UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 OLD ENGLlox. x'LAlS; 
 
 BBING A 
 
 SELECTION 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 EARLY DRAMATIC WRITERS. 
 
 VOLUME I. 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. I MOTHER BOMBIE. 
 
 lust's dominion. MroAS. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED BY WHITTINGHAM AND ROWLAND, 
 
 ' y ^ , OmoeU street; 
 
 FOR JOHN MARTIN, HOLLES STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE, 
 BOOKSELLER TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS OF WALES. 
 
 1814.
 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 The Tragical History "bf the Life and Death of Doc- 
 tor Faustus ; by Christopher Marlowe .... 1 
 
 Lust's Dominion ; or, the Lascivious Queen : a Tra- 
 gedy, by Christopher Marlowe 93 
 
 A Pleasant conceited Comedy ; called Mother Bom- 
 bie ; by John Lyly 203 
 
 Midas : a Comedy ; by Ditto 287 

 
 There are few things that would tend more im- 
 mediately to repress our vanity, and to gratify 
 our curiosity at the same time, than an attentive 
 examination of the fluctuation of opinion, in re- 
 gard to the respective literary rank of authors. 
 To contemi)late the feverish elevation that super- 
 ficial and obtrusive ignorance has sometimes 
 risen to, as opposed to the cold and bitter neg- 
 lect that has more frequently chilled the labours 
 of retiring genius: to see the same man, per- 
 haps, 
 
 Who having sometime, like young Phaeton, 
 Rid in the burnish'd chariot of the Sun, 
 
 outliving his popularity, and in his own time 
 forgotten^ to see posterity, to whom we so fre- 
 quently and foolishly appeal, as one that 
 
 . truly renders 
 
 To each man his desert 
 
 stripping the tombs of the dead of their well- 
 earned chaplets, to place them on the brow of 
 some unworthy minion of its own : to see these 
 things, is a sufficient evidence of the instability 
 of popular favour, to embitter the successful mo- 
 ments of ambition, and dash the cup of hope 
 from the lip of less fortunate merit. Such feel- 
 ings are naturally awakened on presenting these 
 
 VOL. I. b
 
 VI 
 
 dramas to the public, selected as they have been 
 from authors who delighted and enlightened the 
 ages in which they wrote, but who were for 
 nearly two centuries after forgotten ; whose works, 
 indeed, have been preserved to us, rather as curi- 
 osities, the possession of which tended to gratify 
 the humble pride of their possessor, than as relics 
 of high and inestimable value. 
 
 This is not the place for, neither would the 
 Editor have been justified in any where indulg- 
 ing in, an extended critical examination of the 
 works in this collection. He has sometimes ven- 
 tured, it is true, to throw out an opinion as they 
 passed under his notice ; but he wishes it to be 
 imderstood as only expressive of his own feeling, 
 and not as an attempt to direct the judgment of 
 his reader. There is no doubt a great inequality 
 in the different writers; and indeed in their se- 
 veral works; they are certainly inferior to what 
 the public might have expected from the con- 
 temporaries of Shakspeare, if it were not remem- 
 bered that Shakspeare was a prodigy in his own 
 time, as well as in ours : neither has the Editor, 
 in his most sanguine moments, presumed to place 
 them on a level with the work^ of Beaumont and 
 Fletcher, or Jonson, or Massinger; but he be- 
 lieves it will be conceded to him, that they have 
 many excellencies ii* common with those great 
 men ; the same peculiarities in their language, 
 tlieir manner of thinking, and their moral feel- 
 ing ; in brief, that they are of the same school,
 
 Til 
 
 the first and greatest of English dramatic litera- 
 ture. 
 
 It has been said of these writers by Dr. 
 Johnson, that they " are sought after because 
 they are scarce, and would not have been scarce 
 had they been much esteemed'^' but in this it must 
 be presumed, that he rather sought to dazzle the 
 reader with the point and brilliancy of the sen- 
 tence, than to force conviction on the understand- 
 ing by its truth: it presupposes (what it would 
 be monstrous to allow) that public opinion is 
 always right, and always consistent; and he 
 must have forgotten that a period had existed 
 in which the assertion might have been urged 
 with comparative force against the immortal poet, 
 with whose works he was at that moment about 
 to present the public ; for Shakspeare was surely 
 little read when the story of Catherine and Pe- 
 truchio could be told as a family occurrence in 
 Lincolnshire. It may be admitted, however, 
 that, in a very limited sense, and when no extra- 
 ordinary circumstances intervene to give a bias 
 to public opinion, limitations that almost make 
 the admission nugatory, it is founded on truth-: 
 but it cannot in justice be urged against men, 
 who only sunk in a revolution of opinion with 
 which the mighty genius of Shakspeare could 
 with difficulty contend, under a stupid fanati- 
 cism which prohibited the representation of their 
 works by fine and imprisonment. If it be asked 
 why, if the neglect were unmerited, was it con- 
 
 !) 2
 
 t^uued on the revival of the drama ? The qiies- 
 laon will be found on examination to be infinitely 
 more specious thaji just. In a great body of the 
 people, the puritanical principles, in which ori- 
 ginated the severe ordinances of the usurpation, 
 ijtill existed in their full force, presenting an in- 
 surmountable objection to the countenancing of 
 theatrical exhibitions : the players therefore be- 
 came, in a mi^ch greater degree than usual, de- 
 pendant on the protection of the great ; and what 
 congeniality could be expected between the un- 
 controulable wildness and unaffected simplicity 
 of these old writers, their simple portraitures of 
 nature, and passion ; and the taste of a monarch 
 and a court accustomed to the^regular and in- 
 flated drama of the French school, with its un- 
 natural and unimpassioned beings ? And, Avithout 
 withholding a sincere tribute of admiration justly 
 due to many of the writers of Charles the Se- 
 cond's reign, it will scarcely be denied that 
 they became of necessity the caterers to a dis- 
 eased and unwholesome appetite. The gloomy 
 bigotry of the interregnum stopped the course of 
 dramatic literature ; but the Restoration did 
 what was infinitely worse, it poisoned the " pure 
 well-head of poetry ;" and from that period we 
 have gradually descended to out present de- 
 graded and disgraceful level *. 
 
 * Milton was intimately read in, and formed himself on the 
 model of the old school ; he was in consequence unsuited to the
 
 IX 
 
 The Editor has thus ventured to show, and 
 he trusts though briefly not unsatisfactorily, that 
 Dr. Johnson's assertion is equally fallacious and 
 unjust; and that the oblivion to which the drama 
 of that age was consigned was altogether inde- 
 pendent of its intrinsic worth. It would be much 
 more gratifying, and is infinitely more deserviilg 
 consideration, could we ascertain by what co- 
 operating circumstances it was enabled to spring, 
 as it were without gradation, from the helpless-* 
 ness and immaturity of infancy, into the beauty 
 and vigour of manhood: and, whether the wreath 
 be adjudged to the sun -like genius of Shaks- 
 peare individually, or some leaves of it distri- 
 buted among the galaxy that illuminates the 
 age*, the splendour in which it is admitted to 
 
 taste of his age, and was neglected, Cowley justly appreciated 
 it, but the age corrupted him. 
 
 * The brevity so essentially necessary here precludes the 
 possibility of entering fully on any subject ; but the Editor can^ 
 not but think, that what was observed of Shakspeare, "he found 
 not but created first the stage," might with more truth have 
 been extended to include some of his contemporaries; and that 
 it should not be altogether forgotten that Marlowe, who pre- 
 ceded him, had made some rapid advances to greater perfection. 
 A foreign critic of great excellence observes, " in Marlowe's 
 * Edward the Second,' I certainly imagine that I can discover the 
 feebler model of the earliest historical pieces of Shakspeare." 
 And tlie " Edward the Second" was probably the only play of 
 Marlowe's he had ever seen, as it is the only one reprinted in 
 Reed ; and he confesses to have obtained his knowledge of 
 Chapman and Heywood only from that collection. It will not 
 be denied that the inequality always discoverable in the writings 
 of that age, is still more conspicuous in this author, and perhaps
 
 have at once burst through the gloom of ages, is 
 equally deserving attention, and as naturally ex- 
 cites speculative inquiry. 
 
 But the drama of that age is not only deserv- 
 ing consideration for its superiority over every 
 other of our own country, but particularly so as a 
 7iatio7ial and original drama, regulated by its own 
 lawSy and of course only to be estimated by tliem : 
 for, as it has of late been justly observed, " There 
 is no monopoly of poetry for certain ages and na- 
 tions; and consequently that despotism in taste, 
 by which it is attempted to make those rules uni- 
 
 most so in his " Faustus," where the buffoonery and stupid hu- 
 mour of the second-rate characters are constantly intruding on 
 our notice. He has, however, some redeeming scenes of great 
 and undivided interest : and the fury and madness of despair, as 
 depicted in the last scene of that play, is not perhaps exceeded 
 in the language. It may recal to the recollection of the classical 
 reader the situation of Orestes in the early part of Euripides s 
 play of that name. In Orestes, it is true, there is a professed 
 dereliction of reason : but the feelings of Faustus are so tremen- 
 dously excited, so awfully intense, and have so absolutely mas- 
 tered reason, that, if he be declared within, he borders on, the 
 bounds of sanity. The Dutchess in Webster's " Dutchess of 
 Malfy," and Calantha, in the " Broken Heart" of Ford, are 
 both subjected to the tortures of the mind, and are lasting evi- 
 dences of the abilities of their respective authors ; but in them 
 the agony is concealed, and arises in a degree from the conceal- 
 ment : Faustus was not strong enough in truth for this ; and 
 the circumstances under which he is represented, of themselves 
 so dreadfully awaken sensibility, that if the reader suffers himself 
 to be borne along by the poet it becomes feariul to look on. 
 The situation of Alphonson, in Act IV. Scene IV. of " A Wife 
 for a Month," is extraordinarily fine, but, as the representation of 
 the mere sufferings of the body, cannot be compared with it.
 
 XI 
 
 versal which were at first perhaps arbitrarily esta- 
 blished, is a pretension which ought never to be al- 
 lowed." It has been asserted, and the Editor 
 believes justly, notwithstanding the distance of 
 time by which it preceded it, that we are indebted 
 for this glorious distinction, with which no nation, 
 Greece and perhaps Spain excepted, can contend 
 with us, to the Reformation. In the chivalrous 
 ages, that preceded that eventful period, literary 
 honours, and, indeed, literature itself, seem to 
 have been held, as by prescriptive right, by 
 the higher classes of society and the members of 
 the religious houses; but at that great revolu- 
 tion of opinion the barriers were broken down, 
 and all classes of society burst into the arena to 
 contend without distinction. The translation of 
 the Bible only, independently of the advantages 
 derived by religion and pure morality, was of 
 great and essential advantage; it opened to all 
 the purest springs of knowledge, and wisdom, and 
 poetry ; and the dramatic writers of that age avail- 
 ed themselves of the advantages it held out : it 
 must be evident to every man conversant in their 
 writings, that it was their constant and undeviat- 
 ing study ; it was " familiar to them as household 
 words :" what wonder is it then, that contain- 
 ing, as it does, " the noblest poems that ever 
 were w rote in the world *," they should catch 
 
 * Seward's Preface to Beaumont and Fletcher. See also the 
 fifty-first and fifty-seveuth papers in " The Adventurer."
 
 Xll 
 
 " 9ome of the sacred fire," some of that noble 
 daring and enthusiasm that every where ani- 
 mate and enlighten the works of their inspired 
 masters? The Reformation therefore ploughed 
 and cleared the surface of an almost uncultivated 
 soil, spreading the seeds of instruction, that in 
 the reign of Elizabeth and James burst forth 
 into a rich and luxuriant harvest. Not that other 
 influences are not discoverable. The Reformation, 
 as to the purposes of poetry, would not perhaps 
 have been attended with such consequences had 
 it occurred at any other period : the age was sin- 
 gularly fitted for the full display of poetic ge- 
 nius : criticism was not then strong enough to 
 wield its leaden mace ; there then existed no 
 established tribunals at which the poet might 
 fear to be arraigned ; there were then no ac- 
 knowledged standards of excellence to which 
 enthusiasm w^as to tame down its excursive 
 spirit; the feeling and the sensibility of the poet 
 alone regulated its cgurse : superstition with 
 " its flocking shadows pale," that vanish into 
 * thin air," before the grey tints that harbinger 
 the morning of philosophical inquiry, was yet 
 sufficiently embodied for the purposes of poetry; 
 and it has justly been observed that " the Shak- 
 speare of a more instructed and polished age, 
 would not have given us a magician darkening 
 the sun at noon, the sabbath of the witches, and 
 the caldron of incantation." 
 While the dramatic writers of other nations, nio-
 
 . xni 
 
 delling themselves on excellence that had received 
 the applauding* testimony of ages, sunk into cold 
 formality, tricked up in stately diction and wordy 
 sentiment, the vigorous and unrestrained genius 
 of our own, opened a rich and unexplored mine ill 
 the depths of human passion and human feeling: 
 the heart was the subject of their examination, 
 "^nd its strange and inward workings the ma- 
 chinery which they delighted to employ:" they 
 removed the tilm that obscures our nature, arid 
 penetrated at once into the secret recesses of 
 the bosom :thus intimate with the springs of 
 action, they never laboured to depict the pro- 
 gress of the passion ; they struck at once thfe 
 chord which vibrated to the heart, and left th^ 
 rest to imagination and feeling. They were phi- 
 losophers, too, and that of the highest ordef: 
 philosophy was with them what Milton de- 
 scribes it, '^ 
 
 Musical as" is Apollo's lute : 
 
 0- 
 
 and their language, in every pause in the action, 
 or ill its progress, where the character, or where 
 circumstances would admit, abounded with the 
 sweetest and most delicious poetry : for its bold- 
 ^sjji^hts, . j,^, ^, 
 
 ' This visible nature, and this comiAoii world, '; 
 
 Were all too narrow: 
 
 But when they entered the quiet scenes of do- 
 mestic life, they found sympathies in every bo- 
 som. But on this subject the editor could write
 
 XIV 
 
 on till he had wearied the patience of his less 
 enthusiastic reader: he will only therefore re- 
 mark, that his observations are strictly con- 
 fined to the dramatic writers : the works of 
 the most natural and impassioned of their poets, 
 using the word in its more limited sense, are but 
 too frequently disfigured by a strange hetero- 
 geneous mass of chivalrous fancy, and classical 
 aflfectation. Neither will it be denied that the 
 drama of that age has its defects: on the contrary, 
 the Editor admits that the reader will not un- 
 frequently discover scenes tliat might have been 
 wrought up with more skill, and plots that might 
 have been disentangled with less perplexity : in- 
 cidents in themselves unimportant, sometimes 
 brought prominently forward ; but still more 
 frequently important incidents slurred over with- 
 out their proper force, particularly in the con- 
 cluding scenes: he will be sometimes fatigued, 
 and sometimes disgusted, with their attempts 
 at humour : but it should be remembered, in 
 favour of the writers, that the great body of 
 the people, the middle classes, where is now 
 perhaps the greatest portion of information, were 
 then, in point of intellect, but triflingly removed 
 from the most ignorant ; that the frequenters of 
 the theatre were not of the most respectable 
 classes, and that the manners of the age itself 
 were gross and offensive. 
 
 Other objections, which the Editor would not 
 so readily admit, but which the usual limits of a
 
 XV 
 
 preface, render it impossible for him more than 
 to advert to, have been urged against the general 
 perusal of such dramas as are here brought for- 
 ward. Their grossness, as it is termed, has per- 
 haps given the greatest and best founded cause of 
 offeuce: but on this the Editor maybe allowed to 
 remark, that though the indelicacy of many parti- 
 cular passages can neither be overlooked nor ex- 
 cused, yet the general tendency of these dramas 
 is (with very few exceptions) to the side of virtue 
 and morality: and it may safely be asserted, that 
 a few such characters as are to be found in the 
 plays of Killegrew, Etherege, Wycherly, Van- 
 burgh, Congreve, &c. are calculated to do more 
 mischief than all the licentious passages in all 
 the English plays before the death of Charles 
 the First. There is a nervous an vnishrinking 
 honesty about these old writers, that may cer- 
 tainly offend the over-delicate and morbid sen- 
 sibility of people accustomed only to the tame- 
 ness of modern life and language, but it no more 
 resembles the tricked-up licentiousness and pu- 
 ling immorality of some modern authors, read 
 without scruple, " than the nakedness of an In- 
 dian does that of a common prostitute." And 
 what, after all, has this levelling of language done 
 for us? The notorious old vices, it is true, are 
 less frequently heard of, because the vulgarity of 
 such terms secures " an affair of honour," or an 
 " affair of gallantry,'" the murder of a friend, 
 or the seduction of his wife, from being de-
 
 XVI 
 
 nounced in the wholesome language of the 
 decalogue; but it may well deserve considera- 
 tion, how far society in general has been bene- 
 fitted by thus destroying the distinctions of vice 
 and virtue? how far the mask changes the nature 
 of the deformity? and what portion of the sin 
 of transgression is shaken oft' with the name ? 
 Adultery, (the most prevalent vice of the times, 
 and one in which we have made a very hopeful 
 progress), forms the subject of several of our an- 
 tient dramas; and to the reader it may safely be 
 left to determine whether such representations 
 of this offence as are to be found in the *' Wo- 
 man kill'd with Kindness," *' the English Tra- 
 veller" of Heywood, and the " Mad World, my 
 Masters," of Middleton, or the reports of many 
 modern trials (where the professed object is the 
 detection and punishment of the offender) af- 
 ford the strongest moral warnings. As to the 
 indecency of many particular passages, (though it 
 is a charge of which neither Massinger, Fletcher, 
 Jonson, nor Shakspeare can be acquitted), it can 
 only be regretted that the age admitted such li- 
 cense, and no man does so more sincerely than 
 the Editor. 
 
 The present publication having now been ex- 
 tended as far as was originally proposed, the 
 Editor is induced to make some observations 
 upon the circumstances under which it was com- 
 menced ; the disadvantages under which he has 
 laboured in its progress; and which may, he
 
 XVI 1 
 
 trusts, (as a first attempt) entitle him to the in- 
 dulgence of his readers. 
 
 It has been observed, that " the lapse of five 
 and thirty years of research and industry unpa- 
 ralleled, has raised the qua^lifications, whilst it 
 has smoothed the labours of the Editor of a 
 vv'ork like this;" but it may be remarked, that 
 this is true only in part; it cannot, for example, 
 fairly be applied (to the extent which is here 
 laid down) to the present publication. In con- 
 sequence of the lapse of time, and of the vigi- 
 lant research and laudable industry which is 
 mentioned, the copies of our ancient plays, which 
 were formerly (comparatively at least) cheap and 
 common, are now no longer to be met with, or, 
 must be purchased at a rate which few are in^ 
 clined, and fewer can afford, to pay. Theobald, 
 it is well known, had a collection of nearly three 
 hundred of the ancient quartos ; and from his 
 pecuniary circumstances, it is not probable that 
 they were collected at any considerable expense. 
 What would be the cost of a similar collection 
 now, must be left to the determination of those 
 who have attempted to form one, though some 
 conjecture may be formed from the prices affixed 
 to them in catalogues. The task of explaining 
 the works of our ancient dramatists is unques-. 
 tionably become much easier, but a considerable 
 proportion of the works themselves has almost 
 entirely disappeared, or is become inaccessible 
 to common purchasers : the diificulty, therefore^
 
 XVlll 
 
 of settling the text by comparing; the different 
 copies is much increased. The Editor has not 
 been able to meet with more than one copy of 
 several of the plays which are now reprinted: it 
 is more than probable, therefore, that conjecture 
 has been sometimes hazarded when certainty 
 might have been adduced from an examination 
 of more editions, or even more copies of the 
 same edition. This scarcity of the ancient quartos, 
 so much felt and complained of, was what the 
 Editor of the present selection proposed in part 
 to supply, and remedy. His first intention 
 ^as to confine himself (almost exclusively) to 
 the republication of some scarce and valuable 
 plays. He trusted he might be able to amend 
 the punctuation, and to correct some of the more 
 gross and obvious errors in the printed copies ; 
 but, in general, he proposed to adhere very 
 closely to the text : and, though no person can 
 be more sensible than himself of the superiority 
 of Mr. Reed's edition, yet the^r*^, and not the 
 second edition, of Dodsley's Collection of old 
 Plays, was the example which he originally pro- 
 posed to follow. AVith this intention, the work 
 was announced to the Public; but the Editor 
 was soon convinced, in preparing it for the 
 press, that much more than he had proposed was 
 highly desirable, if not 7iccessary ; and he was 
 in consequence induced, soon after the com- 
 mencement of the publication, to deviate con- 
 siderably from his first plan, and to insert a
 
 XIX 
 
 much greater number of notes than he originally 
 intended. He hopes that the effect of this alte- 
 ration, though it has certainly been attended with 
 greater trouble to himself, and greater expense 
 to the publisher, has been advantageous to the 
 publication, and generally acceptable to his 
 readers ; and that his endeavours to correct and 
 explain the text,, to amend the measure, and to 
 supply such marginal directions as seemed ne- 
 cessary, will be approved : but he dare not flatter 
 himself so far as to suppose that on this point 
 there may not be much difference of opinion : 
 it is unfortunate for an Editor, so inexperienced 
 as himself, that notwithstanding all that has been 
 said upon the subject, the " Canons of Criticism" 
 still remain unsettled ; and that whilst some 
 would reject or alter without scruple, whatever 
 spoils the measure, or seems to obscure the sense,' 
 as an interpolation or corruption, others regard 
 the slightest alteration (if unsanctioned by some 
 ancient copy) as an unwarrantable tampering 
 with the text. 
 
 " Incidit in Scyllam, cupiens vitare Charybdim." 
 
 The Editor will only say, he has endeavoured to 
 steer between the two as well as his little skill 
 enabled him : and the only favour which he ven- 
 tures to solicit from his more experienced read- 
 ers, is, that they would carefully compare any 
 play of the present collection on which they wish 
 to form an opinion, with the copy from which it
 
 XX 
 
 was reprinted, and he will then readily submit 
 to their decision. If, after all, the reader shall 
 meet with more errors than are usually disco- 
 verahle even in the fallible field of editorial cri- 
 ticism, he will perhaps have the goodness to 
 remember, that a work of less pretensions never 
 issued from the press : if the Editor has some- 
 times no other retreat from his oversights and 
 errors than through his reader's kindness, it may 
 be remembered in his favour, that it is a cour- 
 tesy he has invariably extended to others; which 
 is by no means the necessary consequence of 
 inexperience or insufficiency. 
 
 The Editor is perfectly aware, that notwith- 
 standing the deaths of Steevens, Malone, Reed, 
 and several others, by whom Shakspeare has 
 been so ably elucidated, there are yet several 
 living critics who have fully proved that they are 
 beyond comparison better qualified for an under- 
 taking of this kind than he can pretend to be ; 
 and, if he had supposed it probable, that one in 
 any degree to be compared to the learned and ac- 
 curate Editor of Massinger, the acute and judi- 
 cious defender of Ben Jonson, or the illustrator 
 of Shakspeare, could have been prevailed upon to 
 undertake a publication of this nature, or even 
 if the ancient quartos could have been procured 
 at any moderate price, the present work would not 
 have been begun. But it is to be recollected, that 
 seventy years have elapsed since the first appear- 
 ance of Dodsley's Collection ; and though some-
 
 thing has been done in the interval, by Hawkins 
 and some others, yet the vacnuoi in this species 
 of English literature, is yet very imperfectly 
 filled up. By the work which is now presented 
 to the Public, the Editor trusts he has contri- 
 buted something towards the gratification of the 
 admirers of our ancient drama; and it will give 
 him much pleasure to see the plan pursued and 
 completed to their satisfaction by abler hands. 
 
 Of the Selection itself, he only wishes to ob- 
 serve, that if all the ancient stores of this kind 
 had been laid open to him, and he (with 
 sufficient leisure to peruse them) at liberty 
 to make his choice, the selection would have 
 been better; but though the Editor might claim 
 the merit of having read with some attention a 
 considerable number of these dramas, yet his 
 reading of this kind is by no means so extensive 
 as he could wish, nor was his time so much at 
 his own disposal as to permit him to make this 
 the principal object of his attention, though 
 it has constituted much of the amusement of his 
 leisure hours. He trusts that few of the Plays 
 which are now republished will be deemed un- 
 worthy of preservation, and he was particularly 
 desirous not to include any which are strikingly 
 offensive against decorum, nor any which his 
 readers in general could be supposed to possess 
 before. 
 
 When the plan was first arranged, he certainly 
 meant to include plays from several writers, 
 
 VOL I. C
 
 XXll 
 
 which he afterwardw judged it right to decline, 
 that he might neither lay a tax upon his readers, 
 nor knowingly interfere with the plans of any 
 other person. Several of Shirley's plays would 
 unquestionably have been the particular objects 
 of his choice ; but he is happy to sec that the 
 whole have been formally announced for repub- 
 lication : and he has also collected from a source 
 which he can depend on, that a gentleman who 
 is possessed of a complete copy of Brome's 
 works, has made some progress in preparing 
 them for the press, though he has not the least 
 expectation of being a pecuniary gainer by the 
 work. Some plays, however, of Chapman, Mar- 
 ston, Middleton, &c. which the Editor reluct- 
 antly passed over, with those of Mayne, Cart- 
 wright, and Randolph, &c. would have supplied 
 him with very eligible materials for a few vo- 
 lumes in addition to those now published, and he 
 has reason to believe that the principal assistance 
 which he has hitherto received would have been 
 continued. He was not disinclined to a further 
 extension of the work, with such alterations in the 
 plan as seemed calculated for its improvement; but 
 as it has been generally reported, that the public 
 will soon be gratified with an improved and con- 
 siderably enlarged edition of Dodsley's ancient 
 plays, by a gentleman fully qualified to do jus- 
 tice to the work; and as (in that event) Cart- 
 wright and Randolph, who were the professed 
 imitators of Jonson, may reasonably be supposed
 
 XXIU 
 
 to attract his particular attention, the Editor 
 rests satisfied with having performed his engage- 
 ment, as well as the circumstances under which 
 it has been executed, enabled him, and suspends^ 
 at least, the execution of his further purposes, 
 till he is able to form a more correct idea than 
 he can do at present, whether any continua- 
 tion of the present publication (by him) be wanted 
 in itself, or likely to be acceptable to the public. 
 And now, before he finally takes his leave, he 
 may be permitted to make, as is customary, a 
 public acknowledgment of such politeness and 
 assistance as he has received. To Mr. Hasle- 
 wood he is indebted for sone information re- 
 specting the prefixture to the octavo edition 
 of Marston's plays; to Mr. Jones, the editor 
 of the Biograph. Dram, for his general polite 
 attentions ; and to Mr. John Kemble for his 
 great kindness in the offer of any of the works 
 in his valuable collection. After the Editor's 
 complaints of the difficulty of procuring the 
 earlier editions, it may be asked why he did 
 not avail himself of this liberality ? He will ho- 
 nestly confess that as he did not choose to subject 
 himself to the unpleasantness of solicitation ge- 
 nerally, and did not find collectors very anxious 
 to anticipate his wants; he felt that it would have 
 been inflicting a heavy penalty on great and sin- 
 gular politeness. The assistance he has yet ac- 
 knowledged has been trifling ; it were well per- 
 haps for his credit as an editor if he had now
 
 XXIV 
 
 done : but to the labours of a friend, whose name 
 he is not permitted to make public, the work is 
 infinitely more indebted than to his own. By 
 the i>ersevering exertions of this gentleman, in a 
 cause in which he had no natural interest, and a 
 more intimate knowledge of the dramatic writers 
 of that age than the Editor pretends to possess, 
 the publication has been much improved; and 
 be would have declined the name altogether, if 
 he had not conceived it his duty to avow his 
 own responsibility for the execution. The na- 
 ture of his plan would not permit him to delay 
 the publication, and from some other local cir- 
 cumstances he was obliged singly to superintend 
 it. He was permitted to exercise an uncon- 
 trolled liberty of approving or rejecting what- 
 ever was suggested by his friend, but he had not 
 always sufficient time for consideration or en- 
 quiry. How much the publication might have 
 been improved if circumstances had rendered it 
 practicable for him fully to arrange the text and the 
 annotation in concert with this gentleman before 
 it was sent to the press, no person can estimate 
 so fully as the Editor. For the errors of the 
 work he conceives himself to be solely respon- 
 sible : the extent of his obligations he acknow- 
 ledges with much pleasure : and to this friend, if 
 his private acknowledgments had not been more 
 acceptable, the publication should have been in- 
 8cribed.
 
 THE 
 
 TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 life ann eatfj 
 
 or 
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 
 
 BY 
 
 CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE*. 
 
 1 HERE is no account extant," says the Biographia 
 Dramatica, " of this author's family ;" indeed we are ig- 
 norant of the time and place of his birth : all I learn from 
 the MS. notes of Mr. Oldys' t, a very diligent enquirer, 
 is, that he was born about the former part of Edward 
 the Sixth's reign. It is, however, certain that he was of 
 Bennet College, Cambridge; where he took the degree 
 of B. A. 1583, and M. A. 1387 5 afterwards, leaving the 
 university, 'he became an actor and writer for tlie stage. 
 Of his line of character or his merit in the former, we 
 have no account ; in the latter, he gained a very high re- 
 putation among his contemporaries, and maintained it 
 with the poets of the succeeding age. Robert Green, in 
 his Groatsworth of Witte bought with a Million of Repent- 
 ance, addresses him, " thou famous gracer of tragedians ;" 
 on which Mr. Malone observes, that Marlowe was " the 
 most famous and admired poet of that age, previous to 
 the appearance of Shakspeare." In Francis More's se- 
 cond part of Wits Common WalkX, he is ranked with a 
 bevy of first-rate genius, " who mightily enriched, and 
 gorgeously invested, in rare ornaments and resplendent 
 habilements, the English tongue." Heywood, in his pro- 
 logue to the revival of The Jezo of 3Ialta%, styles him 
 " the best of poets." Ben Jonson mentions " Mar- 
 lowe's mighty line;" and Michael Drayton, the cele- 
 brated author of the Polyolbion, speaks of him with great 
 admiration. These are but a few evidences of the high 
 
 * " A kind of second Shakspeare, says Philips." Theatrum Poe^ 
 tarum Anglicanorum. 
 t On Langbaine, in the British Museum. 
 t ]VIS. notes, ut supra. 
 Edit. 1633. 
 
 b2
 
 4 CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. 
 
 opinion entertained of him, in that meridian of dramatic 
 literature. 
 
 Of his unfortunate death we have the following ac- 
 count in Wood's Athence Oxonienses. That being in love 
 with a young girl of low condition, he suspected her 
 of showing a partiality for a man who had more the 
 appearance of a pimp, " than an ingenious y\moreth, as 
 Mario conceived himself to be :" and one day finding 
 them together, he rushed upon the man with his drawn 
 dagger, with intent to kill him ; but he being an active 
 fellow, not only warded off the blow, but so directed the 
 point, that it entered the head of its master, who shortly 
 after died of the wound : this event took place before the 
 year 1393. This, says our authority, many considered a 
 judgment on him for his impieties : for, he was " an epi- 
 cure and an atheist," and wrote several discourses against 
 revealed religion. It is not pleasant to assist in esta, 
 blishing a charge of this nature ; but in a work before 
 referred to, where the author, certainly a most abandoned 
 character, is repenting of his follies, Marlowe is thus ad- 
 dressed : " Wonder not that Green, who hath said with 
 thee like the fool in his heart, there is no God, should 
 now give glory unto his greatness," and Mr. Lamb, by 
 the following note, seems to think traces of this feeling 
 are discoverable in his writings. " Marlowe is said to 
 have been tainted with atheistical positions, to have de- 
 nied God and the Trinity. To such a genius the history 
 of Faustus must have been delectable food ; to wander 
 in fields where curiosity is forbidden to go, to approach 
 the dark gulf near enough to look in, to be busied in spe- 
 culations which are the rottenest part of the core of the 
 fruit that fell from the Tree of Knowledge. Barrabas the 
 Jew, and Faustus the Conjurer, are offsprings of a mind 
 which at least delighted to dally with interdicted sub- 
 jects." Dr. Warton, however, thinks the character of 
 Marlowe was blackened by " the prejudiced and peevish 
 puritans," and I cannot refuse myself the pleasure of 
 inserting here, the observations of the editor of the 
 Biographia Dramatica. ". This character, if just, is 
 such a one, as should induce us to look back with con-
 
 CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. O 
 
 tempt and pitj on the memory of the person who pos- 
 sessed it, and recal to our mind the inimitable sentiment 
 of the great and good Dr. Young, in his Complaint ; 
 
 When I behold a genius bfirht and base, 
 Of tow'ring talents, and terrestrial aims ; 
 Mcthinks I see, as thrown from her high sphere, 
 The glorious fragments of a soul immortal, 
 With rubbish mix'd, and glitt'ring in the dust. 
 
 " We would, however, rather wish to take this cha- 
 racter with some degree of abatement, and allowing that 
 Mr. Marlowe might be inclinable to free-thinking, yet 
 that he could not run to the unhappy lengths he is re- 
 ported to have done, especially as the time he lived in 
 was a period of bigotry ; and that, even in these calmer 
 times of controversy, we find a great aptness in persons, 
 who differ in opinion with regard to the speculative 
 points of religion, either wilfully or from the mistaking 
 of terms, to tax each other with deism, heresy, and even 
 atheism, on even the most trivial tenets, which have the 
 least appearance of being unorthodox." And I may add, 
 that from the Apology of Chettle, who edited Green's 
 work, before mentioned, Mr. Malone supposes Marlowe 
 to have taken offence at that publication. 
 
 Martowe may be said to have attached himself entirely 
 to tragedy ; The Maiden's Holiday being the only ex- 
 ception. I^ as a dramatic poet, he will not bear compa- 
 rison with some of the writers, whose works have lately 
 been submitted to the public, it should be remembered 
 that he preceded the new era which Shakspeare's produc- 
 tions may be supposed to have produced ; yet, if justice 
 be fairly dealt out to him, and a comparison made be- 
 tween himself and the writers of his own time, I am con- 
 fident he will be found to claim a veiy proud superiority. 
 Of his Edward the Second Mr. Lamb observes, " the re- 
 luctant pangs of abdicating royalty in Edward furnished 
 hints which Shakspeare scarce improved in his Richard 
 the Second; and the death scene of Marlowe's king moves 
 pity and terror beyond any scene ancient or modern with 
 which I am acquainted."
 
 6 CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. 
 
 He translated Colothus's Rape of Helen*, and The Ele- 
 gies of Ovid; the latter, printed at Middleburgh without 
 date, " was ordered to be burnt at Stationers' Hall, in 
 1599, by command of the Archbishop of Canterbury, and 
 the Bishop of London." 
 
 At his death the poem of Hero and Leander was 
 found incomplete. It was afterwards finished, says Wood, 
 by Chapman, and published in 1606+ : but a continuation 
 of it, a mere translation from the Italian, dedicated to 
 Sir H. Guildford, had appeared as early as 1598, by 
 Henry Petowe. 
 
 Perhaps, the generality of persons are not aware, that 
 the celebrated and still popular poem of The passionate 
 Shepherd to his Love, beginning, 
 
 Cpme live with me, and be my love, 
 
 is the production of this author :|:. 
 
 In compliance with the received opinion, Tamberlaine 
 the Great is introduced into the following list of Mar- 
 lowe's dramatic works ; indeed, if internal evidence be 
 refused, we have not any sufficiently strong to warrant 
 its rejection ; although a very, inferior production, un- 
 worthy the genius to whom it is ascribed : but it should 
 be mentioned that Langbaine thinks it questionable ; 
 and Mr. Oldys observes, " it bas been suspected that 
 the great character given the author by his contempo- 
 raries, drew impositions of works upon him that he never 
 t2)rofe ||." Impossible as such a thing may now appear, it 
 was by no means uncommon in those days, and some- 
 times practised during the author's life-time. 
 
 I should hardly be justified if I did not mention that 
 Mr. Malone, perhaps the first authority on these occa- 
 
 Dr. Warton, from Coxeter's MSS. 
 
 t " I learn from Mr. Malone that Marlowe finished only the two 
 first sestiads, and about one hundred lines of the third." Warton's 
 Uistorif of Poetry. 
 
 X It has been attribnted io Shakspeare ; but erroneously, as it i? 
 printed in England^s Helicon, 1600, with Mafiowe's name. 
 
 MS. notes on Langbaine. 
 
 }| Phillips has attributed it to Thomas Newton.
 
 CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. 7 
 
 sions, and other eminent critics, have supposed the first 
 Part of The Contention of the Txdo famous Houses of 
 York and Lancaster^ and The true Tragedy of Richard 
 Duke of Yorky which form, with trifling variation, two 
 Parts of King Henry the Sixth, published as Shak- 
 speare's, and Titus Andronicus, to have been written by 
 Marlowe. The latter, like his Edward the Second, 
 was performed by the Earl of Pembroke's servants, (who 
 are not known, says Mr. Malone, to have performed any 
 one of Shakspeare's undoubted dramas) ; like Faustus, 
 it abounds in scraps of Latin, and classical allusions; 
 and, like The Jew of Malta, in blood and murder. I 
 should be gratified on finding these conjectures esta- 
 blished : for though these plays have been rejected, as 
 unworthy the transcendent genius of Shakspeare, they 
 would shed a lustre round any other name. 
 
 1. Tamberlaine the Great, T. two parts, 1st 4to. 1590; 
 4to. 1605. 2nd 4to. 1590* ; 4to. 1606. 
 
 2. Edward the Second, T. 4to. 1598; 4to. 1612; 4to. 
 -1622, D. C. 
 
 S. The Massacre of Paris, T. 8vo. N. D. 
 
 Mr. Malone supposes this and 2 he Tragedy ofGuyes, 
 mentioned in a MS. of Henslowe'st, as acted 
 on January 30, 1592, to be the same play. 
 
 4. The Rich Jew of Malta, T. 4to. 1633, D.C. 
 Though not published till so long after the decease 
 
 of the author, it had been acted as early as Fe- 
 bruary 26, 1591 X- 
 
 5. Lust's Dominion; or, the Lascivious Queen, T. 
 12mo. 1657; 12mo. 1661. 
 
 * 1593, says the Biographia Dramatica ; but Egerton says 1590, 
 and he is supported by the Roxburgh Catalogue. 
 
 t P. Henslowe was proprietor of the Rose theatre, near tlie Bank- 
 side, Soulhwark : and the MS. here referred to, is an account-book 
 of his, sometime since discovered at Dulwich College. But on this, 
 and all other occasions where it is mentioned, I beg to be understood^ 
 as referring to the copy in Mr. Malone's History of the Stage. 
 
 X Henslowe, ut tupra.
 
 8 CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. 
 
 Marlowe also joined with Nash in 
 6. Dido, Queen of Carthage, 4to. 1594 *. 
 And with Day, in 
 
 7. The Maiden's Holiday, Com. N.Pf. 
 
 8. The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus, 4to. 1604; 
 4to^ 1616; 4to. 1624; 4to. 1631 ; 4Ao. 1663. 
 
 The first editions of this play are in black letter, and 
 not divided into acts. It is extremely questionable, in 
 my opinion, if in any of these it is given in a genuine 
 uncorrupt state ; for it is certain, from the following ex- 
 tract from Henslowe's MS., that it was altered previous 
 to the date of its first publication : " Lent unto the com- 
 pany, 22 Nov. 1602, to pay unto Wm. Bride and Samuel 
 Rowley, for their adi/cions in Doctor Fostes, the sum of 
 Jg4." The last edition is intolerably corrupt; the 
 whole scene at Rome is left out, and one at Constan- 
 tinople substituted, merely giving an account of the 
 means by which the Turks gained possession of Malta, 
 and copied from The Rich Jew of Malta by this author ; 
 another scene has considerable additions ; in brief, it is 
 not worth referring to. The play itself has been since 
 variously altered, and presented to the public. The scene 
 at Rhodes and Wittenberg, and a great deal of the plot, 
 is from Camerarius, Wierus, and other writers on magic ; 
 and I must not omit to mention, that Edward Alleyn, the 
 celebrated founder of Dulwich College, used to play the 
 principal character in it, as appears from the following 
 passage, in Rowland's Knave ofClubbs, 1611. 
 
 " The gull gets on a surplice, 
 
 With a crosse upon his breast ; 
 Like Allen playing Faustus, 
 
 In that manner was he drest." 
 
 This singular evidence of " the credulous ignorance" 
 which then prevailed, is by no means a favourable speci- 
 
 * " The Tragedy of Dido, Queen of Carthage, was completed and 
 published by his friend Thomas Nash, in 1394," says Dr. Warton. 
 It is a very scarce play : at Dr. Wright's sale it brought sixteen, 
 and at the Roxburgh seventeen guineas. 
 
 t It was one of those destroyed by Mr. Warburton's servant.
 
 CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. 9 
 
 men of the plajs to be submitted to the public in this 
 work ; but it was the first in chronological order, and of 
 too much consequence to be passed over altogether. 
 Whoever shall attempt to judge of it by dramatic rule, 
 will find himself baffled in every attempt, and, according 
 ' to his humour, laugh or censure : but this would be try- 
 ing a man by an ex post facto law, one that he could not 
 have foreseen, and if he had, would probably never have 
 acknowledged. The unity of time and place are set at 
 all defiance ; four and twenty years pass in its represen- 
 tation ; and the scene changes with as much facility from 
 .Wittenberg to Rome, as the board itself was changed 
 which notified it to the audience* : but for this violation 
 of an arbitrary law, the rich vein of poetry that runs 
 throughout it will amply compensate. Faustus is drawn 
 with the hand of a master ; he is a personification of the 
 weakness and worst passions of our nature : ambitious 
 of power, he regards neither the means of possessing it, 
 nor the subject of his authority : a seeker of knowledge 
 beyond the narrow limits of our understanding, he be- 
 comes lost in an intellectual chaos. M ephostophilis, and 
 the other characters, are inferior beings. 
 
 * A board, with the name of the place where the scene was laid, 
 was suspended in front of tlie old theatres. 

 
 DRAMATIS PERSON JE. 
 
 Faustus. 
 
 Mephostophilis. 
 
 The Pope. 
 
 Raymond, King of Hungary. 
 
 Bruno. 
 
 Emperor of Germany. 
 
 Duke of Saxony. 
 
 Duke and Duchess of Vanholt. 
 
 Frederick, ^ 
 
 Mertino, > three Gentlemen. 
 
 Benvolio, j 
 
 Valdes. 
 
 Cornelius. 
 
 Good Angel. 
 
 Bad Angel. 
 
 Old Man. 
 
 Three Scholars. 
 
 Seven deadly Sins. 
 
 Wagner. 
 
 Robin, the Clown. 
 
 Dick, an Hostler. 
 
 Carter. 
 
 Horse-courser. 
 
 Hostess. 
 
 Vintner. 
 
 Bishop of Rheims. 
 
 Lucifer. 
 
 Belzebub. 
 
 Cardinals, Bishops, Monks, Friars, Soldiers, Servants, Sfc. Sfc.
 
 THE 
 
 TRAGEDY 
 
 OF 
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 
 
 Enter Chorus. 
 
 Not marching in the fields of Tharsimen, 
 
 AVhere Mars did mate the warlike Carthagen ; 
 
 Nor sporting in the dalliance of love, 
 
 In courts of kings, where state is overt urn'd; 
 
 Nor in the pomp of proud audacious deeds, 
 
 Intends our muse to vaunt his heavenly verse ; 
 
 Only this, gentles, we must now perform, 
 
 The form of Faustus' fortunes, good or bad : 
 
 And now to patient judgments we appeal, 
 
 And speak for Faustus in his infancy. 
 
 Now is he born of parents base of stock. 
 
 In Germany, within a town call'd Rhodes : 
 
 At riper years to Wittenberg he went, 
 
 Whereas his kinsman chiefly brought him up. 
 
 So much he profits in divinity, ^ , 
 
 That shortly he was grac'd with Doctor's name. 
 
 Excelling all, and sweetly can dispute 
 
 In th' heavenly matters of theology : 
 
 Till swoln with cunning, and a self-conceit. 
 
 His waxen wings did mount above his reach,
 
 12 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 And melting heavens conspired his overthrow : 
 For falling to a devilish exercise, 
 And glutted now with Learning's golden gifts, 
 He surfeits on the cursed necromancy. 
 Nothing so sweet as magic is to him, 
 Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss, 
 And this the man that in his study sits. 
 
 Faustus in his study. 
 
 Faust. Settle thy studies, Faustus, and begin 
 To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess ; 
 Having commenc'd, be a Divine in show, 
 Yet level at the end of every art, 
 And live and die in Aristotle's works. 
 Sweet Analytics, 'tis thou hast ravish'd me. 
 JSene disserere est finis logices. 
 Is, to dispute well, Logic's chiefest end ? ^ % 
 Affords this art no greater miracle? 
 Then read no more; thou hast attain'd that end, 
 A greater subject fitteth Faustus' wit : , 
 
 Bid Oeconomy farewell : and Galen come. 
 Be a physician, Faustus; heap up gold, . 
 
 And be eterniz'd for some jvondrous cure : 
 Summum bonum medicincB sanitas ; 
 The end of physic is our bodies' health. 
 Why, Faustus, hast thou not attain'd that end ? 
 Are not thy bills hung up as monuments, 
 Whereby whole cities have escap'd the plague. 
 And thousand * desperate maladies been cur'd ? 
 Yet art thou still but Faustus, and a man. . , 
 Couldst thou make men to live eternally, . 
 Or, being dead, raise them to life again, 
 Then this profession were to be esteem'd. -^ ^ ' 
 
 * The edition of 1624 read " divers."
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. tft 
 
 Physic farewell. Where is Justinian? 
 Si una eademque res legatur duobuSy 
 Alter rem, alter valorem rei, &c. 
 A petty case of paltry legacies. 
 Exhereditari Jilmm non potest pater ^ nisi^ &c. 
 Such is the subject of the Institute, 
 And universal body of the law. 
 This .study fits a mercenary drudge, 
 Who aims at nothing but external trash. 
 Too servile and illiberal for nie. 
 When all is done, Divinity is best. 
 
 Jerome's bible, Faustus ; view it well. 
 Stipendium peccati mors est: Jia! stipendiwUi &c. 
 The reward of sin is death : that's hard. 
 Si peccasse negamus, fallimur, et riulla est in nobis 
 
 4 Veritas, 
 If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, 
 
 and there is no truth in us. 
 Why then belike we must sin, 
 And so consequently die. 
 Aye, we must die an everlasting death. 
 What doctrine call you this ? Che, sera, sera : 
 What will be*, shall be; Divinity adieu. 
 These Metaphysics of Magicians, 
 And necromantic books, are heavenly. 
 
 * It may, perhaps, be advisable here, to apologize for the 
 unplcasing repetition of the name of " the most high," and the 
 irreverend sporting with the best feelings of our nature, whicli 
 will be found throughout the first part of this Play, in the mouth 
 of Faustus ; but it should be remembered that Marlowe is not 
 particular in this ; that some of the greatest, and best men, have 
 not scrupled to represent vice speaking her own language. And 
 it must be observed, that the moral of the parts, as of the whole, 
 is excellent : the very devil is opposed to Faustus, and painted 
 hating sin.
 
 14 THE TRAGEDY OP 
 
 Lines, Circles, Letters, Characters : 
 
 Aye, these are those that Faustus most desires. 
 
 O what a world of profit and delight, 
 
 Of power, of honour, and omnipotence, 
 
 Is promised to the studious artizan ! 
 
 All things that move between the quiet poles 
 
 Shall be at my command. Emperors and kings 
 
 Are but obey'd in their several provinces; . 
 
 But his dominion that exceeds in this, 
 
 Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man : 
 
 A sound Magician is a Demigod. 
 
 Here tire my brains to get a deity. 
 
 ' Enter Wagner. 
 
 Wagner, commend me to my dearest friends, 
 The German Valdes, and Cornelius: ^ 
 
 Request them earnestly to visit me. 
 
 Wag. I will, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Faust. Their conference will be a greater help* 
 Than all my labours, plod I ne'er so fast. 
 
 Enter a Good and Bad Angel. 
 
 Good Ang. O Faustus ! lay that damned book 
 aside, 
 And gaze not on it lest it tempt thy soul, 
 And heap God's heavy wrath upon thy head. 
 Read, read the scriptures ; that is blasphemy. 
 
 * The original editions read, " help to me ;" but as it was un- 
 necessary to the sense, and destructive of the metre, I struck it 
 out : but I wish it to be here understood, that I have invariably 
 preferred presenting the original in its corrupt state, and leav- 
 ing the alteration to the judgment of the reader, to hazarding a 
 <ronjectural emendation; and that when 1 have presumed on 
 any, I bore in mind the directions of Augustus to the friends of 
 Virgil, when he delivered to them the ineid for revision. 
 
 * _
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 14* 
 
 Bad Ang. Go forward, Faustus, in that fa- 
 mous art, 
 Wherein all nature's treasure is contain'd. 
 Be thou on earth as Jove is in the sky, 
 Lord and commander of these elements. 
 
 l^Exeunt Ajig. 
 
 Faust, How am I glutted with conceit of this ! 
 Shall I make Spirits fetch me what I please? 
 Resolve me of all ambiguities ? 
 Perform what desperate enterprise I will ? 
 I'll have them fly to India for gold, 
 Ransack the ocean for orient pearl. 
 And search all corners of the new-found world, 
 For pleasant fruits and princely delicates. 
 I'll have them read me strange philosophy; 
 And tell the secrets of all foreign kings : 
 I'll have them wall all Germany with brass^ 
 And make swift Rhine circle fair Wittenberg : 
 rii have them fill the public schools with skill, 
 Wherewith the students shall be bravely clad : 
 I'll levy soldiers with the coin they bring, 
 And chase the Prince of Parma from our land ; 
 And reign sole king of all the provinces : 
 Yea, stranger engines for the brunt of war. 
 Than was the fiery keel at Antwerp bridge, 
 I'll make my servile spirits to invent. 
 
 Enter Valdes and Cornelius. 
 
 Come, German Valdes, and Cornelius, 
 
 And make me blest * with your sage conference. 
 
 Valdes, sweet Valdes, and Cornelius, 
 
 Know that your words have won me at the last ' 
 
 * Edit, of 1624 reads, " wiser
 
 16 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 To practise Magic and concealed Arts. 
 Philosophy is odious and obscure ; 
 Both Law and Physic are for petty wits ; 
 'Tis Magic, Magic, that hath ravish'd me. t 
 
 Then, gentle friends, aid me in this attempt; 
 And I, that have with subtile syllogisms 
 Graveird the Pastors of the German Church, 
 And made the flow'ring pride of Wittenberg 
 Swarm to my problems, as th' inferaal Spirits I 
 On sweet Musaeus when he came to hell ; '{ 
 
 Will be as cunning as Agrippa was, . f 
 
 Whose shadow made all Europe honour him. 
 
 Val. to Faust. These books, thy wit, and our., 
 experience, ! 
 
 Shall make all nations to canonize us. 
 As Indian Moors obey their Spanish lords, 
 So shall the Spirits of every Element 
 Be always serviceable to us three : 
 Like lions shall they guard us when we please ; 
 Like Almain Rutters with their horsemen's staves. 
 Or Lapland giants trotting by our sides : 
 Sometimes like women, or unwedded maids, 
 Shadowing more beauty in their airy brows, 
 Than have the white breast of the Queen of Love. 
 From Venice they shall drag whole * argasies ; 
 And from America the golden fleece, 
 That yearly stuffs old Philip's treasury ; 
 If learned Faustus will be resolute. 
 
 Faust, to Val. As resolute am I in this 
 As thou to live, therefore object it not.irjj*iH *.!/ 
 
 Corn. The miracles that magic will perform, ? 
 Will make thee vow to study nothing els^., .,utu' 
 
 * Edit. 1616, reads " huge."
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. ff 
 
 He that is grounded in astrology, 
 
 Enrich'd with tongues, well seen in minerals, 
 
 Hath all the principles magic doth require. 
 
 Then doubt not, Faustus, but to be renown'd, 
 
 And more frequented for this mystery, 
 
 Than heretofore the Delphian Oracle. 
 
 The Spirits tell me they can dry the sea. 
 
 And fetch the treasure of all foreign wrecks ; 
 
 Yea, all the wealth that our forefathers hid 
 
 Within the massy entrails of the earth. 
 
 Then, tell me, Faustus, what shall we three want. 
 
 Faust. Nothing, Cornelius; O this cheers my 
 soul! 
 Come show me some demonstrations magical, 
 That I may conjure in some bushy grove. 
 And have these joys in full possession. 
 
 Val. Then haste thee to some solitary grove. 
 And bear wise Bacon's and Albanus' works, 
 The Hebrew Psalter, and New Testament; 
 And whatsoever else is requisite. 
 We will inform thee ere our conference cease. 
 
 Com. to Val. First let him know the words of 
 art; 
 And then all other ceremonies learn'd, 
 Faustus may try his cunning by himself. 
 
 Val. First I'll instruct thee in the rudiments. 
 And then wilt thou be perfecter than I. 
 
 Faust. Then come and dine with me, and 
 after meat < >*'^^ 
 
 We'll canvass every quidity thereof; *'.;* 
 For ere I sleep I'll try what I can do, 
 This night I'll conjure though I die therefore. 
 
 [Exeu7it oinnes. 
 c
 
 18 THK TRAGEDY OP 
 
 Enter two Scholars. 
 
 1 Sclio. I wonder what's become of Faustus, 
 
 that was wont 
 To make our schools ring with sic proho. 
 
 Enter Wagner. 
 
 2 Scho. That shall we presently know ; here 
 
 comes his boy. 
 
 1 Scho. How now, sirrah, where's thy master? 
 Wag. God in heaven knows. 
 
 2 Scho. Why dost not thou know then ? 
 Wag. Yes, I know, but that follows not. 
 
 1 Scho. Go to, sirrah, leave your jesting, and 
 tell where he is. 
 
 Wag. That follows not by force of argument, 
 which you, being licentiates, should stand upon ; 
 therefore acknowledge your error, and be atten- 
 tive. 
 . 2 Scho. Then you will not tell us ? 
 
 Wag. You are deceived, for I will tell you ; 
 yet if you were not dunces you would never sk 
 such a question ; for is he not corpus naturale, 
 and is not that mobile ? then, wherefore should 
 you ask me such a question ? but that I am by 
 nature phlegmatic, slow to wrath, and prone to 
 lechery (to love I would say), it were not for 
 you to come witliin forty feet of the place of 
 execution; although I do not doubt but to see 
 you both hanged the next sessions. Thus having 
 triumphed over you, I will set my countenance 
 like a precisian *, and begin to speak thus; 
 
 * Precisian a puritan.
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 19 
 
 Truly, my dear brethren, my master is within at 
 dinner with Valdes and Cornelius, as this wine 
 if it would speak could inform your worships ; 
 and so the Lord bless you, preserve you, and 
 keep you, my dear brethren. [Exit. 
 
 1 Sc/io. O Faustus ! Then I fear that which I 
 
 have long suspected, 
 That thou art fallen into the damned art, 
 For which they two are infamous through the 
 
 world. 
 
 2 Scho. Were he a stranger, not allied to me, 
 The danger of his soul would make me mourn ; 
 But come, let us go and inform the Rector, 
 
 It may be his grave council may reclaim him. 
 
 1 Scho. I fear me nothing will reclaim him now. 
 
 2 Scho. Yet let us see what we can do. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Thunder. Enter Lucifer and Four Devils. 
 Faustus to them with this Speech. 
 
 Faust. Now that the gloomy shadow of th^ 
 night, 
 Longing to view Orion's drizzling look, 
 Leaps from the antarctic world unto the sky. 
 And dims the welkin with his pitchy breath ; 
 Faustus begin thine incantations, 
 And try if devils will obey thy best ; 
 Seeing thou hast pray'd and sacrific'd to them. 
 Within this circle is Jehovah's name, 
 Forward, and backward, anagramatis'd ; 
 The abreviated names of holy saints ; 
 Figures of every adjunct to the heav'n?, 
 c2
 
 20 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 And characters of signs, and erring * stars, 
 By ^vhich the spirits are enforc'd to rise : 
 Then fear not, Fanstns, to be resolute, 
 And try the utmost, magic can perform. 
 
 (Thunder.) 
 
 Sint mild Dii Acherontis propitii Valeat nvmen 
 triplex Jehovae, igneij aerii, aquitani spiritus ! salnete 
 Orientis Princeps Helzebuby inferni arderUis mo- 
 narcha et demigorgoriy propitiamtis vos, ut appareat 
 et surgat Mephostophilis Dragon^ quod tunieraris ; 
 pel' Jeliovarif Gehennam et consecratam aquam, 
 quam nunc spargo; signumque crucis quod nunc 
 facio ; et per rota nostra ipse nunc surgat nobis 
 dictatis Mephostophilis. 
 
 Enter Devil. * '^ 
 
 I charge thee to return and change thy shape; 
 Thou art too ngly to attend on rae. 
 Go, and return an old franciscan friar. 
 That holy shape becomes a devil best. 
 
 [liJxit Devil. 
 I see there's virtue in my heavenly words ; 
 Who would not be proficient in this art ? , 1. 
 
 How pliant is this Mephbstophilis ; ^ 
 
 Full of obedience and humility ; 
 Such is the force of magic, and my spells. 
 
 Enter Mephostophilis. 
 
 Meph. Now, Faustus, what wouldst thou have 
 me do ? 
 
 * The edit, of 1616 reads " evening." The edit, of ICOa, 
 " crying." The edit, of 1624, only, " erring stars," whicli I have 
 preserved.
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 21 
 
 Faust. I charge thee wait upon me whilst I live, 
 To do whatever Faustus shall command; 
 Be it to make the moon drop from her sphere, 
 Or the ocean to o'erwhelm the world. 
 
 Meph. I am a servant to great Lucifer, 
 And may not follow thee without his leave ; 
 No more than he commands, must we perfoitn. 
 
 Faust. Did not he charge thee to appear to me ? 
 
 Meph. No, I came hither of mine own accord. 
 
 Faust. Did not my conjuring raise thee? speak! 
 
 Meph. That was the cause, but jet per accidens ; 
 For when we hear one racke the name of God, * 
 Abjure the Scriptures and his Saviour Christ, 
 We fly in hope to get his glorious soul : 
 Nor will we come unless he use such means, 
 Whereby he is in danger to be damn'd. 
 Therefore the shortest cut for conjuring, 
 Is stoutly to abjure all godliness, 
 And pray devoutly to the Prince of Hell. 
 
 Faust. So Faustus hath already done, and 
 holds this principle, 
 There is no chief Jj>ut only Belzebub; 
 To whom Faustus doth dedicate himself. 
 This word damnation t^rifies not me, 
 For I confound hell in elysium ; 
 My ghost be with the old philosophers. ^ 
 
 But, leaving these vain trifles of men's souls, 
 Tell me, what is that Lucifer thy lord ? 
 
 Meph. Arch regent and commander of all 
 spirits. 
 
 Faust. Was not that Lucifer an angel once ? 
 
 Meph. Yes, Faustus, and most dearly lov'd of 
 God. [Devils? 
 
 Faust. How comes it then that he is Prince of
 
 2*2 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 3Ieph. Oh ! by aspiring pride and insolence, 
 For which God threw him from the face of heav'n. 
 
 Faust. And what are you that live with Lucifer ? 
 
 Meph. Unhappy spirits that live with Lucifer, 
 Conspir'd against our God with Lucifer, 
 And are for ever damn'd with Lucifer. 
 
 Faust. Where are you damn'd ? 
 
 Meph. In hell. 
 
 Faust. How comes it then that thou art out of 
 hell? 
 
 Meph. Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it. 
 Thinkst thou that I that saw the face of God^vi^ 
 And tasted the eternal joys of heav'n, 
 Am not tormented with ten thousand hells, 
 In being depriv'd of everlasting bliss ? 
 O Faustus ! leave these frivolous demands, 
 Which strike a terror to my fainting heart. 
 
 Faust. What, is great Mephostophilis so pas- 
 sionate, 
 For being deprived of the joys of heav'n! 
 Learn thou of Faustus manly fortitude. 
 And scorn those joys thou never shalt possess. 
 Go, bear these tidings to great Lucifer ; 
 Seeing Faustus hath inqur'd eternal death. 
 By desperate thoughts against Jove's deity. 
 Say he surrenders up to him his soul. 
 So he will spare him four and twenty years, 
 Letting him live in all voluptousness ; 
 Having thee ever to attend on me; 
 To give me whatsoever I shall ask ; 
 To tell me whatsoever I demand ; 
 To slay mine enemies, and to aid my friends ; 
 And always be obedient to my will. 
 Go, and return to mighty Lucifer,
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTU8. 23 
 
 And meet me in my study at midnight, 
 And then resolve me of thy master's mind. 
 
 Meph. I will, Faustus. [^Exit. 
 
 Faust. Had I as many souls as there be stars, 
 I'd give them all for Mephostophilis. 
 By him I'll be great emperor of the world, 
 And make a bridge through the moving air, 
 To pass the ocean with a band of men ; 
 I'll join the hills that bind the Afric shore, 
 And make that country continent to Spain, 
 And both contributary to my crown. 
 The Emperor shall not live but by my leave, 
 Nor any potentate of Germany, i 
 
 Now that 1 have obtain'd what I desir'd. 
 ril live in speculation of this art, 
 Till Mephostophilis return again. [Exit. 
 
 ' Enter Wagner and the Clown. 
 
 ^1 ^ . . .. 
 
 Wag. Come hither, sirrah ! boy ! 
 
 Clown. Boy ! Oh disgrace to my person! Zounds! 
 boy in your face ! you have seen many boys 
 with beards, I am sure. 
 
 Wag. Hast thou no comings in ? 
 
 Clown. And goings out too, you may see, sir. 
 
 Wag. Alas, poor slate ! see how poverty jests 
 in his nakedness. I know the villain's out of 
 service, and so hungry, that 1 know he would 
 give his soul to the devil for a shoulder of mut- 
 ton, though it were blood raw. 
 
 Clown. Not so neither ; I had need to have it 
 well roasted, and good sauce to it, if I pay so 
 dear, I can tell you. 
 
 Wag. Sirrah, wilt thou be my man, and wait
 
 $4 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 on me? and I will make thee go like qui mihi 
 discipulus. 
 
 Clown. What, in verse? i 
 
 Wag. No, slave, in beaten silk and stavesaker*. 
 
 Clown. Stavesaker ? that's good to kill vermin ; 
 then belike if I serve you I shall be lousy. 
 
 Wag. Why, so thou shalt be whether thou dost 
 it or no : for, sirrah, if thou dost not presently 
 bind thyself to me for seven years, I'll turn all 
 the lice about thee into familiars, and make them 
 tear thee in pieces. 
 
 Clown. Nay, sir, you may spare yourself a 
 labour, for they are as familiar with me as if 
 they paid for their meat and drink, I can tell 
 you. 
 
 Wag. Well, sirrah, leave your jesting, and 
 take these guilders. 
 
 Clown. Yes, marry, sir, and I thank you too. 
 
 Wag. So now thou art to be at an hour's warn- 
 ing whensoever and wheresoever the devil shall 
 f^tch thee. <^"" * 
 
 Clown. Here, take you guilders aganri' I'll none 
 of 'em. 
 
 Wag. Not I, thou art pressed; prepare thyself, 
 for I will presently raise up two devils to carry 
 thee away. Banio ! Belcher ! 
 
 Clown. Belcher! and Belcher come here, I'll 
 belch him ; I am not afraid of a devil. 
 
 Enter two Devils. 
 Wag. How now, sir, will you serve me now ? 
 
 * Stavesaker Larkspur.
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. &S 
 
 Clotvn. Ay, good Wagner, take away the Devil 
 then. 
 
 Wag. Spirits away ! now, sirrah, follow me. 
 
 Clown. I will, sir; but hark you, master, will 
 you teach me this conjuriug occupation? 
 
 Wag. Ay, sirrah, I'll teach thee to turn thyself 
 to a dog, or a cat, or a mouse, or a rat, or any 
 thing. 
 
 Clown. A dog, or a cat, or a mouse, or a rat ! 
 O brave Wagner ! 
 
 Wag. Villain, call me Master Wagner, and see 
 that you walk attentively, and let your right eye 
 be always diametrically fixed upon my left heel, 
 that thou mayst Quasi vestigias nostras insistere. 
 
 Clown, Well, sir, I warrant you. [Exeunt. 
 
 TAUSTUS in his otvdy. 
 
 Faust. Now, Faustus, 
 Must thou needst be damn'd; canst thou not be 
 
 What boots it then to think on God or heav'n ? 
 Away withuch vain fancies, and despair; 
 Despair in God, and trust in Belzebub. 
 Now, go not back, Faustus; be resolute. 
 Why waver'st thou*? O something soundeth in 
 
 mine ear, 
 Abjure this magic, turn to God again: 
 Why, he loves thee not ; 
 The God thou serv'st is thine own appetite. 
 Wherein is first the love of Belzebub : 
 To him ril build an altar and a church, * 
 
 And offer lukewarm blood of new-born babes. 
 
 Edit. 1624, reads, " waver'st thou.'*
 
 23 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 Enter two Angels. 
 
 Bad Ang. Go forward, Faustus, in that most 
 famous art. 
 
 Good Ang. Sweet Faustus, leave that execra- 
 ble art. 
 
 Faust. Contrition, prayer, repentance, what of 
 these * ? 
 
 Good Ang. Oh, they are means to bring thee 
 unto heaven ! 
 
 Bad Ang. Rather illusions, fruits of lunacy, 
 That make men foolish that do use them most. 
 
 Good Ang. Sweet Faustus, think of heaven 
 and heavenly things. 
 
 Bad Ang. No, Faustus, think of honour and 
 of wealth. [^Exeunt Ang, 
 
 Faust. Wealth! 
 Why the signiory of Embden shall be mine ; 
 When Mephostophilis shall stand by me, 
 What power can hurt me ? Faustus, thou art safe : 
 Cast no more doubts, Mephostophilis come. 
 And bring glad tidings from great Lucifer. 
 Is't not midnight? Come, Mephostophilis, 
 Veni, veni, Mephostophilis. 
 
 ,.. ,^,ji, .^ Enter Mephostophilis. 
 
 Now tell me what sayeth Lucifer, thy lord ? 
 
 Meph. That I shall wait on Faustus whilst he 
 lives, 
 So thou wilt buy his service with thy soul. 
 
 Faust. Already F'austus hath hazarded that 
 for thee. 
 
 * Edit. 1624 reads, " what be these."
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 27 
 
 Meph. But now thou must bequeath it solemnly, 
 And write a deed of gift with thine own blood : 
 For that security craves Lucifer. 
 If thou deny it, I must back to hell. 
 
 Faust. Stay, Mephostophilis, and tell me 
 What good will my soul do thy lord? 
 
 Meph. Enlarge his kingdom. 
 
 Faust. Is that the reason why he tempts us thus? 
 
 Meph. Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris. 
 
 Faust. Why, have you any pain that torture 
 others ? [man. 
 
 Meph. As great as have the human spirits of 
 But tell me, Faustus, shall I have thy soul ? 
 And I will be thy slave and wait on thee, 
 And give thee more than thou hast wit to ask. 
 
 Faust. Ay, Mephostophilis, I'll give it him. 
 
 Meph. Then, Faustus, stab thine arm courage- 
 ously. 
 And bind thy soul, that at some certain day 
 Great Lucifer may claim it as his own ; 
 And then be thou as great as Lucifer. 
 
 Faust. Lo, Mephostophilis, for love of thee, 
 Faustus hath cut his arm, and with his blood 
 Assures himself to be great Lucifer's, 
 Chief lord, and regent of perpetual night. 
 View here this blood that trickles from mine arm, 
 And let it be propitious for thy wish. 
 
 Meph. But, Faustus, 
 Write it in manner of a deed of gift. 
 
 Faust. Ah, so I do ! but, Mephostophilis, 
 My blood congeals, and I can write no more. 
 
 Meph. I'll fetch thee fire to dissolve it straight. 
 
 {Exit.
 
 98 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 Fatist. Whdit might the staying of my blood 
 portend ? 
 It is unwilling I should write this bill. 
 Why streams it not that I may write afresh ? 
 Faustus gives to thee bis soul : O there it stay'd ! 
 Why should'st thou not? Is not thy soul thine own? 
 Then write again, Faustus gives to thee his soul. 
 
 Enter Mephostophilis with the Chafer of Fire, 
 
 Meph. See, Faustus, here is fire ; set it oiv 
 
 Faust. So now the blood begins to clear again; 
 Now will I make an end immediately. 
 
 Meph. What will not I do to obtain his soul ? 
 
 FatLst, Consummatum est^ this bill is ended, 
 And Faustus hath bequeath'd his soul to Lucifer^ 
 But what is this inscription on mine arm ? 
 Homo fuge, whither should I fly ? ,, , . 
 
 If unto heaven he'll throw me down to hell. 
 My senses are deceived, here's nothing writ: 
 O, yes, I see it plain, even here is writ 
 Homo fuge ; yet shall not Faustus fly. 
 
 Meph. I'll fetch him something to delight his 
 nj^nd. \_Ex'it. 
 
 Enter Devils, giving Crowns and rich Apparel 
 to Faustus. (They dance and then depart.) 
 
 Enter Mephostophilis. 
 
 FatLst. What means this show? speak, Mephos- 
 tophilis. 
 
 Meph. Nothing, Faustus, but to delight thy 
 mind, 
 
 And let thee see what magic can perform.
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 2S5^ 
 
 Faust. But may I raise such spirits when I 
 please ? 
 
 Meph. Ay, Faustus, and do greater things 
 than these. 
 
 Faust. Then, Mephostophilis, receive this 
 scroll *, 
 A deed of gift, of body, and of soul: 
 But yet conditionally that thou perform'st 
 All covenants and articles between us both. 
 
 Meph. Faustus, I swear by hell and Lucifer, 
 To effect all promises between us both. 
 
 Faust. Then hear me read it, Mephostophilis, 
 On these conditions following : 
 
 First. That Faustus may be a Spirit in form 
 luid substance. 
 
 Secondly. That Mephostophilis shall be his 
 servant, and be by him commanded. 
 
 Thirdly. That Mephostophilis shall do for 
 him, and bring him whatsoever he requireth f . 
 
 Fourthly. That he shall be in his house or 
 chamber invisible. \,, v.if*i^ 
 
 Lastly. He shall appear to the said Jolin 
 Faustus, at all times, in what shape and form 
 soever he please. 
 
 I, John Faustus of Wittenberg, Doctor, by 
 these presents, do give both body and 
 soul to' Lucifer, Prince of the East, and 
 his minister Mephostophilis; and further- 
 more grant unto them, that four-and- 
 twenty years being expired, and these 
 article9above written being inviolate, full 
 
 This scroll," is left out in the edit, of 1024. 
 
 t " He requiretli," is omitted in the edit, of 1616 and 1624-
 
 90 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 **, power to fetch or carry the said John 
 Faustus, body and soul, into their habi- 
 tation wheresoever. 
 
 By me, 
 
 John Faustus. 
 
 Meph. Speak, Faustus, do you deliver this as 
 your deed ? 
 
 Faust. Aye, take it, and the devil give thee 
 good of it. 
 
 Meph. So now, Faustus, ask me what thou wilt. 
 
 Faust. First I will question thee about hell. 
 Tell me where is the place that men call hell ? 
 
 Meph. Under the heavens. 
 
 Faust. Aye, so are all things else ; but where 
 abouts ? 
 
 Meph. Within the bowels of these elements ; 
 Where we are tortured and remain for ever. 
 Hell hath no limits *, nor is circumscribed 
 tn one self place ; but where we are is hell ; 
 And where hell is there must we ever be : 
 And, to be short, when all the world dissolves, 
 And every creature shall be purified, 
 All places shall be hell that are not heaven. 
 
 Faust. I think hell is a mere fable. 
 
 Meph. Ah ! think so still, till experience change 
 thy mind. 
 
 Faust. Why, dost thou think that Faustus 
 shall be damned ? 
 
 Meph. Aye, of necessity, for here's the scroll ^" 
 In which thou hast given thy soul to Lucifer. 
 
 Faust. Aye, and body too ; and vhat of that ? 
 
 * This description is both morally and poetically beautiful.
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. ST 
 
 Think'st thou that Faustus is so fond to imagine, 
 
 That after this life there is any pain ? 
 
 No, these are trifles, and mere old wives tales. 
 
 Meph. But I am an instance to prove the con- 
 trary ; 
 For I tell thee I am damn'd, and now in hell. 
 
 Faust. Nay, an this be hell, I'll willingly be 
 damn'd : 
 What sleeping, eating, walking, and disputing? 
 But, leaving this, let me have a wife, 
 The fairest maid in Germany ; 
 For I am wanton and lascivious, 
 And cannot live without a wife. 
 
 Meph. Well, Faustus, thou shalt have a wife. 
 [He fetches in a Woman Devil. 
 
 Faiist. What sight is this? 
 
 Meph. Now, Faustus, wilt thou have a wife? 
 
 Faust. Here's a hot whore indeed ; no, I'll no 
 wife. 
 
 Meph. Marriage is but a ceremonial toy, 
 And if thou lovest me think no more of it : 
 I'll cull thee out the fairest courtezans, 
 And bring them every morning to thy bed : 
 She whom thine eye shall like, thy heart shall 
 
 have ; 
 Were she as chaste as was Penelope, 
 As wise as Saba, or as beautiful 
 As was bright Lucifer before his fall. 
 Here take this book, and peruse it well ; 
 The iterating of these lines brings gold ; 
 The framing of this circle on the ground 
 Brings thunder, whirlwinds, storms, and lightning; 
 Pronounce this thrice devoutly to thyself,
 
 32 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 And men in harness shall appear lo thee, 
 Ready to execute what thou comraand'st. 
 
