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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 A 
 
 SELECT COLLECTION 
 
 IN TWELVE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 A NEW EDITION I 
 WITH 
 
 ADDITIONAL NOTES AND CORRECTIONS, 
 
 BY THE LATE 
 
 ISAAC REED, OCTAVIUS GILCHRIST, 
 AND THE EDITOR. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SEPTIMUS PROWETT, 23, OLD BOND STREET. 
 
 M.DCCC.XXT.
 
 Thomas White, Printer, 
 Crane Court.
 
 OLD PLAYS. 
 
 VOLUME I, 
 
 PREFACES. 
 
 HISTORIA HISTRIONICA. 
 GOD'S PROMISES. 
 
 THE FOUR P's. 
 
 FERREX AND PORREX. 
 
 DAMON AND P1THIAS. 
 
 NEW CUSTOME. 
 
 M.DCCC.XXV. 
 
 1265896
 
 ADVERTISEMENT 
 
 THE PRESENT EDITION. 
 
 THE length of the prefatory matter to the Editions 
 of this Collection of Old Plays by Mr. Dodsley, in 
 1744, and by Mr. Reed, in 1780, renders it unne- 
 cessary now to add more than a very short statement 
 of what has been done to make the present under ~ 
 taking acceptable. 
 
 Five and forty years have elapsed since the last 
 reprint was published, and during that interval 
 ardour of pursuit in this particular department has 
 considerably increased the stock of knowledge pre- 
 viously obtained regarding the early drama and 
 poetry of England. Mr. Reed, by his laborious in- 
 dustry, acquired additional information, appended 
 by him in MS. to a copy of the Old Plays of 1780, 
 which subsequently devolved into the possession of 
 the late Mr. Octavius Gilchrist, long known as a 
 tasteful and patient literary antiquary. He joined 
 his acquisitions to those of Mr. Reed, and their 
 latest notes and illustrations are here inserted, 
 
 b
 
 together with such farther intelligence, connected 
 with the subject, as the Editor had obtained from 
 the enquiries of others, or discovered by his own 
 research. 
 
 It is singular that a series of Old Plays, collected 
 professedly for the purpose of illustrating the rise 
 and progress of the stage in this country, and 
 comprising, as Mr. Reed somewhat incautiously 
 observes, " a specimen of almost every author who 
 contributed to support it," should not have con- 
 tained a single performance by such distinguished 
 poets as Greene, Peele, Nash, and Lodge. The 
 conjecture of Mr. Malone, and of other biographers 
 is, that Shakespeare did not begin to write for the 
 Theatre until about 1591 ; when, therefore, it is men- 
 tioned that the four authors above named ceased 
 to produce plays before or very soon after the date 
 when our great dramatist commenced his career, it 
 is obvious how necessary it must be, with a view to 
 ascertain the correctness of Dryden's re-echoed as- 
 sertion, that Shakespeare " created first the stage," 
 to examine the efforts of his immediate predeces- 
 sors. For this purpose, in the present edition, four 
 plays of great celebrity in their day have been 
 substituted for others by Ford and Shirley, hitherto 
 included, but which it was needless to retain, 
 because reprints of the works of both those poets 
 are on the eve of publication, under the care of 
 Mr. Gifford. Recollecting how much each per-
 
 Ill 
 
 formance will gain by his editorship, it might be 
 prudent also to shun comparison. 
 
 The arrangement of the plays by Mr. Reed was ac- 
 cording to the dates when they were printed ; but if 
 his object were, as he states, " to shew the progress of 
 genius," it is quite evident that by this plan he accom- 
 plished nothing ; since the time of publication was 
 not unfrequently far distant from that when the piece 
 was actually written : thus Marlow's Jew of Malta, 
 the author of which was killed in 1593, obtained a 
 place in the same volume with May's Heir, and 
 Davenant's Wits, the one written perhaps thirty and 
 the other forty years afterwards. Nevertheless, 
 the success of any attempt to insert them according 
 to the period when they were first produced must 
 often depend upon mere conjecture, and such a 
 plan would likewise be open to other objections.* 
 Upon the whole, therefore, it was thought best not 
 to disturb the course followed in 1780 beyond the 
 insertion of the four plays new to the present 
 edition, in vacancies occasioned by the omission 
 of the following: 
 
 Tis Pity she's a Whore, by John Ford. 
 
 The Bird in a Cage, by James Shirley. 
 
 * lu order however, to enable the r eader to peruse the 
 plays chronologically or otherwise, a list of the whole 
 series has been supplied in the 12th vol. made out according 
 to the dates when they were actually, or may be supposed 
 to have been written.
 
 IV 
 
 The Gamester, by the same, 
 
 Andromana, by the same. 
 
 Instead of these, 
 
 The Wounds of Civil War, by Thomas Lodge. 
 
 Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay, by Robt. Greene. 
 
 Summer's Last Will and Testament, by Thomas 
 Nash, and 
 
 Edward I. by George Peele, 
 
 have been inserted. To the twelfth volume have 
 also been added two very early and rare dramatic 
 specimens the one an Interlude, called The 
 Worlds and the Chylde, printed by Wynkin de 
 Worde, in 1522, and the other, The Tragicall 
 Comedie of Apius and Virginia, published in 1575. 
 For the sake of more convenient reference, by 
 having all the introductory matter together, the 
 Dialogue on Plays and Players, called Historia 
 Histrionica, and Sir W. Davenant's Patent of 1662, 
 have been transferred from the 12th volume of the 
 last edition to the 1st volume of the present. 
 
 Although Mr. Reed bestowed great attention on 
 his undertaking, and removed many of the imper- 
 fections of Mr. Dodsley's original collection ; and 
 although it might be supposed from his preface, that 
 by consulting earlier and better copies, and collating 
 all the plays, he had rendered the text sufficiently 
 perfect, yet the fact is, that he performed this 
 irksome part of the duty of an Editor with less care 
 than the rest. Neither do his later MS. notes shew
 
 that he was conscious of the defectiveness of his 
 labours in this particular ; and excepting in a very 
 few instances, and as applied to a very few pages, 
 Mr. Gilchrist did not attempt to remedy it. How 
 necessary it was that such a collation should be 
 made will be apparent from the many instances 
 in which the variations are now marked. In seve- 
 ral of the plays gross errors of this kind had crept 
 into almost every page ; and though in others they 
 were less numerous, still they were frequent 
 and important. Sometimes the words of all the old 
 copies were departed from without notice or 
 necessity, and in several instances, dedications, 
 songs, and parts of the dialogue were omitted, 
 while whole speeches were assigned to wrong 
 characters. The Editor does not make this state- 
 ment at all to diminish the degree of gratitude due 
 to Mr. Reed for what he did accomplish, nor to 
 attract credit to himself for the performance of a 
 tedious and generally thankless task : he mentions 
 it merely as a matter of fact. 
 
 He is aware how much might yet be done in the 
 regulation of the metre. The old printers, as is 
 well known, were often quite regardless of the 
 verse ; either, because attention to it, by requiring 
 too much room, did not suit the price at which a play 
 was published, or because the manuscript, often 
 surreptitiously obtained, reached them in a very 
 confused and imperfect state. In several places
 
 VI 
 
 Mr. Gilchrist's suggestions in this respect have been 
 adopted; and in general, wherever the measure 
 could be distinctly ascertained, and restored without 
 violence to the text, the attempt has been made. It 
 has not unfrequently happened that the omission or 
 insertion of a single unimportant word or syllable 
 would have accomplished the object; but the Editor 
 preferred the observance of fidelity to any trifling 
 exercise of ingenuity. It may be added that Mr. 
 Reed paid less attention to punctuation than its 
 importance to the sense required. 
 
 The biographical and preliminary matter to each 
 play has been rendered more complete than hitherto 
 by the improved state of information regarding our 
 early poets and poetry : in some instances it has 
 been re-written ; in others, it is entirely new, and 
 in nearly all cases, additional and perhaps useful 
 notes have been appended. The conciseness of 
 the plan established in the outset prevented the 
 introduction of critical remarks. 
 
 In the notes generally, the Editor did not feel 
 himself at liberty to make any change : they are 
 inserted as they stood in the edition of 1780, 
 while the farther MS. illustrations of Mr. Reed 
 and Mr: Gilchrist are given as they left them. Of 
 the printed notes, a few might have been wholly 
 omitted, some considerably abbreviated, and others 
 adrautageously altered; but under all the circum- 
 stances, it was deemed prudent to reprint them
 
 Vll 
 
 entire. Those for which the Editor is responsible 
 are marked with the letter C. He has been anxious 
 in them to avoid prolixity, and where verbal criti- 
 cism was necessary he has subjoined no more quo- 
 tations from contemporary writers than he thought 
 necessary for illustration. Perhaps the notes on 
 some of the plays now first re-printed would have 
 been fewer had the Editor not been desirous to 
 make the whole work consistent. The new matter 
 by Mr. Reed and Mr. Gilchrist is distinguished by 
 the initials of their names. 
 
 C. 
 
 London, January, 1826.
 
 MR. REED'S PREFACE. 
 
 THE Works of our ancient dramatic writers have 
 suffered a very long, and, some few excepted, a 
 very general neglect. Though possessed of innu- 
 merable beauties, they have been known in so 
 imperfect a manner, that their very names have 
 almost escaped the readers of the present times. 
 The merits of writers are not always to be esti- 
 mated from the reputation which they bear with 
 the public. Accident and caprice contribute to 
 advance some authors above their due rank ; and 
 the same causes as frequently depress below their 
 proper stations, others who are entitled to a supe- 
 rior degree of regard. The truth of these obser- 
 vations might be illustrated by instances without 
 number. Many productions have been at first 
 coldly received, which afterwards have met with 
 the highest applause. Some have been praised and 
 neglected ; while others, from a concurrence of 
 circumstances in which excellence bath had no 
 concern, have for a time acquired a share of favour 
 which they have been unable to retain. Such hath
 
 MR. REED'S PREFACE. 
 
 been the revolution of taste, that not a few works 
 have been both applauded and condemned by the 
 same persons ; and this will be esteemed the less 
 extraordinary, when it is considered how many, 
 who pronounce on the beauties or defects of 
 authors, decide without any previous knowledge of 
 what they approve or censure, how many rely on 
 the opinion of others, and how few are capable of 
 exercising any judgment of their own. 
 
 To whatever cause it is to be ascribed, there can 
 be no question but that the works of those who 
 flourished in the reigns of Queen Elizabeth and her 
 successor were not until lately much studied ; and 
 the dramatic poets were not less neglected than 
 their contemporary brethren. Even those who are 
 now held in the greatest reverence were not exempt 
 from the same contemptuous treatment, and in 
 consequence of it were almost suffered to sink into 
 oblivion and obscurity. Many parts of Shakspeare, 
 the God of our present idolatry, and some whole 
 Plays, remained involved in all the darkness which 
 a change of manners and customs in the lapse of 
 near two centuries had occasioned ; and the repu- 
 tation which our favourite author possessed de- 
 pended in some degree on the frequent representa- 
 tion of a very few of his plays at the theatres. How 
 little he was read may be seen by the example of 
 Sir Richard Steele, who does not appear to have
 
 MR. REED'S PREFACE. xi 
 
 been acquainted with so popular a play as The 
 Taming of a Shrew 1 . 
 
 To account lor so general a disregard towards 
 the early writers for the stage may not be an easy 
 task, though it would not be difficult to prove the 
 injustice of it. Many causes are to be assigned. 
 The fanaticism, which prevailed about the middle 
 of the last century, had a fatal influence over the 
 theatre for some time. The intemperance of reli- 
 gious zeal carried destruction along with it wherever 
 the works of taste were to be met with ; and its 
 dominion continued so long, that few of the dra- 
 matic poets, who flourished when the civil wars 
 broke out, remained at the Restoration. The 
 convulsions of the times, which had interrupted all 
 kind of diversions, produced also a change in the 
 manners of the people ; and those who adhered to 
 monarchy, on their return from exi'e, brought home 
 with them a fondness for the French school, which 
 soon superseded and sunk into disrepute the rude, 
 but nervous, productions of their predecessors. 
 Those who obtained the direction of dramatic 
 entertainments at this period, had also been ba- 
 nished from their country, and had acquired the 
 same taste. Regularity therefore took place of the 
 wild native efforts of genius, which were soon 
 driven from the stage ; the contemporaries and 
 immediate successors of Shakspeare became obso- 
 
 1 See last Edition of Shakspeare, vol. III. p. 586.
 
 xii MR. REED'S PR.EFACE 
 
 lete, the humour which they possessed was lost, 
 and all the allusions, which depended on temporary 
 circumstances, being forgotten, grew tasteless and 
 insipid. The refinements of French manners also 
 created a disgust at the coarseness which was com- 
 mon in the conversation of our forefathers ; and, 
 though there was no improvement in the morals of 
 the people, it must be acknowledged, that an affec- 
 tation of delicacy reigned, totally inconsistent with 
 those gross and vulgar modes of expression so 
 frequently to be found in ancient writers. 
 
 The first attempts in any art are always rude and 
 imperfect, more calculated to exercise the sagacity 
 of an antiquary, than to gratify a taste rendered 
 delicate by being accustomed to the improvements 
 which luxury and riches introduce. The polish of 
 modern fashions ill agrees with the barbarity of 
 ancient manners. The early efforts of our ances- 
 tors in the dramatic walk were therefore soon laid 
 aside : their pictures of human fife were exchanged 
 for scenes displaying the follies of the day ; which, 
 in their turn, have submitted to the same fate, being 
 at this time as little adapted to furnish an evening's 
 entertainment at the theatre, as many of the for- 
 gotten dramas in the present volumes. Congreve, 
 Yanbrugh, and Gibber, now exhibit characters 
 almost as obsolete as those of Ben Jonson, or 
 Beaumont and Fletcher ; and if such names as the 
 latter cannot ensure a continuance of fame, the
 
 MR. REED S PREFACE. xili 
 
 Dekkars, Middletons, Chapmans, and Marstons, 
 their contemporaries, must give up their claim to 
 immortality without a murmur. 
 
 It is a misfortune which must attend all who write 
 for the stage, that their happiest exertions in deli" 
 neating life and manners lose their force in the 
 course of a few years, and the more faithfully they 
 are painted, the sooner their colouring dies away. 
 The whimsical caprices of fashion are perpetually 
 changing, and, as they pass daily before our eyes, 
 seldom leave any memorial of their existence. 
 They sometimes are almost literally the children of 
 a day ; and when they expire, so much of the 
 attraction as depends on such transient circum- 
 stances is necessarily lost. That no small stress is 
 laid on what cannot be long relished, may be seen 
 by the practice of modern writers. It may be 
 asked, who has with more success than the late Mr. 
 Foote catched the fleeting Cynthia of a minute ? 
 whose dramatic pieces afforded more satisfaction 
 on the stage ? Yet, with all that unequalled facility 
 of transferring characters from life to the theatre 
 which he possessed, his works are already laid 
 aside, and must, if they are remembered a century 
 hence, be indebted to the industry of some painful 
 searcher into antiquity for recovering lost allusions 
 and forgotten facts. The truth is, there are few 
 but prefer the applause of those they live with to 
 the approbation of succeeding times. Their repre-
 
 xiv MR REED'S PREFACE. 
 
 sentations therefore are often so closely connected 
 with the fluctuations of fashion, that it has some- 
 times been necessary for an author to be his own 
 commentator. Gibber lived to see the characters 
 of his own coxcombs become obsolete ; and, not 
 very late in life*, was obliged to point out the 
 distinction between the fops he had drawn, and the 
 new race of these insignificant beings which had 
 sprung up to succeed them. Can it then be won- 
 dered at, that we no longer receive pleasure from 
 the exhibition of the Foppingtons and Fashions, 
 which afforded so much entertainment to the fre- 
 quenters of our theatres at the beginning of this 
 century ? That the charm is now lost, must be feit 
 every time these characters appear on the stage. 
 The humour of them is so interwoven with fashions 
 now no longer familiar, that some late attempts to 
 adapt them to modern manners have only contri- 
 buted to destroy the remains of spirit and meaning 
 which were left in them. 
 
 If the works of writers so near our own days so 
 soon lose their effect, and the restoration of them 
 to the theatre is become a task of such difficulty, 
 the exclusion of performances of a more remote 
 period will scarcely be considered as a very for- 
 midable objection to the merit of them. In fact, 
 the same causes have had the same effects in both 
 cases ; and at present the earliest pieces are likely 
 
 a See his Apology, p. 303. edit. 1730.
 
 MR. REEDS PREFACE. XV 
 
 to be more read, and better understood, than even 
 those of only fifty years standing. At a time when 
 destruction seemed to threaten most of the pro- 
 ductions of the early stage, and after, it is to be 
 feared, many of them were irrecoverably lost, the 
 explanation of those writers, who may be esteemed 
 the classics of this country, begun to engage the 
 attention of some of the ablest writers of the pre- 
 sent times. Struck with the absurd alterations and 
 wild conjectures of critics, who mangled and dis- 
 figured tbeir authors, instead of elucidating their 
 obscurity, they determined to search into contem- 
 porary writers for a solution of such doubts as had 
 been created chiefly by time. The success which 
 attended their enquiries soon shewed the necessity 
 of an acquaintance with works which had until then 
 been overlooked, to obtain a perfect knowledge of 
 some of our most esteemed authors. It shewed 
 also, that many beauties had long remained un- 
 known and unnoticed; that fame had not always 
 accompanied worth ; and that those \vho wished for 
 information concerning ancient manners would not 
 be able to obtain it so well from any other source. 
 When the value of such kind of performances 
 became known, other difficulties arose ; the ma- 
 terials, which were to answer these excellent pur- 
 poses, were not to be obtained by those who were 
 best able to make use of them. Works, which 
 cease to be popular, are in a short time destroyed ;
 
 xvi MR. REED'S PREFACE, 
 
 the fugitive pieces of all ages would soon perish, 
 on account of the slender form of their publication, 
 if they were not from time to time collected and 
 published in a manner more likely to ensure their 
 duration. As the use of such collections is now 
 confessed on all hands, it is to be lamented that 
 care was not taken sooner to preserve such slight 
 performances from the ravages of time and acci- 
 dent. What might have been accomplished with 
 the greatest ease in the last century is now become 
 an undertaking of much difficulty. Many works 
 are totally lost; some are already become as 
 valuable as manuscripts ; and of several, the best 
 editions are to be sought after in vain. The 
 industry of a few persons hath lately been employed, 
 with much credit to themselves, in forming colleo 
 tions which have been of singular advantage to the 
 public, as may be seen in some late publications ; 
 and the liberality of the present age is in nothing 
 more remarkable, than in the alacrity with which 
 the possessors of such curiosities communicate 
 them to those who have occasion to consult them. 
 
 The present volumes were originally compiled 
 from the only collection then known to exist, that 
 which had been formed by the Earls of Oxford. 
 This afterwards came into the possession of the 
 late Mr. Garrick ; and, with great additions, hath 
 since been bequeathed by him to The British 
 Museum. The mention of this gentleman's name
 
 MR. REED'S PREFACE. xvii 
 
 naturally reminds the Editor, that he should be 
 deficient in point of gratitude, if he omitted to 
 notice the readiness with which he was allowed the 
 free use of whatever Mr. Garrick's library contained 
 for the service of this work. It is no extravagant 
 compliment to the memory of a man, who hath 
 contributed more to the public entertainment than 
 any person of the present age ; that in this parti- 
 cular he had, as in many other parts of his character, 
 no superior, and scarcely an equal. His wish to 
 forward any literary undertaking is too well 
 knoAvn, and hath been too often acknowledged by 
 those who were obliged to him, to need any eulo- 
 gium on this subject at present ; and his death 
 cannot but occasion a sigh to arise in the breast of 
 every one who had the happiness of his acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 As the public hath long been in possession of the 
 present work, it will perhaps be deemed unneces- 
 sary to take up the reader's time in pointing out 
 the value of what he is about to peruse. It may, 
 however, be with decency asserted, that it is cal- 
 culated to afford a great degree of entertainment to 
 those who would be acquainted from what slight 
 beginnings the English theatre arose to its present 
 state of improvement. It will shew the progress 
 of genius in the course of more than a century ; 
 and it will exhibit a specimen of almost every author 
 who contributed to support the stage during that 
 
 c
 
 XV111 MR. REED S PREFACE. 
 
 period. The vices and follies, the manners, cus- 
 toms, fashions, caprices, and pursuits of our ances- 
 tors, will here pass in review before us ; and in so 
 lively a manner, that he who would draw a com- 
 parison between the modes of living of the present 
 and former times, may be furnished with materials 
 to make his judgment from. If he should chance 
 to find any thing offensive to delicacy, he will recol- 
 lect the times in which these Plays appeared are 
 not to be commended for the observation of a strict 
 decorum. There are many proofs, that the courts 
 of Elizabeth, and her two successors, were ex- 
 tremely licentious in conversation ; and it would be 
 vain to expect a greater degree of chastity at the 
 public theatres, than was to be found where Royalty 
 resided, especially when it is known that each 
 sovereign was in this particular highly censurable. 
 
 The first Edition of the present Volumes was one 
 of the many excellent plans produced by the late 
 Mr. Robert Dodsley, a man to whom literature is 
 under so many obligations, that it would be un- 
 pardonable to neglect this opportunity of informing 
 those who may have received any pleasure from the 
 work, that they owe it to a person whose merit and 
 abilities raised him from an obscure situation in life 
 to affluence and independence. Modest, sensible, 
 and humane, he retained the virtues which first 
 brought him into notice, after he had, obtained 
 wealth sufficient to satisfy every wish which could
 
 MR. REKD S PREFACE. XIX 
 
 arise from the possession of it. He was a generous 
 friend, an encourager of men of genius ; and ac- 
 quired the esteem and respect of all who were 
 acquainted with him. It was his happiness to pass 
 the greater part of his life with those whose names 
 will be revered by posterity ; by most of whom he 
 was loved as much for the virtues of his heart, as 
 he was admired on account of his excellent 
 writings. After a life spent in the exercise of every 
 social duty, he fell a martyr to the gout, at the 
 house of a friend 3 , in the year 1764, when he had 
 nearly arrived at the age of 61 years. 
 
 From this digression, if it may be called one, let 
 us return to what introduced it, the former edition 
 of this collection. It hath been customary with 
 those who have given new editions of works which 
 have exercised the abilities of other persons, to be 
 very diffuse in pointing out the defects of their 
 predecessors, and to dwell with great satisfaction 
 on mistakes, which the most careful editors cannot 
 avoid falling into. This practice is the more to be 
 condemned, as every person who has had any 
 concern in undertakings of this kind, must be con- 
 vinced of the fallibility of all claims to unerring 
 perfection. When Mr. Dodsley undertook the 
 present publication, the duties of an editor of English 
 works were not so well understood as they have 
 been since. The collation of copies had not at 
 8 Mr. Spence, at Durham.
 
 XX MR. REED S PREFACE. 
 
 that time been practised in any case that the editor 
 is informed of (for it is certain neither Theobald, 
 nor any other editor of Shakespeare, nor either of 
 the gentlemen who had published Chaucer or 
 Spenser, had any claim to praise on this account), 
 and a knowledge of the writings of contemporary 
 authors was still less deemed necessary. In con- 
 sequence of these false ideas of the requisites which 
 an editor ought to possess, there are some imper- 
 fections in the former edition, which would have 
 been avoided had the same person lived to super- 
 intend a republication of his work. One of these 
 faults arose from his reliance on the first copy of a 
 play, sometimes the most erroneous one, which 
 chance put into his hand ; but the most material 
 was from his want of acquaintance with the litera- 
 ture of (the last century. This latter circumstance 
 occasioned many words and phrases which were 
 obscure, or not understood, to be changed for 
 others more familiar and intelligible. As fidelity in 
 publishing any author is an indispensable quality in 
 an editor, the liberty which Mr. Dodsley ventured 
 upon is certainly not to be defended or excused. 
 His several innovations have therefore been silently 
 removed, without burthening the page with an 
 unnecessary note, except where the words restored 
 required an explanation. The different copies by 
 which the present edition has been collated, are set 
 down at the end of each play.
 
 MR. REEDS PREFACE. XXI 
 
 In printing the text, the Editor hath been 
 careful not to fall into the error of his predecessor, 
 and therefore hath scarcely ever indulged himself 
 in alterations from conjecture. The many experi- 
 ments of this kind which were made by the first 
 editors of Shakespeare and other writers, and the 
 futility of them all, as hath appeared from the 
 enquiries of later commentators, have sufficiently 
 convinced him that such a mode of getting rid of 
 the difficulties which occur in ancient writers, is 
 more calculated to shew the boldness of the critic, 
 than to give credit to his knowledge, either of the 
 authors, or the habits, fashions, humours, or customs, 
 of former times. He hath, therefore, in not more 
 than two or three instances, departed from the 
 text, and never without noting the variation, that no 
 one who may choose the rejected words, or is able 
 to explain them to his satisfaction, may be obliged 
 to quit the old copies, if they shall be deemed 
 intitled to a preference. 
 
 In commenting on the several plays, the Editor 
 hath generally had recourse to contemporary 
 writers, for the explanations of words or phrases 
 which are peculiar to the times ; and the same 
 practice hath been observed in elucidating the 
 particular customs which are referred to in the 
 several volumes. In the course of these remarks, 
 the reader will see how much the present collection 
 hath been indebted to the late edition of Shake-
 
 xxii MR. REED'S PREFACE. 
 
 speare. As it cannot be expected that many will 
 become purchasers of these volumes who are not 
 possessed of that work, it hath generally been 
 referred to in the course of the several notes. It 
 would be some satisfaction to the Editor, if he 
 could say, that all the obscurities which are to be 
 found were completely explained; and he is sorry 
 to acknowledge, that several remain unattempted. 
 They are, however, not very numerous, and will, 
 he thinks, be entitled to the pardon of every candid 
 reader. To throw light on every difficult passage 
 in such a work as the present, requires more 
 reading than can be expected from any one person. 
 It was very soon after this collection went to the 
 press, that the Editor became convinced how im- 
 perfectly the task which he had entered upon 
 would be performed, if he was to depend entirely 
 on his own endeavours ; and, very fortunately, that 
 aid which he wished for was offered him, in the 
 politest manner, by a gentleman to whom he is 
 under many great obligations, besides his commu- 
 nications to this work. When it is known, that to 
 him the public are indebted for all the notes signed 
 with the letter S, the reader will regret that there 
 are not a greater proportion of the whole number 
 under that signature. From another gentleman, 
 whose knowledge in antiquarian subjects the world 
 hath been long acquainted with, the notes marked 
 S. P. were received; and those which have the
 
 MR. REED'S PREFACE. xxiii 
 
 letter N annexed to them, are such observations as 
 occurred to the printer of the first six volumes, in 
 reading the proof sheets. To all these gentlemen 
 the editor esteems himself much indebted for theif 
 kindness and attention. From them arises the 
 principal assistance he hath to boast of. A very 
 few notes marked with different letters he was 
 favoured with by other friends, to whom he begs 
 here to make his acknowledgments. And he hath 
 many reasons to flatter himself, that the commen- 
 tary would have been much enlarged from other 
 quarters, if a diffidence of his abilities for the under- 
 taking had not deterred him from solicitation. 
 
 There are two alterations in the present edition 
 from the former, which he believes will need no 
 apology. These are, the arrangement of the plays, 
 now changed according to the chronological order 
 in which they were published, and the removal of 
 some, which were formerly printed, for others 
 which seem to have a fairer claim to being pre- 
 served. Some of these rejected pieces have been 
 lately published in a complete edition of one author; 
 and the others are such as have been thrown out 
 by the advice of a gentleman whose sentiments 
 concerning them must be confirmed by every one 
 who will afford them a perusal 4 . 
 
 * The following is a list of the rejected plays : 
 
 1 Mustapha, by Lord Brooke- 
 
 2 The Shepherd's Holiday, by Joseph Rutter.
 
 xxiv MR. REED'S PREFACE. 
 
 Besides the notes already mentioned, the prin- 
 cipal additions are, a fuller account of the several 
 authors than Mr. Dodsley's plan allowed him to 
 give. The History of the Stage is also continued 
 from the Time of the Restoration to the year 1776; 
 but, in this part of the undertaking, a want of 
 materials bath so often occurred, that the editor is 
 convinced of the imperfect manner in which it is 
 
 3. The City Madam, 
 
 4. A New Way to pay old Debts, 
 
 5. The Guardian, \by Massinger. 
 
 6. The Unnatural Combat, 
 7- The Picture, 
 
 8. The Lost Lady, by Sir William Barclay. 
 
 9. The Marriage Night, by Lord Falkland. 
 
 10. Love will find out the Way, by T. B- 
 
 This is no more than Shirley's Constant Maid- 
 
 11. All Mistaken; or, The Mad Couple, by James Howard. 
 
 12. The Revenge ; or, A Match in Newgate. 
 
 This is Marston's Dutch Courtezan, altered by Betterton. 
 
 Instead of which are inserted, 
 
 1. The First Part of Jeronymo. 
 
 2. The Second Part of the Honest Whore, byTho. Dekkar. 
 S. All Fools, by George Chapman- 
 
 4. The Miseries of Inforced Marriage, by Geo. Wilkins. 
 
 5. Ram Alley, by Lodowick Barry. 
 
 6. The Roaring Girl, by Middleton and Dekker. 
 
 7. The FourPrentises of London, by Thomas Heywood. 
 
 8. The Jew of Malta, by Christopher Marlow. 
 
 9. The Wits, by Sir William Davenant- 
 
 10. Chichevache and Bycorne-
 
 MR. REED'S PREFACE. xxv 
 
 executed, without being able to make any im- 
 provement in it. He is surprized to find so little 
 has been written on a subject from which so much 
 of the amusement of. life is derived ; and, if the 
 slight sketch now given should tempt any person 
 who has more industry and better opportunities of 
 acquiring information to complete what is here left 
 undone, the editor will not think his time entirely 
 mis-spent. 
 
 How far the present edition of Mr. Dodsley's 
 work is calculated to answer what the public have 
 a right to demand, the editor is afraid to reflect 
 on. It was begun at first merely for amusement ; 
 and hath been carried on through much ill health, 
 and with many real doubts of his ability to finish it 
 in such a manner as to merit applause. He hath 
 not been seduced by vanity so far as not to per- 
 ceive the many defects which will be found in his 
 part of these volumes. He is truly sensible of 
 them ; but can at the same time declare, they have 
 not been caused by any relaxation of his endea- 
 vours to render the performance as perfect as he 
 was able. Whatever is the determination con- 
 cerning it (though the subject is what he acknow- 
 ledges himself to feel some anxiety about), he pro- 
 fesses himself not to have the slightest inclination 
 to dispute the propriety of any censure which may 
 be passed on his labours, either in part, or in the 
 whole. Perfectly satisfied with the pleasure he has
 
 xxvi MR. REED'S PREFACE. 
 
 received in the course of this work, he hath no 
 expectation or wish for fame, on account of his 
 concern in it. The employment hath been a very 
 agreeable one to him. It hath soothed many an 
 hour when depressed by sickness and pain ; and 
 hath contributed, in some measure, to the happi- 
 ness of his life, by the opportunity which he hath 
 by means of it enjoyed of becoming known to 
 several gentlemen, whose friendship and acquaint- 
 ance he esteem's highly honourable to him. To 
 those who may be dissatisfied with the manner in 
 which this work is conducted, he can only say, that 
 the undertaking appeared to him much easier be- 
 fore he engaged in it, than he found afterwards in 
 its progress through the press. He might safely 
 rely on the candour of those who have experienced 
 the trouble and difficulty attending such perform- 
 ances as the present ; and to those who have not, 
 could wish to address himself in the words of one 
 who had, says the gentleman who quotes him, long 
 laboured in the province of editorial drudgery ; 
 and who thus appeals to the judgment and bene- 
 volence of the reader: " If thou ever wert an 
 " editor of such books, thou wilt have some com- 
 " passion on my failings, being sensible of the toil 
 " of such sort of creatures ; and, if thou art not 
 " yet an editor, I beg truce of thee till thou art 
 " one before thou censurest my endeavours."
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 TO SIR CLEMENT COTTEREL DORMER, KNIGHT. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 IF there be anything in this Collection worthy of 
 being preserved it is to you the public is indebted 
 for the benefit. Your obliging readiness to com- 
 municate the stores of which you were possessed, 
 encouraged me to undertake the design, which 
 otherwise I should have despaired of prosecuting 
 with success. Under the sanction of your name, 
 therefore, I beg leave to shelter the remains of 
 these old dramatic writers, which but for your 
 generosity had fallen with their authors into utter 
 oblivion. To your candour I submit the pains I 
 have taken to give a tolerably correct edition of 
 them, and am with great respect, 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Your most obliged, 
 and obedient 
 
 humble Servant, 
 
 R. DODSLEY.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 WHEN I first conceived the design of collecting 
 together the best and scarcest of our old Plays, I 
 had no intention to do more than search out the 
 several authors, select what was good from each, 
 and give as correct an edition of them as 1 could. 
 This I thought would at once serve as a specimen 
 of the different merits of the writers, and shew the 
 humours and manners of the times in which they 
 lived. But as the public has been so kind to 
 favour me with much greater encouragement than 
 I expected, I thought it my duty to omit nothing 
 that might conduce either to the greater perfection 
 of the work, or their better entertainment. It was 
 this consideration which led me to think of prefix- 
 ing to each Play, where any materials were to be 
 had, a brief account of the life and writings of its 
 
 5 The Notes to this Preface signed D, are those originally 
 added to it by Mr. Dodsley; those subscribed I. R. are by 
 the late Mr. Reed; and the remainder with the initial C. 
 are by the present Editor.
 
 xxx MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 author ; and also, by way of Preface, a short his- 
 torical essay on the rise and progress of the English 
 stage, from its earliest beginnings, to the death of 
 king Charles the First, when play-houses were 
 suppressed. But in the prosecution of both these 
 designs I have been so crossed with a want of ma- 
 terials, that I am afraid what I intended should 
 merit thanks, must barely hope for pardon. 
 
 Before I proceed to my principal design, it may 
 not be unentertaining to the reader just to take a 
 view of the great similarity that appears in the rise 
 and progress of the modern stage in all the prin- 
 cipal countries of Europe. 
 
 ITALIAN THEATRE. 
 
 The Italian is perhaps the earliest of the modern 
 theatres ; nay, they pretend it was never entirely 
 silent from the imperial times. But though there 
 might be some insipid buffooneries performed by 
 idle people strolling about from town to town, and 
 acting in open and public places to the mob they 
 gathered round them ; yet they had no poetry till 
 the time of the frovencals 6 , nor any thing like a 
 
 6 Bouche, in his History of Provence, says, the Provencal 
 poets began to be esteemed throughout Europe in the 
 twelfth century, and were at the height of their credit 
 about the middle of the fourteenth. Their poetry consisted 
 of Pastorals, Songs, Sonnets, Syrventes and Tensons, i. e. 
 Satires and Love-disputes. And in the list of their poets
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PRRFACT. xxxi 
 
 theatre, till they began to exhibit the Mysteries of 
 Religion. And these, as is affirmed by Octavio 
 Pancirolli, in his Tesoro Nascosto di Roma, begun 
 but with the establishment of the fraternity del 
 Gonfalone in the year 1264 : from the statutes of 
 which company he quotes the following paragraph : 
 ' The principal design of our fraternity, being to 
 ' represent the passion of Jesus Christ; we ordain, 
 ' that when the mysteries of the said passion are 
 ' represented, our ancient orders be ever observed ; 
 ' together with what shall be prescribed by the 
 ' general congregation.' But Crescimbeni, in his 
 History of Poetry, says, the first piece of this na- 
 ture was written by Francis Beliari on the story of 
 Abraham and Isaac ; and acted at Florence, in the 
 church of St. Mary Magdalen, about 1449; and 
 that about the same time, or soon after, the His- 
 tory of Christ's Passion was first represented in the 
 
 are found persons of the first dignity: in particular the 
 Emperor Frederick the First, and our King Richard, sur- 
 named Cceur de Lion. This poetry received its fatal stroke 
 in the death of Joan the First, Queen of Naples, and Coun- 
 tess of Provence ; for neither Lewis the First, her adopted 
 son, nor Lewis the Second, his successor, shewed any re- 
 gard to it. Lejin de cette pogsie fut le commencement de celle 
 des Ilaliens ; for all there before Dante" were rather rhiraers 
 than poets : he and Petrarch were les deu.t vrayes Jbnlaines 
 de la po'esie Italtienne ; mais fontaines, qui prirent leurs sources 
 dans la po^sie Proven f ale. PASQTIER RECH. 60.5. D.
 
 xxxii MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 Coliseum at Rome. These two accounts I leave 
 to be adjusted by the critics. 
 
 SPANISH THEATRE. 
 
 The Spanish Theatre boasts great antiquity; 
 but it is difficult to fix its precise aera. Their first 
 theatrical pieces were small farces of one Act 
 called Entermises, or Jordanas, which they per- 
 formed in thorough-fares, or the most public places 
 of the towns. The action of the piece turned upon 
 some subject of ridiculous and low life ; which 
 being heightened with strokes of wit and satire, 
 and performed with antic gestures, made an enter- 
 tainment not much unlike the Latin Mimes. To 
 these succeeded what they called the Autos Sacra- 
 mentales ; being indeed mysteries, but more artifi- 
 cial than those of the rest of Europe, which were 
 simple representations, while these were always 
 allegorical. There are prodigious numbers of 
 them in Spain, but those of Calderon are reckoned 
 the best.* 
 
 -i 
 
 * So strong a resemblance exists in many points between 
 the origin, progress, and perfection of the English and 
 Spanish stages, that it has been thought fit to subjoin a 
 fuller account, of the latter, drawn from the best sources. 
 
 C. 
 
 Luzan, the author of the Poetica, a work of much au- 
 thority in Spain, refers to the Leyes de la partida de A!omo }
 
 iyiR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. xxxiii 
 
 FRENCH THEATRE. 
 
 The French pretend to draw the original of 
 their drama from the Provencal poets in the thir- 
 
 to prove that dramatic representations commenced in Spain 
 in the middle of the 13th century: one lav/ expressly com- 
 mands that the clergy shall not act juegos de escarnios (plays 
 of scoffing or ridicule) but permits them to represent mysteries 
 of the birth, passion, and resurrection of Christ ; it also ex- 
 pressly forbids the use of the religious habit in the former. 
 Hence it is deduced that both religious and profane dramatic 
 representations were then exhibited, and it has been also 
 asserted that actors by profession were known at the same 
 time. There can be no doubt that acting mysteries formed 
 part of the education of the ecclesiastics in the monasteries 
 even to a comparatively late date. Bias Nasarre, the 
 recent Editor of the Plays of Cervantes, states that it was 
 the custom of the pilgrims of that age to act mysteries in 
 the market places and even in the churches. The Autos 
 Sacramenlalrs had their origin in these Spanish mysteries 
 which like our own were filled with absurd allegories, and 
 personifications, and the grossest anachronisms. The jesters 
 and buffoons of that time were called Zahorrones and Reme- 
 dadores, and were made infamous by the law of Alonzo the 
 Wise : the Mayas and Diablillos (little devils) were not 
 allowed to cross the threshold of a church. The Court 
 of Arragon began to patronize and cultivate poetry 
 under the name of la qaya cicncia, towards the end of 
 the 14th century ; and the dramatic part of it con- 
 sisted of dialogues and fancies of various kinds. The 
 colleges at Toulouse and Barcelona, for the cultivation of 
 poetry, were reformed and perfected by Don John I., Don 
 
 d
 
 xxxiv MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 teenth century. I suppose because one Nouez, 
 who died in the year 1220, is mentioned by Nos- 
 
 Martin, and Don Ferdinand the Honest, and the monarchs 
 themselves assisted in the representation of what were 
 termed Dilados, Trolas, and Dialogos : John I. brought from 
 Provence for this purpose, the most celebrated poets, players, 
 and dancers. After the college of the Troubadours was re- 
 moved to Castille the dramatic art seems for some -time to 
 have remained stationary. Cervantes, in the preface to his 
 plays, claims to be the first who personified the passions on 
 the stage ; but this pretension seems hardly consistent with 
 the accounts of the Chroniclers and with what is known of 
 the productions of Juan de Encina, who flourished circa 
 1480. The production about the year 1400, of a pastoral 
 called MingoRebulgo, attributed to Rodrigo de Cota, is con- 
 sidered an epoch in the history of Spanish dramatic poetry: 
 he also wrote a piece in no less than twenty-one Acts en- 
 titled Calislus and Melilxa, which probably, therefore, was 
 never represented, and of which many imitations were 
 published. Lopa de Rueda, a native of Seville and a 
 famous actor, is deemed the first who by his writings gave 
 a distinguishing character to Spanish Comedy. Cervantes 
 (Preface to his Plays) gives a curious account of the pro- 
 perties of a theatre before the time of Rueda : " all the 
 " furniture and utensils of the actors were contained in one 
 " sack, consisting of four beards and perriwigs, and four 
 " pastoral crooks." He also mentions that he was the first 
 to divide plays into three acts, but Lope de Vega in his Arle 
 de hacer Comedias, assigns this merit to an earlier author 
 of the name of Virues : others attribute the invention to 
 Nabarro. From this date the Spanish stage was inundated 
 with plays divided into Jornadas or acts, and Montalban 
 says, that Lope de Vega himself wrote 1800 of them.
 
 MR. DODSLEY ? S PREFACE. XXXV 
 
 tradamus as a good actor. This man, by going 
 about to the houses of the nobility, singing, danc- 
 ing, and making faces, gained not only a good 
 livelihood, but much applause. He had, they tell 
 us, the art of speaking either in a man's or woman's 
 key, and by changing his accent, gesture, and 
 countenance at pleasure, could himself personate 
 two actors. These kinds of extempore farces, or 
 dialogues, continued till they were displaced by 
 the exhibition of the mysteries. The first, of 
 which we have any account, was the mystery of 
 the Passion, represented at St. Maur's in 1398. 
 
 Lnzan separates the history of the Spanish stage into the 
 four following epochs. 1. The ancient condones, villanescas, 
 and dialogos, which during the 14th century, were sung and 
 acted by the authors, or by public jesters or players : no 
 material change occurred until the commencement of the 
 iGth century. 2. Pastorals and humorous colloquies in 
 which Lope de Rueda gained such reputation, and which 
 he himself improved: these continued fur about 50 years. 
 
 3. Farces and pieces of comedy in three acts, invented by 
 Virues, Cervantes, or Nabarro, and for writing which Juan de 
 la Cueva was also celebrated : this species of entertain- 
 ment was preserved until the close of the lo'th century. 
 
 4. The perfection of the Spanish Drama in the latter enu 
 of the iCth and beginning of the 17th century, after Lope 
 de Vega had produced his Jacinlo, followed by the plays of 
 Calderon and others. 
 
 It is evident that Luzan in this division does not profess 
 to go so far back as the age of mysteries, which preceded 
 the cancioncs. villanacas, and dialogos of which Le first speaks.
 
 XXXVI MR. DODSLEY S PREFACE. 
 
 But the French Theatre, though it got as early rid 
 of these barbarities as any other, yet continued 
 long very rude and imperfect, a"nd destitute of all 
 good comedy till the time of Corneille and Moliere ; 
 the former born in 1606 7 , the latter in 1621 8 . 
 
 DUTCH THEATRE. 
 
 The Dutch Theatre had its original from what 
 they call in that country Reden Rychkers Kameran, 
 that is, companies or societies of rhetoricians and 
 poets, not unlike the academies in Italy. The 
 members of these societies were the wits of the 
 place, who, when any one was married, buried, 
 preferred to an office, &c. were applied to for 
 epithalamiums, elegies, or panegyric. They also 
 composed theatrical pieces, which they acted in 
 the society-room; from whence these old pieces 
 are called Society Plays, as those of Italy were 
 called Academy Plays. Sometimes the Reden 
 Rychkers, or poets of one v.illage, went to perform 
 their pieces at fair times in another ; which, in its 
 turn, gave the first its revenge. Sometimes 
 again, the poets of one village disputed the prize 
 of wit with the poets of another, in extempore 
 pieces. These kinds of entertainments, if they 
 can be properly called theatrical, are said to be as 
 old as the Provinces themselves ; but the most 
 eminent piece of their more reformed theatre is, 
 7 He died 1684. 8 He died 1673.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. xxxvii 
 
 De Spiegel der Minne, the Mirror of Love ; written 
 by Colin Van Ryssele, and printed at Haerlen in 
 1561. The Dutch, like all other theatres in their 
 state of ignorance, had a great passion for the 
 marvellous. In one of their old tragedies a prin- 
 cess has her lover's head before her on a plate : to 
 this she sits down and addresses herself, and re- 
 ceives as pertinent answers as if it had been still 
 upon his shoulders. But the Dutch Theatre is 
 now more refined; and these extravagances are 
 seldom represented but on some state-holiday, to 
 please the common people. 
 
 GERMAN THEATRE. 
 
 The Germans deduce the first rise of their 
 theatre from the ancient bards, who used to sing 
 the eulogies of their heroes ; and I believe with 
 just as much truth as the French do theirs from 
 the Provencals. To these bards, they tell us, suc- 
 ceeded their Master Sanger, that is, Master 
 Singers ; who formed themselves into societies in 
 all the principal cities of Germany. One of these 
 merry societies is actually subsisting at Strasburg 
 to this day, composed of shoemakers, tailors, 
 weavers, millers, &c. who enjoy certain privileges, 
 which they pretend were granted them by Otho 
 the Great and Maximilian the First : but neither 
 did these attempt any thing dramatic till after the
 
 xxxviii MR.. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 fifteenth century *. About the middle of the six- 
 teenth, a shoe-maker at Nuremburgh, named 
 Haanssacks, composed many dramatic pieces, both 
 sacred and profane. Amongst the first are Adam 
 and Eve, Jacob and Esau, Esther, Tobias, Job, 
 Judith, the Prodigal Son, and others; among the 
 latter are, Jocasta, Charon, Griselda, the Judgment 
 of Paris, and many others. And this shoe-maker 
 is now in as much honour amongst them for his 
 Mysteries in Poetry, as Jacob Behman, another of 
 the same craft, for his Mysteries in Divinity. But 
 all these were very rude imperfect pieces ; nor did 
 the German Theatre arrive to any tolerable per- 
 fection till after the year 1626, when a company of 
 Dutch players went to Hambourg, and, by exhibit- 
 ing some pieces of a more perfect kind, led them 
 to a better taste. It is not forty years since the 
 Mystery of the Passion was exhibited at Vienna. 
 It consisted of five Acts, and represented in order 
 the Terrestrial Paradise ; the Creation of Adam 
 and Eve, their Fall; the Death of Abel; Moses 
 in the Desert ; the Travels of Joseph, Mary, and 
 
 * Dr. Percy quotes M. 1'Enfant, the historian of the 
 Council of Constance, to shew that the English were the 
 first to introduce plays into Germany in 1417; the Nativity 
 of the Saviour, having been represented by the English 
 fathers before the Emperor on the yist of January in that 
 year. C.
 
 MR. DODSLEY 8 PREFACE. XXXIX 
 
 the child Jesus, into Egypt. Jesus was repre- 
 sented by a full-grown lad ; but to shew that he 
 was a child, they fed him on the stage with spoon- 
 meat. Then you saw him disputing with the Doc- 
 tors in the Temple, his Prayer in the Garden, his 
 Seizing, his Passion, his Death on the Cross, and 
 his Burial, which closed the representation. Thus 
 all the modern theatres in Europe began with 
 Singing, Dancing, and extempore Dialogues or 
 Farces ; from thence they proceeded to the Mys- 
 teries of Religion ; and till the sixteenth century 
 none of them attempted to exhibit either Tragedy 
 or Comedy. 
 
 ENGLISH THEATRE. 
 
