bruited through the world,
Shall end and perish with this deep disgrace.

Bun. Bacon hath built foundation of his fame
So surely on the wings of true report,
With acting strange and uncouth miracles,
As this cannot infringe what he deserves.
Bacon. Bungay, sit down, for by prospective
skill

I find this day shall fall out ominous:
Some deadly act shall 'tide me ere I sleep;
But what and wherein, little can I guess.

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.

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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,
That durst, for proof of thy affection

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

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Ser. Then this for her.
First Schol. Ah, well thrust!
Second Schol. But mark the ward.

[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:
This glass prospective worketh many woes;
And therefore seeing these brave lusty Brutes,
These friendly youths, did perish by thine art,
End all thy magic and thine art at once.
The poniard that did end the fatal lives,
Shall break the cause efficiat' of their woes.
So fade the glass, and end with it the shows
That necromancy did infuse the crystal with.
[Breaks the glass.

Bun. What means learn'd Bacon thus to break his glass?

Bacon. I tell thee, Bungay, it repents me sore
That ever Bacon meddled in this art.
The hours I have spent in pyromantic spells,
The fearful tossing in the latest night,
Of papers full of necromantic charms,
Conjuring and adjuring devils and fiends,
With stole and alb and strange pentageron;
The wresting of the holy name of God,
As Sother, Eloim, and Adonai,

Alpha, Manoth, and Tetragrammaton,
With praying to the fivefold powers of heaven,
Are instances that Bacon must be damn'd
For using devils to countervail his God.-
Yet, Bacon, cheer thee, drown not in despair:
Sins have their salves, repentance can do much :
Think Mercy sits where Justice holds her seat,
And from those wounds those bloody Jews did
pierce,

Which by thy magic oft did bleed afresh,
From thence for thee the dew of mercy drops,
To wash the wrath of high Jehovah's ire,
And make thee as a new-born babe from sin.-
Bungay, I'll spend the remnant of my life
In pure devotion, praying to my God
That He would save what Bacon vainly lost.

[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,
That England hath held famous for the hue!
Thy father's hair, like to the silver blooms
That beautify the shrubs of Africa,
Shall fall before the dated time of death,
Thus to forego his lovely Margaret.

Mar. Ah! father, when the harmony of heaven
Soundeth the measures of a lively faith,
The vain illusions of this flattering world
Seem odious to the thoughts of Margaret.
I loved once,-Lord Lacy was my love;
And now I hate myself for that I lov'd,
And doted more on him than on my God,-
For this I scourge myself with sharp repents.
But now the touch of such aspiring sins
Tells me all love is lust but love of heaven;
That beauty used for love is vanity:
The world contains naught but alluring baits,

1eficiat-efficient.

Pride, flattery, and inconstant thoughts.
To shun the pricks of death I leave the world,
And vow to meditate on heavenly bliss,
To live in Framlingham a holy nun,
Holy and pure in conscience and in deed;
And for to wish all maids to learn of me
To seek heaven's joy before earth's vanity.
Friend. And will you, then, Margaret, be shorn
a nun, and so leave us all?

Mar. Now farewell world, the engine of allwoe!
Farewell to friends and father! Welcome Christ!
Adieu to dainty robes! this base attire
Better befits an humble mind to God
Than all the show of rich habiliments.
Love, O love! and, with fond love, farewell
Sweet Lacy, whom I lovèd once so dear!
Ever be well, but never in my thoughts,
Lest I offend to think on Lacy's love:
But even to that, as to the rest, farewell!

Enter LACY, WARREN, and ERMSBY, booted and spurred.

Lacy. Come on, my wags, we're near the
Keeper's lodge.

Here have I oft walk'd in the watery meads,
And chatted with my lovely Margaret.

War. Sirrah Ned, is not this the Keeper?
Lacy. 'Tis the same.

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?
Keeper. Ah, good my lord! Oh, woe is me for
Peggy!

See where she stands clad in her nun's attire,
Ready for to be shorn in Framlingham:
She leaves the world because she left your love.
Oh, good my lord, persuade her if you can!

Lacy. Why, how now, Margaret! what! a mal-
content?

A nun? what holy father taught you this,
To task yourself to such a tedious life
As die a maid? 'twere injury to me,

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.
Lacy. Whence, Peggy, comes this metamor-
phosis?

What! shorn a nun, and I have from the court
Posted with coursers to convey thee hence
To Windsor, where our marriage shall be kept!
Thy wedding-robes are in the tailor's hands.
Come, Peggy, leave these peremptory vows.
Mar. Did not my lord resign his interest,
And make divorce 'twixt Margaret and him?
Lacy. 'Twas but to try sweet Peggy's constancy.
But will fair Margaret leave her love and lord?
Mar. Is not heaven's joy before earth's fading
bliss,

And life above sweeter than life in love?

Lacy. Why, then, Margaret will be shorn a nun?
Mar. Margaret

Hath made a vow which may not be revok'd. War. We cannot stay, my lord; an if she be so strict,

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Our leisure grants us not to woo afresh.
Erms. Choose you, fair damsel, yet the choice
is yours,-

Either a solemn nunnery or the court,
God or Lord Lacy: which contents you best,
To be a nun, or else Lord Lacy's wife?.

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,
Whate'er betide, I cannot say him nay.

Off goes the habit of a maiden's heart,
And, seeing fortune will, fair Framlingham,
And all the show of holy nuns farewell!
Lacy for me, if he will be my lord.

Lacy. Peggy, thy lord, thy love, thy husband.
Trust me, by truth of knighthood, that the king
Stays for to marry matchless Elinor,
Until I bring thee richly to the court,
That one day may both marry her and thee.-
How say's thou, Keeper? art thou glad of this?
Keep. As if the English king had given
The park and deer of Fressingfield to me.

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
Calls us from ninefold-trenched Phlegethon,
To scud and over-scour the earth in post
Upon the speedy wings of swiftest winds!
Now Bacon hath raised me from the darkest deep,
To search about the world for Miles his man,
For Miles, and to torment his lazy bones
For careless watching of his Brazen Head.
See where he comes: Oh, he is mine.

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.

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