 Faust. Thanks, Mephostophilis, for this sweet 
 ..i book. 
 This will I keep as chary as my life. [Exeu7it. 
 
 Enter Wagner solus. 
 
 Wag. Learned Faustus, 
 To know the secrets of astronomy, 
 Graven in the book of Jove's high firraamt^t^^a 
 Did mount himself to scale Olympus' top,.>t\ 
 Being seated in a chariot burning bright, fl^yifr 
 Di-awn by the strength of yoked dragon's necks : 
 He now is gone to prove cosmography, , 
 
 And, as I guess, will first arrive at Rome, { 
 To see the Pope, and manner of his court,^'*!^. 
 And take some part of holy Peter's feast. 
 That on this day is highly solenmized. ,i^*^* 
 
 Enter Faustus, m his Stiidy, and Meph(5- '^ 
 
 STOPHILIS. ' ^' 
 
 Faust. When I behold the heav'ns, then T repe^, 
 And cnrse thee, wicked Mephostophilis, 7 
 
 Because thou hast deprived me of these joys. ^ 
 
 MepTi. 'Twas thine own seeking, Fausty^, 
 
 thank thyself*. ^ 
 
 But think'st thou heav'n such a glorious thing R* 
 
 ] tell thee, Faustus, it is not half so fair * 
 
 As thou, or any man that breathes on earth. .. 
 
 * When Faustus, in the bitterness of sorrow, seeks ^nie 
 palliative to his upbraiding conscience, in tlie allurement and 
 excitement of Mephostophilis ; how morally beautiful, but how 
 caustic is the reply of this fiend, " It was tbiue own seeking, 
 Faustus, thank thyself." ,
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 33 
 
 Faust. How prov'st thou that? 
 
 Meph. 'Twas made for man, then he's more 
 excellent. 
 
 Faust. If heav'n was made for man, 'twas made 
 for me ; 
 I will renounce th^ magic, and repent. 
 
 Enter the tivo Angels. 
 
 Good Ang. Faustus, repent, yet heaven will 
 pity thee. 
 
 Bad Ang. Thou art a spirit, God cannot pity 
 thee. 
 
 Faust. Who buzzeth in mine ears I am a spirit ? 
 Be I a devil, yet God may pity me ; 
 Yea, God will pity me if I repent. 
 
 Bad Ang. Ah ! but Faustus never will repent! 
 
 y^^-.M-^i. \^Exeunt Ang. 
 
 P&ust. My heart is harden'd, I cannot repent : 
 Scarce can I name salvation, faith, or heaven : 
 Swords, poisons, halters, and envenom'd steel, 
 Are laid before me to dispatch myself; 
 And long ere this I should have done the deed, 
 Had not sweet pleasure conquer'd deep despair : 
 Have I not made blind Homer sing to me, 
 Of Alexander's love, and CEnon's death ? 
 And hath not he that built the walls of Thebes, 
 With ravishing sounds of his melodious harp. 
 Made music with my Mephostophilis ? 
 Why should I die then, or basely despair? 
 'i am resolv'd Faustus shall not repent/ "' 
 
 Come, Mephostophilis, let us dispute again* 
 
 * The remainder of this scene, an ostentatious display of 
 school-learning, with which the authors before Shakspeare 
 abound, may be passed over without loss to the reader. 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 And reason of divine astrology : u^^if 
 
 Speak, are there many spheres above tlie mocwi ; 
 Are all celestial bodies but one globe, vd// 
 
 As is the substance of this centric earth ?. 
 
 Meph. As are the elements such are the heav'ns ; 
 Even from the moon unto th' imperial orb^^ji^^. 
 Mutually folded in each other's spheres, \i\%\^\ 
 And jointly move upon one axletree, ^HBm 
 Whose termine is termed the world's T^idfe ptjie : 
 Nor are the names of Saturn, M^'S^[id J^upM^er 
 Feign'd, but are evening stars.^m ^ 't>t/l iV\^\< 
 Faust. But have they all one motion, both 
 
 situ et tempore? y.js jtn 
 
 Meph. All move from east to west in foUT'Sitid- 
 twenty hours upon the poles of the world; but 
 differ in their motions upon the place of . the 
 zodiac. Dliova ^aU 
 
 /^^mist. These slender questions W^grier^^.fcan 
 ? decide; , ,vt-^ii \ 
 
 Hath Mephostophilis no greater skill ?fi uodi i\ ) 
 Who knows not the double motion of the planets ? 
 That the first is finish'd in a natural day ; 
 The second thus ; Saturn in 30 years, Jupiter in 
 , 12, Mars in 4; the Sun, Venus, and Mer- 
 ^^ciiry in a year ; the Moon in 28 days: 
 these are freshmen's questions; but tell 
 ine, hath every sphere a dominion or aw,- 
 
 Meph. Aye. ^ .,t ti 
 
 Fav^t. How many heavens or spheres are there? 
 Meph. Nine : the seven planets, the firmament, 
 and the imperial heaven. 
 
 Faust. But is there none, cwlmn igneum et 
 , chrj^talUnum,huuit4hii i .^^ u^ ^ s 
 
 d^.i-
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 35 
 
 Meph. No, Faustus, they are but fables. 
 Faust. Resolve me then this question. 
 Why are not conjunctions, oppositions, aspects, 
 eclipses, all at one time? but in some 
 ^ years, we have more, some less. 
 Meph. Per inequalem motum respectu totius. 
 Faust. Well, I am answer'd ; now tell me who 
 
 made the world? 
 Meph. I will not. 
 ' Faust. Sweet Mephostophilis, tell me. 
 Meph. Move me not, Faustus. * ^ 
 
 Faust. Villain, have not I bound thee to tell 
 
 me any thing? 
 Meph. Aye, that is not against our kingdcnk ; 
 This is: thou art damn'd; think thou of hellv^^^ 
 Faust. Think, Faustus, upon God that made 
 the world. aiirbo:v 
 
 'Meph. Remember this. r>t;:*iil "[^^t. 
 
 Faust, Ah ! go, accursed spirit, to ugly hell; 
 'Tis thou hast damn'd distressed Faustus' soul I ^ 
 
 Had Alls. 100 late. r r ,t^ 
 
 GpodAng. Never too late if Faustus willrepehf. 
 
 JBad Ang. If thou repent, devils will tear thee 
 M pieces. 
 
 Good -An^. Repent, and they shall never raise 
 thy skin. * * : L 1 ' ' [^Exeurit Ang. 
 
 Faust. O Christ, my Saviour, my Saviour^. 
 Help, to save distressed Faustus' soul L , !: 
 
 . &ier Lucifer, Belzebub, and M EPbo^:l\ 
 
 STOPHILIS. ^.fs 
 
 " Luci. Christ cannot save thy soul, for he is just ; 
 There's none but I have interest in the same. 
 
 d2
 
 36 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 Faust. Oh! what art thou that look*st so let* 
 
 ribly? ' '; ' r***' 
 
 ^'^!Liici. I am Lucifer; t*a.d *ud^ ^asA 
 
 And this is my companion Prince in H^WJ ^^^^ * 
 
 Faust. O, Faustus, they are come to fetdhthe^? 
 
 Beh. We are come to tell thee thou dostin^ 
 *'' " iure us. >ia*' i -u f -r-Mint .aioiiJtJ/sTr 
 
 iwa. Thou call'st on Christ contrary to thy 
 11.^ promise. ^^ 
 
 Belz. Thou should'st not think on God. *^ -'** 
 JLuci. Think on the devil. '^' 
 
 ^ JBeh. And his dam too. 
 
 Faust. Nor will he* henceforth pardon him 
 . for this, 
 And Faustus vows never to look to heav'n. ^ 
 
 Luci. So show thyself an obedient servant/ 
 And we will highly gratify thee for it. * .ti^^ 
 
 Belz. Faustus, '^''' 
 
 We are come from hell to show thee pastimel^"^ 
 Sit, and thou shalt behold the deadly sins ^^'*^* 
 Appear to thee in their own proper shapes. ^"^^* 
 
 Faust. That sight will be as pleasant unto me* 
 As Paradise to Adam on creation. ' % '^ 
 
 Luci. Talk not of Paradise, but mark thefeKu^* 
 Go, Mephostophilis, and fetch them in. '^^^^ * , 
 
 Enter the seven Deadly Sins. 
 ^...^J^tlz. Now, Faustus, question them of their 
 
 vln o^panies and dispositions^ / i.^rd'v^^.'^i^'j. 
 
 Faust. That shall I soon : what art thou, the first? 
 
 Pride, I am Pride: I disdain to have any pa- 
 rents. I am like to Ovid's flea; I can creep into 
 
 * If any apology is accessary for the uuusual freedom of my 
 alterations her^ I presume t^e corrupt state of the original amply 
 furnishes me with it.
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 37 
 
 erery corner of a wench ; sometimes like a peri- 
 wig I sit upon her brow ; next like a necklace I 
 hang about her neck ; then like a fiin of feathers 
 I kiss her : and then turning myself to a wrought 
 smock do what I list. But fie, what a smell is 
 here ! I'll not speak another word for a king's 
 ransom, unless the ground is perfumed, and' co- 
 hered with cloth of arras. 
 
 Faust. Thou art a proud knave, jindje^; what 
 art thou, the second ? ^ ,^'5. n- sr \ :A 
 
 Covet. I am Covetousness : begotten of an old 
 churl, in a leathern bag : and might I now obtain 
 my wish, this house, you, and all should turn to 
 gold, that I might lock you safe in^c^^my chest: 
 
 my sweet gold ! , ^.ijjvn^ji hix A 
 Faitst. And what art thou, the thirdi ,.^j^^y 
 Envy. I am Envy ; begotten of a chimney- 
 sweeper and an oyster-wife : I cannot read, and 
 therefore wish all books burned : I am lean with 
 seeing others eat. O that there would come a 
 famine over all the world, that all might die, and 
 
 1 live alone ; then thou should'st see how fat I'd 
 be ! But must thpfj ^jt^ and I stand? ^oui^ dovyy 
 witb a vengeance,,! ^ , -.;^,, 'l[^^, fri vl Jl"' 
 ,. Faust. Out, envious wretch! But what arjt 
 thou, the fourth? 
 
 Wrath. I am Wrath : I had neither father nor 
 mother : I lept out of a lion's mouth, when I was 
 scarce an hour old ; and I have ever since run 
 up and down the world with this case of rapiers, 
 wounding myself when I could get none to fight 
 withal : I was born in hell, and look to it, for 
 some of you shall be my father. 
 ^' Faust. And 'what art thou, the fifth r 

 
 58 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 Glut. I am Gluttony : my parents are all dea^, 
 and the devil a penny they have left me, but a 
 Small pension; and that buys me thirty meals a 
 day and ten beavers; a small trifle to suffice 
 nature: I am of a royal pedigree; my father tvas 
 a Gammon of Bacon, and my mother was a 
 Hogshead of Claret- wine; my godfathers \^ere 
 these, Peter Pickled-herring and Martin Martle- 
 mass-beef ; but my godmother, oh ! she was an 
 ancient gentlewoman, her namjS was Margery 
 March-beer. Now, Faustus, thou hast heard all 
 my progeny, wilt thou bid me to supper ? 
 
 FavsL Not I. ''' * ^'^' 
 
 Glut. The devil choak thee. nr.... i 
 
 Faust. Choak thyself, glutton. What art thotf, 
 the sixth ? - y*^ , 
 
 Sloth. Heigho ! I am Sloth : I was begotten on 
 a sunny bank. ' "^ 
 
 JHeigho! I'll not speak a \vot4 mire'%M%M's 
 , ransom. 
 
 . Faust. And what art thou, Mistress Minx, the 
 ^eventh, and last? '"" - -'^ ^ < ^m. ,.i 
 
 ,! Letc/i. Who, I, sir? Om oiie ' thlit 'tovW a8f 
 inch of raw. mutton, better than an ell of fried 
 stockfish ; and the first letter of my name begins 
 ^ith Letchery. : . ';'^ ^^'' . j;'" 
 
 jLiict. Away to hell, away ! On piper. 
 
 [Fxeunt the seven Sins. 
 
 Faust. Oh ! how this sight doth delight my soul. 
 r IjUcL But, Faustus, in hell are all manner of 
 
 delights. i -I / ^ > 
 
 Faust. Oh! might I see hen,'and rfetnm^agaifi 
 
 safe ; how happy were I then ! 
 LucL Faustus, thou shalt ;
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 3i> 
 
 At midnight I will send for thee : meanwhile 
 Peruse this book and view it thoroughly, 
 And thou shalt turn thyself into what shape thou 
 wilt. 
 
 Faust. Thanks, mighty Lucifer! 
 This will I keep as chary as my life. 
 
 Jyuci, Now, Faustus, farewell. 
 
 Faust. Farewell, great Lucifer. ," 
 
 Coitte, IVlephostophilis. [Exeunt several waij^^^ 
 
 .r -f '. '. JSnter the Clow ^. "" 
 
 Clown. What, Dick ! look to the horses there 
 till I come again; I have gotten one of Doctor 
 Faustus'- conjuring books, and now we'll have 
 ^uch knavery as 't passes. ^ ^^^^^ ^ ^^^ 
 
 Enter Dick. < <lty r^ -rtt 
 
 no H'^ttn- ' ' V 
 
 Dick. What, Robin! you njust come away 
 ^^dyalk the horses. , ^ ' , '^ 7,. ^ , , 
 
 Jbtob. I walk the horses ! I scorn i'faitli ; 1 
 Jtiave other matters in hand ; let the horses walk 
 themselves an they will. A per sea, t. h. e. the: 
 Q^per se o deny organ gorgon: keep further 
 irpm me, O thou illiterate and unlearned hostler ! 
 
 Dick. Snails! what hast thou got there? a 
 Dook ! why thou canst not tell ne'er a word on't. 
 
 Rob. That shalt thou see presently : keep oiit 
 of the circle, I say, lest I send you into the 
 Qstry * with a vengeance. 
 
 ,' Dick. That's like i'fairfif' '"f oW^^ha(*"15Ster 
 leave your foolery, for an my master come, hell 
 ^p^i.re.yourfaith., .^, - -o 3 
 
 v^ * " Ostry,*' a corruptioa of hostelry. ^ , , | ,y^ j> ^
 
 40 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 Rob. My master conjure me! I'll tell thee 
 what ; an my master come here, I'll clap a fair 
 pair of horns on his head, as e'er thou sawest in 
 thy life. 
 
 Dick. Thou need'st not do that, for ray mistress 
 hath done it. 
 
 Rob. Ah ! there be of us here that have waded 
 as deep into matters as other men, if they were 
 disposed to talk. 
 
 Dick. A plague take you, I thought you did 
 not sneak up and down after her fpr nothing. 
 But, I prithee, tell me in good sadness, Robin, i$ 
 that a conjuring book ? 
 
 Rob. Do but speak what thou'lt have me to 
 do, and I'll do't: if thou'lt dance naked, put off 
 thy clothes, and I'll conjure thee about presently; 
 Oj if thou'lt go but to the tavern with me, I'y 
 give thee white wine, red wine, claret wine, sack, 
 muskadine, malmsey, and whippincrust; hold, 
 belly, hold, and we'll not pay one penny for it. 
 
 Dick. O brave! Prithee let's to it presently, 
 for I am as dry as a dog. .i 
 
 Rob. Come, then, let us away. [ExewUji 
 
 Enter Chorus. '**^''' ''^ ^ ^""^ 
 Learned Faustus, to find the secrets of astronomy. 
 Graven in the book of Jove's high firmament. ^ 
 Pid mount him up to scale Olympus top ; 
 Where sitting in a chariot burning bright. 
 Prawn by the strength of yoked dragon's necks, 
 {le views * the clouds, the planets, and the stars. 
 The trojpic zones, and quarters of the sky,i^i 
 
 iw A t>iu. f/*i Edit. 16?4, reacb " To viewer i iKiu..w. '4^
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. %| 
 
 From the bright circle of the horned moon, 
 Even to the height of Primum Mobile^ 
 And whirling round of this * circumference, 
 Within the concave compass of the pole. 
 From East to West his dragons swiftly glide. 
 And in eight days did bring him home again : 
 Not long he staid within his quiet house, 
 To rest his bones after this weary toil ; 
 But new exploits do hale him out again ; 
 And mounted then upon a dragon's back. 
 That with his wings did part the subtle air. 
 He now is gone to prove cosmography. 
 That measures coasts and kingdoms of the earth ; 
 And as I guess will first arrive at Rome, 
 To see the Pope and manner of his Court, 
 And take some part of holy Peter's feast, 
 The which this day is highly solemniz'd. \^ExiL 
 
 ^^^^ Enter Faustus and Mephostophilis. 
 
 Faust. Having now, my good Mephostophilis^* 
 Past with delight the stately town of Trier, ; 
 Environ'd round with airy mountain tops. 
 With w:alls of flint, and deep entrenched lakes, 
 Not to be won by any conquering Prince ; 
 From Paris next, coasting the realm of France, 
 We saw the river Maine fall into Rhine, 
 Whose banks are spj with groves of fruitful vines- 
 
 .. ; ... : 11 
 
 * The edit. 1616 and 1G31, read " with this." The edit. 1624, 
 " with his :" and the edit. 1663, " in this circumference." It 
 will be evident from this, that all tlie editors were in doubt tA 
 to the meaning of the passage : I confess I cannot discover oB 
 what grounds any one of the alterations have been made , nor 
 is the meaning I have presumed on clearly perceptible : I un- 
 derstand it as alluding to the rotary motion of the earth.
 
 tl THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 Then unto Naples; rich Campania, 
 
 Whose buildings fair, and gorgeous to the eye, " 
 
 The streets straight forth, and paved with tinet* 
 
 brick : 
 There saw we learned Maro's golden tomb. 
 The way he cut an English mile in length, 
 Thorough a rock of stone in one night's space. 
 From thence to Venice, Padua, and the East* 
 In one of which a sumptuous temple stands, * 
 That threats the stars with her aspiring top; ' 
 Whose frame is paved with sundry coloured stones. 
 And rooft aloft with curious work in gold lom^ > 
 Thus hitherto hath Faustus spent his time, r 
 But tell me now what resting place is Ibis ? 
 Hast thou, as erst I did command, ^Jfrt bciA 
 Conducted me within the walls of Rome?// *jrfl 
 Meph. I have, my Faustus, and for proof thereof. 
 This is the goodly palace of the Pope:., jnod ni 
 And, 'cause we are no common guests?* \mi^\ 
 I choose his private chamber for our use. i?(iffV/ 
 Faust. I hope his holiness will bid you welcomes 
 Meph. All's one, for we'll be bold with hi* 
 venison. 
 But now, my Faustus, that thou may'st perceive. 
 What Rome contains for to delight thine eyes ; 
 Know that this city stands upon seven hills, nlf 
 That underprop the groundwork of the same! 
 Just through the midst runs Howiog Tyber's 
 '''Stream, r ^^mti^ ttf\c{i t\c^9 \\vt^9 rroHt bn/* 
 With winding banks that cut it in two parts ;v 
 Over the which two stately bridges lean, - A 
 
 That make safe passage to each part oiJB^M^V 
 Upon the bridge, call'd Ponto Angel0,b 7/^57 oW 
 Erected is a castle passing strong, b 100 d^iA ^^
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. < 
 
 Where thou shalt see such store of ordnance?'^ t 
 As, that the double cannons forged of brassv'^d ^i 
 Do match the number of the days contain'dsriT 
 Within the compass of one complete yeai* ; 
 Beside the gates and high pyramides, ^^^^ 
 
 That Julius Caesar brought from Africa. V 
 
 Faust. Now by the kingdoms of infernal rule, 
 Of Styx, of Acheron, and the fiery lake 
 Of ever-burning Phlegeton, I swear; 
 That I do long to see the monuments 
 And situation of bright splendent Rome^'ViodW 
 Come, therefore, let's away. -Oi hA 
 
 Mepk. Nay, stay, my Faustus ; I know yod*8 
 see the Pope, J> o 
 
 And take some part of holy Peter's feast^t ^<M 
 The which this day with high solemnity, mbiioD 
 This day is held through Rome and Italy, ^^ 
 In honour of the Pope's triumphant victory. 
 
 Faiist. Sweet Mephostophilis thou pleasest me ; 
 Whilst I am here on earth let me be cloy*d rh t 
 With all things that delight the heart of man f^ 
 My four-and-twenty years of liberty, s^^'^yi 
 I'll spend in pleasure and in dalliance,- 
 That Faustus' name, whilst this bright frame 
 
 ^ '{ >doth stand, *' ot lo^ iff<^i!i> *^moH ied^ 
 May be admired through the forthest land. ^^A 
 
 Meph. 'Tis well said, Faustus; come thetf^ 
 '^T ' stand by me, 
 And thou shalt see them come immediately. 
 
 Faust. Nay, stay, my gentle Mephostophilis^'/ 
 And grant me my request, and then I go. * * 
 
 Thou know'st within the compass of eight dayij 
 We view'd the face of heaven, of earth, and hell : 
 So high our dragons soar'd into the air.
 
 ^ THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 Thai, looking down, the earth appear d to me '' 
 No bigger than my hand in quantity : 
 There did we view the kingdoms of the world, 
 And what might please mine eye, I there beheld. 
 Then in this show let me an actor be, 
 That this proud Pope may Faustus' coming see*. 
 Meph. Let it be so, my Faustus ; but first stay, 
 And view their triumphs as they pass this way;i 
 And then devise what best contents thy mind, ^ 
 By cunning f in thine art to cross the Pope, 
 Or dash the pride of this solemnity; 
 To make his monks and abbots stand like apes,) 
 And point like antiques at his triple crowii,:j^. , ' 
 To beat the beads about the friars' pates; ^)'. ii 
 Or clap huge horns upon the cardinals heads, v. / 
 Or any villany thou canst devise, vv> i 
 
 And I'll perform it, Faustus : hark! they come: 
 This day shall make thee be admired in Rom<e. 
 
 t, .vj 
 Enter the Cardinals and Bishops, some hearing 
 
 Crosiers, some the Pillars ; Monks and Friar^*^ 
 singing their Procession : then the Pope, and 
 Raymond, King of Hungary, loith Bruno 
 led in Chains. , .,-. 
 
 Pope. Cast down our footstool, ot) bnotq ^idl 
 
 Ray. Saxon Bruno stoop, >b ni J>il/ 
 
 Whilst on thy back his holiness ascends ^rsH 
 Saint Peter's chair and state pontifical. ;. ^ 
 
 Bru. Proud Lucifer, that state belongs to me ; 
 But thus 1 fall to Peter, not to thee. 
 
 Pope. To me and Peter shalt thou groveling Ijie^ 
 Aa4 crouch before the Papal dignity: 
 
 : -/ * Edit. 1624 reads, " cunning.<'f sqqH M^ V 
 t Edit. 1C16 reads, " comiiig;.'\> ^^ it^lOt-b 28 ^^ l
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 4# 
 
 Soufid trumpets then, for thus Saint Peter's heir. 
 From Bruno's back ascends Saint Peter's chair. 
 
 [^A flourish ivhile he ascends. 
 Thug, as the gods creep on with feet of wool, 
 Long ere with iron hands they punish men ; 
 So shall our sleeping- vengeance now arise, 
 And smite with death thy hated enterprise. 
 Lord Cardinals of France, and Padua, 
 Go forthwith to our holy consistory, 
 And read among the statutes decretal, 
 What by the holy council held at Trent ^^ b tA 
 The sacred synod hath decreed for him, 
 That doth assume the Papal government 
 Without election, and a true consent : 
 Away, and bring us word with speed; >^^* !iftX 
 
 1 Card. We go, my lord. * ^'^'^^Exeunt Card. 
 
 Pope. Lord Raymond. >"! ^^^ an .iiaq iii . 
 
 Faust. Go, haste thee, g^ntWr M^|:JhbstdfWiilis,* 
 Follow the cardinals to the consistory; 
 And as they turn their superstitious books. 
 Strike them with sloth and drowsy idleness; 
 And make them sleep so sound, that in their 
 
 shapes 
 Thyself and I may parley with this Pope, 
 This proud confronter of the Emperor,"' *^'^ * V 
 And, in despite of all his holiness, '-^''*^^^-^**^' 
 Restore this Bruno to his liberty, '^^' .m iJia/^ 
 And bear him to the states of Germany. ' ' 
 
 Meph. Faustus, I go^K.i#H^MU uiioi*! .iixo. 
 
 Faust. Dispatch it soon, ^ ^* ^^^^ \ n*;dJ .j*ff 
 The Pope shall curse, that Faustus came to Rome. 
 
 [Exit Faust, and Meph. 
 
 Bru. Pope Adrian, let me have right of law. 
 I was elected by the Emperor.'^ **^ ^^^
 
 46 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 Pope. We will depose the Emp'ror for that 
 deed, 1* 
 
 And curse the people that submit to him : r^ 
 Both he and thou shall stand excommunicate, 
 And interdict from church's privilege, 
 And all society of holy men : 
 He grows too proud in his authority. 
 Lifting his lofty head above the clouds, ^"^ i 
 And like a steeple overpeers the church : ^^ ^''? 
 But we'll pull down his haughty insolenc^^' ^^ 
 And as Pope Alexander, our progenitor, '^ 
 
 Trod on the neck of German Frederick,* .vt^* 
 Adding this golden sentence to our praise; 
 That Peter's heirs should tread on Emperor.^, * 
 And walk upon the dreadful adder's back, i-fc*"*" 
 Treading the lion and the dragon dowHi*'^''*^^wo'J 
 And fearless spurn the killing basilisk; ^iffp J 
 So will we quell that haughty schismatic, i<!flJ*S^ 
 And by authority apostolical, Aowo*! 
 
 Depose him from his regal government. ^ 
 
 Bru. Pope Julius swore to princely SigistiKftid{^ 
 For him, and the succeeding Popes of Rome,; iO 
 To hold the Emperor their lawful lords. ' f 
 
 Pope, Pope Julius did abuse the church's riteS^ 
 And therefore none of his decrees can stand. ^^^A 
 Is not all power on earth bestow'd on us?* -^ ba/^ 
 And therefore tho' we would we cannot eWv^ftt'V^ 
 Behold this silver belt, whereto is fix'd ^^'^ b[0 
 Seven golden seals, fast seal'd with seven seals, ^ 
 In token of our seven-fold power from heavedi'iil 
 To bind or loose, lock fast, condemn or judges '^^^ 
 Resign or seal, or what so pleaseth us: ^ ^ 
 
 Then he and thou, and all the world jshuU stoop,
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 43k' 
 
 Or be assured of our dreadful curse, % 
 
 To light as heavy as the pains of hell. 
 
 Enter Faustus and Mephostophilis, like the 
 Cardinals. 
 
 Meph. Now tell me, Faustus, are we not fitted 
 
 well? fiiioiurkfi Riii m liwo-q jsov ^//oijj oH 
 
 Faust, Yes, Mepbosto, and two such Cardinals! 
 Ne'er serv'd a holy Pope, as we shall do. 
 But whilst they sleep within the consistory. 
 Let us salute his reverend fatherhood. ,,/^ 
 
 Ray. Behold, my lord, the Cardinals are re- 
 turn'd. 
 
 Pope, Welcome, grave fathers ; answer presently 
 What ha,ve our holy council there decreediv/ -biiA 
 Concerning Bruno and the Emperor, ,j ^mb&^iY 
 In quittance of their late conspiracy, A-itxii biiA 
 Against our state and papal dignity? .^^ w.^^f o<^ 
 
 Faust. Most sacred patron of the church, i^ 
 
 By full consent of all the synod, i .q^,^ ^^^^ 
 Of priest and prelates, it is thus decreed ijiid to j 
 That Bruno, and the German Emperor, k>ii ol 
 Be held as Lollards and bold schismatics, ^<^><\ 
 And proud disturbers of the church's peace: -* 
 And if that Bruno, by his own assent, ^on f\ 
 
 Without enforcement of the German Pe^iafti bo A 
 Did seek to wear the triple diadem, rr (Hod i? 
 And by your death to climb St. Peter's chair, [ 
 The statutes decretal have thus decreed: rAot al 
 He shall be straight condemn'd of heresy, r, f 
 
 And on a pile of faggots burnt to death. .,il 
 
 ^jP^SI^i; It is enough; here, take him to, youi* 
 charge.
 
 46 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 And bear hiai straight to PoDto Angelo, 
 And in tlie strongest tower inclose him fast : 
 To-morrow, sitting in our consistory. 
 With all our college of grave Cardinals, 
 We will determine of his life or death. i^ 
 
 Here take his triple crown along with yoii, ^ 
 And leave it in the church's treasury. I' 
 
 Make haste, again, my good Lord Cardinals, 
 And take our blessing apostolical. ' 
 
 Meph. So, so; was never devil thus bless'd 
 before. ' ^nrr rf:* ' '!><W 
 
 Faust. Away, sweet Mephostophilis, begone ; 
 The Cardinals will be plagu'd for this anon. 
 
 \^Exit Faust, and Mepho. 
 
 Pope. Go presently and bring a banquet forth^ 
 That we may solemnize St. Peter's feast, *^ 
 
 And with Lord Raymond, King of Hungary^ '*| 
 Drink to our late and happy victory. [Exeunt/^ 
 
 T 
 
 A Senet * while the Hanquet is brought in ; and 
 then enter Faustus and Mephostophilis, 4n 
 their oivn Shapes. 
 
 ^M^ph. No\y, Faustus, come, prepare thyself 
 
 .^^,,^ for mirth; 
 The sleepy Cardinals are hard at hand. 
 To censure Bruno, that is posted hence, 
 And on a proud pac'd steed, as swift as thought, 
 Flies o'er the Alps to fruitful Germany, 
 There to salute the woeful Emperor. |^ .Wi-\ 
 
 * This word is variously spelt, sennet, signate, cyuet; and in 
 the old copies of this play it is found sometimes seuit, at others 
 sinet ; it is supposed to mean a flourish df trumpets. The edit, 
 of 1663, reads " sonnet." di tj --.'"' <
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 49 
 
 Faust. The Pope will curse them for their 
 sloth to day, "* 
 
 That slept both Bruno and his crown away. 
 But now, that Faustus may delight his mind, 
 And by their folly make some merriment, 
 Sweet Mephostophilis, so charm me here, 
 That I may walk invisible to all, , -^'f- 
 
 And do whate'er I please unseen of any. /i*t^ 
 
 Meph. Faustus, thou shalt; then kneel doMrft 
 presently, 
 Whilst on thy head I lay my hand, 
 And charm thee with this magic wand : **^^ ^ 
 First, wear this girdle, then appear 
 Invisible to all are here ; 
 The planets seven, the gloomy air, 
 Hell, and the Furies' forked hair ; 
 Pluto's blue fire, and Hecat's tree, 
 With magic spells so compass thee, 
 That no eye may thy body see. 
 So, Faustus, now for all their holiness, 
 Do what thou wilt, thou shalt not be discerned. 
 
 Faust. Thanks, Mephostophilis; now, Friars, 
 take heed. 
 Lest Faustus make your shaven crowns to bleed. 
 
 Meph. Faustus, no more : see where the Car- 
 dinals come. . ' ' 
 
 ErUer Pope and Lords ; then the Cardinals 
 {U iin w;YA a JSook. rt4 
 
 Pope. Welcome, Lord Cardinals; come, sit 
 down; 
 Lord Raymond, take your seat; Friars, att^i^d 
 And see that all things be in readiness, . -y, i, V /' 
 As best beseems this solemn festival. 
 
 VOL. I. 1$
 
 50 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 1 Card. First, may it please your sacred' ho- 
 liness, 
 To view the sentence of the reverend synod, 
 Concerning Bruno and the Emperor. ^^ 
 Pope, What needs this question ? Did I not 
 tell you, 
 To-morrow we would sit i' the consistory, i"^ 
 And there determine of his punishment ?>^ fWl 
 'You brought us word even now, it was decreed, 
 That Bruno, and the cursed Emperor, 
 Were by the holy council both condemn'd. 
 ^;For lothed Lollards, and base schismatics : 
 Then wherefore would you have me view that 
 book? 
 1 Card. Your grace mistakes, you gave us no 
 
 such charge. s^^vA 
 
 Ray, Deny it not; we all are witnesses \ 
 
 That Bruno here was late delivered you, u/^ 
 
 With his rich triple crown to be reserv'd, < 
 
 And put into the church's treasury, o rfi > 
 
 Both Card. By holy Paul we saw them not ! 
 . Pope. By Peter you shall die*, 
 Unless you bring them forth immediately ! 
 Hale them to prison, lade their limbs with gyves : 
 False prelates, for this hateful treachery, 
 Curs'd be your souls to hellish misery ! 
 jy jPaiist. So, they are safe; now, Faustus, to the 
 
 feast ; 
 The Pope had never such a frolic guest. 
 
 Pope. Lord Archbishop of Reames, sit down 
 ' ^h with us. ^^- * V 
 
 Sisb, I thank your holiness. aT(o O 
 
 /ai^^. Fall to, the Deyil choke yon^ lam^ou
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 51 
 
 Pope. Who's that spoke ? Friars look about. - 
 Lord Raymond pray fall to : I am beholden 
 To the Bishop of Millaine for this so rare a present. 
 Faust. I thank you, sir. 
 
 Pope. How now ! Who snatch'd the meat 
 from me? 
 Villains! why speak you not? [dish, 
 
 My good Lord Archbishop, here's a most dainty 
 Was sent me from a Cardinal in France. ' 
 
 Faust. I'll have that too ^ 
 
 Pope. What Lollards do attend our holiness. 
 That we receive such great indignity ? fetch me 
 some wine. ' #*< - * 
 
 Faust, Aye, pray do, for Faustus is a-dry. 
 Pope. Lord Raymond, I drink unto your grace. 
 * Faust. I pledge your grace. 
 
 Pope. My wine gone too! Ye lubbers look about 
 And find the man that doth this villany. 
 Or by our sanctitude you all shall die. 
 I pray, my lords, have patience at this trouble- 
 * ^0 f<M(feome banquet, r-"^ t^ ^^IavI' ^^o^ 
 
 Bish, Please it, your holiness; f think it be 
 some ghost crept out of purgatory, and now is 
 come unto your holiness for his pardon. 
 
 Pope. It may be so. inlidt^gM 
 
 Go then, command our priests to sing a dirge, 
 To lay the fury of this same troublesome ghost. 
 Faust. How now ! must every bit be spiced 
 with a cross ? - 
 
 ; Nay, then, take that. '^'^^'^ ^^ ^S*^"^ 
 
 Pope. O I am slain ! help me, my lords! 
 O come and help to bear my body hencel^'^*^ 
 Damn'd be his soul for ever for this deed! * 
 
 [^Exeunt Pope and his train. 
 e2
 
 52 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 Meph. Now, Fanstus, what will you do now ? 
 For I can tell you 
 You'll be curs'd with bell, book, and candle, a i 
 Faust. Bell, book, and candle ; candle, book, 
 and bell. 
 Forward and backward, to curse Faustus to hell. 
 
 Enter the Friars with Bell, Book, and Candle, 
 for the Dirge. tM^*^ 
 
 I "^ friar. Come, brethren, let's about our busi- 
 ness with good devotion. ^ ;^^ ^^^ u,^, 
 
 Cursed be he that stole his holiness meat from ^ 
 the table. . , , ., 
 
 Maledicat Dominus. iy\ j 
 
 Cursed be he that struck his holiness a blow on 
 
 ,.^,^ the face. -Aom^medi 
 
 Maledicat Dominits. 
 C^firsed be he that struck friar Sandelo a blow 
 ~-mcioJP the pate. H \^ ,^j. \^^^^k .:Wa 
 liiOf Ix^dJ^ ., Maledicat Dominus. ..^.;^ ^^ ^^^^ j-.. 
 Cursed be he that disturbeth our holy dirge. 
 
 Maledicat Dominus. , 
 
 Cursed be he that took away his holiness' wine. 
 rflou 8r b; Maledicat Dommus. ^^ ^ *^ 
 [They heat the Friars, fling Jire-works among 
 f, them, and exeunt. 
 
 j,.,^ Enter Clown and Dick, with a Cup. \[ 
 
 Dick. Sirrah! Robin! we were best look that 
 your devil can answer the stealing of this same 
 cup, for the Vintner's boy follows us at the hard 
 heels. " . . - \ 
 
 Mob. Tis no matter, let him come : an he fol-
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 5S 
 
 low US, I'll SO conjure him, as he was never con- 
 jured in his life, I warrant him : let me see the 
 cup. 
 
 Enter Vintner. 
 
 Dick. Here 'tis : yonder he comes. Now, 
 Robin, now or never show thy cunning. 
 
 Vint. Oh, are you here? I am glad I have 
 found you ; you are a couple of fine companions : 
 pray where's the cup you stole from the tavern? 
 
 Roh. How, how ! we steal a cup I take heed 
 what you say ; we look not like cup-stealers, I 
 can tell you. 
 
 Vint. Never deny 't, for I know you have it, 
 and I'll search you. 
 
 Rob. Search me? Aye, and spare not Hold 
 the cup, Dick Come, come, search me, search 
 me. 
 
 Vint. Come on, sirrah, let me search you now. 
 
 Dick. Aye, aye, do, do Hold the cup, Robin 
 I fear not your searching ; we scorn to steal your 
 cups, I can tell you. 
 
 Vint. Never out-face me for the matter; for 
 sure the cup is between you two. 
 
 Roh. Nay, there you lie, 'tis beyond us both. 
 
 Vint. A plague take you, I thought 'twas your 
 knavery to take it away : come, give it me 
 again. 
 
 Rob. Ah, much ! when, can you tell ? Dick, 
 make me a circle, and stand close at my back, 
 and stir not for thy life. Vintner, you shall have 
 your cup anon; say nothing, Dick : O per se O, 
 demigorgon ; Belcher and Mephostophilis !
 
 54 THE TRAGEDY Ot 
 
 Efiier Mephostophilis. 
 
 Meph. You princely legions of infernal rule, 
 How am I vexed by these villains' charms ! 
 From Constantinople have they brought me now, 
 Only for pleasure of these damned slaves. 
 
 JRoh. By lady, sir, you have had a shrewd 
 journey of it ! will it please you to take a shoulder 
 of mutton to supper, and a tester in your purse, 
 and go back again ? 
 
 Dick. Aye, I pray you heartily, sir; for' ^e 
 called you but in jest, I promise you. 
 
 Meph. To purge the rashness of this cursed 
 deed, li' 
 
 First, be thou turned to this ugly shape ; 
 For apish deeds transformed to an ape. 
 
 Roh. O brave ! an ape ! I pray, sir, let me 
 have the carrying of him about to show some 
 tricks. ^"^ " ' '/ 
 
 Meph. And so tnou ^nalt : ' be'fliou trarisfonn d 
 to a dog, and carry him upon thy back; away! 
 be gone ! -, 
 
 Roh. A dog ! That's excellent ! let the maids 
 look well to their porridge-pots, for I'll into the 
 kitchen presently : come, Dick, come. 
 
 [^Exeunt the two Clowns. 
 
 Meph. Now with the flames of ever-burning fire, 
 I'll wing myself, and forthwith fly amain 
 Unto my Faustus to the Great Turk's court. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Enter Marteno and Frederick at several doors. 
 
 Mart. What, ho ! ofiicers, gentlemen ! 
 Hie to the presence to attend the Emperor ; ,
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 5^ 
 
 Good Frederick, see the rooms be voided straight, 
 His majesty is coming to the hall; t 
 Go back, and see the state in readiness. 
 
 Fred. But where is Bruno, our elected Pope, 
 That on a fury's back came post from Rome? 
 Will not his Grace consort the Emperor? 
 
 Mart. O yes ; and with him comes the German 
 conjurer, 
 The learned Faustus, fame of Wittenberg ; 
 The wonder of the world for magic art : 
 And he intends to show great Carolus 
 The race of all his stout progenitors ; 
 .And bring in presence of his majesty. 
 The royal shapes, and warlike semblances. 
 Of Alexander and his beauteous paramour. 
 
 Fred. Where is Benvolio? , ., 
 
 Mart. Fast asleep, I warrant you ; 
 JHe took his rouse with stoops of Rhenish wine 
 So kindly yesternight to Bruno's health, ^^"^ 
 .That all this day the sluggard keeps his bed j^ ' 
 
 Fred. See, see his window's ope ! we'll call to 
 ^ him. 
 
 Mart. What, ho ! Benvolio ! 
 
 ii 
 
 "^ Enter Benvolio above, at a window, in bis Night- 
 cap: buttoning. i !^ilvU. 
 
 Benv. What a devil ails you two ? 
 
 Mart. Speak softly, sir, lest the devil hear you : 
 For Faustus at the court is late arriv'd, ' ' 
 
 And at his heels a thousand furies wait, ' ^- -' 
 To accomplish whatsoever the Doctor please. 
 
 Benv. What of this?^? \.., . .-,^.,^jj^ M-?^i^ 
 
 Mart. Come, leave thy chamber first, and , thou 
 shalt see ^
 
 6$ THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 This conjurer perfonn such rare exploits, ' i 
 
 Before the Pope and Royal Emperor, 
 
 As never yet was seen in Germany. [yet ? 
 
 Benv. Has not the Pope enough of conjuring 
 He was upon the devil's back late enougt^;^-/*. i 
 And if he be so far in love with him, < b'^ 
 
 I would he would post with him to Rome as'ain. 
 
 Fred. Speak, wilt thou come and see this sport ? 
 
 Benv. Not I. 
 
 Mart, Wilt thou stand in thy window, and 
 see it then? kI vtbI ifi/ 
 
 Benv. Aye, an I fall not asleep i' the mean 
 time. :-. -^ < 
 
 Mart. The Emperor is at hand, who eome^ 
 
 to see i ^ '>^''^ 
 
 What wonders by black spells may compass'd be. 
 
 Benv. Well, go you attend the Emperor : I 
 am content; for this once, to thrust my head out , 
 at a window : for they say, if a man be drunk t 
 over night, the devil cannot hurt him in the raoruHl 
 ing : if that be true, I have a charm in my head, 
 shall control him as well as the conjurer, I war- 
 rant you . [Exit. / ' 
 
 A Senet. Enter Charles, the German Emperor^-i 
 Bruno, Saxony, Faustus, Mephostophilis^^ 
 Frederick, Martino, and Attendants. 
 
 Emp. Wonder of men, renown'd magician, / 
 Thrice learned Faustus, welcome to our court 
 This deed of thine, in setting Bruno free 
 From his and our professed enemy, 
 Shall add more excellence unto thine art, "-i!, 
 Than if by powerful necromantic spells v ~ 
 
 Thou could'st command the world's obedience ;
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. ftt 
 
 3-<'or ever be belov'd of Carol us ; 
 
 And if this Bruno thou hast late redeemed, 
 
 In peace possess the triple diadem, 
 
 And sit in Peter's chair, despite of chance ; 
 
 Thou shalt be famous through all Italy, 
 
 And honour'd of the German Emperor. 
 
 Faust. These gracious words, most royal Ca- 
 rolus, 
 Shall make poor Faustus, to his utmost power, 
 Both love and serve the Gennan Emperor, 
 And lay his life at holy Bruno's feet : 
 For proof whereof, if so your Grace be pleas'd, 
 The Doctor stands prepared, by power of art. 
 To cast his magic charms, that shall pierce through 
 The ebon gates of ever-burning hell, 
 And hale the stubborn Furies from their caves, 
 J Ifo compass whatsoe'er your Grace commands. 
 ^JBenv. Blood, he speaks terribly! but for all 
 that, I do not greatly believe him ; he looks as 
 like a conjurer as the Pope to a coster-monger. 
 
 Emp. Then, Faustus, as thou late did'st pro- 
 mise us. 
 We would behold that famous conqueror. 
 Great Alexander and his paramour, 
 In their true shapes, and state majestical. 
 That we may wonder at their excellence. 
 
 Faust. Your majesty shall see them presently. 
 Mephostophilis, away; 
 
 And with a solemn noise of trumpets sound. 
 Present before this royal Emperor, 
 Great Alexander and his beauteous pafafii'dtlr. 
 
 Meph. Faustus, I will. 
 
 Benv. Well, Mr. Doctor, an your devils come 
 not away quickly, you shall have me asleep pre-
 
 S4 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 gently : zounds ! I could eat myself for auger, to 
 think I have been such an ass all this while, to 
 stand gaping after the devil's governor, and can 
 see nothing, i^ i -i > ^ 
 
 Faust. I'll make you feel something anon, i( 
 my art fail me not. /t 
 
 My lord, I must forewarn your majesty, 
 That when my spirits present the royal shapes 
 Of Alexander and his paramour, 
 Your grace demand no questions of the kingv;,^ ,. 
 But in dumb silence let them come and go. i 
 
 mp. Be it as Faustus please, we are content. 
 
 Senv. Aye, aye, and 1 am content too : an 
 thou bring Alexander and his paramour before 
 the Enap^orj, ni be Acteon, and turn myself (o a 
 
 Sta^:..tlAtftfS> V?M ,,;7'f 
 
 Faust. And I'll play Diana, and send you the 
 horns presently. , tijd W 5iv>i? 
 
 Senet. Enter at one Door the Emperor Alex- 
 ander, at the other Darivs; they meet ; Da- 
 rius is thrown down, Alexander kills him; 
 takes off his crown, and offering to go out, his 
 Paramour meets him; he emhraceth her, and 
 sets Darius' Crown upon her Head; and com- 
 ing back, both salute the Emperor, who leaving 
 his State, offers to embrace them ; which Faustus 
 seeing, suddenly stays him : then Trumpets cease, 
 and Mu^ic sounds. 
 
 My gracious lord, you do forget yourself, r^ 
 These are but shadows, not substantial. ' 
 
 Emp. O pardon me, my thoughts are soTayished 
 }Vith sight of this renowned Emperor,, , u^ ,, 
 iTThat in mine arms I would have compass'd him
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 99 
 
 But, Faustus, since, I may not speak to them, 
 To satisfy my longing thoughts at full. 
 Let me this tell thee : I have heard it said. 
 That this fair lady, whilst she liv'd on earth, 
 Had on her neck a little wart or mole ; 
 Now may I prove that saying to be true? 
 
 Faust. Your majesty may boldly go and sefe^? 
 
 Emp. Faustus, I see it plain ; 
 
 And in this sight thou better pleasest me, ^ 
 
 Than if I'd gain'd another monarchy. '<'^' 
 
 Faust. Away! begone! ^'^^'t** f^Exit shot&J 
 
 See, see, my gracious lord ! what strange beast 
 
 is yon, :ici 
 
 That thrust his head out at window ? ^- ^ " 
 ^ Emp. O wondrous sight ! see, Duke of Saxony, 
 Two spreading horns most strangely fastened^"^ 
 Upon the head of young Benvoliol> ^*^ 4*m'\ 
 Sax. What, is he asleep or dead?' ""^'^ ^w^od 
 Faust. He sleeps, my lord^ bij|t dreams not ^f 
 his horns. Xv .\ 
 
 Emp. This sport is excellent : we'll call and 
 'x wake him. 
 
 |^hat, ho ! Benvolio ! 
 
 ., Benv. A plague upon you, let me sleep awhile. 
 
 Emp. I blame thee not to sleep much, having 
 
 ^uch a head of thine own. ^,^^ ;^ I 
 
 Sax. Look up, Benvolio, 'tis the Emperor calls. 
 
 Benv. The Emperor ! where ? O, zounds, my 
 
 head I 
 
 Emp. Nay, an thy horns hold, 'tis no matter 
 for thy head, for that's arm'd sufficiently. 
 
 Faust. Why, how now. Sir Knight, what 
 hang'd by the horns ? This is most horrible : fie,
 
 dP THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 fie; pull in your head for shame ; let not all the 
 world wonder at you. ^ 
 
 Henv. Zounds, Doctor ! is this your villany ? 
 
 Faust. O say not so, sir : the Doctor has no skill, 
 No art, no cunning, to present these lords, 
 Or bring before this royal Emperor 
 The mighty monarch, warlike Alexander : 
 If Faustus do it, you are straight resolv'd 
 In bold Acteon's shape to turn a stag. 
 And therefore, my lord, so please your majesty, 
 I'll raise a kennel of hounds shall hunt him so, 
 As all his footmanship shall scarce prevail Vf^ 
 To keep his carcase from their bloody fangs. 
 Ho! Belimote, Argiron, Asterote! 
 
 Benv. Hold, hold ! zounds ! he'll raise up a 
 kennel of devils I think anon: good my lord 
 intreat for me ; 'sblood, I am never able to endure 
 these torments. xj-j/ij i. 
 
 Emp. Then, good Mr. Doctor, ' oiij' 
 Let me entreat you to remove his bornSjif 'jtM 
 He has done penance now sufficiently. J 
 
 Faust. My gracious lord ; not so much for in- 
 jury done to me, as to delight your majesty with 
 some mirth, hath Faustus justly requited this in- 
 jurious knight; which being all I desire, I am 
 content to remove his horns. Mephostophilis, 
 transform him ; and hereafter, sir, look you speak 
 well of scholars. 
 
 Benv. Speak well of ye? 'sblood, an scholars 
 be such cuckold-makers to clap horns on ho- 
 nest men's heads o' this order; I'll ne'er trust 
 smooth faces and small ruffs more. But an I 
 be not reveng'd for this, would I might be turned 
 * ' ; 8?i bDfi .b.;:
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. ^ 
 
 to a gaping oyster, and drink nothing but salt 
 water. 
 
 Emp. Come, Faustus, while the Emperor lives, 
 In recompense oi this thy high desert, 
 Thou shalt command the state of Germany, 
 And live belov'd of mighty Carolus. 
 
 T%brtfiir> .tflT'Vrt > [Exeunt omnes. 
 
 Enter Benvolio, Martixo, Frederick, and 
 Soldiers. 
 
 Mart. Nay, sweet Benvolio, let us sway thy 
 thoughts 
 From this attempt against the conjurer. 
 ^' Benv. Away, you love me not, to urge me thus ; 
 Shall I let slip so great an injury, 
 When every servile groom jests at my wrongs, 
 And in their rustic gambols proudly say, 
 Benvolio's head was grac'd with horns to-day ? 
 
 may these eyelids never close again, 
 
 Till with my sword I have that conjurer slain: 
 If you will aid me in this enterprise. 
 Then draw your weapons and be resolute; 
 If not, depart; here will Benvolio die, - , 
 
 But Faustus' death shall quit thy infamy. 
 
 Fred. Nay, we will stay with thee, betide 
 
 what may. 
 And kill that Doctor if he come this way. 
 
 Benv. Then, gentle Frederick, hie thee to the 
 
 grove, . ruffH-. id 
 
 And place our servants, and our followers. 
 Close in an ambush there behind the treeiljl^ 
 By this I know the conjurer is near, ',,Tf .(f 
 
 1 saw him kneel, a^d kiss the Emperor's hand.
 
 6b the tragedy of 
 
 And take his leave, laden with rich rewards ; 
 Then, soldiers, boldly light ; if Faustus die, 
 Take you the wealth, leave us the victory. 
 
 Fred. Come, soldiers, follow me unto the grove, 
 Who kills him shall have gold and endless love. 
 
 \^Exit Fred, with Soldiers. 
 Benv. My head is lighter than it was by th' 
 horns, 
 But yet my heart's more ponderous than my head, 
 And pants until 1 see that conjurer dead. 
 
 Mart. Where shall we place ourselves, Ben- 
 
 volio ? 
 Benv. Here will we stay to hide the first assault ; 
 O were that damned hell-hound but in place. 
 Thou soon shouldst see me quit my foul disgrace ! 
 
 iMut^ is-*'.. >' A^^Mi.ji 
 
 na lt*e ^/er Frederick, i'^ i^rsa^l 
 
 Fred. Close, close, the conjurer is at hand, 
 And all alone comes walking in his gown ; * _^ 
 Be ready then, and strike the peasant dowii. 
 
 Benv. Mine be that honour then : JPiow, sword, 
 strike home, \ 
 
 For horns he srave, I'll have his head anon.\, 
 
 Fjnter Faustus with a false Ueda. ,t 
 
 fRfig y "^ ^^^< 
 
 ^Mart. See, see, he comes. 
 Benv. No words : this blow ends all ; 
 Hell take his soul, his body thus must fall. 
 Faust. Oh! . 
 
 Fred. Groan you. Master Doctor? 
 ^ : Benv. Break may his heart with groans : dear 
 <f>- Frederick, see, 
 
 *Thus will I end his griefs immediately.
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. iS3 
 
 Marl. Strike with a willing hand, his head is off. 
 Benv. The devil's dead, the Furies now may 
 laugh. 
 ^^'f*Mfed. Was this that stern aspect, that awful 
 frown, 
 Made the grim monarch of infernal spirits 
 Tremble and quake at his commanding charms? 
 Mart. Was this that damned head, whose 
 art conspir'd "^ 
 
 Benvolio's shame before the Emperor? ^ 
 
 Benv. Aye, that's the head, and here the body 
 lies, 
 Justly rewarded for his villanies. * ' * 
 
 Fred. Come, let's devise how w^iitfty add 
 more shame '"^^ "tMi-jji<iC- 'oo* 
 
 To the black scandal of his hated name. 
 
 Benv. First, on his head, in quittance of my 
 wrongs, 
 I'll nail huge forked horns, and let them hang 
 .Within the window where he yok'd me first, 
 jThat all the world may see my just revenge. 
 Mart. What use shall we put his beard to ? 
 Benv. We'll sell it to a chinmey-sweeper ; it 
 will wear out ten birchen brooms, I warrant you. 
 Fred. What shall his eyes do ? 
 Benv. We'll put out his eyes ; and they shall 
 serve for buttons to his lips, to keep his tongue 
 from catching cold. 
 
 Mart. An excellent policy : and now, sirs, 
 having divided him, what shall the body do? 
 Benv. Zounds, the devil's alive again ! 
 Fred. Give him his head for God's sake. 
 Faust. Nay, keep it : Faustus will have heads 
 and hands, I H'^w ^i
 
 6f THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 I call your hearts to recompense this deed. 
 
 Knew you not, traitors, I was limited 
 
 For four-and-twenty years to breathe on earth ? 
 
 And had you cut my body with your swords, 
 
 Or hew'd this flesh and bones as small as sand. 
 
 Yet in a minute had my spirit return'd, 
 
 And I had breath'd a man, made free from harm. 
 
 But wherefore do I dally my revenge? 
 
 Asteroth, Belimoth, Mephostophilis ! 
 
 JBtiter Mephostophilis, and other Devils, 
 
 Go, horse these traitors on your fiery backs, 
 And mount aloft with them as high as heav'n ; 
 Thence pitch them headlong to the lowest hell : 
 Yet, stay, the world shall see their misery, 
 And hell shall after plague their treachery. 
 Go, Belimoth, and take this caitiff hence. 
 And hurl him in some lake of mud and dirt ; 
 Take thou this other, drag him through the woods 
 Amongst the pricking thorns and sharpest briers ; 
 Whilst with my gentle Mephostophilis, , .,., 
 This traitor flies unto some steepy rock, r-ri^. 
 That rolling down may break the villain's bones, 
 As he intended to dismember me. . . 
 
 Fly hence ! dispatch my charge immediately! 
 ' Fred. Pity us, gentle Faustus, save our lives I 
 Faust. Away ! ' ^1 
 
 Fred. He must needs go, that the devil dnves. 
 ^ [Exeunt Spirits with the Knights. 
 
 Enter the ambushed Soldiers. 
 
 1 Sold. Come, sirs, prepare yourselves in rea- 
 diness :
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 65 
 
 Make haste to help these noble gentlemen, 
 I heard them parley with the conjurer. 
 
 ^^old. See, where he comes; dispatch and 
 
 kill the slave. 
 Wtmst. What's here ? an ambush to betray my 
 life.! 
 Then, Faustus, try thy skill : base peasants, stand ! 
 For lo, these trees remove at my command, 
 And stand as bulwarks 'twixt yourselves and me, 
 To shield me from your hated treachery : 
 Yet U} encounter this your weak attempt, ^ 
 Behold an army comes incontinent. 
 
 [Fausttis strikes the door, and enter a Devil 
 ,^ playing on a drum, after him another 
 bearing an eiisign ; and divers with wea- 
 pons; Mephostophilis tvith fire-works; 
 they set upon the Soldiers and drive them 
 I out. 
 
 ibnter at several Doors, Benvolio, Frederick, 
 , ii? Martino, their Heads and Faces bloody^ 
 
 and besmeared with Mud and Dirt : all having 
 
 Horns on their Heads. 
 
 Mart. What, ho ! Benvolio ! 
 
 Senv. Here ; what, Frederick, ho ! 
 
 Fred. O help me, gentle friend; .where is 
 Martino ? ^ 
 
 Mart. Dear Frederick, here. 
 Half emother'd in a lake of mud and dirt, 
 Through which the Furies dragg'd me by the heels. 
 
 Fred. Martino, see itsJ? ^^^ 
 Benvolio's horns again. 
 
 Mmt. Oh, misery I how oow, Benvolio?'' 
 VOL. I. F 1^ mU
 
 66 THE TRAGEDY OP 
 
 ,^Menv. Defend me, heaven ! shall I be haunted 
 
 still? 
 ..Mart. Nay, fear not, man, we have no power 
 
 to kill. 
 fr.^B^nv. My friends transformed thus : oh, hellish 
 
 spite ! 
 .your heads are all set with horns. 
 
 Fred, You hit it right, 
 It is your own you mean ; feel on your head. 
 Senv, Zounds ! horns again ! 
 Mart. Nay, chafe not, man, we all are sped. 
 Menv. What devil attends this damn'd magician, 
 That spite of spite our wrongs are doubled ? 
 ^lifred. What may we do that we may hide our 
 ^,yjr shames? 
 
 i-^env. If we should follow him to work revenge, 
 He'd join long asses ears to these huge horns, 
 And make us laughing-stocks to all the world. 
 Mart. What shall we then do, dear Benvolio ? 
 Ulenv. I have a castFe joining near these woods, 
 And thither we'll repair, and live obscure, 
 Till time shall alter this our brutish shapes : 
 Sith black disgrace hath thus eclips'd our fame, 
 We'U rather die wi^ gi;ief than live with shame. 
 :iiti-^',>f<^\^,'>i^-^Ea;euntomnes.-^ 
 
 Enter Faustus, and the Horse-courser, and 
 Mephostophilis. 
 
 Horse. I beseech your worship accept of these 
 forty dollars. 
 
 Faust. Friend, thou canst not buy so good a 
 horse for so small a price : I have no great need 
 to sell him, but if thou likest him for ten dollars
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 67 
 
 more, take him, because I see thou hast a good 
 mind to him. 
 
 Horse. I beseech yoii, sir, accept of this : I am 
 a very poor man, and have lost very mucli of late 
 by horse-flesh, and this bai^ain will set me up 
 again. 
 
 Faust, Well, I will not stand with thee ; give 
 me the money. Now, sirrah, I must tell you that 
 you may ride him o'er hedge and ditch, and spare 
 him not ; but, do you hear, in any case, ride him 
 not into the water. 
 
 * Horse. How, sir, not into the water? why, 
 will he not drink of all waters ? > '^^ j^ ^^'^^ 
 
 Faust. Yes; he will drink of ali At^teW,' Ibut 
 ride him not into the water; o'er hedge and 
 ditch, and where thou wilt, but not into the water. 
 Go, bid the hostler deliver him unto you, and re^- 
 member what I say. 
 
 Horse. I warrant you, sir; oh! joyful day: 
 now am I made a man for ever ! [Exit. 
 
 Faust. What art thou, Faustus, but a man con- 
 demn'dtodie? .:o:zis. / 
 
 Thy fatal time draws to a final end ; 
 Despair doth drive distrust into my thoughts, 
 Confound these passions with a quiet sleep : 
 Tush ! Christ did call the Thief upon the Cross ; 
 Then rest thee, Faustus, quiet in conceit. 
 
 [He sits to sleep. 
 
 J?w/6r ^/<e HoRSE-couRSER we^ )| 
 
 - Horse. Oh ! what a cozening Doctor was this ! 
 1^ riding my horse into the water, thinking some 
 hidden mystery had been in the horse, I had no- 
 
 f2
 
 6S= THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 thing under me but a little straw, and had much 
 ado to escape drowning. Well, I'll go rouse him, 
 and make him give me my forty dollars again. Ho ! 
 sirrah ! Doctor ! you cozening scab ! Master 
 Doctor, awake and rise, and give me my money 
 again; for your horse is turned to a bottle of 
 hay. Master Doctor! [He pulls off" his leg.] 
 Alas ! I am undone ! what shall I do ! I have 
 pulled off his leg. 
 
 Faust. Oh ! help, help, the villain hath mur- 
 dered me ! 
 
 Horse. Murder or not murder, now he has 
 but one leg I'll outrun him, and cast this leg into 
 some ditch or other. 
 
 Faust. Stop him ! stop him ! stop him ! ha, 
 ha, ha ! Faustus hath his leg again, and the Horse- 
 courser a bundle of hay for his forty dollars. 
 
 Enter Wagner. ' ^ 
 
 How now, Wagner, what news with thee? 
 
 Wag. If it please you, the Duke of Vanholt 
 doth earnestly entreat your company ; and hatl|^ 
 sent some of his men to attend you, with provi- 
 sion fit for your journey. 
 
 Faust. The Duke of Vanholt's an honourable 
 gentleman, and one to whom I must be no niggard 
 of my cunning : come, away. [JExeunt. 
 
 Enter Clown, Dick, Horse-courser, and 
 Carter. 
 
 Cart. 'Come, my masters, I'll bring you to the 
 best beer in Europe ; 
 What, ho ! hostess ! where be these whores ?
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 69 
 
 Enter Hostess. 
 
 Host. How now, what lack you ? What, my 
 old guests? welcome. 
 
 Clown. Sirrah! Dick! dost thou know why I 
 stand so mute? 
 
 Dick. No, Robin, why is't? 
 
 Cloivn. I am eighteen pence on the score ; but 
 say nothing : see if she has forgotten me. 
 
 Host. Who's this, that stands so solemnly by 
 himself? What, my old guest ? 
 
 Clown. O, hostess, how do you? I hope my 
 score stands still. 
 
 Host. Aye, there's no doubt of that ; for me- 
 thinks you make no haste to wipe it out. 
 
 Dick. Why, hostess, I say fetch us some beer. 
 
 Host. You shall presently : look up into the 
 hall there, ho ! * ''^' [Exit. 
 
 Dick. Come, sirs, what shall we do now till 
 mine hostess comes ? 
 
 Cart. Marry, sirs, I'll tell you the bravest tale 
 how a conjurer served me; you know Doctor 
 
 austus ? 
 
 Horse. Aye, a plague take him ; here's some 
 on's have cause to know him ; did he conjure 
 thee too ? 
 
 Cart. I'll tell you how he served me : as I was 
 going to Wittenberg t'other day, with a load of 
 hay, he met me, and asked me what he should 
 give me for as much hay as he could eat ; now, 
 sir, I thinking a little would serve his turn, bad 
 him take as much as he would for three far- 
 things ; so he presently gave me my money and 
 fell to eating; and as I am a cursen man, he
 
 70 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 never left eating till he had eat up all my load of 
 hay. 
 
 AIL Oh, monstrous ! eat a whole load of hay? 
 
 Clown. Yes, yes, that may be ; for I have 
 heard of one that has eat a load of logs. 
 
 Horse. Now, sirs, you shall hear how villain- 
 ously he served me : I went to him yesterday to 
 buy a horse of him, and he would by no means 
 sell him under forty dollars ; so, sir, because I 
 knew him to be such a horse as would nin over 
 hedge and ditch and never tire, I gave him his 
 ^oney ; so when I had my horse, Doctor Faustus 
 bad me ride him night and day, and spare him 
 no time ; but, quoth he, in any case, ride hira 
 not into the water : now, sir, I thinking the hoi'se 
 had had some quality that he would not have me 
 know of; what did I, but ride him into a great 
 yiver; and when I came just in the midst, my 
 horse vanished away, and I sat straddling upon a 
 bottle of hay. ' 
 
 " '"All. O brave Doctor! ^*^*^ 
 
 Horse. But you shall hear how bravely I served 
 
 Jiim for it; I went me home to his house, and 
 
 there I found him asleep ; I kept a hallooing and 
 
 whooping in his ears, but all could not wake 
 
 hhn : I seeing that, took him by the leg, and 
 
 never rested pulling till I had pulled me his leg 
 
 ^quite off; and now 'tis at home in mine hostry. 
 
 ^ Clown. And has the Doctor but one leg then? 
 
 That's excellent ! for one of his devils turn'd me 
 
 ijxto the likeness of an ape's face. ^,, .i,. ^ v 
 
 , Car/. fc>ome more drmk, hostess. 
 
 Ctown. Hark you, we'll into another room and 
 noY dr? mi^ % yfUnm i -t a n <"^ * n - '
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. %i 
 
 drink awhile, and then we'll go seek out the 
 Doctor. [Exeunt omnes. 
 
 Enter the Duke of Vanholt, his Duchess, 
 Faustus, and Mephostophilis. 
 
 Duke. Thanks, Master Doctor, for these plea- 
 sant sights; nor know I how sufl&ciently to re- 
 compense your great deserts in erecting that en- 
 chanted castle in the air : the sight whereof so 
 delighted me, as nothing in the world could please 
 me more. 
 
 Faust. I do think myself, my good lord, highly 
 recompensed in that it pleaseth your grace to 
 think but well of that which Faustus hath "per- 
 formed. But, gracious lady, it may be that you 
 have taken no pleasure in those sights; there- 
 fore, I pray you tell me, what is the thing you 
 most desire to have ; be it in the world, it 
 shall be yours : I have heard that great-bellied 
 women do long for things are rare and dainty. 
 
 Lady. True, Master Doctor ; and since I find 
 you so kind, I will make known unto you what 
 my heart desires to have; and were it now 
 summer as it is January, a dead time of the win- 
 ter, I would request no better meat than a dish 
 of ripe grapes. 
 
 Faust. This is but a small matter: go, Me- 
 phostophilis ; away ! [Exit Mephostophilis. ^^ Ma- 
 dam, I will do more than this for your con- 
 tent, .f 
 
 Enter Mephostophilis again, with the Grapes, 
 
 Here now, take ye these ; they should be good, 
 for they come from a far country, I can tell you.
 
 72 THE TRAGEDY OV 
 
 Duke. This makes me wonder more than all 
 the rest ; that at this time of the year, when every 
 tree is barren of his fruit, from whence you had 
 these ripe grapes. 
 
 Fmist. Please it, your grace, the year is divided 
 into two circles over the whole world ; so that 
 when it is winter with us, in the contrary circle 
 it is likewise summer with them ; as in India, 
 Saba, and such countries that lie far east, where 
 they have fruit twice a year ; from whence, by 
 means oi a swift spirit that I have, I had these 
 grapes brought as you see. \ 
 
 Lady. And trust me they are the sweetest 
 grapes that e'er I tasted. 
 
 (The Clown houncetli at the gate, within.) r^ 
 
 Duke. What rude disturbers have we at the. 
 gate ? 
 Go, pacify their fury, set it ope, 
 And then demand of them what they would 
 have. 
 
 (They knock again, and call out tg tqlk 
 with Faustus.) s, 
 
 A Serv. Why, how now, masters ; what a coil 
 is there; mijt r>i # .vt\J 
 
 What is the reason you disturb the Duke? 
 
 Dick. We have no reason for it, therefore a 
 fig for him. \V 
 
 Serv. Why, saucy varlets, dare you be so bold ? 
 
 Horse. I hope, sir, we have wit enough to be 
 more bold than welcome. 
 
 Serv. It appears so ; pray be bold elsewhere, 
 and trouble not the duke. 
 
 Duke. What would they have ?
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 73 
 
 Serv. They all cry out to speak with Doctor 
 Faustus. 
 
 Cart. Aye, and we will speak with him. 
 
 Duke. Will you, sir? Commit the rascals. 
 
 Dick. Commit with us ; he were as good com- 
 mit with his father as commit with us. 
 
 Fatist. I do beseech your Grace, let them 
 come in, 
 They are good subject for a merriment. 
 
 Duke. Do as thou wilt, Faustus, I give thee 
 leave. 
 
 Faust. I thank your Grace. 
 
 nter the Clown, Dick, Carter, atid Horse- 
 courser. 
 
 Why, how now, my good friends ? 
 
 Faith, you are too outrageous ; -but come near, 
 
 I have procur'd your pardons : welcome all. 
 
 Cloivn. Nay, sir, we will be welcome for 
 our money, and we will pay for what we takei 
 What, ho ! give's half a dozen of beer here, and be 
 hanged. 
 
 Faust. Nay, hark you, can you tell me where 
 you are ? * 
 
 Cart. Aye, marry, can I, we are under heaven. 
 
 Serv. Aye; but. Sir Sauce-box, know yoii. in 
 what place ? * 
 
 Horse. Aye, aye, the house is good enough to 
 drink in: zounds ! fill us some beer, or we'll 
 break all the ban-els in the house, and dash out 
 all your brains with your bottles. 
 
 Faust. Be not so furious ; come, you shall 
 have beer.
 
 74 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 My lord, beseech you give me leave awhile, 
 I'll gage my credit* 'twill content your Grace. 
 
 Duke. With all my heart, kind Doctor, please 
 thyself, i- 
 
 Our servants and our court's at thy command. 
 
 Faust. I humbly thank your Grace ; then fetch 
 some beer. 
 
 Horse. Ah, marry! there spake a Doctor, 
 indeed! and faith, I'll drink a health to thy 
 wooden leg for that word. 
 
 Faust, My wooden leg ! what dost thou mean 
 by that? ; r/vMJT fni> o mii atAiB^u 
 
 Cart. Ha, ha, ha! dost hear him, Dick?" he 
 has forgot his leg. 
 
 Horse. Aye, aye, he does not stand muchupon 
 that. ^ q * ! Kf -- ' > mui fti* 
 
 Faust. IVb, faith ; not much upon a wooden 
 leg. 
 
 Cart. Good Lord ! that flesh and blood should 
 be so frail with your worship ! Do not you re- 
 member a Horse-courser you sold a horse to ? 
 
 Faust. Yes, I remember I sold one a horse. 
 
 Cart. And do you remember you bid he 
 should not ride him into the water? r fr. - - 
 
 Faust. Yes, I do very well remember that* 
 
 Cart. And do you remember nothing of your 
 leg? 
 
 Faust. No, in good sooth. ' < 
 
 Cart. Then, I pray, remember your curtesie. 
 
 Faust. I thank you, sir. 
 
 Cart. 'Tis not so mnch worth : I pray you tell 
 me one thing. 
 
 Faust. What's that?
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 75 
 
 Carl. Be both yor legs bed-fdlovvs every 
 night ? 
 
 Faiist. Would'st thou make a Colossus of me, 
 that thou askest me such a question ? 
 
 Cart. No, truly, sir, I would make nothing of 
 you; but I would fain know that.* ii.x 
 
 , ^nter HojSTESS ivith drink. 
 
 Faust. Then, I assui'e thee, certainly they are. 
 Cart. I thank you, I am fully satisfied. 
 FaiLst. But wherefore dost thou ask? 
 : Cart. For nothing, sir ; but methiuks you 
 should have a wooden bed-fellow of one of 'em. 
 Horse. Why, do you hear, sir, did not I pull 
 off one of your legs when you were asleep? 
 n~iiFaiist. But I have it again now I am awake : 
 look you here, sir. 
 fr All. O homble ! had the Doctor three legs ? 
 
 Cart. Do you remember, sir, how you cozened 
 me, and eat up my load of 
 -SBTOii i\ '3iin j>io [^Faustas charms him dumb. 
 * J^ick. Do you remember how you made me 
 
 wear an ape's 
 
 Horse. You whoreson conjuring scab! do you 
 remehiber how you cozened with a ho * t !^> 
 
 Clown. Ha' you forgotten me? you think to 
 carry it away with your hey-passe and re-passe : 
 do you remember the dog's fe-*-^ ' V 
 
 ' ^iExeunt Clot&iis. 
 Host. Who pays for the ale? hear you, Mas- 
 ter Doctor ; now you have sent away my guests, 
 
 I pray who shall pay me for my a ^ 
 
 [Exit Hostess.
 
 7# THE TRAGEDY 6* 
 
 Lady, My lord, 
 
 We are much beholden to this learned mail^f ^^^ 
 
 Duke. So are we, madam; which we will re-' 
 
 compense * ''* 
 
 With all the love and kindness that we maf^* '' * 
 
 His artful sport drives all sad thoughts away.-*"* 
 
 \^Exeunt. 
 
 (Thunder and lightning.) Enter Devils withcO' 
 vered Dishes : Mephostophilis leads them into 
 Faustus's Study : then enter Wagner. \^45.<i' 
 
 Wag. I think my master means to die shortly ; 
 he has made his will, and given me his wealth, 
 his house, his goods, and store of golden plate; 
 besides two thousand ducats ready coined i -f ^ 
 wonder what he means ! If death were nigh, he 
 would not frolic thus : he's now at supper with 
 the scholars ; where there's such belly-cheer, asJ ' 
 Wagner in his life ne'er saw the like : and see ^ 
 where they come, belike the feast is done. [ccit. 
 
 Enter Faustus, Mephostophilis, atid two or 
 three Scholars. 
 
 1 Schol. Mister Doctor Faustus, since our 
 conference about fair ladies, which was the beau- 
 tifulest in all the world, we have determined with 
 ourselves, that Helen of Greece was the admir- 
 ablest lady that ever lived: therefore, Mister 
 Doctor, if you will do us so much favour as to 
 let us see that peerless dame of Greece, whom 
 all the world admires for majesty, we should 
 think ourselves much beholding unto you. 
 