 I come now particularly to consider the rise and 
 progress of the English stage, which was the prin- 
 cipal design of this Preface. It is generally, I 
 believe, imagined, that the English stage rose later 
 than the rest of its neighbours. Those in this 
 opinion will, perhaps, wonder to be told of theatri- 
 cal entertainments almost as early as the Conquest; 
 and yet nothing is more certain, if you will believe 
 an honest monk, one William Stephanides, or 
 Fitz- Step hen, in his JDescriptio NobilissimcE Civi- 
 talis LondonitE, who writes thus: " "London, in- 
 
 9 Lundonia pro spectaculis theatralihus, pro ludis sceni- 
 cis, ludos hadet sauctiores, reprcsentationes miraculorum, 
 quse sancti confessores operati sunt, seu represeiitationes
 
 xl MR. .DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 " stead of common interludes belonging to the 
 " theatre, hath plays of a more holy subject ; re- 
 " presentations of those miracles which the holy 
 " confessors wrought, or of the sufferings wherein 
 " the glorious constancy of the martyrs did ap- 
 " pear." This author was a monk of Canterbury, 
 who wrote in the reign of Henry II. and died in 
 that of Richard I. 1 191 : and as he does not men- 
 tion these representations as novelties to the 
 people (for he is describing all the common diver- 
 sions in use at that time), we can hardly fix them 
 lower than the Conquest *. And this, I believe, is 
 an earlier date than any other nation of Europe 
 can produce for their theatrical representations. 
 About 140 years after this, in the reign of Ed- 
 
 passionum, quibus elaruit constantia martyrum. The 
 whole piece is preserved in Stow, and is very curious. D. 
 
 This curious ancient description of London was repub- 
 lished with Notes, in 4to. I77i>. I. R. 
 
 The author of the dissertation, prefixed to the edition of 
 1772, conjectures that the work was written by Fitzstephens, 
 in or about the year 1 174, and at all events before 1 182. The 
 whole description of London has been discovered to be only 
 part of a larger work, the Life of Thomas a Becket. C. 
 
 * Dr. Percy, in his Essay on the origin of the English 
 stage, establishes from Matthew of Paris, that the Miracle 
 Play of St. Catherine, was acted in the year 1110. It was 
 written by Geoffrey, Abbot of St. Albans, -a Norman. 
 Matthew of Paris calls it quendam ludum de Sancla Kalerina, 
 quern Miracula vulgariler appellamus. C.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. xli 
 
 ward III. it was ordained by Act of Parliameut, 
 that a company of men called Vagrants, who had 
 made masquerades through the whole city, should 
 be whipt out of London, because they represented 
 scandalous things in the little alehouses, and other 
 places where the populace assembled. What the 
 nature of these scandalous things were, we are not 
 told ; whether lewd and obscene, or impious and 
 profane : but I should rather think the former, for 
 the word Masquerades has an ill sound, and, I 
 believe, they were no better in their infancy than 
 at present. 'Tis true, the Mysteries of Religion 
 were soon after this period made very free with all 
 over Europe, being represented in so stupid and 
 ridiculous a manner, that the stories of the New 
 Testament in particular were thought to encourage 
 libertinism and infidelity. In all probability, there- 
 fore, the actors last mentioned were of that species 
 called Mummers ' ; these were wont to stroll about 
 the country dressed in an antic manner, dancing, 
 mimicking, and shewing postures. This custom is 
 still continued in many parts of England ; but it 
 was formerly so general, and drew the common 
 people so much from their business, that it was 
 deemed a very pernicious custom; and as these 
 
 10 A word signifying one who masks and disguises himself 
 to play the fool, without speaking. Hence, perhaps, comes 
 our country word Mum ; hold your tongue, say nothing. D.
 
 xlii MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 Mummers always went masked and disguised, they 
 but. too frequently encouraged themselves to com- 
 mit violent outrages, and were guilty of 11 many 
 lewd disorders. However, as bad as they were, 
 they seem to be the true original comedians of 
 England; and their excellence altogether consisted, 
 as that of their successors does in part still, in 
 mimicry and humour. 
 
 In an Act of Parliament made the 4th year of 
 Henry IV. mention is made of certain Wastors, 
 Master- Rimours, Minstrels, and other vagabonds, 
 who infested the land of Wales ; And it is enacted) 
 that no Master- Kimour, Minstrel, or other vaga- 
 bond, be in any wise sustained in the land of Wales, 
 to make Commoiths or Gatherings upon the people 
 there. What these Master-Rimours were, which 
 were so troublesome in Wales in particular, I 
 cannot tell ; possibly they might be the degenerate 
 descendants of the ancient bards. It is also diffi- 
 cult to determine what is meant by their making 
 Commoiths. The word signifies in Welch, any 
 district, or part of a hundred or cantred, containing 
 about one half of it ; that is, 50 villages ; and might 
 possibly be made use of by these Master-Rimours 
 
 11 These disorders afterwards so much increased, that in 
 the third year of Henry VIII. an Act was made against 
 Mummers, in which the penalty for selling visors, or keep- 
 ing them in any house, was 20 shillings each visor. Vide 
 Statutes. D.
 
 MR. DO DS LEY'S PREFACE. xliii 
 
 when they had fixed upon a place to act in, and 
 gave intimation thereof for ten or twelve miles 
 round, which is a circuit that I believe will take in 
 about 50 villages. And that this was commonly 
 done, appears from Carew's Survey of Cornwall, 
 which was wrote in Queen Elizabeth's time*. 
 Speaking of the diversions of the people, " The 
 " Guary-Miracle (says he), in English a Miracle- 
 " Play, is a kind- of interlude compiled in Cornish, 
 " out of some Scripture-History. For represent- 
 " ing it they raise an amphitheatre in some open 
 " field, having the diameter of his inclosed plain, 
 " some 40 or 50 foot. The country people flock 
 " from all sides many miles oft', to see and hear it; 
 " for they have therein devils and devices to de- 
 " light as well the eye as the ear." Mr. Carew 
 has not been so exact as to give us the time when 
 these Guary- Miracles were exhibited in Cornwall; 
 but, by the manner of it, the custom seems to be 
 very ancient. 
 
 The year l.'j/S is the earliest date I can find, in 
 which express mention is made of the representa- 
 tion of mysteries in England. In this year the 
 scholars of Paul's school presented a petition to 
 Richard II. praying his Majesty " to prohibit some 
 " unexpert people from presenting the History of 
 " the Old Testament, to the great prejudice of the 
 
 * And printed in 1602. C.
 
 xliv MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 " said clergy, who have been at great expence in 
 " order to represent it publicly at Christmas." 
 About twelve years afterwards, viz. in 1390, the 
 Parish-clerks of London are said to have played 
 interludes at Skinners Well r July 18, 19, and 20th. 
 And again, in 1409, the tenth year of Henry IV. 
 they acted at Clerkenwell (which took its name 
 from this custom of the Parish-clerks acting plays 
 there) for eight days successively, a play concern- 
 ing the Creation of the World, at which were 
 present most of the nobility and gentry of the 
 kingdom. These instances are sufficient to prove 
 that we had the mysteries here very early, though 
 perhaps not so soon as some of our neighbours. 
 How long they continued to be exhibited amongst 
 us, cannot be exactly determined. This period 
 one might call the dead sleep of the Muses. And 
 when this was over, they did not presently awake, 
 but, in a kind of morning dream, produced the 
 Mora lities that folio wed*' However, these jumbled 
 ideas had some shadow of a meaning. The mys- 
 teries only represented, in a senseless manner, 
 some miraculous History from the Old or New 
 Testament : but in these Moralities something of 
 
 * Mr. Malone is of opinion in his Historical Account of 
 the English Stage, that the earliest Morality was not produced 
 before 1460. They did not however by any means super- 
 sede Mysteries. C.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 xlv 
 
 design appeared, a fable and a moral ; something 
 also of poetry, the virtues, vices, and other affec- 
 tions of the mind being frequently personified la . 
 12 In an old Morality, entitled All for Money, the Persons 
 of the Drama are : 
 
 Theology. 
 
 Science. 
 
 Art. 
 
 Money. 
 
 Sin. 
 
 Swift to Sin. 
 
 Damnation. 
 
 Satan. 
 
 Pride. 
 
 Gluttony. 
 
 Learning with Money. 
 
 Learning without Money. 
 
 Money without Learning. 
 
 All for Money. 
 
 Neither Money nor Learning. 
 
 Moneyless and Friendless. 
 
 Adulation. 
 
 Mischievous Help. 
 
 Pleasure. 
 
 Prestfor Pleasure. 
 
 Gregory Graceless. 
 
 Moneyless. 
 
 William with the two Wives. 
 
 Nychol. 
 
 S. Lawrence. 
 
 Mother Crooke. 
 
 Judas. 
 
 Dives. 
 
 Godly Admonition. 
 
 Virtue. 
 
 Humility. 
 
 Charity. D. 
 
 This Play was written by Thomas Lupton, and printed 
 in 4to. B. L. 1578. I. R. 
 
 At this date Elizabeth had reigned 20 years ; but from 
 the subsequent lines in the Epilogue, it may perhaps be in- 
 ferred, that the Morality was produced earlier in her reign. 
 
 " Let us praye for the Queenes Majestie, our soveraigne 
 
 governour, 
 
 That she may raigne quietly according to Gods will, 
 Whereby she may suppresse vyce and set foorth Gods 
 
 glorie and honour, 
 And as she hath l-cgnn godly, so to continue still.
 
 xlvi MR. .DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 But the Moralities were also very often concerned 
 wholly in religious matters. For religion then was 
 every one's concern, and it was no wonder if each 
 party employed all arts to promote it. Had they 
 been in use now, they would doubtless have turned 
 as much upon politics. Thus, the New Custom, 
 which I have chosen as a specimen of this kind of 
 writing, was certainly intended to promote the 
 Reformation, when it was revived in the reign 
 of Queen Elizabeth. And in the more early 
 days of the Reformation, it was so common for the 
 partizans of the old doctrines (and perhaps also of 
 the new) to defend and illustrate their tenets 
 this way, that in the 24th year of Henry VIII. 
 in an Act of Parliament made for the pro- 
 moting true religion, I find a clause restraining 
 all rimors or players from singing in songs, or 
 playing in interludes, any thing that should contra- 
 dict the established doctrines. It was also cus- 
 tomary at this time to act these moral and religious 
 dramas in private houses, for edification and im- 
 provement, as well as the diversion of well-disposed 
 families ; and for this purpose, the appearance of 
 
 the lS Persons of the Drama was so disposed, as 
 
 
 
 The title is curious, in as much as it states that the 
 piece was written " plainly to represent the manners of 
 " men, and fashiofi of the world now-a-days." C. 
 13 Vide New Custom, vol. I.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. xlvii 
 
 that five or six actors might represent twenty 
 personages. 
 
 What has been said of the Mysteries and Mora- 
 lities, it is hoped, will be sufficient just to shew the 
 reader what the nature of them was. I should hare 
 been glad to be more particular ; but where mate- 
 rials are not to be had, the building must be 
 deficient. And, to say the truth, a more particular 
 knowledge of these things, any farther than as it 
 serves to shew the turn and genius of our ancestors, 
 and the progressive refinement of our language, 
 was so little worth preserving, that the loss of it is 
 scarce to be regretted. I proceed, therefore, with 
 my subject. The Muse might now be said to be 
 just awake, when she began to trifle in the old 
 interludes, and aimed at something like wit and 
 humour. And for these '* John Heywood the 
 epigrammatist undoubtedly claims the earliest, if 
 not the foremost place. He was jester to king 
 Henry VIII. but lived till the beginning of queen 
 Elizabeth's reign. Gammer Gurtotis Needle, 
 which is generally called our first comedy *, and 
 
 14 What the nature and merit of his interludes were, may 
 be guessed by the specimen I have preserved of them in 
 this collection. Tom Tyler and his Wife, The Disobedient 
 Child, and some others of the same cast, were wrote some- 
 thing later, but not at all better than Heywood, D. 
 
 * The word comedy was very indefinitely employed in 
 the early age of the British Drama, and it did not at all
 
 xlviii MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 not undeservedly, appeared soon after the inter- 
 ludes : it is, indeed, altogether of a comic cast, and 
 wants not humour, though of a low and sordid 
 kind. And now dramatic writers, properly so 
 called, began to appear, and turn their talents to 
 the stage. Henry Parker, son of Sir William 
 Parker, is said to. have wrote several tragedies and 
 comedies in the reign of Henry VIII. and one 
 John Hoker, in 1535, wrote a comedy called Pis- 
 cator, or the Fisher caught. Mr. Richard Edwards, 
 who was born in 1523, and in the beginning of 
 queen Elizabeth's reign, was made one of the gen- 
 tlemen of her majesty's chapel, and master of the 
 
 mean what we now understand by it- Tragedy was even 
 more licentiously used, and frequently had no reference 
 whatever to theatrical representation. Thus Markham's 
 Poem on the death of Sir Richard Grenville, is called 
 " a Tragedy." 
 
 The author of Ilisloria Hislrionica calls Gammer Gurlon's 
 Needle the first production in English " that looks like a 
 " regular comedy ;" but he was not acquainted with a 
 piece, the name of which only was until lately known 
 Ralph Roister Doister. Although the title-page of the unique 
 copy recently discovered is lost, yet in the prologue it is 
 termed " a comedie,or enterlude ;" and it is regularly divided 
 into acts and scenes. It was written by Nicholas Udall, many 
 years before Gammer Gurlon's Needle: he died in all proba- 
 bility nine years before Gammer Gurton's Needle was 
 represented. See a note to vol. II. p. 3, of the present 
 edition of Dodslev's Old Plavs. C.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. xlix 
 
 children there, being both an excellent musician 
 and a good poet, wrote two comedies, called one 
 Palamon and Arcite, in which a cry of hounds in 
 hunting was so well imitated, that the queen and 
 the audience were extremely delighted : the other 
 called Damon and Pithiaa, the ttco faithfullest 
 Friends in the World. This last' I hiive inserted. 
 After him came Thomas Sackville, Lord Buck- 
 hurst and Thomas Norton ls , the writers of Gor- 
 boduc* the first dramatic piece of any considera- 
 tion in the English language. Of these and some 
 others, hear the judgement of Puttenham, in his 
 Art oj Poetry, wrote in the reign of queen Eliza- 
 beth ;f " I think," says he, " that for tragedy the 
 
 is Ferrcx and Porres, here called Gorl-nduc, was probably 
 written earlier than Damon and Pithias. I. R. 
 
 * It does not appear where nor by whom Ralph Roister 
 Doister was acted, but it is clear that neither Gammer 
 Gurton's Needle nor Gurloduc were represented upon public 
 stages ; the first having- been played at Christ's College, 
 Cambridge, and the last by the Students of the Inner 
 Temple. In this view the Tragical Comrdie of A])ius and 
 Virginia, as well as in others pointed out in the introductory 
 observations to it, [See Vol. 12,] may be looked upon as 
 curious. C. 
 
 f Puttenham (if such really were his name'), printed his 
 anonymous work in the year 1589 : an excellent reprint of 
 it was published in 1811, and the merits of the work are 
 sufficiently discussed in the prefatory matter. Brathwaite 
 borrowed most of the remarks upon English poets and 
 poetry in hid E>gli>h Gentleman from Puttenham. C. 
 
 e
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 " Lord of Buckhurst, and Maister Edward Ferrys, 
 " for such doings as I have seen of theirs, do 
 " deserve the highest price : the Earl of Oxford, 
 " and Maister Edwards of her majesty's chapel, 
 " for comedy and interlude." And in another 
 place he says " But the principal man in this 
 " profession (of poetry) at the same time, (viz. 
 " Edward VI.) was Maister Edward Ferrys, a 
 " man of no less mirth and felicity than John 
 " Hey wood, but of much more skill and magni- 
 " ficence in his metre, and therefore wrote for the 
 " most part to the stage in tragedy, and sometimes 
 " in comedy or interlude; wherein he gave the 
 " king so much good recreation, as he had thereby 
 " many good rewards." Of this Edward Ferrys, 
 so considerable a writer, I can find no remains, 
 nor even the titles of any thing he wrote. After 
 these followed John Lillie, famous in his time for 
 wit, and for having greatly improved the English 
 language, in a romance which he wrote, entitled, 
 Euphues and his England 16 , or The Anatomy of 
 Wit; of which it is said by the ^ publisher of his 
 Plays, " Our nation are in his debt for a new 
 " English which he taught them, Euphues and his 
 
 16 Lyly published " Euphues, The Anatomy of Wit, 
 " 4to. 1581 ;" and " Euphues and his England, 4to. 1582." 
 They are two distinct works. I. R. 
 
 17 Mr. Blount, who published six of his Plays in the 
 year 1632. D.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. li 
 
 " England began first that language. All our 
 " ladies were then his scholars, and that beauty in 
 " court who could not parle Euphuism, was as 
 " littie regarded as she which now there speaks not 
 " French." This extraordinary romance, so famous 
 for its wit, so fashionable in the court of Queen 
 Elizabeth, and which is said to have introduced so 
 remarkable a change in our language, I have seen 
 and read . It is an unnatural affected jargon, in 
 
 '* A few sentences from it, will give a taste of the manner 
 of its composition. 
 
 " There must in every triangle lie three lines ; the first 
 " beginneth, the second augmenteth, the third concludeth 
 " it a figure : so in love three virtues ; affection, which 
 " draweth the heart ; secresy, which encreaseth the hope; 
 " constancy, which finisheth the work : without any of 
 " these rules there can be no triangle ; without any of 
 " these virtues, no love." 
 
 Again, " Fire cannot be hidden in the flax without 
 " smoke, nor musk in the bosom without smell, nor love 
 " in the breast without suspicion." 
 
 Once more. " She is the flower of courtesy, the picture 
 *' of comeliness ; one that shameth Venus, being somewhat 
 "fairer, and much more virtuous; and stainetli Diana, 
 " being as chaste, but much more amiable: but the more 
 " beauty she hath, the more pride; and the more virtue, 
 " the more prcciseness. The peacock is a bird for none 
 " but Juno; the dove for none but Vesta; none must wear 
 " Venus in a table but Alexander; none Pallas in a ring 1 
 " but Ulysses : for as there is but one phoenix in the world, 
 " so there is but one tree in Arabia where she buildeth ;
 
 lii MR.. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 which the perpetual use of metaphors, allusions, 
 allegories, and analogies, is to pass for wit; and 
 stiffbombast for language. And with this nonsense 
 the court of Queen Elizabeth (whose times afforded 
 better models for stile and composition, than almost 
 any since) became miserably infected, and greatly 
 helped to let in all the vile pedantry of language in 
 the following reign. So much mischief the most 
 ridiculous instrument may do, when he proposes to 
 improve upon the simplicity of nature. 
 
 Though tragedy and comedy began now to lift 
 up their heads, yet they could do no more for 
 some time than bluster and quibble ; and how 
 imperfect they were in all dramatic art, appears 
 from an excellent criticism of Sir Philip Sidney 19 , 
 
 " and as there is but one Camilla to be heard of, so there is 
 " but one Caesar that she will like of." His Plays are of 
 the same strain, as may be seen by that I have preserved. 
 
 D. 
 
 13 Our tragedies and comedies, says he, observe rules 
 neither of honest civility, nor skilful poetry. Here you 
 shall have Asia of the one side, and Africk of the other, 
 and so many other under kingdoms, that the player when 
 he comes in must ever begin with telling where he is, or 
 else the tale will not be conceived. Now you shall have 
 three ladies walk to gather flowers, and then we must be- 
 lieve the stage to be a garden. By and by .we hear news of 
 a shipwreck in the same place, then we are to blame if we 
 accept it not for a rock. Upon the back of that comes out 
 a hideous monster with fire and smoke, and then the nvse-
 
 MR. nODSLEY'S PREFACE. liii 
 
 on the writers of that time. Yet they seem to 
 have had a disposition to do better had they known 
 how, as appears by the several efforts they used to 
 lick the lump into a shape: for some of their 
 pieces they adorned with dumb shews, some with 
 choruses, and some they introduced and explained 
 by an interlocutor. Yet imperfect as they were, 
 we had made a far better progress at this time than 
 our neighbours, the French : the Italians indeed, 
 by early translations of the old dramatic writers, 
 had arrived to greater perfection ; but we were at 
 least upon a footing with the other nations of 
 Europe. 
 
 But now, as it were, all at once (as it happened 
 
 rable beholders are bound to take it for a cave : while in 
 the mean time two armies flie in, represented with four 
 swords and bucklers ; and then what hard heart will not 
 receive it for a pitched field ? Now of time they are much 
 more liberal. For ordinary it is that two young- princes fall 
 in love, after many traverses she is got with child, deli- 
 vered of a fair boy; he is lost, groweth a man, falleth in 
 love, and is ready to get another child ; and all this in two 
 hours space : which how absurd it is in sense, even sense 
 may imagine. Defence of Poesy. D. 
 
 This tract was first published in 15Q5, under the title of 
 An Apologie for Poetrie, preceded by four sonnets by Henry 
 Constable to Sir Philip Sidney's soul. It was subsequently 
 added to the Arcadia when it was called " A Defence of 
 Poesie," and Constable's sonnets were omitted. Sir P. 
 Sidney, as is well known, was killed in 158G. C.
 
 liv MR, DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 in France, though in a much later period) the true 
 drama received birth and perfection from the creative 
 genius of Shakspeare, Fletcher, and Jonson, whose 
 several characters are so well known, that it would 
 be superfluous to say any more of them. 
 
 Having thus traced the dramatic Muse through 
 all her characters and transformations, till she had 
 acquired a reasonable figure, let us now return and 
 lake a more particular view of the stage and actors. 
 The first company of players we have any account 
 of in history, are the children of Paul's 80 in 1378, 
 mentioned before in page xliii.* About twelve 
 years afterwards the parish clerks of London are 
 said to have acted the Mysteries at Skinner's Well. 
 Which of these two companies have been the 
 earliest, is not certain; but as the children of Paul's 
 
 20 This is not quite accurate. Mr. Steevens has shewn 
 from the unpublished collections of Rymer, now in the 
 British Museum, that a patent was granted four years 
 earlier; viz. in 1574, to James Burbage, John Perkyn, John 
 Lanham, William Johnson, and Robert Wilson, servants to 
 the earl of Leicester, to act comedies, tragedies, enterludes, 
 and stage plays, during pleasure. Dr. Johnson and Mr. 
 Sieevens's edition of Shakspeare, 1778, vol. I. p. 1Q3. I.R. 
 * Upon this point Mr. Malone remarks that he was 
 "unable to mark the time when the profession of a 
 player became common and established." (Mai. Sh. edit. 
 byBosw. Ill 42.) He, however, establishes that in the 
 reigu of Henry VII. there was not only a regular troop of 
 players in London, but also a royal company. C.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S p UNPACK. lv 
 
 are first mentioned, we must in justice give the 
 priority to them. It is certain, the Mysteries and 
 Moralities were acted by these two societies many 
 years before any other regular companies appeared. 
 And the children of Paul's continued to act long 
 after tragedies and comedies came in vogue, even 
 till the year 1618, when a comedy called Jack 
 Drums Entertainment* 1 was acted by them. I 
 believe the next company regularly established was, 
 the children of The Royal Chapel, in the beginning 
 of queen Elizabeth's reign, the direction of which 
 was given to Mr. Richard Edwards beforemen- 
 tioned : and some few years afterwards, as the 
 subjects of the stage became more gay and ludi- 
 crous, a company was formed under the denomina- 
 tion of The Children of the Revels. The children of 
 the Chapel and of the Revels became very famous, 
 and all Lillie's Plays, and many of - 2 Shakspeare's, 
 
 21 This is a mistake ; there is an edition of this play printed 
 in Ito. IGOI, from which that of 1618 was taken. I. R. 
 
 The edition of 1(3 18 was copied from that of I6l6, for 
 printers did not much care to consult the best editions and 
 it was not likely that they should go so far back as l601 > 
 besides, there is internal evidence of the fact, the errors of 
 1616 being incorporated with the new blunders of 1618. 
 The play contains an eulogistic criticism upon the acting of 
 the children of Paul's, and upon the genteelness of their 
 audiences. C. 
 
 22 I do not find any play of Shakspeare acted by the 
 Children of the Revels. I. R. 
 
 Dodsley is here speaking generally of the three compa-
 
 Ivi MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 Jonson's, and others, were first acted by them. 
 Nay, so great was their vogue and estimation, that 
 the common players, as may be gathered from a 
 scene in Hamlet, grew jealous of them. However, 
 they served as an excellent nursery for the theatres, 
 many who afterwards became approved actors 
 being educated among them. 
 
 It is surprising to consider what a number of 
 playhouses were supported in London about this 
 time. From the year 15/0 to the year 1629, when 
 the playhouse in White Friers was finished, no 
 less than 17 playhouses had been built. * The 
 names of most of them I have collected from the 
 Title-pages of Plays ss . And as the theatres were 
 
 nies of the children of St. Paul's, the Chapel, and the Revels, 
 and not as Mr. Reed concludes, of the two last only, as is 
 clear from what he observes of Lilly's Plays, for at least six 
 of those attributed to him were acted by the Children of 
 Paul's. C. 
 
 * Mr. G. Chalmers, in his Supplemental Apology, p. 186, 
 states that " in 1589 there existed in and about London 
 only two theatres the Theatre and the Curtain." C. 
 
 23 St. Paul's Singing-school, The Globe on the Bankside, 
 Southward, The Swan and The Hope there, The Fortune letween 
 Whitecross-slreet and Goldi/ig Lane, which Maitland tells us 
 was the first playhouse erected in London, The Red Bull 
 in St. Johns-street, The Cross Keys in Grace-Church-strcet, The 
 Tuns, The Theater, The Curtain, The Nursery in Barbican, one 
 in Black Friers, one in White Friers, one in Salisbury- Court t 
 and the Cockpit and the Phoenix in Drury- Lane. D.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREPACK. Ivii 
 
 so numerous, the companies of players were in 
 proportion. Besides the Children of the Chapel, 
 and of the Revels, we are told that Queen Eliza- 
 beth, at the request of Sir Francis Walsingham, 
 established in handsome salaries twelve of the 
 principal players of that time, who went under the 
 
 In the above enumeration, I suspect there are two play- 
 houses which are mentioned twice. Those in While Friers 
 and Salisbury- Court seem to be one and the same, as those 
 called The Cock-Pit and The Phoenix certainly are. See 
 Historia Uisirionira, vol. XII. p. 341. The Curtain was in 
 Shoreditch, a part of which district still retains the name 
 The Curtain. The original sign hung out at this theatre 
 was the painting of a curtain striped. (See first volume of 
 Shakspeare, edit. 1778. vol. I. p. 267. and Sir John Haw- 
 kins's History of Mustek, vol. IV. p. 67.) That called The 
 Theatre, I imagine, was Black Friers. We learn, likewise, 
 from Prynne's Histriomastix, that in the time of Queen 
 Elizabeth, there were two other playhouses, the one called 
 The BeU-Sauvage (situated very probably on Ludgate-Hill), 
 the other in Bishopsgate-street; though this latter might 
 be The Curtain. Taylor, the water poet, in The true Cause 
 of the Waterman's Suit concerning Players, lGl3, mentions 
 another theatre, called The Hose. L R. 
 
 The Hose stood on the Bankside, and by the discovery of 
 Philip Henslowe's accounts in MS. at Dulwich College, 
 it has of late years acquired considerable notoriety Hen- 
 slowe was the proprietor of it. Mr. Malone accuses Dodsley 
 of falling into the error of supposing that 17 play houses 
 were open at one time, but his words do not quite warrant 
 such a conclusion : he only means to say, on the authority 
 of the person who continued Stowe's Survey, that between
 
 Iviii MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 name of her Majesty's Comedians and Servants. * 
 But exclusive of these, many 24 noblemen retained 
 companies of players, who acted not only privately 
 
 1570 and 1629, no less than 17 play houses bad been built: 
 the companies (as he adds) might be in proportion even 
 though they did not all exist at once. C. 
 
 * This took place in 1583, but as early as 1574 she 
 granted a licence to James Burbage and four others to ex- 
 hibit stage plays of any kind in any part of the king- 
 dom. 
 
 ** Thus Shakspeare's Titus Andronkus was acted by the 
 Earls of Derby, Pembroke, and Essex's servants ; his Romeo 
 and Juliet in 1596, which some say was his first play, by 
 Lord Hunsdon's servants ; and his Merry Wives of Windsor 
 in 1602, by the Lord Chamberlain's [the earl of Oxford's] 
 servants. The earl of Nottingham, Lord High Admiral, 
 had a company in 1594, and in 1599 The, Pinner of Wake- 
 field was acted by the earl of Sussex's servants. In short, 
 plays were acted by the Lawyers in the Inns of Court, by 
 the Students of several Halls and Colleges in the Univer- 
 sities, and even by London Prentices : so that now the say- 
 ing was almost literally true, Tolas Mundus agit Histrio- 
 nemi D. 
 
 To the noblemen abovementioned, who had companies 
 of players under their protection, may be added the names 
 of The Earl of Worcester and Lord Strange ; the plays of How 
 to chuse a good Wife from a lad, 4to, 1602, being acted by the 
 servants of the former; and Fair Em, the Miller's Daughter 
 of Manchester, 4to, 1631, by those of the latter. The privi- 
 lege which the nobility claimed of protecting players, seems 
 to have been acknowledged so late as in the present cen- 
 tury. Mrs. Centlivre's play of Love at a Venture, was
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. lix 
 
 in their lords houses, but publicly under their 
 licence and protection. Agreeable to this is the 
 account which Stow gives us " Players in former 
 " times, says he, were retainers to noblemen, and 
 " none had the privilege to act plays but such. So 
 " in Queen Elizabeth's time, many of the nobility 
 " had servants and retainers who were players, and 
 " went about getting their livelihood that way *. 
 " The Lord Admiral had players, so had Lord 
 " Strange, that played in the city of London. And 
 
 printed in Ho, 1700, as it was acted by the duke of Graf- 
 ton's servants, at the new theatre in Bath ; and Injured 
 Virtue, or the Virgin Martyr, by Benjamin Griffin, was in like 
 manner printed in I2ino, 171~>, as acted at the playhouse 
 in Richmond by the duke of Southampton and Cleveland's 
 servants. I. R. 
 
 * The Protector Somerset had a company of players and 
 no doubt others were sheltered under the patronage of 
 noblemen, earlier than the reign of Edward VI. In a work 
 printed in 13613 "at Collen by Arnold Birckman," but the 
 preface dated 1557, we find the following mention of them, 
 and of one Miles, a member of the company, who perhaps 
 is the first actor in England whose name stands upon re- 
 cord : the title of the book is "of the nature and proper- 
 ties as well of the bathes in England, as of other bathes in 
 Germanye." 
 
 " They (says the writer) drye up wounderfullie and 
 heale the goute excellently (and that in a shorte tyme) as 
 with diverse others, one Myles, some tyme one of my Lord 
 of Summersettes players, can beare witness." C.
 
 MR. DODSLEY S PREFACE. 
 
 " it was usual, on any gentleman's complaint of 
 " them for indecent reflections in their plays, to 
 " have them put clown. Thus once the lord trea- 
 " surer signified to the lord mayor to have these 
 " players of Lord Admiral and Lord Strange pro 
 " hibited, at least for some time, because one Mr' 
 " Tilney had for some reasons disliked them. 
 " Whereupon the mayor sent for both companies 
 " and gave them strict charge to forbear playing 
 " till farther orders. The Lord Admiral's players 
 " obeyed ; but the Lord Strange's in a contemptu- 
 " ous manner went to the Cross-Keys, and played 
 " that afternoon. Upon which the mayor com- 
 " mitted two of them to the Compter, and pro- 
 " hibited all playing for the future, till the trea- 
 " surer's pleasure was farther known. This was in 
 " 1589." And in another part of his Survey of 
 London, speaking of the stage, he says, "This which 
 " was once a recreation, and used therefore now 
 " and then occasionally, afterwards by abuse be- 
 " came a trade and calling, and so remains to this 
 " day. In those former days, ingenious trades- 
 ' men, and gentlemen's servants, would sometimes 
 " gather a company of themselves, and learn inter- 
 ' ludes, to expose vice, or to represent the noble 
 " actions of our ancestors. These they played at 
 " Festivals, in private houses, at weddings, or 
 " other entertainments. But in process of time it
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 " became an occupation ; and these plays being 
 " commonly acted on" Sundays and Festivals, 
 " the churches were forsaken, and the playhouse's 
 " thronged. Great Inns were used for this pur- 
 " pose, wliich had secret chambers and places, as 
 " well as open stages and galleries. Here maids 
 " and good citizens children were inveigled and 
 " allured to private and unmeet contracts ; here 
 " were publicly uttered popular and seditious mat- 
 " ters, unchaste, uncomely, and unshamefaced 
 " speeches, and many other enormities. The con- 
 " sideration of these things occasioned in 1574, Sir 
 " James Hawes being mayor, an act of common 
 ".councel, wherein it was ordained, that no play 
 " should be openly acted within the liberty of the 
 " city, wherein should be uttered any words, ex- 
 " amples, or doings of any unchastity, sedition, or 
 " such like unlit and uncomely matter, under the 
 ' penalty of five pounds, and fourteen days im- 
 " prisonment. That no play should be acted till 
 " first perused and allowed by the lord mayor and 
 " court of aldermen; with many other restrictions. 
 " Yet it was provided that this act should not ex- 
 " tend to plays showed in private houses, the lodg- 
 " ings of a nobleman, citizen, or gentleman, for the 
 
 25 The custom of acting on Sundays possibly took rise 
 from the exhibition of the mysteries on that day, which was 
 partly considered as an act of religion. 1).
 
 xlii MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 " celebration of any marriage, or other festivity 
 " and where no collection of money was made from 
 " the auditors. But these orders were not so well 
 " observed as they should be ; the lewd matters of 
 " plays encreased, and they were thought danger- 
 " ous to religion, the state, honesty of manners, 
 " and also for infection in the time of sickness. 
 " Wherefore they were afterwards for some time 
 " totally suppressed. But upon application to the 
 " queen and thecouncel they were again tolerated' 
 " under the following restrictions : That no plays 
 " be acted on Sundays at all, nor on any other 
 " holidays till after evening-prayer*. That no play- 
 " ing be in the dark, nor continue any such time, 
 
 * The acting of plays, &c- on Sunday was prohibited in 
 consequence of the fall of a scaffold in Paris garden, on the 
 13th January, 1563. This appears from a Sermon on the 
 event by John Field. Prynne (Histriomastix 4Q1) states on 
 the supposed authority of Field that they abolished plays 
 on the Sabbath, about 1580; but this is a mistake. Arthur 
 Golding, the translator of Ovid, in his " Discourse upon 
 the Earthquake" of the 6th April, 1580, complains that the 
 Lord's Day "is spent full heathenishly in taverning, tip- 
 ling, gaming, playing and beholding of bear-baitings and 
 stage-plays to the utter dishonour of God, impeachment of 
 nil the godliness and unnecessary consuming of men's sub- 
 stances, which ought to be better employed." George 
 Whetstone, in his Mirror for Magistrates of Cities, 1584, al- 
 though a play-poet himself, objects to the use of them upon 
 the Sabbath day, and the abuse of them at all times." C.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. Ixiii 
 
 " but as any of the auditors may return to their 
 " dwellings in London before sunset, or at least 
 ' before it be dark. That the Queen's players 
 " only be tolerated, and of them their number and 
 " certain names to be notified in the lord trea- 
 " surer's letters to the lord mayor, and to the jus- 
 " tices of Middlesex and Surrey. And those her 
 " players not to divide themselves in several com- 
 " panics. And that for breaking any of these 
 " orders, their toleration cease. But all these pre- 
 " scrip tions were not sufficient to keep them with- 
 " in due bounds, but their plays so abusive often- 
 " times of virtue, or particular persons, gave great 
 " offence, and occasioned many disturbances : 
 " whence they were now and then stopped and 
 " prohibited." I hope this long quotation from 
 Stow will be excused, as it serves not only to prove 
 several facts, but to show the customs of the stage 
 at that time, and the early depravity of it. But that 
 the plays not only of that age, but long before, were 
 sometimes personal satires, appears from a manu 
 script letter which I have seen from Sir John Rallies 
 to the Lord Treasurer Burleigh, found amongst 
 some papers belonging to the House of Commons, 
 in which the knight accuses his lordship of having 
 said several dishonourable things of him and his 
 family particularly that his grandfather, who had 
 then been dead seventy years, was a man so
 
 bdv MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 remarkably covetous, that the common players re- 
 presented him before the court with great applause. 
 Thus we see the stage no sooner began to talk, 
 than it grew scurrilous : and its first marks of 
 sense were seen in ribaldry and lasciviousness. 
 This occasioned much offence ; the zeal of the 
 pulpit, and the gravity of the city, equally con- 
 curred to condemn it. Many pamphlets were 
 wrote on both sides. Stephen Gosson 96 , in the 
 year 1579, published a book, intituled, The School 
 of Abuse, or a pleasant Invective against Poets, 
 Pipers, Players, Jesters, and such like Cater- 
 pillars of the Commonwealth ; dedicated to Sir 
 Philip Sydney, He also wrote, Plays confuted 
 in Jive Actions : proving that they are not to be 
 
 46 Stephen Gosson was a Kentishman, born 1556, and 
 admitted a scholar of Christ Church 1572. He left the 
 University without completing his degrees, and came to 
 London, where he became a celebrated poet, and wrote, as 
 he acknowledges, the following Plays, which were acted 
 upon the theatre ; viz. Catalins Conspiracies ; The Comedie of 
 Captain Mario, borrowed from the Italian ; and The Praise 
 at Parting, A Morality. He afterwards went into the coun- 
 try to instruct a gentleman's sons, and continued there until 
 he shewed his dislike to plays in such a manner, that, his 
 patron growing weary of his company, he left his service, 
 and took orders. He was first parson of Great Wigborovv, 
 in Essex, and afterwards of St. Botolph without Bishop- 
 gate, in London. Wood says he was alive in 1015. I. R.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 suffered in a Christian commonwealth : dedicated 
 to Sir Francis Walsingham. The defendants in 
 this controversy were Thomas Lodge 97 , who wrote 
 an old play, called, A Looking-glass for London 
 and England ; and that voluminous dramatic writer 
 Thomas Heywood.* 
 
 But to proceed : The stage soon after recovered 
 its credit, and rose to a higher pitch than ever. In 
 1603, the first year of King James's reign, a licence 88 
 was granted under the privy seal to Shakspeare, 
 Fletcher, Burbage, Hemmings, Condel,and others, 
 authorizing them to act plays not only at their usual 
 house, the Globe on the Bankside, but in any other 
 part of the kingdom, during his majesty's pleasure. 
 And now, as there lived together at this time many 
 eminent players, it may not be amiss just to set 
 down what we can collect, which will be but very 
 little, of the most considerable of them, with regard 
 to their talents and abilities. And first, " who is of 
 " more report," says the author of the Return 
 from Parnassus, " than Dick Burbage 89 and Will 
 
 57 For a particular account of Lod^e, and his dramatic 
 and undramatic productions, see the prefatory matter to 
 The Wounds of Civil War, (vol. VIII. ) a play for the first time 
 included in this collection. C. 
 
 * In his " Apology for Actors," 1612. C. 
 
 28 This licence is printed iu the last edition of Shakspeare, 
 (1778) vol. I. p. 193. I. R. 
 
 29 Burbage died, says Mr. Steevens, in the year ItJL'Q. 
 VOL. I. f
 
 Ixvi MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 " Kempe 30 ? He is not counted a gentleman that 
 " knows not Dick Burbage and Will Kempe: 
 
 (Shakspeare, 1778, p. 198.) Flecnoe, in A short Discourse 
 of (he English Stage, printed at the end of Love's Kingdom, 
 1674, speaking of Burbage, says, " he was a delightful 
 " Proteus, so wholly transforming himself into his part, 
 " and putting off himself with his cloathes, as he never 
 " (not so much as in the Tyring-house) assumed himself 
 " again until the play was done : there being as much 
 " difference betwixt him and one of our common actors as 
 " between a ballad-singer who onely mouths it, and an 
 " excellent singer who knows all his graces, and can art 
 " fully vary and modulate his voice even to know how 
 " much breath to give to every syllable. He had all the 
 " parts of an excellent orator (animating his words with 
 " speaking and speech with action) ; his auditors being 
 " never more delighted than when he spake, nor more sorry 
 " then when he held his peace; yet even then, he was an 
 " excellent actor still, never falling in his part when he had 
 " done speaking ; but with his looks and gesture main- 
 " taining it still unto the heighth, he imagining age quod 
 " agis onely spoke to him : so as those who call him a 
 " player do him wrong, no man being less idle then he, 
 " whose whole life 5s nothing else but action ; with only 
 " this difference from other men's, that what is but a play 
 " to them is his business ; so their business is but a play 
 " to him." I. R. 
 
 30 William Kempe was one of the actors who performed 
 at the Globe and at Black Fryers. His name appears among 
 the original performers in Shakspeare's Plays, and in Ben 
 Jonson's Every Man in his Humour, acted 1598. He was 
 remarkable for excelling in the morrice dance., a circum-
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. Ixvii 
 
 " there's not a country weuch that can dance Sel- 
 " lengers Round, but can talk of Dick Burbage arid 
 
 stance often mentioned by contemporary writers. As in 
 Jac(e Drum's Entertainment, 1616, Sign. A. 3: 
 
 " I had rather that Kemp's Morice were their chat, 
 " For of foolish actions, may be theyle talke wisely but of 
 " Wise intendments, most part talke like fooles." 
 Taylor's Laugh and be fat, p. 73: 
 
 " This gentleman thy travels doth advance 
 " Above Kemp's Norwich anticke Morris dance." 
 I am informed, that among the books, given by Robert 
 Burton to the Bodleian library, is a pamphlet, entitled, 
 
 " Kemp's nine daies wonder performed in a daunce from 
 " London to Norwich. Containing the pleasure, paines, 
 " aiid kind entertainment of William Kemp, between Lon- 
 " don and that city in his late Morrice. Wherein is some- 
 " what set downe worth note ; to reproove the slaunders 
 " spred of him : many things merry, nothing hurtfull. 
 "Written by himselfe to satisfiehis friends." London, 
 printed for Nicholas Ling, 4to. 1600, B. L. It is dedicated 
 to "The true ennobled Lady, and his mostbountifull mis. 
 " tris, mistris Anne Fitton, mayde of Honour to the Most 
 " Sacred Mayde Royall Queene Elizabeth." Prefixed to it 
 is a wooden cut of Kemp as a morris-dancer, preceded by a 
 fellow with a pipe and drum, whom he (in the book) calls 
 Thomas Slye his taberer. Ben Jonson, in Every Man out 
 of his Humour, A. 4. S. 4. makes one of the characters say : 
 " would I had one of Kemp's shoes to throw after you." 
 Among Braithwaite's Epitaphs, 8vo. 1618, Sign. F 8, is 
 the following : 
 
 UPON KEMPE AND HIS MORICE WITH HIS EPITAPH. 
 
 " Welcome from Norwich Kempe ; all joy to see 
 " Thy safe returne moriscoed lustily-
 
 Ixviii MR, DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 " Will Kempe." Burbage was the Betterton, and 
 Kempe the Nokes of that age. Burbage was the 
 original Richard the Thirds', and greatly distin- 
 guished himself in that character ; Kempe was ini- 
 mitable in the part of a clown. " He succeeded 
 " Tarleton ss (says Hey wood) as well in the favour 
 
 "But outalasse bow soone's thy morie done, 
 " When pipe and taber all thy friends he gone, 
 " And leave thee now to dance the second part 
 "With feeble nature, not with nimble art; 
 " Then all thy triumphs fraught with strains of mirth, 
 " Shall be cag'd up within a chest of earth ; 
 " Shall be? they are, th'ast danc'd thee out of breath, 
 " And now must make thy parting dance with death." 
 31 Bishop Corbet, in his ller Boreale, see Poems, p. 19. 
 introduces his Host at Bosworth, describing the battle : 
 " For when he would have said King Richard dy'd, 
 " And call'd a horse, a horse, he Burbage cry'd." I. R. 
 *- Tarlton was an actor at the Bull, in Bishopsgate-street, 
 and performed the Judge's character in the play of King 
 Henry V. which was prior to that of Shakspeare. He also 
 for some time kept an ordinary in Pater-noster-row, and 
 once was master of a Tavern in Grace-church-street. He 
 appears to have been in great favour with Queen Elizabeth, 
 and like many other of his brethren, who have succeeded 
 him, joined some humour to a great deal of profligacy. He 
 was the author of a dramatic performance, called The seven 
 deadly Sins, which is now lost; but the scheme or plan of it 
 hath been lately discovered by Mr. Malone, and is at pre- 
 sent in his possession. In Gabriel Harvey's " Foure Letters 
 " and cerlaine Sonnets, especially touching Robert Greene and 
 " other parlies by him al'used," 4to. 1592, p. 29, mention is
 
 MR. DODSLKY'S PREFACE. Ixix 
 
 " of her majesty Queen Elizabeth, as in the opinion 
 " and good thoughts of the general audience." 
 
 made of a \vork written by Thomas Nashe, " right for- 
 " mally conveyed according to the stile and tenour of 
 " Tarlton's president, bis famous play of the Scaven deadly 
 " Sinnes, which most deadly, but most lively playe, I might 
 " have scene in London : and was very gently invited there- 
 " unto at Oxford by Tarlton himselfe, of whome I merrily 
 " demaunding, which of the seaven was his owne deadlie 
 " sinne ; he bluntly aunswered after this manner, By God 
 " the sinne of other gentlemen lechery. Oh, but that M. 
 " Tarleton is not your part upon the stage: you are too 
 " blame that dissemble with the world, and have one part 
 " for your frends pleasure, another for your owne. I am 
 " somewhat of Doctor Feme's religion, quoth he : and 
 " abruptlie tooke his leave.' 1 Tarlton died about 138y, and 
 was buried at Shoreditch. On the 2d day of August, in 
 that year, Henry Kyrkham had licensed unto " A sorowfull 
 " newe sonnette, intitled Tarlton's Recantation upon this 
 " theame, gyven him by a Gent at the Bel Savage without 
 " Ludgate, (nowe or els never), beinge the laste theame he 
 " songe." And on the 10th of October, there was licenced 
 to Richard Jones, " Tarlton's repentance, or his farewell to 
 " his friends in his sicknes a little before his death, &c." 
 (See the Entries from the Books of the Stationers' Com- 
 pany.) By Bishop Hall's Satires it appears, that Tarlton 
 was celebrated enough to have his head hung as a sign for 
 ale-houses, 
 
 " To sit with Tarlton on an ale-post's signe !'' I. R. 
 In P. Bucke's " Stately moral of the three Lords and 
 " three Ladies of London," 1590, Simplicity, a sort of 
 pedlar-clown, is represented as carrying in his basket pic-
 
 Ixx MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 And Tarleton, says Sir Richard Baker in his 
 Chronicle, for the part of a clown, never had 
 his match, nor ever will have. The Epitaph of 
 Burbage is preserved in Cambden's Remains, and 
 is only EXIT BURBAGE. The Epitaph of Tarleton 
 is preserved by the same historian as follows : 
 
 Hie situs est, eujus Vox, Vultus, Actio possit 
 Ex Heraclito redde Democrituin. 
 
 The next I shall mention is Edward Alleyn, the 
 founder of Dulwich Hospital; as famous for his 
 honesty, says Baker, as for his acting ; and two 
 such actors as he and Burbage, no age must ever 
 look to see again. He's a man, &ays Heywood in 
 his Prologue to the Jew of Malta, 
 
 Whom we may rank with (do no more wrong) 
 Proteus for shapes, and Roscius for a tongue. 
 
 Hear also Ben Jonson, whose praise is of more 
 weight, as it never was lightly bestowed : 
 
 If Rome so great, and in her wisest age, 
 FearM not to boast the glories of her stage, 
 As skilful Roscius, and grave ^Esop, men, 
 Yet erowu'd with honours as with riches then, 
 Who had no less a trumpet of their name 
 Than Cicero, whose very breath was fame : 
 
 tures of Tarlton. The date of Tarlton's death has been 
 ascertained to have been shortly before the 3d September, 
 1588, (not 1589, as mentioned by Mr. Reed) us he was 
 buried on that day, as appears by the Register of St. 
 Leonard, Shoreditch. C.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. Ixxi 
 
 How can so great example die in me, 
 That, Alley n, I should pause to publish thee ? 
 Who both their graces in thyself hast more 
 Outstript, than they did all that went before ; 
 And present worth in all (lost so contract, 
 As others speak, but only thou dost act. 
 Wear this renown : 'Tis just that who did give 
 So many poets life, by one should live. 
 
 Thomas Green 33 was famous for performing the 
 part of a clown with great propriety and humour; 
 and from his excellent performance of the character 
 of Bubble, in a comedy written by Mr. John ' 
 Cooke, the author called it after his name, Greens 
 Tu quoque. " There was not an actor, says Hey- 
 " wood, of his nature, in his time, of better ability 
 "in his performance, more applauded by the 
 " audience, of greater grace at court, or of more 
 " general love in the city." 
 