 Faust. Gentlemen,'^* '^''^^ V*-f^. ^nioh. 
 For that I know your friendship is unfeigned, *' '
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 77 
 
 ft is not Faustus's custom to deny 
 
 The just request of those that wish him well : 
 
 You shall behold that peerless dame of Greece, 
 
 No otherwise for pomp or majesty, 
 
 Than when Sir Paris cross'd the seas with her, 
 
 And brought the spoils to rich Dardania : 
 
 Be silent then, for danger is in words. 
 
 (Music sounds, Mephostophilis bnngs in 
 Helen ; she passeth over the Stage.) 
 
 2 Scho. Was this fair Helen, whose admired 
 
 worth 
 Made Greece with ten years war afflict poor Troy ? 
 
 3 Scho. Too simple is my wit to tell her worth. 
 Whom all the world admires for majesty. 
 
 I Scho. Now we have seen the pride of Na- 
 ture's work. 
 We'll take our leave ; and for this blessed sight, 
 Happy and bless'd be Faustus evermore. 
 
 [xemit Scholars. 
 Faust. Gentlemen, farewell : the same I wish 
 to you. 
 
 "'* Enter an Old Man. 
 Old Man. O, gentle Faustus ! leave this damned 
 
 This magic, that will charm thy soul to hell ; 
 And quite bereave thee of salvation. 
 Though thou hast now offended like a man,. 
 Do not persever in it like a devil : 
 Yet, yet, thou hast an amiable soul, 
 If sin by custom grow not into nature; 
 Then, Faustus, will repentance come too late; 
 Then thou art baoish'd from the sight of heav'n ;
 
 78 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 No mortal can express the pains of hell. 
 
 It may be this my exhortation 
 
 Seems harsh, and all unpleasant; Ifetit not; 
 
 For, gentle son, I speak it not in wrath, 
 
 Or envy of thee, but in tender love 
 
 And pity of thy future misery; 
 
 And so have hope that this my kind rebuke, 
 
 Checking thy body, may amend thy soul. 
 
 Faust. Where art thou, Faustus ?' wretch ! what 
 hast thou done ? 
 ' ' \Mephostophilis gives him a dagger. 
 Hell claims his right, and with a roaring voice 
 Says, *' Faustus, come, thine hour is almost come ;" 
 And Faustus now will come to do thee right. 
 
 Old Man. Oh ! stay, good Faustus, stay thy^ 
 desperate steps ;''^ ^ tix^i^r rl^w^tXM t^ sr I 
 I see an angel hover o'er thy head, iftwv^Tk 
 
 And with a vial full of precious grace, ^ 
 Offers to pour the same into thy soul;^'^^ J^^'?^ ^*^ 
 Then call for mercy, and avoid despair. ' ^ ^^^' 
 
 Fatist. O friend ! I feel thy words to comfort 
 my distressed soul ; '^'^' 
 
 Leave me awhile to ponder on my sins. 
 
 Old Man. Faustus, I leave thee, but with grief 
 ^* %f heart, '*^^ ""^^ ^^^*^^' *^ ii*ffr .At^^v" 
 Fearing the enemy of thy hapless soul. [Exit. 
 
 Faust. Accursed Faustus! wretch! what hasf' 
 thou done? ,^ , -i 
 
 I do repent, and yet I do despair;*'*'^***^* 
 Hell strives witji grace for conquest in my breast. 
 What shall I do to shun the snares of death ? 
 
 Meph. Thou traitor, Faustus ! I arrest thy soul. 
 For disobedience to my sovereign lord ; 
 Revolt, or I'll in piecemeal tear thy flesh. <-i,-^'-^
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 79 
 
 Faust, I do repent I e'er offended him ; 
 Sweet Mephostophilis, intreat thy lord 
 To pardon my unjust presumption, 
 And with my blood again I will confirm 
 The former vow I made to Lucifer. 
 
 Meph. Do it then, Faustus, with unfeigned 
 heart. 
 Lest greater dangers do attend thy drift *. 
 
 Faust. Torment, sweet friend, that base and 
 aged man, 
 That durst dissuade me from thy Lucifer, 
 With greatest torments that our hell affords. 
 Meph. His faith is great ; I cannot touch his 
 soul ; 
 But what I may afflict his body with 
 I will attempt, which is but little worth. 
 
 Faust. One thing, good servant, let me crave 
 of thee, I r ^mi^rhHl 
 
 To glut the longing of my heart's desirer 
 That I may have unto my paramour. 
 That heavenly Helen which I saw of late, \ 
 Whose sweet embraces may extinguish clear 
 Those thoughts that do dissuade me from my vow, 
 And keep ray vow I made to Lucifer. 
 Meph. This, or what else my Faustus shall 
 desire,^^ ''4^^i*^vpr r?* ^.> ^.-^^ .' 
 
 Shall be perform'd in twinkling of an eye. 
 
 Enter Helen again^ passing over between two 
 , . ^ Cupids. V 
 
 Faust. Was this the face that launched a thou- 
 sand ships, iitiuti '/f ; 
 
 * Both in the edit, of 1616 and 1624, this speech is given to 
 Faustus. 1; t; . i' .., . .. ;;.
 
 ^ THE TRACk9iy^#f 
 
 And burnt the topless towers of Ilidm? ^'^^ 
 Sweet ^^H, naakeme immortal with a kis8t\T 
 Her lips suck forth, ray soul I see where it flres ; 
 pome, Helen> come, give me my soul again, lUoU 
 Here will I dwell, for heav'n is in these i^s. 
 And all is dross that is nofc Helena^ , t; ^noo iH 
 I will be Paris, and for love of thee,irny a J*)V'fl 
 Instead of Troy shall Wittenberg be $ack'4>(> oT 
 A&d I will combat with weak Menelaus^i,^jrt rIH 
 And wear thy colours on my plumed cnetlr<B 3H 
 Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel^utoo diofi 
 And then return to Helen for a kiss t oTorfw d98 
 Oh ! thou art fairer than the evening air, 
 Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars ; 
 Bafighter art thou than flaming J uipiteri," \tms\ 
 When he appear'd to hapless Semelel^ jaob woH 
 More lovely than the Monarch of the sky?^^ 
 In wanton Arethusa's azure arms ; llii ni ^.A 
 
 And nonebjitihim^^J^jai^timiSiDia^ vVi 
 
 *' i'jf - v; v^*^ ... _ ' [Exeunt. 
 
 8HAJ0H3O a^V l^i^iML 
 
 Moer.) J^nter Lucifer, Belzebub, at 
 
 T f^ MePHOSTOPHILIS. -ryr -i . 
 
 Luci. Thus from infernal D^ do we aseel^id^, -! 
 To view the subjects of our monarcfa^ .iwtiiT*! 
 Those souls, which sin seals the 6fiitck SO^^of 
 1 b- hell, 3 ^ 
 
 'Mong which, as chief, Faustus we come to thee; 
 Btltiglfig with us lasting damnatioa/d i tsd oddT 
 To wait tfpoft thy soul; the time is eemiw rJlood 
 >Vlwc^iakes it forfeit. ,v. .o^tH^ t 
 
 Meph. And this gloomy night, ^ "real aidl 
 
 Here, in this room, will wretched Faustua heiv
 
 DOCTOR PAUSTUS. 81 
 
 Belz. And here we'll stay, 
 To mark bini how he doth demean himself. 
 
 Meph. How should he but in desperate lunacy ! 
 Fond worlding! now his heart-blood dries with 
 
 grief; 
 His conscience kills it, and his labouring brain 
 Begets a world of idle phantasies. 
 To over-reach the devil, hut all in vain ; ^ 
 
 His store of pleasures must be sauc'd with pain. 
 He, and his servant Wagner, are at hand ; 
 Both come from drawing Faustus' latest will. 
 See where they come. 
 
 Enter Faustus and Wagneil,|j ,,^ ^,5., . 
 
 Faust. Say, Wagner, thou hastperus*d tny wiHi 
 How dost thou like it? 
 
 fVag. Sir, so wondrous well. 
 As in all humble duty I do yield fi^ 
 My life and lasting service for your love. *- i>i i 
 
 Enter the Scholars. 
 
 Faust. Gramarcy, Wagner! welcome, gentle- 
 men. 
 
 1 Scho. Now, worthy Faustus, methinks your 
 looks are changed. 
 
 FatLst, Oh! gentlemen. 
 
 2 Scho. What ails Faustus? nv* 4 
 Faust. Ah, my sweet chamber-fellow ! had I 
 
 liv'd with thee, 
 Then had I lived still, but now must die eternally. 
 Look, sirs, comes he not? Comes he not? 
 
 1 Scko. O, my dear Faustus, what imports 
 this fear ? 
 
 VOL. I.. ;&i..JS'-l tv^iJ G
 
 82 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 2 Scho. Is all our pleasure turned to melan- 
 choly? t' 
 
 3 Scho. He is not well with being over solitary. 
 '2 Scho. If it be so, we'll have physicians, and 
 
 Fanstus shall be cured. 
 
 3 Scho. 'Tis but a surfeit, sir ; fear nothing. 
 
 Faust, A surfeit of a deadly sin, that hath 
 damned both body and soul. '^*> rt oi 
 
 2 Scho. Yet, Fanstus, look up to heaven^ aii#. 
 remember mercy is infinite. i *! 
 
 Faust. But Fanstus' offence can ne'er be pai>' 
 doned; the serpent that tempted Eve may be 
 saved, but not Faustus. Oh, gentlemen ! hear me 
 with patience, and tremble not at my speeches. 
 Though my heart pant and quiver to remem- 
 ber that I have been a student here these thifty 
 years ; oh ! would I had never seen Witten- 
 berg, never read book! And what wonders I 
 have done, all Germany can witness, yea, all 
 the world: for which, Faustus hath lost both 
 Germany and the world ; yea, heaven itself; 
 heaven, the seat of God, the throne of the bless- 
 ed, the kingdom of joy, and must remain in hell 
 for ever. Hell ! O hell, for ever ! Sweet friends, 
 what shall become of Faustus, being ia hell for 
 ever? ni'rri -j - rnne^H ititt^^ ifhy- . 
 
 2 Scho. Yet, Faustus, ca^ll on God./ \?> v\ 
 
 Fa^^t. On God, whom Faustus hath abjured? 
 On God, whom Faustus hath blasphemed ? Oh, 
 my^God, I wolild \feep, but the detil draws in 
 my tears! Gush forth blood instead of tears! 
 yea^ life and soul.-^Oh ^ he stays my tongwe'l^I 
 
 ,1)1 ^ili'
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 8# 
 
 woiild lift up my hands ; but see, they hold 'em ! 
 they hold 'em ! 
 
 All. Who, Faustus ? 
 
 Faust. Why, Lucifer and Mephostophilis. Oh, 
 gentlemen ! I gave them my soul for my cunning. 
 
 All. Oh ! God forbid ! 
 
 Faust. God forbad it, indeed; but Faustus 
 hath done it ; for the vain pleasure of four-and- 
 twenty years hath Faustus lost eternal joy and 
 felicity. I writ them a bill with mine own blood ; 
 the date is expired -, this is the time, and he will 
 fetch me. 
 
 1 Scho. Why did not Faustus tell us of this 
 before, that Divines might hare prayed for thee ? 
 
 Faust. Oft have I thought to have done so; 
 but the devil threatened to tear me in pieces if I 
 naitid God ; to fetch me body and soid, if I once 
 gave ear to divinity; and now 'tis too late. Gen- 
 tlemen, away, lest you perish with me. 
 
 2 Scho. Oh ! what may we do to save Faustus ? 
 Fofust. Talk not of me, but save yourselves and 
 
 depart. ' to ^ii 
 
 3 Sc/io. God will strengthen me; I will stay 
 with Faustus. 1 
 
 1 Scho. Tempt not God, sweet friend, but let 
 us into the next room and pray for him. 
 
 Faust. Aye, pray for me, pray for me ; and 
 what noise soever you hear, come not unto me, 
 for nothing can rescue me. 
 
 2 Sc/to. Pray thou, and we will pray that God 
 may have mercy upon thea 
 
 Fmsst. Gentlemen, farewell; if Hive till morn- 
 ing, I'll visit you ; if not, Faustus is gone to hell. 
 All. Faustus, farewell. [Exeunt Scholars.
 
 tA THE TRAGBDY OF 
 
 Meph. Ah, Faustus, b^w thou hast no hope of 
 
 Therefore despair, think only upon hell;< t;>4 I 
 For that must l> thy mansion there to tlwdSi u 
 ^^^ffff^L Oh, thoji bewitching fiend! 'twasb th^ 
 
 ^^mptatioftt 'n(j '' ? ]iiujhi bn/ 
 
 Hath robb'd me of eternal happiness. (^ w^ JMiA 
 
 Meph. I do confess it, Faustus, and rejoice ' 
 
 'Twas I, that when thou wert i' the way to hav'i^' 
 
 Dam'd up thy passage ; when thou took'st the 
 
 book jK iaCL 
 
 To view the Scriptures, then I turn'd the leaves, 
 And led thine eye. i 
 
 What, weep'st thou ! 'tis too late, despair ! Far* 
 
 .well! -lO 
 
 Fools that will laugh on earth must weep in helUs' 
 
 Enter the Goop and Bad Angels, at several . 
 
 ^ ^ffood Ang. Oh ! Faustus, if thou hadst given 
 ear to me, , a 
 
 Ipnumerable joys had followed thee ; . lyl 
 
 But thou didst love the world. ^>j$)V 
 
 fiad Ang. Gave ear to me, iwjVV 
 
 And now must taste hell's pains perpetually. 
 Qf(^^ Aj^. 0\i\ w|^at,iyill.ail.tl^y riches, pdea4 
 sures, pomps^ .',i>,i;f;H ,e:iiij -ivn-ii \ ,,;, biiA 
 Avail thee nQw?;!/joo'j m Halm^iX iu,a) ih?/ nsdT 
 
 Bad Angi Nothing but vex thee more, 
 To want in hell that had on earth such storeilL 
 ^ Qi [rMf^iiQ whm thfi throne dmcendiiYi 
 ^^'^^^l^^^fl^^t^UjI^tiostcelestialJiappintefl^. 
 Pleasures unspeakable, bliss without end !
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. %B 
 
 Hadst tbou affected sweet divinity. 
 
 Hell or the devil had had no power on thee: 
 
 Hadst thou kept on that way, Faustus, behold 
 
 In what resplendent glory thou hadst set 
 
 In yonder throne, like those bright shining saints. 
 
 And triumph'd over hell ; that hast thou lost : 
 
 And now (poor soul !) must thy good angel leave 
 
 thee ; 
 The jaws of hell are open to receive thee. [!xit. 
 (Hell is discovered.) 
 
 Sad Ang. Now, Faustus, let thine eyes with 
 liorror stare 
 Into that vast perpetual torture-house^-*-^ -^ "'^- 
 There are the furies tossing damned souls ' ''^ 
 On burning forks ; their bodies boil in lead : 
 There are^^live quarters broiling on the coal, ! p^ 
 That ke'er can die ; this ever-burning chair , J' 
 Is for o'er-tortur'd souls to rest them ii^^ * a 
 ThWe fifai are fed with sops of flaming fire, 
 Were gluttons, and lov'd only delicates, 
 AndJaagh'd to^ see the poor starve at their gates; 
 But yet all these are nothing; thou shalt see 
 Ten thousand tortures that more horrid be. *- 
 
 Faust. Oh! 1 have seen enough to torture me^lf 
 
 Bad Ang. Nay, thou must feel thena, taste the 
 viftttiPijOf allf|t^q d'Uafi ^t*i>'J taoOT wofl hnii 
 He that loves pleasure, must for pleasure fall : 
 And so I leave thee, Faustus, till anon; 
 Then wilt thou tremble in confusion. \Exi(S' 
 ,'y\ (^Fhe clock strikes eleven.) '^ ^^'*^ - 
 
 Fornix Ohy Fanstnsh nm; j^uj lt>n lu ins^ oT 
 No^ hast thou but one bare hoor to live, 
 .^Laikit^a4boii mmt be daniu'd perpe^d^^^^
 
 86 THE TRAGEDY OF 
 
 Stand still you ever-moving spheres of heat'n, 
 That time "may cease, and midnight never come. 
 Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again, and make i 
 Perpetual day ; or let this hour be but a year, ^^ 
 A month, a week, a natural day, '^ 
 
 That Faustus may repent and save his s6u\.*^f^ 
 O lente lente currite noctis equif oi^O 
 
 The stars move still, time runs, the clock wilP 
 
 strike, ^ 
 
 The devil will come, and Faustus must be damn'di 
 Oh, I'll leap up to heav'n ! Who pulls me down ? 
 See where Christ's blood streams in the firmai 
 
 ment*: ^ 
 
 One drop of blood will save me: oh, my Chri&tt>. 
 Rend not my heart for naming of my Christ ; '^ 
 Yet will I call on him. Oh, spare me, Lueifer!^ 
 Where is it now? 'tis gone! ''^ * ^ t^ 
 And see, a threatening arm, an aiigty brow. 
 Mountains and hil^, come, come, and fall on me,^ 
 And hide me from the heavy wrath of heav'n !*' *^ 
 No ! Theii will I headlong run into the earth : ' 
 Gape, earth ! O no, it will not harbour me. 
 You stars that reign'd at my nativity. 
 Whose influence hath allotted death and hell, 
 Now draw up Faustus, like a foggy mist. 
 Into the entrails of yon labouring cloud;'" 
 That when you vomit forth into the air, ^^ *' 
 My limbs may issue from your smoky mouths ; 
 But let my soul mount and ascend to heav'n. 
 
 (The watch strikes.) 
 Oh ! half the hour is past : 'twill all be past anon* 
 
 '' This whole line is omitted in the edit. 1610,'* ^^"?-
 
 DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 87 
 
 Oh ! if my soul must suffer for my sin, 
 
 Impose some end to my incessant pain. 
 
 Let Faustus live in hell a thousand years, < 
 
 A hundred thousand, and at last be sav'd : 
 
 No end is limited to damned souls. 
 
 Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul ? 
 
 Or why is this immortal that thou hast ? 
 
 Oh ! Pythagoras, Metemsycosis ! were that true. 
 
 This soul should fly from me, and I be chang'd 
 
 Into some brutish beast. 
 
 All beasts are happy, for when they die 
 
 Their souls are soon dissolv'd in elements ; 
 
 But mine must live still to be plagu'd in hell. 
 
 Cwrs'd be the parents that engender'd me ! 
 
 No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer, 
 
 That hath depriv'd thee of the joys of heav'n. 
 
 (2^ he clock strikes twelve.) 
 It strikes, it strikes ! now, body, turn to air, 
 Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell. 
 O soul ! be chang'd into small water-drops, , 
 And fall into the ocean ; ne'er be found. 
 
 (Thunder.) Enter the Devils. 
 
 Oh ! mercy, heav'n, look not so fierce on me! ,^, 
 Adders and serpents, let me breathe awhile ! . 
 Ugly hell, gape not ! Come not, Lucifer ! 
 I'll bum my books ! Oh, Mephostophilis ! 
 
 \ Exeunt. 
 
 . , . r . ^nter the Scholars. ^ 
 
 1 Scho. Come, gentlemen, let us go visit Faustus, 
 For such a dreadful night was never seen 
 Since first the world's creation did begin ; 
 Such fearful shrieks and cries were never heard ; 
 Pray heaven the Doctor have escap'd the danger.
 
 88 ' THE TRAGEDY, &C. 
 
 2 Scho. Oh, hel[> ns, heavens! see, here are 
 
 Faustus' limbs, v 
 
 All torn asunder by the hand of death. I 
 
 3 Scho. The devils whom Faustus serv'd have 
 
 torn him thus ; 
 For tv^ixt the hours of twelve and one, methought 
 I heard him shriek and cry aloud for help ; 
 At which self-time the house seem'd all on fire, 
 With dreadful horror of these damned fiends. 
 2 Scho. Well, gentlemen, though Faustus' ead 
 
 be such 
 As every christian heart laments to think on; % 
 Yet, for he was a scholar once admir'd 
 For wondrous knowledge in our German schools. 
 We'll give his mangled limbs due burial; 
 And all the students, clothed in mourning black. 
 Shall wait upon his heavy funeral. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Chorus. 
 
 Cut is the branch that might have grown full 
 
 straight, 
 And burned is Apollo's laurel bough, 
 That sometime grew within this learned man : 
 Faustus is gone : regard his hellish fall, 
 Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise. 
 Only to wonder at unlawful things ; 
 Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits, 
 To practice more than heavenly power permits. 
 
 Terminat hora diem, termtjiat Author opus. 
 
 WHXTTU4QUAU and BOWLANO, Printers, GoxraU Street,
 
 LUST'S DOMINION; 
 
 ;no^iii/il oj dJO'^ot 
 T^H^ LASCIVIOUS QUEEN: 
 
 TRAGEDI^ 
 
 98fw 9iil iioix3 ^%m 9ctto^ Ivltbui^ imk 
 
 VOL f""^^ 'Tipsvai^' .-^iplf.^UkniKMitMKAaaKiriwtr
 
 If the multiplicity of editions may be considered the 
 criterion of public opinion, Faustus ranked considerably 
 above this play, in the estimation of our ancestors; it 
 was called for early, and went through five editions be- 
 fore 1663 ; whereas LusVs Dominion was not published 
 till 1657, upwards of sixty years after the decease of its 
 author. In particular passages, and some whole scenes, 
 Faustus has great beauties ; but it must have been prin- 
 cipally indebted for its success, to the superstitious igno- 
 rance of the times ; Lusfs Dominion is a much better 
 play : it was altered by Mrs. Behn, and performed at the 
 Duke of York's Theatre in 1671, under the title of Ab- 
 delazar ; and probably furnished hints for the admirable 
 tragedy of The Revenge. But, notwithstanding the luxu- 
 riance of imagery in the first scenes, the exquisite delicacy 
 of the language that is throughout given to Maria, and 
 the great beauty of parts, " it has too much of King 
 Camhyses' vein ; rape, and murder, and superlatives ;" 
 and if the stage be intended as a portraiture of real 
 character, such representations tend only to excite a 
 disgust and abhorrence of human nature : with the ex- 
 ception of the innocent Maria, the fiery Philip, Isabella, 
 Alvero, and Hortenzo, there is not one with whom our 
 feelings hold communion. The open representation of 
 the devil in Faustus is less offensive than the introduc- 
 tion of him here in the garb of a Moor : but the philan- 
 tropy of our ancestors was not shocked at any repre- 
 sentation of an African or an Israelite. 
 
 h2
 
 DRAMATIS PERSON^: 
 
 Eleazar, the Moor, Prince of Fesse and Barbary. 
 
 Philip, King of Spain; Father to Fernando, Philip, and Isabella. 
 
 Fernando, King of Spain, | g^^^ ^^ ^^^. 
 
 Philip, Prince of Spain, 3 
 
 Alvero, a Nobleman, and Father-in-Law to Eleazar, and Father 
 
 to Hortenzo and Maria. 
 Mendoza, the Cardinal. 
 
 Christofero, 7 ^^^ Noblemen of Spain. 
 Rodengo, j 
 
 Hortenzo, Lover to Isabella, and Son to Alvero. 
 Zarack, 7 
 ar, J 
 
 . two Moors attending Eleazar. 
 Baltazar 
 
 ^^^l' I two Friars. 
 Crab, J 
 
 Emmanuel, King of Portugal. 
 
 Captain, Soldiers, cum aliis. 
 
 Two Pages attending the Queen. 
 
 The Queen Mother of Spain, and Wife to King Philip. 
 
 Isabella, the Infanta of Spain. 
 
 Maria, Wife to Eleazar, and Daughter to Alvero. 
 
 The Scene, Spain.
 
 LUST'S DOMINION; 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 LASCIVIOUS QUEEN. 
 
 ACT. I. Scene I. 
 
 Enter Zarack, Baltazar, two Moors, taking 
 Tobacco ; Music sounding within: 6w/cr Queen 
 Mother or ^vki^ivith two Pages : Eleazar, 
 sitting on a Chair, suddenly draws the Curtain*, 
 
 Eleaz. On me does music spend this sound ! 
 on me, 
 That hate all unity ! ah ! Zarack, Baltazar ! 
 Qu. Mo. My gracious lord. 
 Eleaz. Are you there with your beagles ! hark, 
 you slaves! 
 Did not I bind you on your lives to watch, 
 That none disturbed us ? 
 Qu. Mo. Gentle Eleazar. 
 Eleaz. There, off: is't you that deaf me with 
 
 this noise? [^Exeunt two Moors. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Why is my love's aspect so grim and 
 horrid ? 
 Look smoothly on me ; 
 Chime out your softest strains of harmony, 
 
 * The curtains, in front of the old theatres, divided in the 
 middle, and was drawn to the sides : but it may save further 
 explanation to add here, that, " beside the principal curtain 
 they sometimes used others as substitutes for scenes." 
 
 MALONE.
 
 94 lust's dominion : 
 
 And on delicious music's silken wings 
 Send ravishing delight to my love's ears, 
 That he may be enamoured of your tunes. 
 Come, let's kiss. 
 
 Eleaz. Away, away ! 
 
 Qu. Mo. No, no, says aye ; and twice away, says 
 stay: 
 4Come, come, I'll have a kiss ; but, if you strive, 
 For one denial, you shall forfeit five. 
 
 Eleaz. Nay, prithee, good queen, leave me ; 
 I am now sick, heavy, and dull as lead. 
 
 Qu, Mo. I'll make thee lighter by taking some- 
 thing from thee. 
 
 Eleaz. Do: take from me this ague, and these 
 fits; 
 That, hanging on me. 
 Shake me in pieces, and set all my blood 
 A boiling with the fire of rage ; away, away ! 
 Thou believ'st I jest, ^ 
 
 X And laugh'st to see my wrath wear antic shapes : 
 Begone, begone ! 
 
 Qu. Mo. What means my love ? 
 Burst all those wires ; burn all those instruments ; 
 For they displease my Moor. Art thou now 
 
 pleas'd? 
 Or wert thou now disturb'd? I'll wage all Spain, 
 To one sweet kiss, this is some new device 
 To make me fond and long. Oh ! you men 
 Have tricks to make poor women die for you. 
 
 Eleaz. What, die for me? away! 
 
 Qu. Mo. Away, what way? I prithee speak 
 more kindly ; 
 Why dost thou frown? at whom? 
 
 Eleaz. At thee.
 
 A TRAGEDY. 95 
 
 Qu. Mo. At me ! 
 Oh ! why at me ? For each contracted frown, 
 A crooked wrinkle interlines my brow : 
 Spend but one hour in frowns, and I shall look 
 Like to a beldam of one hundred years. 
 I prithee speak to me, and chide me not. 
 I prithee, chide, if I have done amiss ; 
 But let my punishment be this, and this ; [Kiss. 
 I prithee, smile on me, if but awhile. 
 Then frown on me, I'll die : I prithee smile. 
 Smile on me, and these two wanton boys. 
 These pretty lads that do attend on me, 
 Shall call thee Jove, shall wait upon thy cup. 
 And fill thee nectar : their enticing eyes 
 Shall serve as crystal, wherein thou may'st see 
 To dress thyself, if thou wilt smile on me. 
 Smile on me, and with coronets of pearl. 
 And bells of gold, circling their pretty arms. 
 In a round ivory fount these two shall swim, 
 And dive to make thee sport : 
 Bestow one smile, one little little smile. 
 And in a net of twisted silk and gold 
 In my all-naked arms thyself shalt lie. 
 
 Eleaz. Why, what to do? Lust's arms do 
 stretch so wide 
 That none can fill them : I'll lay there, away ! 
 
 Qu. Mo. Where hast thou learn'd this lan- 
 guage, that can say 
 No more but two rude words ? away, away. 
 Am I grown ugly now ? 
 
 Mleaz. Ugly as hell. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Thou lov'dst me once. 
 
 Eleaz, That can thy bastards tell.
 
 96 lust's dominion: 
 
 Qu. Mo. What is my sin ? I will amend the same. 
 
 Eleaz. Hence, strumpet ! use of sin makes thee 
 past shame. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Strumpet ! 
 
 Eleaz. Aye, strumpet. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Too true 'tis, woe is me ; 
 I am a strumpet, but made so by thee. 
 
 Eleaz. By me! 
 No no, by these young bawds : fetch thee a glass, 
 And thou shalt see the balls of both thine eyes 
 Burning in fire of lust. By me ! there's here 
 Within this hollow cistern of thy breast, 
 A spring of hot blood : have not I to cool it 
 Made an extraction to the quintessence, 
 Even of my soul ; melted all my spirits, 
 Ravish'd my youth, deflqur d my lovely cheeks, 
 And dried this, this, to an anatomy, 
 Only to feed your lust ? (these boys have ears,) 
 Ye^ wouldst thou murder me. 
 
 Qu. Mo. I murder thee i 
 
 Eleaz. I cannot ride through the Castilian 
 streets, 
 But thousand eyes, through windows and through 
 doors,' i .jTtv h^^/ 
 
 Throw killing looks at me; and every slave 
 At Eleazar darts a finger out. 
 And every hissing tongue cries, " There's the 
 
 Moor; 
 That's he that makes a cuckold of our king; 
 There goes the minion of the Spanish queen ; 
 That's the black prince of devils ; there goes he. 
 That on smooth boys, on masks, and revellings, 
 Spend the revenues ;[)f the King of Spain."
 
 A TRAGEDY. W 
 
 Who arms this many headed beast, but you ? 
 Murder and lust are twins, and both are thine. 
 Being weary of me, thou wouldst worry me, 
 Because some new love makes thee loathe thine 
 old. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Eleazer. 
 
 JSleaz. Harlot, I'll not hear thee speak. 
 
 Qu. Mo. I'll kill myself unless thou hear'st me 
 speak. 
 My husband-king upon his death-bed lies, 
 Yet have I stol'n from him to look on thee : 
 A queen hath made herself thy concubine, 
 Yet dost thou now abhor me ; hear me speak. 
 Else shall my sons plague thy adult'rous wrongs, 
 And tread upon thy heart for murd'ring me : 
 This tongue hath murder'd me. Cry murder, boys. 
 
 2 1^01/s. Murder ! the queen's murder'd ! 
 
 Eleaz. Love ! slaves, peace ! 
 
 2 Boys. Murder ! the queen's murder'd ! 
 
 Eleaz. Stop your throats ! 
 Hark 1 hush, you squaller. Dear love, look up : 
 Our chamber- window stares into the court. 
 And every wide-mouth'd ear, hearing this news, 
 Will give alarum to the cuckold king : 
 I did dissemble when I chid my love. 
 And that dissembling was to try my love. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Thou call'dst me strumpet. 
 
 Eleaz. I'll tear out my tongue 
 From this black temple for blaspheming thee. 
 
 Qu. Mo. And when I woo'd thee but to smile 
 on me, 
 Them cry'dstaway, away, andfrown'dst upon me. 
 
 Eleaz. Come, 
 Now I'll kiss thee; now I'll smile upon thee;
 
 98 lust's dominion : 
 
 Call to thy ashy cheeks their wonted red ; 
 Come, frown not, pout not ; smile, smile upon me, 
 And with my poniard will I stab my flesh, ' 
 
 And quaff carouses to thee of my blood ; 
 "Whilst, in moist nectar kisses, thou dost pledge 
 
 me. 
 How now, why star'st thou thus ? 
 
 (Knock.) Enter Zarack. 
 
 Zar. The king is dead ! ^ 
 
 Eleaz. Ah ! dead ! 
 You hear this? Is't true, is't true ? The king dead ! 
 Who dare knock thus? 
 
 Zar. It is the cardinal, 
 Making inquiry if the queen were here. 
 
 Eleaz. See, she's here, tell him ; and yet, Za- 
 rack, stay. 
 
 Enter Baltazar. 
 
 Ealtaz. Don Roderigo's come to seek the 
 
 queen. 
 Eleaz. Why should Roderigo seek her here ? 
 Ealtaz. The king hath s wounded thrice; and 
 being recovered, 
 Sends up and down the court to seek her grace. 
 Eleaz. The king was dead with you. Run, 
 and with a voice. 
 Erected high as mine, say thus, thus threaten. 
 To Roderigo and the cardinal : 
 Seek no queens here, I'll broach them if they do 
 Upon my falchion's point : [^Knock again. 
 
 Again ! more knocking ! 
 
 Zar, Your father is at hand, my gracious lord.
 
 A TRAGEDY. 90 
 
 Eleaz Lock all the chambers, bar him out, 
 you apes : 
 Hither, a vengeance ! stir Eugenia, 
 You know your okl walk under ground ; away ! 
 So down, hie to the king ; quick, quick, you squalls, 
 Crawl with your dam i' th' dark ; dear love, fare- 
 well ; 
 One day I hope to shut you up in hell. 
 
 [leazar shuts them in. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Enter Alvero. 
 
 Alv. Son Eleazar, saw you not the queen ? 
 
 Eleaz. Hah! 
 
 Alv. Was not the queen here with you? 
 
 Eleaz. Queen with me ! 
 Because, my lord, I'm married to your daughter, 
 You, like your daughter, will grow jealous : 
 The queen with me ! with me, a Moor, a devil, 
 A slave of Barbary, a dog ; for so 
 Your silken courtiers christen me : but, father, 
 Although my flesh be tawny, in my veins 
 Runs blood as red, as royal, as the best 
 And proudest in Spain ; there does, old man. 
 My father, who with his empire lost his life. 
 And left me captive to a Spanish tyrant ; 
 Oh! 
 
 Go tell him, Spanish tyrant ; tell him, do. 
 He that can lose a kingdom, and not rave, 
 He's a tame jade; I am not : tell old Philip 
 I call him tyrant ; here's a sword and arms, 
 A heart, a head, and so, pish 'tis but death.
 
 1 
 
 IW ' lust's dominion : 
 
 Old fellow, she's not here : but ere I die, 
 Sword, I'll bequeath thee a rich legacy. 
 
 Alv. Watch fitter hours to think on wrongs 
 than now ; 
 ^ Death's frozen hand holds royal Philip's heart ; 
 Half of his body lies within a grave ; 
 Then do not now by quarrels shake that state. 
 Which is already too much ruinate. 
 Come, and take leave of him before he die. 
 
 [Exit, 
 
 JEleaz. I'll follow you. Now purple villany, 
 Sit like a robe imperial on my back. 
 That under thee I closelier may contrive 
 V My vengeance ; foul deeds hid, do sweetly thrive* 
 Mischief erect thy throne and sit in state. 
 Here, here upon this head ; let fools fear fate, 
 Thus I defy my stars : I care not, I, 
 How low I tumble down, so I mount high : 
 Old Time, I'll wait bare-headed at thy heels, ( 
 And be a foot-boy to thy winged hours ; 
 They shall not tell one minute out in sands, 
 But I'll set down the number ; I'll still wake 
 And waste these balls of sight, by tossing them 
 In busy observations upon thee. 
 Sweet opportunity ! I'll bind myself 
 To thee in base apprenticehood so long, 
 Till on thy naked scalp grow hair as thick 
 As mine, and all hands shall lay hold on thee, 
 If thou wilt lend me but thy rusty scythe, 
 To cut down all that stand within my wrongs 
 And my revenge. Love, dance in twenty forms 
 Upon my beauty, that this Spanish dame 
 May be bewitch'd and doat; her amorous flames 
 Shall blow up the old king, consume his sons, 
 
 J
 
 A TRAGEDY. 101 
 
 And make all Spain a bonfire. 
 
 This tragedy being acted, hers doth begin ; 
 
 To shed a harlots blood can be no sin. [Exit. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 T^he Curtain being draivn, there appears in his 
 Bed King Philip, with his Lords; the Prin- 
 cess Isabella at the Feet, Mendoza, Alvero, 
 HoRTENZO, Fernando, Roderigo; and to 
 them enter Queen in haste. 
 
 Qii. Mo. Whose was that screech-owl's voice, 
 that, like the sound 
 Of a hell-tortur'd soul, rung through mine ears 
 Nothing but horrid shrieks, nothing but death ? 
 Whilst I, vailing my knees to the cold earth. 
 Drowning my withered cheeks in my warm tears, 
 And stretching out my arms to pull from heaven 
 Health for the royal majesty of Spain, i\\\u v>ij. 
 All cried, the majesty of Spain is dead ! 
 That last word, dead, struck through , the echo- 
 ing air, Hy> v.HTic- .' >: 
 Rebounded on my heart, and smote me down 
 Breathless to the cold earth, and made me leave 
 My prayers for Philip's life; but, thanks to 
 
 heaven, ; , 
 
 I see him live, and lives, I hope, to see 
 Unnumber'd years to guide this empery. 
 
 K. Phil. The number of my years ends in one 
 day: 
 Ere this sun's down, all a king's glory sets, 
 For all our lives are but death counterfeits. .5/
 
 102 lust's dominion: 
 
 Father Mendoza, and you peers of Spain, 
 Dry your wet eyes ; for sorrow wanteth force, 
 T' inspire a breathing soul in a dead corse ; 
 Such is your king. Where's Isabel our daughter ? 
 Mend. At your bed's feet, confounded in her 
 
 tears. 
 K. Phil. She of your grief the heaviest bur- 
 then bears ; 
 You can but lose a king, but she a father. 
 
 Qu. Mo. She bear the heaviest burthen ! Oh ! 
 say rather 
 I bear, and am borne down ; my sorrowing 
 Is for a husband's loss, loss of a king. 
 
 K. Phil. No more. Alvero, call the princess 
 
 hither. 
 Alv. Madam, his majesty doth call for you. 
 K. Phil. Come hither, Isabella, reach a hand, . 
 Yet now it shall not need : instead of thine. 
 Death, shoving thee back, clasps his hands in 
 
 mine, 
 And bids me come away : I must, I must, 
 Though kings be gods on earth, they turn to dust. 
 Is not Prince Philip come from Portugal ? 
 JR.od. The prince, as yet, is not return'd, my 
 
 lord. 
 K. Phil. Commend me to him if I ne'er be- 
 hold him. 
 This tells the order of my funeral ; 
 Do it as 'tis set down ; embalm my body; 
 Though worms do make no difference of flesh, 
 Yet kings are curious here to dig their graves ; 
 Such is man's frailty : when I am embalm'd, 
 Apparel me in a rich royal robe. 
 According to the custom of the land f
 
 A TRAGEDY. 103 
 
 Then place my bones within that brazen shrine, 
 Which death hath builded for my ancestors ; 
 I cannot name death, but he straight steps in, 
 And pulls me by the arm. 
 
 Fern. His grace doth faint, 
 Help me, my lords, softly to raise him up. 
 
 Enter Eleazar, and stands sadly hy. 
 
 K, Phil. Lift me not. up, I shortly must go 
 down. 
 When a few dribbling minutes have run out, 
 Mine hour's ended. King of Spain farewell; 
 You all acknowledge him your sovereign ? 
 All. When you are dead we will acknowledge 
 
 him. 
 K. Phil. Govern this kingdom well ; to be a 
 king 
 Is given to many ; but to govern well. 
 Granted to few. Have care to Isabel, 
 Her virtue was King Philip's looking-glass ; 
 Reverence the queen your mother; love your 
 
 sister. 
 And the young prince your brother : even that 
 
 day, 
 When Spain shall solemnize my obsequies, 
 And lay me up in earth, let them crown you. 
 Where's Eleazar, Don Alvero's son? 
 
 Fern. Yonder, with cross'd arms, stands he 
 
 malcontent. 
 K. Phil. I do commend him to thee for a man 
 Both wise and warlike ; yet beware of him : 
 y Ambition wings his spirit ; I keep him down ; 
 What will not men attempt to win a crown?
 
 104 LUST S DOMINION : 
 
 Mendoza is protector of thy realm, 
 I did elect liim for his gravity ; 
 I trust he'll be a father to thy youth. 
 Call help, Feruando, now I faiut indeed. 
 
 Fern. My lords ! 
 
 K, Phil. Let none with a distracted voice I 
 Shriek out, and trouble me in my departure. 
 y Heaven's hands I see are beckoning for my soul ; 
 I come, I come ; thus do the proudest die ; 
 Death hath no mercy, life no certainty. [7>i*. 
 
 Mend. As yet his soul's not from her temple 
 gone, 
 Therefore forbear loud lamentation. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Oh ! he's dead, he's dead ! lament 
 and die ; 
 In her king's end begins Spain's misery. 
 
 Isa. He shall not end so soon. Father, dear 
 father ! 
 
 Fern. Forbear, sweet Isabella, shrieks are vain. 
 
 Isa. You cry forbear; you, by his loss of breath. 
 Have won a kingdom, you may cry forbear : 
 But I have lost a father and a king, 
 And no tongue shall control my sorrowing. 
 
 Horten. Whither, good Isabella ? 
 
 Isa. I will go 
 Where I will languish in eternal woe. 
 
 Horten. Nay, gentle love. 
 
 Isa. Talk not of love to me, 
 The world and the world's pride henceforth I'll 
 scorn. [Exit. 
 
 Horten. My love shall follow thee ; if thou 
 deny'st 
 To live with poor Hortenzo as his wife, 
 I'll never change my love, but change my life.
 
 A TRAGEDY. 10$ 
 
 Enter Philip hastily. * 
 
 Phil. I know he is not dead ; I know proud 
 death 
 Durst not behold such sacred majesty. 
 Why stand you thus distracted ? Mother, brother, 
 My Lord Mendoza, where's my royal father ? 
 
 Qu. ilf (9. Here lies the temple of his royal soul. 7 ^ 
 
 Fern. Here's all that's left of Philip's majesty ; 
 Wash you his tomb with tears, Fernando's moan, 
 Hating a partner, shall be spent alone. [Exit. 
 
 Phil. Oh, happy father ! miserable son ! 
 Philip is gone to joy, Philip's forlorn. 
 He dies to live, my life with woe is torn. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Sweet son. 
 
 Phil. Sweet mother: Oh! how I now do shame 
 To lay on one so foul, so fair a name : 
 Had you been a true mother, a true wife, 
 This king had not so soon been robb'd of life. 
 
 Qu. Mo. What means this rage, my son? 
 
 Phil. Call not me your son. 
 My father, whilst he liv'd, tir'd his strong arms 
 In bearing christian armour 'gainst the Turks, 
 And spent his brains in warlike stratagems. 
 To bring confusion on damn'd infidels : 
 Whilst you, that snorted here at home, betray'd 
 His name to everlasting infamy ; 
 Whilst you at home, suffer'd his bed-chamber 
 To be a brothelry ; whilst you at home, 
 Suffer'd his queen to be a concubine, 
 And wanton red-cheek'd boys to be her bawds ; 
 Whilst she, reeking in that letcher's arms 
 
 Eleaz. Me J 
 
 VOL.1. I
 
 106 lust's dominion : 
 
 Phil. Villain, 'tis thee ; 
 Thou hell-begotten fiend ; at thee I stare. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Philip, thou art a villain to dishonour 
 
 me. 
 Phil. Mother, I am no villain : 'tis this villain 
 Dishonours you and me, dishonours Spain, 
 Dishonours all these lords ; this devil is he. 
 
 That 
 
 Eleaz. What ! oh, pardon me, I must throw off 
 All chains of duty wert thou ten kings sons ; 
 Had I as many souls as I have sins, 
 As this from hence, so they from this should fly, 
 In just revenge of this indignity. 
 
 Phil. Give way, or I'll make way upon your 
 
 bosoms. 
 Eleaz. Did my dear sovereign live, sirrah, that 
 
 tongue 
 
 Qu. Mo. Did but King Philip live, traitor, 
 
 rd tell 
 
 Phil. A tale that should rid both your souls 
 to hell. 
 Tell Philip's ghost, that Philip tells his queen. 
 That Philip's queen is a Moor's concubine ; 
 Did the king live, Td tell him how you two 
 Ripp'd up the entrails of his treasury, 
 With masks and antic revellings. 
 
 Eleaz.VioY^s insupportable! dost hear me, boy? 
 Qu. Mo, Stand you all still, and see me thus 
 
 trod down? 
 Phil. Stand you all still, yet let this devil 
 
 stand here ? 
 Mend. Forbear, sweet prince : Eleazar, I am 
 now 
 Protector to Fernando, King of Spain ;
 
 A TRAGEDY. 107 
 
 By that authority, and by consent 
 Of all these peers, I utterly deprive thee 
 Of all those royalties thou holdst in Spain. ^ 
 Qu. Mo. Cardinal, who lends thee this com- 
 mission ? * 
 Eleaz. Cardinal, I'll shorten thee by the h^ad 
 
 for this. 
 Phil. Forward, my lord, Mendoza damn the 
 
 fiend. 
 Eleaz. Princes of Spain, consent you to thi 
 
 pride ? 
 All. We do. 
 
 Qu. Mo. For what cause ? Let his faith be tried. 
 Mend. His treasons need no trial, they're too 
 plain. 
 Come not within the court, for if you do 
 To beg with Indian slaves I'll banish you. 
 
 [Exeunt all hut Alvero, Queen, and Eleazar. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 W JrQ li ^; *. q alii '1 i 1?^ J 
 
 Alv. Why should my son be banished ?H Tjg; . 
 
 idj mtj 
 
 Enter Maria.^,, ^^. ^,, ^^jq,p 
 
 Qu. Mo. Of that, dispute not now. AWet^f^^ 
 I'll to the king my son ; it shall be tried, ^*vji^ 
 If Castile's king can cool a cardinal's pride. *^ 
 [Exeunt Queeti and Alvero. 
 
 Eleaz. If I digest this gall oh! my Maria, 
 I am whipp'd, and rack'd, and torn upon the wheel 
 Of giddy fortune ; she, and hfer minions. 
 Have got me down, and treading on my bosom, 
 They cry, lie still : the cardinal, '^ '*^ '^' 
 
 I 2
 
 fdi lust's dominion : 
 
 (Oh ! rare) would bandy me away from Spain, 
 And banish me to beg ; ah ! beg with slaves. 
 
 Maria. Conquer with patience these indignities. 
 
 Eleaz. Patience ! ha, ha ! yes, yes, an honest 
 cardinal. 
 
 Maria. Yet smother the grief, and seek revenge. 
 
 Eleaz. Hah ! banish me ! s'foot, why say they do. 
 There's Portugal a good air, and France a fine 
 
 country, 
 Or Barbary rich, and has Moors ; the Turk 
 Pure devil, and alloWs enough to fat 
 The sides of villany, good living there ; 
 I can live there, and there, and there ; 
 Troth 'tis a villain can live any where. 
 But, say I go from hence, I leave behind me 
 A cardinal that will laugh ; I leave behind me 
 A Philip that will clap his hands for joy. 
 And dance levaltoes through the Castile court ; 
 But the deep'st wound of all is this, I leave 
 My wrongs, dishonours, and my discontents. 
 Oh ! unreveng'd ; my bed-rid enemies 
 Shall never be rais'd up by the strong physical 
 Curing of my sword ; therefore stay still ; 
 Many have hearts to strike, that dare not kill. 
 Leave me, Maria. Cardinal, this disgrace 
 Shall dye thy soul as inky as my face. 
 Pish! hence Maria. 
 
 Enter Alvero, 
 
 Maria. To the king I'll fly. 
 He shall revenge my lord's indignity. {Exit. 
 
 Alv. Mendoza woos the king to banish thee. 
 Startle thy wonted spirits, awake thy soul,
 
 A TRAGEDY. 109 
 
 And on thy resolution fasten wings, 
 Whose golden feathers may outstrip their hate. 
 Eleaz. I'll tie no golden feathers to my wings. 
 Alv. Shall they thus tread thee down, which 
 once were glad 
 To lacquey by thy conquering chariot wheels? 
 Eleaz. I care not, I can swallow more sour 
 
 wrongs. 
 Alv. If they triumph o'er thee, they'll spurn 
 
 me down. 
 Eleaz, Look spurn again. 
 Alv. What ice hath cool'd that fire, 
 Which sometimes made thy thoughts to heaven 
 
 aspire ? 
 This patience had not. wont to dwell with thee. 
 
 Enter Fernando and Maria. 
 
 Eleaz. 'Tis right, but now the world's chang'd 
 you see; 
 Though I seem dead to you, here lives a fire 
 No more, here comes the king and my Maria : 
 The Spaniard loves my wife, she swears to me 
 She's chaste as the white moon ; well, if she be ; 
 Well too if she be not, I care not I ; 
 I'll climb up by that love to dignity. 
 
 Fern. Thou woo'st me to revenge thy husband's 
 wrong, 
 I woo thy fair self not to wrong thyself; 
 Swear but to love me, and to thee I'll swear 
 To crown thy husband with a diadem. 
 
 Maria. Such love as I dare yield, I'll not deny. 
 
 Fern. When in the golden arms of majesty * 
 
 I am broke of; yonder thy husband stands; 
 I'll set him free if thou unite my bands;
 
 110. lust's DOMINION : 
 
 So much for that. Durst then the cardinal 
 Put on such insolence? tell me, fair madam, 
 Where's your most valiant husband ? 
 
 Eleaz. He sees me, and yet inquires for me. 
 
 Maria. Yonder, my lord. 
 
 Fern. Eleazar, I have in my breast writ down. 
 From her report, your late receiv'd disgrace ; 
 My father lov'd you dearly, so will f . 
 
 Eleaz. True, for my wife's sake. [Aside. 
 
 Fern. This indignity 
 Will I have interest in ; for being your king. 
 You shall perceive I'll curb my underling. 
 This morning is our coronation, 
 And father's funeral solemnized ; 
 Be present, step into your wonted place. 
 We'll gild your dim disgraces with our grace. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Eleaz I thank my sovereign, that you love my 
 wife; 
 I thank thee, wife, that thou wilt lock my head 
 Invsuch strong armour, to bear off all blows ; 
 Who dare say such wives are their husband's foes ? 
 Let's see now, by her falling I must rise ; 
 Cardinal, you die if the king bid me live; 
 Philip, you die, for railing at me ; proud lord, 
 
 you die. 
 That with Mendoza cry'd, banish the Moor. 
 And you, my loving liege, you're best sit fast. 
 If all these live not, you must die at lasWsif^ 
 
 >U 
 
 ^*\' fit
 
 A TRAGEDY. m 
 
 ACT II. Scene I. 
 
 Enter two Lords, Philip, Mendoza, Eleazar, 
 with him the King cf owned; Queen Mother, 
 Alvero, Zarack, Baltazar, and Attendants. 
 
 Mend. Why stares this devil thus, as if pale 
 death 
 Had made his eyes the dreadful messengers 
 To carry black destruction to the world ? 
 Was he not banish'd Spain ? 
 
 Phil. Your sacred mouth 
 
 Pronounc'd the sentence of his banishment; 
 Then spurn the villain forth. 
 
 Eleaz. Who spurns the Moor, 
 Were better set his foot upon the devil. 
 Do spurn me, and this confounding arm of vrratii 
 Shall, like a thunderbolt breaking the clouds, 
 Divide his body from his soul ! Stand back. 
 Spurn Eleazar! 
 
 Rod. Shall we bear this pride ? 
 
 Alv. Why not? he underwent much injury. 
 
 Mend. What injury have we perform'd, proud 
 lord? 
 
 Eleaz. Proud cardinal, my unjust banishment. 
 
 Mend. 'Twas we that did it, and our words 
 are laws. 
 
 King. HTwas we repeal'd him, and our words 
 are laws. 
 
 Zar. Bolt, If not, these are. 
 
 [All the Moors draw.
 
 112 lust's dominion; 
 
 Phil. How ! threaten'd and out-dar'd ! 
 
 King. Shall we give arm to hostile violence ? 
 Sheath your swords, sheath them, it's we command. 
 
 Eleaz. Grant Eleazar justice, my dread liege. 
 
 Metid. Eleazar hath had justice from our hands, 
 And he stands banish'd from the court of Spain. 
 
 King. Have you done justice? Why, Lord 
 Cardinal, 
 From whom do you derive authority 
 To banish him the court without our leave? 
 
 Mend. From this, the staff of our protector- 
 ship ; 
 From this, which the last will of your dead fathef 
 Committed to our trust ; from this high place. 
 Which lifts Mendoza's spirits beyond the pitch 
 
 Of ordinary honour, and from this 
 
 [King takes the staff from Mendoza'and 
 gives it to Eleazar. 
 
 King. Which too much over-weening insolence 
 Hath quite ta'en from thee. Eleazar up. 
 And from us sway this Staff of Regency. * 
 
 All. How's this! 
 
 Phil. Dare sons presume to break their father's 
 
 King. Dare subjects counter-check their sove- 
 reign's will ? 
 'Tis done, and who gainsays it is a traitor. 
 Phil. I do, Fernando, yet am I no traitor. 
 Mend. Fernando, I am wrong'd ; by Peter's 
 
 MendoaTa vows revenge. I'll lay aside 
 My cardinal's hat, and in a wall of steel. 
 The glorious livery of a soldier. 
 Fight for my late lost honour.
 
 A TRAGEDY. 113 
 
 King. Cardinal ! .t^ * ^ 
 
 Mend. King ! thou shalt be no king for wrong- 
 ing me. U' 
 The Pope shall send his bulls through all thy 
 
 realm, 
 And pull obedience from thy subjects' hearts, ^ 
 To put on armour of the Mother Church. 
 Curses shall fall like lightnings on thy head, 
 Bell, book, and candle, holy water, prayers. 
 Shall all chime vengeance to the court of Spain, 
 Till they have power to conjure down that fiend, 
 That damn'd Moor, that devil, that lucifer. 
 That dares aspire the staff the card'nal sway'd. 
 Eleaz. Ha ! ha ! ha ! I laugh yet, that the 
 
 cardinal's vext. 
 Phil. Laugh'st thou, base slave ! the wrinkles 
 of that scorn. 
 Thine own heart's blood shall fill. Brother, fare- 
 well; 
 Since you disprove the will our father left, i^aI^ 
 For base lust of a loathed concubine, r- iWi J.| . 
 Eleaz. Ha ! concubine ! who does Priiice Phi- 
 lip mean? 
 Phil. (To Eleaz.) Thy \v\ie.(To Ah.) Thy 
 daughter, base aspiring lords ; 
 Who to buy honour are content to sell 
 Your names to infamy, your souls to hell. 
 And stamp you now ? Do, do, for you shall see 
 I ^o for vengeance, and she'll come with me. 
 JEleaz. Stay, for she's here already, see, proud 
 
 boy. [They hoth draw. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Hold ! stay this fury ; if you long for 
 blood,
 
 114 lust's pominion : 
 
 Murder me first. Dear son, you are a king ; 
 Then stay the violent tempest of their wrath. 
 
 King. Shall kings be oversway 'din their desires? 
 
 Rod. Sliall subjects be oppress'd by tyranny ? 
 
 Qu. Mo. No state shall suffer wrong; then 
 oH/fcear me speak : 
 Mendoza, you have sworn you love the queen; 
 Then by that love 1 charge you leave these arms. 
 Eleazar, for those favours I have given you, 
 Embrace the cardinal, and be friends with him. 
 
 Eleaz. And have my wife call'd strumpet to 
 my face ! 
 
 Qu. Mo. (Aside to Eleazar.) 'Twas rage made 
 his tongue err ; do you not know 
 The violent love Mendoza bears the queen ? 
 Then speak him fair, for in that honied breath 
 I'll lay a bait shall train him to his death. 
 Come, come, I see your looks give way to peace ; 
 Lord Cardinal begin ; (aside) and for reward. 
 Ere this fair setting sun behold his bride ; 
 Be bold to challenge love, yet be denied. 
 
 Mend. (Aside.) That promise makes me 
 yield, my gracious lord, 
 Although my disgrace hath graven its memory 
 On every Spaniard's eye, yet shall the duty 
 I owe your sacred highness, and the love 
 My country challengeth, make me lay by 
 Hostile intendments, and return again 
 To the fair circle of obedience. 
 
 King. Both pardon and our favour bids you 
 welcome ; 
 And for some satisfaction for your wrongs. 
 We here create you Salamanca's Duke :
 
 A TRAGEDY. 116 
 
 But first, as a true sign all grudges die, 
 Shake hands with Eleazar, and be friends ; 
 This union pleaseth us. Now, brother Philip, 
 You are included in this league of love, 
 So is Roderigo. To forget all wrongs, 
 Your castle for a while shall bid us welcome; 
 Eleazar, shall it not? It is enough. 
 Lords, lead the way, (aside\ that whilst you feast 
 
 yourselves, 
 Fernando may find time all means to prove, 
 To compass fair Maria for our love. 
 
 [Exeunt omnes, . 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Queen Mother and Eleazar. 
 
 JEleaz. Madam, a word : now have you wit or 
 
 spirit ? 
 Qu. Mo. Both. 
 
 Eleaz. Set them both to a most gainful task. 
 Our enemies are in my castle-work. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Aye; but the king's there too; it's 
 / dangerous pride -^ 
 
 ' To strike at those that crouch by a lion's side. 
 Eleaz. Remove them. 
 Qu. Mo. How ? 
 
 Eleaz. How ! a thousand ways : 
 By poison, or by this : but every groom 
 Has skill in such base traffic ; no, our policies 
 Must look more strange, must fly with loftier 
 wings ; 
 i Vengeance the higher it falls more honour brings ; 
 But you are cold, you dare not do.
 
 1 16 lust's dominion : 
 
 Qu. Mo. I dare. 
 
 Eleaz. You have a woman's lieart; look youi 
 
 '- ^i'Jthis hand, 
 Oh ! 'tis too little to strike home. 
 
 Qu. Mo. At whom ? -^ 
 
 Eleaz. Your son. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Which son, the king ? 
 
 Eleaz. Angels of heaven, , ' 
 
 Stand like his guard about him ! how, the king I ' 
 Not for so many worlds as there be stars * 
 
 Sticking upon th' embroider'd iirmament. 
 The king ! he loves my wife, and should he die 
 I know none else would love her; let him live - 
 (Aside.) In heaven. Good Lord Philip 
 
 Qu. Mo. He shall die. 
 
 Eleaz. How? good, good. 
 
 Qu. Mo. By this hand. 
 
 Eleaz. When ? good, good ; when ? 
 
 Qu. Mo. This night, if Eleazar give consent. 
 
 Eleaz. Why, then, this night Philip shall not 
 live. 
 To see you kill him ! Is he not your son ? 
 A mother be the murd'rer of a brat 
 That liv'd within her ! hah ! 
 
 Qu. Mo. 'Tis for thy sake. 
 
 Eleaz. Pish ! What excuses cannot damn'd 
 sin make 
 To save itself! I know you love him well ; 
 But that he has an eye, an eye, an eye. 
 To others, our two hearts seem to be lock'd 
 Up in a case of steel ; upon our love, others 
 Dare not look ; or if they dare, they cast 
 jSquint, purblind glances ; who care though all 
 see all,
 
 A TRAGEDY. 117 
 
 So long* as none dare speak? But Philip 
 
 Knows that iron ribs of our villains 
 
 Are thin : he laughs to see them like this hand, 
 
 With chinks and crevices ; how a villainous, 
 
 A stabbing desperate tongue /the boy dare speak : 
 
 A mouth ! a villainous mouth ! let's muzzle him. 
 
 Qu. Mo. How ? 
 
 JEleaz. Thus: 
 Go you, and with a face well set, do 
 In good sad colours, such as paint out 
 The cheek of that fool penitence, and with a 
 
 tongue 
 Made clean and glib, cull from their lazy swarm 
 Some honest friars, whom that damnation gold 
 Can tempt to lay their souls to the stake. 
 Seek such, they are rank and thick. 
 
 Qu. Mo. What then? I know such, what's the 
 use ? ^ 
 
 JEleaz. This is excellent ! 
 Hire these to write books, preach, and proclaim 
 
 abroad. 
 That your son Philip is a bastard. 
 
 Qu. Mo. How ? 
 
 JEleaz. A bastard. Do you know a bastard ? 
 do't: 
 Say conscience spake with you, and cry'd outdo*t; 
 By this means shall you thrust him from all hope 
 Of wearing Castile's diadem, and that spur. 
 Galling his sides, he will fly out, and fling. 
 And grind the cardinal's heart to a new edge 
 Of discontent; from discontent grows treasoi]^ i 
 And on the stalk of treason, death: he's deaQ^il 
 By this blow and by you ; yet no blood she4;j/^ 
 Do't then ; by this trick he's gone.
 
 118 lust's DOMINION : 
 
 We stand more Sure in climbing high ; 
 Care not who fall, 'tis real policy : 
 Are you arm'd to do this ? hah ! 
 
 Qu, Mo. Sweet Moor, it's done. 
 
 Eleaz. Away then, work with boldness and 
 with speed, 
 y^ On greatest actions, greatest dangers feed : 
 
 [Exit Queen 3Iother, 
 Ha! ha! I thank thee, provident creation, ^ ''^ 
 That seeing in moulding me thou didst intend 
 I should prove villain ; thanks to thee and nature, 
 That skilful workman : thanks for my face !ti rf'^ 
 Thanks that I have not wit to blush ! ^^ 
 
 What, Zarack ! ho ! Baltazar ! ^ 
 
 t. 
 
 Enter the two Moors. 
 
 Both. My lord. 
 
 Eleaz. Nearer; so silence. 
 / Hang both your greedy ears upon my lips ; 
 ^Let them devour my speech, suck in my breath, 
 And in, who lets it break prison, here's his death : 
 This night the card'nal shall be murder'd. 
 
 Both. Where? 
 
 Eleaz. And to fill up a grave, Philip dies. 
 
 Both. Where? . 
 
 Eleaz. Here. 
 
 Both. By whom ? 
 
 Eleaz. By thee ; and, slave, by thee. 
 Have you hearts and hands to execute ? ' sds 
 
 Both. Here's both. ''H 
 
 1 3Ioor. He dies, were he my father. " * '^dT 
 
 Eleaz. Ho, away. ^'^ -^ 
 
 Stay ; go, go; stay ; see ine no more till night, '*^
 
 A TRAGEDY. MO 
 
 Your cheeks are black, let not your souls look 
 white. 
 
 Both. Till night? 
 
 Eleaz. Till night : a word ; the Mother Queen 
 Is trying if she can, with fire of gold. 
 Warp the green consciences of two covetous friars, 
 To preach abroad Philip's bastardy. 
 
 1 Moor. His bastardy ! who was his father? 
 
 Eleaz. Who? 
 Search for these friars, hire them to work with 
 
 you; 
 Their holy callings will approve the fact, 
 Most good and meritorious : sin shines clear, K 
 When her black face religion's mask doth weaf./ 
 Here comes the queen, good, and the friars. 
 
 Scene HI. 
 
 Enter two Friars, Crab and Cole, and Queen 
 Mother. 
 
 Cole. Your son a bastard ? say we do ; 
 But how then shall we deal with you ? 
 I tell you, as I said before, 
 His being a bastard, you are so poor 
 In honour and in name, that time 
 Can never take away the crime. 
 
 Qu. Mo. I grant that, friar ; yet, rather I'll 
 endure 
 The wound of infamy to kill my name, 
 Than to see Spain bleeding with civil swords. 
 The boy is proud, ambitious, he woos greatness; 
 He takes up Spanish hearts on trust, to pay them 
 When he shall finger Castile's crown. Oh ! then.
 
 I2f> lust's DOMINION : 
 
 Were it not better my disgrace were knourn^ 
 Than such a base aspirer fill the throne? 
 
 Cole. Ha ! brother Crab, what think you ? 
 
 Crab. As you, dear brother Cole. 
 
 Cole. Then we agree ; 
 Cole's judgment is as Crab's you see. 
 Lady, we swear to speak and write 
 What you please, so all go right. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Then, as we gave directions, spread 
 abroad 
 In Cadiz, Madrid, Granado, and Medyna, 
 And all the royal cities of the realm, 
 Th' ambitious hopes of that proud bastard Philip : 
 And sometimes, as you see occasion, 
 Tickle the ears of the rude multitude 
 With Eleazar's praise ; gild his virtues, 
 Naples recovery, and his victories 
 Achiev'd against the Turkish Ottoman. 
 Will you do this for us ? 
 
 Eleaz. Say, will yon ? 
 
 Both. Aye. 
 
 Eleaz. Why start you back and stare ? 
 Ha ! are you afraid ? 
 
 Cole. Oh ! no, sir, no ! but truth to tell, 
 Seeing your face we thought of hell. 
 
 Eleaz. Hell is a dream 
 
 Cole. But none do dream in hell. 
 
 ,Eleaz. Friars, stand to her and me; and by 
 your sin, 
 I'll shoulder out Mendoza from his seat, 
 And of two friars create you cardinals. 
 Oh I how would cardinal's hats on their heads sit. 
 
 Co/e. This face would look most goodly under it. 
 Friars Crab and Cole do swear,
 
 A TRAGEDY. 1^ 
 
 In those circles still to appear, 
 In which she or you do charge us rise ; 
 For you our lives we'll sacrifice. 
 Valete, Guadete : ^ 
 
 Si pereamus Jiete ; 
 Orate pro nohisy 
 Oramus pro vobis. 
 
 Cole will be burnt, and Crab be press'd, 
 Ere they prove knaves ; thus are you cross'd 
 and bless'd. [Exeunt Friars. 
 
 Eleaz. Away ! you know. Now, madam, none 
 shall throw 
 Their leaden envy in an opposite scale, 
 To weigh down our true golden happiness. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Yes, there is one. 
 
 Eleaz. One ! who ? Give me his name, and I will 
 Turn it to a magic spell, 
 To bind him here, here ; who ? 
 
 Qu. Mo. Your wife, Maria. 
 
 Eleaz. Hah! my Maria! * 
 
 Qu. Mo. She's the hellespont divides my love 
 and me: 
 She, being cut off '^* 
 
 Eleaz. Stay, stay; cut oS\ let's think upont; 
 my wife! 
 Humph ! kill her too ! -^xiX 
 
 Qu. Mo. Does her love make thee c61d ? 
 
 Eleaz. Had I a thousand wives, down go they ^11. 
 She dies ; I'll cut her off : now Baltazar I 
 
 M I- 
 ^n^^r Baltazar. * 
 
 BaU. Madam the king entreats your cana- 
 pany. j 
 
 VOL. I. K. iknl
 
 1^ lust's dominion: 
 
 Qu. Mo. His pleasure be obey'd. Dear love, 
 
 farewell ; ) 
 
 Remember your Maria. [Exit. 
 
 Eleaz. Here adieu; 
 With this I'll guard her, whilst it stabs at you. 
 
 Bait. My lord, the friars are won to join with us. 
 
 Eleaz. Be prosperous ! about it Baltazar. A 
 
 JBalt. The watch- word ? ^ 
 
 Eleaz. Oh, the word ; let it be Treason; .3 
 
 When we cry treason, break ope chamber doors. 
 Kill Philip and the cardinal. Hence! , ;i * 
 
 Bait. I fly. [Exit. 
 
 Eleaz. Murder, now ride in triumph ; darkness^, 
 horror, 
 Thus I invoke your aid ; your act begin ; 
 X Night is a glorious robe for th' ugliest sin. 
 
 Enter Cole and Crab in trousers; the Cardinal 
 in one of their WeedSj and Philip putting on 
 the other. 
 
 Friars. Put on, my lord, ,^d fly, or else you 
 die. f 
 
 Phil. I will not, I will die 6rst; cardinal. 
 Prithee good cardinal, pluck off; friars ! slave 
 Murder us two ! he shall not, by this sword. 
 
 Card. My lord, you will endanger both our lives. 
 
 Phil. I care not; I'll kill some before I die. 
 Away ! s'heart take your rags ! Moor, devil, come. 
 
 Friars. My lord, put on, or else 
 
 Phil. God's foot, come help.
 
 A TRAGEDY. l2S 
 
 Card. Ambitious villain! Philip, let us fly 
 Into the chamber of the Mother Queen. 
 
 Phil. Thunder beat down the lodgings. 
 
 Card. Else let's break into the chamber of the 
 king. 
 
 Phil. Agreed; 
 A pox upon these lousy gabardines. 
 Agreed ; I am for you, Moor ; stand side by side ; 
 Come, hands off, leave your ducking ; hell can- 
 not fright 
 Their spirits that do desperately fight. 
 
 Cole. You are too rash, you are too hot, 
 Wild desperateness doth valour blot. \ 
 
 The lodging of the king's beset, 
 With staring faces black as jet, 
 And hearts of iron ; your deaths are row'd' ^^^'"^^'f 
 If you fly that way ; therefore shroud 
 Your body in friar Cole's grey weed ; 
 For is't not madness, man, to bleed. 
 When you may scape untouch'd away? 
 Here's hell, here's heaven ; here if you stay 
 You're gone, you're gone ; friar Crab and I 
 Will here dance friskin, whilst you fly. : 
 
 Gag us, bind us, come put on \ r'K-\-"\ 
 
 The gag's too wide; so, gone, gone, gone! 
 
 Phil. Oh ! well, I'll come again. Lord Cardinal, 
 Take you your castle, I'll to Portugal. 
 I vow I'll come again, and if I do > i^ 
 
 Card. Nay, good my lord. 
 
 Phil, Black devil, I'll conjure you. [Exeunt. 
 
 K
 
 1^ lust's dominion : 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 To Me Friars making a noise, gagged and hound, 
 enter Eleazar, Zarack, Baltazar, and other 
 Moors, all with their Stvords drawn. 
 
 JSleaz, Guard all the passages ; Zarack, stand 
 there ; 
 There Baltazar ; there you ; the friars, 
 Where have you plac'd the friars ? 
 
 All. My lord, a noise * ! 
 
 Salt. The friars are gagg'd and bound. 
 
 Eleaz. 'Tis Philip and the cardinal; shoot 1 
 hah! stay, 
 Unbind them. Where's Mendoza and the prince ? 
 
 Cole. Santa Maria, who can tell! 
 By Peter's keys they bound us well, 
 And having crack'd our shaven crowns, 
 They have escap'd you in our gowns. 
 
 Eleaz. Escap'd ! escap'd away ! I'm glad, it's 
 good ; 
 I would their arms may turn to eagles' wings, 
 To fly us swift as time ; sweet air give way ; 
 Winds, leave your two and thirty palaces. 
 And meeting all in one, join all your might. 
 To give them speedy and a prosperous flight. 
 Escap'd, friars I which way ? 
 
 lioth. This way. 
 
 Eleaz. Good ! alas, what sin is't to shed inno- 
 cent blood ! 
 For look you, holy men, it is the king, 
 
 * In the original this speech is given to Alvero ; but it is evi- 
 dently an error, as he does not enter till some time after.
 
 A TRAGEDY. 126 
 
 The king, the king! see, friars, sulphury wrath 
 Having once enter'd into royal breasts, 
 Mark how it burns : the queen, Philip's mother, 
 Oh, most unnatural ! will have you two 
 Divulge abroad that he's a bastard. Oh ! 
 Will you do't ? 
 
 Crab. What says my brother friar? 
 
 Cole. A prince's love is balm, their wrath a fire. 
 
 Crab. 'Tis true ; but yet I'll publish no such 
 thing ; 
 What fool would lose his soul to please a king? 
 
 Eleaz. Keep there, good there ; yet, for it 
 wounds my soul. 
 To see the misera blest wretch to bleed, 
 I counsel you, in care unto your lives, 
 T' obey the Mother Queen; for, by my life, vii 
 I think she has been prick'd; her consciencGi 
 Oh ! it has stung her for some fact mis-done. 
 She would not else disgrace herself and son. 
 Do't therefore; hark! she'll work your deaths 
 
 else, hate 
 Bred in woman is insatiate. 
 Do't, friars. 
 
 Crab. Brother Cole, zeal sets me in a fiarae> \ 
 I'll do't. ^^mU 
 
 Cole. And I: his baseness we'll proclaim, q a 
 
 [Exeunt Friars^: 
 
 Eleaz. Do, and be damn'd; Zaj:ack and Bal- 
 tazar, ^'^\'\ ,\\-M 
 
 Dog them at the heels; and when their poisonous . 
 breath / 
 
 Hath scatter'd this infection on the hearts ; ^ 
 Of credulous Spaniards, here, reward them thus ; 
 Slaves too much trusted do grow dangerous. .^^^
 
 120 lust's dominion : 
 
 Why, this shall feed i i? 
 
 And fat suspicion, and my policy : 
 ^ril ring through all the court this loud alarum, 
 That they contriv'd the murder of the king. 
 The queen, and me ; and being undermin'd, 
 To scape the blowing up, they fled. Oh, good ! 
 There, there, thou there cry treason ; each one take 
 A several door ; your cries my music make. 
 JBalt. Where's the king? treason pursues him. 
 
 Enter Alvero in his Shirty his Sword drawn. 
 
 Eleaz. Where's the sleepy queen ? 
 Rise, rise, and arm against the hand of treason. 
 Alv. Whence comes this sound of treason ? 
 
 Enter the King in his Shirty his Sword drawn. 
 
 King, Who frights our quiet slumbers 
 With this heavy noise? 
 
 Enter Queen in her Ni^ht Attire. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Was it a dream, or did the sound 
 Of monster treason call me from my rest? -:''''' 
 
 King. Who rais'd this rumour ? Eleazar, you ? 
 
 Eleaz. I did, my liege, and still continue it, 
 Both for your safety and mine own discharge. 
 
 King. Whence comes the ground then? 
 
 Eleaz. From the cardinal, 
 And the young prince ; who bearing in his mind 
 The true idea of his late disgrace, 
 In putting him from the protectorship, 
 And envying the advancement of the Moor, 
 Determined this night to murder you ;
 
 A TRAGEDY. >)iil7 
 
 And for your highness lodg'd within my castle, 
 They would have laid the murder on my head. 
 King, The cardinal, and my brother! bring 
 them forth. 
 Their lives shall answer this ambitious practice. 
 
 Eleaz. Alas ! my lord, it is impossible ; 
 For when they saw I had discover'd them, 
 They train'd two harmless friars to their lodgings, 
 Disrob'd them, gagg'd them, bound them to two 
 
 posts, 
 And in their habits did escape the castle. i 
 
 King. The cardinal is all ambition. 
 And from him doth our brother gather heart. 
 Qu. Mo. Th' ambition of the one infects the 
 other. 
 And in a word they both are dangerous : 
 But might your mother's council stand in force, 
 1 would advise you, send the trusty Moor 
 To fetch them back before they have seduc'd 
 The squint-ey'd multitude from true allegiance, 
 And drawn them to their dangerous faction. 
 King. It shall be so. Therefore, my state's 
 best prop. 
 Within whose bosom I durst trust my life, 
 Both for my safety and thine own discharge. 
 Fetch back those traitors ; and till your return 
 Our self will keep your castle. 
 