 Hemmings and Condel 34 were two considerable 
 
 33 See vol. VII. p. 1, for some account of Green. 
 " It is not known when these two performers died. Mr. 
 Steevens, who searched for their wills in the Commons, 
 could not find them, though lie looked as late as the year 
 lo-ll. See the first volume of the edition of Shakspeare in 
 1?78, p. IPS. Hemmings had a son named William (pro- 
 bably called so in compliment to Shakspeare), who was 
 born in London, 1605, elected from Westminster School, a 
 student of Christ Church, Hi'Jl, and completed his degree 
 in arts l(J'2S. He was the author of two Plays, and a Latin 
 copy of Verses, printed in " Carolus Redus," :6 L 23. By
 
 Ixxii MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 actors in most of Shakspeare's, Jonson's, and 
 Fletcher's Plays ; the first in tragedy, the last in 
 comedy : but they are better known for being the 
 first editors of Shakspeare's Works in folio, in the 
 year 1623, seven years after his death. 
 
 Lowin 3 5 , Taylor, and Benfield, are mentioned 
 by Massinger as famous actors. In a Satire against 
 Ben Jonson are these two lines: 
 
 Let Lowin cease, and Taylor scorn to touch 
 The loathed stage, for thou hast made it such. 
 
 Lowin, though something later than Burbage, is 
 said to have been the first actor 36 of Hamlet, and 
 
 an Advertisement to one of his Plays, it appears that he 
 lived not long after the year 1650. I. R. 
 
 This account will receive some corrections by the reader 
 who refers to Malone's Sh. by Boswell, III. 186, and where 
 it also appears that " John Heminge (or Heminges) the 
 player" (for he is so styled in the parish register) died on 
 the 10th October, 1630, anu was buried two days afterwards 
 in the church-yard of St. Mary, Aldermanbury. C. 
 
 35 See Historia Histrionica, in this vol. 
 
 8(5 This seems to be said merely on the credit of Roberts 
 the player in his answer to Pope's Preface , but as he quotes 
 no authority, the truth of it may be doubted. The Hisloria 
 Histrionica speaks of Lowin's performance of Falstaffe, 
 Morose, Volpone, and Mammon ; and Dowries, in his Roscius 
 Anglicanus, p. 24. mentions him as the original actor of 
 King Henry VIII. but neither of them take any notice of 
 his ever being the representative of Hamlet. On the con- 
 trary both of them (see vol. xii. p. 341. and Dowries, p. 21.)
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. Ixxiii 
 
 also the original Henry VIII. from an observation 
 of whose acting it in his later days, Sir William 
 Davenant conveyed his instruction to Mr. Better- 
 ton. 
 
 And now the theatre seems to have been at 
 its height of glory and reputation. Dramatic au- 
 thors abounded, and every year produced a number 
 of new Plays : nay, so great was the passion at 
 this time for shew or representation, that it was 
 the fashion for the nobility to celebrate their wed- 
 dings, birth-days, and other occasions of rejoicing, 
 with masques and interludes, which were exhibited 
 with surprising expence ; that great architect Inigo 
 Jones being frequently employed to furnish deco- 
 rations with all the magnificence of his invention. 
 The king and his lords, the queen and her ladies, 
 frequently performed in these masques at court, 
 and all the nobility in their own private houses : 
 in short, no public entertainment was thought com- 
 plete without them ; and to this humour it is we 
 owe, and perhaps 'tis all we owe it, the inimitable 
 Masque at Ludlow-castle. For the same universal 
 eagerness after theatrical diversions Continued du- 
 ring the whole reign of king James, and great part 
 of Charles the First, till Puritanism, which had 
 
 assert that Josrph Taylor was the original of that character ; 
 and from Sir William Davenant's observation of his man- 
 ner, Mr. Betterton received instructions to perform -it. 
 (See also edition of Shakspeare, 1778, vol. x. p. 408). I. R.
 
 Ixxiv MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 now gathered great strength, more openly opposed 
 them as wicked and diabolical. If we may judge 
 of this spirit from Prynne's famous Histrio-mastix, 
 or Players Scourge, it appears to have been a zeal 
 much without knowledge. This was a heavy load 
 of dull abuse, published in 1633, against plays, 
 players, and all who favoured them, by William 
 Prynne 37 , esq : a barrister of Lincoln's-Inn. The 
 
 37 This very extraordinary man, whose severe punishment, 
 and Roman constancy in submitting to it, had no small effect 
 upon the minds of the people, and contributed more than 
 is generally imagined to the disasters of the times, was 
 born at Swanswick, near Bath, in Somersetshire, in the 
 year 1600. He was educated in the last-mentioned city; 
 entered of Oriel College in lo'lG, and took the degree of 
 B. A. Jan. 20, 1 620. From thence he was removed to Lin- 
 coln's Inn, where he studied the Common Law, and be- 
 came successively Barrister, Bencher, and Reader, in that 
 society. After the execution of his sentence, on account 
 of Histrio-mastix, he printed other pieces which gave equal 
 offence, which occasioned his being again prosecuted. In 
 consequence of which, he was fined, branded, and impri- 
 soned, and in each with equal or more severity than be- 
 fore. The place of his confinement was Mount Orguiel, in 
 the island of Jersey, where he continued three years : at 
 the end of that time, being chosen member for Newport in 
 Cornwall, he was released, and entered London in tri- 
 umph ; and he soon had an opportunity to revenge the se- 
 vere treatment he had experienced from his inveterate foe, 
 Archbishop Laud. He sat in the long Parliament, and 
 was one of the secluded Members who were imprisoned on
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. Ixxv 
 
 best way the parties concerned thought of, in an- 
 swer to this Work, was to publish all the best old 
 Plays that could then be found ; so that many that 
 had never yet seen the light were now brought 
 forth : 1 have observed myself more than fifty that 
 were printed this year. In short, the patrons of 
 the stage for some short time prevailed ; Prynne's 
 Book was deemed an infamous libel both against 
 the church and state, against the peers, prelates, 
 and magistrates ; and particularly against the king 
 and queen, where he says, that princes dancing in 
 their OKU persons zcas the cause of their untimely 
 ends: that our English ladies, shorn and f fizzled 
 madams, had lost their modesty ; that plays were 
 the chief delight of the devil, and all that freqaent- 
 
 accouut of their zeal for a peace with the King. From this 
 time he was an avowed enemy of Oliver Cromwell, and was 
 by him imprisoned in Dunster Castle in Somersetshire. At 
 the restoration he became instrumental in recalling- the 
 Kino-, and was rewarded with being appointed keeper of the 
 records in the Tower, and a salary of 5001. per annum. He 
 was soon after named one of the Commissioners for ap- 
 peals and regulating the excise, was elected Member for 
 Bath, and embroiled himself with the House of Com- 
 mons, on which account he was obliged to make a sub- 
 mission. He died at his chambers in Lincoln's-Inn, Oct. 
 '2\, 1669 ; and was buried under the chapel there. I. R. 
 
 This note is transferred to this place from the introductory 
 matter, to Shirley's Bird in a Cage, which is not reprinted 
 in the present edition. C.
 
 Ixxvi MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 ed them were damned. As he knew the king and 
 queen frequented them daily, this was thought to 
 reflect on their majesties. To all music he has an 
 utter antipathy, but church-music in particular, 
 which he calls the bleating of brute beasts ; and says, 
 the choristers bellow the tenor as if they were oxen, 
 bark a counter-point like a kennel of hounds, roar a 
 treble as if they were bulls, and grunt out a base 
 like a parcel of hogs. For these and many other 
 passages, it was ordered to be burnt by the hands 
 of the common hangman : and his sentence was, to 
 be put from the bar, excluded the society of Lin- 
 coln's-Inn, and degraded by the university of Ox- 
 ford ; to stand in the pillory at Westminster and 
 in Cheapside, to lose an ear at each place, and 
 stand with a paper on his head, declaring his 
 offence to be the publishing an infamous libel 
 against both their majesties, and the government ; 
 to be fined 50001. and suffer perpetual imprison- 
 ment. This sentence was executed on him with 
 great rigour. But Puritanism, from a thousand 
 concurrent causes every day gathering strength, in 
 a little time overturned the constitution ; and 
 amongst their many Reformations this was one, the 
 total suppression of all plays and play-houses. * 
 
 * A hoax was played off upon Prynne, some years after 
 the printing of his Histriomastix in lfi33, by the publica- 
 tion of a tract, called " Mr. William Prynn, his Defence of
 
 MR. DODSLKY'S PREFACE. Ixxvii 
 
 Thus I have brought down this imperfect essay 
 on the rise and progress of the English stage, to 
 the period which I at first intended : to pursue it 
 farther, and take it up again at the Restoration, 
 when a new 3 " patent was granted to Sir William 
 Davenant, would be needless ; because from that 
 time the affairs of the stage are tolerably well 
 known. If what I have done shall give any satis- 
 faction to the curious, it is more than I have dared 
 to promise myself, from my own sense of its great 
 imperfection ; but I hope it will be considered, 
 what slender materials either the ignorance of those 
 times, or the injury of the following, have afforded 
 
 Stage-plays ; or a Retractation of a former book of his 
 called Histrio-mastix." It bears date in 1649, but as the 
 answer of Prynne to it, in the shape of a posting bill is 
 dated Jan. 10, l6'48, it was most likely ante-dated. "The 
 Vindication of William Prynne esquire from some scan- 
 dalous papers and imputations newly printed, and publish- 
 ed, to traduce and defame him in his reputation," is in the 
 British Museum, and other copies of it are known to exist : 
 he declares the supposed defence by him to be " a mere 
 forgery, and imposture" by some of the "imprisoned stage- 
 players." C. 
 
 38 It may not be amiss to take notice of a clause in this 
 patent, which says, " That whereas the women's parts in 
 " plays have hitherto been acted by men in the habits of 
 " women, at which some have taken offence, we permit 
 " and give leave, for the time to come, that all women's 
 " parts be acted by women." And from this time women 
 begun to appear upon the stage. D.
 
 Ixxviii MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 us. I am, as it were, the first adventurer on these 
 discoveries, and it is not reasonable to expect 
 more perfection than is commonly found in the 
 first attempts of this nature. All that I can say is, 
 that T have thrown together a number of curious 
 circumstances on the subject, that the reader 
 would seek for in vain elsewhere. And if the 
 novelty of them should excite the curiosity of any 
 person of greater abilities, better health, or more 
 leisure, to make a stricter enquiry into this matter, 
 he would certainly oblige me, and perhaps the 
 public. It is enough for me that I have led the 
 way, and been the first, however imperfect, dis- 
 coverer. 
 
 It now only remains to say something of my un- 
 dertaking, which I shall endeavour to comprize in 
 as few words as may be. My first end was to 
 snatch some of the best pieces of our old dramatic 
 writers from total neglect and oblivion : as things 
 not only of mere curiosity but of use, as far as an 
 elegant entertainment can be of use ; several of 
 these being not unworthy the present, nor indeed 
 any stage. I have generally preferred comedies to 
 tragedies, not only as these times afforded much 
 better in the kind, and would therefore in this and 
 other respects be most entertaining to the reader, 
 but as they better serve to shew the humour, fa- 
 shion, and genius of the times in which they were 
 written. Another end which I thought such a
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. Ixxix 
 
 collection might answer was, that it would serve 
 very well to shew the progress and improvement 
 of our taste and language. For this better pur- 
 pose, in the six pieces 9 which compose the first 
 volume, and also in the remarkable tragedy of Gor- 
 boduc, I was even so scrupulous as to preserve 
 their very original orthography. I did indeed, to 
 gratify the reader's curiosity, intend to have done 
 the same in all the rest ; but this was plainly im- 
 possible, unless I could have met with the first 
 editions ; for in every edition the orthography was 
 generally adapted to that then in use. I also con- 
 sidered, that though this might have been enter- 
 taining to the curious, to the generality of readers 
 it would have been very disagreeable. To the first 
 therefore I have given a sufficient specimen in one 
 volume, and to the other I have endeavoured to 
 make the reading as easy as I could in the rest. A 
 farther inducement to this undertaking was the 
 hopes I had of being able to do these authors jus- 
 tice in a more correct edition of their Plays, than 
 they hitherto had ; for as to the greater part of them, 
 it seems as if carelessness and ignorance had 
 
 3y Mr. Dodsley, not knowing the first editions of the se- 
 veral pieces which compose this collection, made a wrong 
 arrangement of them. This is altered in the present edi- 
 tion; but the orthography of the first six pieces is pre- 
 served, though three of the plays are printed from earlier 
 and more correct copies. I. R.
 
 1XXX MR. DODS LEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 joined their efforts in rendering them unintelligible. 
 Aad not only so, but the pointing is at the same 
 time so preposterous (which, like false guiding- 
 posts, are perpetually turning out of the high road 
 of common sense), that one would almost suspect 
 there was as much malice as stupidity in these old 
 editors. However, by the assistance of a little 
 common sense, I think I have set a great number 
 of these passages right. And if any one should be 
 offended that some are left unintelligible in the 
 state they were found, I desire he will be pleased 
 to consider how many such still remain in Shaks- 
 peare 40 , after the best endeavours that have hitherto 
 
 40 It should be remembered that this was written in the 
 year 1744, when the observation might be made with great 
 truth and justice. How imperfectly Shakspeare was under- 
 stood at that time, every reader conversant with his writ- 
 ings is now well informed. The same year in which the 
 former edition of this work appeared, the splendid, but ill 
 conducted, design of Sir Thomas Hanmer was made public. 
 It, however, was generally disapproved of, and Dr. War- 
 burton's attempt a few years afterwards, from which great 
 expectations were formed, was net more successful. The 
 failure of these gentlemen probably excited Dr. Johnson 
 to undertake a new edition, which would have precluded 
 every further effort, had he executed the plan laid down in 
 his proposals. " The editor," says he, " will endeavour to 
 " read the books which the author read, to trace his know- 
 " ledge to the source, and compare his copies wi*h their 
 " Originals." Again, " He hopes, that, by comparing the 
 " works of Shakespeare with those of writers who lived at
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. Ixxxi 
 
 been used to restore their original meaning. Be- 
 sides, I believe I may venture to say, it is more 
 difficult to give a correct specimen of so many 
 writers, than a correct edition of any one : be- 
 cause, when an Author's manner is once known, it 
 will very often help to rectify or discover the 
 meaning of corrupted or intricate passages : where- 
 as the reading of so many different stiles and man- 
 ners of writing will be apt, without great care, to 
 confound and mislead the judgment. Add to this, 
 that it is easier to correct the errors in a good au- 
 thor than in a bad one ; because not only the con- 
 struction of the language is generally better and 
 less confused, but the sentiments are clearer and 
 more striking. After all, I submit what I have 
 
 " the same time, immediately preceded or immediately fol- 
 " lowed him, he shall be able to ascertain his ambiguities, 
 " disentangle his intricacies, and recover the meaning of 
 '' words now lost in the darkness of antiquity.'' That Dr. 
 Johnson was not possessed of the materials necessary to 
 accomplish his own excellent design would have been the 
 subject of regret with every reader of Shakspeare, if the plan 
 be had delineated had been neglected on its failure in his 
 hands. Fortunately for the public, it was resumed by Mr. 
 Steevens with unremitting attention and equal ability. The 
 success which hath followed this gentleman's researches, 
 joined to the assistance of J)r. Farmer, Mr. Tyrwhitt, Mr. 
 Malonc, Mr. Warton, Mr- Toilet, and a few others, hath 
 left very little for the industry of any future commentator 
 on our ever to be unequalled bard. 
 
 VOL. i. g
 
 Ixxxii MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. 
 
 done to the judgment of the public, whose candour 
 I have often experienced, and on whose good- 
 nature I am afraid I shall always have more oc- 
 casion to rely, than on any merit I shall ever pre- 
 tend to. So far am I from aiming at the character 
 of a critic, that what corrections or emendations I 
 have made are bestowed on the public (as good 
 men do their alms) privately, and without ostenta- 
 tion. Yet however contemptibly I may think of 
 myself, I have the honour of keeping a critic in 
 waiting for the publication of this collection, in 
 order to detect and expose the errors which may 
 have escaped me, or which I may not have been 
 able to correct. I heartily wish him success in his 
 undertaking ; I have pointed him out some few, 
 and doubt not but, if he is truly industrious, he 
 will be able to find many others, which I shall be 
 very glad to see amended. 
 
 I conclude with begging leave to return my ac- 
 knowledgments to all those who have given me 
 the honour of their names 41 to encourage this 
 undertaking : I hope I have at least fairly fulfilled 
 the conditions of my proposal, as to the elegance 
 and neatness of the book ; and as to this short 
 account of the stage, if it be a trifle, it is a trifle 
 more than I promised. I am also in a more par- 
 
 41 The first Edition of this Work was printed by sub- 
 scription. I. B.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. Ixxxiii 
 
 ticular manner to acknowledge my obligations to 
 some generous and learned friends, from whose 
 advice and assistance I am sensible my work has 
 derived more value and correctness than it could 
 ever have appeared with, had I been left alone to 
 struggle with my own weak endeavours.
 
 SUPPLEMENT 
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE*. 
 
 IN the foregoing Preface, Mr. Dodsley hath 
 carried on his account of the stage to that period 
 when the inroads of civil war, joined to the fana- 
 tical madness then prevailing, overthrew the stage, 
 and soon after effected the destruction of monarchy. 
 In the present supplement it is intended, with as 
 much accuracy as the few materials remaining will 
 permit, to take up the narrative of those revolu- 
 tions which the theatre hath since undergone to the 
 year 1776 ; a year which in the annals of the stage 
 will be always deemed an important one, being the 
 time when the late Mr. Garrick terminated his 
 theatrical life, and quitted the management of 
 Drury-lane playhouse. 
 
 * The few additional notes to this Supplement, by Mr. 
 Reed, are marked with his initials. The other notes unap- 
 propriated, were printed by him in the edition of 1780. C.
 
 Ixxxvi 'SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 From the commencement of hostilities between 
 the king and his parliament, the performances of 
 the stage were intirely discontinued. Of the 
 several actors then employed in the theatres, such 
 as were not prevented l by age went immediately 
 into the army, and, as it might be expected, took 
 part with their sovereign, whose affection for their 
 profession had been shewn by many instances 
 previous to the open rupture between him and his 
 people. The event of the war was alike fatal to 
 monarchy, and to the stage. After a violent and 
 bloody contest of some years, they both fell to- 
 gether, the king lost his life by the hands of an 
 executioner, the theatres were abandoned or 
 destroyed, and those by whom they used to be 
 occupied were either killed in the wars, worn out 
 with old age, or dispersed in different places, 
 fearful of assembling, lest they should give offence 
 to the ruling powers. 
 
 The fate of their royal master being determined, 
 the surviving dependants on the drama were 
 obliged again to return to the exercise of their 
 former profession. In the winter of the year 
 1648 2 , they ventured to act some plays fit the 
 Cockpit, but were soon interrupted and silenced 
 by the soldiers, who took them into custody in the 
 midst of one of their performances, and committed 
 
 1 Hisloria Histrionica, in this vol. 2 Ibid.
 
 MR. DODSLEYS PREFACE. !"XXvti 
 
 them to prison. After this ineffectual attempt to 
 settle at their former quarters, we hear no more of 
 any public exhibition for some time *. They still, 
 however, kept together, and by connivance of the 
 commanding- officer at Whitehall, sometimes repre- 
 sented privately a few plays at a short distance 
 from town. They also were permitted to entertain 
 
 3 Iii the Mercurius Antepragmaticus, No. 18, Jan. 27, 1648, 
 mention is made of an order of the House of Commons in 
 these words : " And that the disobedient of what rank 
 " soever may be regulated upon information given to the 
 " House, that many stage-plaies were acted in the several 
 " parts of the City and County of Middlesex, notwith- 
 " standing they were prohibited from their foppery by a 
 " former ordinance, they ordered, that an ordinance should 
 " be drawn up for suppressing all stage-plaices, and for 
 " the taking dovvne all their boxes, stages, and seats what- 
 " soever, that so there might be no more plaies acted : 
 " and indeed, these are no times to have publike interludes 
 " permitted, when the hand of God lies so heavy upon us, 
 " and all the powers of hell in action against us ; if those 
 " proud parroting players cannot live, let them put their 
 " hands to worke, they are most of them a sort of super- 
 " bious ruffians given to all manner of wickednesse, and 
 " because sometimes the asses are cloathed in lions skins, 
 " the dolts imagine themselves somebody, walke in as great 
 " state as Caesar, and demeane themselves as loftily as 
 " any of the twelve noble spirited beasts of the wilder. 
 " nesse ; away with them and their actions on the publike 
 " stage. 
 
 " For since we hav supprest our adjutators, 
 " Let's part the actors and the rude spectators."
 
 IxXXViii .SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 some of the nobility at their country houses, where 
 they were paid by those under whose protection 
 they acted. They also obtained leave at particular 
 festivals to divert the public at the Red-Bull, but 
 this was not always without interruption. Those 
 at the head of affairs still continued their impla- 
 cable rancour against all who were connected with 
 polite letters, and the unfortunate actors who sur- 
 vived to this period felt the greatest distress. A 
 slender and precarious support was the whole they 
 were allowed. In this situation several of them 
 were obliged to draw forth the manuscripts of their 
 contemporaries which they had in their possession, 
 and many plays were published which might other- 
 wise have never seen the light. 
 
 But though the fury of religious zeal seemed to 
 threaten that the stage should never revive, and 
 every method was taken which might tend to 
 accomplish that design, the pleasure which had 
 been received from dramatic entertainments was 
 too strong to be totally overcome. Amidst the 
 gloom of fanaticism, and whilst the royal cause was 
 considered as desperate, Sir William Davenant, 
 without molestation, exhibited entertainments of 
 declamation and music after the manner of the 
 ancients at Rutland-house 4 . He began in the 
 
 4 At the upper end of Aldersgate-street, says the title- 
 page of some of these performances. Oldys, in his MS.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. Ixxxix 
 
 year 1650, and two years afterwards removed to 
 the Cockpit, Drury-!ane, where he performed 
 until the eve of the Restoration. 
 
 On the appearance of that event's taking place, 
 the retainers of the theatre then remaining col- 
 lected themselves together, and began to resume 
 their former employment. In the year 1659, 
 about the time general Monk marched with his 
 army out of Scotland towards London, Mr. Rhodes 5 , 
 a bookseller, who had formerly been wardrobe- 
 keeper to the company which acted at Black 
 Fryers, fitted up the Cockpit in Drury-lane. The 
 actors he procured were chiefly new to the stage, 
 
 Notes on Langbaine, speaks of it as being situated in 
 Charter-house-yard. Two of these entertainments are 
 mentioned in the List of Uavenant's Works, vol. 8. To 
 them may be added the following: 1. The Cruelty of the 
 Spaniards in Peru; exprest by instrumental and vocal 
 Music, and by art of perspective in Scenes, &c repre- 
 sented daily at the Cockpit in Drury-lane, at three in the 
 afternoon punctually. 4to. 1658. 2. The History of Sir 
 Francis Drake; exprest by instrumental and vocal I\Jusic, 
 &c. 4to. 1(35P. At the end of the former of these is the 
 following advertisement : " Notwithstanding the great ex- 
 " pense necessary to scenes and other ornaments in this 
 " entertainment, there is good provision made of places 
 " for a shilling, and it shall begin certainly at three in 
 " the afternoon." 
 5 Roscins Anglicanus, p. 17. and Historia Histrionica.
 
 XC . SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 and two of them had been his apprentices 6 . About 
 the same time, the few performers who had be- 
 longed to the old companies assembled, and began 
 to act at the Red-Bull 7 , in Saint John's-street, and 
 from the eagerness with which two patents were 
 soon afterwards obtained from the crown, it may 
 be presumed that they met with a considerable 
 share of success. Sir William Davenant, before 
 the civil wars broke out, had been favoured with a 
 patent 8 by Charles the First, and therefore his 
 claim to a new one was warranted, as well by his 
 former possession as by his services and sufferings 
 in the royal cause. The other candidate was 
 9 Thomas Killegrew, Esq. a person who had ren- 
 dered himself acceptable to his sovereign, as- much 
 
 6 Mr. Betterton and Mr. Kynaston. 
 
 7 Roscius Anglicanus, p. 1. 
 
 8 This patent was granted 14 Car. I. 1639, and after- 
 wards exemplified 13 Car. II. 1661. Both are recited in, 
 and both were surrendered up, by the letters patent of 
 15 Jan. 14 Car. II. 1662. It appears by the patent of 
 14 Car- 1. that a nevr playhouse was intended to be built on 
 a piece of ground behind the Three Kings' Ordinary in 
 in Fleet-street. The public disturbances which began in 
 that year seem to have prevented the execution of this 
 design. 
 
 9 See an account of him prefixed to The Parson's Wedding, 
 vol. XI.
 
 MR. DODSLEY S PREFACE. XC1 
 
 by his vices and follies as by his wit or attachment 
 to him in his distress. 
 
 The actors who had been employed by Rhodes 
 soon aftewards were taken under the protection of 
 Sir William Davenant 10 ; and the remains of the 
 old companies were received by Mr. Killegrew; 
 all of them were sworn by the Lord Chamberlain 
 as servants of the crown : the former being styled 
 the Duke of York's company ; and the latter that 
 of the King 11 . 
 
 The King's company, after their removal from 
 the Red-Bull, performed in a new built house 
 situated in Gibbons's Tennis-Court, near Clare- 
 market ia . But this theatre being not well adapted 
 for the use to which it was appropriated, they were 
 obliged to erect a more convenient one in Drury- 
 lane. This latter was finished and opened on the 
 8th day of April, 1662, with Beaumont and 
 Fletcher's Comedy of The Humourous Lieutenant, 
 which was acted twelve nights successively. 
 
 10 Roscius Anglicanus, p. 19. 
 
 11 Cibber says, " About ten of the King's company were 
 " on the royal household establishment, having each ten 
 " yards of scarlet cloth, with a proper quantity of lace 
 " allowed them for liveries ; and, in their warrants from the 
 " Lord Chamberlain, were styled Gentlemen of the Great 
 " Chamber : whether the like appointments were extended 
 " to the Duke's company, I am not certain. 1 ' Cillers Apol. 
 p. 75. 
 
 ' Ftmcius Anglicanus, p. 1.
 
 XC11 . SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 During these removals of the King's company, 
 their rivals belonging to the Duke of York were 
 shifting their places of performance, and were some 
 time before they were wholly settled. From the 
 Cockpit they went to a new theatre built in Lin- 
 coln's-Inn Fields, which was opened in the spring 
 of the year 1662, after several of their plays had 
 been rehearsed at Apothecaries- Hall 13 . But this 
 playhouse was likewise soon discovered to be ill 
 contrived and inconvenient, and Sir William Dave- 
 nant found it necessary to search out a new spot 
 to erect one more commodious. He fixed upon 
 Dorset- Garden, in Salisbury-Court, for this pur- 
 pose, but did not live to see the edifice made any 
 use of. This theatre will be mentioned hereafter. 
 
 The two companies being now established at 
 Drury-lane and Lincoln's-Inn Fields, they each 
 began to exert their endeavours to obtain the 
 favour of the town. The principal performers in 
 the King's company 14 were of the men, Hart, 
 Mohun, Burt, Wintersel, Lacy, Cartwright, and 
 Clun ; to whom, after the opening of Drury-lane 
 theatre, were added, Joe Haines, Griffin, Good- 
 man, and some others. Among the women were 
 Mrs. Corey, Mrs. Marshall, Mrs. Knep, and after- 
 wards Mrs. Boutel and Mrs. Eleanor Gwyn. Of 
 
 13 Roidus Anglicanus, p. 20. 
 14 Ibid. p. 2.
 
 MR. DODSLEY S PREFACE. XC111 
 
 the Duke's company were Betterton, Sheppy, 
 Kynaston, Nokes, Mosely, and Floyd, who had 
 all performed under Rhodes ; Harris, Price, 
 Richards, and Blagden, were added by Sir William 
 Davenant, who also about a year after received 
 Smith, Sandford, Medburn, and two others. The 
 actresses were Mrs. Davenport, Mrs. Saunderson 
 (who afterwards married Mr. BettertoD), Mrs. 
 Davies, and Mrs. Long ; all of whom boarded in 
 the Patentee's house. Besides these, were Mrs. 
 Gibbs, Mrs. Norris, Mrs. Holden, and Mrs. Jen- 
 nings ; and, if any dependance may be placed on 
 the judgement of those who then frequented plays, 
 there were more excellent performers in each com- 
 pany than have ever been seen together at any one 
 time since that period. 
 
 The avidity of the public for theatrical enter- 
 tainments sufficiently recompensed for a consider- 
 able time the assiduity of the performers, and the 
 expectations of those who adventured their money 
 in building the theatres 15 . Their success was, 
 however, soon interrupted by national calamities. 
 In 1665, the plague broke out in London' 5 with 
 great violence ; and in the succeeding year, the fire 
 which destroyed the metropolis put a stop to the 
 further progress of stage- performances. 
 
 15 See Historia Hislrionica. 
 16 Roscius Angdcanus, p. 16.
 
 XC1V SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 After a discontinuance of eighteen months, both 
 houses were again opened at Christmas, 1666 17 . 
 The miseries occasioned by the plague and fire 
 were forgotten, and public diversions were again 
 followed with as much eagerness as they had been 
 before their interruption. Both companies were 
 at first successful ; but after the novelty of the 
 several performers was worn away, and their stock 
 of plays had been repeated until they became fa- 
 miliar, the Duke's company, excellent as they were 
 allowed to be, felt their inferiority by the slender 
 audiences they were able to draw together. This 
 consideration induced Sir William Davenant to try 
 the effects of a new theatre, built with greater 
 magnificence than that in Lincoln's-Inn, and he 
 chose Dorset-Garden, probably where the old play- 
 house in Salisbury-Court stood, as a proper place 
 for the purpose ; but before this theatre was finished 
 he died, and on that event the management of his 
 property therein came into the hands of his widow 
 Lady Davenant, Mr. Betterton, and Mr. Harris, 
 assisted by Charles Davenant, afterwards well 
 known as a politician and civil lawyer. This new 
 house was opened in November, 1671 18 , notwith- 
 
 17 Roscius Anglicanui, p. 26. 
 
 18 Reliquice Baxterianos, fol. 1696, p. 89. p. 3d. There 
 seems to have been a playhouse standing at the Restoration 
 on the same spot- Tatham's Play, called The Bump, was 
 acted at Dorset-Court in i860.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. xcv 
 
 standing the. opposition made to it by the city of 
 London. But the opinion of the publick still in- 
 clining to the King's company, Mr. Davenant was 
 obliged to have recourse to a new species of enter- 
 tainment. He determined to call in the assistance 
 of shew and sound, he increased the splendor of 
 his scenery, and introduced music, singing, and 
 dancing, into some of the pieces represented 19 . 
 Dramatic Operas, with expensive decorations, soon 
 came into fashion, and enabled the Duke's com- 
 pany to obtain an advantage over their competi- 
 tors, which they were not intitled to 20 by their 
 merit. 
 
 Soon after the Duke's company began to act in 
 their new theatre, an accident happened which 
 must have disabled their antagonists from contend- 
 ing with them for a short time. In January, 
 1671-2, the play-house in Drury-lane took fire, 
 and was entirely demolished. The violence of 
 the conflagration was so great, that between 
 fifty and sixty adjoining houses were burnt or 
 blown up ei . Where the company belonging to 
 this house removed, I have not been able to dis- 
 
 Iy Macbeth, The Tempest, Psyche, Circe, The Empress of 
 Morocco. 
 
 80 Gibber's Apology, p. 79- 
 
 41 Eeliqmce Jiailenance, fol. 169G. p. 89. p. 'Ml This 
 theatre, I believe, was sometimes called the theatre in
 
 XCV1 SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 cover, though I find they continued to act in the 
 several years which intervened between the destru- 
 tion of the old house and its being rebuilt ; and 
 from the series of plays which' they produced, it 
 seems probable that they immediately occupied 
 some theatre which then remained unused 2a . The 
 proprietors of the old playhouse, after they had 
 recovered the consternation which this accident 
 
 Covent-Garden. (See Preface to The Miser, by Shadvvell, 
 4to. 1672.) Mr. Walpole, speaking of Robert Aggas, com- 
 monly called Augus, observes, that Graham, in his School 
 of English Painting, makes him the painter of scenes for 
 the playhouse in Covent-Garden. Robert Aggas died in 
 London, in 167, aged about. tiO; " but I know not," says 
 Mr. Walpole (Anecdotes of Painting, vol. 1. p. 15?.) "what 
 " the author 1 quote means by a playhouse in Covent- 
 " Garden before the year 1679 ; I suppose it should be the 
 " theatre in Dorset-Gardens." From the above Preface it 
 plainly appears, that the mistake arose from the same 
 house being sometimes spokeu of as situate in Drury-lane ; 
 and at other times in Covent-Garden. Graham was, there- 
 fore, right in his account. I find also an Opera, called 
 Ariadne, printed in 4to. l6?3-4, as acted at the Theatre 
 Royal in Co vent-Garden. 
 
 ie Or perhaps a temporary playhouse was built. This 
 may be conjectured from the following lines in a prologue, 
 by Dryden, spoken the first day of the King's house acting 
 after the fire : 
 
 " But we with golden hopes are rainly fed, 
 " Talk high, and entertain > on in u shed. 
 " Your presence here, for which we humbly sue, 
 " Will grace old theatres, and build up new."
 
 MR. DODSLEY S PREFACE. XCV11 
 
 had thrown them into, resolved to rebuild their 
 theatre with such improvements as might be 
 suggested ; and for that purpose, employed Sir 
 Christopher Wren, the most celebrated architect 
 of his time, to draw the design, and superintend 
 the execution of it. The plan which he produced, 
 in the opinion of those who were well able to judge 
 of it, was such a one as was alike calculated for 
 the advantage of the performers and spectators ; 
 and the several alterations afterwards made in it, 
 so far from being improvements, contributed only 
 to defeat the intention of the architect, and to 
 spoil the building* 3 . 
 
 23 Mr. Gibber, speaking of the alterations made in the 
 Hay-market theatre, built by Sir John Vanbrugh, says, 
 " as there are not many spectators who may remember 
 " what form the Drury-lane theatre stood in about forty 
 " years ago, before the old patentee, to make it hold more 
 " money, took it into his head to alter it, it were but jus- 
 " tice to lay the original figure, which Sir Christopher 
 " Wren first gave it, and the alterations of it now standing, 
 " in a fair light ; that equal spectators may see, if they 
 " were at their choice, which of their structures would in- 
 " cline them to a preference. It must be observed then, 
 " that the area or platform of the old stage projected about 
 " four feet forwarder, in a semioval figure, parallel to the 
 " benches of the pit; and that the former lower doors of 
 " entrance for the actors were brought down between the 
 " two foremost (and then only) pilasters; in the place of 
 " which doors, now the two stage-boxes are fixt. That 
 " where the doors of entrance now are, there formerly 
 
 VOL. I. h
 
 XCviii .SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 The new theatre being finished, was opened on 
 the 26th of March, 1674. On this occasion a Pro- 
 
 " stood two additional side wings, in front to a full set of 
 " scenes, which had then almost a double effect, in their 
 " loftiness and magnificence. By this original form the 
 " usual station of the actors, in almost every scene was ad- 
 " vanced at least ten feet nearer to the audience, than they 
 " now can be ; because, not only from the stage's being 
 " shortened in front, but likewise from the additional in- 
 " terposition of those stage-boxes, the actors (in respect to 
 " the spectators, that fill them) are kept so much more 
 " backward from the main audience, than they used to be : 
 " but when the actors were in possession of that for- 
 " warder space, to advance upon, the voice was then more 
 " in the centre of the house, so that the most distant ear 
 " had scarcethe least doubt, or difficulty, in hearing 
 " what felt from the weakest utterance : all objects 
 " were thus drawn nearer to the sense ; every painted 
 " scene was stronger; every grand scene and dance more 
 " extended ; every rich or fine coloured habit had a more 
 " lively lustre : nor was the minutest motion of a feature 
 " (properly changing with the passion, or humour, it suited) 
 " ever lost, as they frequently must he in the obscurity of 
 " too great a distance : and how valuable an advantage the 
 " facility of hearing distinctly is to every well acted scene, 
 ft every common spectator is a judge. A voice scarce raised 
 " above the tone of a whisper, either in tenderness, resig- 
 " nation, innocent distress, or jealousy suppressed, often 
 " have as much concern with the heart, as the clamorous 
 " passions ; and when, on any of these occasions, such af- 
 " fecting speeches are plainly heard or lost, how wide is 
 ' the difference, from the great or little satisfaction re- 
 " ceived from them?" Gibber's Apology, edit. i?50, p. 338,
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. xcix 
 
 logue and Epilogue were delivered, both written 
 by Mr. Dryden 94 , in which the plainness and want 
 of ornament in the house, compared with that in 
 Dorset Gardens, were particularly mentioned. The 
 encouragement given to the latter on account of 
 its scenery and decorations was not forgotten ; 
 and as an apology for the deficiency of embellish- 
 ment which was to be found in the former, the di- 
 rection of his Majesty is expressly asserted". That 
 the concerns of the stage were sometimes thought 
 not unworthy the notice of royalty is very well 
 known. 
 
 The preference given to Davenant's theatre, on 
 account of its scenery and decorations, alarmed 
 those belonging to the rival house. To stop the 
 progress of the public taste, and to divert it to- 
 wards themselves, they endeavoured to ridicule the 
 performances which were so much followed. The 
 person employed was Thomas Duffet, who paro- 
 died the Tempest, Macbeth and Psyche : these ef- 
 forts were, however, ineffectual. The Duke's 
 theatre continued to be frequented ; the victory of 
 sound and shew over sense aud reason was as 
 complete in the theatre at this period as it hath 
 
 * See his Works, vol. I!, p. 302. 
 
 85 " Yet if some pride with want may be allowed, 
 
 " We in our plainness may be justly proud : 
 
 " Our royal matter wilfd it should be no ; 
 
 " Whate'er he's pleas'd to dwn, can need no shew .''
 
 SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 often been since. The King's theatre languished ; 
 but the great expenses incurred at the other di- 
 minished their gains to such a degree, that after a. 
 few years the leaders in each discovered that it 
 would be for their mutual advantage to unite their 
 interests together, and open but one house. Of 
 those who originally belonged to Killigrew's com- 
 pany, several had quitted the stage, some were 
 dead, and the chief who remained began to expe- 
 rience the infirmities of age. These considerations 
 induced them to listen to overtures from Dave- 
 nant, Betterton, and Smith, who entered into an 
 agreement with Hart and Kynaston, which ef- 
 fectually detached those performers from the King's 
 theatre 26 . Their revolt, and the influence which 
 they possessed, seem to have effected the union 
 sooner than it otherwise might have been agreed 
 to, though it could not have been prevented any 
 length of time &, having been recommended by the 
 King. The junction took place in the year 1682 28 , 
 
 46 This agreement is printed in Gildon's Life of Better- 
 ton, 1710, p. 8. 
 
 27 Gibber's Apology, p. 81. 
 
 28 Gibber says 1684 ; and Derrick, in his edition of Dry- 
 den, vol. II. p. 50. hath dated it in 1686. The date, how- 
 ever, above set down is the true one. Mrs. Barry, who 
 was one of the King's company, performed in The Spanish 
 Fryer, which appeared in the latter end of 1 681, or the be- 
 ginning of l6"82.
 
 MR. DODSLEY S PREFACE. Cl 
 
 on which event the Duke's company quitted Dor- 
 set Gardens, and removed to Drury-lane. Hart 
 performed no more, but retired on a pension ; 
 and Mohun soon afterwards died. The remainder 
 of the troop were incorporated with the Duke's, 
 and for the future were styled the King's Com- 
 pany. 
 
 The advantages which were expected to follow 
 this junction do not appear to have been the con- 
 sequence of it. Though the patents were united, 
 the profits to the proprietors and performers seem 
 not to have been increased. The old patentees 
 either sold their authority to new adventurers, or 
 relinquished all their attention to the management. 
 On the 30th of August, 1687, Mr. Charles Dave- 
 nant assigned his patent to Alexander Davenant, esq. 
 who, on the 24th of March, 1690, sold his interest 
 therein to Christopher Rich 29 , a lawyer, whose 
 
 9f ' From the representatives of this gentleman, the pre- 
 sent patentees of Covent-Garden theatre derive the autho- 
 rity they enjoy. It is generally said and believed, that the 
 patent granted to Killegrew is in the same hands. The 
 obscurity which always accompanies the transfer of private 
 property prevents me from tracing the manner in which 
 that patent was disposed of. By a letter from Mr. Pope to 
 Aaron Hill, dated 22d of May, 1733, it is said, that a pa- 
 tent not used was then in the hands of one of the Davenant 
 family ; and on August 3 1, in the same year, Mr. Hill men-
 
 Cll . SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 name is often to be found in the future annals of 
 the theatre. This gentleman, who was not pos- 
 sessed of abilities calculated to make the stage 
 flourish under his administration, soon contrived 
 to engross the whole power into his own hands. 
 By various instances of mismanagement, he alie- 
 nated the affections of the principal performers 
 from him, and by wanton oppressions provoked 
 them to attempt their deliverance from the tyranny 
 he exercised over them. An association of the 
 actors was entered into, with Betterton at the 
 head of it. Their complaint, by means of the earl 
 of Dorset 30 , was laid before king William, and 
 was considered of sufficient importance to engage 
 the attention of his Majesty. The principal law- 
 yers at that period were consulted, who agreed that 
 the grants, from king Charles to Killegrew and 
 Darenant, did not preclude the reigning prince 
 from giving a similar authority to any person with 
 whom he might chuse to intrust it. In conse- 
 quence of this opinion, a licence was granted to a 
 select number of the players to act in a separate 
 theatre for themselves. 
 
 This favour being obtained a subscription was 
 
 tions an offer which had been made to him of a patent on 
 payment of 4001. a year. Whether this was the same men- 
 tioned by Mr. Pope, I am unable to discover. 
 30 Gibber's Apology, p. 157-
 
 MR. DODSLEY S PREFACE. Clil 
 
 set on foot for building a new theatre within the 
 walls of the Tennis-Court, in Liucoln's-Inn Fields 31 . 
 The people of quality, to shew their sense of the 
 ill treatment which the actors had received, con- 
 tributed very liberally for this purpose. The pa- 
 tentees became sensible of the folly of their con- 
 duct, and to repair the mischief they had done 
 themselves, endeavoured to retain as many of the 
 actors as they could engage. To supply the places 
 of some who had left them, they brought a few 
 new performers from the companies in the country, 
 and made the best disposition they were able, to 
 encounter their enemies. 
 
 The theatre in Lincoln's-Inn Fields was opened, 
 on the 30th of April, 1695, with the new comedy 
 of Love for Lore Si , which was acted with extraor- 
 dinary success during the remainder of the season. 
 The new adventurers, however, met with an oppo- 
 sition from a quarter where it was not expected. A 
 number of the inhabitants of Lincoln's-Inn Fields, 
 finding themselves incommoded by the concourse 
 of coaches which the playhouse drew together, had 
 recourse to the law to remedy the inconveniences 
 they suffered. In Trinity Term, they moved the 
 Court of King's Bench for a prohibition to re- 
 strain the company from acting any longer at the 
 
 31 Gibber's Apology, p. 158. 32 Ibid. p. 160.
 
 CIV - SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 new house ; and a rule being granted, cause was 
 shewn against it in the succeeding term, when fur- 
 ther time 33 was allowed to each party to come be- 
 fore the court more fully prepared to support and 
 invalidate their several suggestions. The event of 
 this law-suit can only be conjectured from the com- 
 pany's being permitted to act until their removal to 
 the Hay-market. 
 
 The prosperity of the new house was of no long 
 continuance. After one or two years' success the 
 audiences began to decline, and it was found that 
 two rival theatres were more than the town was 
 able to support. The old house suffered all the 
 distresses which obstinacy and ignorance in a ma- 
 nager at the head of a raw, unexperienced set of 
 actors could produce. Having little judgement to 
 direct him in the conduct of a theatre, he not only 
 permitted the best plays to be mangled by the most 
 despicable performers, but by the introduction of 
 tumblers and buffoons, and by other extravagances, 
 brought the entertainments of the stage to the 
 lowest degree of contempt s *. He persisted, how- 
 ever, to the last in the same mode of conduct 
 which his son afterwards followed, and by that 
 means had a greater influence on the present pub- 
 lic entertainments than at first sight would be 
 thought probable. 
 
 33 Skinner's Reports, p. 625. 34 Gibber, passim.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. cv 
 
 While the rival theatres were contending against 
 each other with inveterate malice, an enemy to the 
 very toleration of dramatic entertainments ap- 
 peared, who, with considerable ability and with all 
 the rigid puritanical maxims of a severe sect, 
 attacked the stage on account of its profaneness 
 and immorality. This was the celebrated Jeremy 
 Collier, who in 1697 published a book, containing 
 a severe invective against the acting of plays, the 
 profligacy of the performers, arid the licentiousness 
 of the poets ; and having some truth and justice on 
 his side, the advocates for the theatre found them- 
 selves hard pressed to answer the charges brought 
 against their favourite diversion. It cannot be 
 denied but that many authors, and some in great 
 favour with the public, had written in a manner 
 which warranted the censure of every person who 
 professed the least regard to propriety or decency. 
 Mr. Collier was opposed by Congreve, Vanbrugh, 
 Dryden, Dennis, and others*, with wit and hu- 
 
 * One of these " others" is said to have been the cele- 
 brated Tom Brown, to whom is ascribed a dramatic piece ri- 
 diculing Jeremy Collier, called "The Stage-beaux tossed m 
 a Blanket, or Hypocrisy a la Mode, exposed in the true pic- 
 ture of Jerry pretending to scourge the English stage. 1 ' 
 
 1 704. Those who have hitherto mentioned this performance, 
 have not been aware that it is for the most part merely an 
 adaptation of Moliere's Critique de I'Ecole des Femmes. The 
 Editor of the Iliogr. Dram, says that the piece was never 
 
 4
 
 CV1 SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 mour, but without confuting the objections which 
 had been started either against themselves indivi- 
 dually, or against the stage in general. The public 
 opinion ran so much against the defenders of the 
 theatre, and in favour of their enemy, that king 
 William considered Mr. Collier's book as a work 
 which entitled the atithor of it to some lenity in a 
 prosecution then carrying on in consequence of 
 errors in his political conduct 35 . This controversy 
 produced as much as could be wished for from it. 
 Mr. Gibber observes, " the calling our dramatic 
 " writers to this strict account had a very whole- 
 " some effect upon those who writ after this time. 
 " They were now a great deal more upon their 
 " guard ; indecencies were no longer wit ; and by 
 " degrees the fair sex came again to fill the boxes 
 " on the first day of a new comedy without fear or 
 " censure." 
 
 To forward the stage's reformation, prosecutions 
 were commenced against some of the performers 
 for repeating prophane and indecent words. Se- 
 veral were found guilty, and Betterton and Mrs. 
 Bracegirdle were actually fined 38 . These seve- 
 
 acted, but the " Epilogue upon the Reformers," professes to 
 have been " spoken by Mr. Wilkes, at the Theatre Royal, 
 in " Drury Lane." C. 
 
 35 Gibber, p. 225. 
 
 36 Gildon's Comparison between the two stages, 1702, 
 8vo. p. 143.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. cvii 
 
 rities were not entirely thrown away. From this 
 period may be dated the introduction of that more 
 refined taste whicli hath done so much credit to 
 the British theatre. 
 
 The managers acting under the united patents 
 had hitherto made use of both the theatres in 
 Dorset-Garden 37 and Drury-lane; but about this 
 time the former of these houses was deserted 38 . 
 
 37 In a paper published by Theoph. Gibber in 1733, dur- 
 ing his contest with Hi^hmore, it is said that Dorset- 
 Garden was used as a summer theatre. 
 
 38 A lottery was drawn there in the year l6<)0, as may be 
 seen from the following title of a pamphlet printed at that 
 time : " The wheel of fortune or nothing for a penny. 
 " Being remarks on the drawing of the penny lottery at 
 " the Theatre-royal in Dorset- Garden, with the characters 
 " of some of the honourable trustees, and all due acknow- 
 " legements to his honour the undertaker. Written by a 
 " person who was cursed mad he had not the 1000/. Lot." 
 4to. In the preceding year, Settle's Play of The H'orld in 
 the Mow had been acted there. But in 1700, if it was oc- 
 cupied at all, it must have been by rope-dancers. In the 
 Prologue to The Constant Couple, are these lines : 
 
 " Ah friends ! poor Dorset-Garden- House is gone ; 
 " Our merry meetings there are all undone : 
 " Quite lost to us, sure for seme strange misdeeds, 
 " That strong dog Sampson pull'd it o'er our heads, 
 " Snaps rope like thread : but when his fortune's told him, 
 " He'll hear perhaps of rope will one day hold him: 
 " At least, I hope that our good natur'd town 
 " Will find a way to pull his prices down."
 