 Eleaz. My liege, the tongue of true obedience 
 Must not gainsay his sovereign's impose. 
 By heaven ! I will not kiss the cheek of sleep 
 Till I have fetch'd those traitors to the court ! 
 King. (Aside.) Why this sorts right ; he gone, 
 his beauteous wife 
 Shall sail into the naked arms of love^ffiifrrf^^ '
 
 128 lust's dominion : 
 
 Qu. Mo. (Aside.) Why this is as it should be ; 
 be once gone, 
 His wife, that keeps me from his marriage bed, 
 Shall by this hand of mine be murdered. 
 
 Kirig. This storm is well nigh past; the swell- 
 ing clouds 
 ) That hang so full of treason, by the wind 
 V In awful majesty are scattered. 
 Then each man to his rest. Good night, sweet 
 
 friend ! 
 Whilst thou pursu'st the traitors that are fled, 
 Fernando means to warm thy marriage bed. '^^- 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 JSleaz. Many good nights consume and damn 
 your souls! 
 I know he means to cuckold me this night. 
 Yet do I know no means to hinder it : 
 Besides, who knows whether the lustful king, 
 Having my wife and castle at command, 
 Will ev^r make surrender back again ? 
 But if he do not, with my falchion's point 
 I'll lance those swelling veins, in which hot lust 
 I Does keep his revels ; and with that warm blood, 
 I Where Venus' bastard cool'd his swelt'ring spleen, 
 Wash the disgrace from Eleazar's brow. 
 
 Scene VI. 
 Enter Maria. 
 
 l^aria. Dear Eleazar ! 
 Eleaz. If they lock the gates, 
 
 ^ 
 
 I'll toss a ball of wild-fire o'er the walls. 
 Maria. IJusband 1 sweet husband ! ,^i ;jv>,
 
 '^^ TRAGEDY. #! 
 
 Eleaz. Or else swim o'er the moat, -^ 
 
 And make a breach through the flinty sides 
 Of the rebellious walls. 
 
 Maria. Hear me, dear heart. 
 Eleaz. Or undermine the chamber wh^re they 
 lie. 
 And by the violent strength of gunpowder, 
 Blow up the castle and th' incestuous couch, ^ 
 ( In which lust wallows ;^ut my labouring thoughts, 
 Wading too deep in bottomless extremes. 
 Do drown themselves in their own stratagems. 
 Maria. Sweet husband ! dwell not upon cir- 
 cumstance, 
 "1 When weeping sorrow, like an advocate, 
 i Importunes you for aid ; look in mine eye, 
 yThere you shall see dim grief swimming in tears 
 ^Invocating succour. Oh, succour! 
 Eleaz. Succour ! zounds ! for what ? 
 Maria. To shield me from Fernando's unchaste 
 love, 
 
 Who with uncessant prayers importun'd me 
 
 Eleaz. To lie with you ! I know't. 
 Maria. Then seek some means how to pre- 
 vent it. 
 9 Eleaz. 'Tis possible ! 
 For to the end that his unbridled lust 
 Might have more free access unto thy bed, 
 This night he hath enjoined me 
 To fetch back Philip and the cardinal. 
 
 Maria. Then this ensuing night shall give an end 
 To all my sorrows ; for before foul lust 
 S Shall soil the fair complexion of mine honour. 
 This hand shall rob Maria of her life. 
 
 Eleaz. Not so, dear soul! for in extremities'
 
 ISO lust's dominion : 
 
 Choose out the least : and ere the hand of death 
 Should suck this ivory palace of thy life, 
 Embrace my counsel, and receive this poison ; 
 Which, in the instant he attempts thy love, 
 Then give it him : do, do, 
 Do poison him ; (aside) he gone, thou'rt next. 
 Be sound in resolution, and farewell. 
 (Aside.) By one, and one, I'll ship you all to hell. 
 Spain, I will drown thee with thine own proud 
 
 blood, 
 Then make an ark of carcasses : farewell ! 
 Revenge and I will sail in blood to hell. [Exit. 
 Maria. Poison the king ! alas, my trembling 
 
 hand 
 Would let the poison fall ; and through my cheeks 
 '^^ Fear, suited in a bloodless livery, 
 Would make the world acquainted with my guilt. 
 But thanks prevention, I have found a means, 
 Both to preserve my royal sovereign's life. 
 And keep myself a true and loyal wife. [Exit. 
 
 
 
 Xmt>ts'-mfidt h'>'.
 
 tiiih^i\ <^ .fnrf arft <io hn 
 
 ACT III. Scene I. 
 
 Enter Queen Mother with a Torch. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Fair eldest child of love, thou spot- 
 less night, *'' "' ^' 
 Empress of silence, and the queen of sleep. 
 Who with thy black cheeks pure complexionf, 
 Mak'st lovers eyes enaraour'd of thy beauty, 
 Thou art like my Moor ; therefore will I adore 
 
 For lending me this opportunity, 
 
 Oh ! with the soft-skin'd negro. Heavens, keep 
 
 back 
 The saucy staring day from the world's eye^ ^'^ ^ 
 Until my Eleazar make return: '***^' ^* 
 
 Then, in his castle shall he find his wife ' 
 
 Transform'd into a strumpet by my son : 
 Then shall he hate her whom he would not kill; 
 Then shall I kill her whom I cannot love. 
 The king is sporting with his goncubine ; 
 Blush not, my boy, be bold like me thy mother ; 
 But their delights torture my soul like devils. 
 Except her shame be seen : wherefore, awake ! 
 Christophero ! Roderigo ! raise the court ; 
 Arise, you peers of Spain ; Alvero rise, 
 Preserve your country from base infamies. 
 
 Enter at several DoorSy with Lights and Rapiers 
 drawny Alvero, Roderigo, and Christo- 
 phero, with others. 
 
 All. Who rais'd these exclamations through 
 the court?
 
 132 ' lust's dominion: 
 
 Qu. Mo. Sheath up your swords ; you need 
 not swords, but eyes 
 To intercept this treason. 
 
 Alv, What's the treason ? 
 Who are traitors ? ring the larum bell ; 
 Cry arm through all the city : once before 
 The horrid cry of treason did affright 
 Our sleeping spirits. 
 
 Qu.Mo. Stay; 
 You need not cry arm, arm ; for this black deed 
 Works treason to your king, to me, to you, ii 
 To Spain, and all that shall in Spain ensue. A 
 This night Maria (Eleazar's wife) 
 Hath drawn the king by her lascivious looks 
 Privately to a banquet ; I unseen, 
 Stood and beheld him in her lustful arms ; j 
 O God ! shall bastards wear Spain's diadem ? 
 If you can kneel to baseness, vex them not ; 
 If you disdain to kneel, wash off this blot. . 
 
 Rod. Let's break into the chamber, and sur- 
 prise her. 
 
 Alv. Oh, miserable me ! do, do, break in ; 
 My country shall not blush at my child's sin. 
 yi^ Qu. iltfo.( Delay is nurse to danger, 'follow me; 
 Come you and witness to her villany. 
 
 Alv. Hapless Alvero, how art thou undone. 
 In a light daughter, and a stubborn son ! 
 
 [Exeunt xminef. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Enter King with his Rapier drawn in one Hand^ 
 leading Maria, seeming affrighted^ in the other. 
 
 Maria. Oh ! kill me ere you stain my chastity. 
 King. My hand holds death, but love sits in 
 mine eye.
 
 A TRAGEDY. %99 
 
 Exclaim not, dear Maria, do but hear me:^ -^ 
 Though thus in dead of night, as 1 do now, 
 The lustful Tarquin stole to the chaste bed 
 Of Collatine's fair wife, yet shall thou be 
 No Lucrece, nor thy king a Roman slave, 
 To make rude villany thine honour's grave. 
 Maria. Why from my bed have you thus 
 
 frighted me? 
 King. To let thee view a bloody horrid tragedy. 
 Maria. Begin it then, I'll gladly lose my life, 
 Rather than be an emperor's concubine. ' ' < ^' 
 King. By my high birth, I swear thou shalt 
 be none 
 The tragedy I'll Write with my own hand, 
 A king shall act it, and a king shall die, 
 ^ Except sweet mercy's beam shine from thine eye. 
 If this affright thee it shall sleep for ever. 
 If still thou hate me, thus this noble blade, 
 This royal purple temple shall invade. 
 
 Maria. My husband is from hence, for his 
 
 sake spare me. 
 King. Thy husband is no Spaniard ; thou art one. 
 So is Fernando; then for country's sake, 
 Let me not spare thee : on thy husband's fac^, 
 /^ Eternal night in gloomy shades doth dwell; ^^ 
 ";! But I'll look on thee like the gilded sun. 
 When to the west his fiery horses run. 
 
 Maria. True, here you look on me with sun 
 r set eyes, 
 
 ^ For by beholding you my glory dies. ^^ - -^^ 
 King. Call me thy morning then, for like tfie 
 mom. 
 In Dride Maria shall through Spain be borneS 
 
 [Mtisic plays within.
 
 184 lust's dominion: 
 
 This music was prepar'd to please thine ears * : 
 Love me, and thou shalt hear no other sounds. 
 
 [A banquet brought in. 
 LiO, here's a banquet set with mine own hands; ^ 
 Love me, and thus I'll feast thee like a queen. 
 I might command thee, l>eing thy sovereign ; (^ 
 But love me, and I'll kneel and sue to thee, ^^ "' 
 And circle this white forehead with the crown 
 Of Castile, Portugal, and Arragon, 
 And all those petty kingdoms which do bow " 
 Their tributary knees to Philip's heir. '^^ 
 
 Maria. I cannot love you whilst my husband 
 lives. 
 
 King. I'll send him to the wars, and in the front 
 Of some main army shall he nobly die. '^ 
 
 Maria. 1 cannot love you if you murder him. *^ 
 
 King. For thy sake then I'll call a Parliament, 
 And banish, by a law, all Moors from Spain. 
 
 Maria. I'll wander with him into banishment. 
 
 King. It shall be death for any Negro's hand 
 To touch the beauty of a Spanish dame. 
 Come, come, what needs such cavils with a king ? 
 Night blinds all jealous eyes, and we may play; 
 Carouse that bowl to me, I'll pledge all this ; 
 Being down, we'll make it more sweet with a kiss. 
 Begin, I'll lock all doors, begin Spain's queen, 
 
 [Locks the doors. 
 Love's banquet is most sweet when 'tis least seen. 
 
 Maria. Oh ! thou conserverof my honour's life, 
 Instead of poisoning him, drown him in sleep ; 
 
 * In the original it runs, " This music was prepar'd thine 
 ears." An omission was evident; I trust the right reading is 
 restored.
 
 A TRAGEDY. ISS" 
 
 Because I'll quench the flames of wild desire, 
 ril drink this off, let fire conquer love's fire. 
 
 King. Were love himself in real substance here, 
 Thus would I drink him down; let your sweety 
 strings I 
 
 Speak louder, pleasure is but a slave to kings^ \; 
 In which love swims. Maria, kiss thy king; jf,g 
 Circle me in this ring of ivory ; 
 ) Oh ! I grow dull, and the cold hand of sleep 
 ) Hath thrust his icy lingers in my breast *, 
 ^ And made a frost within me : sweet, one kiss, 
 To thaw this deadness that congeals my soul., 
 Maria. Your majesty hath over-watch'd your- 
 self. 
 He sleeps already, not the sleep of death. 
 But a sweet slumber which the powerful drug 
 Instiil'd through all his spirits. Oh ! bright day. 
 Bring home my dear lord ere his king awake, 
 Else of his unstained bed he'll shipwreck make. 
 
 [Offers to go. 
 
 JBw^cr Oberon, and Fairies dancing before him; 
 and Music with them. 
 
 Maria. Oh me ! what shapes are these ! 
 
 Ober. Stay, stay, Maria. ^ 
 
 Maria. My sovereign lore} awake, save poor 
 Maria. 
 
 Ober. He cannot save thee, save that pain * 
 Before he wake thou shalt be slam: /. i;^ ' 
 His mother's hand shall stop thy breath, ^ 
 
 Thinking her own son is done to death : 
 
 " And none of you will bid the winter come. 
 To thrust bis icy fingers in my maw." 
 
 King John^ Act V. Scene X
 
 i;36 LUST*s DOMINION : 
 
 And she that takes away thy life, 
 Does it to be thy husband's wife : 
 Adieu, Maria ; we must hence ; 
 Embrace thine end with patience ; 
 Elves and fairies make no stand, 
 Till you come in fairy land. ' 
 
 [Exeunt dancing and singing. 
 Maria. Fairies or devils, w^hatsoe'er you be, 
 Thus will I hide me from your company. 
 
 [Offers to go. 
 ^il 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 To 'Afe*r^ i^ftjf QiTEEN Mother suddenly, with 
 ^"'- Alvero and Roderigo, with Rapiers. 
 
 Q^^Mo. Lay hold upon the strumpet ! where's 
 the king ? 
 Fernando ! son ! ah, me ! your king is dead ! 
 Lay hands upon the murd'ress. 
 
 Maria. Imperious queen, 
 I am as free from murder as thyself; 
 Which I will prove, if you will hear me speak. 
 The king is living. 
 
 ^^Rod. If he liv'd his breath would beat within 
 his breast. 
 
 ^M. Mo. The life he leads, Maria, thou shalt 
 soon participate. 
 
 Maria. Oh, father ! save me! i/; ytift .^i* ja 
 
 Alv. Thou'rt no child of mine. n n,:w;U 
 
 Had'st thou been owner of Alvero's spirit, , |/^ 
 Thy heart would not have entertain'd a thought 
 That had convers'd with murder : yet mine eye^s,
 
 A TRAGEDY. 137 
 
 (Howe'er my tongue wants words), brim full with 
 
 tears, 
 In treat her further trial. 
 
 Qu. Mo. To what end ? 
 Here lies her trial; from this royal breast 
 Hath she stolen all comfort ; all the life 
 Of every bosom in the realm of Spain. 
 Rod. She's both a traitor and murd'ress. 
 Qu. Mo. I'll have her forthwith strangled. 
 Alv. Hear her speak. 
 
 Qu. Mo. To heaven let her complain if she 
 have wrong, 
 I murder but the murd'ress of my son. 
 All. We murder the murdress of our king*. 
 Alv. Ah, me ! my child ! oh ! oh, cease your 
 
 torturing ! 
 Maria. Heaven ope your windows, that my 
 spotless soul, 
 Riding upon the wings of innocence. 
 May enter Paradise. Fairies, farewell ; 
 Fernando*s death in mine you did foretell. " ' 
 
 [She dies. King walces. 
 King. Who calls Fernando? Love, Maria, 
 speak ; 
 Oh ! whither art thou fled ? Whence flow these 
 
 waters, ^'1 
 
 That fall like winter storms from the droWird'eyes? 
 Alv. From my Maria's death. 
 King. My Maria dead ! 
 Damn'd be the soul to hell that stop'd her breath. 
 Maria ! oh, me! who durst murder her? 
 
 * In the original this in given to Alvero, but evidently in 
 error. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 138 LUST S DOMINION '. 
 
 Qu, Mo. I thought my dear Fernando had been 
 dead, 
 And in my indignation murder'd her. 
 
 King. I was not dead until you murder'd me, 
 By killing fair Maria. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Gentle son 
 
 King. Ungentle mother, you a deed have done 
 Of so much ruth, that no succeeding age 
 Can ever clear you of. Oh ! my dear love ! 
 Yet heavens can witness thou wert never mine. 
 Spain's wonder was Maria. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Sweet, have done. 
 
 King. Have done! for what? For shedding 
 zealous tears 
 Over the tomb of virtuous chastity ? 
 You cry have done, now I am doing good; 
 But cry'd do on, when you were shedding blood. 
 Have you done, mother ? Yes, yes, you have done 
 That which will undo your unhappy son. 
 
 Rod. These words become you not, my gra- 
 cious lord. :.ri a;-^ I 
 
 King. These words become not me ! no more 
 it did 
 Become you lords to be mute standers by. 
 When lustful fury ravish'd chastity : 
 It ill becomes me to lament her death ; 
 But it became you well to stop her breath. 
 Had she been fair, and not so virtuous. 
 This deed had not been half so impious. 
 
 Alv. But she was fair in virtue, virtuous fair. 
 Oh, me I 
 
 King.. Oh, me ! she was true honour's heir. 
 Hence, beldams, from my presence ! all fly hence ; 
 You are all murderers. Come, poor innocent,
 
 A TRAGEDY. tS9 
 
 Clasp thy cold hand in mine ; for here I'll lie, 
 And since I liv'd for her, for her I'll die. 
 
 / 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 JEiiterlEihEAZAR with a Torch; his Rapier draum. 
 
 Eleaz. Bar up my castle gates ! fire and con- 
 fusion 
 Shall girt these Spanish curs. Was I for this 
 Sent to raise power against a fugitive? >* 
 
 To have my wife deflower'd ? Zounds ! where's 
 
 my wife ? 
 My slaves cry out she's dallying with the king : 
 Stand by ; where is your king ? Eleazar's bed 
 Shall scorn to be an Emperor's brothelrie. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Be patient, Eleazar; here's the king. 
 Eleaz. Patience and I am foes ; where's my 
 
 Maria ? 
 Alv. Here is her hapless corse, that was Maria. 
 King. Here lies Maria's body, here her grave, 
 Her dead heart in my breast a tomb shall have. 
 Eleaz. Now, by the proud complexion of my 
 cheeks, 
 . Ta'en from the kisses of the amorous sun, ) 
 'Were he ten thousand kings that slew my love, 
 Thus should my hand, plum'd with revenge's 
 
 wings. 
 Requite mine own dishonour and her death. 
 
 [Stabs the King. 
 Qu. Mo. Ah, me ! my son. 
 All. The king is murder'd ! lay hold on the 
 
 damn'd traitor. 
 Eleaz. In his breast, 
 
 l2
 
 140 lustIs dominion. 
 
 That dares but dart a finger at the Moor, 
 I'll bury this sharp steel, yet reeking warm 
 With the unchas'd blood of that letcher king. 
 That threw my wife in an untimely grave. 
 
 Alv. She was my danghter, and her timeless 
 grave 
 Did swallow down my joys as deep as yours. 
 But thus 
 
 Eleaz. But what? Bear injuries that can, 
 i( I'll wear no forked crest. 
 
 Rod. Damn this black fiend ! cry treason 
 through the court. rj;<i < i 
 
 The king is murder'd. 
 * Eleaz. He that first opes his lips, I'll drive his 
 Y words 
 
 Down his wide throat upon my rapier's point. 
 The king is murder'd, and I'll answer it; 
 I ,ara dishonour'd, and I will revenge it. 
 Bend not your dangerous weapons at my breast; 
 Think where you are ; this castle is the Moor's ; 
 You are environ'd with a wall of flint. 
 The gates are lock'd, portcullises let down ; 
 If JEleazar spend one drop of blood, 
 
 (Zarack and JBaltazar above with calivers *.) 
 On those high turret tops my slaves stand arm'd, 
 And shall confound your souls with murd'ring shot : 
 Or if you murder me, yet under ground, 
 A villain, that for me will dig to hell, 
 St;\nds with a burning limstock in his fist. 
 Who firing gunpowder, up in the air 
 Shall fling your torn and mangled carcasses, 
 
 * Caliver, a musket.
 
 A TRAGEDY. t4l 
 
 Qu. Mo. Oh ! sheath your weapons though my 
 son be slain, 
 Yet save yourselves, choose a new sovereign. 
 
 All. Prince Philip is our sovereign, choose him 
 king ! 
 
 Eleaz. Prince Philip shall not be my sovereign. 
 Philip's a bastard, and Fernando's dead ; 
 Mendoza sweats to wear Spain's diadem. 
 Philip hath sworn confusion to this realm, 
 They both are up in arms, war's flames do shine 
 Like lightning in the air. Wherefore, my lords, 
 Look well on Eleazar; value me, 
 Not by my sun-burnt cheeks, nor by my birth ; 
 But by my loss of blood, 
 Which I have sacrificed in Spain's defence. 
 Then look on Philip and the cardinal ; 
 Look on those gaping curs, whose wide throats 
 Stand stretch 'd wide open like the gates of death, 
 To swallow you, your country, children, wives. 
 Philip cries fire and blood, the cardinal 
 Cries likewise fire and blood ; I'll quench those 
 
 flames. 
 The Moor cries blood and fire, and that shall bum 
 Till Castile, like proud Troy, to cinders turn. 
 
 Rod. Lay by these ambages ; what seeks the 
 Moor ? 
 
 Eleaz. A kingdom, Castile's crown. 
 
 Alv. Peace, devil ; for shame ! 
 
 Qu. Mo. Peace, doting lord, for shame ! Ob, 
 misery ! 
 When Indian slaves thirst after empery. 
 Princes and peers of Spain, we are beset 
 With horror on each side; you deny him. 
 Death stands at all our backs, we cannot fly him.
 
 142 LUSTS DOMINION : 
 
 Crown Philip king, the crown upon his head 
 Will prove a fiery meteor; war and vengeance, 
 And desolation, will invade our land : 
 Besides, Prince Philip is a bastard born. 
 Oh ! give me leave to blush at mine own shame ; 
 But I, for love to you, love to fair Spain, 
 Choose rather to rip up a queen's disgrace, 
 Then by concealing it, to set the crown 
 Upon a bastard's head : wherefore, my lord. 
 By my consent, crown that proud blackamore. 
 Since Spain's bright glory must so soon grow dim, 
 Since it must end, let it end all in him. 
 AIL Eleazar shall be king ! 
 Alv. Oh, treachery! 
 Have you so soon ras'd out Femando's love? 
 So soon forgot the duty of true peers ? 
 So soon, so soon, buried a mother's name, * 
 
 That you will crown him king, that slew your 
 king? 
 Eleaz. Will you hear him or me : who shall be 
 
 king ? 
 All, Eleazar shall be Castile's sovereign ! 
 Alv, Do, do ! make haste to crown him ! lords 
 adieu : 
 Here hell must be when the devil governs you. 
 
 {Exit. 
 ^f Eleaz. By heaven's great star, which Indians 
 
 do adore, 
 ^ But that I hate to hear the giddy world 
 Shame that I waded to a crown through blood, 
 I'd not digest his pills : but since, my lords, 
 You have chosen Eleazar for your king, 
 Invest me with a general applause. 
 All. Live, Eleazar, Castile's royal king ! )moC)
 
 A TRAGEDY. ]43 
 
 Rod, (Aside.) A villain, and a base born fu- 
 gitive. 
 
 Christo. (Aside.) A bloody tyrant and usurp- 
 ing slave. 
 
 Eleaz. Thanks to you all : Tis not the Spanish 
 crown 
 That Eleazar strives for, but Spain's peace ; 
 Amongst you I'll divide her empery. 
 Christofero shall wear Granado's crown ; 
 To Roderigo, I'll give Arragon ; 
 Naples, Navar, and fair Jerusalem, 
 I'll give to other three ; and then our viceroys 
 Shall shine about our bright Castilian crown, 
 As stars about the sun. Cry all, arm, arm ; 
 Prince Philip and the Cardinal do ride 
 Like Jove in thunder; in a storm we'll meet them. 
 Go, levy powers; if any man must fall, .,,,;. ,|,ii 
 My death shall first begin the funeral. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene V. 
 Enter Zarack and Baltazar, ivith Calivers. 
 
 Ealt. Is thy cock ready, and thy powder dry ? 
 
 Zar. My cock stands pearching like a cock 
 o' the game, with a red coal for his crest, instead 
 of a comb ; and for my powder, 'tis but touch 
 and take. 
 
 Bait. I have tickling geer too; anon I'll cry, 
 here I have it, and yonder I see it. But, Zarack, 
 is't policy for us to kill these bald-pates ? 
 
 Zar. Is't policy for us to save ourselves? If 
 they live, we die. Is't not wisdom then to send 
 them to heaven, rather than be sent ourselves ? 
 Come, you black slave, be resolute. This way
 
 144 lust's dominion : 
 
 they come; here they will stand, and yonder will 
 I stand. 
 
 Bait. And in yonder hole, I. 
 
 Zar, Our amiable faces cannot be seen if we 
 keep close ; therefore hide your cock's head, lest 
 his burning cocks-comb betray us. But soft; 
 which of the two shall be thy white*? 
 
 3alt. That black villain, friar Cole. 
 
 Zar. I shall have a sharp piece of service ; 
 Friar Crab shall be my man ; farewell, and be 
 resolute. 
 
 Bait. Zounds, Zarack ! I shall never have the 
 heart to do it. 
 
 Zar. You rogue, think who commands ; Eleazar. 
 Who shall rise? Baltazar. Who shall die? A 
 lousy friar. Who shall live? Our good lord and 
 master, the negro king of Spain. 
 
 Bait. Cole, thou art but a dead man, and shalt 
 turn to ashes. [^Exit. 
 
 Zar. Crab, here's that shall make vinegar of 
 thy carcass. \_Exit. 
 
 Enter Crab and Cole, two Friars, with a Rout 
 of Stinkards following them. 
 
 Crab. Ah, brother, 'tis best so. Now we have 
 drawn them to a head, we'll begin here i' the 
 market-place. Tut, so long as we be commanded 
 by the Mother Queen, we'll say her son is a bas- 
 tard, an he were ten Philips. 
 
 Cole. Take you one market form, I'll take an- 
 other. 
 
 Crab. No, godso, we must both keep one form. 
 
 * " The mark at which an arrow is shot, which used to be 
 painted white." johnson.
 
 A TRAGEDY. J4i 
 
 Cole. Aye, in oration, but not in station. Mouat, 
 mount. 
 
 1 Stinkard. Well, my masters, you know him 
 not so well as J, on my word. Friar Crab is a 
 sour fellow. 
 
 2 Stinkard. Yet he may utter sweet doctrine, 
 by your leave. But what think you of friar Cole? 
 
 1 Stinkard. He, all fire : an he be kindled 
 once, a hot catholic. 
 
 3 Stinkard. And you mark him, he has a zealous 
 nose, and richly inflam'd. 
 
 1 Stinkard. Peace, you rogues ! Now they 
 begin. 
 
 Crah. Incipe Frater. 
 
 Crab. No7i ego Domine. 
 
 Crab, Nee ego. 
 
 Cole. Quare. 
 
 Crab. Quia. 
 
 Cole. Qvteso. 
 
 All. Here's a quezy beginning methinks. Si- 
 lence! silence! ..h m. : , 
 
 Crab. Brethren, citizens, and market folks of 
 Seville. 
 
 Cole. Well beloved, and honoured Castilians. 
 
 Crab. It is not unknown to you. 
 
 Cole. I am sure you are not ignorant. 
 
 Crab. How villainous, and strong ! 
 
 Cole. How monstrous, and huge ! 
 
 Crab. The faction of Prince Philip is. 
 
 Cole. Philip, that is a bastard. 
 
 Crab. Philip, that is a dastard. 
 
 Cole. Philip, that kill'd your king. 
 
 Crab. Only to make himself king. 
 
 Cole. And, by Gad's blessed lady, you are all 
 damn'd, an you suffer it.
 
 V^ LUSTS dominion: 
 
 .4 Stinkard. Friar Cole says true, he speaks 
 out to the heat of his zeal ; look how he glows. 
 
 2 Stinkard. Well, friar Crab, for my money ; 
 he has set my teeth an edge against this bastard. 
 
 1 Stinkard. Oh ! his words are like vergis, to 
 whet a man's stomach. 
 
 All. Silence ! silence ! 
 
 Crab. Now, contrariw^ise. 
 
 Cole. Your noble king the Moor 
 
 Crab. Is a valiant gentleman ; 
 
 Cole. A noble gentleman ; 
 
 Crab. An honourable gentleman; 
 
 Cole. A fair black gentleman. 
 
 Crab. A friend to Castilians ; 
 
 Cole. A champion for Castilians ; 
 
 Crab. A man fit to be a king, 
 
 Cole. If he were not borne down by him that 
 would be king; who (as I said before) is a bastard, 
 and no king. 
 
 I Stinkard. What think you, my masters ? Do 
 you mark his words well ? 
 
 Crab. Further, compare them together. 
 
 All. S'blood ! there's no comparison between 
 them. 
 
 Cole. Nay ; but hear us, good countrymen. 
 
 All. Hear friar Cole ! hear friar Cole ! 
 
 Cole. See that bastard and Eleazar together. 
 
 1 Stinkard. How ? mean you by the ears ? 
 
 Ciab. No; but compare them. 
 
 Cole. Do but compare them. 
 ^ 2 Stinkard. Zounds ! we say, again, compa- 
 risons are odious. *) 
 
 1 Stinkard. But say on, say on. 
 
 [Pieces go off; Friars die.
 
 A TRAGEDY. 147 
 
 All. Treason! treason! every man shift for 
 himself. This is Philip's treason. Arm ! arm I 
 arm ! [^Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VI. 
 
 Enter Eleazar, Zarack, and Baltazar. 
 
 Eleaz. Zarack and Baltazar, are they dispatch'd ? 
 Zar. Wesaw 'em sprawl, and turn up the white 
 
 of the eye. 
 Eleaz. So shall they perish that lay counter- 
 mines 
 To cross our high designments : by their habits 
 The cardinal and Philip 'scap'd our nets, 
 And by your hands they tasted our revenge. 
 
 Enter Queen Mother. 
 
 Here comes the queen, away ! under our wings 
 You shall stand safe, and brave the proudest kings. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Qu. Mo. Oh ! fly my Eleazar, save thy life. 
 Else 'point a guard about thee ; the mad people, 
 Tempestuou^like the sea, run up and down. 
 Some crying, kill the bastard ; some the Moor ; 
 Some cry, God save King Philip ; and some cry, 
 God save the Moor ; some others, he shall die. 
 Eleaz. Are these your fears ? Thus blow them 
 into air. 
 I rush'd amongst the thickest of their crowds, 
 ' And with a countenance majestical. 
 Like the imperious sun, dispers'd their clouds ; 
 'l have perfum'd the rankness of their breath, 
 ' And by the magic of true eloquence, 
 iTransforra'd this many-headed Cerberus,
 
 148 LUSTS dominion: 
 
 This py'd Cameljon, this beast multitude, 
 Whose power consists in number, pride in threats, 
 Yet melt like snow when majesty shines forth, 
 This heap of fools, who crowding in huge swarms, 
 j Stood at our court gates like a heap of dung, 
 I Reeking and shouting out contagious breath, 
 I Of power to poison all the elements ; 
 
 This wolf I held by th' ears, and made him tame. 
 And made him tremble at the Moor's great name : 
 No, we must combat with a grimmer foe ; 
 That damn'd Mendoza overturns our hopes. 
 He loves you dearly. 
 
 Qu. Mo. By his secret letters 
 He hath intreated me to leave the court. 
 And fly into his arms. 
 
 JEleaz. The world cannot devise a stratagem 
 Sooner to throw confusion on his pride. 
 Subscribe to his desires, and in dead night 
 Steal to his castle ; swear to him his love 
 Hath drawn you thither ; undermine his soul, 
 A. And learn what villanies are there laid up ; 
 Then, for your pleasure, walk to take the air: 
 Near to the castle I'll in ambush lie. 
 And seem, by force, to take you prisoner : 
 This done, I have a practice plotted here, ' 
 
 Shall rid him of his life, and us of fear. . 
 About it, madam, this is all in all ; 
 We cannot stand, unless Mendoza fall.
 
 A TRAGEDY. 149 
 
 ACT IV. Scene I. 
 
 Enter Emanuel, King of Portugal, Prince 
 Philip, Mendoza, Alvero, with Drums and 
 Soldiers inarching. 
 
 K. of Port. Poor Spain ! how is the body of 
 thy peace i. i* 
 
 Mangled and torn by an ambitious Moor. 
 How is thy prince and counsellors abus'd, 
 And trodden under the base foot of scorn. 
 Wrong'd lords, Emanuel of Portugal partakes 
 A falling share in all your miseries; 
 And though the tardy-hand of slow delay 
 Withheld us from preventing your mishaps, 
 Yet shall revenge dart black confusion 
 Into the bosom of that damned fiend. 
 
 Phil. But is it possible our Mother Queen 
 Should countenance his ambition ? 
 
 Alv. Her advice is a steersman to direct his 
 course ; 
 Besides, as we by circumstance have learnt, 
 She means to marry him. 
 
 Phil. Then, here upon my knees, 
 I pluck allegiance from her ; all that love, 
 Which by innative duty I did owe her, 
 Shall henceforth be converted into hate. 
 This will confirm the world's opinion 
 That I am base born, and the damned Moor 
 Had interest in my birth ; this wrong alone 
 Gives new fire to the cinders of my rage ;
 
 IftO lust's dominion : 
 
 I may be well transforniied from what I am, 
 When a black devil is husband to my dam. 
 K. of Port. Prince, let thy rage give way to 
 patience, 
 ^ And set a velvet brow upon the face 
 XOf wrinkled anger ; our keen swords 
 
 Must right these wrongs, and not light airy words. 
 ]\ Phil. Yet words may make the edge of rage 
 Y more sharp,* 
 
 'And whet a blunted courage with revenge. 
 
 tAlv. Here's none wants whetting, for our keen 
 resolves 
 re steel'd unto the back with double wrongs ; 
 Wrongs that would make a handless man take 
 
 arms, 
 Wrongs that would make a coward resolute. 
 Card. Why, then join all our several wrongs 
 in one, 
 And from these wrongs assume a firm resolve 
 To send this devil to damnation. ^ 
 
 [Drums afar off. 
 Phil. I hear the sound of his approaching march; 
 Stand fair ; Saint Jaques for the right of Spain. 
 
 Enter the Moor, Roderigo, Christofero, with 
 DrumSy Colours, and Soldiers, 'marching bravely. 
 
 Eleaz. Bastard of Spain ! 
 Phil. Thou true stamp'd son of hell, 
 Thy pedigree is written in thy face. 
 
 [Alarum, and a battle, the Moor prevails^; 
 all exeunt.
 
 A TRAGEDY. . 151 
 
 Scene II. 
 Enter Philip and Cardinal. 
 
 Phil. Move forward with your maiu battalion, 
 Or else all is lost. 
 
 Card. I will not move a foot. 
 
 Phil. S'heart ! will you lose the day ? 
 
 Card. You lose your wits, 
 You're mad ; it is no policy. 
 
 Phil. You lie. 
 
 Card. Lie ! 
 
 Phil. Lie ; a pox upon't, cardinal, come on, 
 Second the desperate vanguard which is mine, 
 And where I'll die or win ; follow my sword 
 The bloody way I lead it, or by heaven 
 I'll play the devil, and mar all ! we'll turn our backs 
 Upon the Moors, and set on thee ; aye, thee. 
 Thee cardinal ; s'heart ! thee. 
 
 Card. Your desperate arm. 
 Hath almost thrust quite through the heart of 
 
 hope : 
 Our fortunes lie a bleeding by your rash 
 And violent onset. 
 
 Phil. Oh! oh! s'life! s'foot! will you fight ? 
 
 Card. We will not hazard all upon one cast, 
 
 Phil. You will not ? 
 
 Card. No. 
 
 Phil. Coward! 
 
 Card. By deeds, I'll try 
 Whether your venomous tongue says true. Fare- 
 well; 
 Courage shines both in this, and policy. [Exit.
 
 
 152 lust's DOMINION : 
 
 Phil. To save thy skin whole, that's thy policy. 
 '^ You whoreson fat-chop'd guts, I'll melt away 
 That larded body by the heat of fight, 
 Which I'll compel thee to, or else by flying : 
 To work which, I'll give way to the proud foe, 
 Whilst I stand laughing to behold thee run. 
 Cardinal I'll do't, I'll do't; a Moor, a Moor, 
 Philip cries, a Moor ; holla ! ha ! whoo ! 
 
 Enter King of Portugal. 
 
 K. of Port. Prince Philip ! Philip I 
 
 Phil. Here, plague where's the Moor ? 
 
 K. of Port. The Moor's a devil : never did 
 horrid fiend, 
 Compel'd by some magician's mighty charm, 
 Break through the prisons of the solid earth 
 With more strange horror, than this prince of hell : 
 This damned negro, lion-like, doth rush 
 Through all, and spite of all knit opposition. 
 
 Phil. Puh ! puh ! where ? where ? 
 I'll meet him, where ? You mad me ! 
 'Tis not his arm 
 
 That acts such wonders, but our cowardice. 
 This cardinal, oh ! this cardinal is a slave. 
 
 Enter Captain. 
 
 Capt. Sound a retreat, or else the day is lost! 
 Phil. I'll beat that dog to death that sounds 
 
 retreat. 
 K. of Port, Philip! 
 Phil. I'll tear his heart out that dares name 
 
 but sound. 
 K. of Port. Sound a retreat !
 
 A TRAGEDY. 153 
 
 Phil. Who's that? you tempt my sword, sir; 
 Continue this alarum, fight pell-mell ; 
 Fight, kill, be damn'd. This fat-back, coward 
 
 cardinal, 
 Lies heavy on my shoulders ; this, aye this, 
 Shall fling him off. Sound a retreat? Zounds! 
 you mad me ! 
 ( Ambition plumes the Moor,\whilst black despair, 
 Offering to tear from him the diadem 
 Which he usurps, makes him to cry at all, 
 And to act deeds beyond astonishment ; 
 But Philip is the night that darks his glories : 
 This sword, yet reeking with his negro's blood, 
 Being grasp'd by equity and this strong arm. 
 Shall through and through. 
 
 All. A way then ! 
 
 Phil. From before me. 
 Stay, stand ; stand fast, fight ! a Moor, a Moor ! 
 
 Scene III, 
 
 i 
 
 Enter Eleazar, Zarack, Baltazar, Roderigo, 
 Christofero, and others; they fight: Moors 
 are all beat in. Exeunt omnes. Manet Eleazar 
 weary ; a Moor lays slain. 
 
 Eleaz. Oh ! for more work, more souls to post 
 to hell, ^ 
 
 That I might pile up Charon's boat so full. 
 Until it topple o'er ! Oh ! 'twould be sport 
 \jTo see them sprawl through the black slimy lake. 
 Ha, ha ! there's one going thither : sirrah I you. 
 You slave! who kill'd thee? How he grins ! this 
 breast, 
 vol,. I. M
 
 ljf_4 lust's dominion : 
 
 Had it been teraper'd and made proof like mine, 
 It never would have been a mark for fools 
 To hit afar off with their dastard bullets. 
 But thou didst well ; thou knew'st Iwaa thy lord. 
 And out of love and duty to me, here, .,* t 
 
 Where I fell weary, thou laid'st down thyself. 
 To bear me up thus : God a-mercy, slave, 
 A king for this shall give thee a rich grave. 
 
 j4s he sits down enter Philip with a broken sword. 
 
 Phil. I'll wear thee to the pommel, but I'll find 
 The subject of mine honour and revenge. r j 
 
 Moor, *tis for thee I seek ! come, now, now take me 
 At good advantage; speak! where art thou? 
 
 JEleaz. Here ! 
 
 Phil. Fate and revenge, I thank you. Rise ! 
 
 Eleaz. Leave and live. 
 
 Phil. Villain, it is Philippo that bids rise. 
 
 Eleaz. It had been good for thee to have hid 
 thy name ; 
 For the discovery, like to a dangerous charm. 
 Hurts him that finds it. Wherefore do those 
 
 blood-hounds, 
 Thy rage and valour, chase me ? 
 
 Phil. Why, to kill thee. 
 
 Eleaz. With that! what a blunt axe? Think'st 
 thou, V\\ let 
 Thy fury take a full blow at this head, 
 Having these arms? Be wise, go change thy 
 weapon. 
 
 PAV/.Oh, sir! 
 
 Eleaz. I'll stay thy coming. .. 
 
 Phil. Thou't be dainn'd first. '^ '^
 
 A TRAGEDY. f66 
 
 Eleaz. By all our Indian gocls-i-fci."^'^^^ 'i h&H 
 
 Phil. Puh! never swear:^ ^iBii hhm rt ;\^y<,m ii 
 Thou know'st 'tis for a kingdom which we fi^ht^ 
 And for that who'll not venture to hell gates? 
 Come, Moor, I'm arm'd with more than complete 
 steel, f^ff W i aiedW 
 
 The justice of my quarrel : when I look " 
 
 Upon my father's wrongs, my brother's woun4s/ 
 My mother's infamy, Spain's misery, 
 And lay my finger here; oh ! 'tis too dull:*jf f\s 
 To let out blood enough to quench them all. 
 But when I see your face, and know what fears 
 Hang on thy troubled soul, like leaden weights 
 To make it sink, I know this finger's touch 
 Has strength to throw thee down; I know thi* 
 
 iron , 
 
 Is sharp and long enough to reach tliat nead. 
 Fly not, devil ; if thou do 
 
 Eleaz. How! fly! Oh, base! 
 
 Phil. Come then. 
 
 Eleaz. Stay, Philip; whosoe'er begat thee 
 
 Phil. Why, slave, a king begat me. 
 
 Eleaz. May be so ; 
 But I'll be sworn thy mother was a queen ; 
 For her sake will I kill thee nobly. 
 Fling me thy sword, there's mine ; I scorn to strike 
 A man disarm'd. 
 
 Phil. For this dishonouring me, 
 I'll give thee one stab more. 
 
 Eleaz. I'll run away. 
 Unless thou change that weapon or take mine. 
 
 Phil. Neither. 
 
 Eleaz. Farewell, , 
 
 Phil. S'heart, stay ! and if you dare, 
 M 2
 
 156 LUST S DOMINION : 
 
 Do as I do, oppofse thy naked breast 
 
 Against this poniard; see! here's this for thine. 
 
 Eleaz. I am for thee, Philip. 
 
 Phil. Come, nay, take more ground. 
 That with a full career thou raay'st strike home. 
 
 Eleaz. Thou't run away then. 
 
 PhU. Hah! 
 
 Eleaz. Thou't run away then. 
 
 Phil. Faith I will ; but first, on this I'll bear 
 Thy 'panting heart, thy head upon thy spear. 
 
 Eleaz. Come. 
 
 Enter Cardinal and King of Portugal on the 
 onCy and Moors on the other Side. 
 
 Card. Side, upon the Moors. 
 
 1 Moor. Side, upon the cardinal. 
 
 Phil. Hold, cardinal; strike not any of our side. 
 
 Eleaz. Hold, Moors ; strike not any of our side. 
 
 Phil. We two will close this battle. 
 
 Eleaz. Come, agreed. 
 Stand armies and give aim, whilst we two bleed. 
 
 Card. With poniards ! 'tis too desperate, dear 
 Philip. 
 
 Phil. Away ! have at the Moor ! s'heart ! let 
 me come. 
 
 K. of Port. Be arm'd with manly weapons, 
 'tis for slaves 
 To dig their own and such unworthy graves. 
 
 Eleaz. I am for thee any way: thus; or, see, 
 thus ; 
 Here, try the vigour of thy sinewy arm. 
 The day is ours already ; brainless heads, 
 And bleeding bodies, like a crown, do stand 
 About the temples of our victory.
 
 A TRAGEDY. 157 
 
 Yet, Spaniards, if you dare, we'll light it out, 
 Thus, man to man alone. I'll first begin. 
 And conquer, or in blood wade up to the chin. 
 Phil. Let not a weapon stir but his and mine. 
 Eleaz. Nor on this side; conquest in blood 
 shall shine. 
 
 [Alarum ; they fight^ the Moor is struck 
 down ; which his side seeing^ step all in 
 and rescue him ; the rest join, and drive 
 in the Moors. Alarum continuing^ Spa- 
 niards and Moors, with drums and colours^ 
 fly over the stage, pursued by Philip^ 
 Cardinal, King of Portugal, and others. 
 
 Enter Zarack, Christofero, and Eleazar, at 
 several Doors. 
 
 Christo. Where is my lord ? 
 
 Zar. Where is my sovereign? 
 
 Eleaz. What news brings Zarack and Chris- 
 tofero ? 
 
 Zar. Oh, fly my lords ! fly, for the day is lost I 
 
 Eleaz. There are three hundred and odd days 
 in a year. 
 And cannot we lose one of them ? come, fight. 
 
 Christo. The lords have left us, and the soldiers 
 faint; 
 You are round beset with proud fierce enemies; 
 Death cannot be prevented but by flight. 
 
 Eleaz. He shall, Christofero. I have yet left 
 One stratagem, that in despight of fate 
 Shall turn the wheel of war about once more. \: ' 
 The Mother Queen hath all this while sat sadly 
 Within our tent, expecting to whose bosom 
 White-winged peace and victory will fly :
 
 158 LUST*S DOMINION : 
 
 Her have I us'd as a fit property ^ 
 
 To stop this dangerous current ; her have I sent 
 l^Arra'd with love's magic,/to enchant the cardinal, 
 ('And bind revenge down with resistless charms ; 
 ^3y this time does she hang about his neck, 
 j And by the witchcraft of a cunning kiss 
 vHas she disarm 'd him. Hark ! they sound retreat ; 
 She has prevail'd ; a woman's tongue and eye, 
 Are weapons stronger than artillery. [Exeunt. 
 
 uoTffr.>iool Scene rV. 
 
 Enter Cardinal, Queen Mother, Soldiers, 
 .,, .^ ^, Drums and Colours. ,, , 
 
 Qu. Mo. By all those sighs which thou, like 
 passionate tunes. 
 Hast often to my dull ears offered. 
 By all thy hopes to enjoy my royal bed, -* ^ 
 
 By all those mourning lines which thou hast sent, 
 Weeping in black, to tell thy languishment ; 
 ( 'By lovers best, richest treasure,'\which I swear 
 I will bestow, and which none else shall wear, 
 As the most prized jewel, but thyself; ' 
 
 By that bright fire, which, flaming through thine 
 
 eyes, 
 From thy love-scorched bosom does arise, 
 I do conjure thee let no churlish sound, 
 With war's lewd horror my desires confound. 
 D^ar, dear Mendoza ; thus I do entreat, 
 That still thou would'st continue this retreat; 
 I'll hang upon thee, till I hear thee say, 
 Woman prevail ; or chiding, cry'st away. 
 
 Card. Is there no trick in this, forg'd by the 
 Moor?
 
 A TRAGEDY. 159 
 
 Qu. Mo. I would the Moor's damnatioQ were 
 
 the ransom ^ 
 
 Of all the innocent blood that has been shed^^^/ 
 In this black day : I care not for the Moor ; ' / 
 Love to my kingdom's peace makes me put on 
 This habit of a suppliant ; shall I speed ? 
 
 Card. You shall, were it to have my bosolB 
 
 bleed; '^^ 
 
 I have no power to spare the negro's head// <nA 
 When I behold the wounds which his black hand 
 Has given mine honour : but, when I look on you 
 I have no power to hate him ; since your breath 
 Dissolves my frozen heart, being spent for him; 
 In you my life must drown itself or swim ; 
 You have prevail'd : drum, swiftly hence ; call 
 
 back 
 Our fierce pursuing troops, that run to catch ^'^ 
 ^ The laurel wreath of conquest: let it stand '^ 
 Awhile untouch'd by any soldier's hand. '* 
 
 [Jxit druv/ki 
 Away! stay you and guard us. Where's the Moor? 
 I'll lose what I have got, a victor's prize, 
 Yielding myself a prisoner to your eyes. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Mine eyes shall quickly grant you 
 
 liberty. 
 The Moor stays my return ; I'll put on wings 
 And fetch him ; to make peace belongs to kings. 
 
 As she goes out y enter Eleazar, Zarack, BA- 
 TAZAR, and Soldiers well armed; at sight of 
 each other all draw. " ^'MH 
 
 Card. Soldiers, call back the drum, we are be- 
 tray'd. ,.,, j/
 
 160 LusT^s dominion: 
 
 Eleaz. Moors, stand upon your guard ; avoid, 
 look back. 
 
 Qu.Mo. What means this jealousy? Mendoza, 
 Moor, 
 Lay by your weapons and embrace ; the sight 
 Of this, and this, begets suspicion. 
 Eleazar, by my birth, he comes in peace : 
 Mendoza, by mine honour, so comes he. 
 
 Card. Discharge these soldiers then. 
 
 Eleaz. And these. [Soldiers stand aloof. "^ 
 
 Card. Away! 
 
 Eleaz. Go! 
 
 Qu. Mo. Soul rejoice, to see this glorious day. 
 [She joins them together ^ they embrace. 
 
 Card. Your virtues work this wonder. I have 
 met 
 At her most dear command : what's your desires? 
 
 Eleaz. Peace, and your honour'd arms : how 
 loathingly 
 I sounded the alarums, witness heaven. 
 'Twas not to strike your breast, but to let out 
 The rank blood of ambition. That Philip 
 / Makes you his ladder, and being climb'd so high 
 As he may reach a diadem, there you lie. 
 He's base begotten, that's his mother's sin. 
 
 Qu. Mo. God pardon it. 
 
 Eleaz. Ah! a:men. But he's a bastard. 
 And rather than I'll kneel to him, I'll saw 
 My legs off by the thighs, because I'll stand 
 In spite of reverence : he's a bastard, he's ! 
 And to beat down his usurpation 
 I have thrown about this thunder: but, Mendoza, 
 The people hate him for his birth ; 
 He only leans on you, you are his pillar,
 
 A TRAGEDY. l,lBl 
 
 You gone, he walks on crutches or else falls : 
 Then shrink from under him ; are not they 
 Fools, that bearing others up, themselves seem low, 
 Because they above sit high ; why you do so. 
 
 Card. 'Tis true. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Behold this error with fix'd eyes. 
 
 Card. 'Tis true; well. 
 
 JEleaz. Oh ! have you found it ? Have you smelt 
 The train of powder that must blow you up, 
 Up into air ? What air ? Why this, a breath ; 
 Look you ; in this time may a king meet death. 
 An eye to't, check it, check it. 
 
 Card. How? 
 
 Eleaz. How ! thus : 
 Steal from the heat of that incestuous blood, 
 Where ravish'd honour and Philippo lies ; 
 Leave him ; divide this huge and monstrous body 
 Of armed Spaniards into limbs thus big : 
 Part man from man, send every soldier home; 
 I'll do the like : peace, with an olive branch, 
 Shall fly with dove-like wings about all Spain ; 
 The crown, which I as a good husband keep, 
 I will lay down upon the empty chair ; 
 Marry you the queen, and fill it : for my part. 
 These knees are yours, sir. 
 
 Card. Is this sound ? 
 
 Eleaz. From my heart. 
 
 Card. If you prove false 
 
 Eleaz. If I do, let tire fall 
 
 Card. Amen. .,,^ ,,j 
 
 Eleaz. (Aside.) Upon thy head ; and so it shall. 
 
 Card. All of myself is yours ; soldiers, begone. 
 
 Eleaz. And that way you. 
 
 Card. The rest I will divide :
 
 Y 
 
 162 lust's dominion : 
 
 The lords shall be conveuted. 
 Eleaz. Good. 
 Card. Let's meet. 
 Qu. Mo. Where ? 
 
 Eleaz. Here anon, (aside) this is thy winding 
 sheet. [Exit Card. 
 
 (The Moor walks up and down musing.) 
 Qu. Mo. What shape will this prodigious womb 
 bring forth, 
 Which groans with such strange labour ? 
 Eleaz. Excellent! 
 Qu. Mo. Why, Eleazar, art thou wrap'd with 
 
 joys. 
 
 Or does thy sinking policy make to shore? 
 
 Eleaz. Ha! 
 
 Qu.Mo. Eleazar, madman! hear'st thou, Moor? 
 
 Eleaz. Well, so ; you turn my brains ; you mar 
 the face 
 Of my attempts i' the making ; (for this chaos, 
 This lump of projects, ere it be lick'd over, 
 'Tis like a bear's conception ; stratagems 
 Being but begot, and not got out, are like 
 Charg'd cannons not discharg'd, they do no harm 
 Nor good ; true policy breeding in the brain, 
 Is like a bar of iron, whose ribs being broken 
 And soften'd in the fire, you then may foi^e it 
 Into a sword to kill, or to a helmet to defend life : 
 ^ 'Tis therefore wit to try all fashions, 
 ' ' Ere you apparel villany. But, but, 
 I ha' suited him ; fit, fit ; oh, fit 1 
 
 Qu. Mo. How? prithee, how? 
 
 Eleaz. Why thus; yet, no; let's hence; 
 My heart is nearest of my council, yet 
 I scarce dare trust my heart with't; what I do,
 
 A TRAGEDY. ig8 
 
 It shall look old the hour wherein 'tis born ; '^ 
 < Wonders twice seen are garments overworn. 
 
 [Exeiinf. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 Enter Cardinal at one Door; Philippo half 
 armed, and two Soldiers following liim with 
 the rest of the Armour ; the Cardinal seeing 
 him turns hack again. ^ 
 
 Phil. Sirrah ! you, cardinal ! coward ! run 
 away ! 
 So, ho, ho ! what, cardinal ! ;. 
 
 Card. I am not for your lure. ' nH ^[Exit. 
 Phil. For that then, oh ! that it had nail'd thy 
 heart *i**viiJ i^'iifi *^'. ;u8 li^//, ^^'3L 
 Up to the pommel to the earth ; come, arm me. 
 Ha! s'foot! when all our swords, were royally 
 
 gilt with blood, ? > ...fT o fj fjri r '; 
 
 When with red sweat, that trickled from our 
 wounds, -Hi -.ft d 
 
 We had dearly earn'd a victory; when hell 
 Had from their hinges heav'd off* her iron gates, 
 To bid the damn'd Moor and the devils enter, 
 Then to lose all, then to sound base retreat ; 
 Why, soldiers, hah ! 
 
 1 Sold. 1 am glad of it, my lord. 
 Phil. Hah! glad! art glad I am dishonoured? 
 That thou and he dishonoured ? n t 
 
 I *S'o/<;?. Why, my lord, > O 
 
 I am glad that you so cleanly did come ofK*^ 
 Phil. Thou hast a lean face and a carrion heart; 
 i A plague on him and thee too : then, s'heart ! then
 
 164 LUSTS dominion: 
 
 To crack the very heart-strings of our army 
 To quarter it in pieces I could tear my hair, 
 And in cursing spend my soul ; 
 Cardinal ! what, Judas ! come, we'll fight 
 Till there be left but one ; if I be he, 
 I'll die a glorious death. 
 
 1 Sold. So will I, I hope, in my bed. 
 
 ^ Sold. Till there be but one left, my lord ? 
 W hy that's now ; for all our fellows are crawl'd 
 home ; some with one leg, some ne'er an arm, 
 some with their brains beaten out, and glad they 
 'scaped so. 
 
 Phil. But, my dear countrymen, you'll stick 
 to me? 
 
 1 Sold. Stick ! aye, my lord, stick like bandogs, 
 till we be pull'd off. 
 
 Phil. That's nobly said: I'll lead you but to 
 death. 
 Where I'll have greatest share ; we shall win fame 
 For life, and that doth crown a soldier's name. 
 
 1 Sold. How ! to death, my lord ? Not I, by 
 Gad's-lid : I have a poor wife and children at 
 home, and if I die, they beg : and do you think 
 I'll see her go up and down the wide universal 
 world ? 
 
 Phil. For every drop of blood which thou shalt 
 lose. 
 Coward, I'll give thy wife a wedge of gold. 
 
 2 Sold. Hang him, meacock! my lord, arm 
 yourself; I'll fight for you, till I have not an eye 
 to see the fire in my touch-hole. 
 
 Phil. Be thou a king's companion ; thou, and I, 
 Will dare the cardinal and the Moor to tight 
 In single combat ; shall we } hah !
 
 A TRAGEDY. \6^- 
 
 2 Sold. Agreed. 
 
 Phil. We'll beat 'em to hell gate; shall we? 
 
 hah ! 
 2 Sold. Hell gate's somewhat too hot, some- 
 what too hot ; the porter's a knave : I'd be loath 
 to be damn'd for my consciedce ; I'll knock any 
 body's costard^ so I knock not there, my lord ; 
 hell gates ! 
 
 Phil. A pox upon such slaves ! 
 1 Sold. Hang him, a peasant : my lord, you 
 see I am but a scrag ; my lord, my legs are not ^ i^ 
 [ of the biggest, nor the least, nor the best that ^ ^ ** , ' 
 ^ e'er were stood upon, nor the worst; but they 
 > are of God's making; and for your sake, if ever 
 we put our enemies to flight again, by Gad's-lid, 
 if I run not after them like a tiger, hoffe me. 
 Phil. But wilt thou stand to't ere they fly? 
 
 ha ! wilt thou? 
 1 Sold. Will I, quoth-a 1 by this hand and the 
 
 honour of a soldier. 
 Phil. And by a soldier's honour I will load thee 
 With Spanish pistolets : to have this head, 
 ^ Thy face, and all thy body stuck w ith scars, 
 I Why 'tis a sight more glorious than to see 
 ^ A lady hung with diamonds. If thou lose 
 A hand, I'll send this after ; if an arm, 
 I'll lend thee one of mine ; come then, let's fight. 
 A mangled, lame, true soldier is a gem 
 Worth Caesar's empire, though fools spurn at them. 
 1 Sold. Yet, my lord, I have seen lame sol- 
 diers not worth the crutches they leant upon; 
 hands and arms quoth-he ! zounds, not I : I'll 
 double my files, or stand centry, or so ; but I'll
 
 1G6 LUSTS DOMINION : 
 
 be hanged and quartered before I'll have my mem- 
 bers cut off. 
 
 2 Sold. And I too, hold thee there. 
 
 [Seats them both in. 
 Phil. Hold you both there ; away, you rogues, 
 vou dirt ; ^^ ^^^ 
 
 Thus do I tread upon you; out, begone! 
 One valiant is an host, fight then alone. 
 
 Enter Cardinal, Alvero, Christofero, and 
 Soldiers. 
 
 Card. Prince Philip. 
 
 Phil. For the crown of Spain, come all. 
 
 Card. We come in love and peace. 
 
 Phil. But come in war ; 
 Bring naked swords, not laurel boughs ; in peace! 
 Plague on your rank peace ! will you fight and 
 
 cry, 
 Down with the Moor? and then I'm yours ; I'll die. 
 I have a heart, two arms, a soul, a head ; 
 I'll lay that down ; I'll venture all ; s'foot, all ! 
 Come tread upon me, so that Moor may fall. 
 
 Card. By heaven, that Moor shall fall. 
 
 Phil. Thy hand and thine. 
 
 V .' [Flings down his iveapons. 
 
 Give me but half your hearts, you have all mine; 
 By heaven, shall he fall? 
 
 Card. Yes, upon thee. 
 Like to the ruins of a tower, to grind 
 Thy body into dust. Traitor and bastard, 
 I do arrest thee of high treason. 
 
 Phil. Hah! 
 Traitor and bastard ! and by thee ! my w eapons.
 
 A TRAGEDY. 167; 
 
 Card. Lay hands upon him! 
 
 Phil. Ah! you're best do so. v... 
 
 Card. Alvero, there's the warrant; to your 
 hands 
 The prisoner is committed. Lords, let's part : 
 Look to him on your life. [^Exeunt Card. 6fc. 
 
 Manent Philip and Alvero. 
 
 Phil. Heart ! heart ! heart I heart ! 
 
 [Tears the warrant. 
 The devil and his dam, the Moor and my mother, 
 Their warrant ! I will not obey : old grey beard, 
 Thou shalt not be my jailer ; there's no prison, 
 No dungeon deep enough, no grates so strong. 
 That can keep in a man so mad with wrong. 
 What, dost thou weep? ., 
 
 Alv. I would fain shed a tear. 
 But from mine eyes so many show'rs are gone; 
 Grief drinks my tears so fast, that here's not one. 
 You must to prison. 
 
 Phil. Dost thou speak to me ? 
 
 Alv. You must to prison. 
 
 Phil. And from thence to death. , ,.| . , 
 I thought I should have had a tomb hung round 
 With tatter'd colours, broken spears ; I thought 
 My body should have fallen down full of wounds. 
 But one can kill an emperor, fool, then why ? ,, 
 Would'st thou have many ? Curse, bemad, and
 
 168 lust's dominion : 
 
 'ft 'Ml. 
 
 ACT V. Scene I. 
 
 jEw/^ RoDERiGO and Christofero; tivo bat^ 
 headed before them ; Cardinal a/owe; Zarack 
 and ^Ki/TkZKVi bearing the Crown on a Cushion; 
 Eleazar 7ixt ; Queen Mother after him; 
 other Lords after her; Alvero, sad^ meel^ 
 them, f'--'^^' I'* 
 
 Card. Alvero, 'tis the pleasure of the king, 
 Of the Queen Mother, and these honoured st^f^, 
 ^To ease you of Philip; there's a warrant -'^^ ^ 
 Sent to remove him to a stronger guard. 
 
 Alv. I thank you, you shall rid me of much care. 
 
 Eleaz, Sit down, and take your place. 
 
 Alv. If I might have the place I like best, 
 It should be my grave. [Sits down. 
 
 ,.[_The Moors stand aside with the crown : 
 Eleazar, risinu\ takes it. r 
 
 Eleaz. Stand m voice reach, away J^ - 
 
 Eoth Moors. We are gone. [Exeunt. 
 
 Eleaz. Princes of Spain, if in this royal court 
 There sit a man, that having laid his hold 
 So fast on such a jewel, and dare wear it 
 In the contempt of envy, as I dare, iF-n'^l 
 
 Yet uncompeU'd (as freely as poor pilgrims ,^^^1 
 Bestow their prayers) would give such weal{h 
 
 away; ^, ^ 
 
 Let such a man step forth ; what, do none yiae ? 
 No, no, for kings indeed are deities ; ^, j^,^q .-r 
 And who'd not (as ihe sun) in brightness shme?
 
 A TRAGEDY. 169 
 
 To be the greatest is to be divine. 
 Who among millions, would not be the mightiest? 
 To'sit in godlike state ; to have all eyes 
 Dazzled with admiration, and all tongues 
 Shouting loud prayers ; to rob every heart 
 Of love ; to have the strength of every arm : 
 A sovereign's name, why *tis a sovereign charm. ' 
 This glory round about me hath thrown beams: 
 I have stood upon the top of fortune's wheel, 
 And backward turn'd the iron screw of fate. 
 The destinies have spun a silken thread 
 About my life ; yet, noble Spaniards, see 
 Hoc tantum tanti, thus I cast aside 
 The shape of majesty, and on my knee, 
 
 [Kneels : the Cardinal fetches the crown and 
 sets it on the chair. 
 
 To this imperial state lowly resign * 
 
 This usurpation ; wiping off your fears 
 Which stuck so hard upon me ; let a hand, 
 A right and royal hand, take up this wreath 
 And guard it; right is of itself most strong; 
 No kingdom got by cunning can stand long. 
 
 Card. Proceed to new election of a king. 
 
 AIL Agreed. Mi^^v^a .A-v^vii.. 
 
 Eleaz. Stay, peers of Spain ! if young Phiiippo 
 Be Philip's son, then is he Philip's heir; 
 Then must his royal name be set in gold ; . '' 
 Philip is then the diamond to that ring; ^^*'* ' * 
 But if he be a bastard, here's, his seat, 
 For baseness has no gall till it grow great: 
 First, therefore, let him blood if he must bleed, 
 Yet in what vein you strike him best take heed ; 
 The Portugal's his friend ; you saw he came, ' '' 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 170 lust's dominion : 
 
 At holding up a finger, arm'd : this peace 
 Rid hence his dangerous friendship ; he's at home; 
 But when he hears that Philip is ty'd up, 
 Yet hears not why, he'll catch occasion's lock, 
 And on that narrow bridge make shift to lead 
 A scrambling army through the heart of Spain: 
 Look to't; being in, he'll hardly out again. 
 Therefore, first prove and then proclaim him 
 bastard. 
 
 jilv. How shall we prove it? 
 
 Eleaz. He that put him out to making s, 
 I am sur^ can tell ; if not. 
 Then she that shap'd him can : here's the Queeo^ 
 
 Mother, 
 Being prick'd in conscience, and preferring Spain 
 Before her own respect, will name the man. 
 If he be noble, and a Spaniard born. 
 He'll hide the apparent scars of their infamies, 
 With the white hand of marriage ; that and time 
 Will eat the blemish off: say, shall it? 
 
 All. No. . ^/ i 
 
 Card. Spaniard or Moor, me saucy slave shall 
 die. 
 " Horten. Death is too easy for such villany^ 
 
 Eleaz. Spaniard or Moor, the saucy slave 
 shall die. rr, t., 
 
 I would he might ; I know myself am clear j 
 
 As is the new-born infant. Madam, stand forth^ 
 Be bold to speak, shame in the grave wants sense, 
 Heaven M^ith sin's greatest forfeits can dispense. . 
 
 Qu. Mo. Would I were cover'd with the yejt 
 ,^ of night, >, 
 
 Ybif might not see red shame sit on my cheeks ;
 
 A TRAGEDY. ifi 
 
 But being Spain's common safety sfaiids'^oririittu 
 Hiding ray weeping eyes, I blush and say, ^''" '\> 
 Philippo's father sits here. . 
 
 Rod. Here! name him. V A 
 
 Qu. Mo. The Lord Mendoza did beget that sou; 
 Oh ! let not this dishonour further run. ( 
 
 Alv. What, Cardinal Mendoza ? /. 
 
 VM. Mo. Yes, yes, even he. vyf^i-^^i 
 
 Eleaz. Spaniard or Moor, the saucy dave 
 shall die. ^ 
 
 Card. I Philip's father ! '"^^^ j, 
 
 -L [Comes doivriy the rest talk.^ 
 
 Qii. Mo. Nay, deny me not; 
 Now may a kingdom and my love be got. ,. 
 
 Card. Those eyes and tongue bewitch m^ 
 'shame lie here; ^* ' V ; 
 
 That love has sweetest taste that is bought dean 
 
 Christo. What answers Lord Mendoza to the 
 queen? _ ^.^ 
 
 Card. I confess guilty, Philip is my son ; . 
 Her majesty hath nam'd the time and place. ^ 
 
 Alv. To you, but not to us ; go forward, madam. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Within the circle of twice ten years 
 since, ^^^ 
 
 Your deceas'd king made war in Barbary, 
 Won Tunis, conquer'd Fesse, and hand to hand 
 Slew great Abdela, king of Fesse, and father 
 To that Barbarian prince. J 
 
 Eleaz. I was but young, but now methinks ^ 
 \ seeimr father's wounds: poor Barbariat 
 
 o more. . 
 
 Qu. Mo. In absence of my lord, tfSotur^iDe bis 
 
 To me alone being in my private walk 
 
 n2
 
 If^l^ii^kat Salamanca: ye?, 'twas there; -tf 
 Enters Mendoza, under shew of shrift *, 
 Threatens my death if I defiy'd his lust. 
 In fine, by force he won me to his will : ^ 
 
 I w^pt and cry'd for help, but all in vain, 
 Mendoza there abus'd the bed of Spain. 
 
 Eleaz. Spaniard or Moor, that saucy slave 
 shall die. ^ ^^, ^,3^. ,, j .[^siWe. 
 
 Alv. Why did not you complain of this vile apt? 
 
 Qu. Mo. Alas ! I was alone, young, full of fear, 
 Bashful and doubtful of my own defame ; -^ 
 Knowing King Philip rash and jealouS|^f ^^q 
 I hid his sins thinking to hide my shame, ^ j^^^^j^j,. 
 
 Morten. What says the cardinal? j , 
 
 Card. Such a time there was; ^^^,f, 
 
 'Tis past : 111 make amends with marriage^^^s^ 
 And satisfy with trentals f, dirges, prayers, 
 The offended spirit of the wronged king. 
 !. [Queen and they talk. 
 
 Eleaz. Spaniard or Moor, the saucy slave 
 
 Tto q> shall die. tijipu/.v i^iii^ t *^ i ol 
 
 Oh ! 'twould seem best it should be thus, Mendoza ; 
 She to accuse, I urge, and both conclu,<^ ^ 
 Your marriage, like a comic interlude., ^ , f\ 
 I^oixis, will you hear this hateful sin confess'd^ 
 And not impose upon the ravisher death. 
 The due punishment? Oh ! it must bc^^jji c,^/^ 
 Alv. What does the queeu desire ? ^-,j ..^ Hiti T 
 Qu.Mo. Justice, revenge^,.;|i o,n<l .c)lfi. .u^ 
 On vile Mendoza for my ravishment. ,7 ftt^'^j 
 I kiss the cold earth with my humble knees, 
 
 * ' Under she^^v of sTirift," or, in other words, as coraidg to 
 hear me confess, 
 t " Trentals," thirty masses on the same account,:.-
 
 From whence T will not rise till s(:mie just "'hand 
 
 Cast to the ground the traitor cardinal. ^^' > i )>k4 
 AIL Stand forth, Mendoza. '^ -Ji>Jsaiii j 
 
 Eleaz. Swells your heart so high ? ' ^^ ^"U , 
 
 Down, letcher ; if you will not stand, ^^ffel^ ' 
 Card. You have betray'd me, by my too much 
 trust ; ^'^^^'^ 
 
 I never did this deed of rape and lust. 
 
 Hod. Your tongue confess'd it. "* 
 
 Card. True, I was entic'd. '- ^^ 
 
 Eleaz. Entic'd! do you believe that?'' *"Wb^'^< 
 Qu, Mo. Justice, lords; A^ufMon)! 
 
 Sentence the cardinal for his hateful sm. '' *- '^ 
 Alv. We will assemble all the states of Spain, 
 
 And as they judge so jusltce shall be done. - 
 Eleaz. A guard : to prison with the cardinaf. 
 
 Enter Zarack, Baltazar, and otJiers. ., 
 
 Card. Damn'd slave, my tongue shall go at 
 liberty '^ J)1 uii4ci|<i .5^j iVd 
 
 To curse thee, ban that strumpet ; dogs keep off. 
 Eleaz. Hist! hist! on I on 1 w... . .ii 
 
 Qu. Mo. I cannot brook his sight ^^' "^ J^' 
 Alv. You must to prison, and be patient. 
 Card. Weep'st thou, A hero? all struck dumb? 
 My fears ' - ^^ "" '"'' i--^^--'' 
 
 Are that those drops will change ' to M<*)d^teaf4. 
 
 This woman, and this serpent 
 
 Qu.Mo. Drag him hence. V:ifci>i ,.*1^ .^^ 
 Card. Who dares lay hands upon me ? Lords 
 of Spain, 
 Let your swords bail me : this false queen did lie. 
 Eleaz. Spaniard or Moor, the saucy slave 
 shall die.
 
 174 lust's DOMINION : 
 
 Card. I'll fight thee, damn'd hell-hound, for 
 
 ray life. 
 Eleaz. Spaniard or Moor, the saucy slave 
 
 x>x V shall die,, ^^^ iii^ii>V- \ B 
 
 Card. I'll prove upon thy head 
 
 Eleaz. The slave shall die. 
 
 Card. Lords, stop this villain's throat. 
 
 Eleaz. Shall die, shall die. 
 
 Card. Hear me but speak. 
 
 Eleaz. Away. 
 
 Alv. Words are ill spent, 
 Were wrong* sits judge ; you're arra'd if innocent. 
 
 Card. Well then, I must to prison : Moor, no 
 more. 
 Heavens thou art just! Prince Philip I betray 'd, 
 And now myself fall ; guile with guile is paid. 
 
 ,Oi>&li iidlliiiA.x/ J.l> ;.7-j _.'.!..;/ -dJ.OJVJ -T Exit 
 
 Qu. Mo. JPKiIip being prov'd a bastard, who 
 shall sit 
 Upon this empty throne? 
 
 Eleaz. Strumpet! not you. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Strumpet ! and I not sit there I who 
 then? 
 
 Eleaz. Down ! "^ *^^ 
 
 Back ! if she touch it she'll bewitch the chair; 
 This throne belongs to Isabel the faih t*** 
 Bring forth the princess dress'd in royal robes, 
 The true affecter of Alvero's son, 
 Virtuous Hortenzo. Lords, behold your queen. 
 
 riiio [./'{?. It . Jifod/' 
 
 3imDlJB3(5!v>?'|Ofi7
 
 Scene II. ^^^^ 
 
 Enter Isabella, in Royal Robes. Hortenzo. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Thou villain, what intend'st thpu? 
 savage slave 1|(,, ^,,1^'^.,, ,;,f^,. v>-.^i5 
 
 Eleaz. To advance virtue thus, and thus to tread 
 On lust, on murder, on adultery's head. 
 Look lords upon your sovereign Isabel; ^ 
 Though all may doubt the fruits of such a womb, 
 Is she not like King Philip? Let her rule, ^ y/ 
 
 Qu. Mo. She rule ! 
 
 Eleaz. She rule : aye she. 
 
 Qu. Mo. A child to sway an empire ? I amber 
 
 protectress; .vm vrtif hrrA 
 
 I'll pour black curses on thy damned head, 
 If thou wrongst me. Lords! l(Wf(W , ^5 ^yy 
 
 Eleaz. Princes of Spain, ^v|.^ ^^.^^ ;* 
 
 Be deaf, be blind; hear not, behold her not; .r^ 
 She kill'd my virtuous wife. ^%V>\ 
 
 . Qu. Mo. He kill'd your king. Y? x^O 
 
 Eleaz. 'Twas in my just wrath. ^^ 
 
 Qu. Mo. 'Twas to get his crowiu^/i ->n*T* 
 Eleaz. His crown! why here 'tis: thouslew'st 
 my Maria, ,^ |. 
 