 CVlil ' SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 The company which had been left by JBetterton 
 and his party, after struggling with unequal force 
 against the excellent performers who listed under 
 the banner of that respectable veteran, began now 
 to remove the prejudices which had been enter- 
 tained against them, and to claim their share of 
 applause. Many of them were much improved. 
 They had the advantage of youth, and having had 
 the opportunity of exhibiting themselves in new 
 characters, where comparisons to their disadvan- 
 tage could not be made, they began to be viewed 1 
 in a more favourable light. In the mean time, 
 Betterton and some of his associates were daily 
 losing ground through old age. Their system of 
 management, which had been hastily settled, de- 
 prived their principal friend of that authority which 
 is necessary for the person who undertakes to 
 govern any body of people, and especially those 
 who belong to a theatre. The house itself was too 
 small, and poorly fitted up, very insufficient for the 
 purposes of profit or splendor. These considera- 
 tions induced Sir John Vanbrugh to procure sub- 
 scriptions for erecting a new and magnificent play- 
 house in the Hay-market, calculated to do honour 
 to the architect and to the nation, and at the same 
 time produce wealth to those who were concerned 
 in it. The sum of SOOO/. was immediately raised, 
 and the building begun under Sir John's direction. 
 On this scheme being proposed, it was agreed
 
 MR. DODSLEYS PREFACE. C1X 
 
 that Mr. Betterton should assign^ over to Van- 
 brugh his licence to perform, and for the future 
 serve only as an actor without any concern in the 
 conduct or direction of the theatre. The proposal 
 was readily assented to on the part of Betterton. 
 He had now been upon the stage between forty 
 and fifty years, and found the infirmities of age be- 
 ginning to make inroads upon his constitution. 
 He was therefore desirous of repose, and to be 
 relieved from the fatigues of management. In the 
 latter part of the year 1 704, he performed his part 
 of the agreement by surrendering to Sir John 
 Vanbrugh all his right and interest in the licence 
 granted to him. The new proprietor associated 
 himself with Mr. Congreve, and, from the joint 
 abilities of such excellent writers, great expecta- 
 tions were formed. On the 9th day of April, 
 1705, the theatre was opened with an Italian 
 Opera, which did not meet with the success ex- 
 pected from it 40 , and a Prologue written by Sir 
 Samuel Garth. The failure of their first hope 
 obliged the principal manager to exert himself; 
 and he accordingly, with that happy facility which 
 accompanied him in writing, immediately produced 
 
 59 Downes, p. 47. 
 
 40 The foundation stone of this theatre was laid by Lady 
 Harriet Godolphin, says Curll ; but according to others, by 
 Lady Sunderland, and upon it was inscribed The little Wlii^- 
 Dr- Garth's Prologue is printed in his Works.
 
 SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 no less than four 41 new pieces. But these were 
 insufficient to bring the theatre into reputation. 
 It was soon found, that the architect of it was 
 better qualified to support the stage by his writings 
 than to build houses to act them in. Every piece 
 represented appeared under manifest disadvantage. 
 The edifice was a vast triumphal piece of archi- 
 tecture, wholly unfit for every purpose of conve- 
 nience ; the vast columns, the gilded cornices, and 
 lofty roofs, availed very little, when scarce one 
 word in ten could be distinctly heard, for it had 
 not then the form it has now. " At the first 
 " opening it," says Mr. Gibber, " the flat ceiling, 
 " that is now over the orchestre, was then a semi- 
 " oval arch, that sprung fifteen feet higher from 
 " above the cornice. The ceiling over the pit too 
 " was still more raised, being one level line from 
 " the highest back part of the upper gallery to the 
 " front of the stage ; the front boxes were a con- 
 " tinued semicircle to the bare walls of the house 
 " on each side: this extraordinary and superfluous 
 " space occasioned such an undulation from the 
 " voice of every actor, that generally what they 
 " said sounded like the gabbling of so many people 
 " in the lofty isles in a cathedral The tone of a 
 " trumpet, or the swell of an eunuch's holding 
 
 41 The Confederacy ; The Cuckold in Conceit ; Squire Treeloby ; 
 and The Mistake. Gibber's Apology, p. 263.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. cxi 
 
 " note, 'tis true, might be sweetened by it ; but 
 " the articulate sounds of a speaking voice were 
 " drowned by the hollow reverberations of one word 
 " under another 4 *." To these disadvantages the 
 situation might be added ; it had not at that time 
 the benefit of a large city, which hath since been 
 built in its neighbourhood, and it was too remote 
 from the then frequenters of the theatre to be much 
 attended by them. All these circumstances unit- 
 ing together afforded so little prospect of profit or 
 success, that in a few months Mr. Congreve gave 
 up his share and interest wholly to Sir John Van- 
 brugh 43 ; who, at the end of the second season, 
 either finding the gains which arose from the 
 management too few, or the trouble ari&ing from 
 his attendance on it too much, grew also disgusted 
 with his situation, and wished to be relieved from 
 it. But of so little value was the theatre consi- 
 dered at that juncture, that no person thought it 
 of consequence enough to apply for it. At length 
 it was offered to Mr. Owen Swiney, a mere ad- 
 venturer without property, who had been employed 
 by Mr. Rich as under-manager, and who, with the 
 concurrence of his principal, agreed for it at the 
 rate of five pounds for every acting day, and not to 
 exceed 700/. in the year. The new manager 
 entered upon his undertaking in the latter part of 
 
 41 Gibber's Apol. p. 259. 4S Ibid. p. 263.
 
 CX11 SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 the year 1706, and at the end of the first season 
 found that he had considerably improved his for- 
 tune. 
 
 From the time that Mr. Rich got possession of 
 Drury-lane theatre, he had paid no regard to the 
 property of any of the parties who had joint inte- 
 rests with him, but proceeded as though he was 
 sole proprietor of it. Whatever he received he 
 kept to himself, without accounting to any of his 
 partners ; and he had continued this mode of con- 
 duct so long, that those who had any claims on the 
 theatre abandoned them in despair of ever receiv- 
 ing any advantage from them. The concerns of 
 the play-house were thought of so little worth, 
 that about this time Sir Thomas Skipwith, who 
 Gibber says had an equal right 44 with Rich, in a 
 frolic, made a present of his share to Colonel Brett, 
 a gentleman of fortune, who soon after forced him- 
 self into the management much against the inclina- 
 tion of his partner. The ill effect of two play- 
 houses being open at once, in point of profit, 
 appeared so evident to Mr. Brett, that the first 
 object he dedicated his attention to was a reunion 
 of the two companies, and, through the interposition 
 
 * 4 Cibber's Apol. p. 300. If this is a fact, it may be 
 presumed that the patent granted to Killegrew, either in 
 part or the whole, was vested in him. It does not appear 
 how he became intitled to it.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. cxiii 
 
 of the Lord Chamberlain, he effected it in the year 
 1708. It was then resolved, that the theatre in 
 the Hay-market should be appropriated to Italian 
 Operas; and that in Drury-lane to Plays. The 
 one was given to Swiney, and the other continued 
 with Rich and Brett ; the latter of whom conduct- 
 ing the business of it in a different manner from 
 what it had heretofore been, brought it once more 
 into so good a state, that Sir Thomas Skipwith 
 repented of his generosity, and applied to the Court 
 of Chancery to have the property he had given 
 away restored him. Colonel Brett, offended at 
 this treatment, relinquished his claim; and Mr. 
 Rich again possessed himself of all the powers of 
 the patent. 
 
 Instead of being warned by the experience of 
 past times, to avoid the difficulties which a tyran- 
 nical and oppressive behaviour to the performers 
 had occasioned, the acting manager resumed his 
 former conduct, without fearing or apprehending 
 any resistance to his measures. An application to 
 the Lord Chamberlain was the consequence ; and 
 that officer, who was supposed to possess both an 
 absolute and undefinable authority over the stage, 
 agreed to permit as many of the actors as chose to 
 engage with Swiney to desert from Drury-lane, and 
 act at the Hay-market 45 . A private treaty was 
 
 45 Gibber's Apol. p. 331. 
 VOL. i. i
 
 CX1V . SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 accordingly entered into ; and Wilks, Dogget, and 
 Gibber, were proposed to be managers and joint- 
 sharers with Swiney in conducting the theatre, which 
 for the future was to be used both as a Play-house 
 and Opera-house. After all the preliminaries were 
 settled, the Lord Chamberlain issued an order, 
 dated 7th of June, 1709, forbidding the patentees 
 to perform any longer; on which the house was 
 shut up. 
 
 The deserters immediately began to alter the 
 Hay-market theatre, in order to obviate the incon- 
 veniences of its original construction, and make it 
 fit for the representation of dramatic performances. 
 They began to act in the winter of the year 1709 ; 
 and their audiences so much exceeded their expec- 
 tations 46 , that they would have had every reason 
 to be content with the change which had happened, 
 if the direction of the Operas, which this season 
 began to decline, had not greatly diminished their 
 profits. On the whole, however, they appear to 
 have received more than they had done at Drury- 
 lane, and therefore were not dissatisfied with their 
 emancipation from the authority of their former 
 governor. 
 
 The power of the Chamberlain had always been 
 implicitly acknowledged. Those therefore who 
 had any concern in the interdicted theatre patiently 
 
 48 Gibber's Apol. p. 345.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. cxv 
 
 submitted to the prohibition, and had recourse 
 only to supplications in order to procure a revoca- 
 tion of the silencing order. As it was put in 
 execution so late in the season, no immediate 
 detriment ensued ; and it was generally expected, 
 that as the time of acting approached in the follow- 
 ing winter, the proprietors would be permitted to 
 open their house. The summer was taken up in peti- 
 tions to the Chamberlain, and appeals to the Queen's 
 justice and humanity, both from the patentees and 
 players. The applications, however, were not 
 crowned with success ; the order was still con- 
 tinued in force, and at the beginning of the season 
 one theatre only employed. 
 
 As soon as it appeared with certainty that the old 
 manager would not be able to obtain a recall of the 
 order for silencing the patent, one who had some 
 property in the house, and who had joined in all 
 the applications to be relieved against the Cham- 
 berlain's mandate, determined to avail himself of 
 his interest at court, and profit by the distress of 
 his partners. This was William Collier, Esq. a 
 lawyer 47 of an enterprizing head and a jovial heart. 
 He was a member of parliament, and by his con- 
 vivial qualities had become a favourite with the 
 people then in power, and was often admitted to 
 partake with them in those detached hours of life 
 when business was to give way to pleasure. 
 47 Gibber's Apol. p. 345.
 
 CXV1 SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 This gentleman, observing the situation of thea- 
 trical affairs to be desperate in the hands of Mr. 
 Rich, applied for and obtained a license to take 
 the management of the company left at Drury-lane. 
 The late patentee, who still continued in the 
 theatre, though without the power of using it, was 
 not to be removed without compulsion. Mr. Col- 
 lier, therefore, procured a lease of the house from 
 the landlords of it, and armed with this authority 
 took the advantage of a rejoicing 4 night, the 22d 
 of November, when, with a hired rabble, he broke 
 into it, and turned the former owner out of posses- 
 sion. 
 
 Here ended the power of Mr. Rich over the 
 theatres. After his expulsion from Drury-lane, he 
 employed the remainder of his life in rebuilding 
 the .playhouse in Lincoln's-Inn Fields', which was 
 opened about six weeks after his death, by his son, 
 in the year 1714, with the Comedy of The Recruit- 
 ing Officer 49 . Both this theatre and its manager 
 will be mentioned hereafter. 
 
 48 Cibber's Apology, p. 346. A ludicrous account of this 
 transaction is given in the Taller, No. 99. 
 
 49 On this occasion I have been informed by a gentleman 
 who was present, that a Prologue was spoken by the new 
 manager dressed in mourning. 
 
 This Prologue I since find to be in print, in a collection 
 called " A new Miscellany of Tales, Songs, and Poems. 
 By several hands." I2mo. n. d. p. 6l. It concluded with 
 these lines :
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. cxvii 
 
 The scheme which Mr. Collier had engaged in 
 did not prosper according to his wishes ; the pro- 
 fits of the season were very small, and by no means 
 a compensation for the trouble, risk, and expence, 
 which he had been at in seating himself on the 
 theatrical throne. The joint-sharers at the Hay- 
 market had acquired both fame and money; he 
 therefore meditated an exchange of theatres with 
 them, and, by again employing his influence at 
 court, soon effected it. By the agreement which 
 was then entered into between the rival managers, 
 the sole licence for acting plays was vested in 
 Swiney and his partners ; and the performance of 
 Operas was to be confined to the Hay-market 
 under the direction of Collier 50 . 
 
 The authority which this gentleman had now 
 obtained in the Opera-house, he immediately farmed 
 to 5I Aaron Hill, Esq. for 600Z. per annum; but 
 
 " But oh, my poor father! alas he died 
 " Ere he beheld this house in finish'd pride. 
 " He rais'd the stately pile by slow degrees, 
 " Big with the hopes a curious town to please. 
 " Let generous pity move the brare and fair 
 " To take his poor remains unto your care : 
 " Who dies in love, a martyr's pity draws 
 " From all ; then let him share the same applause, 
 " Who died a martyr for this good old cause. 
 " Still let true noble gratitude be shewn, 
 " And for a father's sake support the son !" I. R. 
 * Gibber's Apology, p. 353. M Ibid. 3o6.
 
 CXV111 SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 before the season expired he resumed the manage- 
 ment again into his own hands. The flourishing 
 state of Drury-Iane had attracted his notice and 
 envy. He grew again dissatisfied with his station, 
 and proposed once more to return to the stage he 
 had abandoned. The same power which had 
 hitherto supported him in his caprices still con- 
 tinued to favour him. Swiney was obliged to re- 
 turn to the Hay-market; and Collier, Wilks, 
 Dogget, and Gibber, remained at Drury-lane 
 where from this period the abilities, industry, and 
 integrity of the managers brought their theatre 
 into so much reputation, that it became to them 
 the source of independence during the rest of their 
 lives. At the end of the first season, Swiney was' 
 ruined at the Hay-market, and obliged to banish 
 himself from the kingdom. 
 
 As soon as the new regulation was settled, 
 Collier rendered his share a sinecure, and agreed 
 to accept a certain sum annually in lieu of all 
 claims. In 1712, the Tragedy of Cato was acted, 
 wherein Mr. Booth acquired so much reputation, 
 that he was encouraged to solicit for a share in the 
 management of the theatre, and was gratified in it 
 during the succeeding year. On his introduction, 
 Dogget, in disgust, retired from the management, 
 to which he never afterwards returned. 
 
 In the year 1714, Queen Anne died ; and, 
 amongst the changes which that event brought
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. cxix 
 
 about, the management of Drury-lane theatre was 
 not too inconsiderable to attract the notice of the 
 court. At the desire of the acting managers, Sir 
 Richard Steele procured his name to be inserted 
 instead of Collier's in a new licence jointly with 
 them; and this connection lasted many years 
 equally to the advantage of all the parties. In this 
 year, the prohibition which the patent had been 
 long under was removed, and Lincoln's-! nn Fields 
 theatre opened under the direction of the late Mr. 
 John Rich. 
 
 Xo sooner were dramatic performances per- 
 mitted at two theatres, than the manager of the 
 weaker company was obliged to have recourse to 
 foreign aid, and to oppose his antagonists with 
 other weapons than the merits of his actors, or the 
 excellence of the pieces represented by them. 
 The performers who were under Mr. Rich's direc- 
 tion were so much inferior to those at Drury-lane, 
 that the latter carried away all the applause and 
 favour of the town. In this distress, the genius of 
 the new manager suggested to him a species of en- 
 tertainment, which hath always been considered as 
 contemptible, but which at the same time hath been 
 ever followed and encouraged. Pantomimes were 
 now brought forwards ; and, as sound and shew 
 had in the last century obtained a victory over 
 sense and reason, the same event would have 
 followed again, if the company at Drury-lane had
 
 CXX SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 riot, from the experience of past times, thought it 
 advisable to adopt the same measures. The fer- 
 tility of Mr. Rich's invention in these exotic enter- 
 tainments, and the excellence of his performances 
 in them must be ever acknowledged. By means 
 of these only, he kept the managers of the other 
 house at all times from relaxing their diligence ; 
 and, to the disgrace of public taste, frequently ob- 
 tained more money by such ridiculous and paltry 
 performances than all the sterling merit of the other 
 house was able to acquire. 
 
 The business of the stage was carried on success- 
 fully, and without interruption, until about the year 
 1720, when on a disgust which the duke of New- 
 castle, then Lord Chamberlain, had received from 
 Mr. Gibber 52 , that gentleman was for some time 
 
 & The author of a Pamphlet, called " The State of the 
 " Case, between the Lord Chamberlain of his Majesty's 
 " Household and Sir Richard Steele, as represented by that 
 " Knight, restated,'' &c. p. 30. mentions some strokes 
 levelled at the ministry, in Mr. Gibber's Dedication of 
 Ximena to Sir Richard Steele, and these were likely to have 
 been what gave offence. The same writer, however, after- 
 wards asserts the following to have been the real cause: 
 " My lord Duke had a mind to have a certain part per- 
 " formed by a certain actor, which was generally acted by 
 " one of the managers ; and when my lord urged his autho- 
 " rity to enforce his commands, Gibber, visibly slighting 
 " his authority in half a laugh, said, that they were a sort 
 " of separate ministry, and so absolutely refused to obey
 
 MR. DODSLEY S PREFACE. CXX 
 
 forbid to perform ; and soon after a difference 
 arising between the same nobleman and Sir Richard 
 Steele, the power which had been often exercised 
 by the persons who had held his grace's office was 
 exerted, and an order of silence was enforced 
 against the managers. On this occasion a contro- 
 versy succeeded ; but how long the prohibition 
 lasted, or in what manner the difference was ad- 
 justed, no where appears. 
 
 In this year, 1720, a new playhouse was erected 
 in the Hay-market by one Mr. Potter, a carpen- 
 ter i3 . It was not built for any particular person 
 or company, but seems to have been intended as a 
 mere speculation by the architect, who relied on its 
 being occasionally hired for dramatic exhibitions. 
 
 The harmony which had subsisted for many 
 years between Sir RicLard Steele and his partners 
 was soon afterwards interrupted, and the affairs of 
 the theatre became again the objects of a chancery 
 litigation, which, in 1726, was determined in favour 
 
 " my Lord Chamberlain ; upon which he was silenced." 
 Sir Richard, however, in his state of the case, asserts, that 
 all the mortification put upon Mr. Gibber " was intended 
 " only as a remote beginning of evils which were to affect 
 " the patentee " During- the time that the order for silencing 
 Mr. Cibber was in force, Southerne's Tragedy of The Spartan 
 Dame was acted, and the part of Crites intended for that 
 performer was obliged to be read by another actor. 
 M Victor's History of the Theatres, vol. 3. p. 184.
 
 CXXli ' SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 of the acting proprietors 54 by a decree of Sir 
 Joseph Jekyll, then Master of the Rolls. The 
 breach, however, which this dispute had made 
 would perhaps never have been healed, had Sir 
 Richard been able to have resumed his share of the 
 management. His faculties at this time began to 
 decline : he soon afterwards retired into Wales, 
 where he died on the 1st of September, 1729. 
 
 As the powers of the patent granted to him 
 terminated at the end of three years after his death, 
 the remaining managers solicited and obtained a 
 renewal of the authority for twenty one years com- 
 mencing on the 1st of September, 1732; but the 
 prosperous course of their affairs was doomed 
 about this time to be first checked, and afterwards 
 put an end to by the illness and deaths of the 
 principal persons concerned in the theatre. Booth 
 was rendered incapable of performing for several 
 years before he died. On the 23d of October, 
 1730, the stage suffered an irreparable loss by the 
 death of Mrs. Oldfield ; and about the same time 
 Mrs. Porter was prevented from acting by the 
 misfortune of a dislocated limb. To complete the 
 whole, Wilks died in September, 1731 ; and 
 Gibber, disliking his new partners, grew weary of 
 his share, and took the earliest opportunity of 
 parting with it. 
 
 34 Gibber's Apology, p. 426.
 
 MR. DODSLEY S PREFACE. CXX111 
 
 The number of theatres in London was this year, 
 1729, increased by the addition of one in Good- 
 man's Fields, which met with great opposition from 
 many respectable merchants and grave citizens, 
 who apprehended much mischief from the intro- 
 duction of these kind of diversions so near to their 
 own habitations. Some of the clergy" also took 
 the alarm, and preached with much vehemence 
 against it. Mr. Odell, however, the proprietor, 
 was not deterred from pursuing his design ; he 
 completed the building, and, having collected a 
 company, began to perform in it. It is asserted, 
 that for some time he got not less than one hun- 
 dred pounds a week by this undertaking; but the 
 clamour against it continuing i6 , he was obliged to 
 abandon the further prosecution of his scheme ; by 
 which means he sustained a considerable loss. It 
 was afterwards revived by Mr. Giffard with some 
 degree of success. 
 
 The patent for Drury-lane being renewed, Mr. 
 Booth, who found his disorder increase, began to 
 think it was time to dispose of his share and inte- 
 
 is A Sermon was preached against it at St. Botolph, 
 Aldgate, on 3oth of November, 1729, by Arthur Bedford, 
 M. A. It was printed in the next year. 
 
 56 It is asserted in a Pamphlet, called " The Usefulness 
 " of the Stage to Religion and Government," &c, 8vo. 1738, 
 that an address was presented to the king from the lord 
 mayor and court of aldermen for the suppressing of it.
 
 CXX1V SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 rest in the theatre. The person upon whom he 
 fixed for a purchaser was John Highraore, Esq. 
 a gentleman of fortune, who unhappily had con- 
 tracted an attachment to the stage, from having 
 performed the part of Lothario one night for a 
 wager. A treaty between them was set on foot 
 soon after Mr. Wilks's death, and was concluded 
 by Mr. Highmore's agreeing to purchase one half 
 of Mr. Booth's share, with the whole of his power 
 in the management, for the sum of two thousand 
 five hundred pounds. Before his admission, Mrs. 
 Wilks had deputed Mr. Ellis to attend to the con- 
 duct of the theatre in her behalf. The introduc- 
 tion of two people into the management, who were 
 totally unqualified either by their abilities or expe- 
 rience for the offices they were to fill, gave offence 
 to Mr. Gibber: he, therefore, to avoid being 
 troubled with the importance of the one or the 
 ignorance of the other of his brethren, authorized 
 his son Theophilus to act for him as far as his in- 
 terest was concerned. The first season was ended 
 with some profit to the new patentees; but Mr. 
 Highmore, being hurt by the impertinence of 
 young Gibber, determined to get rid of his inter- 
 ference, and purchased the father's share for the 
 sum of three thousand guineas *?. 
 This second purchase by Mr. Highmore was 
 
 " Victor's History of the Theatres, vol. 1. p. 8.
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. cxxv 
 
 made at the beginning of the season of 1733, 
 about the same time that Mrs. Booth sold her hus- 
 band's remaining share to Mr. Giffard. Mr. High- 
 more's connection with the theatre began now to 
 be attended with alarming consequences to him ; 
 two weeks had hardly passed before the principal 
 actors, spirited up by young Gibber, determined to 
 revolt from the patentees, and set up for them- 
 selves. The house called the little Theatre in the 
 Hay-market was then unoccupied ; they therefore 
 agreed to rent it of the proprietor, and, after 
 making the necessary alterations, opened it with 
 the Comedy of Love for Love, to an elegant 
 crowded audience 58 . 
 
 The patentees also, though weakened by the 
 desertion of their best performers, began to act 
 at the usual time. To supply the places of those 
 who had left their service, they were obliged to 
 have recourse to such assistance as the country 
 companies would afford. With all the help they 
 could obtain, their performances were so much in- 
 ferior to those exhibited at the Hay-market, that a 
 constant loss was sustained until the end of the 
 season. Mr. Highmore in the mean time buoyed 
 himself up with hopes of obtaining 1 redress, first 
 from the Lord Chamberlain, and afterwards by 
 putting the laws concerning vagrants in force 
 
 S8 Victor's History of the Theatres, vol. l. p. 11.
 
 CXXV1 SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 against the delinquent players. In both these ex- 
 pectations he found himself disappointed. The 
 losses fell so heavy upon him, that he was under 
 the necessity of giving up the contention, in order 
 to secure a small part of the property he had impru- 
 dently risked in this unfortunate undertaking. 
 
 The person who now succeeded to the patent of 
 Drury-lane playhouse was Charles Fleetwood, a 
 gentleman who at one period of his life had pos- 
 sessed a very large fortune, of which at this time a 
 small portion only remained. He purchased not 
 only the share belonging to Mr. Highmore, but 
 those of all the other partners ; and so little value 
 was then set upon the theatre, that the whole sum 
 which he disbursed for it little more than exceeded 
 the half of what Mr: Highmore had before paid. 
 The revolting actors were by this time become dis- 
 satisfied with their situations. A treaty was there- 
 fore opened, and soon concluded, for their return 
 to Drury-lane. 
 
 Although dramatic entertainments were not at 
 this time supported by the abilities of any actors of 
 extraordinary merit, and the characters of those 
 excellent performers who had lately been lost from 
 Drury-lane were very ill supplied, yet this period 
 seems to have been particularly marked by a spirit 
 of enterprize which prevailed in theatrical affairs. 
 The ill fortune of Mr. Ode)l at Goodman's Fields 
 had not extinguished the expectations of another
 
 MR. DODSLEY S PREFACE. CXXVll 
 
 schemer, who solicited and obtained a subscription 
 for building a magnificent playhouse w in that part 
 of the town ; and in spite of all opposition it was 
 completed and opened on the 2d day of October, 
 1732, with the play of King Henry IV. Mr. Gif- 
 fard the new proprietor, however, did not remain 
 long there. In 1/33, the house in Covent-Garden 
 was finished, and Mr. Rich's company immediately 
 removed thither, which occasioned the old building 
 in Lincoln's-Inn Fields to be deserted. Mr. Gif- 
 fard was then advised, that it would be more for 
 his advantage to quit Goodman's Fields, and take 
 the vacant edifice. He accordingly agreed for it 
 in 1/35, and acted there during the two ensuing- 
 years. 
 
 Soon afterwards, though at .a time when so many 
 theatres were employed to divert the public, and 
 
 59 " In a large oval over the pit is painted the figure of 
 " his Majesty, attended by peace, liberty, and justice, 
 " trampling tyranny and oppression, under his feet : round 
 " it are the heads of Shakespeare, Dryden, Congreve, and 
 " Betterton : on the coving of the left hand is painted the 
 " scene of Cato pointing to the dead body of his son Mar- 
 " cus : in the middle, that of Julius Csesar stabbed in the 
 " Senate-house : and on the right, that of Mark Anthony 
 " and Octavia, where the children are introduced in All for 
 " Love : on the sounding board over the stage is a hand- 
 '* some piece of painting of Apollo and the nine Muses.'' 
 Gent. Mag. 1732, p. 1028.
 
 CXXviii SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 when none of them were in a flourishing state, the 
 imprudence and extravagance of a gentleman, who 
 possessed genius, wit, and humour in a high de- 
 gree, obliged him to strike out a new species of 
 entertainment, which in the end produced an ex- 
 traordinary change in the constitution of the dra- 
 matic system. To extricate himself out of diffi- 
 culties in which he was involved, and probably to 
 revenge some indignities which had been thrown 
 upon him by people in power, that admirable 
 painter and accurate observer of life, the late Henry 
 Fielding, determined to amuse the town at the ex- 
 pence of some persons in high rank, and of great 
 influence in the political world. For this purpose he 
 got together a company of performers, who exhi- 
 bited at the theatre in the Hay-market, under the 
 whimsical title of the Great Mogul's Company of 
 Comedians. The piece he represented was Pas- 
 quin, which was acted to crowded audiences for 
 fifty successive nights. Encouraged by the fa- 
 vourable reception this performance met with, he 
 determined to continue at the same place the next 
 season, when he produced several new plays, some 
 of which were applauded, and the rest condemned. 
 As soon as the novelty of the design was over, a 
 visible difference appeared between the audiences 
 of the two years. The company, which as the 
 play-bills said dropped from the clouds, were dis- 
 banded ; and the manager, not having attended to
 
 MR. DODSLEY S PREPACK. CXX1X 
 
 the voice of economy in his prosperity, was left 
 no richer or more independent than when he first 
 engaged in the project. 
 
 The severity of Mr. Fielding's satire in these 
 pieces had galled the minister to that degree, that 
 the impression was not erased from his mind when 
 the cause of it had lost all effect. He meditated 
 therefore a severe revenge on the stage, and de- 
 termined to prevent any attacks of the like kind for 
 the future. In the execution of this plan he stea- 
 dily persisted ; and at last had the sausfaction of 
 seeing the enemy, which had given him so much 
 uneasiness, effectually restrained from any power 
 of annoying him on the public theatres. An act 
 of parliament passed in the year 1737, which for- 
 bad the representation of any performance not pre- 
 viously licenced by the Lord Chamberlain, or in 
 any place, except the city of Westminster and the 
 liberties thereof, or where the royal family should 
 at any time reside. It also took from the crown 
 the power of licensing any more theatres, and in- 
 flicted heavy penalties on those who should here- 
 after perform in defiance of the regulations in the 
 statute. This unpopular act did not pass without 
 opposition. It called forth the eloquence of Lord 
 Chesterfield in a speech, wherein all the arguments 
 in favour of this obnoxious law were answered, the 
 dangers which might ensue from it were pointed 
 out, and the little necessity for such hostilities 
 VOL. i. k
 
 SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 against the stage clearly demonstrated. It also 
 excited an alarm in the people at large, as tending 
 to introduce restraints on the liberty of the press. 
 Many pamphlets were published against the prin- 
 ciple of the act ; and it was combated in every 
 shape which wit, ridicule, or argument, could op- 
 pose it in. All these, however, availed nothing; 
 the minister had resolved, and the parliament was 
 too compliant to slight a bill which came recom- 
 mended to it from so powerful a quarter. It there- 
 fore passed into a law, and freed the then, and all 
 future ministers, from any apprehensions of mis- 
 chief from the wit or malice of dramatic writers. 
 
 The year 1740, was rendered remarkable in the 
 theatrical world by the appearance of an actor, 
 whose genius seemed intended to adorn, and 
 whose abilities were destined to support the stage. 
 This was the late Mr. Garrick, who, after experi- 
 encing some slights from the managers of Drury- 
 Lane and Coveut-Garden, determined to make 
 trial of his theatrical qualifications at the playhouse 
 in Goodman's Fields, under the direction of Mr. 
 Giffard, who was at that time permitted to perform 
 there without molestation. The part he chose for 
 his first appearance was that of Richard the Third, 
 in which he displayed so clear a conception of the 
 character, such power of execution, and a union of 
 talents so varied, extensive, and unexpected, as 
 soon fixed his reputation as the first actor of his
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. cxxxi 
 
 own or any former times. His fame spread 
 through every part of the town with the greatest 
 rapidity; and Goodman's Fields theatre, which had 
 been confined to the inhabitants of the city, be- 
 came the resort of the polite, and was honoured 
 with the notice of all ranks and orders of people. 
 
 At Goodman's Fields, Mr. Garrick remained 
 but one season ; after which he removed to Drury- 
 lane., where he continued to increase his reputation, 
 and, by a prudent attention to the dictates of fru- 
 gality and discretion, acquired a character which 
 pointed him out as a proper person to succeed to 
 the management of the theatre a few years after, 
 and a fortune which enabled him to accomplish 
 that point when the opportunity offered. 
 
 The affairs of Drury-lane theatre suffered all the 
 mischiefs which could arise from the imprudence or 
 inability of the manager. That gentleman had em- 
 barrassed his domestic concerns by almost every 
 species of misconduct, and involved himself in such 
 difficulties, that there remained no other means of 
 extricating himself from them than by abandoning 1 
 his country, and retiring abroad. About the year 
 1745, the whole of his property in the theatre was 
 either mortgaged or sold ; and the patent, which 
 had been assigned to some creditors, was adver- 
 tised to be disposed of by public auction. Two 
 Bankers soon afterwards became the purchasers, 
 and they received into the management the late Mr.
 
 CXXXli SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 Lacey, to whom the conduct of the theatre was 
 relinquished. The calamities of the times affected 
 the credit of many persons at this juncture ; and 
 amongst the rest of the new managers, who found 
 themselves obliged to stop payment. Their mis- 
 fortunes occasioned t&e patent again to become 
 the object of a sale It was offered to several 
 persons, but few appeared to have courage enough 
 to venture upon it. At length it was proposed by 
 Mr. Lacey, that he and Mr. Garrick should be- 
 come joint-purchasers. The offer was accepted. 
 A renewal of the patent was solicited and obtained. 
 All the preliminaries were in a short time settled, 
 and, in the year 1747> the house was opened with 
 a Prologue written by Dr. Johnson, and spoken 
 by Mr. Garrick. 
 
 From this period may be dated the flourishing 
 state of the theatre. The new partners were fur- 
 nished with abilities to make their purchase advan- 
 tageous to themselves, and useful to the public. 
 Mr. Garrick's admirable performances insured them 
 great audiences ; and (he industry and attention of 
 Mr. Lacey were employed in rendering the house 
 convenient to the frequenters of it. They both 
 exerted their endeavours to acquire the favour of 
 the town ; and the preference which was given to 
 them over their rivals at the other theatre suffi- 
 ciently proved the superior estimation they were 
 held in. The harmony which subsisted between
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. cxxxiii 
 
 them contributed to the success of their under- 
 taking, and their efforts in the end procured them 
 both riches and respect. 
 
 The month of December, 1761, was marked 
 with the death of Mr. Rich, who had been ma- 
 nager under the patents granted by Charles the 
 Second almost fifty years. His peculiar excel- 
 lence in the composition of those performances 
 which demanded shew and expence enabled him, 
 with an indifferent company of actors, to make a 
 stand against the greatest performers of his time : 
 he was unrivalled in the representation of his fa- 
 vourite character Harlequin, and possessed with 
 many foibles some qualities which commanded the 
 esteem of his friends and acquaintance. On his 
 decease, the business of Covent-Garden theatre 
 was conducted ,by his son-in-law Mr. Beard. 
 
 In the year 1763, Mr. Garrick, by the advice of 
 his physicians, went abroad, in order to relax from 
 the fatigues of his profession, and to re-establish his 
 health, which had been much broken by an uninter- 
 rupted exertion of his abilities on the stage. He 
 was absent two seasons, and then returned to the 
 theatre, where he remained until the year 1776. 
 
 The theatre in the Hay-market had for some 
 years been occupied in the summer time by virtue 
 of licences from the Lord Chamberlain. In the 
 month of July, 1766, it was advanced to the dig- 
 nity of a theatre royal ; a patent being then made
 
 CXXXIV SUPPLEMENT" 
 
 out to Mr. Foote, authorizing him to build a thea- 
 tre in the city and liberties of Westminster, and to 
 exhibit dramatic performances, &c. therein, from 
 the 14th day of May to the 14th of September, 
 during his life. On this grant being passed, the 
 patentee purchased the old playhouse, which had 
 been built in 1720, and immediately pulled it 
 down. It was rebuilt in the course of the next 
 year, and opened in the month of May, 1767- Mr. 
 Foote very successfully managed this theatre until 
 the season before his death. 
 
 From the decease of Mr. Rich, Covent-Garden 
 theatre had been intrusted to the direction of his 
 son-in-law Mr. Beard, who introduced several 
 musical pieces to the stage, which were received 
 with applause, and brought considerable profits to 
 those concerned in the house. The taste of the 
 public inclined very much to this species of per- 
 formance for several seasons ; but about the year 
 1766 the audiences beginning to lessen, and the 
 acting manager finding no relief for a deafness 
 which he had long been afflicted with, he became 
 desirous of retiring from the bustle of a theatre to 
 the quiet of private life. In the summer of 1767* 
 a negociation was set on foot by Messieurs Harris 
 and Rutherford, for the purchase of all the property 
 in the play-house which belonged to the then pro- 
 prietors ; but the advantage of having a capital 
 performer as one of the sharers being suggested,
 
 MR. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. cxxxv 
 
 Mr. Powell was invited to join with them, and he 
 recommended Mr. Colman as a person from whom 
 the undertaking would receive great advantage. 
 The proposal being assented to by the several 
 parties, the property of the theatre was assigned in 
 August, 1767; the conduct of the stage was in- 
 trusted to Mr. Colman, and the house opened on 
 the 14th of September with the Comedy of the 
 Rehearsal; and a Prologue written by Paul White- 
 head, and spoken by Mr. Powell. 
 
 The disputes which soon afterwards arose 
 amongst the new managers are unworthy of any 
 notice, on account of the virulence and acrimony 
 with which each party seems to have been inflamed ; 
 it is sufficient to observe, that after they had con- 
 tinued a long time, and had received a judicial de- 
 termination, they were amicably ended. 
 
 Mr. Rutherford sold his share to Messieurs 
 Leake and Dagge. Mr. Powell died in July, 
 17G9 ; and his widow afterwards married Dr. 
 Fisher, who by that means became entitled to 
 some part of her late husband's interest in the 
 theatre. Mr. Colman managed the affairs of the 
 stage until the year 1774, when his right was pur- 
 chased by the rest of his partners, to whom it was 
 immediately assigned. 
 
 In 1776, an event took place, which the ad- 
 mirers of theatrical entertainments had long ex- 
 pected with concern, and now viewed with regret.
 
 CXXXV1 . SUPPLEMENT TO 
 
 Mr. Garrick, at a period when his powers had 
 suffered little injury from time, and in the height 
 of his fame and popularity, determined to relin- 
 quish all connection with the stage, and retire to 
 the honourable enjoyment of a large fortune, ac- 
 quired in the course of near forty years spent in 
 the service of the public. His last appearance 
 was in the character of Don Felix in the Play of 
 the Wonder, acted on the 10th day of June, for 
 a charitable benefit. He was honoured with a 
 brilliant and crowded audience, and was dismissed 
 with the loudest applauses ever heard in a theatre. 
 The obligations which the public are under to 
 him for the decency and propriety of our present 
 dramatic performances, will ever intitle him to the 
 grateful respect of the world, independent of his 
 extraordinary merit either as an actor or as an 
 author. v. 
 
 As this is the period at which the present im- 
 perfect account of the English theatre is intended 
 to be closed, some apology may be expected for 
 the defects of it. A more copious and particular 
 detail would not have been consistent with the 
 plan of this work ; and the materials for a history- 
 executed with such minuteness as the subject de- 
 serves are too much scattered, and too difficult to 
 be obtained, to be readily brought together. Many 
 circumstances and much information might be pro- 
 cured from those who have access to the interior
 
 MR. DODSLEY S PREFACE. CXXXvil 
 
 of the present playhouses ; the neglected pamphlets 
 of former times would afford a great fund of intel- 
 ligence ; and the remembrance of many individuals 
 would furnish particulars of considerable value to 
 any person who had leisure and abilities for such 
 an undertaking. The History of the Drama seems in- 
 titled to more regard than hath been bestowed upon 
 it. To excite the attention of those who are best 
 qualified for such a work, hath been the chief end 
 of the present slight view of the English theatres, 
 which can only be entitled to pardon, as it may 
 probably at some future time be the means of pro- 
 ducing a performance with fewer imperfections and 
 more worthy of public notice. 
 
 March 31, 1780.
 
 HISTORIA HISTRIONICA: 
 
 AN 
 
 HISTORICAL ACCOUNT 
 
 OF 
 
 THE ENGLISH STAGE; 
 
 THE AVCIENT USE, IMPROVEMENT, AND PERFECTION OF 
 DRAMATIC REPRESENTATIONS IN THIS NATION, 
 
 IN 
 
 A DIALOGUE OF PLAYS AND PLAYERS. 
 
 -Olim meminisse juvabit. 
 
 LONDON; 
 
 PRINTED BY G. GROOM, FOR WILLIAM HAAVES, 
 AT THE ROSE IN LUDGATE-STREET. 
 
 1699.
 
 THIS tract was originally printed in 1699. It is said 
 
 to have been the production of James Wright of New 
 
 Inn, afterwards of the Middle Temple, Barrister at Law. 
 
 He was the author of The Antiquities of Rutlandshire, 
 
 and some poems; particularly, (1.) " An Essay on the 
 
 " present Ruins of St. Paul's Cathedral." To which 
 
 is annexed, " The Misfortunes of St. Paul's Cathe- 
 
 " dral," in heroic verse, 4to. 1668; re-printed with 
 
 two other poems under the title of, (2.) " Three poems 
 
 " of St. Paul's Cathedral; viz. The Ruins, The Re- 
 
 " building-, The Choire*, Fo. 1697." and (3.) " Phoe- 
 
 " nix Paulina, a Poem on St. Paul's Cathedral, 4to. 
 
 " 1709f." He was alive in 1710, being mentioned by 
 
 Mr. Hearne in his preface to Leland's Itinerary, in this 
 
 manner; " I could have supply'd more Lacunae, and 
 
 ' in all likelyhood have reuder'd this performance more 
 
 ' perfect, if I had had the use of a very good tran- 
 
 ' script of Mr. Leland's Itinerary, taken about the time 
 
 ' of Queen Elizabeth (before the originals took wet, as 
 
 ' is suppos'd) and was formerly in possession of James 
 
 Wright, of the Middle Temple, Esq. the worthy 
 
 ' author of the Antiquities of Rutlandshire; but this, 
 
 ' with a multitude of other valuable curiosities, was 
 
 ' unhappily burnt in the fire at the Middle Temple, in 
 
 ' the year 1698, as Mr. Wright has been pleased to 
 
 ' inform me." Anthony Wood says, he wrote an elegy 
 
 on the death of Mr. John Goad, Master of Merchant 
 
 Taylor's School, who died 1689. (See Wood's A thense, 
 
 vol. 1. p. 839.) 
 
 * British Topography, vol. 1. p. 610. 
 t Catalogue of pamphlets in the Harleian Library, p. 146.
 
 THE PREFACE.* 
 
 MUCH has been writ of late pro and con about 
 the stage, yet the subject admits of more, and that 
 which has not been hitherto touched upon ; not 
 only what that is, but what it was, about which 
 some people have made such a bustle. What it 
 is we see, and I think it has been sufficiently dis- 
 play'd in Mr. Collier's book ; what it was in former 
 ages and how used in this kingdom, so far back 
 as one may collect any memorials, is the subject of 
 the following dialogue. Old plays will be always 
 read by the curious, if it were only to discover the 
 manners and behaviour of several ages and how 
 they altered. For plays are exactly like portraits, 
 drawn in the garb and fashion of the time when 
 painted. You see one habit in the time of Charles 
 I. another quite different from that, both for men 
 and women, in Queen Elizabeth's time ; another 
 
 * This preface is now for the first time inserted, Mr. 
 Reed having omitted it probably because his copy was not 
 perfect. It is reprinted from the first edition in 1699, 
 which the former editor had not been able to procure. C.
 
 cxlii 
 
 under Henry the Eighth different from both, and 
 so backward all various. And in the several fashions 
 of behaviour and conversation there is as much 
 mutability as in that of clothes. Religion and re- 
 ligious matters was once as much the mode in 
 public entertainments, as the contrary has been in 
 some times since. This appears in the different 
 plays of several ages : and to evince this the fol- 
 lowing sheets are an essay or specimen. 
 
 Some may think the subject of this discourse 
 trivial, and the persons herein mentioned not worth 
 remembering. But besides that I could name some 
 things contested of late with great heat, of as little 
 or less consequence, the reader may know that the 
 profession of players is not so totally scandalous, 
 nor all of them so reprobate, but that there has been 
 found under that name a canonized saint in the pri- 
 mitive church ; as may be seen in the Roman Mar- 
 tyrology on the 29th March : his name Masculas, a 
 master of interludes (the Latin is Archimimus, and 
 the French translation tin Maitre comedien) who 
 under the persecution of the Vandals in .Africa, by 
 Geisericus the Arian King, having, endured many 
 and grievous torments and reproaches for the con- 
 fession of the truth, finished the course of this glo- 
 rious combat, saith the said Martyrology. 
 
 It appears from this and some further instances 
 in the following discourse, that there have been
 
 cxliii 
 
 players of worthy principles as to religion, loyalty 
 and other virtues ; and if the major part of them 
 fall under a different character, it is the general 
 unhappiness of mankind, that the most are the 
 worst.
 
 A DIALOGUE, &c. 
 
 LOVEWIT, TRUEMAN. 
 
 Lovewit. HONEST old Cavalier! well met, 'faith I'm 
 glad to see thee. 
 
 Trueman. Have a care what you call me ; old is a 
 word of disgrace among the ladies ; to be honest is to 
 be poor, and foolish, (as some think ;) and Cavalier is 
 a word as much out of fashion as any of 'em. 
 
 LovewU. The more's the pity : but what said the for- 
 tune-teller in Ben Jonson's mask of Gypsies, to the 
 then Lord Privy Seal ! 
 
 Honest and old ! 
 In those the good part of a fortune is told. 
 
 Trueman. Bon Jonson ! how dare you name Ben 
 Jonson in these times; when we have such a crowd of 
 poets of a quite different genius; the least of which 
 thinks himself as well able to correct Ben Jonson, as 
 he could a country school-mistress that taught to 
 spell ? 
 
 Lovewit. We have, indeed, poets of a different ge- 
 nius ; so are the plays : but, in my opinion, they are 
 all of 'em (some few excepted) as much inferior to 
 those of former times, as the actors now in being (gene- 
 rally speaking) are, compared to Hart, Mohun, Burt, 
 Lacy, Clun, and Shatterel; for I can reach no farther 
 backward. 
 
 Trueman. I can ; and dare assure you, if my fancy 
 and memory are not partial (for men of my age 
 are apt to be over indulgent to the thoughts of their 
 youthful days) I say the actors that I have seen before 
 the wars, Lowin, Taylor, Pollard, and some others, 
 
 VOL. i. 1
 
 A DPALOGUE, & C . 
 
 1 were almost as far beyond Hart and his company, as 
 those were beyond these now in being. 
 
 Lovcwit. I am willing to believe it, but cannot rea- 
 dily ; because I have been told, that those whom I 
 mention'd, were bred up under the others of your ac- 
 quaintance, and follow'd their manner of action, which 
 is now lost : so far, that when the question has been 
 ask'd, Why these players do not revive the Silent Wo- 
 man, and some otherof Jonson's plays (once of highest 
 esteem) they have answered, Truly, because there are 
 none now living who can rightly humour those parts ; 
 for all who related to the Black-friers, (where they were 
 acted in perfection) are now dead and almost for- 
 gotten. 
 
 Trueman. "Tis very true, Hart and Clun were bred 
 up boys at the Black-friers, and acted women's parts; 
 Hart was Robinson's boy, or apprentice ; he acted the 
 Duchess, in the Tragedy of the Cardinal, which was 
 the first part that gave him reputation. Cartwright and 
 Wintershal belong'd to the Private House in Salisbury- 
 court; Burt was a boy, first under Shank at the Black- 
 friers, then under Beeston at the Cock-pit; and Mohun 
 and Shatterel were in the same condition with him, at 
 the last place. There Burt used to play the principal 
 women's parts, in particular Clariana, in Love's Cuelty: 
 and at the same time Mohun acted Bellamente, which 
 part he retained after the restoration. 
 
 Lovewit. That I have seen, and can well remember. 
 I wish they had printed in the last age (so I call the 
 times before the rebellion) the actors' names over 
 against the parts they acted, as they have done since 
 the restoration ; and thus one might have guess'd at 
 the action of the men, by the parts which we now read 
 in the old plays. 
 
 Trueman. It was not the custom and usage of those 
 ' days, as it hath been since. Yet some few old plays 
 there are that have the names set against the parts, as, 
 The Dutchess of Malfy; the Picture; the Roman 
 Actor; the Deserving Favourite; the Wild-Goose- 
 Chase, (at the Black-friers) ; the Wedding; the Rene-
 
 A DIALOGUE. & c . Cxlvii 
 
 gado: the Fair Maid of the West; Hannibal and Scipio; 
 King John and Matilda, (at the Cock-pit) ; and Hol- 
 land's Leaguer, (at Salisbury Court). 
 