 To have access to my un9tati|>|B4b^4- i^j 'huiQ, 
 Qu. Mo. Oh, heaven! , ,. - ^ '^^- ,;,) ^^YV 
 JEleaz. 'Tistrue: how often have I atop'4,fifV 
 Thy unchaste songs from passing through mine 
 
 ears. 
 How oft, when thy luxurious arms have twin'd 
 About my jetty neck, have I cry'd out. 
 Away, those scalding veins burn me : 'tis true.
 
 176 lust's dominion : 
 
 Qu. Mo. DeviJ, 'tis a lie.j-p u nt^rt M 
 
 Eleaz. Thou slew'st ruy sweet Maria ; 
 Alvero, 'twas thy daughter, 'twas ; Hortenzo, 
 She was thy sister; justice, Isabella; 
 This serpent poison'd thy dear father's bed, 
 Setting large horns on his imperial head. ^& 
 Qu.Mo. Hear me! .i> 
 
 Eleaz. Hah \ why ? ' ^ 
 
 Alv. Madam, you shall be heard 'n 
 
 Before the courts, before the courts of Spaini"^ 
 Eleaz. A guard ! a guard ! ^ ^-^ 
 
 Enter two Moors and others. ^ ? 
 
 Qu. Mo. A guard ! for what? for whom^ v ; > 
 
 Morten. To wait on you ; t . i 
 
 So many great sins must not wait with few. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Keep me in prison ! dare you, lords ? 
 
 Alv. Oh no ! 
 Were your cause strong, we would not arm youso; 
 But honour fainting, needeth many hand&;ij4 : / 
 Kingdoms stand safe, when mischief lies in bands. 
 You must to prison. [^Exeunt. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Must I ! must I ! Slave, 
 I'll damn thee ere thou triumph 'st o'er my grave. 
 
 [Exit with a guard. 
 
 iij ;> i'.j^ > ; V;' . : . . , ;; ''-./(,: 
 
 jy. ^'^y^'^^^^^^^m.^ 
 
 '.LMi U 
 
 S'\ 
 
 rt(,> 
 
 \<i3f7p^\xfiiiM^^^^ Eleazar. ^,i^;j jrtatf/^fe, i 
 Eleaz. Do, do, my jocund spleen ! .>^^ ^' '"^^ l^ 
 It does, it will, it shall. I have at one* throw ^ 
 Rifled away the diadem of Spain ; ' < 
 'Tis gone, and there's no more to set but this n(\ 
 At all ; then at this last cast I'll sweep up'<*Y'I
 
 My former petty losses, or lose all, s asV 
 
 Like to a desperate gamester. 
 
 Enter Zarack. 
 
 Hah! how? fast? 
 
 Zar. Except their bodies turn to airy spirits. 
 And fly through windows, they are safe, my lord : 
 If they can eat through locks and bars of iron, 
 They may escape ; if not, then. pot. 
 ^ JEleaz. Oh, Zarack ! M'-n , 
 f Wit is a thief; there's pick-lock policy, 
 V To whom all doors fly open ; therefore, go, 
 In our name charge the keeper to resign 
 His office; and if he have tricks of cruelty, ^^^ 
 Let him bequeath 'em at his death, for kill hfti. 
 Turn all thy body into eyes, ""^ *'**^ii .nmn o< 
 \ And watch them ; let those eyes, ]iS:e fiery'cotfyts, 
 - Sparkle out nothing but the death of kings. ^ 
 And ah ! now thus : thou know'st I did invent ^ 
 A torturing iion chain. ^^* ^sm^um't '>iiK>il 
 Zar. Oh, for necks, my lord. n'- 'iaMC/)ji.. /. 
 Eleaz. Aye; that, that, that; aWay, aad yok^ 
 them, stay, 'S' 
 
 Enter Baltazar. 
 
 Here's Baltazar : go both, teach them to preach . 
 Through an iron pillory. I'J^l spread a net 
 
 ^ To catch Alvero ; oh, he is old and wise ; 
 
 )They are unfit to live, that have sharp eyes. 
 Hortenzo, Roderigo, to't, to't : all s M'^ix 
 They have supple knees, sieak'4 .l^Qj^Ke^^Jl^uli 
 hearts of galU ^y -%h - Tiir v ,wc haftfD 
 The bitterness shall be wash'd off with bloQ^^.i I 
 Tyrants swim safest in a crimson flood. , i ,, ., ^, 
 Bait. I come to tell your grace, that Isabella
 
 f?8 lust's dominion : 
 
 Is with Hortenzo arm in arm at hand j' * "'^ ^V 
 Zarack and I may kill them now with ease. i^ 
 Is't done ? and then, 'tis done. 
 
 Zar. Murther thou the man, i 
 
 And I'll stab her. ^, 
 
 Eleaz. No, I'll speed * her myself. 
 Arm in arm, so, so ; look upon this ring;t^ A>5 
 Whoever bring-s this token to your hands, ''- 
 
 Regard not for what purpose, seize on them, 
 And chain them to the rest : they come, away. 
 Murder be proud, and tragedy laugh on, 
 I'll seek a stage for thee to jet f upowji r6\ > 
 
 "i^l^r Isabella and Hortenzo , seeing the 
 Moor, they turn back. 
 
 Eleaz. My lord, my lord HortenzoH %.^^A 
 
 Horten. Hah ! is't you ? ^ t > .;.. jo } 
 ^rust me I saw you not. r>*;V fn 
 
 Eleaz. What makes your grace so sad^..^^ ^.j'^ 
 
 Horten. She grieves for the imprison'd queen, 
 her mother, ,.. ,,,y j^a 
 
 And for Philip; in the sandy heap - -- i i 
 That wait upon an hour, there are not foun4 >; 
 So many little bodies, as those sighs ^ fjf^Q ^nilV: 
 And tears which she hath every minute spent, q 
 Since her lov'd brother felt imprisonment. - a/ 
 
 Eleaz. Pity, great pity ; would it lay in in^, >i^ 
 To give him liberty. >>Jr{ ^niM ^^ 
 
 Isa. It does. :^isU t^*-^ 
 
 Eleaz, In me ! 
 Free him, your mother queen, and cardinal too. 
 In me I alas ! not me ; no, no ; in you; ) ~^^{^ 
 
 * " Speed," to destroy, to kill. t " Jet," to strut.
 
 A TRAGEDY. " Vf9 
 
 Yet, for I'll have my conscience white and pure. 
 Here, madam, take this ring ; and if my name 
 Can break down castle-walls and open gates, id 
 Take it, and do't ; fetch them all forth, and yet 
 'Tis unfit you should go. 
 
 Horteii. That happy oflGice I'll execute myself. 
 
 Eleaz. Will you ? Would I nn m mtK 
 
 Stood gracious in their sight. Well, go, 's/9>iiW 
 Do what you will : Hortenzo, if this charm 
 Unbinds them, here 'tis : lady, you and I 
 Aloof will follow him, and when we meet '' 
 
 Speak for me, for I'll kiss Philippo's feet.^'98\i' ' 
 
 Horten. 1 shall be proud to see all reconciled. 
 
 [Eaeit. 
 
 Eleaz. Alas, my lord ! why true ; go, go. 
 
 Isa. Make haste, dear love. 
 
 Eleaz. Hortenzo is a man 'i -*\ra4,A 
 
 Conipos'd of sweet proportion ; has a fo6t,^ ^^'^ 
 A leg, a hand, a face, an eye, a wit, ^ j'"5 ^ 
 
 The best, Hortenzo, in the Spanish court.^^^ 
 Oh ! he's the nonpareil. ^'*^. 
 
 Isa. Your tongue had wont "^^ ^^^ 
 
 To be more sparing in Hortenzo's pi'aise. ' ' '^ 
 
 Eleaz. Ah! I may curse his praises, rather baii 
 Mine own nativity : why did this colour ^^ff^ o'^ 
 Dart in my flesh so far! Oh ! would my face '^ A 
 Were of Hortenzo's fashion; else would youre ^^ 
 Were as black as mine is. 
 
 Isa. Mine like yours, why ? ^^JJ? f>T 
 
 Eleaz. Hark, -^ 
 
 I love you ; yes, faith, I said this, I love you^i 
 I do ; leave him. ->^'J "^ 
 
 Isa, Damnation, vanish from me. > f sm of
 
 Were you as hard as flint, oh ! you should yield 
 Like soften'd wax; were you as pure as fire, 
 I'd touch you ; yes, I'll taint you : see you this, 
 I'll bring you to this lure. 
 
 Isa. If I want hands 
 To kill myself before thou do'st it, do. 
 
 Eleaz. I'll cut away your hands. Well, my 
 ' ' desire ' " '^ ' '^ 
 
 Dsr'i^ging as the area, mid mttd Itr^&f^. * 
 
 Will you ? :*v*^w n , *; H^^ vv^4 stikS^misik^T , 
 
 Isa. Torment me not, good devil. 
 Eleaz. Will you? ' ^ V ;^ ^ 
 
 Isa. I'll tear mine eyes out il" ttiBjr'teiiipi'liLj 
 lust. -^-^^-^^*^-'^'-^-' -' -^.-u-T 
 
 Eleaz. B<yJ''^''' ^'' 
 
 Isa. Touch me not; these knives 
 
 Eleaz. Ah, ah : kill yourself, 
 Because I jest with you. I wrong Hortenzo.^^ 
 Settle your thoughts, 'twas but a trick, to try 
 That which few women have, true constancy.* 
 
 Isa. If then my speeches taste ef gall '-^ 
 
 Eleaz. Nay, faith, ' '^ *^ 
 
 You are not bitter; no; you should have rail'd, 
 Have spit upon me, spurn'd me; you are liM 
 bittef f * f-j'"' '>^" '.-- iif^^i'* i u^ * jj < 
 
 ^ Why, do yott tfiink ttiatfdnursfe^atfifeTip^-' '^ 
 I To hurt your honour ? If that thought had brains 
 I'd beat them out. But come; by this Hortenzo 
 Is fast. -^-^'^^i-^i*^^'- 
 
 /sfl. Hah! fast? ' -^iu^lV 
 
 Eleaz. Aye, fast in Philip's arms ; '^' f^"^ 
 Wrestling together for the price of lovtr; ^^fS*.
 
 By this they're on the way : I'll be your guard ; 
 Come follow me; I'll lead you in the van, i 
 
 , (Aside,) Where thou shalt see foyrj, chins upon 
 
 ^ m 
 
 tftt.^JitJ'SCENE IV. ' 
 
 HORTENZO, QUBPN MOTHER, CARDINAL, and 
 
 Philip, chained by the Necks, Zarack and 
 
 Baltazar busy about fastening Hortenzq^// 
 
 i 
 Horten. You damned ministers of villafljy*^ = 
 
 Sworn to damnation by the l^iook of hell ; ^ .^ 
 
 y You maps of night, you element of devilsj, 
 
 Why do you yoke my neck with iron chainspr 
 
 Baltaz. Many do borrow cb^ipis, bujtyou^ye 
 
 this, i 1 .n 
 
 Gratis, for nothing. 
 
 Card. Slaves, unbind us. ^^,|,,yj^,,^,i^>^^ 
 
 ^f^) 
 
 Both. No. [Exeunt the two 3Ioor$r 
 
 Phil. I am impatient; veins, why crack you not. 
 And tilt your blood into the face of heaven, ' 
 To make red clouds, like ensigns in the sky, 
 Displaying a damn'd tyrant's cruelty ! 
 Yet can I laugh in my extremest pangs 
 Of blood and spirit, to see the cardinal 
 Keep rank with me ; and my vile mother queen, 
 To see herself where she would have me seep^ j 
 Good fellowship i'faith. <^^-A 
 
 Horten. And I can tell, , , ^ i# ! ^1 
 
 True misery loves a companion ^ye^.. ^. ., .^-^^ 
 
 Phil. Thoyi ieft'st pie to tjlje mercy of,^,Mpoi> 
 That hath damnation dy'd upon his flesh ;
 
 182 lust's dominion : 
 
 Twas well ; thou, mother, didst immotherly 
 Betray thy true son to false bastardy ; 
 Thouleft'st me then,'now thou art found and staid; 
 And thou who did'st betray me art betray 'd. 
 A plague upon you all ! 
 
 Card. Thou cursest them, ^^^^ 
 
 Whom I may curse : first, may I curse myself. 
 Too credulous of loyalty and love ; 
 Next may I curse the Moor, more than a devil ; 
 And last thy mother, mother of all evil. * 
 
 Qu. Mo. All curses and all crosses light on thee ! 
 What need I curse myself when all curse me 
 I have been deadly impious I confess, ^ 
 
 Forgive me, and my sin will seem the less. 
 This heavy chain which now my neck assaults, 
 Weighs ten times lighter than my heavy faults. 
 
 Phil. Hortenzo, 1 commend myself to thee ; 
 Thou that art near'st, stand'st furthest off from me. 
 
 Horten. That mould of hell, that Moor, has 
 chain'd me here ; n .wnfii ,5*^;i 
 
 Tis not myself, but Isabel I fear, .UjI/. 
 
 ^t)B^rt v>d r* Scene V. ^iiq.ailf 
 
 Enter Eleazar, Isabella, Zarack, and B)ili<<^B 
 
 TAZAR. jj>, VoH 
 
 Eleaz. It's strange ? Kidii eiiii lavO 
 
 Will not Prince Philip come with Hortenzo ? 
 Zar. He swears he'll live and die there. ^^" 
 Eleaz. Marry, and shall. [Aside. 
 
 I pray persuade him, you, to leave the place. 
 
 A prison 1 why it's hell. Alas, here they be ! . 
 
 Hah ! they are they i'faith ; see, see, see, s6e'. ^
 
 A TRAGEDY, i i 
 
 All. Moor, devil, toad, serpent 1 t tu'A -kv/ 
 JEleaz. Oh, sweet airs, sweet voices ! 
 Jsa. Oh, my Hortenzo ! 
 
 JEleaz. Do not these birds sing sweetly, Isabella? 
 
 Oh ! how their spirits would leap aloft and springs 
 
 Had they their throats at liberty to sing ! ^ 
 
 Phil, Damnation dog thee. rf^ 
 
 Card. Furies follow thee. *-i'j e^T 
 
 Qu. Mo. Comets confound thee. n Va-^V! 
 
 Horten. And hell swallow thee. \ hff A 
 
 Eleaz. Sweeter and sweeter still. Oh, harmony ! 
 
 Why there's no music like to misery, b^i^tr tui^^^ 
 
 Isa. Hast thou betray 'd me thusli n /od e^efi ) 
 
 Eleaz. Not I, not I. -mi evi^o*^ 
 
 Phil. Sirrah! hedge-hog. rvB9i1 J^rffl 
 
 Eleaz. Hah! I'll hear thee presently! it f^ff'2?'^^ 
 
 Isa. Hear me then, hell-hound ; slaves, unchaiD 
 
 my love, 
 
 Oiby -^ 
 
 Eleaz. By what? Is't not rare walking here? 
 Methinks this stage shews like a tennis court; . 
 Does it not Isabel ? I'll shew thee how. 
 Suppose that iron chain to be the line. 
 The prison doors the hazard, and their heads. 
 Scarce peeping o'er the line, suppose the balls ; 
 Had I a racket now of burnish'd steel. 
 How smoothly could I bandy every ball 
 Over this globe of earth, win set, and all. -.\':^, 
 - PhiL How brisk the villain jets in villany. 
 Eleaz. Prating ! he's proud because he wears 
 a chain : ^^y.^Vii - 
 
 Take itp^ ^^t^^ar, apd take him hence, v v^^q i 
 
 f .^v i> .^,, > !/ ' [They uiibind him( f 
 PA^lv And whither then, you dog? ^^^i) ' lUH
 
 184 lust's dominion : 
 
 Isa. Pity my brother. 
 
 JEleaz. Pity him ! no ; away I I come, do come. 
 
 Phil. I pray thee kill me : come. 
 
 Eleaz. I hope to see 
 Thy own hands do that office. Down with him ! 
 
 Phil. Is there another hell ? 
 
 2 Moors. Try, try ; he's gone. 
 
 Eleaz. So him next, he next, and next him ; 
 and then 
 
 All. Worse than damnation! fiend, monster of 
 men ! 
 
 Eleaz. Why, when? Down, down! i 
 
 Card. Slave, as thou thrust me down 
 Into this dungeon, so sink thou to hell. 
 
 Qu, Mo. Amen, amen. 
 
 Eleaz. Together so ; and you. 
 
 Jsa. O pity my Hortenzo ! 
 
 Horten. Farewell, my Isabel; my life, adieu. 
 
 All. Mischief and horror, let the Moor pursue ! 
 
 Eleaz. A concert ! that amain * ; play that 
 amain ; i 
 
 Amain, amain. No ; so soon fallen asleep ! 1^ 
 Nay, I'll not lose this music; sirrah, sirrah, ^ 
 Take thou a drum, a trumpet thou ; and hark, 
 Mad them with villainous sounds. 
 
 Zar. Rare sport ; let's go. 
 
 [^Exeunt Zarack and Ealtazar. 
 
 Eleaz. About it: music will do well in woe. 
 How like you this ? mtWmmb P, *X 
 
 Isa. Set my Hortenzo free, ;z,j^t^^ kv^y^ 
 And I'll like any thing. 1^*****^ fr. 
 
 Eleaz. A fool, a fool. ,,j j ^ ^kHi^iir j^h*-* tiin w 
 
 * *' Amain," with force, vigour, energy, vehemence. >
 
 Hortenzo free! why look you; he free1 *no*; 
 Then iiiiist he marry you ; you must be queep. 
 He in a manner king; these dignities, J' 
 
 Like poison, make men swell ; this ratsbane 
 
 honour, 
 Oh, 'tis so sweet ! they'll lick it till all burst: 
 /^ He will be proud ; and pride, you know, must fall. 
 Come, come, he shall not ; no, no, 'tis more meet 
 To keep him down safe standing on his feet. 
 
 Isa: Eleazar! 
 
 Eleaz. Mark, the imperial chair of Spain 
 { Is now as empty as a miser's alms : 
 Be wise, I yet dare sit in't; it's for you. 
 If you will be for me ; there's room for two. 
 Do meditate ; muse on't : its best for thee 
 To love me, live with me, and lie with me. 
 
 Isa. Thou know'st I'll first lie in the arms of 
 death. 
 My meditations are how to revenge , t 
 
 Thy bloody tyrannies. I fear thee not. 
 Inhuman slave, but to thy face defy i 
 
 Thy lust, thy love, thy barbarous villany. 
 
 Eleaz. Zarack. 
 
 Enter Zarack. ' '^ 
 
 Znr. My lord. ^. -. MVa 
 
 Eleaz. Where's Baltazar? * ' tt ii 
 
 Zar. A drummmg. '* , 
 
 Eleaz. I have made them rave, and curse, ancj. 
 so guard her. ^ , ^ ^^ 
 
 Your court shall be this prison ; gUEtrd her, slaves. 
 With open eyes : defy me ! see my veins 
 
 VOL. I.^'^ '- Q ^..
 
 180 lust's dominion: 
 
 Struck'd out, being over-heated with my blood, 
 Boiling in wrath; I'll tame you. 
 
 Isa. Do, do. 
 
 Eleaz. Hah, 
 I will ! and once more fill a kingdom's throne. 
 vSpain, I'll new mould thee : I will have a chair 
 Made all of dead men's bones ; and the ascents 
 Shall be the heads of Spaniards set in ranks: * 
 I will have Philip's head, Hortenzo's head, 
 Mendoza's head, thy mother's head, and this ; 
 This head, that is so cross, I'll have't. 
 The scene wants actors; I'll fetch more, and 
 
 clothe it 
 In rich Cothurnall pomp : a tragedy 
 Ought to be grave, graves this shall beautify. 
 Moor, execute to th' life my dread commands ; 
 Vengeance awake, thou hast much work in hand. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Zar. I'm weary of this office and this life ; 
 It is too thirsty, and I would your blood 
 Might 'scape the filling out. By heaven I swear,i 
 I scorn these blows and his rebukes to bear. ^^ ^^ 
 
 Isa. Oh ! Zarack, pity me ; I love thee well ; 
 Love deserves pity ; pity Isabel. 
 
 Zar. What would you have me do? 
 
 Isa. To kill this Moor. 
 
 Zar. I'll cast an eye of death upon my face, 
 I'll be no more his slave : swear to advance hie, 
 And by yon setting sun this hand, and this, * 
 Shall rid you of a tyrant. '"^*^ * "^ 
 
 Isa. By my birth, * ^^'^ 
 
 No Spaniard's honour'd place shall e'qd^! Hhijie. 
 
 Zar. I'll kill him then. j ,*
 
 A TRAGEDY. 197 
 
 V 
 
 Isa. And Baltazar. 
 
 Zar. And he. 
 
 Isa. I pray thee first fetch Philip and Hortenzo ' 
 Out of that hell ; they two will be most gla4 , 
 To aid thee in this execution. 
 
 Zar. My Lord Philippo and Hortenzo rise J 
 Your hands ; so, talk to her : at my return, 
 This sword shall reek with blood of Baltazar. 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 Phil. Three curses (like three commendations 
 To their souls) I send : thy tortur'd brother 
 Does curse the cardinal, the Moor, thy mother. 
 , Isa. Curse not at all ! dear souls, revenge is hot, 
 And boils in Zarack's brains ; the plot is cast 
 Into the mould of hell : you freemen are : 
 Zarack will kill the Moor and Baltazar. 
 
 Horten. How can that relish ? ^ 
 
 Isa. Why, I'll tell you how: 
 1 did profess, aye, and protested too, 
 I lov'd him well ; what will not sorrow do ! 
 Then he profess'd, aye, and protested too, 
 To kill them both ; what will not devils do ! 
 
 jpUil. Then I profess, aye, and protest it too, 
 ^ That here's for him ; what will not Philip do ! 
 
 Horten. See, where he comes. 
 
 > J 7 ' ijr 
 V 
 
 Enter the two Moors. 
 
 Halt. Zarack, what do I see ? 
 Hortenzo and Philippo ! who did this ? 
 
 Zar. I, Baltazar. 
 
 Ealt. Thou art half damn'd for it * ; 
 I'll to ray lord. 
 
 * In the original, the remainder of this play is jumbled together 
 in strange confusion. 
 
 o2
 
 188 lust's dominion : 
 
 Zar. I'll stop you on your way ; 
 Lie there, thy tongue shall tell no tales to-day. 
 
 [Slabs him. 
 
 Phil. Nor thine to-morrow, this revenge was 
 well ; [Stabs him. 
 
 By this time both the slaves shake hands in hell. 
 
 Isa. Philippo and Hortenzo, stand you still ? 
 What doat you both? Cannot you see your play? 
 Well fare a woman then to lead the way. 
 Once rob the dead ; put the Moors habits on, 
 And paint your faces with the oil of hell : 
 So, waiting on the tyrant 
 
 Phil. Come, no more, 
 'Tis here and here : room there below ; stand wide| 
 Bury them well since they so godly died. 
 
 Horten. Away then ; fate now let revenge be 
 plac'd. 
 
 Phil. Here. 
 
 Horten. And here ; a tyrant's blood doth sweetly 
 taste. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene VI. 
 
 Enter Eleazar, Alvero, Roderigo, Christo- 
 FERO, and other Lords. 
 
 Eleaz. What, I imprison ! Who ? v) )\'A 
 
 All. Philip and Hortenzo. ^loMini^i b.xl 
 
 Eleaz. Philip and Hortenzo ! ha, ha, ha. 
 Rod. Why laughs the Moor ? ^^i w^^vi 
 
 Eleaz. I laugh because you jest : ^ ' ' " 
 
 Laugh at a jest. Who, I imprison them ? 
 
 I prize their lives with weights, their necks with 
 chains, ^wji^V
 
 A TRAGEDY. IBD 
 
 Their hands with manacles ! do I all this? 
 Because my face is in night's colour dyed, 
 Think you my conscience and my soul is so ? 
 Black faces may have hearts as white as snow ; 
 And 'tis a general rule in moral rules, 
 The whitest faces have the blackest souls. 
 
 Alv. But touching my Hortenzo 
 
 . -^ Eleaz. Good old man, '<? jM.y t*i.4 m> 
 
 i never touch'd him ; do not touch me thtetir " ^<'' 
 With thy Hortenzo. , . r , >of> 
 
 Christo. Where's Philip too? uiff\rtttM^ lii^ 
 
 Eleaz. And where's Philippo too? 
 I pray, I pray, is Philip a tame Spaniard? 
 What, can I philip him hither, hither make him 
 
 fly? 
 First, where's Hortenzo? Where's Philippo too? 
 
 Rod. And where is Isabel ? She wius with you. 
 
 Eleaz. And where is Isabel ? She was with me. 
 
 Enter Philip and Hortenzo like Moors. 
 
 And so are you ; yet are you well, you see : 
 But in good time, see where their keepers come. 
 Come hither, Zarack ; Baltazar, come hither : 
 Zarack, old Lord Alvero asks of thee 
 Where young Hortenzo is. 
 Horten. My lord, set free. 
 Eleaz. Oh! is he so? Come hither, Baltazar: 
 Lord Christofero here would ask of thee, 
 Where Prince Philippo is. i 
 
 Phil. My lord, set free. ju*;, n\ U i>o^V 
 
 Eleaz. Oh! is he so? Roderigo askdth me for 
 
 Isabel. _uajj 
 
 Phil. I say, my lord, she's itee, n\ u'^iil asnq 1 
 Eleaz. Oh ! is she so f ,?.iit6ii
 
 19^ LUST S DOMINION .* 
 
 PhiL Believ^ iiic, lords. 
 
 Horteti. And Die. 
 
 PhiL I set Pliilippo 
 
 Horten. I, Hortenzo free. 
 
 Eleaz. My lords, because you shall believe 
 me too, 
 Go to the castle, I will follow you. 
 
 Alv. Thanks to the mighty Moor ; and for his 
 fame. 
 Be more in honour than thou art in name : 
 But let me wish the other prisoners well. 
 The queen and cardinal : let all have right, 
 Let law absolve them, or dissolve them quite. 
 
 Eleaz. Grave man, thy grey hairs paint out 
 gravity; 
 Thy counsel's wisdom, thy wit policy. | 
 
 There let ip meet, and with a general braiu 
 Erect the peace of spirit, and of Spain. 
 
 Alv. Then will Spain flourish. 
 
 Eleaz. Aye, when it is mine. 
 
 Rod. Oh, heavenly meeting! t 
 
 Eleaz. (Aside.) We must part in hell. i 
 
 Christo. True peace of joy. [ExevaiL^ 
 
 Manent Eleazar, Philip, and Hortenzo. 
 
 Eleaz. 'Tis a dissembling knell ; 
 Farewell^ my lords; meet there; so, ha, ha, ha. 
 
 i^ mj. -} '^jtiK.4i 1 [^Draws his rapier. \ 
 
 Now tragedy, thou minion of the night, 4 
 
 Rhamnusia's pew-fellow, to thee I'll sing 
 Upon a harp made of dead Spanish bones, A 
 The proudest instrument the world affords ; 
 When thou in crimson jollity shalt bathe 
 Thy limbs, as black as mine, in springs of blood
 
 A TRAGEDY. 191 
 
 Still gushing from the conduit-head of Spain. 
 To thee, that never blushest, though thy cheeks 
 Are full of blood, O Saint Revenge, to thee'\*l 
 I consecrate my murders, all my stabs, ^ \ 
 
 My bloody labours, tortures, stratagems. 
 The volume of all wounds that wound from me ; 
 Mine is the stage, thine is the tragedy. 
 Where am I now ? Oh ! at the prison ; true. 
 Zarack and Baltazar, come hither ; see, 
 Survey my library. I study, ah. 
 Whilst you two sleep ; marry, 'tis villany. 
 Here's a good book, Zarack, behold it Avell, 
 It's deeply written, for 'twas made in hell : 
 Now, Baltazar, a better book for thee ; 
 But, for myself, this, this, the best of all ; 
 And therefore do I claim it every day, a /d'i 
 For fear the readers steal the art away. : r .^iriT 
 Where thou stand'st now there must Hortenzd 
 
 hang, 
 Like Tantalus in a maw-eating pang, -v iv^Ar. 
 There, Baltazar, must Prince Philip stand^r *A 
 Like damn'd Prometheus; and to act his par^ 
 Shall have a dagger sticking at his heart. 
 
 But in my room I'll set the cardinal. 
 And he shall preach repentance to them all. 
 Ha, ha, ha. * .^\ 
 
 Phil. Damnation tickles him ; he laughs agamJ 
 Philip must stand there and bleed to death. 
 Well, villain, I only laugh to see . /n/T 
 
 That we shall live to outlaugh him and thee, n >l 
 
 Eleaz. Oh ! fit, fit, fit! stay, a rare jest! rare 
 jest! 
 Zarack, suppose thou art Hortenzo now ;
 
 W^ LUST S DOMINION : 
 
 I pray thee stand in passion of a pang, 
 
 To see, by thee, how quaintly he would hang. 
 
 Horten. (Aside.) I am Hortenzo ; tut, tuU 
 fear not man, I 
 
 Thou lookest like Zarack. 
 
 Eleaz. Aye, Hortenzo, 
 He shall hang here i'faith ; come, Zarack, come. 
 And, Baltazar, take thou Philippo's room : f 
 
 First let me see you plac'd. \ 
 
 Phil. We're plac'd. 
 
 Eleaz. Slaves; ha, ha, ha. 
 You are but players, they must end the play ; 
 How like Hortenzo and Philippo ! ha ! 
 Stand my two slaves, were they as black as you. 
 Well, Zarack, I'll unfix thee first of all, 
 Thou shalt help me to play the cardinal : 
 This iron engine on his head I'll clap, T 
 
 Like a pope's mitre or a cardinal's cap ; 
 Then manacle his hands, as thou dost mine ; 
 So, so, I pray thee, Zarack, set him free, ! 
 
 That both of you may stand and laugh at me. *' 
 
 Phil. 'Tis fine, i'faith ; call in more company j|; 
 Alvero, Roderigo, and the rest: ' 
 
 Who will not laugh at Eleazar's jest ? 
 
 Eleaz. What ? Zarack, Baltazar ! 
 
 Phil. Ah! anon, anon; 
 We have not laugh'd enough, it's but begun. 
 
 [^Knocking. 
 Who knocks? 
 
 Eleaz. Unmanacle my hands I say. 
 
 Phil. Then shall we mar our mirth, and spoil 
 the play. [Knocking again. 
 
 Who knocks ? *
 
 A TRAGEDY. ' 10$ 
 
 Alv. (Within.) Alvero. 
 Phil. Let Alvero in. 
 Eleaz. And let me out. 
 
 Enter all below. 
 
 Phil. I thank you for that flout * ; 
 To let Alvero in, and let you out. , , 
 
 Eleaz. Villains! slaves! am not I your lord, 
 the Moor, 
 And Eleazar? 
 
 Qu. Mo. And the devil of hell ; 
 And more than that, and Eleazar too. 
 
 Eleaz. And devil's dam, what do I here with 
 you ? 
 
 Qu. Mo. My tongue shall torture thee. 
 
 Eleaz. I know thee then ; 
 All women's tongues are tortures unto men. 
 
 Qu. Mo. Spaniards, this was the villain; this 
 is he. 
 Who through inticements of alluring lust, 
 And glory, which makes silly women proud 
 And men malicious, did incense my spirit 
 Beyond the limits of a woman's mind 
 To wrong myself, and that lord cardinal ; 
 And that which sticks more near unto my blood, 
 He that was nearest to my blood, my son. 
 To dispossess him of his right by wrong : 
 Oh? that I might embrace him on this breast. 
 Which did enclose him when he first was bom : 
 ]No greater happiness can heaven show'r upon me^ 
 Than to circle in these arms of mine 
 That son, whose royal blood I did defame, 
 To crown with honour an ambitious Moor. 
 
 * " For that flout/" for that piece of mockery. 
 VOL. I. P
 
 104' LUST S DOMINION : 
 
 Phil. Thus then thy happiness is complete ; 
 
 [JEmbraces her. 
 Behold thy Philip ransom'd from that prison. 
 In which the Moor had cloistered him. 
 
 Horten. And here's Hortenzo. 
 
 JEleaz. Then am I betrayed and cozen'd. 
 In my own designs, I did contrive 
 Their ruin ; but their subtle policy " t 
 
 Hath blasted my ambitious thoughts. Villains C 
 Where's Zarack? Where's Baltazar? '* 
 
 What have you done with them? I 
 
 Phil. They're gone to Pluto's kingdom, to 
 provide 
 A place for thee, and to attend thee there ; 
 But, lest they should be tir'd with too long 
 Expecting hopes ; come, brave spirits of Spain, 
 This is the Moor, the actor of these evils; 
 Thus thrust him down to act among the devils. 
 
 [Stabs him. 
 
 Eleaz. And am I thus dispatch'd ! if I 
 
 Had I but breath'd the space of one hour longer, 
 I would have fully acted my revenge : 
 But oh ! now pallid death bids me prepare, 
 And haste to Charon for to be his fare. 
 I come, I come : but ere my glass is run, 
 rU curse you all ; and cursing end my life. 
 May'st thou, lascivious queen, whose damn'd 
 
 charms 
 Bewitch'd me to the circle of thy arms, 
 Unpity'd die, consum'd with loathed lust. 
 Which thy venereous mind hath basely nurs'd : 
 And for you, Philip, may your days be long. 
 But clouded with perpetual misery : 
 May thou, Hortenzo, and thy Isabel,
 
 A TRAGEDY. 1D5 
 
 Be fetch'd alive by furies into hell, 
 There to be damn'd for ever. Oh ! I faint ; 
 Devils, come claim your right, and when I am 
 Confin'd within your kingdom, then shall I 
 Out-act you all in perfect villany. [Dies. 
 
 Phil. Take down his body while his blood 
 streams forth ; 
 His aots are past, and our last act is done. 
 Now do I challenge my hereditary right 
 To the royal Spanish throne, usurp'd by him, 
 In which, in all your sights, I thus do plant myself. 
 Lord Cardinal, and you the queen my mother, 
 I pardon all those crimes you have committed. 
 
 Qu. Mo. I'll now repose myself in peaceful rest. 
 And fly unto some solitary residence, 
 Where I'll spin out the remnant of my life 
 In true contrition for my past offences. 
 
 Phil. And now, Hortenzo, to close up your 
 wound, 
 I here contract my sister unto thee, 
 With comic joy to end a tragedy. [ y 
 
 And for the barbarous Moor, and his black train. 
 Let all the Moors be banished from Spain. 
 
 FINI*.
 
 PLEASANT CONCEITED 
 COMEDY; 
 
 CALLED 
 
 MOTHER BOMBIE. 
 
 JOHN LYLY. 
 
 1 
 
 vol.* I. u
 
 H * i. jlv 
 
 1^ 
 
 #
 
 JOHN LYLY, OR LILLY. 
 
 This author was born in the Weald of Kent ; and in 
 1569 became a student of Magdalen College, Oxford. 
 " He was afterwards, I conceive," says Wood, ' one of 
 the demies, or clerks of that house." He took the degree 
 of B. A. 1373, and M. A. 1575 ; " at which time he was 
 esteemed in the university a noted wit ;" from reasons, how- 
 ever, now unknown, he afterwards removed to Cambridge : 
 from thence he attended court ; was noticed by Elizabeth, 
 and for many years flattered himself with the hope of be- 
 ing appointed Master of the Revels. By Wood's compu- 
 tation, which has been universally followed, he was born 
 in 1553 ; " but," says Mr. Oldys, " I think he was born 
 sooner ;" indeed this must have been the case, or he was 
 only thirteen when he first hoped for the appointment 
 above mentioned ; as, " in 1576, he wrote his first letter, 
 or petition, to the queen ; in 1579 his second letter, shew- 
 ing he had been thirteen years in expectation of being ap- 
 pointed Master of the Revels *." Of the time of his de- 
 cease we are likewise ignorant ; Wood says he was alive 
 in 1597. He was author of a work, called " Euphues. 
 The Anatomy of Wit verie pleasant for all Gentlemen 
 to read, and most necessary to remember : wherein 
 are contained the Delyghts that Wit follow eth in his 
 Youth, by the Pleasantness of Love, and the Happi- 
 nesse he reapeth in Age, by the Perfectnesse of Wisdome." 
 The object of this publication was to purify the English 
 language, and it met with veiy unusual success. En- 
 couraged by the reputation of this work, he, the fol- 
 lowing year, published " Euphues, or his England, con- 
 taining his Voyage and Adventures, mixt with sundrie 
 prettie Discourses of honest Love, the Description of the 
 Countrie, the Court, and the Manners of tliat Isle. De- 
 lightful to be read, and nothing hurtful to be regarded : 
 wherein there is small Offence by Lightnesse given to the 
 ^ * MS. notes on Langbaiue. 
 
 q2
 
 200 LYLY, OR LILY. 
 
 Wise, and lesse Occasion of Loosenesse proffered to- 
 the Wanton." Notwithstanding the affectation and pe- 
 dantry with which these works abound, " all our ladies," 
 says Mr. Edward Blount*, " were his scholars ; and that 
 beauty in court, which could not parley Euphueisme, was 
 as little regarded as she which now there speaks not 
 French :" in his title-page this gentleman styles him 
 the witty, comiqal, facetiously-quick, and unparalleled 
 John Lilly ; and though many allowances ought to be made 
 for the partiality of an editor, and the prevailing taste of 
 that age, (which unquestionably contributed greatly to 
 the popiilarity of our author's works), yet still, as pro- 
 ductions which the court of Elizabeth held in admiration, 
 and which Shakspeare condescended to imitate, they can- 
 not be deemed unworthy the attention of the reader. It 
 seems too probable that the popularity of his works was 
 nearly all that he got by them ; for notwithstanding his many 
 years attendance on the court, he waseventually " forced to 
 write to the queen herself, for some little grant to support 
 him in his old age+ :" we may hope this application was 
 not without success ; as Mr. Blount, in his preface, says 
 he was an " excellent poet, whom Queen Elizabeth then 
 heard, graced, and rewarded.''^ 
 
 He was also the author of a celebrated pamphlet, against 
 the Martinist, written about 1589, called, " Pap with a 
 Hatchet ; alias, a Fig for my Godson : or, crack me this 
 Nut ; that is, a sound Box on the Ear for the Idiot Mar- 
 tin, to hold his Peace ; written by one that dares call a 
 Dog a Dog." 
 
 It is almost impossible for a man to attain to a very 
 high reputation, without, in some degree, meriting it; 
 this is the case with Lyly ; and the observation of 
 Rousseau on the works of Gibbon, " that they were de- 
 formed by affectation and a perpetual pursuit of brilli- 
 ancy," may be applied with some justice to our author*s. 
 Though undeserving the enthusiastic encomiums of Mr. 
 Blount, he must, unquestionably, be considered a man of 
 very considerable ability, and his writings might pos- 
 
 * Mr. Blount, afterwards a knight, says Wood. 0' 
 t MS. notes on Langbaine.
 
 LYLY, OR LILY. 201 
 
 sibly have improved the language of his time. It ought 
 to be added that Drayton is of a different opinion, and 
 compliments Sydney, as the author that 
 
 " Did first reduce 
 Our tongue from Lyly's writing, then in use ; 
 Talking of stones, stars, plants, of fishes, flies, 
 Playing with words and idle similies. 
 As th' English apes and very zanies be 
 Of every thing that they do hear and see; 
 So imitating his ridiculous tricks. 
 They speak and write all like mere lunatics." 
 
 This criticism, though highly coloured, has its founda- 
 tion in truth ; as may be discovered from his dramatic 
 writings, particularly his " Maid's Metamorphosis ;" - 
 Winstanley , however, says his plays were acted " with great 
 applause of the vulgar, as such things which they under- 
 stood.^'' This is strangely at variance with the criticism 
 of Drayton ; and from it the reader might infer, that his 
 scenes were taken from common life, and presented in fa- 
 miliar dialogue ; but his plots are from Pliny, Lucian, 
 Ovid, Apuleius, &c. &c. and his language refined with art 
 till it is any thing but colloquial. " Mother Bombie" 
 has less of this than any other of his plays. 
 
 The following is a list of his dramatic works : 
 
 1. Alexander and Campaspe, Tragi-com. 4 to. 1584, 
 1591, D.C. 
 
 2. Sapho and Phao, Com. 4to. 1584; 4to. 1591. 
 
 This play has been, through some error, attributed 
 to Richard Edwards. 
 
 3. Endimion, Com. 4to. 1591. 
 
 4. Gallathea, Com. 4to. 1592. 
 
 5. Midas, Com. 4to. 1592. 
 
 6. Woman in the Moon, Com. 4to. 1597. 
 
 7. Maid her Metamorphosis, 4to. 1600. 
 
 8. Love his Metamorphosis, Past. 4to. 1601. 
 
 9. Mother Bombie, Com. 4to. 1594, 1598. 
 
 The first five, and " Mother Bombie," were published in 
 one volume in 12mo. 1632, by Mr. Blount, under the title 
 of " Six Court Comedies." Wood and Winstantley have 
 erroneously attributed to this author, " A Warning for 
 fair Women."
 
 DRAMATIS PERSON JE. 
 
 Memphio. 
 Stellio. 
 Prisius. 
 Sperantus. 
 
 Candius, son to Sperantus. 
 Maestius, the son of Memphio. 
 Accius, the supposed son of Memphio. 
 Dromio, servant to Memphio. 
 Risio, servant to Stellio. 
 Halfpenny, servant to Sperantus. 
 Lucio, servant to Prisius. 
 Livia, daughter to Prisius. 
 Serena, daughter to Stellio. 
 . Silena, the supposed daughter to Stellio. 
 Vicina, mother Xq Accius and Silena. 
 Mother Bombie. 
 Rixula. 
 
 Synis, Nasutus, Bedunenus, Hackneymanf Serjeant and 
 Scriviner.
 
 MOTHER BOMBIE, 
 
 ACT I. Scene I. 
 Memphio and Dromio. 
 
 Mem. Boy, there are three things that make my 
 life miserable ; a thread-bare purse, a curst wife, 
 and a fool to my heir. 
 
 Drom. Why, then, sir, there are three medicines 
 for these three maladies : a pike-staff to take a 
 purse on the high-way, a holly wand to brush 
 choler from my mistress' tongue, and a young 
 wench for my young master; so that as your 
 worship, being wise, begot a fool ; so he, being a 
 fool, may tread out a wise man. 
 
 Mem. Ah ! but, Dromio, these medicines bite 
 hot on great mischiefs ; for so might I have a 
 rope about my neck, horns upon my head, and 
 in my house a litter of fools. 
 
 Drom. Then, sir, you had best let some wise 
 man sit on your son, to hatch him a good wit ; 
 they say, if ravens sit on hens' eggs, the chickens 
 will be black, and so forth. 
 
 Mem. Why, boy, my sop is out of the shell, 
 and is grown a pretty cock.
 
 204 MOTHER BOMBIE : 
 
 JDrom. Carve him, master, and make liim a 
 capon, else all your breed will prove cocks- 
 combs. 
 
 Mem. I marvel he is such an ass, he takes it 
 not of his father. 
 
 JDrom. He may for any thing you know. 
 
 Mem. Why, villain, dost thou think me a fool? 
 
 Drom. Oh no, sir ; neither are you sure that 
 you are his father. 
 
 Mem. Rascal, dost thou imagine thy mistress 
 naught * of her body ? ^ * -^^ 
 
 Drom. No ; but fantastical of her mind ; and 
 it may be, when this boy was begotten, she 
 thought of a fool, and so conceived a fool, your- 
 self being very wise, and she surpassing honest. 
 
 Mem. It may be, for I have heard of an Ethi- 
 opian, that, thinking of a fair picture, brought 
 forth a fair lady, and yet no bastard. 
 
 Drom. You are well read, sir; your son may 
 be a bastard, and yet legitimate ; yourself a cuck- 
 old, and yet my mistress virtuous; all this in 
 conceit. 
 
 Mem. Come, Dromio, it is my grief to*have 
 such a son, that must inherit my lands. 
 
 Drom. He needs not, sir ; I'll beg him for a 
 fool. 
 
 * The following quotation from King Richard IIL will suffi-^ 
 ciently explain the meanin^^of this passage. , 
 
 Brak. With this, my lord, myself have naught to dfl. 
 
 Glo. Naught to do with Mistress Shore ? I tell thee, fellow. 
 He that doth naught with her, excepting one. 
 Were best to do it secretly, alone. 
 
 Brak. What one, my lord 1 
 
 Glo. Her husband, knave : would'st thou betray me ?
 
 :?U COMEDY. 205 
 
 Mem. Vile boy^ thy young master ? 
 
 Drom, Let me have in a device *. 
 
 Mem. I'll have thy advice; and if it fadgef, 
 thou shalt eat, thou shalt sweat, play till thou 
 sleep, and sleep till thy bones ake. 
 
 Drom. Ah marry, now you tickle me ; I am 
 both hungry, gamesome, and sleepy, and all at 
 once ; I'll break this head against the wall, but 
 I'll make it bleed good matter. 
 
 Mem. Then, this it is: thou knowest I have 
 but one son, and he is a fool. 
 
 Drom. A monstrous fool. 
 
 Mem. A wife, and she an arrant scold. 
 
 Drom. Ah, master, I smell your device; it will 
 be excellent. 
 
 Mem. Thou canst not know it till I tell it. 
 
 Drom. I see it through your brains ; your hair 
 is so thin, and your scull so transparent, I maj 
 sooner see it than hear it. 
 
 Mem. Then, boy, hast thou a quick wit, and I 
 a slow tongue: but what is't? . u > i 
 
 Drom. Marry, either you would have your wife's 
 tongue in your son's head, that he might be a 
 prating fool ; or his brains in her brain-pan, that 
 she might be a foolish scold. 
 
 3Iem. Thou dream'st, Dromio ; there is no such 
 
 matter. Thou knowest I have kept them close, 
 
 so that my neighbours think him to be wise, and 
 
 her to be temperate, because they never heard 
 
 them speak. 
 
 Drom. Well. 
 
 Mem. Thou knowest that Stellio hat,h^a^ good 
 
 * Permit me to suggest a contrivance to you. '"'' '"* '*^ 
 t Fadge, " to suit, to fit, to go with." STRVENs.
 
 206 MOTHER bombie: 
 
 farm and a fair daughter; yea, so fair that she is 
 mewed up, and only looketh out at the windows, 
 lest she should, by some roisting courtier, be 
 stolen away. 
 
 Drom. So, sir. 
 
 Mem. Now if I could compass a match be- 
 tween my son and Stellio's daughter, by confer- 
 ence of us parents, and without theirs, I should 
 be blessed, he coz'ned *, and thou for ever set at 
 liberty. 
 
 Drom. A singular conceit. 
 
 Mem. Thus much for my son : now for my 
 wife. I would have this kept from her, else shall 
 I not be able to keep my house from smoke ; for 
 let it come to one of her ears, and then woe to 
 both mine : I would have her go to my house 
 into the country, whilst we conclude this ; and 
 this once done, I care not if her tongue never 
 have done : these if thou canst elSect, thou shalt 
 make thy master happy. 
 
 Drom. Think it done ; this noddle shall coin 
 such new device as you shall have your son mar- 
 ried by to-morrow. 
 
 Mem. But take heed that neither the father 
 nor the maid speak to my son, for then his folly 
 will mar all. 
 
 Drom. Lay all the care on me. Sublevabo te 
 onerCy I will rid you of a fool. 
 
 Mem. Wilt thou rid me for a fool ? 
 
 Drom. Tush, quarrel not. 
 
 Mem. Then for the dowry, let it be at least 
 
 * " Coz'ned," cheated, tricked. I give the explanation here 
 more for the word " coz'nage," which occurs in the next page, 
 and is more obscure ; it has, however, the same meaning.
 
 A COMEDY. 207 
 
 two hundred ducats, and after his death the 
 farm. 
 
 Drom. What else ? 
 
 Mem. Then let us in, that I may furnish thee 
 with some better counsel, and my son with better 
 apparel. 
 
 JDrom. Let me alone, I lack but a wag more to 
 make of my council, and then you shall see an 
 exquisite coz'nage, and the father more fool than 
 the son. But hear you, sir, I forgot one thing. 
 
 Mem. What's that? 
 
 Drom. Nay, expellasfurca licet usque recurret. 
 
 Mem. What's the meaning? 
 
 Drom. Why, though your son's folly be thrust 
 up with a pair of horns on a fork, yet being na- 
 tural, it will have his course. 
 
 Mem. I pray thee no more, but about it. 
 
 \^Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. 
 Stellio and Risio. " 
 
 Stel. Risio, my daughter is passing amiable, 
 but very simple. 
 
 Ris. You mean a fool, sir. 
 
 Stel. Faith, I imply so much. 
 
 Ris. Then I apply it fit ; the one she takes of 
 her father, the other of her mother; now you 
 may be sure she is your own. 
 
 Stel. I have penned her up in a chamber, hav- 
 ing only a window to look out, that youths see- 
 ing her fair cheeks, may be enamoured before 
 they hear her fond'* speech. How likest thou this 
 head ? 
 
 " Fond," foolish.
 
 208 MOTHER bombie: 
 
 Ris. There is very good workmanship in it, but 
 the matter is but base : if the stuff had been good 
 as the mould, your daughter had been as wise as 
 she is beautiful. 
 
 Stel. Dost thou think she took her foolishness 
 ofme? 
 
 Ris. Aye, and so cunningly, she took it not 
 from you. m< v i 
 
 Stel. WeUw j^'^^uod natura dedit tollere nemo 
 
 potest. ' i v^':^"l 
 
 Ris. A good evidence to prove the fee- simple 
 of your daughter's folly. 
 
 Stel Why? 
 
 Ris. It came by nature, and if none can take 
 it away it is perpetual. k 
 
 Stel. Nay, Risio, she is no natural fool; but 
 in this consisteth her simplicity, that she thinketh 
 herself subtle ; in this her rudeness, that she 
 imagines she is courtly ; in this the overshooting 
 of herself, that she overweeneth of herself. 
 * Ris. Well, what follows ? 
 
 Stel. Risio, this is my plot : Memphio hath a 
 pretty stripling to his son, whom with cockering 
 be hath made wanton ; his girdle must be warmed, 
 the air must not breathe on him, he must lie 
 a-bed till noon, and yet in his bed break his fast; 
 that which I do to conceal the folly of my 
 daughter, that doth he in too much cockering of 
 his son. Now, Risio, how shall I compass a 
 match between my girl and his boy ? 
 
 Ris. Why, with a pair of compasses, and bring 
 them both into the circle; I'll warrant they'll 
 match themselves. 
 
 Stel. Tush ! plot it for me, that never speaking
 
 A COMEDY. 20ft 
 
 one to another, ihey may be in love one with an- 
 other: I like not solemn wooing, it is for courtiers ; 
 let country folks believe other's reports as much 
 as their own opinions. 
 
 Itis. Oh, then, so it be made a match you care 
 not. 
 
 Stel. Not I, nor for a match neither, were it 
 nolPthat I thirst after my neighbour's farm. 
 
 Ris. A very good nature. Well, if by flat wit 
 I bring this to pass, what's my reward ? 
 
 Stil. Whatsoever thou wilt ask. 
 
 Ris. I'll ask no more than by my wit I can 
 get in the bargain. 
 
 Stil, Then about it. [Exit. 
 
 Ris, If I come not about you*, never trust me. 
 I'll seek out Droniio, the counsellor of my con- 
 ceit. 
 
 Scene III. 
 Prisius and Sperantus. ^ 
 
 Pris. It is unneighbourly done, to suffer your 
 son, since he came from school, to spend his 
 time in love ; and unwisely done, to let him hover 
 over my daughter, who hath nothing to her do wry 
 but her needle, and must prove a sempstress ; nor 
 he any thing to take to but a grammar, and 
 cannot at the best be but a schoolmaster. 
 
 Sper. Prisius, you bite and whine, wring me 
 on the withers, and yet wince yourself f; it is you 
 
 * " If I come not about you ;" that is, if I do not overreach 
 you. * 
 
 t " Let the gall'd jade wince, our withers are unwrung." 
 
 HAMLET.
 
 210 MOTHER BOMBIE : 
 
 that go about to match ypur girl with my boy, 
 she being more fit for seams than for marriage, 
 and he for a rod than a wife. 
 
 Pris. Her birth requires a better bridegroom 
 than such a groom. 
 
 Sper. And his bringing up another gates mar- 
 riage than such a minion *. 
 
 Pris. Marry-gup, I am sure he hath no belter 
 bread than is made of wheat, nor worn finer 
 cloth than is made of wool, nor learned better 
 manners than is taught in schools. 
 
 Sper. Nor your minx had no better grand- 
 father than a tailor, who, as I have heard, was 
 poor and proud, nor a better father than your- 
 self; unless your wife borrowed a better to make 
 your daughter a gentlewoman. 
 
 Pris. Twit not me with my ancestors, nor my 
 wife's honesty, for if thou dost 
 
 Sper. Hold thy hands still, thou hadst best; 
 and yet it is impossible, now I remember, for 
 thou hast the palsy. 
 
 Pris. My hands shake so, that wert thou in 
 place where, I would teach thee to cogf. 
 
 Sper. Nay, if thou shake thy hands I warrant 
 thou canst not teach any to cog J. But, neigh- 
 bour, let not two old fools fall out for two young 
 wantons. 
 
 * " Another gates marriage," means a marriage of a very dif- 
 ferent description. It is a mode of speech still used in the 
 North of England. 
 
 t I believe the sense is, if I had thee in a proper place I 
 would teach thee to lie, and slander me, as thou hast done. 
 
 X " Cog" is here used in a different sense, and means to cheat 
 at cards or dice. The shaking of Prisius' hands would naturally 
 prevent his being able to slip cards or dice without discovery.
 
 A COMEDY. 211 
 
 Pris. Indeed it becometh men of our experi- 
 ence to reason, not rail; to debate the matter, 
 not to combat it. 
 
 Sper. Well then, this I'll tell thee friendly : I 
 have almost these two years cast in my head, 
 how I might match my princocks * with Stellio's 
 daughter, whom I ha\e heard to be very fair, and 
 know shall be very rich; she is his heir, hedoats, 
 he is stooping old, and shortly must die; yet, by 
 no means, either by blessing or cursing, can I 
 win my son to be a wooer ; which I know pro- 
 ceeds not of bashfulness, but stubborness; for he 
 knows his good, though I say it, he hath wit at 
 will : as for his personage, I care not who sees 
 him ; I can tell you he is able to make a lady's 
 mouth water, if she wink not. 
 
 Pris. Stay, Sperantus ; this is like my case ; 
 for I have been tampering as long to have a mar- 
 riage committed between my wench and Mem- 
 phio's only son : they say he is as goodly a youth j 
 as one shall see in a summer's day, and as neat a 
 stripling as ever went on neat's leather ; his fa- 
 ther will not let him be forth of his sight, he is so 
 tender over him; he yet lies with his mother for 
 catching cold : now my pretty elf, as proud as 
 the day is long, she will none of him ; she, for- 
 sooth, will choose her own husband : made mar- 
 riages prove mad marriages; she will choose 
 with her eye, and like with her heart, before she 
 
 * ** Princocks," a coxcomb, a conceited fellow. 
 
 STEVENS. 
 
 " It is rather a cockered or spoiled child, than a coxcomb." 
 
 MALONE.
 
 212: MOTHER bombie: 
 
 consent with her tongue ; neither father nor mo- 
 ther, kith nor kin, shall be her carver in a hus4 
 band ; she will fall to where she likes best; and 
 thus the chick, scarce out of the shell, cackles as 
 though she had been trodden with an hundred 
 cocks, and mother of a thousand eggs. d 
 
 Sper. Well, then, this is our best, seeing we 
 know each others mind, to devise, to govern our 
 own children; for my boy I'll keep to his books,? 
 and study shall make him leave to love; I'll 
 break him of his will, or his bones with a cud^ 
 gel. a 
 
 Pris. And I'll no more dandle my daughter ;* 
 she shall prick on a clout till her fingers ake, or 
 I'll cause her leave to make my heart ake. But 
 in good time, though with ill luck, behold if they 
 be not both together ; let us stand close and hear 
 all, so shall we prevent all. \They stand aside, t 
 
 4^j0uvi Enter Ck^Dins and Ijiy I A. i 
 
 / Sper. This happens pat ; take heed you cougln ^ 
 not, Prisius. lOilt 
 
 Pris. Tush, spit not you, and I'll warrant I ; 
 pay beard is as good as a handkerchief. ^ 
 
 Liv. Sweet Candius, if thy father should sefe 
 us alone, would he not fret? The old man me*5 
 thinks should be full of fumes, bijiii &m'ti\ ?3g5ii 
 
 Cand. Tiish, let him fret one h'eartstring against 
 another, he shall never trouble the least vein of 
 my little finger; the old churl thinks none wise 
 unless he have a beard hang dangling to his waist ; 
 when ray face is bedaubed with hair as his, then
 
 A COMEDY. 213 
 
 perchance my conceit may stumble on his staid- 
 ness *. 
 
 Pris. Ah ! in what book read you that lesson ? 
 
 Sper. I know not in what book he read it, but 
 I am sure he was a knave to learn it. 
 
 Cand. 1 believe, fair Livia, if your sour sire 
 should see you with your sweetheart, he would 
 not be very patient. 
 
 Liv. The care is taken ; I'll ask his blessinj^ as 
 a father, but never take counsel for a husband; 
 there js as much odds between my golden thoughts 
 and his leaden advice, as between his silver hairs 
 and my amber locks; I know he will cough for 
 anger that I yield not, but he shall cough me a 
 fool for his labour f . 
 
 Sper. Where pricked your daughter that work ? 
 out of broad stitch ? 
 
 Pris. Out of a flirt's sampler; but let us stay 
 the end, this is but the beginning, you shall hear 
 two children well brought up. 
 
 Cand. Parents in these days are grown peevish J; 
 
 Or in other words " niy desires may chance to be as 
 methodical and selfish as his own/' 
 
 t Perhaps the text should be, " but he shall 7iot cough me a 
 fool for his labour. " I have not altered it, because the present 
 reading may be defended, and explained in this way, " he shall 
 only cough like a fool for his pains." This affected phraseology 
 may be found in the second scene of the first act of " the Tam- 
 ing of the Shrew ;" where, " to knock me," means to knock ; 
 therefore, " to cough me," in the text, may mean simply to 
 cough. 
 
 X That peevish in the time of our poet was generally meant 
 to denote /oo/iA, appears from Shakspeare's Third Part of Henry 
 VI. 
 
 Why what a peevish fool was that of Crete, 
 That taught his son the oftice of a fowl. 
 VOL. I. K
 
 214 MOTHER BOMBIE : 
 
 they rock their children in their cradles till they 
 ' sleep, and cross them about their bridals till their 
 hearts ake. Marriage among them is become a 
 market: what will you give with your daughter? 
 what jointure will you make for your son ? And 
 many a match is broken off for a penny, more or 
 less, as though they could not afford their chil- 
 dren at such a price; when none should cheapen 
 such ware but affection, and none buy it but love. 
 
 JSper. Learnedly and scholar-like. 
 
 Liv. Indeed our parents take great care to 
 make us ask blessing and say grace when we are 
 little ones, and growing to years of judgment, 
 they deprive us of the greatest blessing and the 
 most gracious things, to our minds, the liberty of 
 bur minds : they give us pap with a spoon before 
 we can speak, and when we speak for that we love, 
 pap with a hatchet ; because their fancies being 
 grown musty with hoary age, therefore nothing 
 can relish in their thoughts that savours of sweet 
 youth; they study twenty years to make us grow 
 as straight as a wand ; and in the end, by bow- 
 ing us as crooked as a cammock*. For mine 
 own part, sweet Caudius, they shall pardon me ; 
 for I will measure my love by mine own judg- 
 
 and again, in the Merry Wives of Windsor, Mrs. Quickly, speak- 
 ing of her fellow-servant, says, " his worst fault is, that he is 
 given to prayer ; he is something peevish that way : but nobody 
 but has his feuit." 
 
 * " Crooked as a cammock." Cammock is explained by 
 Johnson to mean a herb called petty whin ; but this does not 
 seem agreeable to the context, which I think means something 
 that is bent or shaped artificially. Camber is used to denote a 
 piece of timber that is cut arching, and this agrees with the evi- 
 dent meaning of the word.
 
 A COMEDY. 215 
 
 ment, not my father's purse or peevishness. Na- 
 ture hath made me his child, not his slave. I 
 hate Memphio and his son deadly, if I wist he 
 would place his affection by his father's appoint- 
 ment. 
 
 Pris. Wittily, but uncivilly. 
 Cand. Be of that mind still, my fair Livia ; let 
 our fathers lay their purses together, we our 
 hearts ; I will never woo where I cannot love ; let 
 Stellio enjoy his daughter. But what have you 
 wrought here ? 
 
 Liv. Flowers, fowls, beasts, fishes, trees, plants, 
 stones, and what not. Among flowers, cowslips 
 and lilies, for our names Candius and Livia; 
 among fowls, turtles and sparrows, for our truth 
 and desires ; among beasts, the fox and the er- 
 mine, for beauty and policy ; and among fishes, 
 the cockle and the tortoise, because of Venus ; 
 among trees, the vine wreathing about the elm, 
 for our embracing ; among stones, asbestos, which 
 being hot will never be cold, for our constancies ; 
 among plants, time and heartsease, to note, that 
 if we take time we shall ease our hearts. 
 
 Pris. There's a girl that knows her lerripoop *. 
 
 Sper. Listen and you shall hear my son's 
 learning. 
 
 Liv. What book is that? 
 
 * " Lerripoop." Mr. Weber understands this word as allud- 
 ing to the loquacity with which women are charged ; I think 
 the meaning here is, " who hath perfectly learned her lesson, and 
 can repeat it by heart." It is again used by Lyiy in " Sapho 
 and Phao." 
 
 " Thou maist be skilled in thy logick, but not in thy lery- 
 poop." 
 
 K 2
 
 216 MOTHER BOMBIE : 
 
 Cand. A fine pleasant poet, who entreateth of 
 the Art of Love, and of the remedy. 
 
 Liv. Is there art in love? 
 
 Cand. A short art and a certain, three rules in 
 three lines. 
 
 Liv. I pray thee repeat them. 
 
 Cand. Principio, quodamare velis, reperire labor a^ 
 Proximus huic labor est ^placitam exorare puellam. 
 TertiuSy ut longo tempore duret amor. 
 
 Liv. I am no latinist, Candius, you must con- 
 strue it 
 
 Cand. So I vf'\% and parse it too : thou shalt 
 be acquainted with case, gender, and number. 
 First, one must find out a mistress, whom before 
 all others he voweth to serve. Secondly, that he 
 use all the means he may to obtain her : and the 
 last, with deserts, faith, and secresy, to study to 
 keep her. 
 
 Liv. What's the remedy ? 
 
 Cand. Death. 
 
 Liv, What of all the book is the conclusion ? 
 
 Cand. This is one verse: Non caret effectu 
 quod voluere duo. 
 
 Liv. What's that? 
 
 Caiid. Where two are agreed it is impossible 
 but they must speed. 
 
 Liv. Then cannot we miss ; therefore give me 
 thy hand, Candius. 
 
 Pris. Soft Livia, take me with you, it is not 
 good in law without witness. 
 
 Sper. And, as I remember, there must be two 
 witnesses: God give you joy, Candius; I was 
 worth the bidding to dinner, though not worthy to 
 be of the council.
 
 A COMEDY. 217 
 
 Pris. 1 think this hot love hath provided but 
 cold cheer. 
 
 Sper. Tush ; in love is no lack ; but blush not, 
 Candius, you need not be ashamed of your cun- 
 ning, and have made love a bookcase and spent 
 your time well at school, learning to love by art, 
 and hate against nature ; but I perceive the 
 worser child the better lover. 
 
 Pris. And my minion hath wrought well; 
 where every stitch in her sampler is a pricking- 
 stitch at my heart ; you take your pleasure at 
 parents; they are peevish, fools, and churls, 
 overgrown with ignorance, because overworn 
 with age: little shalt thou know the case of a 
 father before thyself be a mother, when thou 
 shalt breed thy child with continual pains and 
 with deadly pangs, nurse it with thine own paps, 
 and nourish it with motherly tenderness, and 
 then find them to curse thee with their hearts, 
 when they should ask blessing on their knees, 
 and the collops * of thine own bowels, to be the 
 torture of thine own soul ; with tears trickling 
 down thy cheeks, and drops of blood falling from 
 thy heart, thou wilt, in uttering of thy mind, wish 
 them rather unborn, than unnatural, and to have 
 had their cradles their graves, rather than thy 
 death their bridals. But I will not dispute what 
 thou shouldst have done, but correct what thou 
 hast done : I perceive sewing is an idle exercise, 
 and that every day there comes more thoughts 
 into thine head than stitches into thy work ; I'll 
 
 * " CoUop :" it is used here, as in Henry VI. for the oflfepring ; 
 " Thou art a collop of my flesh." 
 
 V
 
 218 MOTHER BOMBIE : 
 
 see whether you can spin a better mind than you 
 have stitched, and if I coop you not up, then let 
 me be the capon. 
 
 Sper. As for you, sir boy, instead of poring on 
 a book you shall hold the plough ; I'll make re- 
 X pentance reap what wantonness hath sown ; but 
 we are both well served, the sons must be mas- 
 ters, the fathers gaffers; what we get together 
 ^ with a rake, they cast abroad with a fork ; and 
 we must weary our legs, to purchase our chil- 
 dren arms*. Well, seeing that booking is but 
 idleness, I'll see whether threshing be any occu- 
 pation ; thy mind shall stoop to my fortune, or 
 mine shall break the laws of nature. How like 
 a micher f he stands, as though he had truanted 
 from honesty: get thee in, and for the rest let 
 me alone. In, villain ! ^ 
 
 Pris. And you, pretty minx, that must be fed; 
 with love upon sops, I'll take an order to cram 
 you with sorrows ; get you in without look or 
 reply. [JExeunt Cand. and JLiv. 
 
 Sper. Let us follow, and deal as rigorously* 
 with yours, as I will with mine, and you shall 
 see that hot love will wax soon cold : I'll tame 
 the proud boy, and send him as far from his love 
 as he is from his duty. > ?t 
 
 Pris. Let us about it, and also go on with 
 matching them to our minds ; it was happy we 
 prevented that by chance, which we could never 
 yet suspect by circumstance. [Exeunt. 
 
 * "To purchase our children arms." Heraldic arms are here 
 alluded to, and the meaning of the passage, " to make gentry of 
 our children." 
 
 t " Micher," a truant, an iudolent fellow.
 
 A COMEDY. 2\9 
 
 ACT II. Scene I. 
 Dromio and Risio*. 
 
 Drom. Now if I could meet with Risio it were 
 a world of waggery. 
 
 Ris. O that it were by chance, obvium dare 
 Dromio, to stumble upon Dromio, of whom I do 
 nothing but dream. i i^^^^\ }^?%S^. ^ 
 
 Drom. His knavery and my wit, should make 
 our masters, that are wise, fools ; their children, 
 that are fools, beggars; and us two,, that are 
 bond, free. 
 
 Ris. He to cozen, and I to conjure, would 
 make such alterations, that our masters should 
 serve themselves, the idiots, their children, serve 
 us, and we to wake our wits among them all. 
 
 Drom. Hem quam opportune^ look if he drop not 
 full in my dish. 
 
 Ris. Lupus in fabula, Dromio, embrace me, 
 hug me, I must make thee fortunate. 
 
 Drom. Risio, honour me, kneel down to me, 
 kiss my feet, I must make thee blessed. 
 
 Ris. My master, old Stellio, hath a fool to his 
 daughter. 
 
 * Lyly evidently formed his play on the model of Terence and 
 Plautus, in whom scenes like this are common, without remember- 
 ing that the Roman stage was, beyond comparison, larger than 
 ours; and that the first four speeches, spoken before they see 
 each other, would have been much more natural on a Roman 
 than on an' English stage.
 
 220 MOTHER bombie: 
 
 Drom. Nay, my master, old Memphio, hath a 
 fool to his son. 
 
 JRis. I must convey a contract. 
 
 Drom. And I must convey a contract. 
 
 Ris. Between her and Memphio's son, without 
 speaking one to another. 
 
 Drom. Between him and Stellio's daughter, 
 without one speaking to the other. 
 
 Ris. Dost thou mock me, Dromio ? 
 
 Drom. Thou dost me else. \ 
 
 Ris. Not I, for all that is true. 
 
 Drom. And all this. 
 
 Ris. Then we are both driven to our wits-ends; 
 for if either of them had been wise, we might 
 have tempered, if no marriage, yet a close mar- 
 riage. .->it,na.Ki 
 
 Drom. Well, let us sharpen our accounts : there's 
 OP. better grindstone for a young man's head, 
 ^]^. to have it whet upon an old man's purse. 
 Oh, thou shalt see my knavery shave like a 
 razor! , , , : ^o,;. . v ..>.^. 
 
 Ris. Thou for the edge, and I the point, will 
 make the fool bestride our mistress' backs, and 
 then have at the bag with the dudgeon haft; that 
 is, at the dudgeon dagger, by which hangs his 
 tantony pouch. 
 
 Drom. These old huddles have such strong 
 purses with locks, when they shut them they go 
 off like a snaphance *. 
 
 Ris. The old fashion is best ; a purse with a 
 ring round about it, is a circle to course a knave's 
 hand from it : but, Dromio, two they say may 
 
 * " Snaphance," the ancient name for a firelock.
 
 ^ ' A COMEDY. S5f 
 
 keep counsel, if one be away; but to convey 
 knavery, two are too few and four to many. - 
 
 Drom. And in good time look where Halfpenny, 
 Sperantus' boy, cometh ; though bound up in 
 decimosexto for carriage, yet a wit in folio for 
 cozenage. Single Halfpenny, what news are 
 now current? iw oiH gxiow ajitJ ;t 
 
 Enter Halfpenny. 
 
 Half. Nothing but that such double coystrels* 
 as you be are counterfeit. >* ' ' ' -' ' ! .up. ^^ - 
 
 Ris. Are you so dapper, we'll send you for a 
 halfpenny loaf. iv-oi !-< 
 
 Half. I shall go for '^ilVei*' though, when you 
 shall be nailed up for slips. ' 
 
 Drom. Thou art a slipstring, I'll warrant.^ ^^^^^ 
 f Half I hope you shall never slip string, but 
 iiang steady. " '" -Min..,...-. :, ..:.mi 
 
 Ris. Dromiy; Ibok here?'iyi^ fy^rf^fMri^ 
 
 my halfpenny. '*>i- -^^^ ^'^ ^^ ^*' '^* <^^ ' ' 
 
 Half Thou liest ; thou hast not a farthing^tb' 
 lay thy hands on ; I am none of thine ; but let 
 me be wagging, my head is full of hammers, and 
 they have so malletted my wit, that I am almost 
 a malcontent. '^^ "' ^'^^^^ ^"^^^^ ' ^Ui^.-.H* 
 
 Drom. Why, what's the matter ?'^'"^<^ -*^^' 
 Half My master hath a fine scholar ltd* his 
 son, Prisius a fair lass to his daughter. 
 
 * " Coystrel," a mean, or druDkcn fellow; it is properly a 
 wine-vessel." m alone. 
 
 " This word seems to be corrupted from kestrel, a bastard kind 
 
 of hawk." STEVENS. 
 
 To judge from the context, I should think some bad coin was 
 then quaintly called coystrel.
 
 22^ MOTHER BOMBIE : 
 
 Xhom. Well. 
 
 Half, They two love one another deadly. 
 
 Ris. In good time. s^aiiHi/vw*jt*A 
 
 Half. The fathers have put them ilp, utterly 
 disliking the match ; and have appointed the one 
 shall have Memphio's son, the other Stellio's 
 daughter; this works like wax; but how it will 
 fadge in the end, the hen that sits next the cock 
 cannot tell. 
 
 Mis. If thou have but any spice of knavery 
 we'll make thee happy. 
 
 Half. Tush, doubt not of mine; I am as full 
 for my pitch as you are for yours ; a w^ren's egg 
 is as full of meat as a goose's egg, though there 
 be not so much in it ; you shall find this head 
 well stuft though there went little stuff to it. 
 
 Drom. Lando ingenium, I like thy sconce ; then 
 hearken: Memphio's made me of his council 
 about marriage of his son to Stellio's daughter ; 
 Stellio made Risio acquainted to plot a match 
 with Memphio's son ; to be short, they be both 
 fools. 
 
 Half But they are not fools that be short ; if I 
 thought thou mean'st so, senties qui vir siniy thou 
 shouldst have a crow to pull. :>,j^.'v|/'m 
 
 His. Be not angry, Halfpenny ; for fellowship 
 we will be all fools, and for gain all knaves. But 
 why dost thou laugh ? 
 
 Half At mine own conceit and quick cen- 
 sure. 
 
 Ris. What's the matter? 
 
 Half Suddenly methought you two were asses, 
 and that the least ass was the more ass. 
 
 Ris. Thou art a fool ; that cannot be.
 
 A COMEDY. 223 
 
 Half. Yea, my young master taught me to 
 prove it by learning, and so I can, out of Ovid, 
 by a verse. '* 
 
 JRis. Prithee how? ^^ 
 
 Half. You must first, for fashion sake, conf(bs8 
 yourselves to be asses. 
 
 Drom. Well. 
 
 Half. Then stand you here, and you there. 
 
 Ris. Go to. 
 
 Half. Then this is the verse as I point it: 
 Cum mala per longas invaluSre moras, so you see 
 the least ass is the more ass *. 
 
 Ris. We'll bite for an ape, if thou bob us like 
 asses. But to end all, if thou wilt join with us, 
 we will make a match between the two fools, for 
 that must be our tasks, and thou shalt devise to 
 couple Candius and Livia by overreaching their 
 fathers. 
 
 Half. Let me alone, non enim mea pigra in^ 
 ventiOy there's matter in this noddle. 
 
 Enter Lucio. 
 
 But look where Prisius' boy comes, as fit as a 
 pudding for a dog's mouth. 
 
 Luc. Pop three knaves in a sheath, I'll make 
 it a right Tunbridge case and be the bodkin. 
 
 Ris. Nay, the bodkin is here already ; you 
 must be the knife. 
 
 Half I am the bodkin, look well to your ears ; 
 I must bore them. 
 
 * Halfpenny's wit is somewhat obscure : a pun seems to, be 
 intended between longas and long-ass, and between moras and 
 more-ass.
 
 224 MOTHER BOMBIG : 
 
 Dram. Mew * thy tongue or we'll cut it out : 
 this I speak representing the person of a knife^f 
 as thou didst that in shadow of a bodkin. 
 
 Luc. I must be gone ; tcedet, it irketh ; oportet, 
 it behoveth my wits to work like barme, alias 
 yeast, alias sizing, alias rising, alias God's good. 
 
 Half, The new wine is in thine head, yet was 
 he fain to take this metaphor from ale ; and now 
 you talk of ale, let us all to the wine. 
 
 Drom. Four makes a mess, and we have a 
 mess of master that must be cozened; let us 
 lay our heads together, they are married and 
 cannot. 
 
 Half. Let us consult at the tavern; where, 
 after to the health of Memphio, drink we to the 
 life of Stellio ; I carouse to Prisius, and brinch 
 you mas Sperantus \ ; we shall cast up our ac- 
 counts and discharge our stomachs, like men 
 that can digest any thing. 
 
 Luc. I see not yet what you go about. 
 
 Drom. Lucio, that can pierce a mud-wall of 
 twenty feet thick, would make us believe he 
 cannot see a candle through a paper lantern; 
 his knavery is beyond ela, and yet he says he 
 knows not gamut. 
 
 Luc. I am ready, if any cozenage be ripe, I'll 
 shake the tree. 
 
 * " Mew thy tongue." The mew was the place where hawks 
 were confined during winter, or when moulting : it was thence 
 used in the sense of confine, secure, shut up. 
 
 t The meaning is, " I drink to your master, and you to mine.'' 
 I have, however, never seen the word brinch and suspect the 
 passage to be corrupt. Mas is still used in Scotland for master, 
 it may be here a contraction of it.
 
 A COMEDY. 226 
 
 Half. Nay, I hope to see thee so strong to 
 shake three trees at once. 
 
 Drom. We bum time, for I must give a reck- 
 oning of my day's work ; let us close to the bush*, 
 ad deliberandum. 
 
 Half. Indeed, inter pocula pkilosopliandum, it 
 is good to plea among pots. 
 
 Ris. Thine will be the worst, I fear we shall 
 leave a halfpenny in hand. 
 
 Half. Why, sayest thou that thou hast left a 
 print deeper in thy hand already than a half- 
 penny can leave, unless it should singe worse 
 than a hot iron. 
 
 L,uc. All friends, and so let us sing; 'tis a 
 pleasant thing to go into the tavern clearing the 
 throat. 
 
 SONGt. 
 
 Omnes. 16 Bacchus ! To thy table 
 
 Thou call'st every drunken rabble ; 
 We already are stiff drinkers, 
 Then seal us for thy jolly skinckerst- 
 Drom. Wine, O wine! 
 
 O juice divine! 
 How dost thou the nowie || refine. 
 Ris. Plump thou mak'st men's ruby faces. 
 And from girls can fetch embraces. 
 
 * " Let us close to the bush." A bough of a tree was usually 
 suspended in front of the houses where wine and spirits were sold: 
 thence the old proverb quoted in the epilogue of " As You Like 
 it," " Good wine needs no bush." 
 
 t The songs in this play are omitted in the quarto edition of 
 1798, and given from Mr. Blount's. 
 
 X " Skincker," a cup bearer. 
 
 II " Nowle," the top of the head. Bailet. It is used here 
 for the head, or sense itself.
 
 226 MOTHER BOM DIE : 
 
 Half. By thee our noses swell 
 
 With sparkling carbuncle. 
 Luc. O the dear blood of grapes. 
 Turns us to antic shapes. 
 Now to show tricks like apes. 
 Drom. Now lion-like to roar, 
 - Ris. Now goatishly to whore. 
 Half. Now hogishly i' th' mire, 
 Luc. Now flinging hats i' th' fire. 
 Omnes. to Bacchus ! at thy table. 
 
 Make us of thy reeling rabble. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. 
 Enter Memphio. 
 
 Mem. I marvel I hear no news of Dromio ; 
 either he slacks the matter,' or betrays his mas- 
 ter; I dare not motion any thing to Stellio till I 
 know what my boy hath done ; I'll hunt him out ; 
 if the loiter-sack be gone springing into a tavern, 
 I'll fetch him reeling out. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Stellio. 
 
 Stel. Without doubt Risio hath gone beyond 
 himself in casting beyond the moon ; I fear the 
 boy be run mad with studying, for I know he 
 loved me so well, that for my favour he will ven- 
 ture to run out of his wits, and it may be to 
 quicken his invention he is gone into this ivy- 
 bush, a notable nest for a grape-owl : I'll ferret 
 him out,, yet in the end use him friendly. I can- 
 not be merry till I hear what's done in the mar- 
 riages. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Prisius. 
 
 Pris. I think Lucio be gone a squirreling, but 
 I'll (squirrel him for it; I sent him on my errand,
 
 A COMEDY. - 227 
 
 but I must go for an answer myself: I have 
 tied up the loving worm my daughter, and will 
 see whether fancy can worm fancy out of hep 
 head : this green nosegay I fear my boy hath 
 smelt to * ; for if he get but a penny in his purse 
 he turns it so suddenly into argentum potabile. 
 I must search every place for him ; for I stand 
 on thorns till I hear what he hath done. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Enter Sperantus. 
 
 Sper, Well, be as be may is no banning f; I 
 think I have charmed my young master ; a hun- 
 gry meal, a ragged coat, and a dry cudgel, have 
 put him quite beside his love and his logic too : be- 
 sides pigsnyj is put up; and, therefore, now I'll 
 let him take the air and follow Stellio's daughter, 
 with all his learning if he mean to be my heir ; 
 the boy hath wit sans measure more than needs ; 
 cat's meat and dog's meat enough for the vantage. 
 Well, without Halfpenny all my wit is not worth 
 a dodkinjl ; that mite is mitching in this grove; 
 for as long as his name is Halfpenny he will be 
 banqueting for the other halfpenny. [Exit. 
 
 Scene HI. 
 
 Enter Candius. 
 Cand. He must needs go that the devil drives ; 
 a father, a fiend, that seeks to place affection by 
 
 * By the green nosegay Prisius means the ivy-bush, before 
 spoken of, fixed up at the door of the tavern. 
 
 t The meaning is, " I do not curse my son when I discard 
 him." 
 
 X " Pigsny," a fondling epithet. 
 
 II " Dodkin," a coin ; of value the eighth part of a stiver ; hence 
 used as a term of contempt for things of tlie least possible value.
 
 228 MOTHER BoamiE: 
 
 appointment, and to force love by compulsion. 
 1 have sworn to woo Silena, but it shall be so 
 coldly that she take as small delight in my words, 
 as I do contentment in his commandment ; I'll 
 teach him one school-trick in love. But behold 
 who is that that cometh out of Stellio's house? 
 It should seem to be Silena by her attire. 
 
 ,K 
 
 Enter Silena. 
 
 By her face I am sure it is she: oh, fair face! 
 oh,' lovely countenance ! How now, Candius, if 
 thou begin to slip at beauty on a sudden, thou 
 wilt surfeit with carousing it at the last. Ke- 
 member that Livia is faithful ; ah ! and let thine 
 eyes witness Silena is amiable ; here shall I please 
 my father and myself: I will learn to be obedient, 
 and come what will, I'll make a way : if she seem 
 coy, I'll practise all the Art of Love ; if cun- 
 ning*, all the pleasures of love. 
 
 Sil. My name is Silena, I care not who knows 
 it, so I do not : my father keeps me close, so he 
 does, and now I have stolen out, so I have, to go 
 to old Bombie to know my fortune, so I will ; 
 for I have as fair a face as ever trod on shoe-sole, 
 and as free a foot as ever looked w ith two eyes. 
 
 Cand. What, I think she is lunatic, or foolish ! 
 
 * " If cunning," in the quarto of 1598 ; and in The Six Court 
 Comedies, this runs, " If I her cunning ;" the edition of 1594 I 
 could not obtain. An error was evident, and it might have 
 been altered otherwise; indeed I think the right reading if 
 coming, as it is evidently contrasted with coy. Candius, struck 
 with the appearance of Silena, declares that if she were coy he 
 would endeavour to engage her affections, and if she were in- 
 clined to favour him, would profit by her fondness. Coming is 
 explained by Johnson to mean fond; forward ; ready to come.
 
 A COMEDY. 229 
 
 Thou art a fool, Candius ; so fair a face cannot 
 be the scabbard of a foolish mind ; mad she may 
 be, for commonly in bfeanty so rare there falls 
 passions extreme; love and beauty disdain a 
 mean ; not, therefore, because beauty is no virtue,* 
 but because it is happiness ; and we scholars know 
 that virtue is not to be praised but honoured. I 
 will put on my best grace. Sweet wench, thy 
 face is lovely, thy body comely, and all that the 
 eye can see enchanting : you see how, unac- 
 quainted, I am bold to board you s3i jij vi ;V 
 
 Sil. My father boards me already, therefore I 
 care not if your name were Geoffrey. 
 
 Cand. She raves or overreaches. I am one, 
 sweet soul, that loves you; brought hither by re- 
 port of your beauty, and here languisheth with 
 your rareness. 
 
 Sil. I thank you that you would call. 
 
 Cand. I will always call on such a saint, that 
 hath power to release my soitows; yield, fair 
 creature, to love. 
 
 Sil. I am none of that sect. 
 
 Cand. Thy loving sect is an ancient sect and 
 an honourable, and therefore should be in a per- 
 son so perfect. 
 
 Sil. Much ! 
 
 Cand. 1 love thee much; give me one word of 
 comfort. 
 
 Sil. I'faith, sir, no ; and so tell your master. 
 
 Cand. I have no master, but come to make 
 choice of a mistress. 
 
 Sil. Ha, ha; are you there with your bears ? 
 
 Cand. Doubtless she is an idiot of the newest 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 230 ^ MOTHER BOMBIE I f 
 
 cut. I'll once more try her. (Aside. J I have 
 loved thee long, Silena. 
 
 Sil. In yonr t'other hose ? 
 
 Cand. Too simple to be natural, too senseless 
 to be artificial. (Aside.) You said you went to 
 know your fortune; I am a scholar and cunning 
 in palmistry. 
 
 Sil. The better for you, sir : here's my hand, 
 what's a clock ? 
 
 Cand. The line of life is good ; Venus' mount 
 very perfect : you shall have a scholar for your 
 first husband. 
 
 Sil. You are well seen in crane's dirt ; your 
 father was a poulterer; ha, ha, ha, 
 
 Cand. Why laugh you? 
 
 Sil. Because you should see my teeth. 
 
 Cand. Alas, poor wretch ! I see now also thy 
 folly : a fair fool is like a fresh weed, pleasing 
 leaves and sour juice. I will not yet leave her, 
 she may dissemble. (Aside.) I cannot choose 
 but love thee. 
 
 Sil. I had thought to ask you. 
 
 Card. Nay, then, farewell : either too proud 
 to accept, or too simple to understand. 
 
 Sil. You need not be crusty, you are not so 
 hard baked. 
 
 Cand. Now I perceive thy folly; who hast 
 raked together all the odd blind phrases that 
 help them that know not how to discourse, but 
 when they cannot answer wisely, either with 
 gybing cover their rudeness, or by some new 
 coined by-word bewray * their peevishness ; I am 
 
 * " Bewray," to show, to discover. It has much the meaning 
 of betray, but was commonly used at that time.
 
 # A COMEDY. 2S1 
 
 glad of this : now shall I have colour to refuse 
 the match, and my father reason to accept of 
 Livia : I will home, and repeat to my father our 
 wise encounter, and he shall perceive there is no- 
 thing so fulsome as a she-fool. [xit. 
 
 Sil. Good God, I think gentlemen had never 
 less wit in a year. We maids are mad wenches, 
 we gird them *, and flout them out of all scotch 
 and notch, and they cannot see it. I will know 
 of the old woman whether I be a maid or no; 
 and then if I be not, I must needs be a man. 
 God be here. 
 
 Enter Mother Bombie. 
 
 Bom. Who 's there ? 
 Sil. One that would be a maid. 
 Bom. lithonhenot^ it is impossible thou shotddst 
 be^ and a shame thou art not. 
 Sil. They say you are a witch. 
 Bom. They lie; I am a cunning woman. 
 Sil. Then tell me something. 
 Bom. Hold up thy hand : not so high. 
 Thy father knows thee not, 
 Thy mother bare thee not, 
 Falsely bred, 
 Truly begot. 
 Choice of two husbands, but never tied 
 
 in bands, 
 Because of love and natural bonds. 
 Sil. I thank you for nothing, because I under- 
 stand nothing : though you be as old as you are, 
 yet am I as young as I am ; and because that I 
 
 # 
 " We gird them," sneer at them. 
 
 s2
 
 'IS'l MOTHER BOMBIE: fr 
 
 am so fair, therefore are you so foul * ; and so fare- 
 well frost, my fortune nought me cost. [Exit. 
 
 Bom. Farewell, fair fool ; little dost thou know 
 thy hard fortune ; but in the end thou shalt, and 
 that must bewray what none can discover; in 
 the mean season I will profess cunning for all 
 comers. [E.xit. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 Dromio, Risio, Lucid, nnd Halfpij^ny. 
 
 .1 
 Drom. We are all taken tardy. 
 
 Ris. Our masteE| will be overtaken f if they 
 tarry. 
 
 Half. Now must every one by wit make an 
 excuse, and every excuse must be cozenage. 
 
 Luc. Let us remember our complot. 
 
 Drom. We will all plod on that. Oh ! the 
 wine hath turned my wit to vinegar. 
 
 Ris. You mean 'tis sharp. 
 
 Half. Sharp ! I'll warrant 'twill serve for as 
 good sauce to knavery as 
 
 LjUC. As what? 
 
 Half As thy knavery's meat for his wit. 
 
 Drom. We must all give a reckoning for our 
 day's travel. 
 
 * " And therefore aje you so foul:" foul is frequently used 
 by the dramatic writers of that age to denote plainness, or home- 
 liness. In this sense it may be found in the "King and no 
 King" of Beaumont and Fletcher, and in the third Act, third 
 Scene, of " As you like it ;" but, it may here possibly allude te 
 the harsh language which Silena supposes she has received ^m 
 Bombie. 
 
 .t " Overtaken," it means made drunk : perhaps Risio also 
 . intends to play on the words of Droniio.
 
 * A COMEDY. '433 
 
 Ris. Tush ! I am glad we escaped the reck- 
 oning for our liquor. If you be examined how 
 we met, swear by chance, for so they met, and 
 therefore will believe it: if how much we drunk, 
 let them answer themselves, they know best be- 
 cause they paid it. 
 
 V. Half. We must not tarry abeundum est mihty 
 I must go and cast this matter in a corner*. 
 
 Drom. T, pr(B seqvMV, a bowl, and I'll come after 
 with a broom ; every one remember his cue. 
 
 Ris. Aye, and his K, or else we shall thrive 
 ill. 
 
 Half. When shall we meet? 
 
 Ris. To-morrow, fresh and fasting. 
 
 Drom. Fast eating our meat ; for we have 
 drunk for to-morrow, and to-morrow we must 
 eat for to-day. 
 
 Half. Away, away! if our masters take us 
 here the matter is marr'd . 
 
 LiUC. Let every one to his task. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. 
 Memphio, Stellio, Prisius, and Spekantu's. 
 
 Mem. How quickly \1^ met on a sudden in 
 a tavern, that drunk not together almost these 
 thirty years. 
 
 Stel. A tavern is the rendezvous, the exchange, 
 the staple for good fellows * I have heard ray 
 great grandfather tell, how his great great grand- 
 
 * The meaning of Halfpenny is, that the liquor hath made 
 him sick : the meaning of the bowl and broom will now be cfeajr.
 
 234 MOTHER BOMBIE *. 
 
 father should say, that it was an old proverb 
 when his great grandfather was a child*, that it 
 was a good wind that blew a man to the wine. 
 
 Pris. The old time was a good time; ale was 
 an ancient drink, and accounted of our ancestors 
 authentical. Gascoign wine was a liquor for a 
 lord ; sack a medicine for the sick ; and 1 may 
 tell you, he that had a cup of red wine to his 
 oysters was hoisted in the queen's subsidy book. 
 
 Sper. Ah ! but now you see to what looseness 
 this age is grown : our boys carouse sack like 
 double beer, and say that which doth an old 
 man good can do a young man no harm : old 
 men (say they) eat pap, why should not young 
 men' drink sack, their white heads have counted 
 time out of mind our young years. 
 
 Mem. Well, the world is wanton since 1 knew 
 it first : our boys put as much wine in their bel- 
 lies in an hour, as would clothe their whole bodies 
 in a vear: and, as I have heard, it was as much 
 as bought Rufus, sometime king of this land, a 
 pair of hose. 
 
 Pris. Is't possible ? 
 
 Stel. Nay, 'tis true : they say ale is out of re- 
 quest; 'tis hog's porridge, bi*oth for beggars, a 
 caudle for constables, ^watchmen's mouth-glue ; 
 the better it is the more like bird-lime it is, and 
 never makes one staid but in the stocks. 
 
 Mem. I'll teach my wag-halter to know grapes 
 from barley. % 
 
 * This passage was probably intended as a sneer at the Popish 
 doctrine of oral tradition ; and perhaps Swift had it in his eye 
 when he wrote that passage in his " Tale of a Tub," in which 
 Lord Peter proves their right to wear gold lace.
 
 A COMEDY. 235 
 
 Pris. And I mine, to discern a spigot from a 
 faucet. 
 
 Sper. And I mine, to judge the difference be- 
 tween a black bowl and a silver goblet. 
 
 Stel. And mine shall learn the odds between 
 a stand and a hogshead ; yet I cannot choose 
 but laugh to see how my wag answered me when 
 I strook him for drinking sack. 
 
 Pris. Why, what said he ? 
 
 Stel. Master, it is the sovereignest drink in 
 the world, and the safest for all times and wea- 
 thers : if it thunder, though all the ale and beer 
 in the town turn, it will be constant ; if it lighten, 
 and that any fire come to it, it is the aptest wine to 
 burn, and the most wholesomest when it is burnt; 
 so much for summer. If it freeze, why it is so 
 hot in operation that no ice can congeal it ; if it 
 rain, why then he that cannot abide the heat of 
 it, may put in water ; so much for winter : and 
 so ran his way ; but I'll overtake him. 
 
 Sper. Who would think that my hop-o'-my- 
 thumb. Halfpenny, scarce so high as a pint pot, 
 would reason the matter ; but he learned his 
 leer* of my son, his young master, whom I have 
 brought up at Oxford, and I think must learn 
 here, in Kent, of Ashford. 
 
 Mem. Why, what said he? 
 
 Sper. He boldly rapt it out, sine Cerere et Baccho 
 friget Venus^ without wine and sugar his veins 
 would wax cold. ii 
 
 Mem. They were all in a pleasant vein ; but I 
 must begone, and take account of my boy's busi- 
 
 * " Leer," doctrine, information.
 
 cH^ MOTHER BOMBIE : 
 
 ness. (Aside). Farewell, neighbours, God knows 
 when we shall meet again. Yet I have disco- 
 vered nothing, my wine hath been my wit's 
 friend ; 1 long to hear what Dromio hath done. 
 (Aside.) . u*i;., ,.j [Exit. 
 
 Stel. I cannot iStay ; but this good fellowship 
 shall cost me the setting on at our next meeting. 
 I am glad 1 blabbed nothing of the marriage, now 
 I hope to compass it. I know my boy hath been 
 bungling about it *. (Aside.) [Exit. 
 
 Pris. Let us all go ; for I must to my clothes 
 that hang on the tenters ; my boy shall hang with 
 them, if he answer me not his day's work, (aside.) 
 
 .: ::... .;;...; . ^ :. .: \Exit. 
 
 Sper. If all be gone, I'll not stay. Halfpenny 
 I am sure hath done me a pennyworth of good, 
 else I'll spend his body in buying a rod. [Exit. 
 
 * *' Bungling about if," means " making some sort of attempt 
 to accomplish it." In the second Scene of the third Act of the 
 " Merry Wives of Windsor," Shallow says, " We have lingered 
 about a match between Anne Page and my cousin Slender." I 
 think lingering here attd bungling in the text, have precisely 
 the same meaning. 
 
 **f
 
 A COMEDY. ' 237 
 
 ACT III. Scene I. tv jimmw 
 M.ESTius and Serena. 
 
 M(Bst. Sweet sister, I know not hoM^ it Cometh 
 to pass, but 1 find in myself passions more than 
 brotherly. vdlr/l?*]: j 
 
 Ser. And I, dear brother, find my thoughts 
 entangled with affections beyond nature; which 
 so flame in my distempered head, that I can nei- 
 ther without danger smother the fire, nor with 
 modesty disclose my fury. i uv*.^^, 
 
 McBst. Our parents are poor, our love niVna- 
 tural, what then can happen to make us happy? 
 
 Ser, Only to be coutent with our fathers' mean 
 estate, to combat against our own intemperate 
 desires, and yield to the success of fortune ; who, 
 though she hath framed us*miserablej*l<cannot 
 make us monstrous. 
 
 3I(Est. It is good counsel, fair sister, if the ne- 
 cessity of love could be relieved by counsel. 
 
 Ser. Yet, this is our comfort, that these imna- 
 tural heats have stretched themselves no further 
 than thoughts ; unhappy me, that they shoidd 
 stretch so*. 
 
 Mcest. So it is, Serena, the nearer we are in 
 blood, the further we must be from love ; and 
 the greater the kindred is, the less the kindness 
 
 * There is some error here in the edition of 1598, which is 
 faithfully copied into Mr. Blount's ; this speech is there made a 
 continuation of Maestius'.
 
 238 MOTHER bombie: 
 
 must be; so that between brothers and sisters, 
 superstition hath made affection cold ; between 
 strangers, custom hath bred love exquisite. 
 
 Ser. They say there is hard by an old cunning 
 woman, who can tell fortunes, expound dreams, 
 tell of things that be lost, and divine of accidents 
 to come; she is called the good woman, who yet 
 never did hurt. 
 
 Mast. Nor any good, I think, Serena; yet, to 
 satisfy thy mind, we will see what she can say. 
 
 Ser. Good brother, let us. 
 
 McBst. Who is within ? 
 
 Enter Mother Bombie. 
 
 Bom. The dame of the house. 
 
 McBst. She might have said the beldam, for 
 her face and years and attire. 
 
 Ser. Good mother, tell us, if by your cunning you 
 can, what shall become of my brother and me ? 
 
 Som. Let me see you hands, and look on me 
 stedfastly with your eyes. 
 
 You shall be married to-morrow, hand in hand. 
 And by the law s of God, nature, and the land ; 
 Your parents shall be glad, and give you their land, 
 You shall each of you displace a fool. 
 And both together must relieve a fool ; 
 If this be not true, then call me an old fool. 
 
 Mast. This is my sister, marry we cannot ; 
 our parents are poor, and have no lands to give 
 us ; each of us is a fool to come for counsel to such 
 an old fool. 
 
 Ser. These doggrel rhymes and obscure words, 
 coming out of the mouth of such a weather-beaten 
 witch, are thought divinations of some holy spirit,
 
 A COMEDY. 'If^ 
 
 being but dreams of decayed brains ; for mine 
 own part, I would thou mightest sit on that stool 
 till he and I marry by law. 
 
 Som. I say Mother Bombie never speaks but 
 once, and yet never spake untruth once. 
 - Ser. Come, brother, let us to our poor home; 
 this is our comfort, to bewray our passions, since 
 we cannot enjoy them. 
 
 ^ MiEst. Content, sweet sister, and learn of me 
 hereafter, that these old saws of such old hags, 
 are but false fires to lead one out of a plain 
 path into a deep pit. yExetint. 
 
 Scene II. 
 Dromio and Risio. 
 
 JDrom. Ingenium quondam fiterat pretiosiLs auro, 
 the time was wherein wit would work like wax, 
 and crock up gold like honey. 
 
 Ris. At nunc barbaria est grandis habere nihily 
 but now wit and honesty buy nothing in the 
 market. 
 
 Drom. What, Risio, how sped'st thou after 
 thy potting? 
 
 Ris. Nay, jny master rung all in the tavern, and 
 thrust all out in the house. But how sped'st thou ? 
 
 Drom. I ? It w^ere a day's work *o drscourse 
 it ; he spake nothing but sentences, but they were 
 veiigible long ones; for when one word was out, 
 he made pause of a quarter long till he spake 
 another. 
 
 Ris. Why, what did he in all that time ?
 
 240 MOTHER BOMBIE I 
 
 Drom. Break interjections like wind, as eho, 
 hOy O. 
 
 Itis. And what thou ? 
 
 Drom. Answer him in his own lanjjuage, as, 
 etiax, vahy htii, a*< mf^y. 
 
 Ris. These were conjtinctibtis rather than in- 
 terjections. But what of the plot ? 
 
 Drom. As we concluded; I told him that we 
 understood that Silena was very wise, and could 
 sing exceedingly ; that my device was, seeing 
 Accius, his son, a proper youth, oould also 
 sing sweetly, that he should come in the nick 
 when she was singing, and answer her. 
 
 Ris. Excellent ! 
 
 Dram. Then he asked, how it should be de- 
 vised that she might come abroad; I told that 
 was cast already by my means ; then the song 
 being ended, and they seeing one another, noting 
 the apparel, and thanking the personages, he 
 should call in his sou for fear he should over- 
 reach his speech*. 
 
 Ris. Very good. 
 
 Drom. Then, that I had gotten a young gen- 
 tleman, that resembled his son in years and fa- 
 vour, that having Accius' apparel should court 
 Silena; whom she finding wise, would after that 
 by small entreaty be won without any words, and 
 so the marriage clapt up by this cozenage, and 
 his son never speak word for himself 
 
 Ris. Thou boy, so have I done in every point; 
 for the song, the calling her in, and the hoping 
 
 * " Overreach his speech," i. e. discover his folly by his con- 
 versation.
 
 A COMEDY. 24:1^ 
 
 that another shall woo Accius, and his daughter 
 wed him ; I told him this wooing should be to- 
 night, and they early married in the morning, 
 without any words saving to say after the priest. 
 Drom. All this fadges well : now if Halfpenny 
 and Lucio have played their parts, we shall have 
 excellent sport; and here they come. How 
 wrought the wine, -mylars r ? < 
 
 '"^.^i .'(....ii*'! ^i<.i^^n'^ rj-iini \mh .i<,iM 
 
 Enter Halfpenny and Lucio. .v 
 
 Half. How ? like wine ; for my body being 
 the rundlet, and my mouth the vent, it wrought 
 two days over, till I had thought the hoops of 
 my head would have flown asunder. 
 
 Luc. The best was, our masters were as well 
 whitled* as we, for yet they lie by it. 
 
 Ris. The better for us: we did but a little 
 parboil our livers, they have sod theirs in sack 
 these forty years. 
 
 Half. That makes them spit white broth as 
 they do. But to the purpose ; Candius and Li- 
 via will send their attires; you must send the 
 apparel of Accius and Silena; they wonder where- 
 fore, but commit the matter to our quadrupartite 
 wit. 
 
 Luc. If you keep promise to marry them by 
 our device, and their parent's consent, you shall 
 have ten pounds a-piece for your pains. 
 
 Drom. If we do it not, we are undone ; for we 
 have broached a cozenage already, and my mas- 
 ter hath the tap in his hand, that it must needs 
 
 * " As well whitled as we," as drunk as ourselves. A whittle 
 was a clasped knife, and a person in liquor is still, sometimes, 
 said to be cut.
 
 242 MOTHER BOMBIE I 
 
 run out ; let them be ruled, and bring hither their 
 apparel, and we will determine ; the rest commit 
 to our intricate considerations; depart. 
 
 [Exeunt Half, and Luc. 
 
 Enter Accius and Silena. 
 
 Drom. Here comes Accius tuning his pipes; I 
 perceive my master keeps touch. 
 
 Ris. And here comes Silena with her wit of 
 proof; marry, it will scarce hold our question 
 shot ; let us in to instruct our masters in their cue. 
 
 Drom. , Come let us be jogging ; but wert 
 not a world to hear them woo one to another ? 
 
 Ris. That shall be hereafter to make us sport, 
 but our masters shall never know it. [Exeunt 
 
 Memphio and Stellio singing. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Mem. O Cupid ! monarch over kings, 
 
 . Wherefore hast thou feet and wings? 
 It is to show how swift thou art 
 When thou wound'st a tender heart ; 
 Thy wings being clip'd and feet held still, 
 Thy bow so many could not kill. 
 Stel. It is all one in Venus' wanton school. 
 
 Who highest sits, the wiseman, or the fool: 
 Fools in love's college. 
 Have far more knowledge. 
 To read a woman over. 
 Than a neat prating lover ; 
 Nay, 'tis confest, 
 That fools please women best.
 
 A COMEDY. 243 
 
 Scene III. 
 Memphio and Stellio. 
 
 Mem. Accius, come in, and that quickly ; what, 
 walking without leave? 
 
 ,SteL Silena, I pray you look homeward ; it is 
 a cold air, and you want a mufler*. 
 
 [^Exeunt Accius and Silena. 
 
 Mem. This is pat ; if the rest proceed, Stellio 
 is like to marry his daughter to a fool ; but a bar- 
 gain is a bargain. 
 
 Stel. This frames to my wish; Memphio is 
 like to marry a fool to his son ; Accius' tongue 
 shall tie all Memphio's land to Silena's dowry, 
 let his father's teeth undo them if he can : but 
 here I see Memphio; I must seem kind, for in 
 kindness lies cozenage. 
 
 Mem. Well, here is Stellio; I'll talk of other 
 matters, and fly from the mark I shoot at, lap- 
 wing-like, flying far from the place where I nestle. 
 Stellio, what makes you abroad ? I heard you 
 were sick since our last drinking. 
 
 Stel. You see reports are no truths; I heard 
 the like of you, and we are both well. I perceive 
 sober men tell most lies, for in vino Veritas, if they 
 had drunk wine, they would have told the truth. 
 
 Mem. Our boys will be sure then never to lie, 
 for they are ever swilling of wine : but, Stellio, I 
 must strain cursy f with you, I have business, I 
 cannot stay. 
 
 * The reader who will consult Mr. Douce's note on a passage 
 in the second Scene of the fourth Act of the " Merry Wives of 
 Windsor," may see a variety of specimens of this covering. 
 
 t " Cursy," courtesy ; possibly an error of ihe press.
 
 244 MOTHER BOMBIE I 
 
 Stel. In good time, Meraphio, for I was about 
 to crave your patience to depart, it stands me 
 upon. Perhaps move his patience ere it be long. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Mem. Good, silly Stellio, we must buckle 
 shortly. (Asideyi^.^^^^^^^^, {Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. \ 
 
 t 
 Halfpenny, Lucio, and Rixula. 
 
 Luc. Come, Rixula, we have made thee privy 
 to our whole pack, there lay down the pack. 
 
 Rix. I believe, unless it be better handled, we 
 shall out of doors. 
 
 Half. I care not, omne solum forti patria, I 
 can live in Christendom as well as in Kent. ^ 
 
 Luc. And I'll sing patria uhicunque bene, every 
 house is my home, where I may stanch* hunger. 
 
 Rix. Nay, if you set all on hazard, though I 
 be a poor wench, I am as hardy as you both ; I 
 cannot speak Latin, but, in plain English^ if any 
 thing fall out cross, I'll run away. 
 
 Half. He loves thee well that would run after. 
 
 Rix. Why, Halfpenny, there's no goose so 
 grey in the lake, that cannot find a gander for her 
 make f. 
 
 Luc. I love a nut-brown lass ; 'tis good to re- 
 create. 
 
 Half Thou meanest a brown nut is good to 
 crack. 
 
 * "Stanch," stop. 
 
 t " Make," mate, consoit. '
 
 A COMEDY. 245 
 
 Ltic. Why, would it not do thee good to crack 
 such a nut? 
 
 Half. I fear she is worm-eaten within, she is 
 so liioth-eaten without. 
 
 Rix. If you take your pleasure of me, I'll in 
 and tell your practices against your masters. 
 
 Half. In faith, sour heart, he that takes his 
 pleasure on thee is very pleasurable. 
 
 Rix. You mean knavishly* ; and yet I hope 
 foul water will quench hot fire as soon as fair. 
 
 Half. Well then let fair words cool that choler, 
 which foul words hath kindled : and because we 
 are all in this case, and hope all to have good 
 fortune, sing a roundelay, and we'll help; such 
 as thou wast wont when thou beatedst hemp f. 
 ^ Luc. It was crabs she stampt, and stole away 
 one to make her a face J. 
 
 Rix. I agree, in hope that the hemp shall come 
 to your wearing ; a halfpenny halter may hang 
 you both ; that, is, Halfpenny and you may hang 
 in a halter. ' 
 
 Half. Well brought al)Out. 
 
 Rixr*Tw'\\\ when 'tis about your neck. 
 
 * " Knavishly," wantonly. 
 
 t Persons confined for small offences in the house of correc- 
 tion, are employed in beating hemp. ' ^ 
 
 I It is evident from the foregoing psrt of the Scene, 'that 
 Rixula is very plain and hard-featured (as her name implies), and 
 probably had been punished as a scold. To understand the jest 
 of Lucio it should be obs^erved, that crab-apples are stamped or 
 pounded to make verjuice; and that the eating of them, from 
 their acidity, naturally produces some distortion of feature, 
 (whence probably the word crabbed). Lucio sup[)Oscs this was 
 her employment, and that she had stolen and eaten part of the 
 crabs she was pounding: the arch wench in h^ song repays 
 their jests with interest. 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 246 ' MOTHER bombie: 
 
 Lmc, Nay, now she's in she will never out 
 Rix. Nor when your heads are in, as it is 
 
 likely, they should not come out. But hearken 
 
 to my song. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Rix. Full hard I did sweat, ' -^ 
 
 When hemp I did beat. 
 Then thought I of nothing but hanging ; 
 The hemp being spun. 
 My beating was done ; 
 Then I wtsh'd for noise, 
 
 Hi 
 
 Of crack-halter boys, li iU 
 
 On those hempen strings to be twanging : , ,rj\^ 
 Long look'd I about, | d VV 
 
 The city throughout ; 
 The Men. And found no such fiddling varlets ; ^'^*' 
 
 Rix. Yes, at last coming hither, ^, .itn 
 
 I saw four together. ^_i ^ ^ 
 
 The Men. May thy hemp choak such singing harlots. . * * 
 . ^ j/ Rix. To whit, to whoo, the owl does cry ; 
 l^ ^ ^\.^ P1JP' Pl^'P' t^ sparrows as they fly ; '*'*''^* 
 Cifc-w^ ' ^ The goose does hiss, the duck cries quack, **J 
 
 w^ A rope the parrot, that holds tack. 
 
 The Men. The parrot and the rope be thine ; 
 
 Rix, The hanging yours, but the hemp mine. 
 
 Enter Dromio and Risio. ' * 
 
 Drom. Yonder stand the wags, I am Qome 
 in good time. ,,u^\\ 
 
 Mis. All here before me : you make haste. v\ 
 
 Rix. I believe to hanging; for I think you 
 have all robbed your masters, here's evQry m^ 
 his baggage. , // ,,. \\ 
 
 Half. That is, we are all with thee, for th^u 
 art a very baggage. .^j, 
 
 Rix. Hold thy peace, or on mine honesty ,^ 
 buy an halfpenny purse with thee.il ,
 
 A COMEDY. 247 
 
 Drom. Indeed, that's big enough to put thy 
 honesty in ; but come, shall we go about the 
 matter ? 
 
 Luc. Now it is come to the pinch my heart 
 pants. 
 
 Half. I for my part am resolute, in utrumque 
 paratMs, ready to die or run away. 
 
 Luc. But hear me; I was troubled with a vile 
 dream, and therefore it is little time spent to let 
 Mother Bombie expound it ; she is cunning in 
 all things. 
 
 Drom. Then will I know my fortune. 
 
 Rix. And I'll ask for a silver spoon, which 
 was lost last day, which I must pay for. 
 
 Ris, And I'll know what will become of our 
 devices. 
 
 Half. And I. 
 
 Drom. Then let us all go quickly ; we must 
 not sleep in this business, our masters are so 
 watchful about it. 
 
 \They knock at JBomhie's door. 
 
 Enter Mother Bombie. 
 
 Bom. Why do you rap so hard at the door-? S 
 
 Drom. Because we would come in. 
 
 Bom. Nay, my house is no inn. H 
 
 Half Cross yourselves, look how she looks : 
 Mark her not, she'll turn us all to apes. 
 
 Ham. What would you with me? 
 
 Ris. They say you are cunning, and are called 
 the good woman of Rochester. 
 
 Bom. If never to do harm be to do good/ ! 
 dare say I am not ill. But what's the matter? 
 
 T 2
 
 248 MOTHER bombie: 
 
 iec. I had an ill dream, and desire to know 
 the signification. 
 
 Bom. Dreams, my son, have their weight, 
 thougli they be of a troubled mind, yet are they 
 signs of fortune. Say on. 
 
 Luc. In the dawning of the day, for about that 
 time, by my starting out of my sleep, I found it to 
 be, methought I saw a stately piece of beef, with 
 a cape-cloak of cabbage, embroidered with pep- 
 per, having two honourable pages with hats of 
 mustard on their heads, himself in great pomp 
 sitting on a cushion of white brewish*, lined with 
 brown bread ; methought, being powdered, he 
 was much troubled with the salt rheum ; and 
 therefore there stood by him two great flagons of 
 wine and beer, the one to dry up his rheum, the 
 other to quench his choler : I, as one envying his 
 ambition, hungering and thirsting after his ho- 
 nour, began to pull his cushion from under him, 
 hoping by that means to give him a fall; and 
 with putting out my hand I awaked, and found 
 nothing in all this dream about me but the salt 
 rheum. H 
 
 JDrom. A dream for a butcher. 
 
 Luc. Soft, let me end it : then I slumbered 
 again, and methought there came in a leg of 
 mutton. '^ "'* 
 
 I>rom. What all gross meat ? a rack f had 
 been dainty. 
 
 * " Brewish," bread soaked in the liquor in which salt meat 
 has been boiled, sometimes used for the liquid only, as iu " The 
 Spanish Curate :" 
 
 Fcir me some forty pound of lovely beef 
 Placed in a Mediterranean sea of Br ems." 
 t " A rack," a neck of mutton.
 
 A COMEDY. 249 
 
 jLuc. Thou fool, how could it come in unless 
 it had been a leg ? Methought his hose were cut 
 and drawn out with parsley, I thrust my hand 
 into my pocket for a knife, thinking to hox * him, 
 and so awak'd. 
 
 JBom. Belike thou wentst supperless to bed. 
 
 Lite. So I do every night but Sundays. Prisius 
 hath a weak stomach, and therefore we must 
 starve. 
 
 Som. Well, take this for answer, though the 
 dream be fantastical : 
 
 They that in the morning's sleep dream of eating, 
 
 Are in danger of sickness or of beating, 
 
 Or shall hear of a wedding fresh a beatingf. 
 
 Luc. This may be true. 
 
 Half. Nay, then, let me come in with a dream, 
 short but sweet, that my mouth waters ever since 
 I waked. Methought there saj; upon a shelf three 
 damask prunes in velvet caps, and prest satin 
 gowns like judges; and that there were a whole 
 handful of currants to be arraigned of riot, be- 
 cause they clung together in such clusters ; 
 twelve raisons of the sun were impannelled in a 
 jury ; and as a leaf of whole mace, which was 
 bailiff, was carrying the quest to consult, me- 
 thought there came an angry cook, and gelded 
 the jury of their stones, and swept both judges 
 
 * " To hox." I conceive this means to hamstring him. 
 
 t " Fresh a beating." I can but guess at the meaning here. 
 When a woman is breeding, she is, in Yorkshire, said to be 
 beating with child; breeding and beating having here the same 
 meaning, and as we still say, upon occasion, there is mischief 
 breeding, may not the text mean there is a marriage breeding, 
 or, in other words, a marriage on foot 1 If this conjecture be 
 erroneous, possibly we may read, " or a fresh beating."
 
 250 MOTHER rombie: 
 
 and jurors, rebels and bailiff, into a porridge pot; 
 whereat I being melancholy, fetched a deep sigh, 
 that waked mySelf and my bed-fellow. 
 
 Boin. This was devised, not dreamt ; and the 
 more foolish being no dream, for that dreams ex- 
 cuse tlie fantasticalness. 
 
 Half. Then ask my bed-fellow, you know him, 
 who dreamt that night that the king of diamonds 
 was sick. 
 
 Bom. But thy years and humours, pretty child, 
 are subject to such fancies, which the more vin- 
 cible they seem the more fantastical they are*; 
 therefore this dream is easy. 
 
 To children this is given from the gods, 
 
 To dream of milk, fruit, babies and rods, 
 
 They betoken nothing but that wantons must 
 have rods. 
 
 Drom. Ten to one thy dream is true ; thou 
 wilt be swinged. 
 
 Hix. Nay, gammer, I pray you tell me who 
 stole my spoon out of the buttiy. 
 
 JSom. Thy spoon is not stolen, but mislaid ; 
 Thou art an ill huswife, though a good maid ; 
 Look for thy spoon where thou hadst like to be 
 no maid. 
 
 Rix. Body of me let me fetch the spoon, I re- 
 member the place. 
 
 Luc. Soft, swift, the place if it be there now, 
 will be there to-morrow. 
 
 Rix. Ah ! but perhaps the spoon will not. 
 
 Half. Wert thou once put to it ? 
 
 * To reverse this would make it more plain, it would then 
 read, " the more fantastical they seem, the more vincible they 
 are." ^
 
 A COMEDY. ^1 
 
 Bix. No, sir boy, it was put to me. 
 
 Luc. How was it mist? v,.^,< i , ,,( 
 
 Drom. I'll warrant for want t)f a mist. But ' 
 what's my fortune, mother? 
 
 Bom. Thy father doth live because he doth dye, 
 
 Thou hast spent all thy thrift with a die, 
 
 And so like a beggar thou shalt die. 
 
 Ris. Ah ! I would have liked well if all <;lie 
 gerunds had been there, di, do, and dum ; but all 
 in die, that's too -deadly. 
 
 Drom. My father, indeed, is a dyer, and I have 
 been a dicer; but to die a beggar, give me leave 
 not to believe Mother Bombie ; and yet it may 
 be. I have nothing to live by but by knavery ; 
 and if the world grow honest, welcome beggary. 
 But what hast thou to say, Risio ? 
 
 Ris. Nothing, 'till I see whether all this be 
 true that she hath said. 
 
 Half. Ah ! Risio would fain see thee beg. 
 
 Ris. Nay, mother, tell us this ; what is all our 
 fortunes ? We are about a matter of legerdemain; 
 how will it fadge ? 
 
 Bom. You shall all thrive like cozeners; 
 
 That is, to be cozened by cozeners : 
 
 All shall end well, and you be found cozeners. 
 
 Drom. Gramercy, Mother Bombie, we are all 
 pleased, if you were for your pains. 
 
 Bom. I take no money, but good words ; rail 
 not if I tell true ; if I do not, revenge. Farewell. 
 
 [JExit Bombie. 
 
 Drom. Now have we nothing to do but go 
 about this business. Accius' apparel let Candius 
 put on, and I will array Accius with Candius' 
 clothes.
 
 252 MOTHER BOMBIE : 
 
 Ris. Here is Silena's attire; Lucio, put it 
 upon Livia, and give me Livia's for Silena : this 
 done, let Candius and Livia come forth ; and let 
 Dromio and me alone for the rest. 
 
 Half. What shall become of Accius and Si- 
 lena? " 
 
 Drom. Tush, tTieir turn shall be next ; all must 
 be done orderly ; let's to it, for now it works. 
 
 [Exeunt.
 
 A COMEDY. 263 
 
 ACT IV. Scene I. 
 
 Enter Candius and Livia. 
 
 Liiv. This attire is very fit : but how if this 
 make me a fool and Silena wise, you will then 
 woo me', and wed her. 
 
 Cand. Thou knowest that Accius is also a 
 fool, and his raiment fits me : so that if apparel 
 be infectious, I am also like to be a fool ; and he 
 wise, what would be the conclusion I marvel ? 
 
 Enter Dromio and Risio. 
 
 Liv. Here come our, counsellors. 
 
 Drom. Well said, I perceive turtles fly in 
 couples. 
 
 Ris. Else how should they couple ? 
 
 Eiv. So do knaves go double, else how should 
 they be so cunning in doubling? 
 
 Cand. Eona verha^ Livia. 
 
 Drom. I understand Latin ; that is, Livia is a 
 good word. 
 
 Cand. No, I bid her use good words. 
 
 Ris. And what deeds? 
 
 Cand. None but a deed of gift; 
 
 Ris. What gift. 
 
 Cand. Her heart. 
 
 Drom. Give me leave to pose yoij though 
 you be a graduate; for I tell you, we, in Ro- 
 chester, spur so many hacknies, that we must 
 needs spur scholars, for we take them for hack- 
 nies.
 
 '2h4 310TUEK bombie: 
 
 Liv. Why so, sir boy ? 
 
 Droni. Because I knew two hired for ten groats 
 a piece to say service on Sunday, and that's no 
 more than a post horse from here to Canterbury. 
 
 Ris. He knows what he says, for he once 
 served the post-master. 
 
 Cand. Indeed I think he served some post to 
 his master ; but come, Dromio, post me. 
 
 Drom. You say you would have her heart for 
 a deed. 
 
 Cand. Wdl. 
 
 Drom. If you take her heart for cor, that heart 
 in her body; then know this: molle ejus levi- 
 hus, cor est violahile telis: a woman's heart is 
 thrust through with a feather: if you mean she 
 should give a heart named cervus, then are you 
 worse; for cornua cervus habet; that is, to have 
 one's heart grow out at his head, which will 
 made one ake at the heart in their body. 
 
 *^^' Enter Prisius and Sperantus. 
 
 Liv, Ah ! beshrew your hearts, I hear one 
 coming, I know it is my father by his coughing. 
 
 Cand. What must we do ? 
 
 Drom. Why, as I told you ; and let me alone 
 with the old men, fall you to your bridall. 
 
 Pris. Come,, neighbour, I perceive the love of 
 our children waxeth cold. 
 
 tSper. I think it never was but lukewarm. 
 
 Pris. Bavins will have their flashes, and youth 
 their fancies, the one as soon quenched as the 
 other burnt; but who be these? 
 
 Cand. Here I do plight my faith, taking thee 
 for the staff of my age, and of my youth my so- 
 lace. ^
 
 A COMEDY. 255 
 
 Liv. And I vow to thee affection, which no- 
 thing can dissolve ; neither the length of time, 
 nor malice of fortune, nor distance of place. 
 
 Cand. But when shall we be married ? 
 
 JLiv. A good question ; for that one delay in 
 wedding bringeth an hundred dangers: in the 
 church we will not be asked, and a licence is 
 too chargeable, and to tarry till to-morrow too 
 tedious *. 
 
 Drom. There's a girl stands on pricks till she 
 be married. 
 
 Cand. To avoid danger, charge, and tedious- 
 ness, let us now conclude it in the next church. 
 
 Liv, Agreed. 
 
 Pris. What be these thg^t hasten so to marry ? 
 
 Drom. Marry sir, Accius, son to Memphio, 
 and Silena, Stellio's daughter. 
 
 Sper. I am sorry, neighbour, for our purposes 
 are disappointed. 
 
 Pris. You see marriage is destiny, made in 
 heaven though consummated on earth. 
 
 Ris. How like you them ; be they not a pretty 
 couple ? 
 
 Pris. Yes ; God give them joy, seeing in spite 
 of our hearts they must join. 
 
 * To understand how Candius and Livia could lawfully be 
 married at all, we must recollect that the canon, which for- 
 bids any minister to celebrate matrimony without a licence, or 
 the publication of banns, was not enacted till the year 1603, 
 several years after this play was written. The marriages in 
 Green's " Tu Quoque," and that of Isabella and Francisco, in 
 " Wit without Money," of Beaumont and Fletcher, are celebrated 
 at a very early hour, i. e. about five in the morning (and the 
 latter by torch light), and no licence or banns seem to have been 
 thought necessary in either.
 
 256 MOTHER BOMB IE : 
 
 Drom. I am sure you are not angry, seeing 
 things past cannot be recalled ; and being wit- 
 nesses to their contract, will be also well-willers 
 to the match. 
 
 Sper. For my part, I wish them well. 
 
 Pris. And I ; and since there is no remedy, 
 I am glad of it. 
 
 Droiii. But will you never hereafter take it in 
 dudgeon, but use them as though yourselves had 
 made the marriage. 
 
 Pris. Not I. 
 
 Sper. Nor I. 
 
 Drom. Sir, here two old men are glad that 
 your loves, so long continued, are so happily con- 
 cluded. 
 
 Cand. We thank them, and if they will come 
 to Memphio's house, they shall take part of a 
 hard dinner. This cottons * and works like wax 
 in a sow 's ear. Exeunt Cand. and Liv. 
 
 Pris. Well, seeing our purposes are prevented, 
 we must lay plots ; for Livia shall hot have Can- 
 dius. 
 
 Sper. Fear not, for I have sworn that Candius 
 shall not have Livia. But let not us fall out 
 because our children fall in. 
 
 Pris. Wilt thou go soon to Memphio's house ? 
 
 Sper. Aye; and if you will let us, that we 
 may see how the young couple bride it, and so 
 we may teach our own. {^Exeunt. 
 
 
 
 * " Cottons/' succeeds, works. 

 
 A COMEDY. -257 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Enter Lucio and Halfpenny. 
 
 Luc. By this time I am sure the wags have 
 played their parts ; there rests nothing now for 
 us but to match Accius and Silena. 
 
 Half. It would be too good to be true ; for we 
 should laugh heartily, and without laughing my 
 spleen would split : but whist*, here comes the 
 man. 
 
 Enter Accius. 
 And yonder the maid, let us stand aside. 
 
 Enter Silena. j^ 
 
 Ace. What means my father to thrust me forth 
 in another boy's coat? I'll warrant 'tis to as 
 much purpose as a hem in the forehead. 
 
 Half. There was an ancient proverb knocked 
 in the head. 
 
 Ace. I am almost come into my nonage, and 
 yet I never was so far as the proverbs of this 
 city. 
 
 Liv. There's a quip for the suburbs of Ro- 
 chester. 
 
 Half. Excellently applied. 1^ 
 
 *S'i7. Well, though this furniture make me ft 
 sullen dame, yet I hope in mine own I am no 
 saint. 
 
 Half A brave fight is like to be between a 
 cock with a long comb and a hen with a long 
 leg. 
 
 * " Whist," silence.
 
 258 MOTHER bombie: 
 
 Luc. Nay, her wits are shorter than her legs. 
 
 Half. And his comb longer than his wit. 
 
 Ace. I have yonder uncovered a fair girl, I'll 
 be so bold as spur her; what might a body call 
 her name ? 
 
 Sil. I cannot help you at this time, I pray you 
 come again to-morrow. 
 
 Half. Ah ! marry, sir. 
 
 Ace. You need not be so lusty, you are not so 
 honest. 
 
 Sil. I cry you mercy, I took you for a joint- 
 stool *. 
 
 Luc. Here's courting for a conduit or a bake- 
 housef. I 
 
 Sil. But what are you for a man ? Methinks 
 you look as pleaseth God. 
 
 Ace. What, do you give me the boots J ? 
 
 Half. Whither will they ? Here be right cobler's 
 
 cuts. l; 
 
 Ace. I am taken with a fit of love : have you 
 any mind of marriage? 
 Sil. I had thought to have ask't you. 
 Ace. Upon what acquaintance ? 
 
 * " I took you for a joint stool." This line, which is also to be 
 found in the Lear of Shakspeare, is a proverbial expression, as 
 has been remarked by Stevens. 
 
 t " Here's courting for a conduit or a bak^ouse ;" t. e. suited 
 to a conduit, &c. It must be remembered, that in the time of 
 onr poet, the lower classes of people fetched the water in pails 
 and other vessels from the conduits, and consequently a consi- 
 derable assemblage of both sexes was frequently to be seen at 
 such places ; Lucio imagines that the courtship of two of these 
 water-bearers probably resembled that of Accius and Silena. 
 
 X To give the boots, it is almost unnecessary to say, was to 
 inflict a species of torture ; but, in a dialogue like this, it is dif- 
 ticiilt to affix any precise meaning to expressions, purposely said 
 at random.
 
 A COMEDY. 2oJ> 
 
 Sil. Who would have thought it ? 
 
 Ace. Much in my gascoyns*, more in my round 
 house ; all my fathers were as white as daisies, 
 as an egg full of meat. 
 
 Sil. And all my father's plate is made of crim- 
 son velvet ^ 
 
 Ace. That's brave with bread. 
 
 Half. These two had wise men to their fa- 
 thers. 
 
 L,ue. Why? 
 
 Half. Because when their bodies were at work 
 about household stuff, their minds were busied 
 about commonwealth matters. 
 
 Ace. This is pure lawn : what call you this, a 
 pretty face to your heir? 
 
 Sil. Wisely you have picked a raison out of a 
 frail of figs. 
 
 Ace. Take it as you list, you are in your owto 
 clothes. 
 
 Sil. Saving a reverence, that's a lie : my clothes 
 are better, my father borrowed these. 
 
 Ace. Long may he so do ; I can tell that these 
 are not mine, if I would blab it like a woman. 
 
 Sil. I had as leave you should tell them it 
 snowed. 
 
 Luc. Come, let us take them oft', for we have 
 had the cream of them. 
 
 Half I'll warrant if this be the cream, the 
 milk is very flat ; let us join issue with them. 
 
 Luc. To have such issue of our bodies, is 
 worse than have an issue in the body. God sav^^ 
 you, pretty mouse. 
 
 * " Gascoyns," breeches ; usually written galligaskins.
 
 2G0 MOTHER BOWUIE : 
 
 Sil. You may command and go. without. 
 
 Half. There's glick* for you; let me have my 
 girdt; <^>n thy conscience tell me what it is 
 o'clock? 
 
 Sil. I cry you mercy, I have killed your 
 cushion. * 
 
 Hal/. I am paid and struck dead in the nest. 
 I am sure this soft youth, who is not half so wise 
 ^s you are fair, nor you altogether so fair as he 
 is foolish, will not be so captious. 
 
 Ace. Your eloquence passes my recognizance.. 
 
 Enter Memphio a7id Stellio. * 
 
 Luc. I never heard that before; but shall we 
 two make a match between you ? 
 
 Sil. I'll know first who was his father. 
 
 Ace. My father; what need you to care? I 
 hope he was none of yours. , 
 
 Half. A hard question, for it is odds oulf oiie 
 begat them both ; he that cut out the upper 
 leather, cut out the inner, and so with one awl 
 stitched two soles together. 
 
 Mem. What is she? 
 
 ir//: 'Tis Prisius' daughter. ^* 
 
 Mem. In good time ; it fadges. 
 
 Stel. What is he? 
 
 Luc. Sperantus' son. * ' 
 
 Stel. So 'twill cotten. 
 
 Ace. Damsel, I pray you how old are you ? 
 
 Mem. My son would scarce have asked such 
 a foolish question. 
 
 * " GUck," to gibe, to banter. 
 
 t " Let me have my gird ;" i. e. let me see wbat, sort of ,a j-frr 
 tjort she c^n find in answer to my question. ,y^ y^ mrM -
 
 A COMEDY. 261 
 
 Sil. I shall be eighteen next bear-baiting. 
 
 Stel, My daughter would have made a wiser 
 answer. 
 
 Half. Oh, how fitly this comes off. 
 
 Ace. My father is a scold, what's yours? 
 
 Mem. My heart throbs, I look him in the face, 
 and yonder I espy Stellio. 
 
 Stel. My mind misgives me ; but whist, yon- 
 der is Memphio. 
 
 Ace. In faith I perceive, an old saw and a 
 rusty, no fool to the old fool *. I pray you, where- 
 fore was I thrust out like a scarecrow in this si- 
 militude? 
 
 Mem. My son, and I ashamed ! Dromio shall 
 die. 
 
 Sil. Father, are you sneaking behind ; I pray 
 you what must I do next? 
 
 Stel. My daughter! Risio, thou hast cozenedme. 
 
 Luc. JNow begins the game. 
 
 Mem. How came you hither? 
 
 Ace. Marry, by the way from your house 
 hither. 
 
 Mem. How chance in this attire? 
 
 Ace. How chance? Dromio bid me. 
 
 3Iem. Ah ! my son will be begg'd for a con- 
 cealed fool f. 
 
 * " In faith I perceive an old saw and a ri{sti/, no fool to the 
 old fool:" in other words, I now perceive the truth of an old 
 and almost stale proverbial saying, " there is no fool to be com- 
 pared to an old fool." This is somewhat out of character from 
 Accius, and might be given with good point to Halfpenny, the 
 continuation of the speech remaining with its present claimant. 
 
 t " My son will be begg'd for a concealed fool." Since the 
 first part of this work has been printed, a friend in whose judg- 
 ment I place the greatest reliance has suggested to me an ex- 
 VOL. I. U
 
 202 MOTHER bombie: 
 
 Ace, Will I? iTaith, sir, no. 
 
 Stet. Wherefore came you hither, Silena, with- 
 out leave? 
 
 Sil. Because I did, and I am here because I 
 came. 
 
 Stel. Poor wench, thy wit is improved to the 
 uttermost. 
 
 Half. Ah ! 'tis a hard matter to have a wit of 
 the old rent, every one racks his commons so 
 high. 
 
 Mem. Dromio told me that one should meet 
 Stellio's daughter, and court her in person of my 
 son, and plead in place of my daughter; but, 
 alas ! I see my son hath met with Silena himself, 
 and bewraid his folly. 
 
 Siel. But I see my daughter hath prattled with 
 Accius^ and discovered her simplicity. 
 
 Lue. A brave cry, to hear the two old mules 
 to weep over the young fools. '^ 
 
 Mem. Accius, how likest thou Silena? 
 
 Ace. I take her to be repugnant. 
 
 Sil. Truly his talk is very personable. 
 
 Stel. Come in, girl, this geer must be fetched 
 about. 
 
 Mem. Come, Accius, let us go in. 
 
 Luc. Nay, sir, there's no harm done; they 
 have neither bought nor sold; they maybe twins 
 for their wits and years. , 
 
 plaiiatioii for a preceding speech of Dromio's, page 204, " I'll 
 beg him for a fool," which will also explain this: the meaning 
 there is, Fll endeavour to obtain from the crown a grant for the 
 custody of his person, and the care and management of his estate, 
 as being an idiot : this, though not clear, will be found correct 
 on a careful examination of the preceding speech of Memphio's.
 
 A COMEDY. 263 
 
 Mem. But why didst thou tell me it was Pri- 
 sius' son ? 
 
 Half. Because I thought thee a fool to ask . 
 who thine own son was. 
 
 Luc. And so, sir, for your daughter educa- 
 tion hath done much ; otherwise they are by na^ 
 ture soft witted enough. 
 
 Mem. Alas ! their joints are not yet tied, they 
 are not yet come to years and discretion. 
 
 Ace. Father, if my hands be tied, shall I grow 
 
 Half. Aye, and Silena too, if you tie them fast 
 to your tongues. 
 
 - Sil. You may take your pleasure of my tongue, 
 for it is no man's wife. 
 
 Mem. Come in, Accius. 
 
 Stel. Come in, Silena, I will talk with Mem- 
 phio's son ; but as for Risio 
 
 Mem. As for Dromio 
 
 [Exeunt Mem. Ace. Stel. and Sil, 
 
 Half. Ass for you all four. 
 
 Enter Dromio and Risio. 
 
 Drom. How goes the world now we have 
 made all sure; Candius and Li via are married, 
 their fathers consenting yet not knowing. 
 
 Luc. We have flat marred all ; Accius and 
 Silena courted one another ; their fathers took 
 f, them najiping ; both are ashamed, and you both 
 shall be swinged. 
 
 [lyRis. Tush, let us alone ; we will persuade 
 them that all falls out for the best ; for if I under- 
 stand, if this match had been concluded, they 
 both had been cozened ; and now, seeing they find 
 
 u2
 
 204 MOTHER BOMBIE : 
 
 both to be fools, tliey may be both better advised. 
 But why is Halfpenny so sad? 
 
 Enter Hackneyman and Serjeant. 
 
 Half. Because I am sure I shall never be a 
 penny. 
 
 Ris. Rather pray there be no fall of money, 
 for thou wilt then go for a ^ *. 
 
 Drom. But did not the two fools currently 
 court one another. 
 
 Luc. Very good words, fitly applied, brought 
 in the nick. 
 
 Serj. I arrest you. 
 
 Drom. Me, sir! why then didst not bring a 
 stool with thee that I might sit down? 
 
 Hack. He arrests you at my suit for a horse. 
 
 Ris. The more ass he ; if he had arrested a 
 mare instead of a horse it had been a slight over- 
 sight ; but to arrest a man that hath no likeness 
 of a horse is flat lunacy or alecyf. 
 
 Hack. Tush, I hired him a horse. 
 
 Drom. I swear then he was well ridden. 
 
 Hack. I think in two days he was never 
 baited. 
 
 Half. Why was it a bear thou ridest on ? 
 
 Hack. I mean he never gave him bait. 
 
 Luc. Why he took him for no fish. 
 
 Hack. I mistake none of you when I take you 
 for fools : I say thou never gavest my horse 
 meat. 
 
 Drom. Yes, in four-and-twenty hours I am 
 sure he had a bottle of hay as big as his belly. 
 
 * " Go for a q," i. e. for a farthing. 
 
 t " Alecy," madness produced by drinking ale to excess.
 
 A COMEDY. 265 
 
 Serj. Nothing else ? Thou shouldest have given 
 him provender. 
 
 Ris. Why, he never asked any. 
 
 Hack. Why, dost thou think a horse can 
 speak ? 
 
 Drom. No ; for I spurred him till my heels 
 ached, and he said never a word. 
 vj. Hack. Well, thou shalt pay sweetly for spoil- 
 ing him : it was as lusty a nag as any in Rochester, 
 and one that would stand upon no ground *. 
 
 Drom. Then he is as good as ever he was ; 
 I'll warrant he'll do nothing but lie down. 
 
 Hack. I lent him thee gently f . 
 
 Drom. And I restored him so gently, that he 
 neither would cry wyhie J, nor wag the tail. 
 
 Hack. But why didst thou bore him through 
 the ears ? 
 
 Luc. It may be he was set on the pillory, be- 
 cause he had not a true pace. 
 
 Half. No, it was for tiring. 
 
 Hack. He would never tire; it may be he would 
 be so weary, he would go no further, or so. 
 
 Drom. Yes, he was a notable horse for ser- 
 vice, he would tire and retire. 
 
 Hack. Do you think I'll be jested out of my 
 horse? Serjeant, wreak thine office on him. 
 
 Ris. Nay, let him be bailed. 
 
 Hack. So he shall when I make him a bargain. 
 
 Drom. It was a very good horse I must needs 
 confess ; and now hearken of his qualities, and 
 
 * I believe the meaning to be, " he was too full of mettle to 
 stand still." 
 + Perhaps gentlemanly, not as a dealer. 
 X " Wyhie," neigh.
 
 266 MOTHER bombie: 
 
 have patience to hear them, since I must pay for 
 him. He would stumble three hours in one 
 mile ; I had thought 1 had rode upon addices 
 between this and Canterbury : if one gave him 
 water, why he would lie down and bathe himself 
 like a hawk ; if one ran him, he would simper 
 and mump as though he had gone a wooing to a 
 malt-mare at Rochester ; he trotted before and 
 ambled behind ; and was so obedient, that he 
 would do duty every minute on his knees, as 
 though every stone had been his father. 
 
 Hack. I am sure he had no diseases. 
 
 Drom. A little rheum or pose * ; he lacked no- 
 thing but a handkerchief. 
 
 Serj. Come, what a tale of a horse have we 
 here. I cannot stay, thou must with me to pri- 
 son. 
 
 Luc. If thou be a good hackneyman, take all 
 our four bonds for the payment ; thou knowest 
 we are town-born children, and will not shrink 
 the city for a pelting jade. 
 
 Half. I'll enter into a statute merchant f to see 
 
 - >"V u Pose," " catarrh, or defluxion obstructing the voice." 
 
 " He speketh in his nose. 
 
 And sneseth fast, and eke he hath the pose." 
 
 '^vat'lc^tfthn,- THE MANCIPLES PROLOGUE. 
 
 " He speketh thrugh the nose, 
 
 As he were on the quakke, or on the pose." 
 
 THE REVE'S TALE. 
 
 Seward has a note to the above effect on its occurrence, in 
 *' Tlie Chances" of Beaumont and Fletcher. It is used also (as 
 has been remarked) by HoUinshed, who tells us, that the pose 
 is a distemper, which was rarely known in England till chimneys 
 were introduced ; which was not long before his time. Dromio 
 insinuates that the horse had the glanders. 
 
 t " Statute merchaut :" It was a species of security, I believe.
 
 A COMEDY. 267 
 
 it answered. But if thou wilt have bonds, thou 
 shalt have a bushel full. 
 
 Hack. Alas, poor ant, thou bound in a statute 
 merchant! a brown thread will bind thee fast 
 enough ; but, if you will be content all four jointly 
 to enter into bond, I will withdraw the action. 
 
 Drom. Yes, I'll warrant they will. How say you? 
 
 Half. I yield. 
 
 Ris. And I. 
 
 Luc. And I. 
 
 Hack. Well, call the Scrivener. 
 
 Serj. Here's one hard by ; I'll call him. 
 
 [He knocks at a door'. 
 
 Ris. A scrivener's shop hangs to a Serjeant's 
 mace, like a burr to a freeze coat. 
 
 Scri. What's the matter ? 
 
 Hack. You must take a note ot'a bond. 
 
 Drom. Nay, a pint of courtesy pulls on a pot 
 of wine ; in this tavern we'll dispatch. 
 
 Hack. Agreed. \ Exeunt all hut Risio. 
 
 Ris. Now if our wits be not in the wane, our 
 knavery shall be at the full ; we will ride them 
 worse than Dromio rid his horse ; for if the wine 
 master their wits, you shall see them bleed their 
 follies. \_Exit. 
 
 differing from the mortgage, in that the estate which was pledged 
 was retained by the creditor till the debt was liquidated by the 
 profits.
 
 2)81$ MOTHER bombie: 
 
 ACT V. Scene!. 
 Dromio, Risio, Lucio, and Halfpenny. 
 
 Drom. Every fox to his hole, the hounds are 
 at hand. 
 
 JRis. The Serjeant's mace lies at pawn for the 
 reckoning, and he under the board to cast it up. 
 
 Luc. The Scrivener cannot keep his pen out 
 of the pot, every goblet is an inkhorn. 
 
 Half'. The Hackneyman he whisks his wand, 
 as if the tavern were his stable, and all the ser- 
 vants his horses ; " tost there up, hay Richard ,*" 
 and white loaves are horse-bread in his eyes. 
 
 Drom. It is well I have my acquittance, and 
 he such bonds as shall do him no more good 
 than the bond of a faggot ; our knaveries are 
 now come to the push, and we must cunningly 
 dispatch all : we two will go see how we may 
 appease our masters ; you two how you may con- 
 ceal your late marriage ; if all fall out amiss, the 
 worst is beating; if to the best, the worst is liberty. 
 
 Ris. Then let's about it speedily, for so many 
 irons in the fire together require a diligent plum- 
 ber. [^Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. 
 ViciNA and Bombie. 
 
 Vic. My heart throbs, my ears tingle, my mind 
 misgives me since I hear some muttering of mar-
 
 A COMEDY. 269 
 
 riages in Rochester ; my conscience, which these 
 eighteen years has been frozen with this con- 
 cealed guiltiness, begins now to thaw in open 
 grief; but I will not accuse myself till I see 
 more danger; the good old woman, Mother 
 Bombie, shall try her cunning upon me, and if I 
 perceive my case is desperate by her, then will 
 I rather prevent, although with shame, than re- 
 port too late and be inexcusable. God speed, 
 good Mother. 
 
 Bom, Welcome, sister. 
 
 Vic. I am troubled in the night with dreams, 
 and in the day with fears ; mine estate bare, 
 which I cannot well bear, but my practices devilish, 
 which I cannot recall ; if, therefore, in these same 
 years there be any deep skill, tell me what my 
 fortune shall be, and what my fault is. 
 Bom. In studying to be over natural. 
 
 Thou art like to be unnatural, 
 
 And all about natural * ; 
 
 Thou shalt be eased of a charge, 
 
 If thou thy conscience discharge ; 
 
 And this I commit to thy charge. 
 Vic. Thou hast touched me to the quick, mo- 
 ther ; I understand thy meaning, and thou well 
 knowest my practice. I will follow thy counsel. 
 But what will be the end ? 
 
 Bom. Thou shalt know before this day end. 
 Farewell. [Exit Bomhie. 
 
 Vic. Now I perceive I must either bewray a 
 mischief, or suffer a continual inconvenience; I 
 must haste homewards and resolve to make all 
 
 * " Aud all about natural :" t. e. about children who are 
 idiots.
 
 170 MOTHER BOMBtE *. 
 
 whole: better a little shame than an infinite ^ 
 grief; the strangeness will abate the fault, and 
 the bewraying wipe it clean away. [Exit. 
 
 Scene III. 
 Synis, Nasutus, Bedunenus, three Fiddlers. 
 
 " Si/n. Come, fellows, *tis almost day : let us 
 have a fit of mirth at Sperantus' door, and give a 
 song to the bride. 
 
 Nas. I believe they are asleep, it were pity to 
 awake them. 
 
 Sed. 'Twere a shame they should sleep the 
 first night. 
 
 S^n. But who can tell at which house they 
 lie ; at Prisius' it may be, we'll try both. 
 
 Nas. Come, let's draw like men. 
 
 Syn. Now, tune ; tune, I say ; that boy 1 think 
 will never profit in his faculty, he loses his 
 rosin, that his fiddle goes cush, cush, like as one 
 should go wetshod; and his mouth so dry that 
 he hath not spittle for his pin as I have. 
 
 Sed. Marry, sir, you see I go wetshod and 
 dry mouthed, for yet could I never get new shoes 
 or good drink : rather than I'll lead this life, I'll 
 throw my fiddle into the leads for a hobler. 
 
 Si/n. Boy, no more words, there is time for all 
 things ; though I say it, that should not say it, I 
 have been a minstrel these thirty years, and 
 tickled more strings than thou hast hairs, but 
 yet was never so misused. 
 
 Nas. Let us not brabble but play, to-morrow 
 is a new day.
 
 A COMEDY. 27\ 
 
 Bed. I am sorry I speak in your cast, what 
 shall we sing ? 
 
 S^n. The love knot, for that's best for a bridal. 
 Sing. 
 
 Nas. Good morrow, fair bride, and send you 
 joy of your bridal. [Sperantus looks out. 
 
 Sper. What a mischief makes the twangers 
 here ? we have no trenchers to scrape ; it makes 
 my teeth on edge to hear such grating. Get you 
 packing, or I'll make you wear double stocks *, 
 and yet you shall be never the warmer. 
 
 Syn. We come for good will to bid the bride 
 and bridegroom ; God give them joy. 
 
 Sper. Here's no wedding. 
 
 Syn. Yes, your son and Prisius' daughter were 
 married ; though you seem strange, yet they re- 
 pent it not, I am sure. 
 
 Sper. My son, villain ! I had rather he wer6 
 fairly hanged. 
 
 Nas. So he is, sir, you have your wish. 
 
 / Enter Candius. 
 
 Cand. Here, fiddlers, take this, and not a word ; 
 here is no wedding ; it was at Memphio's house ; 
 yet, gramercy, your music though it mist the 
 house, hit the mind, we were a preparing our 
 wedding gear. 
 
 Syn. I cry you mercy, sir, I think it was 
 Memphio's son that was married. 
 
 Sper. Oho, the case is altered ; go thither then, 
 and be haltered for me. 
 
 * Id est, canse you to be set in the ^6clcs. 
 
 Vi /
 
 272 MOTHER BOMBIE : 
 
 Nas. What's the alms ? 
 
 Si/n. An angel. 
 
 Sed. I'll warrant there's some work towards ; 
 ten shillings is money in master Mayor's purse. 
 
 S^n. Let us to Memphio's and share equally ; 
 when we have done all, thou shalt have new 
 shoes. 
 
 ^ Sed. Ah, such as they cry at the sizes, a mark 
 in issues, mark in issues, and yet I never saw so 
 much leather as would piece my shoes *. 
 
 Spi. No more, there's the money. 
 ,, Sed. A good handsell, and I think the maiden- 
 head of your liberality. 
 
 Nas. Come, here's the house, what shall we 
 sing ? 
 
 Si/n. You know Memphio is very rich and 
 wise, and therefore let us strike the gentle stroke, 
 and sing a catch. Sing. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 All three. The bride this night can catch no cold, 
 ' No cold ; the bridegroom's young, not old ; 
 
 Like ivy he her fast does hold. 
 
 1 Fid. And clips her, 
 
 2 Fid. And lips her, 
 
 3 Fid. And flips her too ; 
 
 All three. Then let them alone, they know what they do. 
 
 1 Fid. At laugh and lie down if they play. 
 
 2 Fid. What ass against the sport can bray ? 
 
 3 Fid. Such tick-tack has held many a day, 
 
 1 Fid. And longer, 
 
 2 Fid. And stronger, 
 
 Z Fid. It still holds too; 
 
 * I cannot with any thing like certainty explain this speech.
 