 Lovewit. These are but few indeed : but pray, sir, 
 what master-parts can you remember the old Black- 
 frier's men to act in Jonson, Shakspeare, and Fletcher's 
 plays? 
 
 Trueman. What I can at present recollect I'll tell 
 you ; Shakspeare, (who, as I have heard, was a much 
 better poet than player) Burbage, Hemmings, and others 
 of the older sort, were dead before I knew the town : 
 but in my time, before the wars, Lowiri used to act, with 
 mighty applause, Falstaffe, Morose, Volpone, and 
 Mammon, in the Alchymist; Melantius, in the Maid's 
 Tragedy ; and at the same time Amyntor was play'd 
 by Stephen Hammerton, (who was at first a most noted 
 and beautiful woman actor, but afterwards he acted, 
 with equal grace and applause, a young lover's part) ; 
 Taylor acted Hamlet incomparably well, Jago, Truewit 
 in the Silent Woman, and Face in the Alchymist; 
 Swanston us'd to play Othello ; Poliard and Robinson 
 \vere comedians; so was Shank, who us'd to act Sir 
 Roger, in the Scornful Lady: these were of the Black- 
 friers. Those of principal note at the Cock-pit, were, 
 Perkins, Michael Bowyer, Sumner, William Allen, and 
 Bird, eminent actors, and Robins, a comedian. Of the 
 other companies I took little notice. 
 
 Lovewit. Were there so many companies? 
 
 Trueman. Before the wars there were in being all 
 these play-houses at the same time. The Black-friers, 
 and Globe on the Bank-side, a winter and summer 
 house, belonging to the same company, called the 
 King's Servants ; the Cock-pit or Phoenix, in Drury- 
 lane, called the Queen's Servants; the Private House 
 in Salisbury-court, called the Prince's Servants ; the 
 Fortune near Whitecross Street 1 ; and the Red Bull, 
 
 1 The Fortune near Whitecross Street.] This is afterwards said to 
 be a large round brick building. Mr. Steevens supposes, from the 
 extent of it, that all the actors resided within its precincts. It was 
 pulled down about the time of the restoration, soon after the ap-
 
 Cxlviii A DIALOGUE, & C . 
 
 at the upper end of St. John's Street: the two last 
 were mostly frequented by citizens, and the meaner sort 
 of people. All these companies got money, and liv*d 
 in reputation, especially those of the Black-friers, who 
 were men of grave and sober behaviour. 
 
 Lovewit. Which I admire at; that the town, much 
 less than at present, could then maintain five compa- 
 nies, and yet now two can hardly subsist. 
 
 Trueman. Do not wonder, but consider, that tho'the 
 town was then, perhaps, not much more than half so 
 populous as now, yet then the prices were small (there 
 being no scenes) and better order kept among the com- 
 pany that came; which made very good people think 
 a play an innocent diversion for an idle hour or two, 
 the plays themselves being then, for the most part, 
 more instructive and moral. Whereas, of late, the play- 
 houses are so extremely pestered with vizard-masks and 
 their trade, (occasioning continual quarrels and abuses) 
 that many of the more civiliz'd part of the town are un- 
 easy in the company, and shun the Theatre as they 
 would a house of scandal. It is an argument of the 
 worth of the plays and actors of the last age, and easily 
 inferred, that they were much beyond ours in this, to 
 consider that they could support themselves merely 
 from their own merit, the weight of the matter, and 
 goodness of the action, without scenes and machines ; 
 whereas the present plays with all that shew can hardly 
 draw an audience, unless there be the additional invi- 
 
 pearance of the following advertisement, in the Mercurins Politicus 
 Tuesday, Feb. 14, to Tuesday, Feb. 21. 1661. " The Fortune 
 ' Playhouse, situate between Whitecross Street and Golding 
 ' Square, in the parish of St. Giles, Cripplegate, with the ground 
 ' thereunto belonging, is to be let to be built upon ; where 23 te- 
 ' nements may be erected, with gardens ; and a street may be cut 
 ' through for the better accommodation of the buildings." (See 
 edition of Shakspeare, 1778, vol. 1. p. 267.) From the following 
 passage of The English Traveller, by Hey wood, 1633, Sign. I 3. we 
 find there was a picture or Statue of Fortune before the building. 
 
 " I'le rather stand heere 
 
 " Like a Slatue in the Forefront of your house 
 " For ever ; Like the picture of Dame Fortune 
 " Before the Fortune Playhouse."
 
 A DIALOGUE, & c . 
 
 tation of a Signior Fideli, a Monsieur 1'Abbe, or some 
 such foreign regale express'd in the bottom of the bill. 
 Lovewit. To wave this digression, I have read of one 
 Edward Alleyn, a man, so famed for excellent action, 
 that among Ben Jonson's epigrams, I find one directed 
 to him, full of encomium, and concluding thus: 
 
 Wear this renown, 'tis just that who did give 
 So many poets life, by one should live. 
 
 Was he one of the Black-friers ? 
 
 Trueman. Never, as 1 have heard ; (for he was dead 
 before my time). He was master of a company of his 
 own, for whom he built the Fortune play-house from 
 the ground, a large, round, brick building. This is he 
 that grew so rich, that he purchased a great estate in 
 Surry and elsewhere; and having no issue, he built and 
 largely endowed Dulwich college, in the year 1619 2 , for 
 a master, a warden, four fellows, twelve aged poor 
 people, and twelve poor boys, &c. A noble charity. 
 
 Lovewit. What kind of play-houses had they before 
 the wars? 
 
 Trueman. The Black-friers, Cock-pit, and Salis- 
 bury-court, were called private houses, and were very 
 small to what we see now. The Cock-pit was stand- 
 ing since the restoration, and Rhodes's company acted 
 there for some time. 
 
 Lovewit. I have seen that. 
 
 Trueman. Then you have seen the other two, in ef- 
 fect ; for they were all three built almost exactly alike, 
 for form and bigness. Here they had pits for the gentry, 
 and acted by candle-light. The Globe, Fortune, and 
 Bull, were large houses, and lay partly open to the wea- 
 ther, and there they always acted by day-light. 
 
 Lovewit. But, pr'ythee, Trueman, what became of 
 these players when the stage was put down, and the 
 rebellion rais'd ? 
 
 Trueman. Most of 'em, except Lowin, Taylor and 
 Pollard (who were superannuated) went into the king's 
 
 sTLe letters patent under the great seal, bear date the 21st June, 
 1619.
 
 Cl A DIALOGUE, &c. 
 
 army, and, like good men and true, serv'd their old 
 master, tho' in a different, yet more honourable capa- 
 city. Robinson was kill'd at the taking of a place, (I 
 think Basing-house) by Harrison, he that was after 
 hang'd at Charing-cross, who refused him quarter, and 
 shot him in the head when he had laid down his arms ; 
 abusing scripture at the same time, in saying, Cursed is 
 he that doth the work of the Lord negligently. Mohun 
 was a captain (and after the wars were ended here, 
 served in Flanders, where he received pay as a major.) 
 Hart was a lieutenant of horse under sir Thomas Dalli- 
 son,in prince Rupert's regiment; Bui t was cornet in the 
 same troop, and Shatterel quarter-master; Allen of 
 the Cock-pit was a major, and quarter-master-general 
 at Oxford. 1 have not heard of one of these players of 
 any note that sided with the other party, but only 
 Swanston, and he profess'd himself a presbyterian, took 
 up the trade of a jeweller, and liv'd in Aldermanbury, 
 within the territory of father Calamy ; the rest either 
 lost, or expos'd their lives for their king. When the 
 wars were over, and the royalists totally subdu'd, most 
 of 'em who were left alive gather'd to London, and for 
 a subsistence endeavour'd to revive their old trade 
 privately. They made up one company out of all the 
 scatter'd members of several ; and in the winter before 
 the king's murder, 1648, they ventured to act some 
 plays, with as much caution and privacy as could be, 
 at the Cock-pit. They continued undisturbed for three 
 or four days ; but at last, as they v/ere presenting the 
 tragedy of the Bloody Brother (in which Lowin acted 
 Aubrey; Taylor, Rollo; Pollard, the Cook: Burt, 
 Latorch ; and I think Hart, Otto) a party of foot sol- 
 diers beset the house, surprized 'em about the middle 
 of the play 3 , and carried 'em away in their habits, not 
 
 8 This is confirmed by Kirkman ; who, iu his Preface to The 
 Wits, or Sport upon Sport, 1672, says, the small compositions of 
 which his work was made up, being scenes and parts of plays, 
 were at this period " liked and approved by all, and they were the 
 " fittest for the actors to represent, there being little cost in cloaths, 
 ' ' which often were in great danger to be seized by the then sol-
 
 A DIALOGUE, &C. clt 
 
 admitting them to shift, to Hatton-house, then a prison, 
 where, having detain'd them some time, they plundered 
 them of their clothes, and let 'em loose again. After- 
 wards, in Oliver's time, they used to act privately, three 
 or four miles or more out of town, now here, now there, 
 sometimes in noblemen's houses, in particular, Holland- 
 house at Kensington, where the nobility and gentry 
 who met (but in no great numbers) used to make a sum 
 for them, each giving a broad piece, or the like. And 
 Alexander Goffe, the woman actor at Black-friers (who 
 had made himself known to persons of quality) used to 
 be the jackall, and give notice of time and place. At 
 Christmas and Bartholomew-fair, they used to bribe the 
 officer who commanded the guard at Whitehall, and 
 were thereupon connived at to act for a few days, at the 
 Red Bull 4 ; but were sometimes, notwithstanding, dis- 
 turb'd by soldiers. Some pick'd up a little money by 
 
 " diers ; who, as the poet saves, Enter the Red Coat, Exit Hat an'l 
 '.' Cloak, was very true, not only in the audience but the actors too, 
 ' who were commonly not only stripp'd, but many times impri- 
 ' soned till they paid such ransom as the souldiers would impose 
 ' upon them : so that it was hazardous to act any thing that re- 
 ' quired any good cloaths : instead of which, painted cloath many 
 ' times served the turn to represent rich habits." 
 
 4 " When the publique Theatres were shut up, and the actors 
 " forbidden to present us with any of their tragedies, because we 
 " had enough of that in earnest ; and comedies, because the vices 
 " of the age were too lively and smartly represented ; then all that 
 " we could divert ourselves with, were these humours and pieces 
 " of plays, which, passing under the name of a merry conceited 
 " fellow, called Bottom the Weaver, Simpleton the Smith ; John 
 " Swabber, or some such title, were only allowed us, and that but 
 " by stealth too, and under pretence of rope-dancing, or the like ; 
 " and these being all that was permitted us, great was the con- 
 ' fluence of the auditors ; and these small things were as profitable 
 ' and as great get-pennies to the actors as any of our late famed 
 ' plays. 1 have seen the Tied Bull Playhouse, which was a large one, 
 ' so full, that as many went back for want of room as had entered ; 
 ' and as meanly as you may now think of these drols, they were 
 ' then acted by the best comedians then and now in being ; and I 
 ' may say by some that then exceeded all now living, by name, 
 ' the incomparable Robert Cox, who was not only the principal 
 ' actor, but also the contriver and author of most of these farces." 
 Kirkman's Preface to The Wits, or Sport upon Sport, 1672.
 
 Clll . A DIALOGUE, &c. 
 
 publishing the copies of plays never before printed, but 
 kept up in manuscript. For instance, in the year 1652, 
 Beaumont and Fletcher's Wild-Goose-Chace was printed 
 in folio, for the public use of all the ingenious, as the 
 title-page says, and private benefit of John Lowin and 
 Joseph Taylor, servants to his late majesty ; and by 
 them dedicated to the honoured few lovers of dramatic 
 poesy : wherein they modestly intimate their wants, 
 and that with sufficient cause ; for whatever they were 
 before the wars, they were after reduced to a necessitous 
 condition. Lowin, in his latter days, kept an inn, the 
 Three Pigeons, at Brentford, where he died very old, 
 for hewas an actor of eminentnote in the reign of King 
 James I. and his poverty was as great as his age. 
 Taylor died at Richmond, and was there buried. Pol- 
 lard, who lived single, and had a competent estate, re- 
 tired to some relations he had in the country, and there 
 ended his life. Perkins and Sumner of the Cock-pit, 
 kept house together at Clerkeuwell, and were there 
 buried. These all died some years before the restora- 
 tion ; what followed after, I need not tell you; you can 
 easily remember. 
 
 Lovewit. Yes ; presently after the restoration, the 
 king's players acted publicly at the Red Bull for some 
 time, and then removed to a new-built playhouse in 
 Vere-street, by Clare-market. There they continued 
 for a year or two, and then removed to the Theatre 
 Royal in Drury-lane, where they first made use of 
 scenes, which had been a little before introduced upon 
 the public stage by Sir William Davenant, at the 
 duke's Old Theatre in Lincoln's-inn-fields, but after- 
 wards very much improved, with the addition of curious 
 machines, by Mr. Betterton, at the New Theatre in 
 Dorset-garden, to the great expence and continual 
 charge of the players. This much impaired their profit 
 o'er what it was before; for I have been inform'd by 
 one of 'em, that for several years next after the restora- 
 tion, every whole sharer in Mr. Hart's company, got 
 1000L per ann. About the same time that scenes first 
 entered upon the stage at London, women were taught
 
 A DIALOGUE, &c. cliii 
 
 to act their own parts; since when, we have seen at 
 both houses several actresses, justly famed, as well for 
 beauty, as perfect good action. And some plays, in 
 particular the Parson's Wedding-, have been presented 
 all by women, as formerly all by men. Thus it conti- 
 nued for about 20 years, when Mr. Hart, and some of 
 the old men, began to grow weary, and were minded 
 to leave off; then the two companies thought fit to 
 unite; but of late you see, they have thought it no less 
 fit to divide again, though both companies keep the 
 same name of his majesty's servants. All this while 
 the playhouse musick improved yearly, and is now 
 arrived to greater perfection than ever I knew it. Yet 
 for all these advantages, the reputation of the stage, 
 and people's affection to it, are much decayed. Some 
 were lately severe against it, and would hardly allow 
 stage-plays fit to be longer permitted. Have you seen 
 Mr. Collier's book? 
 
 Trueman. Yes, and his opposers'. 
 
 Lovewit. And what think you? 
 
 Trueman. In my mind, Mr. Collier's reflections are 
 pertinent, and true in the main ; the book ingeniously 
 wrote, and well intended ; but he has overshot himself 
 in some places, and his respondents perhaps in more. 
 My affection inclines me not to engage on either 
 side, but rather mediate. If there be abuses relating 
 to the stage, which I think is too apparent, let the 
 abuse be reformed, and not the use, for that reason 
 only, abolished. Twas an old saying, when I was a 
 boy, 
 
 Absit abusus, non desit totaliter usus. 
 
 I shall not run through Mr. Collier's book ; I will only 
 touch a little on two or three general notions, in which, 
 I think, he may be mistaken. What he urges out of 
 the primitive councils and fathers of the church, seems 
 to me to be directed against the heathen plays, which 
 were a sort of religious worship with them, to the honour 
 of Ceres, Flora, or some of their false deities. They 
 had always a little altar on their stages, as appears
 
 cllV A DIALOGUE, &C. 
 
 plain enough from some places in Plautus. And Mr. 
 Collier himself, p. 235, tells us out of Livy, that plays 
 were brought in upon the score of religion, to pacify 
 the gods. No wonder then, they forbid Christians to 
 be present at them, for it was almost the same as to be 
 present at their sacrifices. We must also observe, that 
 this was in the infancy of Christianity, when the church 
 was under severe, and almost continual persecutions, 
 and when all its true members were of most strict and 
 exemplary lives, not knowing when they should be 
 called to the stake, or thrown to wild beasts. They 
 communicated daily, and expected death hourly; as 
 their thoughts were intent upon the next world, they 
 abstain'd almost wholly from all diversions and plea- 
 sures (though lawful and innocent) in this. After- 
 wards, when persecution ceased, and the church flou- 
 rish'd, Christians being then freed from their former 
 terrors, allow'd themselves, at proper times, the lawful 
 recreations of conversation, and among other, no doubt, 
 this of shews and representations. After this time, the 
 censures of the church indeed might be continued, or 
 revived upon occasion, against plays and players ; tho', 
 in my opinion, it cannot be understood generally, but 
 only against such players who were of vicious and licen- 
 tious lives, and represented profane subjects, incon- 
 sistent with the morals and probity of manners requisite 
 to Christians ; and frequented chiefly by such loose and 
 debauch'd people, as were much more apt to corrupt 
 than divert those who associated with them. I say, I 
 cannot think the canons and censures of the fathers 
 can be applied to all players, quatenus players; for if 
 so, how could plays be continued among the Christians, 
 as they were, of divine subjects, and scriptural stories? 
 A late French author, speaking of the Hotel de Bour- 
 gogne, a play-house in Paris, says, that the ancient 
 dukes of that name gave it to the brotherhood of the 
 Passion, established in the church of Trinity-hospital, 
 in the Rue S. Denis, on condition that they should 
 represent here interludes of devotion; and adds, that 
 there have been public shews in this place six hundred *
 
 A DIALOGUE, &c. Civ 
 
 years ago. The Spanish and Portuguese continue still 
 to have, for the most part, such ecclesiastical stories for 
 the subject of their plays: and, if we may believe Gage, 
 they are acted in their churches in Mexico, and the 
 Spanish West-Indies. 
 
 Lovewit. That's a great way off, Trueman; I had 
 rather you would come nearer home, and confine your 
 discourse to Old England. 
 
 Trueman. So I intend. The same has been done 
 here in England ; for otherwise how comes it to be pro- 
 hibited in the 88th canon, among those p< ss'd in con- 
 vocation, 1603? Certain it is, that our ancient plays 
 were of religious subjects, and had for their actors, if not 
 priests, yet men relating to the church. 
 
 Lovewit. How does that appear ? 
 
 Trueman. Nothing clearer. Stow, in his survey of 
 London, has one chapter of the sports and pastimes of 
 old time used in this city ; and there he tells us, that in 
 the year 1391, which was 15 Richard II. a stage-play 
 was play'd by the parish-clerks of London, at the 
 Skinner's-well beside Smithfield, which play continued 
 three days together, the king, queen, and nobles of the 
 realm being present. And another was play'd in the 
 year 1409, 1 1 Henry IV. which lasted eight days, and 
 was of matter from the creation of the world; whereat 
 were present most part of the nobility and gentry of 
 England. Sir William Dugdalc, in his antiquities of 
 Warwickshire, p. 116, speaking of the Gray-friars, or 
 Franciscans, at Coventry, says, Before the suppression 
 of the monasteries, this city was very famous for the 
 pageants that were play'd therein upon Corpus-christi 
 day; which pageants being acted with mighty state and 
 reverence by the friers of this house, had theatres for 
 the several scenes very large and high, placed upon 
 wheels, and drawn to all the eminent parts of the city, 
 for the better advantage of the spectators; and con- 
 tained the story of the New Testament, composed in old 
 English rhime. An ancient manuscript of the same is 
 now to be seen in the Cottonian library, Sub Effig. Vesp. 
 D. 8. Since the reformation, in queen Elizabeth's
 
 ClVl .. A DIALOGUE, &c. 
 
 time, plays were frequently acted by quiristers and 
 singing-boys; and several of our old comedies have 
 printed in the title-page, " acted by the children of 
 Paul's," (not the school, but the church) others, " by 
 the children of her majesty's chapel ;" in particular, 
 Cinthia's Revels, and the Poetaster, were play'd by 
 them ; who were at that time famous for good action. 
 Among Ben Jonson's epigrams you may find an epitaph 
 on S. P. (Sal. Pavy) one of the children of Queen 
 Elizabeth's chapel: part of which runs thus, 
 
 Years he counted scarce thirteen, 
 
 When fates turn'd cruel, 
 Yet three fill' d zodiacks he had been 
 
 The stage's jewel ; 
 And did act (what now we moan) 
 
 Old man so duly, 
 As, sooth, the Parcse thought him one, 
 
 He play'd so truly. 
 
 Some of these chapel boys, when they grew men, be- 
 came actors at the Black-friers; such were Nathan. 
 Field 5 and John Underwood. Now I can hardly ima- 
 
 * Nathaniel Field, on the authority of Roberts the player, (See 
 his answer to Mr. Pope's preface to Shakspeare) has been consi- 
 dered as the author of two plays ; A Wmnan is a Weathercocke, 1612, 
 and Amends far 'Ladies, 1618. He is also supposed to be the same 
 person who assisted Massinger in The Fatal Dowry. I suspect that 
 Roberts was mistaken in these assertions, as I do not find any con- 
 temporary writer speak of Field as an author ; nor is it mentioned 
 by Langbaiue, who would have noticed it, had he known the fact. 
 It seems more probable, that the writer of these plays was Natha- 
 niel Field, M.A. Fellow of New College, Oxford, who wrote some 
 Latin verses, printed in " Oxoniensis Academizc, Parentalia, 1625," 
 and who, being of the same university with Massinger, might join 
 with him while there, in the composition of the play ascribed to 
 them. Nathaniel Field above mentioned, was celebrated in the 
 part of Bussy Dambois, first printed in 1607. On the republicatioa 
 of that play, in 1641, he is thus spoken of in the Prologue : 
 
 " Field is gone, 
 
 " Whose action first did give it name, and one 
 
 " Who came the neerest to him, is denide 
 
 " By his gray beard to shew the height and pride
 
 A DIALOGUE, &c. civil 
 
 gine that such plays and players as these, are included 
 in the severe censure of the councils and fathers; but 
 such only who are truly within the character given by 
 Didacus de Tapia, cited by Mr. Collier, p. 276, viz. 
 The infamous pipy-house ; a place of contradiction to the 
 strictness and sobriety of religion ; a place hated by God, 
 and haunted by the devil. And for such I have as great 
 an abhorrence as any man. 
 
 Lovewit. Can you guess of what antiquity the repre- 
 senting of religious matters on the stage hath been in 
 England? 
 
 Trneman. How long before the conquest I know not, 
 but that it was used in London not long a(ter, appears 
 by Fitz-stevens, an author who wrote in the reign of 
 King Henry the Second". His words are, Londonia 
 pro spectaculis theatralibus, pro ludis scenicis, ludos habet 
 sanctiores, representationes miraculorum, quae sancti 
 confessor es operati sunt, sen repreesentationes passionum 
 qitibits claruit constantia martyr um. Of this, the manu- 
 script which I latelymentioned, in the Cottonian library, 
 is a notable instance. Sir William Dugdale cites this 
 manuscript, by the title of Ludus Coven t r iae ; but in the 
 printed catalogue of that library, p. 113, it is named 
 thus, A collection of plays in old English metre ; h. e. 
 Dramata sacra, in quibus exhibentur hist or its Veteris. et 
 N. Testamenti, infroduclis quasi in scenam personis illic 
 memoratis, quas secnm invicem colloquentes pro ingeuio 
 frigit poeta. Videntur olirn coram populo, sive ad in- 
 struc.ndum, sive ad placendum, afratribus mendicantibus 
 repra-sentata. It appears by the latter end of the pro- 
 logue, that these plays or interludes were not only 
 play'd at Coventry, but in other towns and places upon 
 
 ' Of D'Ambois youth and braverie ; yet to hold 
 ' Our title still a foot, and not grow cold 
 ' By giving it o're, a third man -with his best 
 ' Of care and paines defends our interest ; 
 ' As Richard he was lik'd, nor doe wee feare, 
 ' In personating Dambois, hee'le appeare 
 ' To faint, or goe h-sse, so your free consent 
 ' As heretofore give him encouragement." 
 6 P. 7?5, 4to. Kdition 1772.
 
 Clviii . A DIALOGUE, &c. 
 
 occasion. And possibly this may be the same play 
 which Stow tells us was play'd in the reign of King 
 Henry IV. which lasted for eight days. The book seems 
 by the character and language to be at least 300 years 
 old. It begins with a general prologue, giving the ar- 
 guments of 40 pageants or gesticulations (which were 
 as so many several acts or scenes) representing all the 
 histories of both testaments, from the creation to the 
 chusing of St. Matthias to be an apostle. The stories 
 of the New Testament are more largely express'd, viz. 
 the annunciation, nativity, visitation; but more espe- 
 cially all matters relating to the passion, very particu- 
 larly, the resurrection, ascension, the choice of St. 
 Matthias. After which is also represented the assump- 
 tion, and last judgment. All these things were treated 
 of in a very homely stile, as we now think, infinitely 
 below the dignity of the subject: but it seems the 
 gout of that age was not so nice and delicate in these 
 matters; the plain and incurious judgment of our an- 
 cestors, being prepared with favour, and taking every 
 thing by the right and easiest handle: For example, in 
 the scene relating to the visitation : 
 
 Maria. But husband of oo thyng pray you most 
 
 mekeley, 
 
 I have knowing that our cosyn Elizabeth with childe is, 
 That it please yow to go to her hastyly, 
 If ought we myth comfort her, it wer to me blys. 
 
 Joseph. A Gods sake, is she with child, sche ? 
 Than will her husband Zachary be mery. 
 In Montana they dwelle,fer hence, so moty the, 
 In the city of Juda, I know it verily ; 
 It is hence, I trowe, myies two a fifty, 
 We ar like to be wery or we come at the same. 
 I wole with a good will, blessyd wyff Mary ; 
 Now go we forth then in Goddys name, &c. 
 
 A little before the Resurrection. 
 
 Nunc dormientmililes, el veniet anima Christi de inferno, 
 cum Adam et Eva, Abraham, John Baptist, et aliis.
 
 A DIALOGUE, &c. 
 
 Anima Christi. Come forth Adam, and Eve with the, 
 And all my fryndes that herein be, 
 In paradys come forth with me 
 
 In blysse for to dwelle. 
 The fcnde of hell that is yowrfoo 
 He shall he wrappyd and woundyn in woo: 
 Fro v'.o to wellh now shall ye go, 
 
 With myrth ever mor to melle. 
 
 Adam. / thank the Lord of thy grete grace 
 That now is forgiven mij gret trespace, 
 Now shall we dwellyn in blyssful place, fyc. 
 
 The last scene or pageant, which represents the day 
 of judgment, begins thus : 
 
 Michael. Surgite, All men aryse, 
 Venite ad judicium, 
 For now is set the High Justice, 
 And hath assignyd the day of dome : 
 Kepe you redyly to this grett assyse. 
 Both gret and small, all and sum, 
 And of yowr answer you now advise, 
 What you shall say when that yow com, $c. 
 
 These and such like were the plays, which in former 
 ages were presented publicly : Whether they had any 
 settled and constant houses for that purpose, does not 
 appear; I suppose not. But it is notorious that in 
 former times there was hardly ever any solemn reception 
 of princes, or noble persons, but pageants, that is, 
 stages erected in the open street, were part of the en- 
 tertainment. On which there were speeches by one or 
 more persons, in the nature of scenes ; and be sure one 
 of the speakers must be some saint of the same name 
 with the party to whom the honour is intended. For 
 instance, there is an ancient manuscript at Coventry, 
 call'd the Old LeetBook, wherein is set down in a very 
 particular manner, p. 168, the reception of Queen Mar- 
 garet, wife of Henry VI. who came to Coventry ; and, 
 I think, with her, her young son, prince Edward, on 
 the feast of the exaltation of the holy-cross, 35 Hen. VI.
 
 CIX .A DIALOGUE, & C . 
 
 1456. Many pageants and speeches were made for 
 her welcome ; out of all which, I shall observe but two 
 or three, in the old English, as it is recorded, 
 
 St. Edward. Moder of mekencs, dame Margarete, 
 
 princes most excellent, 
 
 I king Edivard wellcome you with affection cordial, 
 Testefying to your highnes mekely myn entent. 
 For the wele of the king and you herttly pray I shall, 
 And for prince Edward my gostly chylde, who I love 
 
 principal, 
 
 Praying the, John Evangelist, my help therein to be, 
 On that condition right humbly I give this ring to the. 
 
 John Evangelist. Holy Edward, crowned king, brother 
 
 in verginity, 
 
 My power plainly I will prefer thy will to amplefy. 
 Most excellent princes of wymen mortal, your bedeman 
 
 will I be. 
 
 I know your life so vertuous that God is pleased thereby. 
 The birth of you unto this reme shall cause great melody : 
 The vertuous voice of prince Edward shall dayly well 
 
 encrease, 
 St. Edward his Godfader, and I shall prey therefore 
 
 doubtlet,e. 
 
 St. Margaret. Most notabul princes of wymen earthle } 
 Dame Margarete, the chefe myrth of this empyre, 
 Ye be hertely ivelcome to this cyte. 
 To the plesure of your highnesse I wyll set my desyre ; 
 Both nature and gentlenesse doth me require, 
 Seth we be both of one name, to shew you kindnesse 
 Wherefore by my power ye shall have no dislressc. 
 
 I shall pray to the prince that is endlese 
 To socour you with solas of his high grace ; 
 He will here my petition, this is doubtlesse, 
 For I wrought all my life that his will wace. 
 Therefore, lady, when you be in any dredfull case, 
 Call on me boldly, thereof I pray you, 
 And trust inmefeythfully, I will do that may pay yofi.
 
 A DIALOGUE, &c. clxi 
 
 In the next reign, as appears in the same book, fol. 
 221, another prince Edward, son of king Edward IV. 
 came to Coventry on the 28th of April, 14 Edward IV. 
 1474, and was entertained with many pageants and 
 speeches, among which I shall observe only two; one was 
 of St. Edward again, who was then made to speak thus : 
 
 Noble prince Edv;ard, my cousin and my knight, 
 And very prince of our line com yn dissent, 
 I St. Edward have pursued for your fader's imperial 
 
 right, 
 
 Whereof he was excluded by full furious intent. 
 Unto this your chamber, as prince full excellent, 
 Ye be right welcome. Thanked be Crist of his sonde, 
 For that that icas ours is now in your fader's honde. 
 
 The other speech was from St. George, and thus 
 saith the book. 
 
 " Also upon the condite in the Croscheping 
 
 " was St. George armed, and a king's daughter kneling 
 " afore him with a lamb, and the fader and the moder 
 " being in a towre aboven beholding St. George saving 
 " their daughter from the dragon, and the condite ren- 
 " ning wine in four places, and minstralcy of organ play- 
 " ing, and St. George having this speech underwritten. 
 
 O mighty God our all succour celestiall, 
 Which this royme hast given in dower 
 To thi moder, and to me George protection perpttuall 
 ft to defend from enimysfer and nere, 
 And as this mayden defended was here 
 By thy grace from this dragon's devour, 
 So, Lord, preserve this noble prince and ever be his socour. 
 
 Lovewit. 1 perceive these holy matters consisted very 
 much of praying; but I pity poor St. Edward the con- 
 fessor, who, in the compass of a few years, was made 
 to promise his favour and assistance to two young 
 princes, of the same name indeed, but of as different 
 and opposite interests as the two poles. I know not 
 how he could perform to both. 
 
 Trueman. Alas! they were both unhappy notwith- 
 VOL. i. m
 
 clxii 
 
 A DIALOGUE, &C. 
 
 standing these fine shews and seeming caresses of 
 fortune, being both murder'd, one by the hand, the 
 other by the procurement of Richard duke of Glocester. 
 I will produce but one example more of this sort of ac- 
 tion, or representations, and that is of later time, and 
 an instance of much higher'nature than any yet men- 
 tioned ; it was at the marriage of prince Arthur, eldest 
 son of king Henry VII. to the princess Catharine of 
 Spain, ann. 1501. Her passage through London was 
 very magnificent, as I have read it described in an old 
 MS. chronicle of that time. The pageants and speeches 
 were many ; the persons represented, St. Catharine, St. 
 Ursula, a senator, noblesse, virtue, an angel, king Al- 
 phonse, Job, Boetius, &c. among others one is thus 
 
 described. " When this spech was ended, she held 
 
 " on her way tyll she came unto the standard in Chepe, 
 
 " where was ordeyned the fifth paygend made like an 
 
 ' hevyn, theryn, syttyng a personage representing 
 
 ' the fader of hevyn, beyng all formyd of gold, and 
 
 1 brennyng beffor his trone vii candyilis of wax standyng 
 
 I in vii candy Istylcis of gold, the said personage beyng en- 
 ' vironed wyth sundry hyrarchies off angelis, and sytt- 
 ' ing in a cope of most rich cloth of tyssu, garnishyd 
 ' wyth Stoon and perle in most sumptuous wyse. 
 ' Foragain which said pagend upon the sowthsydeqfthe 
 ' strete stood at that tyme, in a hows wharyn that tyme 
 ' dwellyd William Geffrey habyrdasher, the king, the 
 1 queene, my lady the kingys moder, my lord of Oxyn- 
 e jford, wyth many other lordys and ladys, and perys of 
 ' this realm, wyth also certayn ambassadors of France 
 1 lately sent from the French king : and so passyng the 
 
 *' said estatys, eyiher guyving to other due and convenyent 
 
 II saluts and countenancs, so sone as hyr grace was ap- 
 " pr oaf hid unto the sayd pagend, the fadyr began his 
 " spech as folowyth : 
 
 Hunc veneram locum, septeno lumine septum. 
 Dignumque Arthuri totidem astra micant. 
 
 I am begynyng and ende, that made ech creature 
 My sylfe, and for my sylfe, but man esspecially
 
 A DIALOGUE, & C . 
 
 Both male and female, made aftyr myne aunfygure, 
 
 Whom I joyned togydyr in matrimony, 
 
 And that in paradyse, declaring opynly 
 
 That men shall weddyng in my chyrch solempnize, 
 
 Fygurid and signified by the erlhly paradyze. 
 
 In. thyx my chyrch I am allwuy recydent 
 As my chyeff tabernacle, and most chosyn place, 
 Among these goUyn condylstikkis, which represent 
 My catholyk cliyrch shynyng affor my face, 
 With lys,ht offeyth, wisdom, doctryne, and grace, 
 And meruelously eke enflamyd toward me 
 Wyth the etiyngwible fyre of chary te. 
 
 Wherefore, my welbelovid dowthyr Katharyn, 
 Syth I have, made yow to myne awn semblance 
 In my chyrch to be maried, and your noble childryn 
 To regn in this land as in their enherytance, 
 Se that ye have me in speciall remembrance: 
 Love me and my chyrch yowr spiritual modyr. 
 Fur ye dispy>,i>ig that oon, dyspyse that othyr. 
 
 Look that ye walk in my precepts, and obey them well : 
 And here I give you the same blyssyng that I 
 Gave my well beloved chylder of Israeli ; 
 Blyssyd be the fruyt of your bely ; 
 Yower substance and frutys I shall encrease and mul- 
 
 typly ; 
 
 Yower rebellious enimyes I shall put in yoivr hand, 
 Encreasing in honour both yow and yowr land, 
 
 Lovewit. This would be censured now-a-days as pro- 
 fane to the highest degree. 
 
 Trueman. No doubt on't : yet you see there was a 
 time when people were not so nicely censorious in these 
 matters, but were willing to take things in the best 
 sense; and then this was thought a noble entertain- 
 ment for the greatest king in Europe (such I esteem 
 king Henry VII. at that time) and proper for that day 
 of mighty joy and triumph. And I must farther ob- 
 serve out of Lord Bacon's history of Henry VII. that 
 the chief man who had the care of that day's proceed- 
 ings was bishop Fox, a grave counsellor for war or
 
 A DIALOGUE, &c. 
 
 peace, and also a good surveyor of works, and a good 
 master of cerempnies, and it seems he approv'd it. 
 The said lord Bacon tells us farther, That whosoever 
 had those toys in compiling, they were not altogether 
 pedantical. 
 
 Lovewit. These things however are far from that 
 which we understand by the name of a play. 
 
 Trueman. It may be so; but these were the plays of 
 those times. Afterwards in the reign of king Henry 
 VIII. both the subject and form of these plays began 
 to alter, and have since varied more and more. I have 
 by me, a thing called A merry play between the Par- 
 doner and the Frere, the Curate and Neybour Pratte. 
 Printed the 5th of April 1533, which was 24 Henry 
 VIII. (a few years before the dissolution of monaste- 
 ries.) The design of this play was to ridicule Friers 
 and Pardoners. Of which I'll give you a taste. To 
 begin it, the .Frier enters with these words : . 
 
 Deus hie ; the holy trynyte 
 Preserve all that now here be. 
 
 Dere bretherne, yf ye will consyder 
 
 1 he cause why I am com hyder, 
 
 Ye wolde be glad to knowe my entent: 
 
 For I com not hytherfor mony nor j or rent, 
 
 I com not hytherfor meat nor for meale. 
 
 But I com hytherfor your soules heale, &c. 
 
 After a long preamble he addresses himself to preach, 
 when the Pardoner enters with these words : 
 
 God and St. Leonarde send ye all his grace, 
 As many as ben assembled in this place, &c. 
 
 and makes a long speech, shewing his bulls and his 
 reliques, in order to sell his pardons, for the raising 
 some money towards the rebuilding 
 
 Of the holy chappell of sweet saynt Leonarde, 
 Which late by fyre was destroyed and marde. 
 
 Both these speaking together, with continual iuterrup- 
 tion, at last they fall together by the ears. Here the
 
 A DIALOGUE, &c. 
 
 curate enters (for you must know the scene lies in the 
 church), 
 
 Hold your hands ; a vengeance on ye both two, 
 That ever ye came hyther to make this ado, 
 To polute my chyrche, &c. 
 
 Frier. Mayster parson, I marvayll ye will give ly- 
 cence 
 
 To this false knave in this audience 
 To publish his ragman rolles with lyes. 
 I desijred hym ywys more than ones or twyse 
 To hold his peas tyll that I had done, 
 But he would here no more than the man in the mone. 
 
 Pardoner. Why sholde I suffre the, more than thou me ? 
 Mayster parson gave me lycence before the. 
 And I wolde thou knowest it I have relykes here, 
 Other maner stujfe than thou dost bere : 
 I wyll edefy more with the syght of it, 
 Than will all thy pralynge of holy wryt ; 
 For that except that the precher himselfe lyve well, 
 His predycacyon wyll helpe never a dell, &c. 
 
 Parson. No more of this wranglyng in my chyrch : 
 I slirewe yowr hertys bothefor this lurche. 
 Is there any blood shed here between these knaves ? 
 Thanked be god they had no stavys, 
 Nor egotoles,for then it had ben wronge, 
 Well, ye shall synge another songe. 
 
 Here he calls his neighbour Prat, the Constable, 
 with design to apprehend 'em, and set 'em in the stocks. 
 But the Frier and Pardoner prove sturdy, and will not 
 be stock'd, but fall upon the poor Parson and Con- 
 stable, and bang them both so well-favour'dly,that at last 
 they are glad to let 'em go at liberty : and so the farce 
 ends with a drawn battle. Such as this were the plays 
 of that age, acted in gentlemen's halls at Christmas, or 
 such like festival times, by the servants of the family, 
 or strollers, who went about and made it a trade. It
 
 A DTALOGUE, &c. 
 
 is not unlikely that the 7 lords in those day, and per- 
 sons of eminent qnality had their several gangs of 
 players, as some have now of fiddlers, to whom they 
 give cloaks and badges. The first comedy that I have 
 seen, that looks like regular, is Gammer Gurton's 
 Needle, writ 8 , I think, in the reign of king Edward VI. 
 This is composed of five acts, the scenes unbroken, and 
 the unities of time and place duly observed. It was 
 acted at Christ's College in Cambridge; there not 
 being as yet any settled and public theatres. 
 
 Lovewit. I observe, Trueman, from what you have 
 said, that plays in England had a beginning much like 
 those of Greece ; the Monologues and the Pageants 
 drawn from place to place on wheels, answer exactly to 
 the cart of Thespis, and the improvements have been 
 by such little steps and degrees as among the ancients, 
 till at last, to use the words of Sir George Buck (in his 
 Third University of England) " Dramatic poesy is so 
 ' lively express'd and represented upon the public 
 ' stages and theatres of this city, as Rome in the auge 
 ' (the highest pitch) of her pomp and glory, never saw 
 ' it better performed, I mean (says he) in respect of 
 ' the action and art, and not of the cost and sump- 
 ' tuousness." This he writ about the year 1631. 
 But can you inform me, Trueman, when the public 
 theatres were first erected for this purpose in London ? 
 Trueman. Not certainly; but, I presume, about 
 the beginning of queen Elizabeth's reign. For Stow, 
 in his survey of London (which book was first printed 
 in the year 1598) says, " Of late years, in place of these 
 stage plays (i. e. those of religious matters) have 
 been used comedies, tragedies, interludes, and histo- 
 ries, both true and feigned; for the acting whereof 
 certain publick places, as the Theatre, the Curtine, 
 &c. have been erected." And the continuator of 
 
 7 Till the 25th year of ryueen Elizabeth, the queen had not any 
 players ; but in that year twelve of the best of all those who be- 
 longed to several lords, were chosen, and sworn her servants. 
 Stow's Annals, p. 698. ' 
 
 8 See vol. II. p. 3, where a reason is assigned for supposing that 
 this play was written later.
 
 A DIALOG UE, &c. CiXVil 
 
 Stow's annals, p. 1004, says, that in sixty years before 
 the publication of that book, (which was Ann. Dom 
 1529) no less than seventeen publick stages, or common 
 play-houses, had been built in and about London. In 
 which number he reckons five inns or common 
 osteries, to have been in his time turned into play- 
 houses, one Cock-pit, Saint Paul's singing-school, one 
 in the Black-friers, one in the White-friers, and one in 
 former time at Newington Butts ; and adds, before the 
 space of sixty years past, I never knew, heard, or read 
 of any such theatres, stages, or play-houses, as have 
 been purposely built within man's memory. 
 
 Lovewit. After all, I have been told, that stage-plays 
 are inconsistent with the laws of this kingdom, and 
 players made rogues by statute. 
 
 Trueman. He that told you so, strain'd a point of 
 truth. I never met with any law wholly to suppress 
 them : sometimes, indeed, they have been prohibited 
 for a season ; as in times of Lent, general mourning, or 
 publick calamities, or upon other occasions, when the 
 government saw fit. Thus by proclamation, 7 of April, 
 in the first year of queen Elizabeth, plays and intef- 
 ludes were forbid till Allhallow-tide next following. 
 Hollinshed, p. 1184. Some statutes have been made 
 for their regulation or reformation, not general sup- 
 pression. By the stat. 39 Eliz. cap. 4. (which was 
 made for the suppressing of rogues, vagabonds, and 
 sturdy beggars) it is enacted, s. t. " That all persons 
 ' that be, or utter themselves to be, proctors, procurers, 
 ' patent gatherers, or collectors for gaols, prisons, or 
 ' hospitals, or fencers, bearwards, common players of in- 
 ' terludes and ministrels, wandering abroad, (other than 
 ' players of interludes belonging to any baron of this 
 ' realm, or any other honourable personage of greater 
 1 degree, to be authorized to play under the hand and 
 < seal of arms of such baron or personage^) all juglers, 
 1 tinkers, pedlars, and petty chapmen, wandering abroad, 
 f all wand' ring persons, #c. able in body, using loyter- 
 ' ing, and refusing to work for such reasonable wages as 
 ' is commonly given, fyc. These shall be adjudged and
 
 .' A DIALOGUE, &c. 
 
 " deemed rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy beggars, and 
 " punished as such" 
 
 Lovewit. But this privilege of authorizing or licens- 
 ing, is taken away by the stat. Jac. I. ch. 7. s. 1. and 
 therefore all of them, as Mr. Collier says, p. 242, are 
 expressly brought under the aforesaid penalty, without 
 distinction. 
 
 Trueman. If he means all players, without distinc- 
 tion, 'tis a great mistake. For the force of the queen's 
 statute extends only to wandering players, and not to 
 such as are the king or queen's servants, and esta- 
 blish 'd in settled houses, by royal authority. On such, 
 the ill character of vagrant players (or, as they are now 
 called, strollers) can cast no more aspersion, than the 
 wandering proctors, in the same statute mentioned, on 
 those of Doctors-Commons. By a stat. made 3 Jac. I. 
 ch. 21. it was enacted, " That if any person shall, in 
 " any stage-play, interlude, shew, may-game or pageant, 
 " jestingly or prophanely speak or use the holy name of 
 " God, Christ Jesus, or of the Trinity, he shall forfeit 
 " for every such o/ence 10/." The stat. 1 Charles I. ch. 1. 
 enacts, " That no meetings, assemblies, or concourse of 
 " people shall be out of their own parishes, on the Lord's 
 " day, for any sports or pastimes whatsoever, nor any 
 " bear-baiting, bull-baiting, interludes, common-plays, or 
 " other unlawful exercises and pastimes, used by any per- 
 " son or persons within their own parishes." These are 
 all the statutes that I can think of, relating to the stage 
 and players ; but nothing to suppress them totally, till 
 the two ordinances of the long parliament, one of the 
 22d of October, 1647, the other of the llth of Feb. 
 1647 ; by which all stage-plays and interludes are 
 absolutely forbid ; the stages, seats, galleries, &c. to be 
 pulled down ; all players, tho' calling themselves the 
 king or queen's servants, if convicted of acting within 
 two months before such_ conviction, to be punished as 
 rogues according to law ; the money received by them 
 to go to the poor of the parish ; and every spectator to 
 pay five shillings to the use of the poor. Also cock- 
 fighting was prohibited by one of Oliver's acts of 31,
 
 A DIALOGUE, &c. 
 
 March, 1654. But I suppose no body pretends these 
 things to be laws. I could say more on this subject, 
 but I must break off here, and leave you, Lovewit ; my 
 occasions require it. 
 
 Lovewit. Farewell, old Cavalier. 
 
 Trueman. Tis properly said; we are almost all of 
 us, now, gone and forgotten.
 
 C1XX . LETTERS PATENT FOR 
 
 , 15 January, 14 Car. II. 1662. 
 
 A Copy of the LETTERS PATENTS then granted by 
 King Charles II. under the Great Seal of England, 
 to Sir William D'avenant, Knt, his Heirs and As- 
 signs, for erecting a new Theatre, and establishing of 
 a company of actors in any place vAthin London or 
 Westminster, or the Suburbs of the same : And that 
 no other but this company, and one other company, by 
 virtue of a like Patent, to Thomas Killigrew, ^Esq ; 
 should be permitted within the said liberties. 
 
 CHARLES the second, by the Grace of God, king of 
 England, Scotland, France, and Ireland, defender of 
 the faith, &c_. to all to whom all these presents shall 
 come, greeting, 
 
 Recites former pa- Whereas our royal father of glori- 
 tents, 14 Car. I. ous memory, by his letters patents 
 ann. 1639. to Sir under his great seal of England bear- 
 Will. D'avenant. ing date at Westminster the 26th day 
 of March, in the 14th year of his reign, did give and 
 grant unto Sir William D'avenant (by the name of 
 William D'avenant, gent.) his heirs, executors, adminis- 
 trators, and assigns, full power, licence, and authority, 
 That he, they, and every of them, by him and them- 
 selves, and by all and every such person and persons 
 as he or they should depute or appoint, and his and 
 their laborers, servants, and workmen, should and 
 might, lawfully, quietly, and peaceably, frame, erect, new 
 build, and set up, upon a parcel of ground, lying near 
 unto or behind the Three Kings ordinary in Fleet- 
 street, in the parishes of St. Dunstan's in the west, 
 London; or in St. Bride's, London; or in either of 
 them, or in any other ground, in or about that place, 
 or in the whole street aforesaid, then allotted to him for 
 that use ; or in any other place that was, or then after 
 
 3
 
 ERECTING A NEW THEATRE. 
 
 should be assigned or allotted out to the said Sir Wil- 
 liam D'avenant by Thomas earl of Arundel and Surry, 
 then Earl Marshal of England, or any other commis- 
 sioner for building, for the time being in that behalf, a 
 theatre or play-house, with necessary tiring and retiring 
 rooms, and other places convenient containing in the 
 whole forty yards square at the most, wherein plays, 
 musical entertainments, scenes, or other the like pre- 
 sentments might be presented. And our said royal 
 father did grant unto the said Sir William D'avenant, 
 his heirs, executors, and administrators and assignes, 
 that it should and might be lawful to and for him the 
 said Sir William D'avenant, his heirs, executors, ad- 
 ministrators, and assignes, from time to time, to 
 gather together, entertain, govern, privilege, and keep, 
 such and so many players and persons to exercise ac- 
 tions, musical presentments, scenes, dancing, arid the 
 like, as he the said Sir William D'avenant, his heirs, 
 executors, administrators, or assignes, should think fit 
 and approve for the said house. And such persons to 
 permit and continue, at and during the pleasure of the 
 said Sir William D'avenant, his heirs, executors, ad- 
 ministrators, or assignes, from time to time, to act 
 plays in such house so to be by him or them erected, 
 and exercise musick, musical presentments, scenes, 
 dancing, or other the like, at the same or other houses 
 or times, or after plays are ended, peaceably and 
 quietly, without the impeachment or impediment of any 
 person or persons whatsoever, for the honest recrea- 
 tion of such as should desire to see the same ; and that, 
 it should and might be lawful to and for the said Sir 
 William D'avenant, his heirs, executors, administra- 
 tors, and assigns, to take and receive of such as should 
 resort to see or hear any such plays, scenes, and enter- 
 tainments whatsoever, such sum or sums of money as 
 was or then after, from time to time, should be accus- 
 tomed to be given or taken in other play-houses and 
 places for the like'plays, scenes, presentments, and en- 
 tertainments as in and by the said letters patents,
 
 Clxxii ' LETTERS PATENT FOB 
 
 relation being thereunto had, more at large may ap- 
 pear. 
 