 A COMEDY. 273 
 
 ^11 three. Then let them alone, they know what they do. 
 This night. 
 In delight. 
 Does thump away sorrow ; 
 Of billing, 
 Take your filling, * 
 So good morrow, good morrow. 
 
 Nds. Good morrow, mistress bride, and send 
 you a huddle *. [Memphio looks out, 
 
 Mem. What crowding knaves have we there ; 
 case lip your fiddles, or the constable shall cage 
 you up. What bride talk you of? 
 
 Syn. Here's a wedding in Rochester, and 'twas 
 told me first that Sperantus' son had married 
 Prisius' daughter, we were there, and they sent 
 us to your worship, saying your son was matched 
 with Stellio's daughter. 
 
 Mem. Hath Sperantus, that churl, nothing to 
 do but mock with his neighbours : I'll be even 
 with him ; and get you gone, or I swear by the 
 rood's body |, I'll lay you by the heels. 
 
 Nas. Sing a catch, here's a fair catch indeed 
 sing till we catch cold on our feet, and be called 
 knaves till our ears glow on our heads; your 
 worship is wise, sir. 
 
 Mem. Dromio, shake oflf a whole kennel of 
 
 * " Huddle," a close embrace. 
 
 t " By the rood's body." It is observed by Heame, that, 
 " though the cross and the rood are commonly taken for the 
 same ; yet the rood, properly so called, signified formerly the 
 image of Christ upon the cross, so as to represent both the 
 cross and the figure of our blessed Saviour as he suffered upon 
 it." " T7ie rood," says Blount, " was an image of Christ on the 
 cross, made generally of wood, and erected in a loft for that pur- 
 pose, just over the passage from the church into the chancel."
 
 274 MOTHER bombie: 
 
 officers to punish these jarring tongues; I'll teach 
 them to stretch their dried sheep's guts at my 
 door, and to mock one that stands to be mayor. 
 
 Drom. I had thought they had been sticking 
 of pigs, I heard such a squeaking. I go, sir. 
 
 St/n. Let us be packing. I 
 
 Nas. Where is my scabbard, every one sheath 
 his science. 
 
 JBed. A botts on the shoemaker that made this 
 boot for my fiddle, 'tis too straight. 
 
 Si/n. No more words ; 'twill be thought they 
 were the four waits, and let them wring; as for 
 the wags that set us on work, we'll talk with 
 them. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Memphio and Dromio. 
 
 Drom. They be gone, sir. 
 
 Mem. If they had stayed, the stocks should 
 have stayed them. But, sirrah, what shall we 
 now do? 
 
 Drom. As I advise you, make a match; for 
 better one house be cumbered with two fools 
 than two. 
 
 Mem. 'Tis true ; for it being bruted * that each 
 of us have a fool, who will tender marriage to 
 any of them that is wise ; besides, fools are fortu- 
 nate, fools are fair, fools are honest. 
 
 Drom. Ah, sir, and more than that, fools are 
 not wise : a wise man is melancholy for moon- 
 shine in the water, careful building castles in the 
 air, and commonly hath a fool to his heir. 
 
 * " Bruted ;" i. c. commonly reported : it is generally wnritten 
 bruited.
 
 A COMEDY. 275 
 
 Mem. But what say est thou to thy dame's 
 chafing? 
 
 Drom. Nothing, but all her dishes are chafing- 
 dishes. 
 
 Mem. I would her tongue were in thy belly. 
 
 Drom. I had as lief have a raw neat's tongue 
 in my stomach. 
 
 Mem. Why? 
 
 Drom. Marry, if the clapper hung within an 
 inch of my heart, that makes mine ears burn a 
 quarter of a mile off, do you not think it would 
 beat my heart black and blue? 
 
 Mem. Well, patience is a virtue, but pinching 
 is worse than any vice ; I will break this matter 
 to Stellio, and if he be willing, this day shall be 
 their wedding. 
 
 Drom. Then this day shall be my liberty. 
 
 Mem. Aye, if Stellio's daughter had been wise, 
 and by thy means cozened of a fool. 
 
 Drom. Then, sir, I'll revolt and dash out the 
 brains of your devices. 
 
 Mem. Rather thou shalt be free. \^Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Sperantus, Halfpenny, Prisius, and 
 Lucio. 
 
 Sper. Boy, this smoke is token of some fire ; 
 I like not the look of it. Wherefore should these 
 minstrels dream of a marriage ? 
 
 Half. Alas, sir, they rustle into every place; 
 give credit to no such words. 
 
 Sper. I will to Prisius ; I cannot be quiet ; 
 and in good time I meet him. Good morrow, 
 neighbour.
 
 276 MOTHER BOMBIE : 
 
 Pris. I cast the morrow in thy face, and bid 
 good night to all neighbourhood. 
 
 Sper, This is your old trick, to pick one's 
 purse, and then to pick quarrels : I tell thee, 1 
 had rather thou shouldst rob my chest than em- 
 bezzle my son. Mvfti 'it#a iA^- 
 
 Pris. Thy son ! my daughter is seduced, for I 
 hear say she is married, and our boys can tell. 
 How sayest thou ; tell the truth, or I'll grind 
 thee to powder in my mill ; be they married f 
 LiUC. True it is they were both in a church* * * 
 Pris. That's no fault, the place is holy. ' ^ 
 Half. And there was with them a priest. ' ' 
 Sper. Why, what place fitter for a priest than 
 a church ? Af^n v(d^ ''^t u^^k^l- /mv l*ti V- "^n:^ 
 
 iLuc. And they took one another by the hand. 
 
 Pris. Tush, that's but common courtesy. 
 
 Half. And the priest spake many kind words. 
 
 Sper. That shewed he was no dumb minister. 
 But what said they ; didst thou hear any words 
 between them? ' * ^'"* 
 
 Luc. Faith there was a bargain during life, 
 and the clerk cried, God give them joy. 
 
 Pris. Villain, they be married. 
 
 ira//". Nay, I think not so. ''' '<i* 
 
 Sper. Yes, yes ; God give you joy iil a ^th^^r; 
 I'll quickly be resolved. Candius, come forth. ' 
 
 .... .'.n 
 
 Enter Candius. . ,^, ^^,jj ,^ ^^,,^j 
 
 Pris. And I'll be put out of donbt.' Li^a, 
 come forth. 
 
 Enter Livia. 
 
 Sper. The micher hangs down his head.
 
 A COMEDY. 277 
 
 Pris. The baggage begins to blush. 
 
 Half. Now begins the game. 
 
 Lmc. I believe it will be no game for us. 
 % Sper. Are you married, young master? 
 t^,jCa7id. I cannot deny it, it was done so lately. 
 - Spei\ But thou shalt repent it was done so 
 soon. 
 
 Pris. Then 'tis bootless to ask you, Livia. 
 
 JLiv. Ah, and needless to be angry. 
 
 Pris. It shall pass anger, thou shalt find it 
 rage. 
 
 JLiv. You gave your consent. 
 
 Pris. Impudent giglot*! was it not enough to 
 abuse me, but also to belie me ? 
 
 Cand. You, sir, agreed to this match. 
 h^per. Thou brazen face boy, thinkest thou by 
 learning to persuade me to that which thou 
 speakest. Where did I consent? when? what 
 fitness ? 
 
 -t Cand. In this place, yesterday, before Dromio 
 and Risio. 
 
 Pris. I remember we heard a contract between 
 Memphio's son and Stellio's daughter ; and that 
 our good wills being asked, which needed not, 
 we gave them, which booted not. 
 
 Qmd. 'Twas but the apparel of Accius and 
 Silena, we were the persons. 
 
 Pris. O villany not to be borne ! Wast thou 
 privy to this practice ? ^ ** 
 itiiZaiC. Id a manner.'<( 4hi 
 
 Pris. I'll pay thee after a manner. 
 
 * " Giglot," wanton. 
 VOL. I. X *^6
 
 l>f# MOTHER BOMBIE: 
 
 Sper. And you, oatmeal groat *, you w erfr ac- 
 quainted with this plot. i 
 
 Half. Accessary as it were. 
 
 Sper. Thou shalt be punished as principal : 
 here comes Memi)hio and Steliio, they belike 
 were privy, and all their Jieads were laid together 
 to grieve our hearts. 't^ 
 
 Enter Memphio, Stellio, Dromio and Ris^o. 
 
 Mem. Come, Stellio, the assurance may be 
 made to-morrow, and our children assured to-^ 
 day. 
 
 Stel. 'Let the conveyance run as we agreed. 
 
 Pris. You convey cleanly indeed, if cozenage 
 be clean dealing ; for in the apparel of your chil- 
 dren you have conveyed a matdi between ours, 
 which grieves us not a little. 'J <^ ' 
 
 Mem, Nay, in the apparel of ycfer children 
 you have discovered the folly of ours^ which 
 shames us overmuch. aI r <i^cfefo| >M; -. 1 1* m\niXp 
 
 Stel. But 'tis no matter, though they be fools 
 they are no beggars. 
 
 Sper. And though ours be disobedient, they be 
 no fools. ' mlif^^!l^ *: iritjpt 'rtf 
 
 Drom. So now they tune their pipes. ' Aij4^ 
 
 Ris. You shall hear sweet music between' a 
 hoarse raven and a screech owl. .. 
 
 * " Oatmeal groat." This is one of the many Jests on the dimi- 
 nutive size of Halfpenny : oats, when hulled and when the ends 
 ate cut off by a particular operation of the mill, are called groo/s 
 (mtore generally, perhaps, written grotts or grits). Halfpenny is 
 therefore compared not merely to a single grain of oats, but to it 
 when both ends are cut off. The word is used by Ramsey in 
 " The Gentle Shepherd."
 
 A COMEDY. ft7$ 
 
 Mem. Neighbours, let us not vary ; our boys 
 have played their cheering parts; I suspected no 
 less at the tavern, where our four knaves met 
 together. 
 
 Ris. If it were knavery for four to meet in a 
 tavern, your worships wot well there were other 
 four. 
 
 Stel. This villain calls us knaves by craft. 
 
 Luc. Nay, truly, I dare swear he used no 
 craft, but means plainly. 
 
 t Sper. This is worse; come, Halfpenny, tell 
 truth and scape the rod. ;,;;> 
 
 Half. As good confess here being tr^ist*, as at 
 home with my hose about my heels. 
 
 JDroni. Nay, I'll tell, for 'twill never become 
 thee to utter it. itTTjmtymn;^ iio/ n^^^ 
 
 Mem. Well, out with it. , hb ^rmny dniriw 
 
 Drom. Memphio had a fool to his son, which 
 Stellio knew not ; Stellio a fool to his daughter, 
 unknown to Memphio ; to cozen each other they 
 dealt with their boys for a match ; we met with 
 Lucio and Halfpenny, who told the love between 
 their master's children; the youth deeply iaJijOye, 
 the fathers unwilling to consent. ; , t r,^ 
 
 Ris. I'll take the tale by the end; then we 
 four met, which argued we were no mountains ; 
 and in a tavern we met, which argued we were 
 mortal ; and every one in his wine told his days 
 work, which was a sign we forgot not our busi- 
 ness ; and seeing all our masters troubled with 
 devices, we determined a little to trouble the 
 water before thev drank ; so that in the attire of 
 
 * Meaning, " here, whilst I am trusted, as at home when I 
 am trussed up for whipping."
 
 Ml MOTHER BOMBIE: 
 
 fOttf ichildren, our mastere wise children ^be- 
 wrayed their good natures, and in the garments 
 of our master's children yours made a marriage ; 
 this all stood upon us poor children and your 
 young children, to show that old folks may be 
 overtaken by children. 
 
 Pris. Here's children indeed, I'll never fori- 
 get it. ** 
 
 Mem. I will ; A ccius, come forth. ^^ 
 
 Stel. I forgive all ; Silena, come forth. ''^ 
 
 Sper. Neighbour, these things cannot be re- 
 called, therefore as good consent ; seeing in all 
 our purposes also we mist the mark, for they two 
 will match their children. 
 
 Pris. Well, of that more anon ; not so sud- 
 denly, lest our ungracious youths think we dare 
 do no other ; but in truth their loves stir up na- 
 ture in me. 
 
 Mem. Come, Accius, thou must be married 
 to Silena. How art thou minded? 
 
 Ace. What, for ever and ever? f 
 
 Mem. Aye, Accius; what else? 
 
 Ace. I shall never be able to abide it, it will 
 ^e so tedious. ^ 
 
 Stel. Silena, thou must be betrothed to Accius, 
 and love him for thy husband. 
 
 Sil. I had as leave have one of clouts. 
 
 Stel. Why, Silena? 
 
 Sil. Why, look how he looks. 
 
 Ace. If you will not, another will. 
 
 Sil. I thank you for mine old cap. 
 
 Ace. And if you be so lusty, lend me two 
 shillings, ^,,^uh.h^-i Wt.* > r
 
 A COMEDY. Q8f 
 
 Pris. We are happy, we mist the foolish 
 match. 
 
 Mem. Come, you shall presently be contracted. 
 
 Drom. Contract their wits no more, they be 
 shrunk close already. 
 
 Ace. Well, father, here's ray hand, strike the 
 bargain. 
 
 Sil. Must he lie with me ? 
 
 Stel. No, Silena, lie by thee. 
 
 Ace. I shall give her the humble-bee's kiss. 
 
 U Enter Vicina, MiESTius, and Serena. 
 
 iU'. 
 
 Vic. I forbid the banes *. 
 
 His. What, doest thou think them rats, and 
 fearest they should be poisoned r 
 
 3lem. You, Vicina? wherefore? 
 
 Vic. Hearken : About eighteen years ago^ 
 I nurst thee a son, Memphio, and thee a daughter, 
 Stellio. ,,. \^.^ ^ 
 
 iStel. 1 rue. 
 
 Mem. True. 
 . Vic. I had at that time two children 6t mine 
 own, and being poor, thought it better to change 
 them than kill them ; I imagined if by device t 
 could thrust my children into your houses, tjiey 
 would lie well brought up in their youtli, and 
 wisely provided for in their age ; nature wrought 
 with me, and when they were weaned^ I sent 
 home mine instead of yours, which hitherto you 
 have kept tenderly as yours : growing in years, I 
 found the children I kept at home to love dearly ; 
 
 * The play upon the word rendered it necessary to preserve 
 the old spelling.
 
 "282 MOTHER bombie: 
 
 at first like brother and sister, which I rejoiced 
 at ; but at length too forward in affection, which 
 although inwardly I could not mislike, yet 
 openly I seemed to disallow ; they increased in 
 their loving humours ; I ceased not to chastise 
 them for their loose demeanours : at last it came to 
 my ears that my son that was out with Memphio 
 was a fool, that my daughter with Stellio was 
 also unwise, and yet being brother and sister 
 there was a match in hammering betwixt them. 
 
 Mem. What monstrous tale is this ! 
 
 Stel. And I am sure incredible. 
 
 Sper. Let her end her discourse. 
 
 Ace. I'll never believe it. 
 
 Mem. Hold thy peace. > 
 
 Vic. My very bowels yearned within me, that 
 I should be author of such vile incest, and hin- 
 derance to lawful love : I went to the good wo- 
 man. Mother Bombie, to know the event of this 
 practice, who told me this day I might prevent 
 the danger, and upon submission escape the pu- 
 nishment : hither I am come to claim my chil- 
 dren, though both fools, and to deliver yours, 
 both living. 
 
 Mem. Is this possible? how shall we believe it? 
 
 Stel. It cannot sink into my head. 
 
 Vic. This trial cannot fail : your son, Memphio^ 
 had a mole under his ear ; I framed one under 
 my child's ear by art, you shall see it taken away 
 by the juice of mandrage; behold. Now for 
 your son's ; no herb can undo that nature hath 
 done. Your daughter, Stellio, hath on her wrist 
 a mole, which I counterfeited on my daughter's 
 arm, and that shall you see taken away as the
 
 A COMEDY. ' 28;> 
 
 other. Thus you see I do not dissemble, hoping 
 you will pardon me as 1 have pitied them. 
 
 Mem. This is my son; Oh, fortunate Mem- 
 phi o ! 
 
 Stel. This is my daughter ; more than thrice 
 happy Stellio ! 
 
 D M(ES. How happy is Mfestius, thou blessed, 
 Serena, that being neither children to poor pa- 
 rents, nor brother and sister by nature, may enjoy 
 our love by consent of parents and nature; * 
 
 Ace. Soft, ril not swap my father for all thfe. 
 
 Sil. What, do you think I'll be cozened of my 
 father? Methinks I should not. Mother Borabie 
 told me my father knew me not, my mother bore 
 me not, falsely bred, truly begot ; a botts on Mo- 
 ther Bombie. 
 
 Droni. Mother Bombie told us we should be 
 found cozeners, and in the end be cozened by 
 cozeners : farewell, Mother Bom. 
 ia^ianl heard Mother Bombie say, that thou 
 shalt die a beggar ; beware of Mother Bombie. 
 
 Pris. Why, have you all been with Mother 
 Bombie ? 
 
 Luc. All, and as far as I can see she foretold 
 
 Mem. Indeed she is cunning and wise, "never 
 doing harm, but still practising good: seeing 
 these things fall out thus, are you content, Stellioy 
 the match go forward? X^ 
 
 ^'Slel. Aye, with double joy ; having found foi* 
 a fool a wise maid, and finding between them 
 botli exceeding love. 
 
 Pris. Then, to end all jars, our children's 
 matches shall stand with our good liking. Livia, 
 enjoy Candius.
 
 484 MOTHER bombie; 
 
 Sper. Gandius, enjoy Livia. 
 
 Cand. How shall we recompense fortune, that 
 to our loves hath added our parents' good wills? 
 
 31(est. How si I all we requite fortune, that to 
 our loves hath added lawfulness, and to our poor 
 estate competent living? :>'u 
 
 Mem. Vicina, thy fact is pardoned; though 
 the law would see it punished; we be content 
 to keep Silena in the house with the new married 
 couple. 'Vuai 
 
 Stel. And I do maintain Accius in our house. 
 
 Vic. Come, my children, though fortune hath 
 not provided you lands, yet you see you are not 
 destitute of friends : I shall be eased of a charge 
 both in purse and conscience; in conscience, 
 having revealed my lewd practises; in purse, 
 having you kept of alms. 
 
 Ace. Come, if you be my sister, 'tis the better 
 for you. 
 
 Sil. Come, brother, methinks it is better than 
 it was; I should have been but a bald bride; 
 I'll eat as much pie as if I had been married. 
 
 Mem. Let's also forgive the knavery of our 
 boys, since all turns to our good haps. /^iJi 
 
 Stel. Agreed, all are pleased, now the boys 
 are unpunished. 
 
 Enter Hackneyman, Serjeant, and Scrivener. 
 
 Hack. Nay, soft, take us with you and seek 
 redress for our wrongs, or we'll complain to the 
 mayor. 
 
 Pris. What's the matter? : 
 
 ;,>*' . , 
 
 Hack. I arrested Memphio's boy for a horse; 
 after much mocking, at the request o^'liji^ .fellow
 
 A COMEDY. '285 
 
 wags, I was content to take a bond jointly of 
 them all : they had me into a tavern, there they 
 made me, the Scrivener, and the Serjeant drunk, 
 pawned his mace for the wine, and sealed me an 
 obligation nothing to the purpose: I pray you 
 read it. 
 
 Mem. What wags be these! Why by this bond 
 'ryou can demand nothing; and things done in 
 'drink may be repented in soberness, but not re- 
 medied. 
 
 Drom. Sir, I have his acquittance; let him 
 sue his bond. 
 
 Hack. I'll cry quittance with thee. 
 
 Serj. And I, or it shall cost me the laying on 
 freely of my mace. 
 .=< Scri. And I'll give thee such a dash with a 
 pen as shall cost thee many a pound ; with such 
 ii'a noverint* as Cheapside can show none such. 
 
 Half. Uo your worst; our knaveries w\\\ re- 
 venge it upon your children's children. 
 
 Mem. Then, boy, we will pay the hire of the 
 horse; be not angry. The boys have been in a 
 H- merry cozening vein, for they have sei*ved their 
 masters of the same sort, but all must be for- 
 ^y gotten. Now all are content but the poor fiddlers, 
 they shall be sent for to the marriage, and have 
 double fees. 
 
 Drom. You need no more send for a fiddler to 
 a feast, than a beggar to a fair. 
 
 Stel. This day we will feast at my house. * 
 
 Mem. To-morrow at mine. 
 
 * It is to be remembered that in the time of our poet (and 
 very long afterwards) all legal instruments were written in Latin, 
 and noverint universi was a very general beginning. 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 286 MOTHER BOMBIE : A COMEDY. 
 
 Pris. The next day at mine. 
 
 Sper. Then at mine the last; and even so 
 8pend this week in good cheer. 
 
 Drom. Then we were best be going whilst 
 every one is pleased ; and yet these couples are 
 not fully pleased till the priest have done his 
 worst. 
 
 Ris. Gome, Serjeant, we'll toss it this week, 
 and make thy mace arrest a boiled capon. 
 
 Serj. No more words at the wedding : if the 
 mayor should know it, I were in danger of mine 
 office. 
 
 Ris. Then take heed how, on such as we are, 
 you show a cast of your office. 
 
 Half. If you mace us, we'll pepper you. 
 
 Ace. Come, sister, the best is, we shall have 
 good cheer these four days. 
 
 Luc. And be fools for ever. 
 
 SiL That's none of our upseekings. 
 
 FINIS.
 
 I 
 
 MIDAS: 
 
 ^ COMEDY. 
 
 JOHN LYLY. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 X* OR the subject and incidents of this Comedy, Ljly was 
 indebted to Ovid, Galtruchius, and " The Golden Ass" of 
 Apuleius ; in the latter work the story is related at large. 
 If the reader be not already acquainted with it, he may 
 be desirous of knowing something of the fabulous history 
 on which it is founded, without referring to works, some 
 of which are little known. According to these, Silenus, 
 the drunken preceptor of Bacchus, having lost his way, 
 was taken by some shepherds to the court of Midas, king 
 of Phrygia, who hospitably entertained him for ten days, 
 and then conducted him in safety to Bacchus, who, gra- 
 tified at the kindness and attention shown to his friend, 
 permitted Midas to make choice of his own recompense, 
 and he solicited that every thing he touched might be- 
 changed into gold ; his wish was immediately granted, a 
 compliance 
 
 " That kept the word of promise to the car, 
 And broke it to the hope." 
 
 For his very food was necessarily subject to these trans- 
 mutations, and thus the fulfilment of his own desires be- 
 came a curse instead of a blessing. Overwhelmed with 
 this unforeseen consequence he ;>gain approached the 
 god, and, in compliance with his directions, bathed him- 
 self in the river Pactolus, and was released from this un- 
 happy power ; the final exertion of which was on the 
 sands over which the river coursed, which were imme- 
 diately changed into gold : but the misfortunes of Midas 
 did not end here ; for having on a future occasion main- 
 tained the superiority of Pan over Apollo in a musical 
 contention of these gods, the latter, enraged at his be- 
 
 z2
 
 292 
 
 sotted ignorance, changed his ears into those of an asg ; 
 this disgrace he contrived to conceal from all but his 
 barber, whom he bound never to divulge it ; but he, find- 
 ing this impossible, and fearing the vengeance of the 
 monarch if it should be known that he had betrayed him, 
 opened a hole in the earth, there whispered it, and closed 
 the ground as before. On that spot grew a number of 
 reeds, these when agitated gave to the winds the same 
 sounds that had been buried, proclaiming to the world 
 that Midas had the ears of an ass. It is perhaps unne- 
 cessary to say that this, as most other of these fables, has 
 been supposed to represent in allegory some real circum- 
 stance of history. 
 
 In the adoption of these incidents Lyly has closely fol- 
 lowed his original, without atiy attempt to ridicule their 
 absurdity ; but it seems evident from the general purport 
 of the piece, and particularly from a speech in the open- 
 ing of the third act, that the courtly poet had a further 
 view in the selection of this story than the mere amuse- 
 ment of his auditors, intending through it to commemo- 
 rate and applaud the exploits of his royal mistress. If 
 this conjecture be correct, Philip II. of Spain was meant 
 to be represented under the character of Midas ; the pro- 
 duce of his mines in South America, by his desire to turn 
 every thing about him into gold ; and the defeat of the 
 Armada, by the fruitless attempts of Midas to subdue the 
 Island of Lesbos : this last, as the most glorious transac- 
 tion of her reign, must have been in the highest degree 
 acceptable to Elizabeth ; the more so as the intended 
 compliment, though it might be evident, was not gross. 
 
 On a part of this story is founded the celebrated bur- 
 letta of the same name. In this latter piece, as tlie inten- 
 tion of the author was only to raise mirth and excite 
 laughter, he is not supposed under any obligation to fol- 
 low the necessary rules of regular comedy. Tiie passages 
 therefore where Juno threatens to cite Jupiter to appear 
 in Doctor^s Commons., where Midas (who lived before the 
 Trojan war) is represented as a Justice of the Peace. 
 bribed by English guineas ai^d an old Jacobus, wlicre Nysa
 
 293 
 
 expresses her fears of being compelled to turn nun, and 
 Daphne and^Nysa compare each other to the doll of an 
 infant and the gigantic Jigures in Guildhall, and as fitted 
 for husbands from Lilliput and Brohdignag ; these but 
 add to the ludicrous absurdity, mirth, and humour of the 
 piece; but it does not seem a model proper to be fol- 
 lowed by writers, who may easily copy the incongruities, 
 but will not as easily approach the wit and humour of 
 O'Hara. 
 
 4P
 
 THE 
 
 PROLOGUE IN PAULS. 
 
 Gentlemen, so nice is the world, that for ap- 
 parel there is no fashion, for music no instru- 
 ment, for diet no delicate, for plays no invention 
 but breedeth satiety before noon, and contempt 
 before night. 
 
 Come to the tailor, he is gone to the painters 
 to learn how more cunning may lurk in the fashion, 
 than can be expressed in the making. Ask the 
 musicians, they will say their heads ake with 
 devising notes beyond Ela*: inquire at ordina- 
 ries, there must be salads for the Italian ; pick- 
 tooths for the Spaniard ; pots for the German ; 
 porridge for the Englishman. At our exercises, 
 soldiers calkfor tragedies, their object is blood ' 
 
 * Ela was, I believe, the highest note in the gamut. Hortenzo 
 ends witli it in Act III. Scene I. of " Taming the Shrew." It is 
 used literally here, but not unfrequently by our old dramatic 
 poets, to represent something very unusual and extravagant. 
 Thus in the " Humorous Lieutenant," of Beaumont and Fletcher, 
 where the lieutenant (in consequence of the magical potion, or 
 philtre, which he had swallowed) is described as kissing the 
 king's horses, buying all the pictures of him, and going to lodge 
 in King- street, &c. one of his friends observes, 
 " Why this is above Ela." 
 
 yj*
 
 THE PROLOGUE IN PAULS. 295 
 
 courtiers for comedies, their subject is love : 
 countrymen for pastorals, shepherds are their 
 saints. Traffic afid travel hath woven the nature 
 of all nations into ours, and made this land like 
 arras, full of devise, which was broad-cloth full 
 of workmanship. 
 
 Time hath confounded our minds, our minds 
 the matter ; but all cometh to this pass, that 
 what heretofore hath been served in several dishes 
 for a feast, is now minced in a charger for a gal- 
 limaufrey. If we present a mingle-mangle, our 
 fault is to be excused, because the whole world 
 is become a hodgepodge. 
 
 We are jealous of your judgments, because 
 you are wise; of our own performance, because 
 we are imperfect ; of our author's device, because 
 he is idle. Only this doth encourage us, that 
 presenting our studies before gentlemen, though 
 they receive an inward mislike, we shall not be 
 hissed with an open disgrace. 
 
 Stirps rudis urtica est : stirps generosa^ rosa.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Bacchus. 
 
 Apollo. 
 
 Paq. 
 
 Midas, King of Pbrygia. 
 
 Eristus, 1 
 
 Martius, > gentlemen of the court. 
 
 Mellacrites, ) 
 
 X,icio, 1 
 
 Petulus, > servants. 
 
 Minutius, j 
 
 Motto, a barber. 
 
 Dello, his boy. 
 
 Menalcas,'\ 
 
 Coryn, / 
 
 Celthus, > shepherds. 
 
 Driapou, I 
 
 Cimyntas,J 
 
 Huntsman. 
 
 Sophronia, the daughter of Midas. 
 
 Ccelia, "^ 
 
 Camilla, (.ladies of tlie court. 
 Amerula, I , 
 
 Suavia, j 
 Pipenetta, a servant. 
 Nymphes.
 
 MIDAS. 
 
 ACT I. Scene I. 
 
 Bacchus, Midas, Eristus, Martius, and 
 Mellacrites. 
 
 Bac. Midas, where the gods bestow benefits 
 they ask thanks, but where they receive good turns 
 they give rewards. Thou hast filled my belly 
 with meat, mine ears with music, mine eyes with 
 wonders. Bacchus, of all the gods, is the best 
 fellow, and Midas amongst men a king of fellows. 
 All thy grounds are vineyards, thy corn grapes, 
 thy chambers cellars, thy household stuff stand- 
 ing cups ; and therefore ask any thing it shall be 
 granted. Wouldst thou have the pipes of thy 
 conduits to run wine, the udders of thy beasts 
 to drop nectar, or thy trees to bud ambrosia ? 
 Desirest thou to be fortunate in thy love, or in 
 thy victories famous, or to have the years of thy 
 life as many as the hairs on thy head ? Nothing 
 shall be denied, so great is Bacchus, so happy is 
 Midas. 
 
 Mid. Bacchus, for a king to beg of a god it is 
 no shame, but to ask with advice, wisdom : give 
 me leave to consult ; lest desiring things above 
 my reach, I be fired with Phaeton; or against na- 
 ture, and be drowned with Icarus ; and so perish-
 
 298 MIDAS : 
 
 ing, the world shall both laugh and wonder, cry- 
 ing, Magnis tamen excidit ausis. 
 
 JBac. Consult, Bacchus will consent. 
 
 Mid. INow, my lords, let me hear your opi- 
 nions, what wish may make Midas most happy, 
 and his subjects best content. 
 
 Eris. * Were I a king I would wish to possess 
 my mistress, for what sweetness can there be 
 found in life but love, whose wounds the more 
 mortal th^ are to the heart, the more immortal 
 they make ^ the possessors: and who knoweth 
 not that the possessing of that must be most pre- 
 cious, the pursuing whereof i so pleasing. 
 
 Mart. Love is a pastime for children breeding 
 nothing but folly, and nourishing nothing but 
 idleness. I would wish to be monarch of the 
 world, conquering kingdoms like villages ; and, 
 being greatest on the earth, be commander of 
 the whole earth : for what is there that more 
 tickles the mind of a king, than a hope to be the 
 only king, wringing out of every country tribute, 
 and in his own to sit in triumph. Those that 
 call conquerors ambitious, are like those that 
 term thrift tovetousness, cleanliness pride, ho- 
 nej?ty preciseness. Command the world, Midas, 
 a greater thing you cannot desire, a less you 
 should not. 
 
 Mid. What say you, Mellacrites ? 
 
 Mel. Nothing, but that these two have said 
 nothing. I would wish that every thing I touched 
 
 * This contest between Eristus, Martins, and Mellacrites seems 
 to be an imitation of a passage in the third and fourth chapters 
 of the first book of F.sdras, on the comparative strength of w hie, 
 the king, and women.
 
 A COMEDY. 2l99 
 
 might turn to gold : this is the sinews of war, 
 and the sweetness of peace. Is it not gold that 
 maketh the chastest to yield to lust, the honestest 
 to lewdness, the wisest to folly, the faithfulest to 
 deceit, and the most holy in heart to be most 
 hollow of heart ? In this word gold, are all the 
 powers of the gods, the desires of men, the won- 
 ders of the world, the miracles of nature, the 
 looseness of fortune, and triumphs of time. By 
 gold may you shake the courts of other princes, 
 and have your own settled ; one spade of gold 
 undermines faster than an hundred mattocks of 
 steel. Would one be thought religious and de- 
 vout? Qtiantum quisque sua nummorum servat in 
 area, tantum habet et fidei: religions balance are 
 golden bags*. Desire you virtue, querenda pecunia 
 primum est, virtus post nummos : the first stair of 
 virtue is money. Doth any thirst after gentry, and 
 wish to be esteemed beautiful ? et genus etformam 
 regina pecunia donat. King Coin hath a mint to 
 stamp gentlemen, and art to make amiableness. 
 I deny not but love is sweet and the marrow of 
 a man's mind; that to conquer kings is the quin- 
 tessence of the thoughts of kings : why then fol- 
 low both ; Aurea sunt vero nunc scecida, plurimus 
 aura venit honos, auro conciiiatur amor : it is a 
 world for gold ; honour and love are both taken 
 up on interest. Doth Midas determine to tempt 
 
 * It would sound better to modern ears if we were to read 6a- 
 iances ; but the same mode of expression is to be found iu Sbak- 
 speare's " Merchant of Venice :" 
 
 " Por. Are there balance here to weigh the flesh ? 
 
 Sfiij. I have them ready."
 
 300 MIDAS : 
 
 the miuds of true subjects, to draw them from 
 obedience to treachery, from their allegiance and 
 oaths to treason and perjury? quid non morlalia 
 pectora cogit auri sacra fames, what holes doth 
 not gold bore. in men's hearts? Such virtue is 
 there in gold, that being bred in the barrenest 
 ground and trodden under foot, it mounleth to 
 sit on princes' heads. Wish gold, Midas, or 
 wish not to be Midas. In the council of the gods 
 was not Annbis with his long nose of gold pre- 
 ferred before Neptune, whose statute was but 
 brass? and iEsculapius more honoured for his 
 golden beard, than Apollo for his sweet har- 
 mony? 
 
 Erist. To have gold and not love (which can- 
 not be purchased with gold) is to be a slave to 
 gold. 
 
 Mart. To possess mountains of gold, and a 
 mistress more precious than gold, and not to 
 command the world, is to make Midas new 
 prentice to a mint, and journeyman to a woman. 
 
 Mel. To enjoy a fair lady in love and want 
 fair gold to give, to have thousands of people to 
 fight and no penny to pay, will make one's mis- 
 tress wild, and his soldiers tame. Jupiter was a 
 god, but he knew gold was a greater, and flew into 
 those grates with his golden wings, where he 
 could not enter with his swan's wings. What 
 stayed Atlanta's course with Hippomanes? an 
 apple of gold : what made the three goddesses 
 strive? an apple of gold. If therefore thou make 
 not thy mistress a goldfinch, thou mayest chance 
 to \m(S. her a wagtail : believe me, res est ingeniosa
 
 A COMEDY. 301 
 
 dare : besides, how many gates of cities this gol- 
 den key hath opened, we may remember of late, 
 and ought to fear hereafter. That iron world is 
 worn out, the golden is now come, svh Jove nunc 
 mundiis, jussa seqimre Jovis. 
 
 JSrist. Gold is but the guts of the earth. 
 
 3Iel. I had rather have the earth's guts than 
 the moon's brains *. What is it that gold cannot 
 command, or hath not conquered ? Justice her- 
 self that sitteth wimpled f about the eyes, doth it 
 not because she will take no gold, but that she 
 would not be seen blushing when she takes it : 
 the balance she holdeth are not to weigh the 
 right of the cause, but the weight of the bribe : 
 she will put up her naked sword if you offer her a 
 golden scabbard. 
 
 Mid. Cease yon to dispute, I am determined. 
 It is gold, Bacchus, that Midas desireth ; let 
 every thing that Midas toucheth be turned to 
 gold, so shalt thou bless thy guest, and manifest 
 thy godhead. Let it be gold, Bacchus. 
 
 Bac. Midas, thy wish cleaveth to thy last 
 word. Take up this stone. 
 
 Mid. Fortunate Midas! It is gold, Mella- 
 crites ; gold, it is gold ! 
 
 3Iel. This stick. 
 
 Mid. Gold, Mellacrites ! my sweet boy, all is 
 gold ; for ever honoured be Bacchus, that above 
 measure hath made Midas fortunate ! 
 
 Hac. If Midas be pleased, Bacchus is ; I will 
 
 * Mellacrites satirically insinuates that Eristus and Martius, 
 who preferred love and power to gold, were hinatic. 
 \ " Wimpled," veiled, hooded.
 
 302 MIDAS V 
 
 to my temple with Sileniis, for by this time there 
 are many to offer unto me sacrifices, pcenam pro 
 munere poscis. 
 
 Mid. Come, my lords, I will with gold pave 
 my court, and deck with gold my turrets ; these 
 petty islands near to Phrygia shall totter, and 
 other kingdoms be turned topsy turvey : I will 
 command both the affections of men and the for- 
 tunes. Chastity will grow cheap where gold is 
 not thought dear. Celia, chaste Celia, shall yield. 
 You, my lords, shall have my hands in your 
 houses, turning your brazen gates to fine gold. 
 Thus shall Midas be monarch of the world, the 
 darer of fortune, the commander of love. Come 
 let us in. >i^n.^ I 
 
 Mel. We follow, desiring that our thoughts 
 may be touched with thy finger, that they also 
 may become gold. 
 
 Erist. Well, I fear the event, because of Bac- 
 chus' last woxd^, pceiiam pro munere poscis. 
 
 3Iid. Tush, he is a drunken god, else he would 
 not have given so great a gift. Now it is done, I 
 care not for any thing he can do. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene II. 
 Licio and Petulus. 
 
 Lie. Thou servest Mellacrites, and I his 
 daughter; which is the better man? 
 
 Pet. The masculine gender is more worthy 
 than the feminine, therefore Licio backare *. 
 
 * The first part of this speech is a quotation from the Latin 
 grammar of William Lily. Backare means give place, or aUotv
 
 A COMEDY. 303 
 
 Lie. That is when those two genders are at 
 jar; but when they belong both to one thing, 
 then 
 
 Pet. What then ? 
 
 Lie. Then they agree like the fiddle and the 
 
 stick. -i^i-.r, pi l'^ /;/ 
 
 Pet. Pulchr^ sanh. God's blessing on thy 
 blue nose ; but, Licio, ray mis^ess is a proper 
 woman. ^ 
 
 Lie. Ah, but thou knowest no other proper- 
 ties. 
 
 Pet. I care not for her qualities, so I may em- 
 brace her quantity. 
 
 Lie. Are you so pert ? 
 
 Pet. Aye, and so expert, that I can as well 
 tell the thoughts of a woman's heart by her eyes, 
 as the change of the weather by an almanack. 
 
 Lie. Sir boy, you must not be saucy. 
 
 Pet. No, but faithful and serviceable. 
 
 Lie. Lock up your lips, or I will lop them off. 
 But, sirrah, for thy better instructions, I will un- 
 fold every wrinkle of my mistress' disposition. 
 
 Pet. I pray thee do. 
 
 Lie. But for this time I will only handle the 
 head and purtenance*. 
 
 me the precedency. In this sense it is used by Shakspeare in 
 " The Taming of the Shrew :" 
 
 " Baccare you are marvellous forward." 
 And the passage in the text has been quoted by Stevens in ex- 
 planation : and, as a proof of its meaning, Farmer has also 
 quoted two epigrams of John Haywood's, in which it is also 
 found ; one of them is the following : 
 
 " Backare, quoth Mortimer to his sow. 
 Went that sow back at his bidding trow you T 
 * " The head and purtenance," i. e. the head and things im- 
 mediately belonging to it. So in Hamlet: 
 
 " The appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony."
 
 ^04 MIDAS : 
 
 Pet. Nothing else ? 
 
 Lie. Why, will not that be a long hour's work 
 to describe, that is almost a whole day's work to 
 dress ? 
 
 Pet. Proceed. 
 
 Lie. First, she hath a head as round as a ten- 
 nis ball. 
 
 Pet. I would my bed were a hazard. 
 
 Lie. Why? 
 
 Pet. Nothing, but that I would have her head 
 there among other balls. 
 
 Lie. Video ^ pro intelligo. Then hath she an 
 hawk's eye. 
 
 Pet. O that I were a partridge head ! 
 : Lie, To what end ? 
 
 Pet. That she might tire* with her eyes on my 
 countenance. 
 
 Lie. Would st thou be hanged? 
 
 Pet. Seilieet. 
 
 Lie. Well, she hath the tongue of a parrot. 
 
 Pet. That's a leaden dagger in a velvet sheath, 
 to have a black tongue in a fair mouth. 
 
 Lie. Tush, it is not for the blackness, but for 
 the babbling, for every hour she will cry, ** walk 
 knave, walk." 
 
 Pet. Then will I mutter, *' a rope for parrot, a 
 rope t-" 
 
 * A hawk is said to tire upon the prey on which she feeds. 
 
 t Parrots seem to have been commonly instructed to call rope^ 
 and ivalk, knave, walk; phrases applied by persons that heard 
 them at their discretion. i5utler alludes to this in Hudibras : 
 
 " Could tell what subtlest parrots mean. 
 That speak and think contrary clean ; 
 What member "'tis of whom they talk. 
 When they cry ro|/p, and icalk, kuavc^'walk."
 
 A COMEDY. 305 
 
 Lie. So mayest thou be hanged, not by the 
 lips, but by the neck. Then, sir, hath she a 
 calve's tooth. , , 
 
 Pet. O monstrous mouth ! I would then it 
 had been a sheep's eye, and a neat's tongue. 
 
 Lie. It is not for the bigness but the sweet- 
 ness: all her teeth are as sweet as the sweet 
 tooth of a calf. 
 
 Pet. Sweetly meant. 
 
 Lie. She hath the ears of a want. 
 
 Pet. Doth she want ears ? 
 
 Lie. 1 say the ears of a want, a mole ; thou 
 dost want wit to understand me. ^She will hear 
 though she be never so low on the ground. 
 
 Pet. Why, then, if one ask her a question, it 
 is likely she will hearken to it. 
 
 Lie. Hearken thou after that, she hath the 
 nose of a sow. 
 
 Pet. Then belike she wears her wedding ring*. 
 
 Lie. No, she can smell a knave a mile off. 
 
 Pet. Let us go farther, Licio, she hath both 
 us in the wind. 
 
 Lie. She hath a beetle brow. 
 
 Pet. What is she beetle browed f? 
 
 Lie. Thou hast a beetle head X ; I say the brow 
 of a beetle, a little fly, whose brow is as black 
 as velvet. 
 
 * This plays upon the custom of putting a ring through th 
 nose of a pig. 
 
 t " What is she beetle browed T' Petulus plays ou the word 
 beetle, which signifies frowning, overhanging, 
 " The dreadful summit of the cliff. 
 That beetles o'er his base." HAMLET. 
 
 X Thou hast a beetle-head ; i. e. thou art a stupid fellow ; to 
 in the " Taming of the Shrew :" 
 
 " A whoreson, beetle-heade^, 6ap*eared knave." 
 VOL. I. A A
 
 306 MIDAS : 
 
 P^* What lips hath she? I^^vr 
 
 Lie. Tush, the lips are no part of the head^ 
 only made for a double leaf door for the mouth. 
 
 Pet. What is then the chin? 
 
 Lie. That is only the threshold to the door. 
 
 Pet. I perceive you are driven to the wall that 
 stands behind the door, for this is ridiculous : 
 but now you can say no more of the head, begin 
 with the purtenances, for that was your promise. 
 
 Lie. The purtenances ! it is impossible to reckon 
 them up, much less to tell the nature of them. 
 Hoods, frontlets, wires, cauls, curling-irons, pe- 
 riwigs, bodkins, fillets, hairlaces, ribbons, roles, 
 knotstrings, glasses, combs, caps, hats, coifs,, 
 kerchers, clothes, earrings, borders, crippins, 
 shadows, spots, and so many other trifles, as 
 both I want the words of art to name them, time 
 to utter them, and wit to remember them : these 
 be but a few notes. 
 
 Pet. Notes, quoth you, I note one thing. 
 
 Lie. What is that ? 
 
 Pet. That if every part require so much as the 
 head, it will make the richest husband in the 
 world ache at the heart. 
 
 Enter Pipenetta. 
 
 Lie. But soft, here comes Pipenetta. What 
 news ? 
 
 Pip. I would not be in your coats for any thing. 
 
 Lie. Indeed if thou shouldest rig up and down 
 in our jackets thou wouldst be thought a very 
 tomboy. 
 
 Pip, I mean I would not be in your cases. 
 
 Pet. Neither shalt thou, Pipenetta ; for first,
 
 A COMEDY. 307 
 
 they are too little for' thy body, and then too 
 fair to pull over so foul a skin. 
 ^ Pip. These boys be drunk, I would not be in 
 your takings. 
 
 Lie. I think so, for we take nothing in our 
 hands but weapons ; it is for thee to use needles 
 and pins ; a sampler, not a buckler. 
 
 Pip. Nay, then we shall never have done, I 
 mean I would not be so coursed as you shall be. 
 
 Pet. Worse and worse. We are no chase 
 (pretty mops) for deer we are not, neither red 
 nor fallow, because we are batchelors, and have 
 not cornu eopia, we want heads : hares we are 
 not, because they are male one year, and the 
 next female * ; we change not our sex : badgers 
 we are not, for our legs are one as long as an- 
 other : and who will take us to be foxes, that 
 stand so near a goose and bite not. 
 
 Pip. Fools you are, and therefore good game 
 for wise men to hunt; but for knaves I leave 
 you, for honest wenches to talk of. 
 
 Lie. Nay, stay, sweet Pipenetta, we are but 
 disposed to be merry. 
 
 Pip. I marvel how old you will be before you 
 are disposed to be honest ; but this is the matter, 
 my master is gone abroad, and wants his page 
 to wait on him ; my mistress would rise, and 
 lacks your worship to fetch her hair. 
 
 Pet. Why, is it not on her head ? 
 
 Pip. Methinks it should ; but I mean the hair 
 she must wear to day. 
 
 . * This was a vulgar error iutroduced early and expelled late, 
 which extended itself to the works of many writers on natural 
 history. 
 
 A a2
 
 308 MIDAS : 
 
 Lie. Why, doth she wear any but her own? 
 
 Pip, In faith, sir, no, I am sure it is her own 
 when she pays for it*. But do you hear the 
 strange news at the court ? 
 
 Pet. No, except this be it, to have one's hair 
 lie all night out of the house from one's head. 
 
 Pip. Tush, every thing that Midas toucheth 
 is gold. 
 
 Pet. The devil it is ! 
 
 Pip. Indeed gold is the devil. 
 
 Lie. Thou art deceived, wench, angels are 
 goldf- But is it true? 
 
 Pip. True? Why the meat that he toucheth 
 turneth to gold, so doth the drink, so doth his 
 raiment. '^ - ' V^ 
 
 Pet. I would he would give me a good box 
 on the ear, that I might have a golden cheek. 
 
 Lie. How happy should we be if he would 
 but stroke our heads, that we might have golden 
 hairs. But let us all in, lest he lose the virtue 
 of the gift before we taste the benefit. 
 
 Pip. If he take a cudgel and that turn to gold, 
 yet beating you with, it, you shall only feel the 
 weight of gold. ' 
 
 Pet. What difference to be beaten with gold, 
 and to be beaten gold ? 
 
 Pip. As much as to say, driiik before you go 
 and go before you drink. 
 
 Lie. Comip, let us go, lest we drink of a dry 
 cup for bur long tarrying. [Exeunt. 
 
 "^ This is a jest that has been very frequently repeated since 
 the time of our poet. The Pontia- of Prior, and the Epigram 
 on Galla's golden hair are well known. 
 
 t An angel was a small gold coin of the value of ten shillings.
 
 A COMfiDY. ' 309 
 
 ACT II. Scene I. ^ 
 
 Eristus and C(Elia. 
 
 Erisl. Fair Ccelia, thou seest of gold there is 
 satiety, of love there cannot. 
 
 Ccel. If thou should st wish that whatsoever 
 thou thoughtest might be love, as Midas what- 
 ever he touched might be gold; it may be, love 
 would be as lothsome to thine ears. as gold is tp 
 his eyes, and make thy heart pinch with melan- 
 choly as his guts do with famine. 
 
 Erist. No, sweet Ccelia, in love there is^ va- 
 riety. _j 4^ 
 
 Ccel. Indeed men vary in their love. 
 
 Erist. They vary their love, yet change it not. 
 
 C(el. Love and change are at variance, there- 
 fore if they vary they must change." 
 
 Erist. Men change the manner of their love, 
 not the humour; the means how to obtain, not the 
 mistress they honour. So did Jupiter, that could 
 not intreat Danae by golden words, possess his 
 love by a golden shower, not altering his affec- 
 tion, but using art. 
 
 Ccel. The same Jupiter was an eagle, a swan, 
 a bull, and for every saint a new shape, as men 
 have for every mistress a new shadow. If you 
 take example of the gods; who more wanton, 
 more wavering ? If of yourselves, being but men, 
 who will think you more .constant than gods?
 
 310 ' MIDAS : 
 
 Eristus, if gold could have allured mine eyes, 
 thou knowest Midas, that commandeth all things 
 to be gold, had conquered : if threats might have 
 feared* my heart, Midas being a king, might have 
 commanded my affections : if love, gold, or au- 
 thority might have enchanted me, Midas had 
 obtained by love, gold, and authority, Quorum si 
 singula nostrum Jiectere non poteranf, potuissent 
 omnia mentem. 
 
 JErist. Ah, Ccelia, if kings say they love, and 
 yet dissemble, who dare say that they dissemble 
 and not love? They command the affections of 
 others to yield, and their own to be believed. My 
 tears, which have made furrows in my cheeks, 
 and in mine eyes fountains; my sighs, which 
 have made of my heart a furnace, and kindled 
 in my head flames ; my body, that melteth by 
 piecemeal, and my mind, that pineth at an in- 
 stant, may witness that my love is both imspotted 
 and unspeakable. Quorum si singula duram fiec- 
 tere non poterant, deheroit omnia mentem. But 
 soft, here cometh the princess, with the rest of 
 the lords. 
 
 Enter Sophronia, Mellacrites and Martius. 
 
 Sop. Mellacrites, I cannot tell whether I should 
 more mislike thy counsel, or Midas' consent; 
 but the covetous humour of you both I contemn 
 and wonder at, being unfit for a king, whose ho- 
 
 * To fear (as hath been observed by Stevens) is often used by 
 our old writers in this sense. So the Prince of Morocco, in thq 
 ** Merchant of Venice :" 
 
 " I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine 
 
 Hath yi?r'rf the valiant;" I J r
 
 A COMEDY. 31 1 
 
 Hour should consist in liberality not greediness ; 
 and unworthy the calling of Mellacrites, whose 
 fame should rise by the soldier's god, Mars, not 
 by the merchant's god, gold. 
 
 Mel. Madam, things past cannot be recalled, 
 but repented; and, therefore, are rather to be 
 pitied than punished. It now behoveth us to 
 consider how to redress the miserable estate of 
 our king, not to dispute of the occasion. Your 
 highness sees, and without grief you cannot see, 
 that his meat turneth to massy gold in his mouth, 
 and his wine slideth down his throat like liquid 
 gold; if he touch his robes they are turned to 
 gold : and what is there not that toucheth him 
 but becometh gold ? 
 
 Erist. Ah, Mellacrites, if thy tongue had been 
 turned to gold before thou gavest our king such 
 counsel, Midas' heart had been full of ease, and 
 thy mouth of gold. 
 
 Mart. If my advice had taken place, Midas, 
 that now sitteth over head and ears in crowns *, 
 had worn upon his head many kings crowns; 
 and been conqueror of the world, that is now 
 commander of dross. That greediness of Mel- 
 lacrites, whose heart-strings are made of Plutus' 
 purse-strings, hath made Midas a lump of earth, 
 that should be a god on earth ; and thy effemi- 
 nate mind, Eristus, whose eyes are stitched on 
 Cffilia's face, and thoughts gyved ]' to her beauty, 
 
 * It is perhaps needless to say that a coin is here meant, 
 which were formerly sometimes of gold ; such were coined both 
 by Edward VI. and Elizabeth. 
 
 t " Gyved," chained. In the strict sense gyves were the 
 irons fastened round the legs of prisoners. But Ben Jonson 
 uses it figuratively, and talks of " goldeu gyves."
 
 31^ MIDAS ; ; 
 
 hath bred in all the court such a tender wanton- 
 ness, that nothinj^ is thought of but love ; a pas- 
 sion proceeding of beastly lust, and coloured 
 with a courtly name of love: thus whilest we 
 follow the nature of things we forget the names. 
 Since this unsatiable thirst of gold, and untem- 
 perate humour of lust crept into the king's court, 
 soldiers have begged arms of artificers, and with 
 their helmet on their head been glad to follow 
 a lover with a glove in his hat, which so much 
 abateth the courage of true captains, that they 
 must account it more honourable, in the court to 
 be a coward so rich and amorous, than in a 
 camp to be valiant, if poor and maimed. He is 
 move favoured that pricks his finger with his 
 mistress's needle, than he that breaks his lance 
 on his enemy s face ; and he that hath his mouth 
 full of fair words, than he that hath his body full 
 of deep scars. If one be old and have silver 
 hairs on his beard, so he have golden ruddocks* 
 in his bags, he must be wise and honourable : if 
 young, and have curled locks on his head, amorous 
 glances with his eyes, smooth speeches in his 
 mouth, every lady's lap shall be his pillow, every 
 lady's face his glass, every lady's ear a sheath 
 for his flatteries ; only soldiers, if they be old, 
 must beg in their own countries ; if young, try the 
 fortune of wars in another. He is the man that, 
 being let blood, carries his arm in a scarf of his 
 
 *, Ruddock is literally the red breast, so called by Chaucer 
 and Spencer. It is used metaphorically for a piece of gold coin. 
 So in the " Heir of Linne :" 
 
 " He told him forth, the good red gold, 
 
 He told it forth with mickle dinne."
 
 A COMEDY. 313 
 
 mistress' favour ; not he that bears his leg on a 
 stilt for his country's safety. 
 
 Sop. Stay, Martius ; though I know love to 
 grow to such looseness, and hoarding to such 
 misery, that I may rather grieve at both than re- 
 medy either ; yet thy animating my father to 
 continual arms to conquer crowns, hath only 
 brought him into imminent danger of his own 
 head : the love he hath followed, I fear unnatural, 
 the riches he hath got, I know unmeasurable, 
 the wars he hath levied, I doubt unlawful, have 
 drawn his body with grey hairs to the grave's 
 mouth, and his mind with eating cares to despe- 
 rate determinations: ambition hath but two 
 steps ; the lowest blood, the highest envy : both 
 these hath my unhappy father climbed ; digging 
 mines of gold with the lives of men ; and now, 
 envied of the whole world, is environed with 
 enemies round about the world ; not knowing 
 that ambition hath one heel nailed in hell, though 
 she stretch her finger to touch the heavens. 1 
 would the gods would remove this punishment, 
 so that Midas would be penitent. Let him thrust 
 thee, Eristus, with thy love into Italy, where 
 they honour lust for a god, as the Egyptians did 
 dogs; thee, Mellacrites, with thy greediness of 
 gold, to the utmost part of the west*, where all 
 the guts of the earth are gold : and thee, Martius, 
 that soundest but blood and terror, into those 
 barbarous nations, where nothing is to be found 
 
 * There can be no doubt tliat South America is here meant ; 
 but the expression is so general that the Anachronism is not so 
 gross and palpable as many in both Shakspeare and Beaumont 
 and Fletcher,
 
 514 MIDAS : 
 
 but blood and terror. Let Phrygia be an ex- 
 ample of chastity, not lust ; liberality, not covet- 
 ousness ; valour, not tyranny. I wish not your 
 bodies banished, but your minds ; that my father 
 and your king may be our honour and the world's 
 wonder. And thou, Coelia, and all you ladies, 
 learn this of Sophronia ; that beauty in a minute 
 is both a blossom and a blast; love, a worm 
 which seeming to live in the eye, dies in the 
 heart. You be all young and fair, endeavour all 
 to be wise and virtuous ; that when, like roses, 
 you shall fall from the stalk, you may be gather- 
 ed and put to the still. 
 
 CceL Madam, I am free from love, and unfor- 
 tunate to be beloved. 
 
 Erist. To be free from love is strange, but to 
 think scorn to be beloved, monstrous. 
 
 Sop. Eristus, thy tongue doth itch to talk of 
 love, and my ears tingle to hear it. I charge you 
 all, if you owe any duty to your king, to go pre- 
 sently unto the temple of Bacchus, offer praise, 
 gifts, and sacrifice, that Midas may be released 
 of his wish, or his life : this I entreat you, this 
 Midas commands you. Jar not M'ith yourselves; 
 agree in one for your king, if ever you took 
 Midas for your lawful king. 
 
 Mel. Madam, we will go, and omit nothing 
 that duty may perfomi or pains. 
 
 Sop. Go speedily, lest Midas die before you 
 return: and you, Coelia, shall go with me, that 
 with talk we my beguile the time; and my father 
 think of no meat. 
 
 Ccel. I attend. [Exeunt.
 
 A COMEDY. 315 
 
 Scene II. 
 Licio, Petulus, and Pipenetta. 
 
 Lie. Ah, my girl, is not this a golden world? 
 
 Pip. It is all one as if it were lead with me, 
 and yet as golden with me as with the king ; for 
 I see it and feel it not, he feels it and enjoys it 
 not. 
 
 Lie. Gold is but the earth's garbage, a weed 
 bred by the sun, the very rubbish of barren 
 ground. 
 
 Pet. Tush, Licio, thou art unlettered, all the 
 earth is an e^^:, the white, silver; the yolk, 
 gold. 
 
 Lie. Why, thou fool, what hen should lay that 
 
 Pip. I warrant a goose. 
 
 Lie. Nay, I believe a bull. 
 
 Pet. Blirt* to you both, it was laid by the sun. ' 
 
 Pip. Tiie sun is rather a cock than a hen. 
 
 Lie: 'Tis true, girl, else how could Titan have 
 trodden Daphne? 
 
 Pet. I weep over both your wits, if I prove in 
 every respect no difference between an e^ and 
 gold, will you not then grant gold to be an egg? 
 
 Pip. Yes ; but 1 believe thy idle imagination 
 will make it an addle egg. 
 
 Lie. Let us hear. Proceed, Doctor Egg. 
 
 * This, as Mr. Reed hatli observed, is a frequent expression 
 of contempt in the writers of that age. So in Marston's "An- 
 tonio and Melida :" 
 
 " Blirt on your Aymees, guard her safely hence."
 
 316 MIDAS : 
 
 Pet. Gold will be cracked ; a common saying, 
 a cracked crown. 
 
 Pip. Ah, that's a broken head. 
 
 Pet. Nay, then, I see thou hast a broken wit. 
 
 Lie. Well, suppose gold will crack. 
 
 Pet. So will an egg. 
 
 Lie. On. 
 
 Pet. An egg is roasted in the fire. 
 
 Pip. Well. 
 
 Pet. So is gold tried in the fire. 
 
 Lie. Forth. x9\ 
 
 Pet. An egg (as physicians say) will make 
 one lusty. 
 
 Pip. Conclude. 
 
 Pet. And who knows not that gold will make 
 one frolic ? 
 
 Lie. Pipenetta, this is true, for it is called egg 
 as a thing that doth egg on, so doth gold. 
 
 Pip. Let us hear all. ''^ 
 
 Pet. Eggs poach'd are for a wfeak stomach; and 
 g )ld boiled for a consuming body. 
 
 Lie. Spoken like a physician. 
 
 Pip. Or a fool of necessity. 
 
 Pet. An e^^ is eaten at one sup, and a por- 
 tague * lost at one cast. 
 
 Lie. Gamester-like concluded. 
 
 Pet. Eggs make custards, and gold makes 
 spoons to eat them. 
 
 Pip. A reason dough-baked \. 
 
 * A portague was a Portuguese coin, worth four pounds and 
 ten shillings. The word is found in the " Sea Voyage" of Beau- 
 mont and Fletcher, and this explanation given of it by Mr. 
 Weber. 
 
 t '* A reason dough-baked ;" i". e. an imperfect reason.
 
 A COMEDY. 317 
 
 ^^ Ldc. O, the oven of his wit was not thoroughly 
 heated. 
 
 Pet, Only this odds I find between money 
 and eggs, which makes tne wonder ; that being 
 more pence in the world than eggs, that one 
 should have three eggs for a penny, and not three 
 pence for an eg^, 
 
 Pip. A wonderful matter; but your wisdom 
 is overshot in your comparison, for eggs have 
 chickens, gold hath none. 
 
 Pet. Mops, .1 pity thee ; gold hath eggs ; 
 change an angel into ten shillings, and all those 
 pieces are the angel's eggs. 
 
 Lie. He hath made a spoke ; wilt thou eat an 
 egg ? But soft, here comes our masters ; let us 
 shrink aside. 
 
 Efiter Mellacrites, Martius, ajid Eristus,^^ 
 
 Mel. A short answer, yet a sound. Bacchus 
 is pithy and pitiful. 
 
 Oracle. * 
 
 " In Pactolus go bathe thy wish stnd tii^e, 
 
 Thy wish the waves shall have, and thou be free." \ 
 
 Mar. I understand no oracles ; shall the water 
 turn every thing to gold, what then shall become 
 of the fish ? Shall he be free from gold ? What 
 then shall become of us, of his crown, of our 
 country? I like not these riddles. 
 
 Mel. Thou, Martius, art so warlike, that thou 
 wouldst cut off the wish with a sword, not cure 
 it with a salve ; but the gods that can give the 
 desires of the heart, can as easily withdraw the 
 torment. Suppose Vulcan should so temper thy 
 sword, that were thy heart never so valiant, thine
 
 318 MIDAS : 
 
 arm never so strong, yet thy blade sliould never 
 draw blood, wouldest not thou wish to have a 
 weaker hand, and a sharper edge? 
 
 Mart. Yes. 
 
 Mel. If Mars should answer thee thus: go 
 bathe thy sword in water *, and wash thy hands 
 in milk, and thy sword shall cleave adamant, and 
 thy heart answer the sharpness of thy sword; 
 wouldst not thou try the conclusion ? 
 
 Mart. What else ? 
 
 Mel. Then let Midas believe till he have tried, 
 and think that the gods rule as well by giving 
 remedies as granting wishes. But Eristus is 
 mum. 
 
 Mart. Ccelia hath sealed his mouth. 
 
 Erist. Coelia hath sealed her face in my heart, 
 which I am no more ashamed to confess, than 
 thou that Mars hath made a scar in thy face, 
 Martins. But let us in to the king. Sir boys, 
 you wait well. *> f^i|.ij 
 
 Pet. We durst not go to Bacchus ; for if I see 
 a grape my head akes. 
 
 Erist. And if 1 find a cudgel, I'll make your 
 shoulders ake. 
 
 Mel. And you, Licio, wait on yourself. 
 
 Lie. I cannot choose, sir, I am always so near 
 myself. 
 
 Mel. I'll be as near you as your skin pre- 
 sently. [^Exeunt. 
 
 * This is evidently an allusion to the story of Naaman, the 
 Syrian, in the second book of Kings. The attentive reader of 
 Beaumont and Fletcher's plays will remark, that many of their 
 images are drawn from the same source. ?
 
 A COMEDY. 319. 
 
 ACT III. Scene I. 
 
 Midas, Mellacrites, Martius, w</Eristus. 
 
 Mid. " 111 Pactoliis go bathe thy wish and thee. 
 Thy wish the waves shall have, and thou 
 be free." 
 Miserable Midas, as unadvised in thy wish, as in 
 thy success unfortunate. Oh, unquenchable thirst 
 of gold ! which tumeth men's heads to lead, and 
 makest them blockish ; their hearts to iron, and 
 makest them covetous ; their eyes to delight in 
 the view, and makest them blind in the use. I, 
 that did possess mines of gold, could not be con- 
 tented till my mind were all a mine. Could not 
 the treasure of Phrygia, nor the .tributes of 
 Greece, nor mountains in the East, whose guts 
 are gold, satisfy my mind with gold? Ambition 
 eateth gold and drinketh blood ; clinibeth so high 
 by other men's heads, that she breaketh her own 
 neck. What should I do with a world of ground, 
 whose body must be content with seven feet of 
 earth ? Or why did I covet to get so many crowns, 
 having myself l)ut one head ? Those that took 
 small vessels at the sea I accounted pirates, and 
 myself that suppressed whole fleets, a conqueror; 
 as though robberies of kingdoms Midas might 
 mask under the names of triumphs, and the traffic 
 of other nations be called treachery. Thou hast 
 pampered up thyself with slaughter, as Diomedes
 
 320 MIDAS : 
 
 did his horses with blood ; so unsatiable thy thirst, 
 so heavy thy sword. Two books have I always 
 carried in ray bosom, calling them the dagger and 
 the sword ; in which the names of all princes, 
 noblemen, and gentlemen, were dedicated to 
 slaughter, or if not (what worse is) to slavery. 
 O, my lords, when I call to mind my cruelties in 
 Lycaonia, my usurping in Getulia, my oppres- 
 sion in Sola, then do I find neither mercies in my 
 conquests, nor colour for my w ars, nor measure 
 in my taxes. I have written my laws in blood, 
 and made my gods of gold : I have caused .the 
 mothers' wombs to be their childrens' tombs; 
 cradles to swim in blood like boats, and the 
 temples of the gods a stews * for strumpets* 
 Have not I made the sea to groan under the 
 number of my ships ; and have they not perished, 
 that there was not two left to make a number ? 
 Have I not thrust ray subjects into a camp, like 
 oxen into a cart ; whom having made slaves by 
 unjust wars, I use now as slaves for all wars ? 
 Have not I enticed the subjects of my neighbour 
 princes to destroy their natural kings, like 
 moths that eat the clothes in which they were 
 bred ; like vipers that gnaw the bowels of which 
 they were born ; and like worms that consume 
 the wood in which they were engendered ? To 
 what kingdom have not I pretended claim? as 
 though I had been by the gods created heir ap- 
 parent to the world, making every trifle a title, 
 and all the territories about me traitors to me. 
 
 * " Stews," a brothel. Johnson thinks it questionable if this 
 word has any singular : the use of it here will strengthen that 
 opinion.
 
 A COMEDY. 321 
 
 Why did I wish that all might be gold I touched, 
 but that I thought all flien's hearts would be 
 touched with gold ; that what policy could not 
 compass, nor prowess, gold might have com- 
 manded and conquered. A bridge of gold did 
 I mean to make in that island where all my navy 
 could not make a breach. Those islands did I 
 long to touch, that I might turn them to gold, 
 and myself to glory: but unhappy Midas, who 
 by the same means perisheth himself, that he 
 thought to conquer others ; being now become a 
 shame to the world, a scorn to that petty prince, 
 and to thyself a consumption. A petty prince, 
 Midas ? No, a prince protected by the gods, by 
 nature, by his own virtue, and his subjects* obe- 
 dience. Have not all treasons been discovered 
 by miracle, not council * ? that do the gods chal- 
 lenge. Is not the country walled with huge 
 waves ? that doth nature claim. Is he not through 
 the whole world a wonder, for wisdom and tem- 
 perance? that is his own strength. Do not all 
 his subjects, like bees, swarm to preserve the 
 king of bees ? that their loyalty maintaineth. My 
 lords, I faint both for lack of food and want of 
 
 It has been before observed, that Philip II. of Spain was 
 depicted in the character of Midas: but a few of the preceding 
 and following Hnes evidently allude to James I. whose acces- 
 sion to the crown of England did not take place till after the 
 death of Philip : and as the discovery of the gunpowder plot 
 seems meant by the discovery of all treasons mentioned "in the 
 text, this passage must have been written and added to the ori- 
 ginal piece after the death of both Philip and Elizabeth ; and 
 our poet had probably the honour to set the example, which 
 Shakspeare followed in the celebrated prediction of Cranmer, 
 in his play of Henry VIII. . 
 
 VOL. I. B B
 
 322 MIDAS : 
 
 grace. I will to the river, where, if I be rid of 
 this intolerable disease of gold, I will next shake 
 off that intemperate desire of government, and 
 measure my territories, not by the greatness of 
 my mind, but the right of my succession. 
 
 Mart. I am not a little sorry, that because all 
 that your highness toucheth turneth to pure gold, 
 therefore all your princely affections should be 
 converted to dross. Doth your majesty begin 
 to melt your own crown, that should make it 
 with other monarchies massy? Begin you to 
 make enclosure of your mind, and to debate of 
 inheritance, when the sword proclaims you con- 
 queror ? If your highness' heart be not king- 
 dom proof, every pelting * prince will batter it. 
 Though you lose garish gold, let your mind be 
 still of steel, and let the sharpest sword decide 
 the right of sceptres. 
 
 Mid. Every little king is a king, and the title 
 consisteth oot in the compass of ground, but in 
 the right of inheritance. 
 
 Mart. Are not conquests good titles ? 
 
 Mid. Conquests are great thefts. 
 
 Mart. If your highness would be advised by 
 me, then would I rob for kingdoms ; and if I ob- 
 tained, fain would I see him that durst call the 
 conqueror a thief. 
 
 Mid. Martius, thy counsel hath shed as much 
 blood as would make another sea. Valour I 
 
 * " Pelting," mean, insignificant : so in Act II. Scene II. of 
 " Measure for Measure :" 
 
 " Could great men thunder 
 As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, 
 For every /je/fjwg" petty officer 
 ^ Would use his heaven for thunder." 
 And many other places. ^
 
 A COMEDY. 325 
 
 cannot call it, and barbarousness is a word too 
 mild. Come, Mellacrites, let us go ; and come, 
 you, Eristus, that if I obtain mercy of Bacchus, 
 we may offer sacrifice to Bacchus. Martins, if 
 you be not disposed to go, dispose as you will of 
 yourself. 
 
 Mart. I will humbly attend on your highness, 
 as still hoping to have my heart's desire, and you 
 your height of honour. [Exeunt. 
 
 ^ Scene II. 
 
 Licio and Petulus. 
 
 Pet. Ah, Licio, a bots on the barber; ever 
 since I cozened him of the golden beard I have 
 had the tooth-ake. 
 
 Lie. I think Motto hath poisoned thy gums. 
 
 Pet. It is a deadly pain. 
 
 JLic. I knew a dog run mad with it. 
 
 Pet. I believe it, Licio, and thereof it is that 
 they call it a dogged pain. Thou knowest I 
 have tried all old womens' medicines, and cunning 
 mens' charms, but interim my teeth ake. 
 
 Dello enters behind than. 
 
 Del. I am glad I have heard the wags, to be 
 quittance for over-hearing us. We will take the 
 vantage ; they shall find us quick barbers. I'll 
 tell Motto, my master, and then we will have 
 {juid pro quo, a tooth for a beard. [Exit. 
 
 Pet. Licio, to make me merry, I pray thee go 
 forward with the description of thy mistress : 
 thou must begin now at the paps. 
 
 Lie. Indeed, Petulus, a good beginning for 
 B b2
 
 3f4 MIDAS :* ^ 
 
 thee, for thou canst eat pap now, because thou 
 canst bite nothing else. But I have no mind on 
 those matters. If the king lose his golden wish, 
 we shall have but a brazen court : but what be- 
 came of the beard, Petulus? 
 
 Pet, I have pawned it, for I durst not coin it. , 
 
 Lie. What dost thou pay for the pawning ? 
 
 Pet. Twelve pence in the pound for the month. 
 
 Liic. What for the herbage? 
 
 Pet. It is not at herbage. 
 
 Lie. Yes, Petulus, if it be a beard it must be 
 at herbage, for a beard is a badge of hair; and 
 a badge of hair, hairbadge. 
 
 Miter Motto with Dello. 
 
 Mot. Dello, thou knowest Midas touched his 
 beard and 'twas gold. 
 
 Del. Well. 
 
 Mot. That the pages cozened me of it. 
 
 Del. No lie. 
 
 Mot. That I must be revenged. 
 
 Del. In good time. 
 
 Mot. Thou knowest I have taught thee the 
 knacking of the hands, the tickling on a man's 
 hairs, like the tuning of a cittern *. 
 
 f 
 
 * The cittern was " light and portable like the lute, to which 
 it bore a near resemblance." It is frequently mentioned by the 
 dramatic poets of the time, and is the same, I believe, as the 
 guitar. It was in little estimation, being the usual entertain- 
 ment of persons visiting houses of ill fame, or waiting in the 
 barbers' shops : so in the " Volpone" of Ben Jonson, Act II. 
 Scene V. where Corvine ironically directs his wife to submit to 
 prostitution, he recommends it as a necessary step, 
 
 " Get you a cittern. Lady Vanity." 
 And in Dekker's Second Part of the " Honest Whore," Matheo, 
 in alluding to his wife, calls her 
 
 '* A barber's cittern for every serving man to play upon,"
 
 A COMEDY. 325 
 
 Del True. 
 
 Mot. Besides, I instructed thee in the phrases 
 of our eloquent occupation; as-how, sir, will you 
 be trimmed? will you have your beard like a spade, 
 or a bodkin ? a penthouse on your upper lip, or 
 an alley on your chin? a low curl on your head 
 like a bull, or dangling lock like a spaniel ? your 
 mustachios sharp at the ends, like shoemakers' 
 awls, or hanging down to your mouth like goats' 
 ilakes ? your love-locks * wreathed with a silken 
 twist, or shaggy to fall on your shoulders ? 
 
 Del. I confess you have taught me Tully de 
 oratore, the very art of trimming. 
 
 Mot. Well, for all this I desire no more at thy 
 hands, than to keep secret the revenge I have 
 prepared for the pages. 
 
 Del. Oh, sir, you know I am a barber, and 
 cannot tittle tattle; I am one of those whose 
 tongues are swelled with silence. 
 
 Mot. Indeed thou shouldst be no blab, be- 
 cause a barber, therefore be secret. Was it not 
 a good cure, Dello, to ease the toothake and 
 never touch the tooth ? 
 
 Del. Oh, master, he that is your patient for 
 the toothake, I warrant is patient of all akes. 
 