 13 Car. II. exempli- And whereas we did, by our letters 
 fication of said let- patents under the great seal of Eng- 
 ters patents. j^^ bearing date the 16th day of 
 
 May, in the h3th year of our reign, exemplifie the said 
 recited letters patents granted by our royal father, as 
 in and by the same, relation being thereunto had, at 
 large may appear* 
 
 Surrender of both And whereas the said Sir William 
 to the king in the D'avenant hath surrendered our letters 
 court of Chancery, patents of exemplification, and also the 
 said recited letters patents granted by our royal father, 
 into our Court of Chancery, to be cancelled ; which 
 surrender we have accepted, and do accept by these 
 presents. 
 
 New grant to Sir Know ye that we of our especial 
 
 William D'avenant, grace, certain knowledge, and meer 
 his heirs and assigns, motion, and upon the humble peti- 
 tion of the said Sir William D'avenant, and in con- 
 sideration of the good and faithful service which he 
 the said Sir William D'avenant hath done unto us, 
 and doth intend to do for the future ; and in consider- 
 ation of the said surrender, have given and granted, 
 and by these presents, for us, our heirs and successors, 
 do give and grant, unto the said Sir William D'avenant, 
 his heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns, full 
 power, licence, and authority, that he, they, and every 
 one of them, by him and themselves, and by all and 
 every such person and persons as he or they should 
 depute or appoint, and his or their labourers, servants, 
 and workmen, shall and may lawfully, peaceably, and 
 To erect a theatre quietly, . frame, erect, new build, and 
 in London or West- set up, in any place within our cities 
 minster, or the su- of London and Westminster, or the 
 b ur bs- suburbs thereof, where he or they 
 
 shall find best accommodation for that purpose ; to be 
 assigned and allotted out by the surveyor of our works; 
 one theatre or play-house, with necessary tiring and
 
 ERECTING A NEW THEATRE. 
 
 retiring rooms, and other places convenient, of such 
 extent and dimention as the said Sir William D'ave- 
 nant, his heirs or assigns shall think fitting? wherein 
 tragedies, comedies, plays, operas, musick, scenes, and 
 all other entertainments of the stage whatsoever, may 
 be shewed and presented. 
 
 And we do hereby, for us, our heirs and successors, 
 grant unto the said Sir William D'avenant, his heirs 
 and assigns, full power, licence, and authority, from 
 time to time, to gather together, entertain, govern, pri- 
 viledge and keep, such and so many And toentertain 
 piayers and persons to exercise and players, &c. to act, 
 act tragedies, comedies, plays, operas, without the im- 
 and other performances of the stage, peachmentofany 
 within the house to be built as afore- P er 
 said, or within the house in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, 
 wherein the said Sir William D'avenant doth now exer- 
 cise the premises; or within any other house, where he 
 or they can best be h'tted for that purpose, within our 
 cities of London and Westminster, or the suburbs 
 thereof; which said company shall be ike servants of our 
 dearly beloved brother, James Duke of ^ork, and shall 
 consist of such number as the said Sir William D'ave- 
 nant, his heirs or assigns, shall from time to time think 
 meet. And such persons to permit and continue at 
 and during the pleasure of the said Sir William D'ave- 
 nant, his heirs or assigns, from time to time, to act 
 plays and entertainments of the stage, of all sorts, 
 peaceably and quietly, without the impeachment or im- 
 pediment of any person or persons whatsoever, for the 
 honest recreation of such as shall desire to see the 
 same. 
 
 And that it shall and may be lawful to and for the 
 said Sir William D'avenant, his heirs and assigns, to 
 take and receive of such our subjects as shall resort to 
 see or hear any such plays, scenes and entertainments 
 whatsoever, such sum or sums of money, as either have 
 accustomably been given and taken in the like kind, or 
 as shall be thought reasonable by him or them, in re- 
 gard of the great expences of scenes, musick, and such 
 new decorations, as have not been formerly used.
 
 . LETTERS PATENT FOR 
 
 And further, for us, our heirs, and successors, we do 
 hereby give and grant unto the said Sir William D'ave- 
 nant, his heirs and assigns, full power to make such 
 allowances out of that which he shall so receive, by the 
 acting of plays and entertainments of the stage, as 
 aforesaid, to the actors and other persons imployed in 
 acting, representing, or in any quality whatsoever, 
 about the said theatre, as he or they shall think fit ; 
 and that the said, company shall be under the sole go- 
 vernment and authority of the said Sir William D'are- 
 nant, his heirs and assigns. And all scandalous and 
 mutinous persons shall from time to time be by him 
 and them ejected and disabled from playing in the said 
 theatre. 
 
 That no other And for that we are informed that 
 
 company but this, divers companies of players have taken 
 
 j nd e ?, t M? r un ~ upon them to act plays publicly in 
 <ier Mr. Kilhgrew, , . c i i j \i7 t 
 
 be permitted to act Our said Clties of London and West ' 
 within London or minster, or the suburbs thereof, with- 
 Westminster, or the out any authority for that purpose ; we 
 suburbs. jo hereby declare our dislike of the 
 
 same, and will and grant that only the said company 
 erected and set up, or to be erected and set up by the 
 said Sir William D'avenant, his heirs and assigns, by 
 virtue of these presents, and one other company erected 
 and set up, or to be erected and set up by Thomas 
 Killigrew, Esq., his heirs or assigns, and none other, 
 shall from henceforth act or represent comedies, trage- 
 dies, plays, or entertainments of the stage, within our 
 said cities of London and Westminster, or the suburbs 
 thereof; which said company to be erected by the said 
 Thomas Killigrew, his heirs or assigns, shall be subject 
 to his and their government and authority, and shall 
 be stiled the Company of Us and our Royal Consort. 
 
 And the better to preserve amity and correspondency 
 betwixt the said companies, and that the one may not 
 incroach upon the other by any indirect means, we will 
 No actor to go from and ordain, That no actor or other 
 one company to the person employed about either of the 
 other, said theatres, erected by the said Sir 
 
 William D'avenant and Thomas Killigrew, or either of
 
 ERECTING A NEW THEATRE. 
 
 them, or deserting his company, shall be received by 
 the governor or any of the said other company, or any 
 other person or persons, to be employed in acting, or 
 in any matter relating to the stage, without the consent 
 and approbation of the governor of the company, whereof 
 the said person so ejected or deserting was a member, 
 signified under his hand and seal. And we do by these 
 presents declare all other company and companies, 
 saving the two companies before mentioned, to be 
 silenced and suppressed. 
 
 And forasmuch as many plays, formerly acted, do 
 contain several prophane, obscene, and scurrilous pas- 
 sages; and the womens parts therein have been acted 
 by men in the habits of women, at which some have 
 taken offence ; for the preventing of these abuses for 
 the future, we do hereby straitly charge and command 
 and enjoyn, that from henceforth no new play shall be 
 acted by either of the said companies, containing any 
 passages offensive to piety and good manners, nor any 
 old or revived play, containing any such offensive pas- 
 sages as aforesaid, until the same shall 
 be corrected and purged, by the said ct :t V 1 *?** 
 masters or governors of the said re- 
 spective companies, from all such offensive and scanda- 
 lous passages, as aforesaid. And we do likewise permit 
 and give leave that all the womens parts to be acted in 
 either of the said two companies for the time to come, 
 may be performed by women, so long as these recrea- 
 tions, which, by reason of the abuses aforesaid, were 
 scandalous and offensive, may by such reformation be 
 esteemed, not only harmless delights, but useful and 
 instructive representations of humane life, to such of 
 our good subjects as shall resort to see the same. 
 
 And these our letters patents, or the 
 inrollment thereof, shall be in all things 
 good and effectual in the law, accord- 
 ing to the true intent and meaning of Jaw, according to 
 the same, any thing in these presents the true meaning 
 contained, or any law, statute, act, of the same, al- 
 
 ,. , J . though, &c. 
 
 ordinance, proclamation, provision,
 
 clxxvi LETTERS PATENT, &C. 
 
 restriction, or any other matter, cause, or thing what- 
 soever, to the contrary, in any wise notwithstanding ; 
 although express mention of the true yearly value, or 
 certainty of the premises, or of any of them, or of any 
 other gifts or grants by us, or by any of our progeni- 
 tors or predecessors, heretofore made to the said Sir 
 William D'avenant in these presents, is not made, or 
 any other statute, act, ordinance, provision, proclama- 
 tion, or restriction heretofore had, made, enacted, 
 ordained, or provided, or any other matter, cause, or 
 thing whatsoever to the contrary thereof, in any wise 
 notwithstanding. In witness whereof, we have caused 
 these our letters to be made patents. Witness our self 
 at Westminster, the fifteenth day of January, in the 
 fourteenth year of our reign. 
 
 By the King. HOWARD.
 
 GOD'S PROMISES, 
 
 &c.
 
 JOHN BALE, author of the Morality of God's Promises, 
 is more known as an Historian, and Controversialist, 
 than as a Dramatick writer. He was born on the 21st 
 of November, 1495, at Cove, a small village near Dun- 
 wich, in Suffolk. His parents, having many other chil- 
 dren, and not being in verv affluent circumstances, 
 sent him, at the age of twelve years, to the monastery 
 of Camelites at Norwich *, where he received part of his 
 education, and from whence he removed to St. John's 
 College f, Cambridge I. While he continued at the 
 University, being as he says seriously stirred up by the 
 illustrious the Lord Wentworth, he renounced the 
 tenets of the church of Rome ; and, that he might 
 never more serve so execrable a beast, T took, says he, 
 to wife the faithful Dorothy, in obedience to that 
 divine command, '' Let him that cannot contain, 
 " marry." Bishop Nicholson insinuates, that his dis- 
 like to a state of celibacy was the means of his con- 
 version, more than any doubts which he entertained 
 about the truth of his faith. The change of his re- 
 ligion exposed him to the persecution of the Romish 
 clergy, particularly of Lee, archbishop of York, and 
 Stokesley, bishop of London : but he found an able and 
 powerful proctor in the person of Lord Cromwell, the 
 favourite of Henry the Eighth. On the death of this 
 nobleman, he withdrew into the Low Countries, and 
 resided there eight years; in which time he wrote 
 several pieces in the English language. On the ac- 
 cession of King Edward the Sixth, he was recalled 
 
 * It is said by Mr. Wallis, in " The Natural History and Anti- 
 " quities of Northumberland," 4to. vol. -'. p. .591, that John Bale 
 lived and studied at the Abbey of Hulme inth at county, of 
 which society he was a member. 
 
 t Mr. A. Chalmers in is Biographical Dictionary, says, that 
 Bale was of ./... College, Cai"brid^e. C. 
 
 t The writer of Bale's ariii 1.^ in tlif iiio^raphia Hritannica hath 
 fallen into a mistake, asserint; hi n to h;iv t - been of St. John's 
 College, O.i/'itnl. Bale's own words are tiiese : "In omni litera- 
 " ruin baruarie ac mentis coecita;e illic et < 'uiitubi i%i<e pervagabar, 
 " nullum habens tutorem aut AJecaenatein ; donee, lucente Dei 
 " verbo, ecclesiae revocari coepissent ad verce theologire purissimo.s 
 " fontes." Dr. Berkeahout hath adopted the same error.
 
 into England, and obtained the living of Bishop's 
 Stocke, in the county of Southampton. During his 
 residence at his living, he was almost brought to the 
 point of death by an ague ; when hearing that the 
 king was come in progress to Southampton, five miles 
 only from where he dwelt, he went to pay his respects 
 to him. " I toke my horse, says he, about 10 or the 
 " clocke, for very weaknesse scant able to sytt hym, 
 " and so came thydre. Betwixt two and three of the 
 " clocke, the same day, I drew towardes the place 
 " where as his majestie was, and stode in the open 
 " strete ryght against the gallerye. Anon, my frinde 
 " Johan Fylpot, a gentylman, and one of hys previe 
 " chambre, called unto him two more of hys com- 
 " panyons, which in moving their heades towardes me, 
 " shewed me most frendely countenaunces. By one of 
 ' these three the kynge havynge informacion that I 
 " was there in the strete, he marveled thereof, for so 
 " much as it had bene tolde hym a lytle afore that I 
 ' was bothe dead and buried. With that hys grace 
 ' came to the wyndowe, arid earnestly behelde me a 
 ' poore weake creature, as though he had upon me so 
 ' so symple a subject an earnest regard, or rather a 
 ' very fatherly care." This visit to the king occasioned 
 his immediate appointment to the bishoprick of Ossory, 
 which was settled the next day, as he declared* after- 
 wards, against his will, of the king's own mere motion 
 only, without suit of friends, meed, labour, expences, or 
 any other sinister means else. On the 20th of March, 
 1553,f he was consecrated at Dublin by the arch- 
 bishop of that see, and underwent a variety of perse- 
 cutions from the Popish party in Ireland, which at 
 length compelled him to leave his diocese, and conceal 
 himself in Dublin. Endeavouring to escape from thence 
 in a small trading vessel, he was taken prisoner by the 
 captain of a Dutch man of war, who rifled him of all 
 
 * See his Vocacyon. 
 
 t Mr. A. Chalmers gives the date of Bale's consecration, 
 February 2, 1553, and not the 20th of March. The former is 
 correct. C.
 
 his money, apparel, and effects. The ship was then 
 driven by stress of weather into St. Ives in Cornwall, 
 where he was taken up on suspicion of high treason, 
 but soon discharged. From thence, after a cruize of 
 several days, the ship arrived in Dover Road, and he 
 was again put in danger by a false accusation. On his 
 arrival in Holland, he was kept prisoner three weeks, 
 and then obtained his liberty on payment of a sum of 
 money. From Holland he retired to Basil in Switzer- 
 land, and continued abroad during the remainder of 
 Queen Mary's reign. On the accession of Queen 
 Elizabeth, he returned to England; but being dis- 
 gusted with the treatment he met with in Ireland, he 
 went thither no more. He was promoted on the 15th 
 of January, 1560, to a prebend in the Cathedral Church 
 of Canterbury, and died in that city in Nov. 1563, in 
 the 68th year of his age. According to the manners 
 of the times in which he wrote, he appears to have taken 
 very indecent liberties with all his antagonists in his 
 religious controversies, and to have considered himself 
 as not bound by any rules of decorum in replying to 
 those from whom he differed in matters wherein the in- 
 terests of Religion were concerned. The acrimony of 
 his style on these occasions acquired him the appella- 
 tion of bilious Bale, and it was applied to him with 
 singular propriety. His principal work is esteemed the 
 Scriptorum illustr'mm majoris Britannia quam mine An- 
 gliam et Scotam vacant Catalogus ; a Japhelo per 3618 
 annos usque ad annum huncdomini 1 557, &c. first printed 
 imperfectly at Wesel 1549, and afterwards more com- 
 pletely in 1557 and 1559,* He was the Author of a 
 great number of Dramatic Pieces, three of which 
 only appear to have been published, viz. 
 
 " A Tragedye or Enterlude, manyfesting the chefe 
 " promyses of God unto Man in all ages of the olde 
 
 * Five centuries of writers seem to have been printed at Ipswich 
 in 1549, under the following title. Illiutrium Majoris Britani<e 
 Scriptorum, hoc e&t Angl'ue, Camlrriir, et Scotite, Summarium. The most 
 cQinplete mid enlarged edition was printed at Basil by Oporinus 
 in 1559. 0.
 
 " lawe from the fall of Adam to the Incarnacyon of 
 " the Lorde Jesus Christ. Compyled by Johan Bale, 
 " Anno Domini 1538, 8vo." 
 
 Another Edition of this performance was printed in 
 4to. by John Charlewood 1577, and in the title-page 
 said to be now fyrst imprinted.* (See Ames, 369.) 
 
 " A brefe Comedy or Enterlude of Johan Baptystes 
 " preachyng in the Wildernesse, the crafty assaultes of 
 " the hypocrytes, with the gloryouse baptysme of the 
 " Lorde Jesus Christ. Compyled by Johan Bale, 
 " Anno 1538, 8vo." 
 
 Re-printed in the Harleian Miscellany. 
 
 " A brefe Comedy or Enterlude, concernynge the 
 " temptatyon of our Lorde and Saver Jesus Christ by 
 " Sathan in the desart. Compyled by Johan Bale, 
 " Anno 1538, Svo." (Ames, 497, 498.) 
 
 According to Ames all these pieces were originally 
 printed abroad. 
 
 This present copy is taken from an old Black Letter 
 edition in 4to. in the valuable collection of David 
 Garrick, Esq. The title-page being damaged, I am 
 unable to give the date of it. 
 
 It will not be imagined, that any of the pieces in 
 this volume, except Ferrex and Porrex, are given as 
 good ; but only as curiosities, and to shew from what 
 low beginnings our stage has arisen. If in this view 
 they afford any entertainment, it is all that is intended. 
 What is remarkable in this drama is, that it is divided 
 into seven acts,f and at the end of each act is a kind 
 of chorus, which was performed with voices and instru- 
 ments. The curious reader will observe, in this and 
 the other pieces which compose this volume, how very 
 loose and undetermined the orthography of our lan- 
 
 * It very likely -was the first edition from an English press, as 
 the copy bearing the date of 15S8, as the time when it was " coni- 
 " piled" by pale was obviously printed abroad, and probably at 
 Geneva. C. 
 
 t It will be seen that the design of the author necessarily divided 
 itself into seven ages or periods, for the seven promises by the 
 Creator to Adaui, Noah, Abraham, Moses, David, Esaias, and John 
 the Baptist. C.
 
 guage was about 200 years ago: the same words being 
 so constantly spelled different ways, makes it very cer- 
 tain they had no fixed rule of right and wrong in 
 spelling; and provided the letters did but in any 
 manner make out the sound of the word they would 
 express, it was thought sufficient.
 
 INTERLOCUTORES. 
 
 PATER CCELESTIS. 
 Justus NOAH. 
 MOSES sanctus. 
 ESAIAS propheta. 
 ADAM primus homo. 
 AB R, A H A M fidelis. 
 DAVID rex pius. 
 JOANNES baptista. 
 
 BALEUS prolocutor* 
 
 * This list of characters is not in the old copy but was made out 
 from the mention of persons in the progress of the piece. C.
 
 GOD'S PROMISES. 
 
 BALEUS Prolocutor. 
 
 IF profyght maye growe, most Christen audyence, 
 By knowlege of thynges whych are but transytorye, 
 And here for a tyrne, of moch more congruence, 
 Advantage myght sprynge, by the serche of causes 
 
 heavenlye, 
 
 As those matters are, that the Gospell specyfye. 
 Without whose knowledge no man to the truthe can 
 
 fall,* 
 Nor ever atteyne to the lyfe perpetuall. 
 
 For he that knoweth not the lyvynge God eternaU, 
 The father, the sonne, and also the holye Ghost, 
 And what Christ suffered for redempcyon of us all, 
 What he comrnaunded, and taught in every coost, 
 And what he forbode, that man must nedes be lost, 
 And cleane secluded, from the faythfull chosen sorte, 
 In the heavens above, to hys most hygh dysconforte. 
 
 Yow therfor (good fryndes) I lovyngely exhort 
 To waye soche matters, as wyll be uttered here, 
 Of whom ye may loke to have no tryfeling sporte 
 In fantasyes fayned, nor soche lyke gaudysh gere, 
 But the thyngs that shall your inwarde stomake chear, 
 
 * The old copy from which this dramatic piece was first reprinted 
 by Dodsley, and subsequently by Mr. Reed, having been damaged, 
 and a part of the leaf lost, it was not poss.bie to ascertain exactly 
 the last word of this line : it was therefore supplied by conjecture 
 and not very happily : the line has till now stood 
 
 " Without whose knowledge no man to the truthe can come." 
 But the form of the stanza and the rhime in the next line 
 shews decidedly that this is wrong. There are objections to the 
 word, fall, now substituted for come, for the sake of rhiming with 
 ptrpetuall: to fall from the truth, however is not an uncommon ex- 
 pression, and without very great violence in a case of such necessity 
 we may perhaps also use to fall to the truth. C.
 
 10 GOD'S PROMISES. [ACT i. 
 
 To rejoyce in God for your justyfycacyon, 
 And alone in Christ to hope for your salvacyon. 
 
 Yea, first ye shall have the eternal generacyon 
 Of Christ, like as Johan in hys first chaptre wryght, 
 And consequentlye of man the first creacyon, 
 The abuse and fall, through hys first oversyght, 
 And the rayse agayne through God's hygh grace and 
 
 myght: 
 
 By promyses first, whych shall be declared all, 
 Then by hys owne sonne, the worker pryncypall. 
 
 After that Adam bywayleth here hys fall, 
 God wyll shewe mercye to every generacyon, 
 And to hys kyngedome, of hys great goodnesse call 
 Hys elected spouse, or faythfull congregacyon, 
 As here shall apere by open protestacyon, 
 Whych from Christe's birthe shall to hys death con- 
 clude : 
 They come that therof wyll shewe the certytude. 
 
 ACTUS PRIMUS.* 
 
 Pater ccelestis. In the begynnynge, before the hea- 
 vens were create, 
 
 In me and of me was my sonne sempyternall 
 With the holy Ghost, in one degre or estate 
 Of the hygh Godhed, to me the father coequall, 
 And thys my sonne was with me one God essencyall. 
 Without separacyon at any tyme from me. 
 True God he is, of equall dignyte. 
 Sens the begynnynge, my sonne hath ever be, 
 Joined wyth hys Father in one es&encyall beynge. 
 All thynges were create by hym in yche degre, 
 In heaven and earthe, and have their dy verse workynge: 
 Wythout hys power, was never made anye thynge,- 
 That was wrought ; but through hys ordynaunce, 
 Each have hys strength and whole contynuance. 
 
 In hym is the lyfe and the just recoveraunce 
 
 * The commencement of this Act is not marked in the original 
 although notice is given of its conclusion. C.
 
 ACT. I.] GOD'S PROMISES. 11 
 
 For Adam and hys, which nought but deathe deserved. 
 And thys lyfe to men is an hygh perseveraunce, 
 Or a lyght of faythe, wherby they shall be saved. 
 And thys lyght shall shyne among-e the people darkened 
 With unt'aythfulnesse. Yet shall they not with hym 
 
 take. 
 But of wyllfull hart hys lyberall grace forsake. 
 
 Whych wyll compel I me agaynst man for to make 
 In my dyspleasure, and sende places of coreccyon, 
 Most grevotise and sharpe, hys wanton lustes to slake, 
 By water and tyre, by sycknesse and infeecyon, 
 Of pestylent sores, molestynsje hys cornpleccyon, 
 By troublouse warre, by cterthe and peynefull scarse- 
 
 nesse, 
 And after thys lyfe be an extreme heavynesse. 
 
 I wyll first begynne with Aiiam for hys lewdenesse, 
 Whych for an apple neglected my commaundement. 
 He shall contynue in laboure for hys rashenesse, 
 Hys oulye sweate shall provyde hys food and rayment: 
 Yea, yet mu-t he have a greatter ponnyshment, 
 Most terryblt deal lie shall brynge hym to hys ende, 
 To teache hym how he hys lord God shall offende. 
 Hie proceeds in tcrram end it A damns, ac post .quartum 
 
 versum denuo resu^git. 
 Adam primus homo. Mercy full Father, thy pytiefull 
 
 grace extende 
 
 To me caretull wretche, whych have mesore abused, 
 Thy precept breakynge. O Lorde, I mynde to amende, 
 If thy great goodnesse wolde now have me excused, 
 Most heavenlye Maker, lete me not be refused, 
 Nor cast from thy syght for one pore synnefull cryme, 
 Alas I am frayle, my whole kynde ys but slyme. 
 
 Pater ccelestis. I wott it is so, yet art thu no lesse 
 
 faultye, 
 Than thu haddyst bene made of matter moch more 
 
 worthye. 
 
 I gave the reason, and wytte to understande 
 The good from the evyll, and not to take on hande, 
 Of a braynelesse mynde, the thynge whych I forbad the.
 
 12 GOD'S PROMISES. [ACT i. 
 
 Adam primus homo. Soch heavye fortune hath 
 
 chefelye chaunced me, 
 For that I was left to myne owne lyberte. 
 
 Pater ccelestis. Then thu art blamelesse, and the 
 
 faulte thu layest to me. 
 Adam primus homo. Naye all I ascribe to rny own 
 
 imbecyllyte. 
 
 No faulte in the Lorde, but in my infirmyte, 
 And want of respect in soche gyftes as thu gavest me. 
 Pater ccelestis. For that I put the at thyne owne 
 
 lyberte, 
 
 Thu oughtest my goodnesse to have in more regarde. 
 Adam primus homo. Avoyde it I cannot, thu layest it 
 
 to me so harde. 
 
 Lorde, now I perceyve what power is in man, 
 And strength of hymseife, whan thy swete grace is 
 
 absent. 
 
 He must nedes but fall, do he the best he can, 
 And daunger hymseife, as apereth evydent; 
 For I synned not to longe as thu wert present ; 
 But whan thu wert gone, I fell to synne by and by, 
 And the dyspleased. Good lorde I axe the mercy. 
 Pater ccelestis. Thu shall dye for it, with all thy 
 
 posteryte. 
 Adam primus homo. For one faulte, good lorde, 
 
 avenge not thyself on me, 
 Who am but a worme, or a fleshelye vanyte. 
 
 Pater ccelestis. I save thu shalt dye, with thy whole 
 
 posteryte. 
 Adam primus homo. Yet mercy swete lorde, yf anye 
 
 mercy maye be. 
 Pater ccelestis. I am immutable, I maye change no 
 
 decre. 
 Thu shalt dye (I saye) without anye remedye. 
 
 Adam primus homo. Yet gracyouse Father, extende 
 
 to me thy mercye, 
 
 And throwe not awaye the worke whych thu hast create 
 To thyne owne Image, but avert from me thy hate. 
 Pater coslestis. But art thu sorye from bottom of thy 
 hart?
 
 ACT i.] GOD'S PROMISES. 13 
 
 Adam primus homo. Thy dyspleasure is to me most 
 
 heavye smart. 
 Pater ccelestis. Than wyll I tell the what thu shall 
 
 stycke unto, 
 Lyfe to recover, and my good faver also. 
 
 Adam primus homo. Tell it me, swete Lorde, that I 
 
 maye therafter go. 
 Paler ccelestis. Thys ys my covenant to the and all 
 
 thy ofsprynge. 
 
 For that thu hast bene deceyved by the serpent, 
 I wyll put hatred betwixt hym for hys doynge, 
 And the woman kynde. They shall heraf'ter dyssent; 
 Hys sede with her sede shall never have agrement; 
 Her sede shall presse downe hys heade unto the grounde, 
 Slee hys snggestyons, and hys whole power confbunde. 
 Cleave to thys promyse, with all thy invvarde powre, 
 Fyrmelye enclose it in thy remembraunce fast ; 
 Folde it in thy fdythe with full hope day and houre, 
 And thy salvacyon it will be at the last. 
 That sede shall clere the of all thy wyckednesse past, 
 And procure thy peace, with most hygh grace in my 
 
 syght. 
 
 Se thu trust to it, and holde not the matter lyght. 
 Adam primus homo. Swete lorde, the promyse that 
 
 thyself here hath made me, 
 
 Of thy mere goodnesse, and not of my deservynge, 
 In my fay the I trust shall so establyshed be, 
 By helpe of thy grace, that it shall be remaynynge 
 So longe as I shall have here contynuynge, 
 And shewe it I wyll to my posteryte, 
 That they in lyke case have therby felycyte. 
 
 Pater c&lestis. For a closynge up, take yet one 
 
 sentence with the. 
 Adam primus homo. At thy pleasure, Lorde, all 
 
 thynges myght ever be. 
 Pater ccelestis. For that my promyse maye have the 
 
 deper effect 
 
 In the faythe of the and all thy generacyon, 
 Take thys sygne with it, as a seale therto connect. 
 Crepe shall the serpent, for hys abhomynacyon ;
 
 14 GOD'S PROMISES. [ACT i 
 
 The woman shall sorowe in paynefull propagacyon. 
 Like as thu shalt finde thys true in outwarde workynge, 
 So thynke the other, though it be an hydden thynge. 
 
 Adam primus homo. Incessaunt praysynge to the 
 
 most heavenlye lorde 
 
 For thys thy socoure, and undeserved kyndnesse 
 Thu byndest me in hart thy gracyouse gyftesto recorde, 
 And to beare in mynde, now after my heavynesse, 
 The brute of thy name, with inwarde joye and glad- 
 
 nesse. 
 
 Thu dysdaynest not, as wele apereth thys daye, 
 To fatche to thy folde thy first shepe goynge astraye. 
 
 Most myghtye maker, thu castest not yet awaye 
 Thy synnefull servaunt, whych hath done most offence. 
 It is not thy mynde for ever I shuld decaye, 
 But thu reservest me, of thy benyvolence, 
 And hast provyded for me a recompence, 
 By thy appoyntment, like as I have receyved 
 In thy stronge promyse, here openly pronounced. 
 
 Thys goodnesse, dere lorde, of me is undeserved, 
 I so declynynge from thy first instytucyon, 
 At so lyght mocyons. To one that thus hath swerved, 
 What a lorde art thu, to geve soche retrybucyon ! 
 I, damnable wretche, deserved execucyon 
 Of terryble deathe, without all remedye, 
 And to be put out of all good memory e. 
 
 I am enforced to rejoyce here inwardelye, 
 An ympe though I be of helle, deathe, and dampnacyon, 
 Through myowne workynge : for I consydre thy mercye 
 And pytiefull mynde for my whole generacyon. 
 It is thu, swete lorde r that workest my salvacyon, 
 And my recover. Therfor of a congruence, 
 From hens thu must have my hart and obedyence. 
 
 Though I be mortall, by reason of my offence, 
 And shall dye the deathe*, like as God hath appoynted : 
 
 * This scriptural expression occurs very frequently in our ancient 
 dramatick writers. 
 
 Never this heart shall have the thoughtful dread 
 To die the death that by your grace's doom, 
 By just desert, shall be pronounc'd to me : 
 
 Ferrex and Porrex, A. 4. S. 2.
 
 ACT. II.] GOD'S PROMISES. 15 
 
 Of thys am I sure, through hys hygh influence, 
 
 At a serten daye agayne to be revyved. 
 
 From grounde of my hart thys shall not be removed, 
 
 I have it in faythe and therfor I will synge, 
 
 Thys Antheme to hym that my salvacyon shall brynge. 
 
 Tune sonora voce, provoiutis genibus, Antiphonam incipit, 
 
 O sapientia, quam prosequetur chorus cum organis, eo 
 
 interim exeunte. 
 
 Vel sub eodem tono potent sic Anglice cantari. 
 
 O eternal sapyence, that procedest from the mouthe 
 of the hyghest, reachynge fourth with a great power 
 from the begynnynge to the ende, with heavenlye 
 swetnesse dysposynge all creatures, come now and en- 
 struct us the true waye of thy godlye prudence. 
 Finit Actus primus. 
 
 ACTUS SECUNDUS. 
 
 Pater ccelestis. I have bene moved to stryke man 
 
 dyverselye, 
 
 Sens I lefte Adam in thys same earthly mansyon ; 
 For whye ? he hath done to me dyspleasures manye, 
 And wyll not amende hys lyfe in anye condycyon : 
 No respect hath he to my worde nor monycyon, 
 But doth what hym lust, without dyscrete advysement, 
 And wyll in no wyse take myne advertysement. 
 
 Cain hath slayne Abel, hys brother, an innocent, 
 Whose bloude from the earthe doth call to me for 
 
 vengeaunce : 
 
 Either to die the death, or to abjure 
 For ever the society of men. 
 
 Midsummer's Night's Dream, A. l.S. 1. 
 Or else he must not only die the death, 
 But thy unkindness shall his death draw out 
 To lingering sufferance. 
 
 Measure for Measure, A. 2. S. 4. See Dr, Johnson and 
 
 Mr. Steevens's Notes on the two latter passages. 
 Wertthou my bosom-love, thou dyst the death; 
 Best ease for madness is the loss of breath. 
 
 Machin's Dumb Knight, A. 2.
 
 GOD'S PROMISES. [ACT n. 
 
 My children with mennis so carnallye consent, 
 That their vayne workynge is unto me moche grevaunce : 
 Mankynde is but fleshe in hys whole dallyaunce. 
 All vyce encreaseth in hym contynuallye, 
 Nothynge he regardeth to walk unto my glorye. 
 
 My hart abhorreth hys wylfull myserye, 
 Hys cankred malyce, hys cursed covetousenesse, 
 Hys lustes lecherouse, hys vengeable tyrannye, 
 TJnmercyfull mourther, and other ungodlynesse. 
 I will destroye hym for hys outragyousnesse. 
 And not hym onlye, but all that on earthe do stere*, 
 For it repenteth me that ever I made them here. 
 Justus Noah. Most gentyll maker, \vith hys frayle- 
 
 leness sumwhat beare, 
 
 Man is thy creature, thyselfe cannot saye naye. 
 Though thu puuysh hym, to put hym sumwhat in feare, 
 Hys faulte to knowledge, yet seke not hys decaye. 
 Thu mayest reclayme hym, though he goeth now 
 
 astraye, 
 
 And brynge hym agayne, of thy abundaunt grace, 
 To the fold of faythe, he acknowlegynge hys trespace. 
 Pater ccelestis. Thu knowest I have geven to him 
 
 convenyent space, 
 
 With lawful warnynges, yet he amendeth in no place. 
 The naturall lawe, which I wrote in hys harte, 
 He hath outraced, all goodne?se puttynge a parte : 
 Of helthe the covenaunt, whych I to Adam made, 
 He regardeth not, but walketh a damnable trade. 
 Justus Noah. All thys is true, lorde, I cannot thy 
 
 words reprove, 
 
 Lete hys weaknesse yet thy mercyfull goodnessemove. 
 Pater ccelesiis. No weaknesse is it, but wylfull work- 
 ynge all, 
 
 That reigneth in man through mynde dyabolycall. 
 He shall have therfor lyke as he hath deserved. 
 
 Justus Noah. Lose hym not yet, lorde, though he 
 
 hath depelye swerved. 
 I knowe thy mercye is farre above hys rudenesse, 
 
 " Stir. Glossary to Mandeville's Voyages, 1725.
 
 ii.] GOD'S PROMISES. 17 
 
 Beyenge infynyte, as all other thynges are in the. 
 Hys folye therfbr now pardone of thy goodnesse, 
 And measure it not beyonde thy godlye pytie. 
 Esteme not hys faulte farder than helpe may be, 
 Butgraunt hym thy grace, as he offendeth so depelye, 
 The to remembre, and abhorre hys myserye. 
 
 Of all goodnesse, lorde, remembre thy great mercye 
 To Adam and Eve, breakynge thy first commaunde- 
 
 ment. 
 
 Them thu relevedest with thy swete promyse beavenlye, 
 Synnefull though they were, and their lyves neglygent. 
 I knowe that mercye with the is permanent, 
 And will be ever, so longe as the worlde endure: 
 Than close not thy hande from man, whych is thy crea- 
 ture. 
 
 Beynge thy subject, he is undreneth thy cure, 
 Correct hym thu mayest, and so brynge hym to grace. 
 All lyeth in thy handes, to leave or to allure, 
 Bytter deathe to geve, or graunte most suffren solace. 
 Utterlye from man averte not then thy face, 
 But lete hym saver thy swete benyvolence, 
 Sumwhat, though he fele thy hande for hys offence. 
 
 Pater conlestis. My true servaunt Noah, thy ryght- 
 
 ousnesse doth move me 
 Sumwhat to reserve for mannys postcryte. 
 Though I drowne the worlde, yet wyll I save the lyves 
 Of the and thy wyfe, thy three sonnes and their wyves, 
 And of ych kynde two, to maynteyne yow herafter. 
 
 Justus Noah Blessed be thy name, most myghtye 
 
 mercyfull maker, 
 With the to dyspute, it were unconvenyent. 
 
 Pater ccelestis. Whye doest thu save so ? be bolde to 
 speke thy intent. 
 
 Justus Noah. Shall the other dye without any re- 
 medye? 
 
 Paler ccelestis. I wyll drowne them all, for their vvyl- 
 
 full wycked folye, 
 
 That man herafter therby maye knowe my powre, 
 And feare to offende my goodnesse daye and houre, 
 
 VOI. IX. C
 
 18 GOD'S PROMISES. [ACT Hi 
 
 Justus Noah. As thy pleasure is, so myght it alwayes 
 
 be, 
 For my helthe thu art, and sowle's felycyte, 
 
 Pater ccelestis. After that thys floude have had hys 
 
 ragynge passage, 
 
 Thys shall be to the my covenaunt everlastynge. 
 The sees and waters so farre never more shall rage, 
 As all fleshe to drowne, I wyll so tempre their work- 
 
 ynge; 
 
 Thys sygne wyll I adde also, to confirme the thynge. 
 In the cloudes above, as a seale or token clere, 
 For savegarde of man, my raynebowe shall apere. 
 
 Take thu thys covenaunt for an ernest confirmacyon 
 Of my former promyse to Adam's generacyon. 
 
 Justus Noah. I wyll, blessed lorde, with my whole 
 hart and mynde. 
 
 Pater ccelestis. Farewele than, just Noah, here leave 
 I the behynde. 
 
 Justus Noah. Most myghtye maker, ere I from hens 
 depart, 
 
 must geve the prayse from the bottom of my hart. 
 
 Whom may we thanke, lorde, for our helthe and 
 
 salvacyon 
 
 But thy great mercye and goodnesse undeserved ? 
 Thy promyse in faythe, is our justyf'ycacyon, 
 As it was Adam's, whan hys hart therin rested, 
 And as it was theirs, whych therein also trusted. 
 Thys faythe was grounded in Adam's memorye, 
 And clerelye declared in Abel's innocencye. 
 
 Faythe in that promyse, olde Adam ded justyfye, 
 In that protnyse faythe, made Eva to prophecye. 
 Faythe in that promyse, proved Abel innocent, 
 In that promyse faythe, made Seth full obedyent. 
 That faythe taught Enos, on God's name first to call, 
 And made Mathusalah the oldest man of all. 
 
 Thatfayth brought Enoch to so hygh exercyse, 
 That God toke hym up with hym into paradyse. 
 Of that faythe the want, made Cain to hate the good, 
 And all hys ofsprynge to peryshe in the flood.
 
 ACT III.] GOD'S PROMISES. 19 
 
 Faythe in that promyse, preserved both me and myne. 
 So wyll it all them whych folowe the same lyne. 
 
 Not onlye thys gyfte thu hast geven me, swete lorde, 
 But with it also thyne everlastynge covenaunt, 
 Of trust for ever, thy raynebowc bearynge recorde, 
 Nevermore to drowne the worlde by floude inconstaunt, 
 Makynge the waters more peaceable and plesaunt, 
 Alac I can not to the geve prayse condygne, 
 Yet wyll I synge here with harte meke and benygne. 
 Magna tune voce Antiphonam incipit, O oriens splendor, 
 
 $c. in genua cadens ; quam chorus proscquetur cum 
 
 organis ut supra. 
 
 Vel Anglice sub codem tono. 
 
 O most orient clerenessc, and lyght shynynge of the 
 sempiternall bryghtnesse ! O clere sunne of justyce 
 and heavenlye ryghtousnesse ! come hyther and illu- 
 myne the prisoner, syttynge now in the darke prison 
 and shaddowe of eternall deathe. 
 
 Finit Actus secundus. 
 
 INCIPIT ACTUS TERTIUS. 
 
 Pater conlestis. Myne hygh displeasure must nedes re- 
 
 turne to man, 
 
 Consyderynge the synne that he doth daye by daye ; 
 For neyther kyndenesse, nor extreme handelynge can, 
 Make hym to knovve me by any faythfull waye, 
 But styll in myschefe he walketh to hys decaye. 
 If he do not sone hys wyckednesse consydre,- 
 He is lyke, doubtlesse, to perysh all togydre. 
 
 In my syght, he is more venym than the spyder, 
 Through sodi abuses as he hath exercysed, 
 From the tyme of Noah, to this same season hyder. 
 An uncomelye acte without shame Cham commysed, 
 When he of hys father the secrete partes reveled. 
 In lyke case Nemrod against me wrought abusyon, 
 As he raysed up the castell of confusyon. 
 
 Ninus hath also, and all by the devyl's illusyon, 
 Through ymage makynge, up raysed idolatrye, 
 Me to dyshonoure. And now in the conclusyon
 
 20 . GOD'S PROMISES. [ACT in. 
 
 The vyle Sodomytes lyve so unnaturallye, 
 
 That their synne vengeaunce axeth contynuallye, 
 
 For my covenaunte's sake, I wyll not drowne with 
 
 water, 
 
 Yet shall I vysyte their synnes with other matter. 
 Abraham fidelis. Yet, mercyfull lorde, thy gracyous- 
 
 nesse remembre 
 
 To Adam and Noah, both in thy worde and promes: 
 And lose not the sowles of men in so great nombre, 
 But save thyne owne worke, of thy most dyscrete 
 
 goodness. 
 
 I wote thy mercyes are plentyfull and endles. 
 Never can they dye, nor fayle, thyself endurynge, 
 Thys hath faythe fixed fast in my understandynge. 
 Pater ccelestis. Abraham my servaunt, for thy most 
 
 faythfull meanynge, 
 Both thu and thy stocke shall have my plentouse 
 
 blessynge. 
 
 Where the unfaythfull, undre my curse evermore, 
 For their vayne workynge, shall rewe their wyckednesse 
 
 sore. 
 Abraham fidelis. Tell me, blessed lorde, where wyll 
 
 thy great malyce lyght. 
 
 My hope is, all fleshe shall not perysh in thy syght. 
 Pater ccelestis. No trulye Abraham, thu chauncest 
 
 upon the ryght. 
 
 The thynge I shall do, I wyll not hyde from the, 
 Whom I have blessyd for thy true fydelyte : 
 For I knowe thou wilt cause both thy chyldren and 
 
 servauntes, 
 
 In my wayes to walke, and trust unto my covenauntes, 
 That I may perfourme with the my earnest promes. 
 Abraham fidelis.. All that wyll I do, by assystence of 
 
 thy goodnes. 
 Pater ccelestis. From Sodom and Gomor, the abho- 
 
 mynacyons call 
 
 For my great vengeaunce, whych wyll upon them fall. 
 Wylde fyre and brymstone shall lyght upon them all. 
 Abraham fidelis. Pytiefull maker, though they have 
 
 kyndled thy furye,
 
 ACT III.] GOD'S PROMISES. 21 
 
 Cast not awaye yet the just sort with the ungodlye. 
 Paraventure there maye be fiftye ryghteouse persones 
 Within those cyties, wylt thu lose them all at ones, 
 And not spare the place, for those fyftye ryghteouse 
 
 sake? 
 Be it farre from the soch rygoure to undertake. 
 
 I hope there is not in the so cruell hardenesse, 
 As to cast awaye the just men with the rechelesse, 
 And so to destroye the good with the ungodlye. 
 In the judge of all, be never soch a furye. 
 
 Pattr ccelcstis. At Sodom, if I may fynde just per- 
 sones fiftye, 
 The place wyll I spare for their sakes verelye. 
 
 Abraham fidelis. I take upon me, to speake here in 
 
 thy presence, 
 
 More then become me, lorde pardon my neglygence : 
 I am but ashes, and were lothe the to offende. 
 
 Pater cuelestis. Saye fourth, good Abraham, for yll 
 
 dost thu non intende. 
 Abraham fidelis Happlye there maye be fyve lesse in 
 
 the same nombre ; 
 
 For their sakes I trust thu wylt not the rest accombre*. 
 Pater catlesiis. If I amonge them myght fynde but 
 
 fyve and fortye, 
 Them wolde I not lose for that just companye. 
 
 Abraham fidelis. What if the cytie maye fortye rygh- 
 teouse make? 
 
 * Chaucer, in his Canterbury Tales, 1. 509. describing the Parson 
 says, 
 
 " He sette not his benefice to hire, 
 " And lette his shepe accombred in the mire, See." 
 Dr. Morrell spells the word accumbrit, and explains it in this 
 manner : " Accumbrit may be interpreted to wallow, to lie down, qu 
 " accumbere. But Chaucer sometimes uses it another sense. 
 " That they were acombrit in thoir own distreyt. 
 
 Me chants' 2d Tale, 2910. 
 
 " i. e. they were encumbred, brought into great Streights. A vet. 
 " Gall. Combre or Comble. 
 
 " 'Ihro* Wine and Women ther was Loth accombred." 
 
 Pierce Plowman's Visions. 
 
 None of these explanations exactly agree with the text. Bishop 
 Bale certainly means, agreably to the passage in the Bible to which, 
 he alludes, to destroy or overwhelm.
 
 22 . GOD'S PROMISES. [ACT in. 
 
 Pater ccelestis. Then wyll I pardone it for those 
 
 same fortye's sake. 
 Abraham Jidelis. Be not angrye, lorde, though I 
 
 speake undyscretelye. 
 Paler cwlestis. Utter thy whole mynde, and spare 
 
 me not hardelye. 
 Abraham fidelis. Perauventure there maye be thirty 
 
 founde amonge them. 
 Pater ccclestis. Maye I fynde thirty, I wyll nothynge 
 
 do unto them. 
 Abraham fidelis. I take upon me to moche, lorde, in 
 
 thy syght. 
 Pater ccelestis. No, no, good Abraham, for I knowe 
 
 thy fay the is right. 
 Abraham fidelis. No lesse, I suppose, than twenty 
 
 can it have. 
 Pater ccelesiis. Coulde I fynde twenty, that cytie 
 
 wolde I save. 
 Abraham fidelis. Ones yet wyll I speake my mynde, 
 
 and than no more. 
 Pater ccelestis. Spare not to utter so moche as thu 
 
 hast in store. 
 Abraham fidelis. And what if there myght be ten 
 
 good creatures founde? 
 Pater ccekstis. The rest for their sakes myght so be 
 
 safe and sounde, 
 And not destroyed for their abhomynacyon. 
 
 Abraham fidelis. O mercyfull maker, moche is thy 
 
 tolieracyon 
 
 And sufferaunce of synne. I se it now in dede, 
 Witsave yet of faver out of those cyties to leade 
 Those that be faythfull, though their flocke be but 
 
 small. 
 Pater ccelestis. Loth and hys howsholde, I wyll de- 
 
 lyver all, 
 
 For ryghteousnesse sake, whych is of me and not them. 
 Abraham fidelis. Great are thy graces in the gene- 
 
 racyon of Sem. 
 
 Pater ccelestis. Well Abraham, well, for thy true 
 faythfulncs,
 
 ACT III.] GOD'S PROMISES. 23 
 
 Now wyll I geve the my covenaunt, or third promes. 
 Loke thu beleve it, as thu covetyst ryghtuousnesse. 
 
 Abraham fidelis. Lorde so regarde me, as I receyve 
 it with gladnesse. 
 
 Pater ccelestis. Of manye peoples the father I wyll 
 
 make the, 
 
 All generacyons in thy sede shall be blessyd. 
 As the starres of heaven, so shall thy kyndred be; 
 And by the same sede the worlde shall be redressed. 
 In cyrcumcysyon shall thys thynge be expressed, 
 As in a sure scale, to prove my promyse true, 
 Prynt thys in thy faythe, and it shall thy sowle renue. 
 
 Abraham jiihlis. 1 wyll not one jote, lorde, from thy 
 
 wyll dyssent, 
 
 But to thy pleasure be alwayes obedyent, 
 Thy lawes to fullfyll, and most precyouse commaunde- 
 ment. 
 
 Pater ccelestis. Farwele Abraham, for heare in place 
 I leave the. 
 
 Abraham fidelis. Thankes wyll I rendre, lyke as it 
 shall behove me. 
 
 Everlastynge prayse to thy most gloryouse name, 
 Whych savedyst Adam through faythe in thy sweet 
 
 promes 
 
 Of the womannys sede, and now confyrmest the same 
 In the sede of me. Fosoth great is thy goodnes 
 I can not perceyve, but that thy mercye is endles, 
 To soch as feare the, in every generacyon, 
 For it endureth without abrevyacyon. 
 
 Thys have I prynted in depe consyderacyon, 
 No worldly matter can race it out of mynde. 
 For ones it wyll be the fynall restauracyon 
 Of Adam and Eve, with other that hath synde ; 
 Yea, the sure helthe and rayse of all mankynde. 
 Helpe have the faythfull therof, though they be infect, 
 They condempnacyon where as it is reject. 
 
 Mercyfull maker, my crabbed voyce dyrect, 
 That it maye breake out in some swete prayse to the ; 
 And suffre me not thy due lawdes to neglect, 
 But lete me shewe forth thy commendacyons fre.
 
 24 t GOD'S PROMISES. [ACT vi. 
 
 Stoppe not my wynde pypes, but geve them lyberte, 
 To sounde to thy name, whych is most gracyouse, 
 And in it rejoyce with hart melodyouse. 
 Tune alia voce canit Antiphonam, O rex gentium, choro 
 eandem prosequente cum organis, ut prius : 
 
 Vel Anglice hoc modo. 
 
 O most myghtye governour of thy people, and in hart 
 most desyrecl, the harde rocke and true corner stone, 
 that of two maketh one, unynge the Jews with the 
 Gentyles in one churche, come now and releve man- 
 kynde whom thu hast fourmed of the vyle earthe. 
 Finit Actus tertius. 
 
 ' INCIPIT ACTUS QUARTUS. 
 
 Pater coslestis. Styll so increaseth the wyckednesse 
 
 of man. 
 
 That I am moved with plages hym to confounde. 
 Hys weakenesse to ayde, I do the best I can, 
 Yet he regardeth me no more than doth an hounde. 
 Myworde and promyse,inhysfaythetaketh nogrounde, 
 He wyll so longe walke in hys owne lustes at large, 
 That nought he shall fynde hys folye to dyscharge. 
 
 Sens Abraham's tyme, whych was my true elect, 
 Ismael have I founde both wycked, fearce, and cruell. 
 And Esau in mynde with hatefull murther infect. 
 The sonnes of Jacob to lustes unnatural fell, 
 And into Egypte ded they their brother sell. 
 Laban to ydolles gave faythfull reverence, 
 Dina was corrupt through Sichem's vyolence. 
 
 Ruben abused hys father's concubyne, 
 Judas gate chyldren of his own doughter in lawe : 
 Yea, her in my syght went after a wycked lyne. 
 Hys sede Onan spylte, his brother's name to withdrawe. 
 Achan lyved here without all godlye awe. 
 And now the chyldren of Israel abuse my powre, 
 In so vyle maner, that they move me everye howre. 
 
 Moses sanctus. Pacyfye thy wrathe, swete lorde, I 
 
 the desyre, 
 
 As thu art gentyll, benygne and pacyent 
 Lose not that people in fearcenesse of thine yre
 
 ACT iv.] GOD'S PROMISES. 25 
 
 For whom thu hast shewed soche tokens evydent, 
 Convertynge thys rodde into a lyvelye serpent, 
 And the same serpent into thys rodde agayne, 
 Thy wonderfull power declarynge very playne. 
 
 For their sakes also pattest Pharao to payne. 
 By ten dyverse plages, as I shall here declare. 
 By bloude, frogges, and lyce, by flyes, death, botche, 
 
 and blayne. 
 
 By hayle, by grassoppers, by darknesse, and by care : 
 By a soden plage, all their first-gotten ware 
 Thu slewest in one nyght, for hys fearce cruelnesse. 
 From that thy people, witholde not now thy goodnesse. 
 Pater ccelestis. 1 certyfye the, my chosen servaunt 
 
 Moses, 
 That people of myne is full of unthankefalnes. 
 
 Moses sanctus. Dere lorde, I knowe it, alas, yet waye 
 
 their weakenesse, 
 And beare with their faultes, of thy great bounteous- 
 
 nesse. 
 
 In aflamynge bushe, havynge to them respect, 
 Thu appoyntedst me their passage to direct: 
 And through the reade see thy ryght hande ded us lede 
 Where Pharoe's hoostthe floude overwhelmed in dede. 
 Thu wentest before them in a shynynge cloude all 
 
 daye, 
 
 And in the darke nyght, in fyre thushewedesttheirwaye. 
 Thu sentest them manna from heaven, to be their food. 
 Out of the harde stone thu gavest them water good. 
 Thu appoynteclest them a lande of mylke and honye. 
 Let them not perysh for want of thy great mercye. 
 Paler ccelestis. Content they are not with foule nor 
 
 yet with fay re, 
 
 But murmour and grudge, as people in dyspayre. 
 As I sent manna, they had it in dysdayne, 
 Thus of their welfare they manye tymes complayne. 
 Over Amalech I gave them the vyctorye. 
 Moses sanctus. Most gloryouse maker, all that is to 
 
 thy glorye. 
 
 Thu sentest them also a lawe from heaven above, 
 And dalye shewedest them manye tokens of great love.
 
 26 GOD'S PROMISES. [ACT iv. 
 
 The brazen serpent thu gavest them for their healynge, 
 And Balaam's curse thu turnedest into a blessynge. 
 I hope thu wilt not dysdayne to help them styll. 
 Pater ccelestis. I gave them preceptes, which they 
 
 will not fulfyll. 
 
 Nor yet knowledge me for their God and good lorde, 
 So do their vyle dedes with their wycked hartes ac- 
 
 corde 
 
 Whyls thu hast talked with me famylyarlye 
 In Synai's mountayne, the space but of dayes fortye, 
 Those sightes all, they have forgotten clerely, 
 And are turned to shamefull ydolatrye. 
 For their God, they have sett up a golden calfe. 
 Moses sanctus. Let me saye sumwhat, swete Father, 
 
 in their behalfe. 
 Pater ccelestis. I wyll first conclude, and then saye 
 
 on thy mynde. 
 
 For that I have founde that people so unkynde, 
 Not one of them shall enjoye the promyse of me, 
 For enterynge the lande, but Caleb and Josue. 
 
 Moses sanctus. Thy eternall wyll evermore fulfylled 
 
 be. 
 
 For dysobeydence thu slewest the sonnes of Aaron, 
 The earthe swellowed in both Dathan and Abiron. 
 The adders ded stynge other wycked persones els, 
 In wonderfull nombre. Thus hast thu ponnyshed re- 
 bels. 
 Pater ccelestis. Never wyll I spare the cursed iny- 
 
 quyte 
 Of ydolatrye, for no cause, thu mayst trust me. 
 
 Moses sanctus. Forgeve them yet Lorde for thys tyme, 
 
 if it may be. 
 Pater ccelestis. Thynkest thu that I wyll so sone 
 
 change my decre? 
 No, no, frynde Moses ; so lyght thu shalt not fynde 
 
 me, 
 I wyll ponnysh them all Israel shall it se. 
 
 Moses sanctus. I wote, thy people hath wrought 
 abhomynacyon,
 
 ACT IV.] GOD'S PROMISES. 
 
 Worshyppynge false goddes, to thy honour's deroga. 
 
 cyon, 
 
 Yet mercyfullye thu mayest upon them loke. 
 And if thu wylt not, thrust me out of thy boke. 
 
 Pater ccelestis. Those great blasphemers shall out of 
 
 my boke cleane, 
 But thu shall not so, for I knowe what thu doest 
 
 meane. 
 
 Conduct my people, myne angell shall assyst the, 
 That synne at a day wyll not unconnected be. 
 And for the true zele that thu to my people hast, 
 I adde thys covenaunt unto my promyses past. 
 
 Rayse them up I wyll a prophete from amonge them. 
 Not onlyke to the, to speke my wordes unto them. 
 Whoso heareth not that he shall speake in my name, 
 I wyil revenge it to hys perpetual shame. 
 The passover lambe wyll be a token just, 
 Of thys stronge covenaunt. Thys have I clerely dys- 
 
 custe, 
 In my appoyntement thys houre for your delyver- 
 
 aunce. 
 Moses sanctus. Never shall thys thynge depart from 
 
 my rememhraunce. 
 
 Laude be for ever to the most mercyfull lorde 
 Whych never withdrawest from man thy heavenlye 
 
 comfort, 
 
 But from age to age thy benefytes doth recorde 
 What thy goodnesse is, and hath bene to hys sort. 
 As we fynde thy grace, so ought we to report. 
 And doubtlesse it is to us most bounteouse, 
 Yea, for all our synnes most rype and plenteouse. 
 
 Abraham our father founde the benyvolouse. 
 So ded good Isaac in hys dystresse amonge. 
 To Jacob thu wert a gyde most gracyouse. 
 Joseph thu savedest from daungerouse deadlye wronge. 
 IMelchisedech and Job felt thy great goodnesse 
 
 stronge, 
 
 So ded good Sara, Rebecca, and fayre Rachel, 
 With Sephora my wyfe, the doughter of Raguel,
 
 28 GOD'S PROMISES. [ACT v. 
 
 To prayse the, swete lorde, my faythe doth me compell, 
 For thy covenauntes sake, wherin rest our salvacyon, 
 The sede of promyse, all other sedes excell, 
 For therin remayneth our full justyfycacyon. 
 From Adam and Noah, in Abraham's generacyon, 
 That sede procureth God's myghty grace and powre, 
 For the same sede's sake, I wyll synge now thys howre. 
 Clara tune voce Antiphonam incipit, O Emanuel, quam 
 chorus (ut prius) proseqnetur cum organis. 
 
 Vel Anglice canal : 
 
 O hygh kynge Emanuel, and our lege lorde ! the 
 longe expectacyon of Gentyles, aud the myghtye saver 
 of their multytude, the healthe and consolacyon of 
 synners, come now for to save us, as our Lorde and 
 our Redeemer. 
 
 Finit Actus quartus. 
 
 INCIPIT ACTUS QUINTUS. 
 
 Pater cxlest'is. For all the faver I have shewed 
 
 Israel, 
 
 Delyverynge her from Pharaoe's tyrannye, 
 And gevynge the land, fluentem lac & mel, 
 Yet wyll she not leave her olde ydolatrye, 
 Nor know me for God. I abhorre her myserye. 
 Vexed her I have with battayles and decayes, 
 Styll must I plage her, I se no other waves. 
 
 David rex pins. Remembre yet, lorde, thy worthye 
 
 ^ervaunt Moses, 
 
 Walkynge in thy syght, without rebuke of the. 
 Both Aaron, Jetro, Eleazar, and Phinees, 
 Evermore feared to ofFende thy mageste, 
 Moch thu acceptedest thy servant Josue. 
 Caleb and Othoniel sought the with all their hart, 
 Aioth and Sangar for thy folke ded their part. 
 
 Gedeon and Thola thy enemyes put to smart, 
 Jayr and Jephte gave prayses to thy name. 
 These, to leave ydolles, thy people ded coart. 
 Samson the strongest, for hys part ded the same. 
 Samuel and Nathan thy messages ded proclame.
 
 ACT v.] GOD'S PROMISES. 29 
 
 What though fearce Pharao wrought myschef in thy 
 
 syght : 
 He was a pagane, laye not that in our lyght. 
 
 I wote the Benjamytes abused the wayes of ryght, 
 So ded Helye's sonnes, and the sonnes of Samuel. 
 Saul in hys offyce was slouthful daye and night, 
 Wycked was Semei, so was Achitophel. 
 Measure not by them the faultes of Israel, 
 Whom thu hast loved of longe tyme so inteyrlye, 
 But of thy great grace remyt her wycked folye. 
 
 Pater ccslestis. I cannot abyde the vyce of ydolatrye, 
 Though I shuld suffer all other vyllanye. 
 Whan Josue was dead, that sort from me ded fall 
 To the worshyppynge of Asteroth and Baal, 
 Full uncleane ydolles, and monsters bestyall. 
 
 David rex plus. For it they have had thy righteouse 
 
 ponnyshment, 
 
 And for as moch as they did wyckedly consent 
 To the Palestynes and Chananytes ungodlye 
 Idolaters, takynge to them in matrymonye, 
 Thu threvvest them uridre the kynge of Mesopotamye, 
 After thu subduedest them for their idolatrye. 
 
 Eyghtene years to Eglon, the kynge of Moabytes, 
 And XX years to Jabin, the kynge of Chananytes, 
 Oppressed they were VII years of the Mydyanytes, 
 And XVIII years vexed of the cruell Ammonytes. 
 In three great battayles, of threescore thousand and 
 
 fyve, 
 
 Of thys thy people, not one was left alyve. 
 Have mercye now, lorde,andcall them to repentaunce. 
 
 Pater ccelestis. So longe as they synne, so longe 
 
 shall they have grevaunoe. 
 
 David my servaunt, sumwhat must I say to the; 
 For that thu latelye hast wrought soch vanyte. 
 
 David rex plus. Spare not, blessed lorde, but saye 
 thy pleasure to me. 
 
 Pater cceiestis. Of late dayes thu hast mysused 
 
 Bersabe, 
 The wyfe of Urye, and slayne hym in the fyelde.
 
 30 GOD'S PROMISES; [ACT v. 
 
 David rex plus. Mercye, lorde, mercye, for doubt- 
 
 lesse I am defyelde. 
 
 Pater ccelestis. I constytute the a kynge over Israel, 
 And the preserved from Saul, whych was thy enemye. 
 Yea, in my faver, so moch thu dedyest excell, 
 That of thy enemyes I gave the vyctorye. 
 Palestynes and Syryanes to the came trybutarye. 
 Why hast thu then wrought soch folye in my syght, 
 Despysynge my worde, against all godlye ryght? 
 David rex pins. I have synned, lord, I beseech the, 
 
 pardon me. 
 Pater ccelestis. Thu shalt not dye, David, for thys 
 
 inyquyte, 
 
 For thy repentaunce ; but thy sonne by Bersabe 
 Shall dye, for as moch as my name is blasphemed 
 Among my enemyes, and thu the worse estemed. 
 From thy howse for thys the swerde shall not depart, 
 David rex plus. I am sorye, lorde, from the bottom 
 
 of my hart. 
 Pater ccelestis. To further anger thu doest me yet 
 
 compell. 
 David rex pius. For what matter, lorde ? I beseech 
 
 thy goodnesse tell. 
 Pater ccelestis. Why dedest thu numbre the people 
 
 of Israel ? 
 
 Supposest in thy mind, therein thu hast done well ? 
 David rex pius. I cannot saye nave, but I have done 
 
 undyscretelye, 
 To forget thy grace, for a humayne pollycye. 
 
 Pater ccelestis. Thu shalt of these three chose whych 
 
 plage thu wilt have, 
 
 For that synnefull acte, that I thy sowle maye save. 
 A scarcenesse vii. years, or else iii. monthes exyle, 
 Eyther for iii. dayes the pestylence most vyle, 
 For one thu must have, there is no remedye. 
 
 David rex pius. Lorde, at thy pleasure, for thu art 
 
 full of mercye. 
 
 Pater ccelestis. Of a pestylence, then iii. score thou- 
 sand and ten,
 
 ACT V.] GOD ? S PROMISES. 31 
 
 In iii. dayes shall dye of thy most puysant men. 
 
 David rex pius. O lorde, it is I whych have offended 
 
 thy grace, 
 
 Spare them and not me, for I have done the trespace. 
 Pater calestis. Though thy synnes be great, thy 
 
 imvarde harte's contrycyon 
 
 Doth move my stomake in wonderful! condycion. 
 I fynde the a man accordynge to my hart. 
 Wherefor thys promyse I make the, ere I depart. 
 A frute there shall come forth yssuynge from thy 
 
 bodye, 
 
 Whom I wyll advaunce upon thy seate for ever. 
 Hys trone shall become a seate of heavenlye glorye, 
 Hys worthy scepture from ryght wyll not dyssever, 
 Hys happye kingedome, of fayth shall perysh never. 
 Of heaven and of earthe he was autor pryncypall, 
 And wyll contynue, though they do perysh all. 
 Thys sygne shalt thu have for a token specyall, 
 That thu mayst beleve my wordes unfaynedlye, 
 Where thu hast mynded, for my memoryall, 
 To buylde a temple, thu shalt not fynysh it trulye. 
 But Salomon thy sonne shall do that accyon worthye, 
 In token that Christ must fynysh every thynge 
 That I have begunne, to my prayse everlastynge. 
 David rex pius. Immortall glorye to the, most hea- 
 venlye kynge, 
 
 For that thu hast geven contynuall vyctorye 
 To me thy servaunt, ever sens my anoyntynge, 
 And also before, by manye conquestes worthye. 
 A beare and lyon I slewe through thy strengh onlye. 
 I slew Golias, which was vi. cubites longe. 
 Agaynst thy enemyes thu madest me ever stronge. 
 My fleshlye fraylenesse made me do deadlye 
 
 wronge, 
 
 And cleane to forget thy lawes of ryghteousnesse. 
 And though thu vysytedst my synnefulnesse amonge, 
 With pestylent plages, and other unquyetnesse : 
 Yet never tokest thu from me the plenteousnesse 
 Of thy godly sprete, which thu in me dedest plant. 
 I havynge remorce, thy grace coulde never want. 
 For in conclusyon, thy everlastynge covenaunt
 
 32 ' con's PROMISES. [ACT vi. 
 
 Thu gavest unto me for all my wycked synne; 
 And hast promysed here by protestacyon constant, 
 That one of my sede shall soch hygh fortune wynne, 
 As never ded man sens thys worlde ded begynne. 
 By hys power he shall put Sathan from hys holde, 
 In rejoyce whereof to synge wyll I be bolde. 
 Canora voce tune incipit Antiphonam, O Adonai, quam 
 (utprius) prosequetur chorus cum organis. 
 
 Vel sic Anglice : 
 
 O lorde God Adonai, and gyde of the fay thfullhowse 
 of Israel, whych sumtyme aperedest in the flamyng 
 bushe to Moses, and to hym dedst geve a lawe in 
 mounte Syna, come now for to redeme us in the 
 strengthe of thy ryght hande. 
 
 Finit Acius quintus. 
 
 INCIPIT ACTUS SEXTUS. 
 
 Pater ccelcstis. I brought up chyldren from their first 
 
 infancye, 
 
 Whych now despyseth my godlye instruccyons. 
 An oxe knoweth hys lorde, an asse hys master's 
 
 dewtye, 
 
 But Israel wyll not know me, nor my condycyons. 
 Oh frowarde people, geven all to superstycyons, 
 Unnaturall chyldreu, expert in blasphemyes, 
 Provoketh me to hate, by their ydolatryes. 
 
 Take hede to my wordes, ye tyrauntes of Sodoma, 
 In vayne ye offer your sacryfyce to me. 
 Dyscontent I am with yow beastes of Gomorra, 
 And have no pleasure whan I your offerynges se, 
 I abhorre your fastes and your solempnyte. 
 For your tradycyons my waves ye set apart, 
 Your workes are in vayne, I hate them from the hart. 
 
 Esaias propheta. Thy cytie, swete lorde, is now be 
 
 come unfaythfull, 
 
 And her condycyons are turned up so downe. 
 Her lyfe is unchast, her actes be very hurtefull, 
 Her murther and theft hath darkened her renowne. 
 Covetouse rewardesdoth so their conscyence drowne,
 
 ACT vi.] GOD'S PROMISES. 33 
 
 That the fatherlesse they wyll not help to ryght, 
 The poore wydowe's cause come not afore their syght. 
 Thy peccable pathes seke they neyther daye nor 
 
 nyght ; 
 
 But walke wycked waves after their fantasy e. 
 Convert their hartes, lorde, and geve them thy true 
 
 That they maye perceyve their customable folye : 
 Leave them not helplesse in so depe myserye, 
 But call them from it of thy most specyall grace, 
 By thy true prophetcs, to their sowle's helthe and 
 solace. 
 
 Pater ccelistis. First they had fathers, than had they 
 
 patryarkes, 
 
 Than dukes, than judges to their gydes and monarkes. 
 Now have they stowte kynges, yet are they wycked styll, 
 And wyll in no wyse my pleasaunt lawes fulfyll. 
 Ahvayes they applye to ydolies worshyppynge, 
 From the vyle begger to the anoynted kynge. 
 
 Esuias propheta. For that cause thu hast in two 
 
 devyded them, 
 
 In Samaria the one, the other in Hierusalem. 
 The kynge of Juda in Hierusalem ded dwell, 
 And in Samaria the kynge of Israel. 
 Ten of the twelve trybes bycame Samarytanes, 
 And the other two were Hiero.-iolymytanes. 
 
 In both these cuntreyes,accordynge to theirdoynges, 
 Thu permyttedest them to have mostcruell kynges. 
 The first of Juda was wycked kynge Roboam, 
 Of Israel the first was that cruell Hieroboam; 
 Abia than folowed, and in the other Nadab, 
 Than Basa, then Hela, then Z-tnibri, Joram and Achab. 
 
 Then Ochosias, then Athalia, then Joas ; 
 On the other part was Jonathan and Achas. 
 To rehearce them all that have clone wretchydlye 
 In the syght of the, it were longe verelye. 
 
 Pater ccelistisi. For the wycked synne of fylthye 
 
 ydolatrye, 
 Whych the ten trybes ded in the lande of Samarye,
 
 34 GOD'S PROMISES. [ACT yi. 
 
 In space of one daye fyfty thousand men I slewe, 
 
 Thre of their cyties also I overthrewe, 
 
 And left the people in soche captyvyte, 
 
 That in all the worlde they wyst not whyfher to fle. 
 
 The other ii. trybes, whan they from me went back 
 To ydolatrye, I left in the hande of Sesack, 
 The kynge of Egipt, whych toke awaye their treasure, 
 Convayed their cattel, and slewe them without measure. 
 In tyme of Achas, an hondred thousande and twentye 
 Were slayne at one tyme for their ydolatrye. 
 
 Two hondred thousande from thens were captyve 
 
 led, 
 
 Their goodes dyspersed, and they with penurye fed. 
 Seldom they fayle it, but eyther the Egipcyanes 
 Have them in bondage, or els the Assyreanes. 
 And alone they maye thanke their ydolatrye. 
 
 Esaias propheta. Wele, yet blessed lorde, releve 
 
 them with thy mercye. 
 
 Though they have been yll, by other prynces dayes. 
 Yet good Ezechias hath taught them godlye wayes. 
 Whan the prynce is good, the people are the better; 
 And as he is nought, their vyces are the greatter. 
 Heavenlye lorde, therfor send them the consolacyon, 
 Whych thu hast covenaunted with every generacyon. 
 Open thu the heavens, and lete the lambe come 
 
 hither, 
 
 Whych wyll delyver thy people all togyther. 
 Ye planetes and cloudes, cast downe your dewes and 
 
 rayne, 
 
 That the earth maye beare out helthful saver playne. 
 Pater ccelistis. Maye the wyfe forget the chylde of 
 
 her owne bodye ? 
 Esaias propheta. Naye, that she can not in anye 
 
 wyse verelye. 
 Pater ccelistis. No more can I them whych wyll do 
 
 my commandementes, 
 
 But must preserve them from all inconvenyentes. 
 Esaias propheta. Blessed art thu, lorde, in all thy 
 actes and judgementes.
 
 ACT vi.] GOD'S PROMISES. 35 
 
 Pater caelistis. Wele, Esaias, for thys thy fydelyte, 
 A covenaunt of helthe thu shall have also of me. 
 For Syon's sake now I wyll not holde my peace, 
 And for Hierusalem, to speake wyll I not cease, 
 Tyll that ryghteouse lorde become as a sunne beame 
 
 bryght, 
 
 And their just saver as a lampe extende hys lyght. 
 A rodde shall shut fourth from the olde stocke of 
 
 Jesse, 
 
 And a bryght blossome from that rote wyll aryse, 
 Upon whom alwayes the sprete of the lorde shall be, 
 The sprete of wysdome, the sprete of heavenly prac- 
 
 tyse, 
 
 And the sprete that wyll all godlynesse devyse. 
 Take thys for a sygne, a mayde of Israel 
 Shall conceyve and beare that Lord Emanuel. 
 
 Esaias propheta. Thy prayses condygne no mortal 
 
 tunge can tell, 
 
 Most worthye maker and kynge of heavenlye glorye, 
 For all capacytees thy goodnesse doth excell, 
 Thy plenteouse graces no brayne can cumpas trulye, 
 No wyt can conceyve the greatnesse of thy mercye, 
 Declared of late in David thy true servaunt 
 And now confirmed in thys thy latter covenaunt. 
 Of goodnesse thu madest Salomon of wyt most preg- 
 
 naunt, 
 
 Asa and Josaphat, with good kynge Ezechias, 
 In thy syght to do that was to the ryght pleasaunt. 
 To quench ydolatrye, thu raysedest up Helias, 
 Jehu, Heliseus, Michas, and Abdias, 
 And Naaman Syrus thu pourgedst of a leprye. 
 The workes wonderfull who can but magnyfye ? 
 
 Aryse, Hierusalem, and take faythe by and bye, 
 For the verye lyght that shall save the is commynge. 
 The Sonne of the lord apere wyll evydentlye, 
 "Whan he shall resort, se that nojoye be wantynge. 
 He is thy saver, and thy lyfe everlastynge, 
 Thy release from synne, and thy whole ryghteousnesse. 
 Help me in thys songe to knowledge his great good- 
 nesse.
 
 36 poo's PROMISES. [ACT vu. 
 
 Concinna tune voce Antiphonam inchoat, O radix Jesse 
 quam chorus prosequeler cum organis. 
 
 Vel Anglice hoc modo catiet . 
 
 O frutefull rote of Jesse, that shall be set as a synge 
 amonge people, agaynst the worldly rulers shall fearce- 
 ly open their mouthes. Whom the Gentyles worshypp 
 as their heavenlye lorde, come now for to delyver us. 
 and delaye the tyme no longar. 
 
 Finlt Actus sextus. 
 
 ACTUS SEPTIMUS. 
 
 Pater calistis. I have with fearcenesse mankynde oft 
 
 tymes corrected, 
 
 And agayne, I have allured hym by swete promes. 
 I have sent sore plages, when he hath me neglected, 
 And then by 'and by, most confortable swetnes. 
 To wynne hym to grace, bothe mercye and ryghteousnes 
 I have exercysed, yet wyll he not amende. 
 Shall I now lose hym, or shall I hym defende ? 
 
 In hys most myschefe, most hygh grace will I .sende. 
 To overcome hym by favoure, if it may be. 
 With hys abusyons no longer wyll I contende 
 But now accomplysh my first wyll and decre. 
 My worde beynge flesh, from hens shall set hym fre. 
 Hym teachynge a waye of perfyght ryghteousnesse, 
 That he shall not nede to perysh in his weaknesse. 
 
 Johannes baptista. Manasses (lorde) is past, whych 
 
 turned from the hys harte, 
 Achas and Amon have now no more ado, 
 Jechonias with other, whych ded themselves avarte 
 Fro the to ydolies, may now no farther go. 
 The two false judges, and Bel's wycked prestes also, 
 Phassur and Semeias, with Nabuchodonosore, 
 Antiochus and Triphon, shall the dyplease no more. 
 
 Thre score yeares and ten, thy people into Babylon 
 Were captyve and thrall for ydolies worshyppynge. 
 Hierusalem was lost, and left voyde of domynyon, 
 Brent was their temple, so was their other buyldynge,
 
 ACT viz.] GOD'S PROMISES. 37 
 
 Ther hygh prestes were slayne, ther treasure came to 
 
 nothyng. 
 
 The strength and bewtye of thyne owne heretage. 
 Thus dedest thu leave then in myserable bondage. 
 
 Oft had they warnynges, sumtyme by Ezechiel, 
 And other prophetes, as Esaye and Hieremye, 
 Sumtyme by Daniel, sumtyme by Ose and Johel, 
 By Amos and Abdias, by Jonas and by Sophonye, 
 By Nahurn and Micheas, by Agge and by Zacharye, 
 By Malachias, and also by Abacuch, 
 By Olda the wydowe, and by the prophete Baruch. 
 
 Remembre Josias, whych toke the abhomynacyon 
 From the people, then restorynge thy lawes agayne. 
 Of Rechab consydre the faythfull generacyon, 
 Whom to wyne-drynkynge no fryndshyppe myght con- 
 
 strayne. 
 
 Remembre Abdemelech, the frynde of truthe certayne, 
 Zorobabel the prynce, whych ded repare the temple, 
 And Jesus Josedech, of vertu the exemple. 
 
 Consydre Nehemias, and Esdras the good scrybe, 
 Mercyfull Tobias, and constaunt Mardocheus. 
 Judith and quene Hester, of the same godly trybe, 
 Devoute Mathias, and Judas Machabeus. 
 Have mynde of Eleazar, and then Joannes Hircanus, 
 Waye the ernest faythe of thys god lye companye, 
 Though the other cleane fall from thy memorye. 
 
 Pater ccelestis. I wyll Johan, I wyll, for as I sayd 
 
 afore, 
 
 Rygour and hardenesse I have now set apart, 
 Myndynge from hens fourth to wvnne man evermore 
 By wonderful I kyndenesse to breake hys stubberne hart, 
 And change it from synne. For Christ shall suffre 
 
 smart, 
 
 In mannys frayle nature for hys inyquyte, 
 Thys to make open, my massenger shalt thu be. 
 
 Johannes baptista. As thy pleasure is, so blessed 
 
 lorde appoynt me, 
 For my helthe thu art, and my sowfe's felycyte. 
 
 Pater ccelestis, Longe ere I made the, I the predes- 
 tynate,
 
 38 . GOD'S PROMISES. [ACT vii. 
 
 Before thu wert borne I the endued with grace. 
 
 In thy mother's wombe wert thu sanctyfycate 
 
 By my godlye gyft, and so confirmed in place, 
 
 A Prophete, to shewe a waye before the face 
 
 Of my most dere sonne, whych wyll come : the untyll 
 
 Applye the apace thyne offyce to fulfyll. 
 
 Preache to the people, rebukynge their neglygence, 
 Doppe them in water, they knowledgynge their offence ; 
 And saye unto them, The kyngedome of God doth cum. 
 
 Joannes baptista. Unmete, lorde, I am, Quia puer 
 
 ego sum, 
 
 An other than that, alac, I have no scyence 
 Fyt foi that offyce, neyther yet cleane eloquence. 
 
 Pater ccelestis. Thu shalt not saye so, for I have 
 
 geven the grace, 
 
 Eloquence and age, to speake in the desart place. 
 Thu must do therefor as I shall the advyse, 
 My appoynted pleasure fourth utter in any wyse 
 My stronge myghtye wordes put I into thy mouthe, 
 Spare not, but speake them to east, west, north and 
 sou the. 
 
 Hie extendens Dominus manvm, labia Joannis digito 
 tanget, ac ori imponet auream linguam. 
 
 Go now thy waye fourth, I shall the never fayle, 
 The sprete of Helias have I geven the alredye. 
 Persuade the people, that they their synnes bywayle. 
 And if they repent their customable folye, 
 Longe shall it not be ere they have remedye. 
 Open thu their hartes, tell them their helth is commynge 
 As a voyce in desart, se thu declare the thynge, 
 
 I promyse the sure, thou shalt washe hym amonge 
 
 them 
 In Jordane, a floude not farre from Hierusalem. 
 
 Johannes baptisia. Shewe me yet, good lorde, whereby 
 
 shall I knowe that man, 
 In the multytude whych wyll resort to Jordan. 
 
 Pater ccelestis. In thy mother's wombe of hym 
 haddest thu cognycyon. 
 
 Johannes baptista. Yea, that was in sprete. I wolde 
 now knowe hys person.
 
 ACT VII.] GOD'S TROJJtSES. 39 
 
 Pater ccelestis. Have thu no feare, Johan, hyra shall 
 
 thu knowe full well, 
 
 And one specyall token afore wyll I the tell. 
 Super quern videris spiritum descendentem 8$ manentetn 
 Super eum, hie est gui baptizat spiritu sancto. 
 
 Amooge all other whom thu shalt baptyse there, 
 Upon whom thu seyst the Holy Ghost descende 
 In shappe of a dove, restynge upon hys shuldere, 
 Holde hyin for the same, that shall the worlde amende 
 By baptym of sprete, and also to man extende 
 Most specyall grace. For he must repare hys fall, 
 Restorynge agayne the justyce orygyuall. 
 
 Take now thy journaye, and do as 1 the advyse. 
 First preache repentaunce, and than the people baptyse. 
 
 Johannes baptista. Hygh honour, worshypp, and 
 
 glorye be unto the, 
 My God eternall, and patrorie of all puryte. 
 
 Repent, good people, for synnes that now are past, 
 The kyngdome of heaven is at hande very nye. 
 The promysed lyght to yow approcheth fast, 
 Have faythe, and applye now to recyve him boldelye. 
 I am not the lyght, but to beare testymonye 
 Of hym am sent, that all men maye beleve, 
 That hys bloude he wyll for their redemptyon geve. 
 
 He is soch a lyght as all men doth illumyne, 
 That ever were here, or shall be after thys. 
 All the worlde he made by hys myghtye power devyne, 
 And yet that rude worlde wyll not knowe what he is. 
 Hys owne he enterynge, is not regarded of hys. 
 They that receyve hym, are God's true chyldren playne, 
 In sprete regenerate, and all grace shall attayne. 
 
 Manye do recken, that 1 Johan Baptyst am he, 
 Deceyved are they, and that wyll apere in space. 
 Though he come after, yet he was longe afore me. 
 We are weake vessels, he is the welle of grace, 
 Of hys great goodnesse all that we have we purchace. 
 By hym are we like to have a better increes 
 Than ever we had by the lawe of Moses. 
 
 In Moses' harde lawe we had not els but darkenes, 
 Fygure and shaddowe. All was not els but nyght,
 
 40. GOD'S PROMISES. [ACT VIK 
 
 Ponnyshment for synne, much rygour, payne and 
 
 roughnes. 
 
 An hygh change is there, where all is turned to lyght, 
 Grace and remyssyon anon wyll shyne full bryhgt. 
 Never man lyved that ever se God afore, 
 Whych now in our kynde mannys ruyne wyll restore. 
 Helpe me to geve thankes to that lorde evermore, 
 Whych am unto Christ a cryar's voyce in the desart, 
 To prepare the pathes and hygh wayes hym before, 
 For hys delyght is on the poore symple hart. 
 That innocent lambe from soch wyll never depart, 
 As wyll faythfullye receyve hym with good raynde. 
 Lete our voyce then sounde in some swete musycall 
 kynde. 
 
 Resona tune voce Antiphoiiam incipit, O clavis David, 
 quam prosequelur chorus cum organis, ut prius. 
 
 Vel in Anglico sermone sic : 
 
 O perfyght keye of David, and hygh scepture of the 
 kyndred of Jacob, whych openest and no man speareth*, 
 thu speakest and no man openeth ; come and delyver 
 thy servaunt mankyude, bound in prison, sytting in the 
 darknesse of synne and bytter dampnacyon. 
 
 . * * f 
 
 * i. e. asketh, enquireth. 
 So Chaucer's Testament of Creseide. 
 
 " Who had been there, and liking for to here, 
 
 " His faconde tonge and tennis exquisite, 
 " Of rethorike and practike he might lere. 
 " In brete sermon a preignant sentence write ; 
 " Before Cupide valing his cappe a lite 
 " Speris the cause of that vocacion, 
 " And he anon shewde his entencion." 
 Again, Douglas's Virgil, B. iii. p. 72. 
 
 " The seik ground deny is frute and fudis, 
 " My fader exhortis us turn againe our studis 
 " To Delos, and Apollois ansuere sptre, 
 " Be seiking him of succours us to lere ;" 
 . Again, B. v. p. 140. 
 
 " Ane uthir mache to him was socht and sperit."
 
 ACT VII. GOD'S PROMISES. 41 
 
 BALEUS Prlocutor. 
 
 The matters are soch that we have uttered here 
 As ought not to slyde from your memoryall. 
 For they have opened soch confortable gere, 
 As is to the helthe of this kynde universal!, 
 Graces of the lorde and promyses lyberall, 
 Whych he hath geven to man for every age, 
 To knytthym to Christ, and so clere hym of bondage. 
 As saynt Paule doth write unto the Corinthes 
 
 playne, 
 
 Our fore fathers were undre the cloud of darkenes, 
 And unto Christe's dayes ded in the shaddowe 
 
 remayne : 
 
 Yet were they not left, for of hym they had promes, 
 All they receyved one spirytuall fedynge doubtles. 
 They dronke of the rocke whych them to lyfe 
 
 refreshed, 
 For one savynge helthe, in Christ, all they confessed. 
 
 In the woman's sede was Adam first justyfyed, 
 So was faythfull Noah ; so was just Abraham, 
 The faythe in that sede in Moses fourth multyplyed, 
 Lykewyse in David and Esaye, ihat after cam. 
 And in Johan Bapty^t, whych shewed the very lam. 
 Though they se afarre, yet all they had one justyce, 
 One Masse (as they call it) and in Christ one sacry- 
 
 fyce. 
 
 A man can not here to God do better servyce, 
 Than on thys to grounde hys faythe and understand- 
 
 ynge. 
 For all the worlde's synne alone Christ payed the 
 
 pryce, 
 
 In hys onlye deathe was mannys lyfe alwayes restynge, 
 And not in wyll workes, nor yet in mennys deservynge, 
 The lyght of our faythe make thys thynge evydent, 
 And not the practyse of other experiment. 
 
 Where is now fre wyll, whom the hypocrytes com- 
 ment ? 
 Whereby they report they maye at their owne pleasure
 
 42 COD'S PROMISES. [ACT vn. 
 
 Do good of themselves, though grace and fayth be 
 
 absent, 
 And have good intentes their madnesse with to 
 
 measure. 
 
 Thewyll of the fleshe is proved here small treasure, 
 And so is mannys will, for the grace of God doth all. 
 More of thys matter conclude hereafter we shall. 
 
 Thus endeth thys Tragedy or enterlude, manyfest- 
 ynge the chefe promyses of God unto Man by all ages 
 in the olde lawe, from the fall of Adam, to the incar- 
 nacyon of the lorde Jesus Christ. Compyled by 
 Jbhan Bayle, Anno Domini 1538. 
 
 EDITION. 
 
 A Tragedy or enterlude manyfestyng the chefe pro- 
 myses of God unto man by all ages in the olde lawe, 
 from the fall of Adam to the incarnacyon of the lorde 
 Jesus Christ. Compyled by Johan Bale, Anno 
 Domini MDXXXVIII. In the worde (which is now 
 called the eternall sonne of God) was lyfe from the 
 begynnynge, and that life was the lyght of men. Thys 
 lyght yet shyneth in the darknesse, but the darknesse 
 comprehendeth it not. Joan I*. 
 
 * The greater part of this quotation is torn off in the only copy 
 known With certainty to exist, as well as the date and printer's 
 name, if any were ever appended. C*
 
 THE FOUR P's.
 
 JOHN HKYWOOD, or Heewood,one of the most ancient 
 dramatic writers in the English language, was born in 
 the city of London*, and educated in the University 
 of Oxford, at the ancient Hostle called Broadgate's, 
 in St. Aldgate's parish. He was in his time more 
 celebrated for his wit than his learning; and having 
 some fair possessions at North Minis, he resided there 
 after he left Oxford, and became intimately acquainted 
 with Sir Thomas More, who lived in the neighbour- 
 hood-)-. Here the latter wrote his celebrated work 
 called Utopia, and is supposed to have assisted 
 Hey wood | in the composition of his Epigrams $. 
 
 * Wood, in his Athenas Oxonienses, vol. 1. p. 149, positively fixes 
 his birth at this place. Other writers have made him a native of 
 North Minis in Hertfordshire, but apparently without any autho- 
 rity. Bale, who lived nearest to the author's time, calls him 
 Ct't'ts Londinemis ; which words, though they do not absolutely 
 prove that he was born in London, yet surely are sufficient in a 
 matter of this uncertainty to warrant any one to conclude that he 
 was a native of that city, as no circumstance appears to induce a 
 belief that he acquired the title of Citizen of London otherwise 
 than by birth. 
 
 t Peacham's Compleat English Gentleman, 4to. 1627, p. 95. 
 
 $ Gabriel Harvey's MS. Note to Speyght's Chaucer, as quoted 
 in Mr. Steevens's Shakspeare, vol. 5. 
 
 T. Bastard, in his Chrestoleros, seven bookes of Epigrams, 1598, 
 has the following, addressed Ad Johunnem Davis, in which he 
 speaks of Heywood and his reputation in this department : 
 
 " If witt may make a poet, as I gesse, 
 
 Hcyrcood wirh auncient poets may compare. 
 But thou, in word and deed, hast made him lesse 
 
 In his own witt, having yet learning spare. 
 The goate doth hunt the grasse, the wolfe the goat; 
 
 The lyon hunts the wolfe by proof we see ; 
 Hei/wood sang others downe, but thy sweete note, 
 
 Davis, hath sang him downe, and I would thee. 
 Then be not mov'd, nor count it such a sinn, 
 
 To will in thee what thou hast done in him."
 
 46 
 
 * 
 
 Through Sir Thomas More's means, it is probable our 
 author was introduced to the knowledge of King 
 Henry the Eighth, and of his daughter the Princess, 
 afterwards Queen Mary; by the former of whom, he 
 was held in much esteem for the mirth and quickness 
 of his conceits; and so much* valued by the latter, 
 that he was often, after she came to the throne, 
 admitted to the honour of waiting upon and exercising 
 his fancy before her, even to the time she lay lan- 
 guishing on her death bed. ;His education having 
 been in the Roman Catholic faith, he continued 
 steadily attached to the tenets of that religion ; and 
 during the reign f of Edward the Sixth, fell under the 
 suspicion of practising against the government, and 
 narrowly escaped the halter. After the death of his 
 patroness the queen, he left the nation, says Woodt, 
 for religion's sake, and settled at Mechlin in Brabant, 
 where he died about the year 1565, leaving several 
 
 The subsequent Ad Lectorem is to the same effect ; 
 
 " Reader, if Hey wood lived now againe, 
 Whom time of life, hath not of praise bereaved ; 
 If he would write, I could express his vaine ; 
 This would he write, or else I am deceived." 
 Sir J. Harrington quotes one of Heywood's Epigrams in the 
 Notes to B. 88 of his Translation of Orlando Fvrioso ; and Thomas 
 Wilson, in his Rhetarique, 1558, speaks of Heywood's Proverbs, 
 adding, that his " paynes in that behalfe are worthye of immortall 
 " prayse." In Barnaby Googe's Husbandry, " our English Martial 1, 
 " John Heywood," is quoted regarding Essex cheese. It would 
 not be difficult to add several other authors who quote or applaud 
 him. C. 
 
 * Athen. Oxon. vol. 1. p. 149. 
 
 t " But to step backe to iny teske (though everie place I step 
 ' to, yeeldes me sweeter discourse) what thinke you by Haywovd 
 ' that scaped hanging with his mirth ; the King being graciously 
 ' and (as I thinke) truly perswaded, that a man that wrate so 
 ' pleasant and harmelesse verses, could not have any harnifull con- 
 ' ceit against his proceedings, and so by the honest motion of a 
 ' gentleman of his chamber saved him from the jerke of the six- 
 ' string'd whip." 
 
 Harington's Metamorphoses of Ajax, 1596, p. t"5. 
 J Athen. Oxon. vol. 1. p. 149. 
 
 $ The subsequent anecdote is given by Puttenham, in his Arte of 
 English Poesk, 1589, p. 230.
 
 47 
 
 children; one of whom, Jasper Heywood, translated 
 three of Seneca's Plays, and wrote several Poems, 
 printed in the Paradise of Dainty Devises, 4to. 1578. 
 This Jasper Heywood was, according to Fuller, exe- 
 cuted in the reign of Queen Elizabeth ; but more pro- 
 bably, as Sir Richard Baker asserts, was among those 
 who were taken in 1585, and sent out of England *. 
 John Heywood f appears to be the second English 
 
 " The like hapned on a time at the Duke of Northumberland's 
 ' bourd, where merry John Heywoixi was allowed to sit at the 
 ' table's end. The Duke had a very honourable and noble mynd 
 ' alwayes to pay his debts well, and when he lacked money would 
 ' not stick to sell the greatest part of his plate : so had he done a 
 ' few days before. Heywood being loth to call for his drinke so 
 ' oft as he was dry, turned his eye toward the cupboard and said, 
 ' ' I finde great misse of your Grace's standing cups.' The Duke 
 ' thinking he had spoken it of some knowledge that his plate 
 ' was lately sold, said somewhat sharply, ' Why, sir, will not 
 ' ' those cuppes serve as good a man as yourself?' Heywood 
 ' readily replied, ' Yes, if it please your Grace ; but I would have 
 ' ' one of them stand still at mine elbow, full of drinke, that I might 
 ' ' not be driven to trouble your men so often to call for it.' This 
 ' pleasant and speedy revers of the former wordes, holpe all the 
 ' matter againe, whereupon the Duke became very pleasaunt, and 
 ' dranke a bolle of wine to Heywood, and bid a cup should be 
 ' alwayes standing by him." 
 
 This story, in itself of very little worth, serves to shew the sort 
 of terms Heywood was upon with the nobility of his time. C. 
 
 " The editor of the last edition of the Biographical Dictionary 
 asserts, but without citing his particular authority for the fact, 
 that " after many peregrinations, he died at Naples, January the 
 9th, 1.598." C. 
 
 t Dr. Palsgrave, whose Play of Acolastus was printed in the year 
 1529, seems to have been the first. See Ames, 166. 
 
 Here is a mistake, which has likewise been fallen into in a note 
 on Cymbeline, edit. 1778, vol. 9, p. 317. Acola&tus was not printed 
 so early as 1529. The original Latin was, I think, produced in 
 that year. Not having the play by me, I cannot exactly account 
 for the misinformation given in that note ; but, if my memory is to 
 be trusted, the original Latin is in verse, the translation in prose ; 
 and the title runs thus : C^media Acolastus dicta, cum, ecphrasi 
 Anglica, per Jo^annem Palsgravium, Lond. per Thomam Bertheletum, 
 4to. 1540. S. 
 
 'Ames, whose authority is quoted to prove the existence of the 
 early edition of Acolastns, mentions both that and the later one, as 
 though he had seen each. How far his accuracy is to be relied on, 
 must be left to the reader's judgment.
 
 dramatic writer. Oldys* says, he began to write 
 about the year 1530, but that he could not find he 
 published any thing so early. 
 
 The following is a List of his Works : 
 
 " A Play betwene Johan the Husband, Tyb the 
 " Wife, and Sir Johan the Priest, by John Heywood, 
 " 4to. Imprynted at London, by Willliam Rastall, 
 "the 12th Day of February, 1533." (Oldys's MS. 
 Notes, and Companion to the Play-house). 
 
 " A Mery Play betwene the Pardoner and the 
 " Frere, the Curate, and neybour Pratte, 4to. Im- 
 " prynted by Will m - Rastell, 5th of April, 1533." 
 Ames, I8 % 2. (Oldys's MS. Notes, and- Companion 
 to the Playhouse). 
 
 " The Playe called the Foure P. P. A newe and a 
 " very mery Enterlude of A Palmer, A Pardoner, A 
 " Potycary, A Pedler. Made by John Heewood, 4to. 
 " Imprynted at London in fletestreete, at the Sign of 
 " the George, by Wyllyam Myddylton. 4to. no date." 
 Also, 
 
 " A Play of Genteelness and Nobilitie. An Inter- 
 " lude in two Parts, 4to. no date." (Companion to the 
 Playhouse). 
 
 " A Play of Love. An Interlude, 4to. 1533." (Com- 
 panion to the Playhouse). 
 
 " A Play of the Weather, called A new and a very 
 " merry Interlude of all manner of Weathers, 1553," 
 fo. (Companion to the Playhouse. Oldys's Ms.). 
 Also in 12mo. printed by Robert Wyer, no date. 
 (Ames, 157) 
 
 " The Spider and the Flie, a Parable made by John 
 << Heywoodf. Imprinted by Tho. Powell, 1556," B. L. 
 4to. 
 