 Mot. I did but rub his gums, and presently 
 the rheum evaporated. 
 
 * Love-locks are frequently mentioned or alluded to in our 
 ancient dramas, and the fashion is said to have been derived 
 from France. The love-lock was worn on the left side, and was 
 considerably longer than the rest of the hair. King Charles I. 
 and many of his courtiers wore them. In Green's " Quip for an 
 upstart Courtier," it is said, " Will you be Frenchejied with d 
 love-lock down your shoulders wherein you may wear your mis- 
 tress' fiivour," See note in Dodsley's Old Plays.
 
 326 MIDAS I * 
 
 Tac. Deus hone^ is that word come into the 
 barber's bason *. 
 
 ^ Del. Ah, sir, and why not? My master is a 
 barber and a surgeon. 
 
 Lie. In good time. 
 
 Pet. Oh ! Motto, I am almost dead with the 
 toothake, all my gums are swollen, and my teeth 
 stand in my head like thorns. 
 
 3Iot. It may be that it is only the breeding of 
 a beard, and being the first beard, you shall have 
 a hard travail. 
 
 Pet. Old fool, dost thou think hairs will breed 
 in my teeth? 
 
 Mot. As likely, sir, for any thing I know, as 
 on your chin. 
 
 Pet. O teeth ! O torments ! O torments ! O 
 teeth! 
 
 Mot. (Aside.) May I but touch them, Dello, I'll 
 teach his tongue to tell a tale what villany it is to 
 cozen one of a beard ; but stand not thou nigh, 
 for it is odds when he spits, but that all his teeth 
 fly in thy face. 
 
 Lie. Good Motto, give some ease, for at 
 thy coming in I overheard of a cure thou hadst 
 done. 
 
 Pet. My teeth ! I will not have this pain, that's 
 certain. 
 
 Mot. Ah, so did you overhear me, when you 
 cozened me of a beard ; but I forget all. 
 
 Del. My master is mild and merciful ; and 
 
 * Licio expresses surprise at the nse of the word rheum by a 
 low fellow like the barber. From an observation on the use of 
 it, in Act V. by this same Motto, it will appear to have been a 
 " courtly term."
 
 A COMEDY. ^27 
 
 merciful because a barber; for when he liath the 
 throat at command, you know he taketh revenge 
 but on a silly hair. | 
 
 Mot. How now, Petulus, do they still ake? 
 
 Pet. Ah, Motto. 
 
 Mot. Let me rub your gums with this leaf. 
 
 Pet. Do, Motto, and for thy labour I will re- 
 quite thee. (Motto rubs his gums.) Out, rascal ! 
 what hast thou done ? all my nether teeth are 
 loose, and wag like the keys of a pair of vir- 
 ginals *. 
 
 Del. Oh, sir, if you will, I will sing to them, 
 your mouth being the instrument. 
 
 Pet, Do, Dello. 
 
 Del. Out, villain ! thou bitest. I cannot tune 
 these virginal keys. 
 
 Pet. They were the jacks f above. ; the keys 
 beneath were easy. n -Z* 
 
 Del. A bots on your jacks and jaws too. 
 
 Lie. They were virginals of your master's 
 making. 
 
 Pet. O my teeth ! good Motto what will ease 
 my pain ? 
 
 Mot. Nothing in the world, but to let me lay 
 a golden beard to your chin. 
 
 Pet. It is at pawn. 
 
 * A virginal was a kind of small spinnet, called so, says 
 Blount, ifl his " Glossographia," because maids and virgins do 
 most commonly play on them. 
 
 t The jacks are still found in harpsichords; they are short 
 pieces of wood with a slip of quill at the side that in their as- 
 cent strikes the chord, and in their descent, by tvfo small pieces 
 of cloth, stop the vibration.
 
 328 MIDAS : 
 
 Mot. You are like to fetch it out with your 
 teeth, or go without your teeth. 
 
 Pet. Motto, withdraw thyself, it may be thou 
 shalt draw my teeth; attend my resolution. 
 (Motto and Dello retire to the back of the stage.) 
 A doubtful dispute whether I were best to lose 
 my golden beard, or my bone tooth ? Help me, 
 Licio, to determine. 
 
 Ijic. Your teeth ake, Petulus, your beard 
 doth not. 
 
 Pet. Ah ! but, Licio, if I part with my beard, 
 my heart will ake. 
 
 Lie. If your tooth be hollow it must be stopped 
 or pulled out ; and stop it the barber will not, 
 without the beard. 
 
 Pet. My heart is hollow too, and nothing can 
 stop it but gold. 
 
 Lie. Thou canst not eat meat without teeth. 
 
 Pet. Nor buy it without money. 
 
 Lie. Thou mayest get more gold ; if thou lose 
 these, more teeth thou canst not. 
 
 Pet. Ah, but the golden beard will last me 
 ten years in porridge, and then to what use are 
 teeth? 
 
 Lie. If thou want teeth, thy tongue will catch 
 cold. 
 
 Pet. 'Tis true, and if I lack money my whole 
 body may go naked. But, Licio, let the barber 
 have his beard ; I will have a device (by thy help) 
 to get it again, and a cozenage beyond that, 
 maugre his beard. 
 
 Lie. That's the best way, both to ease thy pains 
 and try our wits.
 
 A COMEDY. .329 
 
 Pet. Barber, eleven of my teeth have gone on 
 a jury, to try whether the beard be thine ; they 
 have chosen my tongue for the foreman, which 
 cryeth, guilty. 
 
 Mot. Gilded, nay, boy, all my beard was gold. 
 It was not gilt, 1 will not be so over-matched. 
 
 Del. You cannot pose my master in a beard. 
 Come to his house you shall sit upon twenty; 
 all his cushions are stuft with beards. 
 
 Lie. Let him go home with thee; ease him, 
 and thou shalt have thy beard. 
 
 Mot. 1 am content; but I will have the beard 
 in ray hand, to be sure. 
 
 Pet. And I thy finger in my mouth, to be surie 
 of ease. 
 
 Mot. Agreed. 
 
 Pet. Dello, sing a song to the tune of my 
 teeth do ake. 
 
 Del. I will. 
 
 SONG *. 
 
 Pet. O my teeth ! dear barber ease me. 
 
 Tongue tell me why ray teeth disease me ; 
 Oh ! what will rid me of this pain 1 
 
 * As in " Motlier Bombie" the songs are given from BlountV 
 edition. Of this opportunity I am happy to avail myself to con 
 rect an error into which, it is possible, I may have unintentionally 
 led the reader in the biographical notice of Lyly. Speaking 
 there of Blount, I mention, that Wood says, he was afterwards 
 a knight ; this is correct, and, on the authority of Wood, the 
 error has continued to descend, till in a Canterbury edition (1800) 
 of Phillip's " Theatrura Poetarum Auglicanorum ;" the editor 
 conjectures it might have been Sir Henry Blount, of Titten 
 hanger, the traveller, who was knighted in 1639. Upon the as*
 
 330 MIDAS : 
 
 Mot. Some pelUtory * fetch'd from Spain. 
 Uc. Take mastick f else. 
 Pet. Mastick's a patch : 
 
 Mastick does man;y a fool's face catch. 
 
 If such a pain should breed the horn, 
 
 'Twere happy to be cuckolds bom. 
 
 Should beards with such an ake begin. 
 
 Each boy to th' bone would scrub his chin. 
 hie. His teeth now ake not. 
 ; Mot. Caper then, 
 
 And cry up checker'd-apron men : 
 
 There is no trade but ."haves. 
 
 For barbers are trim knaves ; 
 
 Some are in shaving so profound. 
 
 By tricks they shave a kingdom round. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 SopHRONiA, Cgelia, CamillAj Amerula, and 
 Suavia', 
 
 Sop. Ladies, here must we attend the happy 
 return of my father; but in the mean season 
 what pastime shall we use to pass the time ? I 
 will agree to any, so it be not to talk of love. 
 
 sertion of Wood this conjecture was justifiable, but the fact is, 
 it was Edward Blount, and not Henry as Wood mentions, and no 
 doubt a bookseller, such a one living " over against the great 
 dore of Paules church." If I am correct in this, it will suffici- 
 ently account for the excess in language with which he speaks 
 of Lyly in his preface. 
 
 * It is said the Romans had this root as a pickle, but with us 
 it is never used but for the tooth-ake and rheumatic affections 
 of the face. 
 
 t Licio had before observed that the tooth if hollow should 
 be stopped or pulled out; as gum mastick can only give relief 
 by stopping the hole, and thereby excluding the air from the 
 nerve, it is for this purpose he recommends it. . .
 
 A COMEDY. S^t 
 
 Sua. Then sleep is the best exercise. 
 
 Sop. Why, Suavia, are you so light, that you 
 must chat of love, or, so heavy, that you must 
 needs sleep? Penelope, in the absence of her 
 lord, beguiled the days with spinning. 
 
 Sua. Indeed she spun a fair thread, if it were 
 to make a string to the bow wherein she drew 
 her wooers. 
 
 Sop. Why, Suavia, it was a bow which she 
 knew to be above her strength, and therein she 
 showed her wit *. 
 
 Sua. Qui latus arguerit corneus arcus erat: it 
 was made of horn, madam, and therein she 
 shewed her meaning. 
 
 Sop. Why, dost thou not think she was chaste? 
 
 Sum. Yes, of all her wooers. 
 
 Sop. To talk with thee is to lose time; not 
 well to spend it. How say you, Amerula, what 
 shall we do? s Ai** 
 
 Amer. Tell tales. 
 
 Sop. What say you, Coelia ? 
 
 Ccel. Sing. 
 
 Sop. What think you, Camilla? 
 
 Cam. Dance. 
 
 Sop. You see, Suavia, that there are other 
 things to keep one from idleness, besides love; 
 nay, that there is nothing to make idleness, but 
 love. 
 
 Sua. Well, let me stand by and feed mine own 
 thoughts with sweetness, whilst they fill your eyes 
 and ears with songs and dancing. 
 
 * The allusion is to the bow of Ulysses, which the suitors of 
 Penelope were not able to bend, and which the commentators ott 
 the Odyssey generally suppose was made of horn.
 
 332 MIDAS : 
 
 Sop. Amerula, begin thy tale. 
 
 Amer. There dwelt sometimes in Phrygia a 
 lady very fair, but passing forward, as much 
 marvelled at for beaiity, as for peevishness mis- 
 liked. High she was in the instep, but short in 
 the heel * ; straight laced, but loose bodied. It 
 came to pass that a gentleman, as young in wit 
 as years, and in years a very boy, chanced to 
 glance his eyes on her, and there were they daz- 
 zled with her beauty, as larks that are caught in 
 the sun with the glittering of a glass. In her fair 
 looks were his thoughts entangled, like the birds 
 of Canary, that fall into a silken net : doat he 
 did without measure, and die he must without 
 her love. She on the other side, as one that 
 knew her good, began to look askance, yet felt 
 the passions of love eating into her heart, though 
 she dissembled them with her eyes. 
 
 Sua. Ha, ha, he! , ' 
 
 ...V i. : .^ 
 
 Sop. Why laughest thou ? 
 
 Sua. To see you, madam, so tame as to be 
 brought to hear a tale of love, that before were so 
 wild, you would not come to the name ; and 
 that Amerula could devise how to spend the 
 time with a tale, only that she might not talk of 
 love, and now to make love only her tale. 
 
 Sop. Indeed I was overshot in judgment, and 
 she in discretion. Amerula, another tale or none, 
 this is too lovely. 
 
 Sua. Nay, let me hear any woman tell a tale 
 of ten lines long without it tend to love, and I 
 
 * Amerula insinuates that the lady was wanton : Sue Short- 
 heels is the name of a strumpet, in the " Match at Midnight" 
 of Rowleys.
 
 A COMEDY. 333 
 
 will be bound never to come at the court. And 
 you, Camilla, that would fain trip on your petty- 
 toes, can you persuade me to take delight to 
 dance and not love? or you that cannot rule 
 your feet, can guide your affections, having the 
 one as unstaid as the other unsteady ? dancing 
 is love sauce, therefore I dare be so saucy, as if 
 you love to dance, to say you dance for love. 
 But, Ccfilia, she will sing, whose voice, if it 
 should utter thoughts, would make the tune of a 
 heart out of tune. She that hath crotchets in her 
 head, hath also love conceits. I dare swear she 
 harpeth not only on plain song * ; and before you 
 (Sophronia) none of them all use plain deal- 
 ing; but because they see you so curious they 
 frame themselves counterfeit. For myself, as I 
 know honest love to be a thing inseparable from 
 our sex, so do I think it most allowable in the 
 court ; unless we would have all our thoughts 
 made of church-work, and so carry a holy face, 
 and a hollow heart. 
 
 Sop. Ladies, how like you Suavia in her lov- 
 ing vein ? 
 
 Ccel. We are content at this time to sooth her 
 m her vanity. y 
 
 Amer. She casts all our minds in the mould 
 of her own head, and yet erreth as far from our 
 meanings, as she doth from her own modesty. 
 
 Sua. Amerula, if you were not bitter, your 
 
 * Plain song is said by Stevens, in a note on Damon and 
 Pithias, to be uniform modulation in music, as distinguished 
 firom descant, which is musical paraphrase. The subject of a 
 fugue or any simple melody is an instance of the first, the varia- 
 tions of the other.
 
 334 MIDAS : 
 
 name had been ill bestowed ; but I think it as 
 lawful in the court to be counted loving and 
 chaste, as you in the temple to seem religious 
 and be spiteful. 
 
 Cam. I marvel you will reply any more, Ame- 
 rula, her tongue is so nimble it will never lie 
 still. 
 
 Sua. The liker thy feet, Camilla, which were 
 taught not to stand still. 
 
 Sop. So, no more, ladies : let our coming to 
 sport not turn to spite. Love thou, Suavia, if 
 thou think it sweet: sing thou, Coelia, for thine 
 own content : tell thou tales ; and dance thou, 
 Camilla: and so every one using her own de- 
 light shall have no cause to be discontent. 
 But here cometh Martins and the rest. 
 
 Enter Martius, Mellacrites, and others. 
 
 What news, Martius, of my sovereign and fa- 
 ther, Midas? 
 
 Mart, Madam, he no sooner bathed his limbs 
 in the river, but it turned to a golden stream, the 
 sands to fine gold, and all to gold that was cast 
 into the water. Midas, dismayed at the sudden 
 alteration, assayed again to touch a stone, but he 
 could not alter the nature of the stone. Then 
 went we with him to tlie temple of Bacchus, 
 where we offered a lance wreathed about with 
 ivy ; garlands of ripe grapes, and skins of wolves 
 and panthers ; and a groat standing cup of the 
 water, which so lately was turned to gold. 
 Bacchus accepted our gifts, commanding Midas 
 to honour the gods, and also in wishing to be as 
 wise, as he meant to have made him fortunate.
 
 A COMEDY. 335 
 
 Sop. Happy Sophronia, that hast lived to hear 
 this news, and happy Midas, if thou live better 
 to govern thy fortune. But what -is become of 
 our king? 
 
 Mel. Midas, overjoyed with his good fortune, 
 determined to use some solace in the woods; 
 where by chance we roused a great boar; he, 
 eager of the sport, outrid us ; and we, thinking 
 he had been come to his palace some other way, 
 came ourselves the next way. If he be not re- 
 turned he cannot be long ; we have also lost our 
 pages, which we think are with him. 
 
 Sop. The gods shield him from all harms ! the 
 woods are full of tigers, and he of courage : wild 
 beasts make no difference between a king and a 
 clown ; nor hunters in the heat of their pastime 
 fear no more the fierceness of the boar, than the 
 fearfulness of the hare. But I hope well ; let us 
 in to see all well. {^Exeunt.
 
 336 MIDAS : 
 
 ACT IV. Scene I. 
 
 Apollo, Pan, and Nymphes. 
 
 ApoL Pan, wilt thou contend with Apollo^ 
 who tunes the heavens, and makes them all hang 
 by harmony*? Orpheus, that caused trees to 
 move with the sweetness of his harp, offereth 
 yearly homage to my lute : so doth Arion, that 
 brought dolphins to his sugared notes ; and Am- 
 phion, that by music reared the walls of Thebes. 
 Only Pan with his harsh whistle (which makes 
 beasts shake for fear, not men dance for joy) 
 seeks to compare with Apollo. 
 
 Pan. Pan is a god, Apollo is no more : com- 
 parisons cannot be odious, where the deities are 
 equal. This pipe (my sweet pipe) was once a 
 nymph, a fair nymph j" ; once my lovely mistress, 
 now my heavenly music. Tell me, Apollo, is 
 there any instrument so sweet to play on, as 
 one's mistress ? Had thy lute been of laurel, 
 and the strings of Daphne's hair, thy tunes might 
 have been compared to my notes; for then 
 
 * Perhaps it is superfluous to observe that this is an allusion to 
 the beautiful doctrine of Pythagoras ; from which Milton has 
 drawn some of his most exquisite passages, and which Butler 
 ridicules in the following lines : 
 
 " The music of the spheres. 
 So loud it deafens mortal ears, 
 As wise philosophers have thought. 
 And that's the cause we hear it not." 
 t Syrinx, who was changed into a bundle of reeds.
 
 A COMEDY. 387 
 
 Daphne would have added to thy stroke sweet- 
 ness, and to thy thoughts melody. 
 
 Apol. Doth Pan talk of the passions of love? 
 of the passions of divine love? Oh! how that 
 word, Daphne, wounds Apollo, pronounced by 
 the barbarous mouth of Pan. I fear his breath 
 will blast the fair green, if I dazzle not his eyes, 
 that he may not behold it. Thy pipe a nymph ? 
 some hag rather, haunting these shady groves, 
 and desiring not thy love, but the fellowship of 
 such a monster. What god is Pan, but the god 
 of beasts, of woods, of hills? excluded from hea- 
 ven, and in earth not honoured. Break thy pipe, 
 or with my sweet lute will I break thy heart. 
 Let not love enter into those savage lips ; a word 
 for Jove, for Apollo, for the heavenly gods, 
 whose thoughts are gods, and gods are all love. 
 
 Pan. Apollo, I told thee before that Pan was 
 a god ; I tell thee now again as great a god as 
 Apollo, I had almost said a greater ; and because 
 thou shalt know T care not to tell my thoughts, I 
 say a greater. Pan feels the passions of love 
 deeply engraven in his heart, with as fair nymphs, 
 with as great fortune, as Apollo, as Neptune, as 
 Jove ; and better than Pan can none describe 
 love. Not Apollo, not Neptune, not Jove. My 
 temple is in Arcadia, where they burn continual 
 flames to Pan. In Arcadia is mine oracle, where 
 Erato, the nymph, giveth answers for Pan. In 
 Arcadia, the place of love, is the honour of Pan. 
 Ah, but I am god of hills ! so I am, Apollo, and 
 
 The laurel into which Daphne, the mistress of Apollo, was 
 turned. 
 
 VOL. I. C C
 
 338 MIDAS : 
 
 tliat of hills so high, as I can pry into the jug- 
 gling of the highest gods. Of woods ! So I am, 
 Apollo, of woods so thick, that thou with thy 
 beams canst not pierce them. I knew Apollo 
 prying, I knew mine own jealousy. Sun and 
 shadow cozen one another. Be thou sun still, 
 the shadow is fast at thy heels, Apollo. Ah, as 
 near to thy love, as thou to mine. A carter with 
 his whistle and his whip, in true ears, moves as 
 much as Phoebus with his fiery chariot and 
 winged horses. Love-leaves are as well for 
 country porridge, as heavenly nectar. Love 
 made Jupiter a swan*, and Neptune a swine, and 
 both for love of an earthly mistress. What hath 
 made Pan, or any god on earth (for gods on 
 earth can change their shapes), turn themselves 
 for an heavenly goddess? Believe me, Apollo, 
 our groves are pleasanter than your heavens, our 
 milk-maids than your goddesses, our rude ditties 
 to a pipe, than your sonnets to a lute. Here 
 is flat faith amo amas ; where you cry, O 
 vtinam amarent vel non amassem. I let pass, 
 Apollo, thy hard words as calling Pan monster ; 
 which is as much as to call all monsters: for 
 Pan is allf, Apollo but one. But touch thy 
 strings, and let these nymphs decide. 
 
 Apol. Those nymphs shall decide, unless thy 
 rude speech have made them deaf: as for any 
 other answer to Pan, take this : that it becometh 
 
 * The original has it goose ; but as Lyly was extremely well 
 skilled in the heathen mythology, he must here, I think, allude 
 to the story of Leda; I have therefore presumed on the alle- 
 ration. 
 
 t This alludes to the original meaning of the word Pan.
 
 A COMEDY. 339 
 
 not Apollo to answer Pan. Pan is all, and all 
 is Pan ; thou art Pan and all, all pan and tin- 
 kerly*. But to this music, wherein all thy 
 shame shall be seen, and all my skill. 
 
 Enter Midas. 
 
 Mid. In the chase I lost all my company, and 
 missed the game too ; I think Midas shall in all 
 things be unfortunate. 
 
 Apol. What is he that talketh ? 
 
 Mid. Midas, the unfortunate King of Phrygia. 
 
 Apol. To be a king is next to being a god. 
 Thy fortune is not bad ; what is thy folly ? 
 
 Mid. To abuse a god. 
 
 Apol. An ungrateful part of a king. But, 
 Midas, seeing by chance thou art come, or sent 
 by some god of purpose ; none can in the earth 
 better judge of gods than kings. Sit down with 
 these nymphs. I am Apollo, this Pan, both 
 gods. We contend for sovereignty in music. 
 Seeing it happens in earth, we must be judged 
 of those on earth ; in which there are none more 
 worthy than kings and nymphs : therefore give 
 ear that thy judgment err not. 
 
 Mid. If gods you be, although I dare wish no- 
 thing of gods, being so deeply wounded with 
 wishing, yet let my judgment prevail before these 
 nymphs, if we agree not, because I am a king. 
 
 Pan. There must be no condition, but judge 
 Midas, and judge nymphs. 
 
 * If Apollo played not on the lute better than he plays on 
 words, many would have decided with Midas. 
 
 C C 2
 
 340 MIDAS : 
 
 Apol. Then thus I begin both my song and 
 my play. 
 
 [^A Song of Daphne to the lute. 
 
 My Daphne's hair is twisted gold. 
 Bright stars a-piece her eyes do hold. 
 My Dapline's brow enthrones the graces, 
 My Daphne's beauty stains all faces. 
 On Daphne's cheek grow rose and cherry. 
 On Daphne's lip a sweeter berry ; 
 My Daphne's hand * but touch'd does melt. 
 And then no heavenlier warmth is felt ; 
 My Daphne's voice tunes all the spheres. 
 My Daphne's music charms all ears ; 
 Fond am I thus to sing her praise. 
 These glories now are turn'd to Bays. 
 
 Erat. O divine Apollo ! O sweet consent f ! 
 
 Tha. If the god of music should not be above 
 our reach, who should ? 
 
 Mid. I like it not. 
 
 Pan. Now let me tune my pipes. I cannot 
 pipe and sing, that's the odds in the instrument, 
 not the art ; but I will pipe and then sing, and 
 then judge both of the art and instrument. 
 
 [He pipes and then sings. 
 
 * In the original it runs, " Daphne's snowy hand ;" but as 
 Lyly's songs are extremely correct as to measure, I cannot but 
 think this line corrupted, and have altered it accordingly. 
 
 t By consent is meant the harmony resulting from the union 
 of the sounds of Apollo's voice and of his lute. Stevens, in a 
 note on the " First Part of Henry VI." quotes several instances of 
 this use of the word, and observes it should be spelt concent. 
 So Spenser in his translation of Virgil's Culex : 
 
 " Chaunted their sundry notes with sweet concent."
 
 A COMEDY. , 341 
 
 Pan's Syrinx was a girl indeed, 
 Though now she's turn'd into a reed ; 
 From that dear reed Pan's pipe does come, 
 A pipe that strikes Apollo dumb ; 
 Nor flute, nor lute, nor gittem * can. 
 So chant it as the pipe of Pan : 
 Cross-garter'd swains and dairy girls. 
 With faces smug, and round as pearls ; 
 When Pan's shrill pipe begins to play. 
 With dancing wear out night and day : 
 The bag-pipe's drone his hum lays by. 
 When Pan sounds up his minstrelsy ; 
 His minstrelsy ! O base ! This quill. 
 Which, at my mouth, with wind I fill. 
 Puts me in mind, though her I miss. 
 That still my Syrinx lips I kiss. 
 
 Apol. Hast thou done, Pan ? 
 
 Pan. Aye, and done well, as I think. 
 
 Apol. Now, nymphs, what say you? 
 
 Erat. We all say that Apollo hath shewed 
 himself both a god, and of music the god. Pan 
 himself a rude satyr, neither keeping measure 
 nor time ; his piping as far out of tune, as his 
 body out of form. To thee, divine Apollo, we 
 give the prize and reverence. 
 
 Apol. But what says Midas? 
 
 Mid. Methinks there's more sweetness in the 
 pipe of Pan than Apollo's lute : I brook not 
 that nice tickling of strings ; that contents me, 
 that makes one start. What a shrillness came into 
 mine ears out of that pipe, and what a goodly 
 
 * The cittern, I have before observed, was the usual entertain- 
 ment of persons waiting in barber's shops. The gittern was the 
 same instrument. So in Lord Falkland's " Marriage Night :" 
 
 " He has travelled, and speaks languages 
 As a barber's boy plays o' th' gittem.
 
 342 MIDAS : 
 
 noise it made. Apollo, I must needs judge that 
 Pan deserveth most praise. 
 
 Pan. Blessed be Midas, worthy to be a god : 
 these girls, whose ears do but itch with dainti- 
 ness, gave the verdict without weighing the vir- 
 tue; they have been brought np in chambers 
 with soft music, not where I make the woods 
 ring with my pipe, Midas. 
 
 Apol. Wretch, unworthy to be a king, thou 
 shalt know what it is to displease Apollo. I will 
 leave thee but the two last letters of thy name, 
 to be thy whole name; which if thou canst not 
 guess, touch thine ears, they shall tell thee. 
 
 Mid. What hast thou done, Apollo ? the ears 
 of an ass upon the head of a king ? 
 
 Apol. And well worthy, when the dullness of 
 an ass is in the ears of a king. 
 
 Mid. Help, Pan, or Midas perisheth. 
 
 Pan. I cannot undo what Apollo hath done ; 
 nor give thee any amends, unless to those ears 
 thou wilt have added these horns *. 
 
 1 Nym. It were very well, that it might be 
 hard to judge whether he were more ox or ass. 
 
 Apol. Farewell, Midas. 
 Pan. Midas, farewell. 
 
 2 Nym. I warrant they be dainty ears, nothing 
 can please them but Pan's pipe. ' 
 
 Erat. He hath the advantage of all ears, ex- 
 cept the mouse ; for else there's none so sharp 
 of hearing as the ass. Farewell, Midas. 
 
 2 Nym. Midas, farewell. 
 
 3 iVym. Farewell, Midas. 
 
 * Pan is represented with horns, and here, no doubt, points 
 to them.
 
 ^ A COMEDY. 343 
 
 Mid. Ah! Midas, why was not thy whole 
 body metamorphosed, that there might have 
 been no part left of Midas ? Where shall I shrowd 
 this shame ? or how may I be restored to mine 
 old shape? Apollo is augry : blame not Apollo, 
 whom, being god of music, thou didst both dis- 
 like and dishonour: preferring the barbarous 
 noise of Pan's pipe, before the sweet melody of 
 Apollo's lute. If I return to Phrygia, I shall be 
 pointed at ; if 1 live in these woods, savage beasts 
 must be ray companions : and what other com- 
 panions should Midas hope for than beasts, being 
 of all beasts himself the dullest? Had it not 
 been better for thee to have perished by a golden 
 death, than now to lead a beastly life? Unfortu- 
 nate in thy wish, unwise in thy judgment ; first 
 a golden fool, now a leaden ass. What will they 
 say in Lesbos ? (if haply this news come to 
 Lesbos.) If they come, Midas ? Yes, report flies 
 as swift as thoughts, gathering wings in the air, 
 and doubling rumours by her own running; in- 
 somuch, as having here the ears of an ass, it will 
 be told, all my hairs are ass's ears. Then will 
 this be the bye-word : " Is Midas, that sought lo 
 be monarch of the world, become the mock of 
 the world ? Are his golden mines turned into 
 water, as free for every one that will fetch, as 
 for himself that possessed them by wish ? Ah, 
 poor Midas, are his conceits become blockish, ^ 
 his counsels unfortunate, his judgments unskil- 
 ful?" Ah, foolish Midas, a just reward, for thy 
 pride to wax poor, for thy overweening to wax || 
 dull, for thy ambition to'-wax humble, for thy 
 cruelty to say, Sisq' miser semper^ nee sis misera-
 
 544 MIDAS : A' 
 
 bills ulli. But I must seek to cover my shame 
 by art, lest being once discovered to those petty 
 kings of Mysia, Pisidia, and Galatia, they all 
 join to add to mine ass's ears, of all the beasts 
 the dullest, a sheep's heart, of all the beasts the 
 fearfulest ; and so cast lots for those kingdoms, 
 that I have won with so many lives, and kept 
 with so many envies. [^Exit. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 tJEmter Menalcas, Corvn, Celthus, Driapon, 
 and Amyntas. 
 
 Meii. I muse what the nymphs meant, that so 
 sang in the groves, " Midas, of Phrygia, hath 
 ass's ears." 
 
 Cor. I marvel not, for one of them plainly told 
 me he had ass's ears. 
 
 Celt. Ah, but it is not safe to say it ; he is a 
 great king, and his hands are longer than his 
 ears ; therefore for us that keep sheep, it is wis- 
 dom enough to tell sheep. i^*. *- . >v 
 
 Dria. 'Tis true ; yet since Midas grew so mis- 
 chievous, as to blurr his diadem with blood, 
 which should glister with nothing but pity ; and 
 so miserable, that he made gold his god, that 
 was framed to be his slave, many broad speeches 
 tave flown abroad : in his own country they 
 stick not to call him tyrant, and elsewhere 
 usurper. They flatly say, that he eateth into 
 other dominions, as the sea doth into the land, not 
 knowing that in swallowing a poor island as big 
 as Lesbos, he may cast up three territories thrice
 
 A COMEDY. 345 
 
 as big as Phrygia : for what the sea winneth in 
 the marsh, it loseth in the sand. 
 
 Amyn. Take me with yon, but speak softly, 
 for these reeds may have ears, and hear us. 
 
 Men. Suppose they have, yet they may be 
 without tongues to bewray us. 
 
 Cor. Nay, let them have tongues too, we hare 
 eyes to see that they have none ; and therefore 
 if they hear and speak, they know not from 
 whence it comes. 
 
 Amyn. Well, then this I say ; when a lion 
 doth so much degenerate from princely kind, 
 that he will borrow of the beasts, I say he is no 
 lion, but a monster ; pieced with the craftiness 
 of the fox, the cruelty of the tiger, the ravening 
 of the wolf, the dissembling of the hyena, he is 
 worthy also to have the ears of an ass. 
 
 Men. He seeks to conquer Lesbos, and like a 
 foolish gamester, having a bag full of his own, 
 ventures it all to win a groat of another. 
 
 Cor. He that fishes for Lesbos, must have 
 such a wooden net, as all the trees in Phrygia 
 will not servft to make the cod, nor all the woods 
 in Pisidia provide the corks *. 
 
 Driap. Nay, he means to angle for it with an 
 hook of gold, and a bait of gold, and so to strike 
 the fish with a pleasing bait, that will slide out 
 of an open net. 
 
 Amyji. Tush, tush ; those islanders are too 
 
 * The cod of a net is, I believe, a bag at the end, in which it is 
 usual to place a stone to sink it ; but the corks are to keep the 
 upper part floating, and Pisidia might have been unous for these 
 trees : the passage is, I am aware, still unintelligible. 
 

 
 346 MIDAS :=. 
 
 subtle to nibble at craft, and too rich to swallow 
 treasure: if that be his hope, he may as well 
 dive to the bottom of the sea, and bring up an 
 anchor of a thousand weight, as plod with his 
 gold to corrupt a people so wise ; and, besides, 
 a nation (as I have heard) so valiant, that are 
 readier to strike than ward. 
 
 Cel. More than all this, Amyntas (though we 
 dare not so much as mutter it), their king is such 
 a one as dazzleth the clearest eyes with majesty, 
 daunteth the valiantest hearts with courage, and 
 for virtue filleth all the world with wonder. If 
 beauty go beyond sight, confidence above valour, 
 and virtue exceed miracle, what is it to be 
 thought, but that Midas goeth to undermine that 
 by the simplicity of man, that is fastened to a 
 rock, by the providence of the gods. 
 
 Men. We poor commons (who, tasting war, 
 are made to relish nothing but taxes) can do 
 nothing but grieve, to see things unlawful prac- 
 tised, to obtain things impossible. All his mines 
 do but gild his comb, to make it glister in the 
 wars, and cut ours that are forced to follow him 
 in his wars. 
 
 or. Well, that must be borne, not blamed, 
 that cannot be changed : for my part, if I may 
 enjoy the fleece of my silly flock with quietness, 
 1 w ill never care three flocks * for his ambition. 
 ^ Men. Let this suifice ; we may talk too much, 
 and, being overheard, be all undone. I am so 
 jealous, that methinks the very reeds bow down, 
 
 * Flock has here a more confined sense than the preceding, 
 meaning a single lock of wool.
 
 A COMEDY. 347 
 
 as though they listened to our talk : and soft, I 
 hear some coming, let us in, and meet at a place 
 more meet. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 Licio, Petulus, Minutius, and Huntsman. 
 
 Lie. Is not hunting a tedious occupation ? 
 
 Pet. Aye, and troublesome ; for if you call a 
 dog a dog, you are nndone *. 
 
 Hunts. You be both fools, and besides base- 
 minded; bunting is for kings, not peasants. Such 
 as you are unworthy to be hounds, much less 
 huntsmen, that know not when a hound is fleet, 
 fair flewed f, and well hanged J, being ignorant of 
 the deepness of a hound's mouth, and the sweet- 
 ness . 
 
 Min. Why, I hope, sir, a cur's mouth is no 
 deeper than the sea, nor sweeter than a honey- 
 comb. 
 
 * Petulus means here that it is troublesome to speak in the 
 idiomatic language of sportsmen, and yet necessary if you would 
 pass for one. 
 
 t " Fair flewed," well chapped. 
 
 X A passage in " Midsummer Night's Dream" clearly explains 
 this. 
 
 " My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind. 
 So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung 
 With ears that sweep away the morning dew." 
 A deep toned hollow cry, is considered an almost certain in- 
 dication of a good hound ; the sweetness of it depends on the 
 taste of the individual, but is a common phrase among hunts- 
 men. So in the continuation of the passage just quoted from 
 " Midsummer Night's Dream :" 
 
 " Matched in mouth like hells 
 Each under each. A cry more tuneable 
 Was never hallow'd to, nor cheer'd with horn."
 
 948 MIDAS : 
 
 Hunts. Pretty coxcomb ; a hound will swal- 
 low thee, as easily as a great pit a small pebt 
 ble. I 
 
 Min. Indeed hunting were a pleasant sport, 
 but the dogs make such barking, that one can- 
 not hear the hounds cry. 
 
 Hunts. I'll make thee cry. If I catch thee in 
 the forest thou shalt be leasht *. 
 
 Mm. What's that? 
 
 Lie. Dost thou not understand their Ian-* 
 guage? 
 
 Min. Not I. 
 
 Pet. 'Tis the best calamancef in the world, as 
 easily deciphered as the characters in a nutmeg.; 
 
 Min. I pray thee speak some. . ,> 
 
 Pet. I will. 
 
 Hunts. But speak in order, or I'll pay you. . 
 
 Lie. To it, Petulus. 
 
 Pet. There was a boy leasht on the single, 
 because when he was imbost he took soil. 
 
 Lie. What's that ? 
 
 * I have preserved the reading of the quarto, although xtltered 
 to lash, so early as in Blount's edition ; but this latter word, 
 says Johnson, is of doubtful origin, and I think it may be traced 
 evidently enough from leash, which is then correct. The leash 
 was a leathern thong ; with this sportsmen held in their dogs, as 
 appears from Henry V. 
 
 " And at his heels "%. 
 
 Leasht in like hounds." J* 
 
 This, therefore, when the dogs were disobedient, was an excel- 
 lent instrument to flog them, and always at hand. Leash has 
 the same meaning as slips, which occurs more than once in 
 Shakspeare, and among others in Act III. Scene I. of the same 
 play: 
 
 " I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 
 
 Straining upon the start." 
 
 t I do not remember any authority for this word.
 
 A COMEDY. 349 
 
 ^^Pet. Why, a boy was beaten on the tail with 
 a leathern thong, because when he foamed at the 
 mouth with running he went into the water. 
 
 Hunts. This is worse than fustian, mum you 
 were best. Hunting is an honourable pastime, 
 and for my part, I had as lief hunt a deer in a 
 park, as court a lady in a chamber. 
 
 Min. Give me a pasty for a park, and let me 
 shake off a whole kennel of teeth for hounds, 
 then shalt thou see a notable champing; after 
 that will I carouse a bowl of wine, and so in the 
 stomach let the venison take soil. 
 
 Lie. He hath laid the plot to be prudent; 
 why, 'tis pasty crust, eat enough and it will 
 make you wise, an old proverb. 
 
 Pet. Ah, and eloquent, for you must tipple 
 wine freely, et fcecundi calices quern non fecere 
 disertum ? 
 
 Hunts. Fecere dizardum, leave off these toys, 
 and let us seek out Midas, whom we lost in 
 the chase. 
 
 Pet. I'll warrant he hath by this started a 
 covey of bucks, or roused a scull of pheasants *. 
 
 Hunts. Treason to two brave sports, hawking 
 and hunting : thou shouldst say, start a hare, 
 rouse the deer, spring the partridge. 
 
 Pet. I'll warrant that was devised by some 
 country swad^, that seeing a hare skip up, which 
 
 * The language of Petulus is intentionally erroneous. Scull 
 had the same meaning as shoal, and like it was applied only to 
 fish. 
 
 t Country swad means a young country booby, one whose 
 judgment is immature. The pods of pease when they are first 
 formed, and before they are filled with the pulse, or when the 
 peas are taken out, were, and are still iu the north, called steads.
 
 350 MIDAS : 
 
 made him start, he presently said he started the 
 hare. * 
 
 hie. Aye, and some lubber lying beside a spring, 
 and seeing a partridge come by, said he did 
 spring the partridge. 
 
 Hunts. Well, remember all this. 
 
 Pet. Remember all ? nay, then had we good 
 memories, for there be more phrases than thou 
 hast hairs. But let me see, I pray thee what's 
 this about thy neck ? 
 
 Hunts. A bugle. 
 
 Pet. If it had stood on thy head I should 
 have called it a horn. Well, 'tis hard to have 
 one's brows embroidered with a bugle. 
 
 Lie. But canst thou blow it? 
 
 flunts. Wliat else ? 
 ' Min. But not away. 
 
 Pet. No 'twill make Boreas out of breath, to 
 blow his horns away. 
 
 Lie. There was good blowing, I'll warrant, 
 before they came there. 
 
 Pet. Well, 'tis a shrewd blow. - 
 'JSunts. Spare your winds in this, or I'll winde 
 your necks in a cord ; but soft, I heard my mas- 
 ter's blast. 
 
 Min. Some have felt it. 
 . Hunts. Thy mother, when such a fly-blow was 
 buzzed out ; but I must be gone, I perceive Midas 
 is come. [Exit. 
 
 Lie. Then let not us tarry, for now shall we 
 shave the barber's house. The world will grow 
 full of wiles, seeing Midas hath lost his golden 
 wish. 
 
 Min. I care not, my head shall dig devices.
 
 A COMEDY. 351 
 
 and my tongue stamp them ; so as my mouth 
 shall be a mint, and my brains a mine. 
 
 Lie. Then help us to cozen the barber. 
 ? Min. The barber shall know every hair of my 
 chin to be as good as a choke pear for his purse. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 Mellacrites, Martius, and Eristus. 
 
 Erist. I marvel what Midas meaneth to be so 
 melancholy since his hunting. 
 
 Mel. It is a good word in Midas, otherwise I 
 should term it in another blockishness. I can- 
 not tell whether it be a sourness commonly inci- 
 dent to age, or a severeness particular to the 
 kings of Phrygia, or a suspicion cleaving to great 
 estates ; but methinks he seemeth so jealous of 
 us all, and becomes so overthwart to all others, 
 that either I must conjecture his wits are not his 
 own, or his meaning very hard to some. 
 
 Mart. For my part I neither care nor wonder; 
 I see all his expeditions for wars are laid in 
 water ; for now when he should execute, he be- 
 gins to consult ; and suffers the enemies to bid 
 us good morrow at our own doors*, to whom we 
 long since might have given the last good night 
 in their own beds. He weareth (I know not 
 whether for warmth or wantonness) a great tiara 
 on his head, as though his head were not heavy 
 enough, unless he loaded it with great rolls : an 
 
 * Our poet probably alludes here to the capture of Cadiz, by 
 the Earl of Essex, in 1696.
 
 35S MIDAS : 
 
 attire never used (that I could hear of) but of 
 old women, or pelting priests. This will make 
 Pisidia wanton, Lycaonia stiff, all his territories 
 wavering; and he that hath coutched so many 
 kingdoms in one crown, will have his kingdom 
 scattered into as many crowns as he possesseth 
 countries. I will rouse him up, and if his ears 
 be not ass's ears I will make them tingle. I re- 
 spect not my life ; I know it is my duty, and 
 certainly I dare swear war is my profession. 
 
 Erist. Martins, we will all join ; and though I 
 have been (as, in Phrygia, they term it) a brave 
 courtier ; that is (as they expound it) a fine lover, 
 yet will I set both aside, love and courting, and 
 follow Marti us; for never shall it be said, Bella 
 gerant alii, semper Eristus amet. 
 
 Mel. And I, Martins, that honoured gold for 
 a god, and accounted all other gods but lead, 
 will follow Martins and say, Vilius argentum est 
 auro, virtutibus aurum. 
 
 Mart. My lords, I give you thanks, and am 
 glad; for there are no stouter soldiers in the 
 world, than those that are made of lovers, nor 
 any more liberal in wars, than they that in peace 
 have been covetous : then doubt not if courage 
 and coin can prevail, but we shall prevail ; and 
 besides, nothing can prevail but fortune. But 
 here comes Sophronia, I will first talk with her. 
 
 Enter Sophronia, Camilla, awrf Amerula. 
 
 Madam, either our king hath no ears to hear, or 
 no care to consider, both in what state we stand, 
 being his subjects, and what danger he is in be- 
 ing our king : duty is not regarded ; courage 
 
 f
 
 A COMEDY. 353 
 
 contemned : altogether careless of us, and his 
 own safety. 
 
 Sop. Martins, I mislike not thy plain dealing : 
 but pity my father's trance ; a trance I must .call 
 that, where nature cannot move, nor council, nor 
 music, nor physic, nor danger, nor death, nor alL 
 But that which maketh me most both to sorrow 
 and wonder, is that music (a mithridate * for me- 
 lancholy) should make him mad ; crying still, 
 uno namque modo Pan et Apollo nocent. None 
 hath access to him but Motto, as though melan- 
 choly were to be shaven with a razor, not cured 
 with medicine. But stay, what noise is this in 
 those reeds ? 
 
 Mel. What sound is this? Who dares utter 
 what he hears ? 
 
 Sop. I dare, Mellacrites ; the words are plain, 
 " Midas, the king, hath ass's ears." 
 
 Cam. This is strange, and yet to be told the 
 king. 
 
 Sop. So dare I, Camilla ; for it concerneth me 
 in duty, and us all in discretion. But soft, let 
 us hearken better. 
 
 The Reeds. Midas, of Phrygia, hath ass's ears. 
 
 Erist. This is monstrous, and either portends 
 some mischief to the king, or unto the state con- 
 fusion. " Midas, of Phrygia, hath ass's ears !" 
 It is impossible; let us with speed to the king to 
 know his resolution, for to some oracle he must 
 send. Till his majesty be acquainted with this 
 
 * A mithridate was a sovereign panacea in those times, com- 
 posed of innumerable ingredients, and whose supposed virtues 
 are not yet quite forgotten, as I am informed apothecaries are 
 now sometimes asked for it. 
 
 VOL. I. D D
 
 354 MIDAS : 
 
 matter, we dare not root out the reeds; him- 
 self must both hear the sound, and guess at the 
 reason. 
 
 Sop. Unfortunate Midas, that being so great a 
 king, there should out of the earth spring so 
 great a shame. 
 
 Mart. It may be that his wishing for gold, 
 being but dross of the world, is by all the gods 
 accounted foolish, and so discovered out of the 
 earth : for a king to thirst for gold instead of ho- 
 nour, to prefer heaps of worldly coin before 
 triumphs in warlike conquests, was in my mind 
 no princely niind. 
 
 Mel. Let us not debate the cause, but seek to 
 prevent the snares, for in my mind it foretelleth 
 that which woundeth my mind. Let us in. 
 
 [Exeunt.
 
 A COMEDY. 355 
 
 ACT V. Scene I. 
 Midas, Sophronia, Mellacrites, and Mar- 
 
 TIUS. 
 
 Mid. Sophronia, thou seest I am become a 
 shame to the world and a wonder. Mine ears 
 glow. Mine ears ! ah, miserable Midas ! to 
 have such ears as make thy cheeks blush, thy 
 head monstrous, and thy heart desperate. Yet 
 in blushing I am impudent, for I walk in the 
 streets ; in deformity I seem comely, for I have 
 left off my tiara; and my heart, the more heavy 
 it is for grief, the more hope it conceiveth of re- 
 covery. 
 
 Sop. Dread sovereign and loving sire, there 
 are nine days past, and therefore the wonder is 
 past* ; there are many years to come, and there- 
 fore a remedy to be hoped for. Though your 
 ears be long, yet is there room left on your head 
 for a diadem : though they resemble the ears of 
 the dullest beast, yet should they not daunt the 
 spirit of so great a kmg. The gods dally with 
 men, kings are no more: they disgrace kings, 
 lest they should be thought gods: sacrifice pleas- 
 
 * Nine days wonder is a proverbial expression well enough 
 known. So Shakspeare, in the " Third Part of Henry V." 
 " Glo. That would be ten days wonder at the least. 
 Clar. That's a day longer than a wonder lasts." 
 D d2
 
 356 MIDAS : 
 
 eth them ; so that if you know by tlie oracle 
 what god wrought it, you shall by humble sub- 
 mission, by that god be released. 
 
 Mid. Sophronia, I commend thy care and 
 courage ; but let me hear these reeds, that these 
 lothesome ears may be glutted with the report, 
 and that is as good as a remedy. 
 
 The Reeds. Midas, of Phrygia, hath ass's ears. 
 
 Mid. " Midas, of Phrygia, hath ass's ears." 
 So he hath, unhappy Midas. If these reeds sing 
 my shame so loud, will men whisper it softly ? 
 No, all the world already rings of it : and as im- 
 possible it is to stay the rumour, as to catch the 
 wind in a net that blowetb in the air ; or to stop 
 the wind of all mens' mouths that breathe out 
 air. I will to Apollo, whose oracle must be my 
 doom, and I fear me, my dishonour, because my 
 doom was his, if kings may disgrace gods ; and 
 gods they disgrace, when they forget their duties. 
 
 Mel. What sayeth Midas? 
 
 3Iid. Nothing; but that Apollo must deter- 
 mine all, oi* Midas see ruin of all. To Apollo 
 will I offer an ivory lute for his sweet harmony, 
 and berries of bays as black as jet, for his love, 
 Daphne ; pure simples for his physic, and conti- 
 nual incense for his prophesying. 
 
 Mart. Apollo may discover some odd riddle, 
 but not give the redress ; for yet did I never 
 hear that his oracles were without doubtfulness, 
 nor his remedies without impossibilities. This 
 superstition of yours is able to bring errors 
 among the common sort, not ease to your dis- 
 contented mind. 
 
 Mid. Dost thou not know, Martins, that when
 
 A COMEDY. 357 
 
 Bacchus commanded me to bathe myself in 
 Pactolus, thou thouj^htest it a mere mockery, be- 
 fore with thine eyes thou sawest the remedy? 
 
 Mart. Aye, Bacchus gave the wish, and there- 
 fore was like also to give the remedy. 
 
 Mid. And who knows whether Apollo gave 
 me these ears, and therefore may release the 
 punishment ? Well, reply not, for I will to Del- 
 phos: in the mean time let it be proclaimed, 
 that if there be any so cunning, that can tell the 
 reason of these reeds creaking, he shall have ray 
 daughter to his wife, or, if she refuse it, a duke- 
 dom for his pains : and withal, that whosoever 
 is so bold as to say that Midas hath ass*s ears, 
 shall presently lose his. 
 
 Sop. Dear father, then go forwards, prepare 
 for the sacrifice, and dispose of Sophronia as it 
 best pleaseth you. 
 
 Mid. Come, let us in. \^Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Licio and Petulus. 
 
 Pet, What a rascal was Motto to cozen us, 
 and say there were thirty men in a room that 
 would undo us, and when all came to all, they 
 were but table-men *. 
 
 Lie. Aye, and then to give us an inventory of 
 all his goods, only to redeem the beard; but we 
 
 * Tables was a game played with dice, and pieces of wood, 
 and differed very little from backgammon : the pieces of wood 
 were no doubt called table-men, and to these Petulus alludes.
 
 358 MIDAS : 
 
 will be even with him ; and I'll be forsworn but 
 I'll be revenged. t 
 
 Pet, And here I vow by my concealed beard, 
 if ever it chance to be discovered to the world, 
 that it may make a pikedevant *, I will ha\e it 
 so sharp pointed, that it shall stab Motto like a 
 poynado f. 
 
 Lie. And I protest by these hairs on my head, 
 which are but casualties ; for, alas ! who kuows 
 not how soon they are lost ? autumn shaves like 
 a razor : if these locks be rooted, against wind 
 and weather, spring and fall, I swear they shall 
 not be lopped, till Motto, by my knavery, be so 
 bald, that I may write verses on his scalp. In 
 witness whereof I eat this hair: now must thou, 
 Petulus, kiss thy beard, for that was the book 
 thou swearedst by. 
 
 Pet. Nay, I would I could come but to kiss 
 my chin, which is as yet the cover of my book ; 
 but my word shall stand. Now let us read the 
 inventory ; we'll share it equally. 
 
 Lie. What else ? 
 
 Pet. " An inventory of all Motto's moveables, 
 bads and goods, as also of such debts as are 
 owing him, with such household stuff as can- 
 not be removed. Imprimis, in the bed-chamber, 
 one foul wife and five small children.*' 
 
 Lie. I'll not share in that. 
 
 Pet. I am content, take thou all. These be 
 his moveable bads. 
 
 * A pikedevant was probably a " courtly term" for the bodkin 
 beard, mentioned by Motto in Act III. Scene II. and as the 
 one he alludes to was gold, it might very well stab Motto when 
 thus fashionably trimmed. 
 
 t " Poynado," poniard.
 
 A COMEDY. 359 
 
 Lie. And from me they shall be removables. 
 
 Pet, " Item, in the servant's chamber, two 
 pair of curst quean's tongues *." 
 
 Lie. Tongs thou wouldst say. 
 
 Pet. Nay, they pinch worse than tongs. 
 
 Lie. They are moveables, I'll warrant. 
 
 Pet. " Item, one pair of horns in the bride 
 chamber, on the bed's head." 
 
 Lie. The beast's head ; for Motto is stuft in 
 the head, and these are among unmoveable 
 goods. 
 
 Pet. Well, Foelix quern faciunt aliena perieula 
 cautum, happy are they whom other men's horns 
 do make to beware. " Item, a broken pate, owing 
 me by one of the Cole-house for notching his head 
 like a chess-board." Take thou that, and I give 
 thee all the rest of his debts. 
 
 Pet. Noli me tangere, I refuse the executor- 
 ship, because I will not meddle with his despe- 
 rate debts. " Item, an hundred shrewd turns 
 
 * " Curst quean's tongues." It means, I believe, the tongues 
 of two notorious scolds. That prostitutes were in the time 
 of our poet quaintly called queans appears from Middleton's 
 Witch, Act III. Scene II. 
 
 " She's one o' the falling family, 
 A quean my master keeps." 
 
 And the speech of Zuccone, in " Parisitaster," after his wife had 
 proved unfaithful : 
 
 " Ha, thou queane, I have no wife now." 
 
 But it was used as a general term of reproach to women. So 
 Ford, in Act IV. of the " Merry Wives of Windsor," speaking 
 of the old woman of Brentford, calls her 
 
 " A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean!" 
 And in " All's Well that Ends WeU:* 
 
 " As fit as a scolding quean to a wrangling knave"
 
 360 MIDAS : 
 
 owing me by the pages in the court, because I 
 will not trust theni for trimming." 
 
 Lie. That's due debt. 
 
 Pet. Well, because Motto is poor, they shall 
 be paid him cum recumbentibns. All the pages 
 shall enter into recognisance ; but ecce, Pipenetta 
 chaunts it. 
 
 tv. Enter Pipenetta, singing. 
 
 'Las how long shall I 
 
 And my maidenhead lie 
 In a cold bed ail the night long ? 
 
 I cannot abide it. 
 
 Yet away cannot chide it. 
 Though I find it does me some wrong. 
 
 Can any one tell 
 
 Where this fine thing doth dwell. 
 That carries nor form nor fashion ? 
 
 It both heats and cools, 
 
 'Tis a bauble for fools. 
 Yet catch'd at in every nation. 
 
 Say a maid were so crost. 
 
 As to see this toy lost. 
 Cannot hue and cry fetch it again 1 
 
 'Las, no ! for 'tis driven 
 
 Nor to hell, nor to heaven. 
 When 'tis found, *tis lost even then. 
 
 Heigh ho ; would 1 were a witch, that I might 
 be a duchess. 
 
 Pet. I know not whether thy fortune is to be 
 a duchess, but sure I am thy face serves thee 
 well for a witch. What's the matter? 
 
 Pip. The matter? Marry, 'tis proclaimed, that 
 whosoever can tell the cause of the reed's song^ 
 shall either have Sophronia to wife, or (if she re-
 
 **' A COMEDY. 361 
 
 fuse it) a dukedom for his wisdom. Besides, 
 whosoever sayeth that Midas hath ass's ears, 
 shall lose theirs. 
 
 Lie. I'll be a duke : I find honour to bud in 
 my head, and methinks every joint of my arms, 
 from the shoulder to the little finger, says, ' Send 
 for the herald :' mine arms are all armory, gules, 
 sables, azure, or, vert, pur, post, pair, &c. * 
 
 Pet. And my heart is like a hearth where Cupid 
 is making a fire, for Sophronia shall be my wife: 
 methinks Venus and Nature stand with each of 
 them a pair of bellows, the one cooling my low 
 birth, the other kindling my lofty affections. 
 
 Pip. Apollo will help me, because I can sing. 
 
 Lie. Mercury me, because I can lie. 
 
 Pet. All the gods me, because I can lie, sing, 
 swear, and love. But soft, here comes Motto, 
 now shall we have a fit time to be revenged, if 
 by device we can make him say, Midas hath 
 ass's ears. 
 
 Enter Motto. 
 
 Lie. Let us not seem to be angry about the 
 inventory, and you shall see my wit to be the 
 hangman for his tongue. 
 
 Pip. Why, fools, hath a barber a tongue? 
 
 Pet. We'll make him have a tongue, that his 
 teeth, that look like a comb, shall be the scissars 
 to cut it off. 
 
 * Post and pair is the name of a game at cards. Licio, after 
 enumerating as many terms of heraldry as occurred to him, blun- 
 ders into others with which he was better acquainted. Kite, in 
 the " Recruiting Officer," does the same thing.
 
 362 ' MIDAS : 
 
 Pip. I pray let me have the odd ends. I fear 
 nothing so much as to be tonguetied. 
 
 ' Lie. Thou shalt have all the shavings, and 
 then a woman's tongue imped with a barber's, will 
 prove a razor or a raser *. 
 
 Pet. How now, Motto, what all amort \ ? 
 
 Mot. I am as melancholy as a cat. 
 
 Lie. Melancholy ? marry gup, is melancholy a 
 word for a barber's mouth ? thou shouldst say, 
 heavy, dull, and doltish : melancholy is the crest 
 of courtiers' arms, and now every base compa- 
 nion being in his muble fubles, says he is melan- 
 choly. 
 
 Pet. Motto, thou shouldst say thou art lumpish. 
 If thou encroach upon our courtly terms, we'll 
 trounce thee : belike if thou shouldst spit often^ 
 thou wouldst call it rheum. Motto, in men of 
 
 * The meaning of the passage is this : Pipenetta, who loved 
 to talk, wishes that the parts which were cut off from the barber's 
 tongue (which she calls the odd ends) might be given to her to 
 piece out or mend her own with : and Licio promises that these 
 pieces (which, in allusion to the trade of Motto, he calls shavings) 
 should be given to her ; and then satirically observes, that when 
 a woman's tongue was lengthened or pieced out with a barber's, 
 it would prove keen enough to cut away every thing before it. 
 Many instances may be produced of imp being used in this 
 sense : so in " Richard II." 
 
 ** If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke. 
 Imp out our drooping country's broken wing." 
 
 And Stevens observes, " When the wing-feathers of a hawk 
 were dropped, or forced out by accident, it was usual to supply 
 as many as were deficient : this operation was called to imp a 
 hawk." He produced other instances, and adds, that " Tur. 
 bervile has a whole chapter on ' the Way and Manner howe to 
 ympe a Hawke's Feather, how-soever it be broken or broosed'." 
 t " All amort," dull, heavy, melancholy : it is a common 
 phrase.
 
 A COMEDY. 363 
 
 reputation and credit, it is the rheum ; in such 
 mechanical mushrooms, it is a catarrh, a pose, 
 the water evil. You were best wear a velvet 
 patch on your temple too. 
 
 Mot. What a world it is to see eggs forwarder 
 than cocks : these infants are as cunning in dis- 
 eases, as I that have run them all over, backward 
 and forward. I tell you, boys, it is melancholy 
 that now troubleth me. 
 
 Del. My master could tickle you with dis- 
 eases, and that old ones, that have continued in 
 his ancestors' bones these three hundred years. 
 He is the last of the family that is left uneaten. 
 
 Mot. What meanest thou, Dello ? 
 
 Pet. He means you are the last of the stock 
 alive ; the rest worms have eaten. 
 
 Del. A pox of those saucy worms, that eat 
 men before they be dead. 
 
 Pet. But tell us, Motto, why art thou sad? 
 
 Mot. Because all the court is sad. 
 
 Lie. Why are they sad in court ? 
 
 Mot. Because the king hath a pain in his ears. 
 
 Pet. Belike it is the wens. 
 
 Mot, It may be, for his ears are swollen very 
 big. ? -''-^ 
 
 Pet. (to Lie.) Ten to one Motto knows of 
 the ass's ears. 
 
 Lie. If he know it, we shall ; for it is as hard 
 for a barber to keep a secret in his mouth, as a 
 burning coal in his hand : thou shalt see me 
 wring it out by wit. Motto, 'twas told me that 
 the king will discharge you of your office, be- 
 cause you cut his ear when you last trimmed 
 him.
 
 364 MIDAS : 
 
 Mot. 'Tis a lie ; and yet if I had he might 
 well spare an inch or two. 
 
 Pet. It will out, I feel him coming. 
 
 Del. (Aside to Mot.) Master, take heed, you 
 will blab all anon, these wags are crafty. 
 
 Mot. Let me alone. 
 
 Lie. Why, Motto, what difference between 
 the king's ears and thine? 
 
 Mot. As much as between an ass's ears and 
 mine. 
 
 Pet. Oh, Motto is modest; to mitigate the 
 matter, he calls his own ears ass's ears. 
 
 Mot. Nay, I mean the king's are ass's ears. 
 
 Lie. Treason ! treason ! 
 
 Del. I told you, master; you have made a 
 fair hand ; for now you have made your lips 
 scissars to cut off your ears. 
 
 Mot. Perii *, unless you pity me. Motto is m 
 a pit. * * 
 
 Pet. Nay, Motto, treason is a worse pain than 
 toothake. 
 
 Lie. Now, Motto, thou knowest thine ears 
 are ours to command. 
 
 Mot. Your servants or handmaids. 
 
 Pet. Then will I lead my maids by the hand. 
 \_He pulls him by the ears. 
 
 Mot. Out, villain ! thou wringest too hard. 
 
 Del. Not so hard as he bit me. 
 
 Mot. Thou seest, boy, we are both mortal. 
 I enjoy mine ears, but durante placito; nor thou 
 thy finger, hntfavente dente. 
 
 Pet. Yea, Motto, hast thou Latin ? 
 
 * " Peril," i, e. \ am undone.
 
 A COxMEDY. 365 
 
 Mot. Alas, he that hath drawn so many teeth, 
 and never asked Latin for a tooth, is ill brought 
 up. 
 
 Lie. Well, Motto, let us have the beard, with- 
 out covin *, fraud, or delay, at one entire payment, 
 and thou shalt scape a payment. 
 
 Mot. I protest by scissars, brush and comb, 
 bason, ball and apron, by razor, earpick and rub- 
 bing cloths, and cjl the tria sequuntur Iriaes in 
 our secret occupation (for you know it is no 
 blabbing art), that you shall have the beard, in 
 manner and form following. Not only the golden 
 beard and every hair (though it be not hair), 
 but a dozen of beards, to stuff two dozen of 
 cushions. 
 
 Lie. Then they be big ones. 
 
 Del. They be half a yard broad, and a nail three 
 quarters long, and a foot thick ; so, sir, shall you 
 lind them stuft enough, and soft enough. All 
 my mistress' lines that she dries her clothes on, 
 are made only of mustachio stufff. And, if I 
 durst tell the truth, as lusty as I am here, I lie 
 upon a bed of beards ; a bots of their bristles, 
 and they that own them, they are harder than 
 flocks. 
 
 Pet. A fine discourse. Well, Motto, we give 
 thee mercy, but we will not lose the beard. 
 Remember now our inventory. Item, we will 
 not let thee go out of our hands, till we have the 
 beard in cur hands. 
 
 3Iot. Then follow . [Exeunt. 
 
 * " Covin," is a term in law, denoting a fraudulent agreement 
 t The lines on which clothes are hung are now sometimes 
 made of hair : though not of " mustachio stuff," I confess.
 
 366 MIDAS : 
 
 Scene III. 
 MidXs, SopHRONiA, Mellacrites, and Mar- 
 
 TIUS. 
 
 ' Mid. This is Delphos. Sacred Apollo, whose 
 oracles be all divine, though doubtful ; answer 
 poor Midas, and pity him. 
 
 Sop. I marvel there is no answer. 
 
 Mid. Fond Midas, how canst thou ask pity 
 of him whom thou hast so much abused; or 
 why dost thou abuse the world, both to seem 
 ignorant in not acknowledging an offence, and 
 impudent so openly to crave pardon? Apollo 
 will not answer, but Midas must not cease. 
 Apollo, divine Apollo, Midas hath ass's ears ; 
 yet let pity sink into thine ears, and tell when he 
 shall be free from this shame, or what may miti- 
 gate his sin ? 
 
 Mart. Tush, Apollo is tuning his pipes; or at 
 barley-break* with Daphne, or assaying on some 
 shepherd's coat, or taking measure of a serpent's 
 skin. Were I Midas, I would rather cut these 
 ears off close from my head, than stand whim- 
 pering f before such a blind god J. 
 
 " Barley-break" was a rural sport amongst young persons'. 
 See note on the " Scornful Lady" of Beaumont and Fletcher. 
 
 t " Whimpering," sobbing. All may recollect the lamenta- 
 tion of Glumdalclitch : 
 
 " In peals of thunder now she roars, and now 
 She gently whimpers like a lowing cow." 
 
 X It will not be impertinent here, I hope, to notice that 
 " Apollo is tuning his pipes," alludes to his being the god of 
 music ; " or at barley-break with Daphne," to his celebrated af- 
 fection for Daphne ; " or assaying on some shepherd's coat," to
 
 A COMEDY. 367 
 
 Mid. Thou art barbarous riot valiant. Gods 
 must be entreated not commanded : thou wouldst 
 quench fire with a sword, and add to my shame 
 (which is more than any prince can endure) thy 
 rudeness (which is more than any sensible crea- 
 ture would follow). Divine Apollo, what shall 
 become of Midas ? Accept this lute, these ber- 
 ries, these simples, these tapers ; if Apollo take 
 any delight in music, in Daphne, in physic, in 
 eternity. 
 
 THE ORACLE. 
 
 When Pan Apollo in music shall excel, 
 Midas, of Phrygia, shall lose his ass's ears; 
 Pan did Apollo in music far excel, 
 Therefore King Midas weareth ass's ears : 
 Unless he shrink his stretching hand from Lesbos, 
 His ears in length, at length shall reach to Delphos. 
 
 Mel. It were good, to expound these oracles, 
 that the learned men in Phrygia were assembled, 
 otherwise the remedy will be as impossible to be 
 had, as the cause to be sifted. 
 
 Mart, I foresaw some old saw which should be 
 doubtful. Who would gad to such gods, that 
 must be honoured if they speak without sense ; 
 and the oracle wondered at, as though it were 
 above sense? 
 
 Mid. No more, Martins. I am the learnedest 
 in Phrygia to interpret these oracles ; and though 
 
 his having served Admetus in that ignoble employment, from 
 whence he was styled king of shepherds; " or taking measure of 
 a serpent's skin," possibly to his being god of medicine ; or in 
 allusion to the serpent Python, which Apollo slew, and the skin 
 of which formed a covering for the tripod on which the priestess 
 of Apollo sat.
 
 368 MIDAS : 
 
 shame hath hitherto caused me to conceal it, 
 now I must unfold it by necessity. Thus destiny 
 bringeth me not only to be cause of all my 
 shame, but reporter. Thou, Sophronia, and 
 you, my lords, hearken : When I had bathed 
 myself in Pactolus, and saw my wish to float in 
 the waves, I wished the waves to overflow my 
 body, so melancholy my fortune made me, so 
 mad my folly : yet by hunting I thought to ease 
 my heart ; and coming at last to the hill Timo- 
 lus, I perceived Apollo and Pan contending for 
 excellency in music among nymphs ; they re- 
 quired also my judgment. I (whom the loss 
 of gold made discontent, and the possessing des- 
 perate (either dulled with the humours of my 
 weak brain, or deceived by thickness of my deaf 
 ears), preferred the harsh noise of Pan's pipe be- 
 fore the sweet stroke of Apollo's lute; which 
 caused Phoebus in justice (as I now confess, and 
 then as I saw in anger) to set these ears on my 
 head, that have wrung so many tears from mine 
 eyes. For, stretching my hands to Lesbos, I 
 find that all the gods have spumed at my prac- 
 tices, and those islands scorned them. My 
 pride the gods disdain, my policy men, my mines 
 have been emptied by soldiers, my soldiers 
 spoiled by wars, my wars without success be- 
 cause usurping, my usurping without end be- 
 cause my ambition above measure. I will there- 
 fore yield myself to Bacchus, and acknowledge 
 my wish to be vanity ; to Apollo, and confess 
 my judgment to be foolish; to Mars, and say 
 my wars are unjust ; to Diana, and tell my af- 
 fection hath been unnatural : and I doubt not
 
 A COMEDY. 369 
 
 what a god hath done to make me know myself, 
 all the gods will help to undo, that I may come 
 to myself. 
 
 Sop. Is it possible that Midas should be so 
 overshot in judgment? Unhappy Midas, whose 
 wits melt with his gold, and whose gold is con- 
 sumed with his wits. 
 
 Mid. What talketh Sophronia to herself? 
 
 Sop. Nothing, but that since Midas hath con- 
 fessed his fault to us, he also acknowledge it to 
 Apollo. 
 
 Mid. I will, Sophronia. Sacred Apollo, things 
 past cannot be recalled, repented they may be : 
 behold Midas, not only submitting himself to 
 punishment, but confessing his peevishness ; be- 
 ing glad for shame to call that peevishness, which 
 indeed was folly. Whatsoever Apollo shall com- 
 mand, Midas will execute. 
 
 Apol. Then attend, Midas. I accept thy sub- 
 mission and sacrifice, so as yearly at this temple 
 thou offer sacrifice in submission : withal, take 
 Apollo's counsel, which if thou scorn, thou shalt 
 find thy destiny. I will not speak in riddles, all 
 shall be plain, because thou art dull, but all cer- 
 tain if thou be obstinate. 
 
 Weigh not in one balance gold and justice. 
 
 With one hand wage not war and peace. 
 
 Let thy head be glad of one crown : 
 
 And take care to keep one friend ; 
 
 The friend thou wouldst make thy foe. 
 
 The kingdom thou wouldst make the world, 
 
 The arm that thou dost arm with force, 
 
 The gold that thou dost think a god, 
 
 Shall conquer, fall, shrink short, be common, 
 
 VOL. I. E E
 
 370 MIDAS : 
 
 With force, with pride, with fear, with traffic. 
 
 If this thou like, shake off an ass's ears ; 
 
 If not, for ever shake an ass's ears. 
 
 Apollo will not reply. 
 
 Mid. It may be, Sophronia,. that neither you,^ 
 nor any else, understand Apollo, because none 
 of you have the heart of a king : but my thoughts 
 expound my fortunes, and my fortunes hang upon 
 my thoughts. The great Apollo, that joined to 
 my head ass's ears, hath put into my heart a 
 lion's mind. I see that by obscure shadows, 
 which you cannot discern in fresh colours, 
 Apollo, in the depth of his dark answer, is to me 
 the glistering ;0f a bright sun. I perceive (and 
 yet not too late) that Lesbos will not be touched 
 by gold, by force it cannot : that the gods have 
 pitched it out of the world*, as not to be controlled 
 by any in the world. Though my hand be gold, 
 yet I must not think to span over the main ocean : 
 though my soldiers be valiant, I must not there- 
 fore think my quarrels just. There is no way 
 to nail the crown of Phrygia fast to my daughter's 
 head, but in letting the crowns of others sit in 
 quiet on theirs. 
 
 Mart. Midas. 
 
 Mid. How darest thou reply, seeing me re- 
 solved ? thy counsel hath spilt more blood than 
 all my soldiers' lances ; let none be so hardy as 
 to look to cross me. Sacred Apollo, if sacrifice 
 yearly at thy temple, and submission hourly in 
 mine own court, if fulfilling thy council and cor- 
 recting my counsellors may shake off these ass's 
 
 * Our poet here alludes plainly to the " Ultimus orbis Bri- 
 tannos" of Horace.
 
 A COMEDY. 371 
 
 ears, I here before thee vow to shake off all 
 envies abroad, and at home all tyranny. 
 
 [7%e ears fall off*. 
 
 Sop. Honoured be Apollo, Midas is restored. 
 
 Mid. Fortunate Midas, that feelest thy head 
 lightened of dull ears, and thy heart of deadly 
 sorrows. Come, my lords, let us repair to our 
 palace, in which Apollo shall have a stately 
 palace erected : every month will we solemnize 
 there a feast, and here every year a sacrifice. 
 Phrygia shall be governed by gods, not men, 
 lest the gods make beasts of men. So my coun- 
 cil of war shall not make conquests in their own 
 conceits, nor my counsellors in peace make me 
 poor, to enrich themselves. So blessed be Apollo, 
 quiet be Lesbos, happy be Midas, and to begin 
 this solemnity, let us sing to Apollo, for so much 
 as music nothing can content Apollo. 
 
 [They all sing. 
 
 Sing to Apollo, god of day. 
 Whose golden beams.with morning play, 
 And make her eyes so brightly shine, 
 Aurora's face is call'd divine. 
 Sing to Phoebus and that throne 
 Of diamonds which he sets upon ; 
 16 Paeans^ let us sing 
 
 To physic, and to Poesy's king. 
 
 
 
 Crown all his altars with bright fire. 
 Laurels bind about his lyre, 
 A Daphnean coronet for his head. 
 The Muses dance about his bed ; 
 . When on his ravishing lute he plays. 
 Strew his temple round with bays ; 
 
 16 Pseans let us sing 
 
 To the glittering Delian king. 
 
 FINIS.
 
 A CONCLUDING NOTE. 
 
 It can scarcely have escaped tlie notice of the attentive reader, 
 that many of the passages in the present play are now as appli- 
 cable to the late Ruler of the French, in all respects, as they 
 were to Philip II. in the reign of Elizabeth. This certainly 
 occured to the editor before the play was put in the press : but 
 as the termination of the contest in France seemed then to be 
 rapidly approaching, he thought it better to reserve the obser- 
 vation for a concluding note. As the present drama was meant 
 to be a comedy, Midas is very properly drawn by Lyly as being 
 repentant and pardoned at the conclusion. How far this was 
 strictly applicable to Philip II. must be left to the determination 
 of those who are well acquainted with his history. The wars, 
 however, of Philip, though more than sufficiently prodigal of 
 human blood, were almost " civil games," when compared with 
 those which have been carried on by the Frt ich in our own 
 times : and it remains to be evinced by his future conduct whe- 
 ther he, who, like ]\f idas, " made use of those as slaves for other 
 wars, whom he first enslaved by unjust wars he who enticed the 
 subjects of neighbouring princes to renounce, if not to destroy 
 their natural kings he who pretended claim to every kingdom 
 as though he had been created heir apparent to the world he 
 who added to the craftiness of the fox, the cruelty of the tiger, 
 the ravenings of the wolf, and the dissembling of the hyena," 
 hath also like Midas at last shaken off that intemperate desire of 
 government, and thankful for the lenity which has been sbown 
 him, will estimate what is left to him by the right which he now 
 has to it, and not by the greatness of his ambition, or by that 
 which he so lately was possessed of.
 
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