 MS. Notes on Langbaine. 
 
 t This parable, apologue or allegory, (for it is one and all three) 
 is not perhaps so " dull, tedious, and trifling," as Warton contends ; 
 aud if it be without much " fancj,"it has both meaning and moral. 
 In "the conclusion," Hey wood informs us that he began the work 
 twenty years before it was finished, and that he did nothing to it 
 during an interval of nineteen years. He adds, that it was com- 
 menced " with the first, aud ended with the last," of his " poor
 
 49 
 
 " John Heywood's Woorkes. A Dialogue conteyn- 
 " ing the Number of the effectual Proverbes in the 
 " English Tongue, compacte in a matter concerning 
 " two Maner of Mariages : with one Hundreth of Epi- 
 " grammes; and three Hundreth of Epigrammes np- 
 " pon three Hundred Proverbes, and a fifth hundred of 
 " Epigrammes. Whereunto are newly added, a sixte 
 " hundred of Epigrammes, by the said John Heywoode. 
 " Imprinted by Tho. Marshe, 1576,"* 4to. B. L. 
 
 Another Edition was printed by Felix Kyngston, in 
 4to. B. L. 1598. 
 
 " A Brefe Balet, touching the trayterous takynge of 
 " Scarborow Castle. Imprinted at London by Thomas 
 " Powel." On a broad side of two columns, B. L. 
 (Among the folio volumes of Dyson's Collections, in 
 the Library of the Society of Antiquarians). Tho. 
 Stafford, who took that Castle 23 April, 1557, and 
 proclaimed himself Protector of the realm, was be- 
 headed 28 May following, and three of his accomplices 
 were hanged. Oldys's Ms. 
 
 " A Balade of the meeting and marriage of the King 
 " and Queenes Highness. Imprinted by W. Ryddel." 
 One side of a large half sheet. Oldys.f 
 
 Winstanly J hath expressed a doubt, whether the 
 author of the epigrams and of the plays were not differ- 
 ent persons. The following epigram will be sufficient 
 to set that fact beyond contradiction, and at the same 
 time exhibit a specimen of the author's manner : 
 
 works. The maid who sweeps down the spider, he explains to 
 mean Queen Mary, in" sense allegoricall," whom he calls" a mer- 
 ciful maiden ;" perhaps in " sense allegorical" also. C. 
 
 * Thos. Wilson, in his Rhetorique, published in 1553, speaks 
 of Heywood's Proverbs as then in print. Thev were also repub- 
 lished in 1561 ; and the title-page professes that the work has 
 been " newly oversene, and somewhat augmented, by the sayde 
 John Heywood." The only copy I have met with is imperfect at 
 the end, and the title-page does not state who was the printer of 
 it. " John Hey woodes Woorkes" were printed collectively by Henry 
 Wykes in 1566 : they consist of Proverbs and Epigrams. 
 
 t In vol. I. of the late edition of the Royal and NMe AutJiort, by 
 M. Park, a poem in praise of Queen Mary is printed, copied from a 
 MS. in the British Museum. C. 
 
 * Lives of English Poets, p. 45.
 
 50 
 
 Art thou Heywood, with thy mad merry wit? 
 
 Yea, forsooth, master, that name is even hit. 
 Art thou Heywood, that appliest mirth more than thrift ? 
 
 Yes, sir, I take merry mirth a golden gift. 
 Art thou Heywood, that hast made many mad plays ? 
 
 Yea, many plays, few good works in my days. 
 Art thou Heywood, that hath made men merry long ? 
 
 Yea, and will, if I be made merry among. 
 Art thou Heywood, that wouldst be made merry now ? 
 
 Yes, sir, help me to it now, I beseech you. 
 
 Winstanly and Philips ascribe to him, I think, 
 falsely, the Pinner of Wakefield * and Philotus, printed 
 at Edinburgh, 1603. 
 
 Dr. Fuller f mentions a book written by our author, 
 intitled, Monumenta iiteraria ; which are said to be 
 Non tarn labore condita, quam lepore condita. 
 
 * Vol. III. t Worthies, p. 221.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 A PALMER, 
 A PARDONER, 
 
 A POTICARY, 
 
 A PEDLER.
 
 THE FOUR P's* 
 
 1 Palmer. Now God be here ; who kepeth this place I 
 
 Now by my fayth, I crye you mercy ; 
 
 Of reason I must sew for grace, 
 
 My revvdnes sheweth mef so homely. 
 
 Wherof your pardon axt and wonne, 
 
 I sew you' 2 , as curtesy doth me bynde, 
 
 To tell this whiche shalbe begonne. 
 
 In order as may come beste in mynde. 
 
 I am a Palmer, as ye 3 se, 
 
 Whiche of my lyfe muche part have 4 spent 
 
 In many a fay re and farre 5 cuntrie, 
 
 * Although more pains than usual were bestowed on the colla- 
 tion of this piece, yet, as it was printed originally by Dodsley 
 from the most corrupt of the old copies, many of the errors and 
 a few interpolations were allowed by the subsequent editor to re- 
 main. The orthography also, professed to be observed, was very 
 frequently abandoned. C. 
 
 1 Palmer] " The difference between a pilgrim and a palmer was 
 ' thus ; The pilgrim had some home or dwelling place ; but the 
 ' palmer had none. The pilgrim travelled to some certain de- 
 ' signed place or places ; but the palmer to all. The pilgrim went 
 ' at his own charges ; but the palmer professed wilful poverty, and 
 ' went upon alms. The pilgrim might give over his profession, 
 ' and return home ; but the palmer must be constant till he had 
 ' obtained the palm, that is, victory over all spiritual enemies, 
 ' and life bv death, and thence his name Palmer, or else from a 
 ' staff, or boughs of palm, which he always carried along him." 
 btaveley's Human Horseleech, 1769, p. 93. 
 
 t The first edition gives this line, 
 
 " My rewdnes sheweth me no so homely, 
 and that of 1569 has it. 
 
 " My rudenes sheweth me not so homely." 
 The negative certainly seems to have been inserted by mistake. 
 C. 
 
 2 sew you] sue now, edition 1569. 3 ye] you, edit. 1569. 
 
 4 have] hath, 1st edit. 5 fayre and farre] far and faire, 
 
 edit. 1569.
 
 54 THE 1'OUIt 
 
 As pilgryms do of good intent. 
 
 At Hierusalem 6 have I bene 
 
 Before Chryste's blessed sepulture : 
 
 The mount of Calvery have I sene 7 
 
 A holy place ye may be sure. 
 
 To Josaphat and Olyvete* 
 
 On fote, god wote, I wente ryght bare ; 
 
 Many a salte tere dyd I swete, 
 
 6 Hierusaleni], Jerusalem, edit, 1569. 7 have I] I have, 
 
 edit. 1569. 
 
 b To Josaphat atul 0/i/cefe,] Maundevile thus mentions these 
 places. " And towards the Est syde, withoute the walles of the 
 " cytee (i. e. Jerusalem) is the vale of Josaphathe, that touchethe 
 " to the walles, as thoughe it were a large dyche. And anen that 
 " vale of Josaphathe out of the cytee, is the chirche of Seynt 
 " Stevene, where he was stoned to dethe.'* Voiage and Travaile, 8vo. 
 1725, p. 96. " And above the vale, is the mount of Olyvete; and 
 " it is cleped so, for the pleutee of olyves, that growen there. 
 " That mount is more highe than the cytee of Jerusalem is; and 
 " therefore may men upon tha*. mount, see many the stretes of the 
 " cytee. And betwene that mount and the cytee, is not but the 
 " vale of Jnsuphathe, that is not fulle large. And fro that mount, 
 " steighe cure Lord Jesu Christ to hevene, upon Ascencioun-day : 
 " and zit there schewethe the schapp of his left foot in the ston," 
 Yoiage and Travaile, Svo. 1725, p. lib'. 
 
 In Dr. Andrew Borde's Introduction of Knowledge, 1542, Sign. 
 N 3. that writer, who had been on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, says. 
 " and that there is a great confluence of pylgrin s to the holy se- 
 " pulchre, and to many holy places, I will u-yJie somewhat that I 
 " doo know, and have sene in tlie place. Whosoever that dothe 
 " pretende to go to Jerusalem, let him prepare himselfe to set 
 " forth of England after Easter 7 or 8 dayes," &c. He then di- 
 rects the route a traveller ought to take, and adds, " when you 
 " come to Jerusalem, the friers which be called cordaline, they be 
 " of saynct Fraunc.es>, other they wyl receave you with devocion 
 " andbrvnge you to the sepulchre : the holy sepulchre is wythia 
 " the church, and so is the mount of Calvery, where Jesu Christ 
 " did suffer his passions. The churche is rounde lyke a temple, it 
 " is more larger than anye temple that I have sene amonges the 
 " Jues. The sepulchre is grated rounde aboute wyt.h yrone, than 
 no man shall great or pycke out any stones. The sepulchre is 
 ' lyke a lytle house, the which by masons was uyged out of a 
 ' rocke of stone. There maye.stonde wythin the sepulchre ax or a 
 ' xii parsons, but few or none dothe go into the sepulcre, except 
 ' they be singulerly beloved, and then they go in by night vyth 
 ' great feare and reverence."
 
 THE FOUE P'S 55 
 
 Before thys carkes coulde 1 ' come thare 
 
 Yet have I bene at Rome also, 
 
 And gone the statyons 10 all arow: 
 
 Saynt peter's shryne and many rno, 
 
 Than yf I told all ye do know. 
 
 Except that there be any suche, 
 
 That hath ben there, and diligently 
 
 Hath taken hede, and marked muche, 
 
 Then can they speke as muche as I. 
 
 Then at the Rodes I0 * also I was ; 
 
 And rounde about to Amias 11 . 
 
 At Saynt Toncomber and Saynt Tronion 12 : 
 
 At Saynt Bothulph 13 and Saynt Anne of Buckston'* 
 
 9 coulde] would, e Ut. 1569. 
 
 ' the, statyons (stationes, orjurnee)'] Answered to the stages be- 
 tween London and Rome, or Holy Land ; of which there is a map 
 in a Ms. of Math. Paris Roy. Libj. 14 C. VII. and Benet. Coll. c. 
 ix. and PL VII. Brit. Topog. vol. I. p. 85. G. 
 
 In Borde's Introduction (before quoted) it is said, and foras- 
 much as there may bee many that hath wrytten of the holy lands, 
 of the stacyons and of ihejurney or way, I doo passe over to speake 
 forther of this matter, &c. 
 
 J0 * Kodes] lihoJes, an island to which the Knights Hospitallers, 
 now Knights of Malta, retired, on being driven out of Jerusalem. 
 
 " Amias] Probably Emaus, near Jerusalem. 
 
 '' Saint Toncomlier and 6</i/nt Tronion] Of these saints, or places, 
 I can give no account. 
 
 Mr. Steevens in a letter to the printer ef the Saint James's 
 Chronicle, points out the following mention of Saint Tronion, in 
 Geffrey Fenton's Tragical Discourses, 4to. 1567 fo. 114 b. " He re- 
 " turned in haste to his lodgynge, where he attended the approche 
 " of bis hower of appointment wyth no lesse devocyon, than the 
 " Papistes in France performe their ydolatrous pilgrimage to the 
 " ydoll, Saynt Tronyon, upon the mount Avyon, besides Roan." 
 Regarding Saint Toncomber, he professes to be unable to add 
 any thing. 1. R. 
 
 This worthy is also noticed in the following terms in Apins and 
 Virginia 1575. Sign. E 2. 
 
 " Nay, softe, my maisters, by saincte Thomas of Trunions. 
 " 1 am not disposed to buy of your onions." C. 
 
 13 Satint Bothulph] Saint Bothulph is said to have been born in 
 Cornwall, and was eminent for working miracles about the time of 
 Lucius. He was buried at Boston in Lincolnshire. 
 
 14 Saynt Anne of Buckstoii] " Within the parish of Bacwell, in 
 ' Derbyshyre, is a chappel (somtyme dedicated to St. Anne), in a
 
 56 THE FOUR 
 
 On the hylles of Armony, where I see 15 Noe's arke 16 ; 
 With holy Job, and saynt George in Southwarke " ; 
 At Waltam 18 and at Walsyngham 19 ; 
 
 " place called Bucston, wheare is a hotte batbe, of such like qualitie 
 " as those mentioned in Bathe be. Hytherthey weare wont to run on 
 " pilgrimage, ascribinge to St. Anne miraculously, that thinge which 
 " is in that and sondrye other waters naturally." ,ombarde's Die- 
 tionarium, p. 48. Dray ton says, 
 
 I can again produce those wondrous wells 
 Of Bucston, as 1 have, that most delicious fouut 
 Which men the second Bath of England do account, 
 Which in the primer reigns, when first this well began 
 To have her virtues known unto the blest St. Anne, 
 Was consecrated then." Poly Olbion, Song xxvi. 
 
 15 see] saw 2nd edition. 
 
 16 hy'les of Artneny, where I see Noe's arke ;] " And so passe men 
 " be this Ermonie, and entren the see of Persie. Fro that cytee of 
 " Artyroun, go men to an hille that is clept Sobissficolle. And there 
 " besyde is another hille, that men clepen Ararattie : but tbe Jowes 
 " clepen it Taneez ; where Noes scbipp rested, and zit is upon that 
 " montayne : and men may seen it a ferr, in cleer svedre : and 
 " that montayne is wel a 7 myle highe. And sum men seyn, that 
 " thei ban seen and touched the schipp ; and put here fyngres in 
 " tbe parties, where the feend went out, whan that Noe seyde, 
 '' Beiiedicite. But they that seyn suche wordes, seyn here wille : 
 
 ' for a man may not gon up the montayne, for gret plentee of 
 ' snow, that is alle weys on that montayne ; nouther somer ne 
 ' wynter : so that no man may gon up there, ne never man dide, 
 ' sithe the tyme of Not, saf a monk, that, be the grace of God 
 ' broughte on of the plankes doun ; tkat zit is in the mynstre, at 
 ' the foot of the montayne." Maundevile's Voiage and Travaile, 
 1727, p. 179. 
 
 17 saynt George in Suthvxarlte] Formerly belonging to the priory 
 of Bermondsey. See Stow's Survey. 
 
 1 8 Waltam] The famous holy Cross of Waltham : which tra- 
 dition says was discovered in the following manner : A carpenter, 
 in the reign of Canute, living at Lutegaresbyry, had a vision in tbe 
 night of Christ crucified, by whom he was commanded to go to the 
 parish priest, and direct him to walk, accompanied with his parish- 
 ioners, in solemn procession to the top of an adjoining hill, where 
 on digging they would find a cross the very sign of Christ's pas- 
 sion. The man neglecting to perform the orders of the image was 
 visited by it a second time, and his hands were then griped in such 
 a manner, that the marks remained some time after. He then ac- 
 quainted the priest, and, as they were ordered, they proceeded to 
 the place pciuted out, where they discovered a great marble, hav- 
 ing in it of black flint tbe image of the crucifix. They then in- 
 formed the lord of the manor of the transaction ; and he imme-
 
 THE FOUR P'S. 57 
 
 And at the good rood 20 of dagnam" 1 ; 
 
 diately resolved to send the cross first to Canterbury, and after- 
 wards to Heading ; but on attempting to draw it to these places, 
 although with the force of twelve red oxen, and as many white 
 kine, it was found impracticable, and he was obliged to desist. 
 He then determined to fix it at Waltham, and immediately the 
 wain began to move thither of itself. In the way many persons 
 were healed of disorders ; and the relick soon became much re- 
 sorted to by the pilgrims on account of the miracles performed by 
 it. Lambarcle's Dictionarium Angliae Topographicum Historicum, 
 4to. 1730, p. 431. 
 
 19 Walsynghum] " WalBingham, in Norfolk, where was anciently 
 " an image of the Virgin Mary, famous over all Europe for the 
 " numerous pilgrimages made to it, and the great riches it pos- 
 " sessed. Erasmus has given a very exact and humorous descrip- 
 " tion of the superstitions practised there in his time. See his Ac- 
 " count of the VIRGO PARATHALASSIA, in his Colloquy, intitled, 
 " PEREGRINATIO KELIGIONIS EHGO. He tells us the rich offer- 
 " ings in silver, gold, and precious st tues, that were there shewn 
 " him, were incredible ; there being scarce a person of any note 
 " in England, but what some time or other paid a visit, or sent a 
 " present, to our LADY OF WALSINGDAM. At the dissolution of 
 " the monasteries, in 1538, this splendid image, with another from 
 " Ipswich, was carried to Chelsea, and there burnt in the pre- 
 " sence of commissioners." See Percy's E.elhjuesof Ancient Poetry 
 vol. II. p. 79. 
 
 .Robert Longland, in Pier's Plowman's Visions, 1550, p. 1. says, 
 " Hermets on a heape, wyth hoked staves, 
 " Wenten to Wutsingham, and her wenches after. , 
 
 " Great loubies and longe, yt loth were to swinke, 
 " Clothed him in copes to be knowen from other, 
 " And shopen hem her mets ; her ease to have.*' 
 See also Weever's Funeral Monuments, p. 131, 
 * rood] Ilearne, in his Glossary to Peter Langtoft, p. 544. under 
 the word cross observes, that although the cn/ss and the rood are 
 commonly taken for the same, yet the rood properly signified 
 formerly the image of Christ on the cross, so as to represent both 
 the cross and the figure of our blessed Saviour as he suffered upon 
 it. The roods that were in churches and chapels were placed in 
 shrinee, that were styled Rood-lfti, " Ritod-tyt (saith Blount) a 
 " shrine, whereon was placed the cross of Christ. The rood was an 
 " image of Christ on the cross, made generally of wood, and 
 " erected in a loft for that purpose, just o^er the passage out of the 
 " church into the chancel." But mod-Lift sometimes also signifies 
 a shrine, on which was placed the image or relicks of a saint, be- 
 cause generally a crucifix, or a cross, used likewise to attend such 
 image or relicks. 
 
 21 Dngnarn~] i. e. Dagenham, in Essex.
 
 58 THE FOUR P'S. 
 
 At saynt Cornelys 2a ; at saynt James in Gales *' : 
 
 And at saynt Wynefryde's well 24 in Walles ; 
 
 At our lady of Boston 45 ; at saynt Edmund's byry 48 ; 
 
 29 saynt Cornelys] Saint Cornelys, according to the Legenda 
 Aurea, succeeded Fabyan in the papacy, and was beheaded in the 
 reign of Decian, for refusing to sacrifice in the Temple of Mars. 
 There was a fraternity in his honour at Westminster. See their 
 pardon, Brit. Top. I. 772. 
 
 " 3 saynt James in Gales'] Weever in his Funeral Monuments, 
 p. 172. observes that " the Italians, yea those that dwell neare 
 ' Rome, will mocke and scoffe at our English (and other) pil- 
 ' grims that go to Rome to see the Pope's holinesse, and St. 
 ' Peter's chaire, and yet they themselves will runne to see the re- 
 ' liques of Saint lames of Compostella in the kingdom of Galicia, in 
 ' Spaine, which is above twelve hundred English miles." See also 
 Dr. Geddes's Tracts. 
 
 24 saynt Wynefryde's well] Saint Wenefrede's well, near Holy- 
 well, in the county of Flint, is a spring which rises at the foot of 
 a steep hill out of a rock, and is formed into a beautiful polygonal 
 well, covered with a rich arch supported by pillars ; the roof ex- 
 quisitely carved in stone ; over the fountain, the legend of St. 
 Wenefrede on a pendent projection, with the arms of England at the 
 bottom. Numbers of fine ribs secure the arch, whose intersections are 
 coupled with some sculpture. To this place the resort of pilgrims 
 was formerly very great ; and, though considerably diminished, 
 there are still to be seen in the summer a few in the water in deep 
 devotion up to their chins for hours, sending up their prayers, or 
 performing a number of evolutions round the polygonal well ; or 
 threading the arch between well and well a prescribed number of 
 times. The legend of St. Wenefrede is well known. Those who 
 desire more information'on this subject ; may be referred to The 
 Legenda Aitrea, Bishop Fleetwaod's Works; or Mr. Pennant's Tour 
 into Wales, p. 28. 
 
 25 At our Lady of Boston] Or Botolph's town, in Lincolnshire, 
 where St. Botolph was buried. 
 
 " Delicious Wythaai leads to holy Botolph's town." 
 
 Poly Dlbion, Song xxr. 
 
 S6 At saynt Edmund's Injry] " is named of Kinge Edmuncie, 
 whom the comon Chronicles call St. Edmund, or Edmund the 
 Martyr ; for Bury, is but to say a court or palace. It was first 
 a colledge of priestes, founded by Athelstane the kinge of 
 Ingland, to the honour and memorye of Edmund that was slayne 
 at Hoxtou (then called Eylesdund [or Eglesdon], as Leland 
 thinketh,) whose bones he removed thyther. The hole hystorie 
 of this matter is so enterlaced with miracles, that Polydor him- 
 selfe (who beleaved them better than I) began to dalye with it ; 
 sayinge, that Monkes were muche delighted with them." Lam- 
 barde's Dictitmarium, p. 85.
 
 THE TOUR P'S. 59 
 
 And streyght to saynt Patryke's purgatory 27 ; 
 At Riclybone* 8 , and at the blood of Hayles 29 , 
 
 "' Saiint Patryke's purgatory] This place, which was much fre- 
 quented by pilgrims, was situate on a lake called Logh Derg, in 
 the Southern part of the county of Donegal!, near the horclers of 
 Tyrone and Fermanagh. It was surrounded with wild and barren 
 mountains, and was almost inaccessible by horsemen even in sum- 
 mer time, on account of groat bogs, rocks, and precipices, which 
 environed it. The popular tradition concerning it is as ridiculous 
 as is to be found in any Legend of the Romish Martyrology. 
 After continuing in great credit many years, it began to decline ; 
 and in the 13th of Henry the Seventh was demolished with great 
 solemnity, on St. Patrick's-day, by the Pope's express order. It, 
 however, afterwards came in to- reputation ajiain, insomuch that, by 
 an order of the Privy Council, dated 13th of September, 16S2, it 
 was a second time destroyed. From this period, as pilgrimages 
 grew less in fashion, it will appear extraordinary that the place 
 should be a third time restored to its original state, and as much 
 visited as in any former period. In this condition it continued 
 until the second year of Queen Anne, when an act of the Irish 
 Parliament declared, that all meetings and assemblies there should 
 be adjudged riots and unlawful assemblies, and inflicted a penalty 
 upon every person meeting or assembling contrary to the Statute. 
 The ceremonies to be performed by the pilgrims are very exactly 
 set forth in Richardson's Great Folly, Superstition, and Idolatry, of 
 Pilgrimages in Ireland, especially of that to St. Patrick's Purgatory 
 JJu/lin, 8vo. 1727. 
 
 Enough h.ith been already said on the subject of Saint Patrick's 
 Purgutory, I shall therefore only add, that it is often mentioned in 
 Froibsard's Clmmicle. and that Sir James Melvil who visited it in 
 1545, describes it as looking " like an t>Id coal-pit, which had 
 " taken lire, by reason of the smoke that came out of the hole." 
 Melvil's Memoirs, p. 9. edit. 1683. 
 
 It is mentioned in Erasmus's Praise of Folie, 1549, Sign. A. 
 " Whereas before ye satte all heavie and glommyng, as if ye had 
 " come lately from Troponius cave, or Xriint Pattricke's pvrgatorie." 
 * 8 Ridylxme.] i. e. Hedburne within three miles of St. Alban's. 
 " At this place, says Non'en, were founde thereliques of Amphi- 
 " ball, who is saide to bo the instructour and convertonr of Alban 
 " from Paganism?, of whose reliques such was the regard that the 
 " abbottes of the monasterie of Alban had, that they should be 
 " devoutly preserved, that a decree was made by Thomas then 
 " abbott, that a j ryor and three munekes should be appointed to 
 " this holie function, whose allowance in those dayes amounted 
 " yearely to 20 pound, or upwardes, as much as three hundred 
 " pound in this age." Description nf Hartfordshire, p. 22. 
 
 See also Wrever's Funeral Monuments, p. 585. Dr. Middleton, 
 in his Letter from Pome, says, Bishop Vsher has proved that this
 
 60 THE FOUR P'S. 
 
 Where pilgrymes paynes ryght much avayles ; 
 At saynt Davys so , and at saynt Denis 31 ; 
 
 saint never existed, and that we owe the honour of his saintship 
 to a mistaken passage in the Legend of St. Alban, where the 
 Amphibolus there mentioned is nothing more than a cloak." 
 
 29 blood of Hayles.] The abbey of Hailes, in Gloucestershire, was 
 founded by Richard, king of the Romans, brother to Henry the 
 Third. This precious relick, which was commonly called the blood 
 of Hailes', was brought out of Germany by Richard's son Edmund, 
 who bestowed-a third part of it upon his father's abbey of Hailes, 
 and some time after gave the other two parts to an abbey of his 
 own foundation at Ashrug, near Berkhamstead. It was given out, 
 and believed to have this property, that, if a man was in mortal 
 sin, and not absolved, he could not see it ; otherwise, he might 
 see it very well : therefore every man that came to see this mira- 
 cle, this most precious blood, confessed himself first to one of the 
 priests there ; aiid then, offering something at the altar, was di- 
 rected to a chapel, where the miracle was shewed ; the priest who 
 confessed him, in the mean time retiring to the back part of the 
 said chapel, and putting forth a little cabinet, or vessel of crystal ; 
 which being thick on the one side, that nothing could be seen, 
 through it ; but on the other side, thin and transparent, they used 
 diversely, as their interest required. On the dissolution of the 
 abbey, it was discovered to be nothing more than honey clarified 
 and coloured with saffron, " an unctowse gumme coloured, which 
 in the glasse apperyd to be a glisterynge red resemblyng partlie 
 the color of blood, and owte of the glasse apparaunte glystering 
 yelow colour like ambre or basse gold." Certificate of visitors, 
 printed at end of Hearne's Benedictus Abbas II. 751. 
 
 ao Saynt Davys] i. e. Saint David. Drayton, in his Poly Olbion, 
 Songxxiv. says, 
 
 Whose Cambro Britons so their saints as duly brought, 
 T' advance the Christian faith, effectually that wrought j 
 Their David (oue deriv'd of th' royal British bloqd), 
 Who 'against Pelagius' false and damii'd opinions stood ; 
 And turn'd Menenia's name to David's sacred see, 
 The patron of the Welsh deserving well to be." 
 See an account of him in an extract from Bale, in Godwin de 
 Pricsulibus Anglix, p. 573. edit. 1743. He is said to have been 
 bishop 65 years, and to have lived 146. He died, according to 
 some accounts, in the year 546, according to others, in the year 
 542. His shrine, I am informed remains in the wall of his cathe- 
 dral in Pembrokeshire. 
 
 81 saynt Denis.] St. Denis, the patron of France, is said to have 
 been the disciple of St. Paul, and the first who preached the gospel 
 to the French. The Legend concerning him affirms, that, after he 
 was beheaded near Paris, he walked four miles with his head in 
 his hands. His body was said to be intombed very magnificently 
 at the abbey of St. Denis, to which the pilgrims used to resort.
 
 THE FOUR PS. 
 
 61 
 
 At saynt Mathew, and saynt Mark in Veuis 32 ; 
 At mayster Johan shorne at Canterbury 3 ; 
 The graet God of Katewade 34 , at kynge Henry 35 
 At saynt Savyour's 36 ; at our lady of-Southwell 37 ; 
 
 33 Saynt Mark in Venis] At the Cliurch of St. Mark, in Venice, 
 they pretend to have the body of that Evangelist, which was 
 brought thither by certain merchants from Alexandria in Egypt in 
 the year 810. Coryat says, that the treasure of this church was of 
 that inestimable value, that it was thought no treasure whatsoever 
 in any other place in Christendom might compare with it, neither 
 that of St. Denis in France, nor St. Peter's in Rome, nor that of 
 Madonna de Loretto in Italy, nor that of Toledo in Spain, nor any 
 other. See Coryat's Crudities, p. 2H : and The Commonwealth and 
 Government of Venice, by Contareno, translated by Lewes Lewknor, 
 Esq. 1599, p. 175. 
 
 83 mayster Johan shorne in Canterbury ;] Who this John Shorne 
 
 was 1 can give no account. In the Preface to The Accedence of 
 
 Armorie, 4to. 1597, a story is told of one who had been called to 
 
 worship in a city within Middlesex, and who being desired by a 
 
 herald to shew his coat (i. e. of arms,) " called unto his mayd, 
 
 commanding her to fetch his coat, which, being brought, was of 
 
 cloth garded with a burgunian garcl of bare velvet, well bawde- 
 
 fied on the halfe placard, and squallotted in the fore quarters. 
 
 Lo, quoth the man to the heraught, here it is, if ye will buy it, 
 
 ye shall have time of payment, as first to pay halfe in hand, and 
 
 ' the rest by and by. And with much boste he said, he ware not 
 
 ' the same since he came last from Sir John Shorne, &c." 
 
 * 4 Katewade] Catwade-bridge is in Sampford hundred, in the 
 county of Suffolk, where there may have been a famous chapel and 
 rood. G. 
 
 35 Henry'] Kerry, edit. 1569. 
 
 36 Saynt Savyour's'] " In September, the same yeare (says 
 " Weever, p. 111.), viz. an. 30 Hen. VIII. by the special motion 
 " of great Cromwell, all the notable images, unto the which were 
 " made any especiall pilgrimages and offerings, as the images of 
 " our Lady of Walsingham, Ipswich, Worcester, the Lady of Wils 
 " don, the rood of grace of our Lady of Boxley, and the image of 
 " the rood of Saint Saviour at Bermondteij, with all the rest, were 
 " brought up to London, and burnt at Chelsey, at the command- 
 " ment of the foresaid Cromwell, all the jewels, and other rich 
 " offerings, to these, and to the shrines (which were all likewise 
 " taken away, or beaten to pieces) of other saints throughout both 
 " England and Wales were brought into the king's treasure." 
 
 37 at our lady of Southwell] The church dedicated to Saint Mary 
 at Southwel, in Nottinghamshire.
 
 62 THE FOUR P'S. 
 
 At Crome 38 , at Wylsdome 39 , and at Muswel 40 ; 
 At saynt Rycharde 4 ', and at saynt Roke 44 ; 
 
 38 Crome] In the County of Kent, near Greenwich. 
 30 Wykdome] In Finsbury hundred, Middlesex, the chapel de- 
 dicated to St. Mary. See above, Note 86. 
 
 40 at Muswel] " Mu$well-hill, called also Piiisenall-hill : there 
 ' was a chappie sometime bearing the name of our ladie of Mus- 
 ' well : where now Alderman Roe hath erected a proper house, 
 ' the place taketh name of the well and of the hill, Mousewell- 
 ' hill ; for there is on the hill a spring of faire water, which is 
 ' now within the compass of the house. There was sometime an 
 ' image of the ladie of Muswell, whereuntb was a continuall re- 
 ' sort, in the way of pylgrimage, growing as is (though as I take 
 ' it fabulouslie) reported in regard of a great cure which was per- 
 ' formed by this water, upon a king of Scots, who being strangely 
 ' diseased, was, by some devine intelligence, advised to take the 
 ' water of a well in England, called Muswell, which after long 
 ' scrutation and inquisition, this well was found and performed 
 ' the cure." Norden's Speculum Britannia, p. 36. edit. 1728. I 
 
 am informed, that the mosaic pavement and other ruins of this 
 well and its chapel were to be seen about 25 years ago. 
 
 41 saynte ''ycharde] This was probably Richard Fitznige, bishop 
 of London, and treasurer of England, in the time of Henry the 
 Second. His shrine was, as We ever observes, p. 714. in St. Paul's 
 Church; and as he contributed largely to the building of the 
 church, he conjectures it to have been erected there on that 
 account. Drayton, however, in his Poly Ollnon, Song xxiv. speaks 
 of others of that name, as 
 
 " Richard, the dear son to Lothar king of Kent, 
 " When he his happy days religiously had spent ; 
 " And feeling the approach of his declining age, 
 " Desirous to see Rome in holy pilgrimage ; 
 " Into tliy country come, at Lucca left his life, 
 " Whose miracles there done, jet to this day are rife." 
 Again, 
 
 " So countries more remote with ours we did acquaint, 
 " As Richard for the fame his holiness had won, 
 " And for the wondrous things that through his prayers were done ; 
 " From this his native home into Calabria call'd, 
 " And of St. Andrew's there the bishop was install'd ; 
 " For whom she hath profess'd much reverence to this land." 
 Again, 
 
 "So other southern sees, here either less or more, 
 " Have likewise had their saints 
 
 " we have of Chichester 
 
 " tiaint Richard, and with him St. Gilbert, which do stand 
 " Imoll'd amongst the rest of this our mitred band." 
 
 42 Saynt Roke] Saint Roke, or Roch, was born at Montpelier, in
 
 THE FOUR P'S. 63 
 
 * 
 
 And at our lady that standeth in the oke/ 
 
 To these, with other many one, 
 
 Devoutly have 1 prayed and gone, 
 
 Prayeing to them, to pray for me 
 
 Unto the blessed trynytye, 
 
 By whose prayers and my dayly payne, 
 
 [ truste the soner to obtain 43 
 
 For my salvacyon, grace and mercy. 
 
 For be ye sure I thynke surely, 44 
 
 .Who seketh sayntes for Chryste's sake, 
 
 And namely suche as payne do take 
 
 On fote, to punysh their 45 frail body, 
 
 Shall therby meryte more hyely 
 
 Then by any thynge done by man. 
 
 Pardoner.* 6 And when ye have gone as far as ye 47 
 
 , can, 
 
 For all your labour and gostely entente, 
 Ye 48 will come home as wyse as ye wente. 
 
 Palmer. Why, syr, dyspyse ye pylgrymage ? 
 
 Pardoner. Nay, fore 49 god, syr, then dyd I rage; 
 I thynke ye ryght well oecupyed, 
 To seke these sayntes on every syde. 
 Also your payne 50 I nat dyspraise it; 
 But yet I discomende your wit: 
 And or 51 we go even so shall ye, 
 If you in thys wvl answere me. 
 
 France ; and died in prison at Anglerye, in the province of Lom- 
 bardy, where a large church was built in honour of him. See 
 Legendn Aurea, p. 238. 
 
 * World of Wonders, 316. O. G. 
 
 43 obtain] obtaye, 1st edit. 44 surely] assuredly 2d edit. 
 
 *'> their] thy, 1st edit. 
 
 4fi Pardoner] " Pardoners were certain fellows that carried 
 " about the Pope's Indulgences, and sold them to such as would 
 '' buy them ; against whom Luther, by Sleydan's report, incensed 
 " the people of Germany in his time, exhorting them ne merces tarn 
 " tiles tanti emcrent." COWEL. 
 
 47 y e ~\ y u . edit. 1569. 
 
 46 Ye will come home] Yet welcome, 1st edit. 
 
 " n fore] for, 1st edit. , M payne] paynes, 2d edit. 
 
 or] ere, edit. 15G9.
 
 64 THE FOUR 
 
 I pray you shew what the cause is 
 Ye wente all these pylgrymages ? 
 
 Palmer. Forsoth, this lyfe I dyd begyn 
 To rydde the bondage of my syn : 
 For whiche these sayntes rehersed or this : 
 I have both sought and sene, I wys ; 
 Besechynge them to bear recorde 
 Of all my payne, unto the lord, 
 That gyveth all remyssion, 
 Upon eche man's contricyon : 
 And by thyr good mediacion, 
 Upon myne 52 humble submyssion, 
 I trust to have in very dede, 
 For my soule helthe the better spede. 
 
 Pardoner. Nowe is your owne confessyon lykely 
 To make yourselfe 5 3 a fole quyckely. 
 For I perceyve ye wolde obtayn 
 No other M thynge for all your payne, 
 But onely grace your soule to sa.ve : 
 Now rnarke in this what wyt ye have. 
 To seke so farre, and helpe so nye ; 
 Even here at home is remedy : 
 For at your dore myselfe doth dwell, 
 Who coulde have saved your soule as well ; 
 As all your wyde waudrynge shall do, 
 Though ye wente thryes to Jericho. 
 Nowe syns ye myght have spedde at home, 
 What have ye wone by ronnying 55 at Rome ? 
 
 Palmer. If this be true that ye have moved, 
 Then is my wyt in dede reproved. 
 But let us here fyrste what ye are ? 
 
 Pardoner. Truly I am a pardoner. 
 
 Palmer. Truly a pardoner ! that may be true ; 
 But a true pardoner doth nat ensew. 
 
 55 myne] my, edit. 1569. " yourselfe] you, edit. 1569. 
 
 44 no other] nother, 1st edit. 
 
 Si ronnying] running, 1st edit. 
 
 This is a mistake, the first edition reading ronnying, which is 
 the old spelling of running. Another error was committed in 
 printing it hitherto " running to Rome" the correct reading being 
 ' ronnying at Rome." C.
 
 THE FOUR PS. 
 
 65 
 
 Ryght selde is it sene, or never, 
 
 That treuth and pardoners dwell together, 
 
 For be your pardons never so great, 
 
 Yet them to enlarge ye wyll nat let, 
 
 With suche lyes, that ofttymes Cryste wot, 
 
 Ye seme to have that ye have nat. 
 
 Wherfore I went my selfe totheselfe thynge 
 
 In every place, and without faynynge : 
 
 Had as much pardon there assuredly, 
 
 As ye can promyse me here doutcfully. 
 
 Howe be it, I thynke ye do but scoffe : 58 
 
 But yf ye hadde all the pardon ye speak 57 of, 
 
 And no whyt of pardon graunted 
 
 In any place, where I have haunted: 
 
 Yet of my labour I nothynge repent; 
 
 God hathe respect how eche tyme is spent. 
 And as in his knowlege all is regarded : 
 
 So by his goodnes all is rewarded. 
 
 Pardoner. By the 58 fyrste parte of this last tale, 
 
 It seemeth ye came of late 59 from the ale. 
 
 For reason on your syde so farre doth fayle, 
 
 That ye leve reasoning, fio and begyn to rayle. 
 
 Wherin you 6 ' forget your owne part clerely 
 
 For you fia be as untrue as I : 
 
 And in one poynte ye are beyond e me, 
 
 For you 6S may lye by aucthoryte, 
 
 And all that have " 4 wandred so farre, 
 
 That no man can be theyr controller. 
 
 And where you 5 esteme your labour so muche ; 
 
 I say yet agayne my pardons are 66 suche, 
 
 That yf there were a thousand soules on a hepe, 
 
 07 1 wold brynge them all to heven, as good chepe, 
 
 46 scoffe] scofte, 1st edit. 57 xpejk] kepe, If t edit. 
 
 58 the] this, edit. 1569. 
 
 69 ye came of late] you come late, 1st edit. 
 
 60 rtasoning] sonyng, 1st edit. 6I i/ou] ye, 1st edit. 
 
 61 you] ye, 1st edit. 6:l (/<>] ye, 1st edit. 
 64 have] hatb, 1st edit. "I/UK] ye, Ibtedit. 
 68 are] be, 1st edit. 
 
 87 I wald brynge thtm all to htcen, as goodchtfte]. Cheap, as Dr. 
 Johnson observes, is market, and good cheap therefore is him marche.
 
 66 
 
 THE TOUR P S. 
 
 As ye have brought yourselfe on pylgrymage, 
 
 In the least 68 quarter of your vyage, 
 
 Which is 69 far a this side heaven, by god : 
 
 There your labour and pardon is od. 
 
 With smale cost and without any payne, 
 
 These pardons bring 70 them to heven playne, 
 
 Geve me but a peny or two pens, 
 
 And assone as the soule departeth hens, 
 
 In halfe an houre, or thre quarters at the raoste, 
 
 The soule is in heven ; with the holy ghost. 
 
 Poticary. Sende ye any souls to heaven by water? 
 Pardoner. If we doo, 71 sir, what is the mater ? 
 Poticary. By god, I have a drye soule shulde 
 thyther ; 
 
 I praye you let our soules go to heven togyther, 
 
 So bysy you twayne be in soules helth ; 
 
 May nat a potycary come in- by stelth? 
 
 Yes, that I wyl 7a , by saynt Antony, 
 
 And by the leve of thys company. 
 
 Prove ye false knaves bothe, ere 73 we goo, 
 
 In parte of your sayenges, as thys, lo, 
 
 Thou, by thy travayle, thynkest heaven to gete : 
 
 And thou by pardons and reliques countest no lete 74 , 
 
 To sende thyne owne soule to heaven sure ; 
 
 And all other whome thou lyste to procure. 
 
 The expression is very frequent in ancient writers, as in Church- 
 yard's Worthynex of Wales. Evans's Edition, 1776, p. S. 
 " Victuals good cheap in most part of Wales." 
 
 Euphues, 1581, p. 8. " Seeing thou wilt not buie counsayle at 
 " the first hande good cheape, thou shalt buy repentance at second 
 " hand, at such an unreasonable rate that thou wilt curse thy hard 
 " penyworth, and ban thy hard heart." 
 
 Dekkar's Belmatis Night-walks, H 4. " He buyes other men's 
 " cunning good cheap in London; and selsit deare in the couutrey." 
 
 See other instances in Mr. Steevens's Note on First Part nfKmg 
 Henry IV. A. 3. S. 3. 
 
 68 least] leste, 1st edit, least, edit, 1569. 
 
 And as least is probably the reading the author intended, and is 
 supported by both the old copies, it is restored ; the Pardoner 
 means in the smallest quarter of the Palmer's voyage. C. 
 
 69 is] as, 1st edit. 7 bring] bryngeth, 1st edit. 
 71 doo] dyd, 1st edit. 79 I wyl] we will, edit. 1569. 
 93 ere] or, 1st edit. 74 lete] i. e. hinderance.
 
 THE FOUR P'S. 67 
 
 If I toke an accyon, then Were they blanke; 
 
 For lyke theeves the knaves 75 rob away my thanke. 
 
 All soules in heven, havynge relefe, 
 
 Shall they thanke your craftes? nay, thanke myn 
 
 chefe. 
 
 No soule, ye knowe, entreth heven gate, 
 Tyll from the bodye he be separate ; 
 And whome have ye knowen dye honestly 76 , 
 Without helpe of the potycary ? 
 Nay, all that commeth to our handlynge, 
 Except ye happe to come to hangynge ; 
 That way, perchaunce, ye shall nat myster, 
 To go to heven without a glyster. 
 But be ye sure I wolde be wo 77 , 
 If 78 ye shulde chaunce to begyle me so. 
 As good to lye with me a nyght. 
 As hang abrode in the mone light. 
 There is no choyse to fle my hand, 
 But, as I sayd, into the bande. 
 Syns of our soules the multitude 
 I sende to heaven, when all is vewd, 
 Who shulde but I then all togyther, 
 Have thanke of all theyr comynge thyther ? 
 
 Pardoner. If ye kyl'd a thousande in an houre space, 
 When come they to heven dyenge out of grace 79 ? 
 
 Poticary. If a thousande pardons about your necks 
 
 were teyd ; 
 When come they to heven, yf they never dyed ? 
 
 Palmer. Long lyfe after good workes in dede 
 Doth hinder manne's receyt of mede; 
 And cleth before one dewty done, 
 May make us thynke we dye to sone. 
 
 75 rob] they rob, edit. 1569. 76 honestly] hostely, 1st edit. 
 
 77 / wolde be wo] To be woe, is often used by old writers, to sig- 
 nify to be sorry. So Shakspeare's Tempest, A. 5. S. 1. 
 
 I am woe for't, Sir. 
 Chaucer's Court of Lave : 
 
 " I woltle be wo, 
 
 " That 1 presume to her is writin so." 
 See Mr. Steevens's Note on Shakspeare, vol. \. p. 106. 
 
 78 //] That, edit. 1/)G9. 
 
 y dyerge vut of grace} from stats of .grace, 1st edit.
 
 68 THE FOUR p's. 
 
 Yet better tary a thing then ^ have it; 
 Then go to sone, and vaynly crave it. 
 
 Pardoner. The longer ye dwell in communicacion, 
 The lesse shall ye lyke thys ymagynacyon. 
 For ye 81 may perceyve even at the fyrst chop, 
 Your tale is trapt in such a stop. 
 That, at the leste, ye seme worse than we. 
 
 Poticary. By the masse, I holde us nought all 
 thre. 
 
 Pedler. By our lady, then have I gone wronge ; 
 And yet to be here I thought it longe. 
 
 Poticary. Brother, he have gone wrong no wyt, 
 I prayse your fortune and your wyt, 
 That can dyrecte you so discretely, 
 To plante you in this company. 
 Thou a palmer, and thou a pardoner, 
 I a poticary. 
 
 Pedler. And I a pedler. 
 
 Poticary. Nowe, on my fayth, ful well watched; 
 Where the devyll were we foure hatched ? 
 
 Pedler. Thatmaketh no matter, since we be matched, 
 I coulde be mery yf that I had catchyd 
 Some money for parte of the ware in my packe. 
 
 Poticary. What the devyll hast thou there at thy 
 back ? 
 
 Pedler. What dost thou nat knowe, that every 
 
 pedler 
 
 In all kinde of trifles 8 * must be a medler? 
 Specyally in women's tryflinges ; 
 Those use we cheefly 83 above all thinges. 
 Whiche thyngs to se, yf ye be disposed, 
 Beholde what ware here is disclosed ; 
 This gere sheweth itself in suche bewte, 
 That eche man thynketh "* it saith come bye me. 
 Loke where your self can lyke to be chooser, - 
 Yourselfe shall make pryce, though I be looser. 
 
 80 then] Mr. Dodsley reads, and. 8 ' ye] you, edit. 1569. 
 
 ** all kind of trifles] every tryfull, 1st edit. 83 cliee/ty] chefe, 
 1st edit. 84 thynketh] thinks, edit. 1569.
 
 THE FOUR P'S. 69 
 
 Is here 8 * nothynge for my father Palmer ? 
 
 Have ye nat a wanton in a corner? 
 
 For all your walkyng to holy places, 
 
 By cryste, 1 have herde of as straunge cases. 
 
 Who lyveth in love, and love wolde wynne, 
 
 Even at this packe he must begynne. 
 
 Wherin 86 is ryght many a proper token, 
 
 Of which by name parte shal be spoken : 
 
 Gloves, pynnes, combes, glasses unspottyd, 
 
 Pomanders, hookes, and lasses knotted 87 ; 
 
 Broches, rynges, and all manner of becles : 
 
 Laces 88 rounde and flat for women's hedes ; 
 
 89 Nedyls, threde, thymbell, shers, and all suche 
 
 knackes, 
 
 Where lovers be, no suche thynges lackes : 
 Sypers yo , swathbondes 91 , rybandes, and sieve laces, 
 Gyrdyls, knives, purses, and pyncases. 
 
 Poticary. Do women bye their pyncases of you ? 
 
 Pedler. Ye, that they do I make God a vow. 
 
 Poticary. So mot I thryve then for my parte, 
 I beshrewe thy knave's nakyd herte, 
 For makynge my wifeys pyncase so wyde, 
 The pynnes fall out, they cannat abyde: 
 Great pynnes she must have, one or other ; 
 Yf she lese one, she wyll fynde another. 
 Wherin I fynde cause to complayne ; 
 New pynnes to her pleasure, and to my payne. 
 
 i5 here] there, edit 1569. 
 
 Wherin] Where, 1st edit. 8? knntted] unknotted, edit. 
 
 1569. 
 
 88 Laces] Lace, 1st edit 
 
 *9 Needles, thred, thimbles, and such other knacks, Edit. 1569. 
 90 Sypers] i. e. Cyi/rus ; thin stuff of which women's veils were 
 made. So, in Shakspeare's Winter's Tale, A. 4. S. 3. 
 
 " Lawn as white as driven suow, 
 
 " Ci'/>rits black as any crow." 
 Again, in Twelfth Night: 
 
 " a cypna, not a bosom 
 
 " Hides my poor heart.'' S. 
 
 81 ywathbondM] i. e. rollers in which infants were swath'd. So, in 
 Timon of Athens. 
 
 " Had thou, like us from thy first swath, &c." S.
 
 70 THE FOUR 
 
 Pardoner. Syr, ye seme wel sene in women's causes 
 I praye you tell me, what causeth this : 
 That women after theyr arysynge 92 , 
 Be so longe in theyr apparelyng ? 
 
 Pedler. Forsoth, women have many lettes, 
 And they be masked in many nettes : 
 As frontlettes 93 , fyllettes, partlettes 94 , and bracelettes j 
 And then theyr bonettes and theyr poynettes 95 . 
 By these lettes and nettes, the lette is suche, 
 That spede is small, whan haste is muche. 
 
 Poticary. Another cause why they come natforwarde r 
 Whiche maketh them dayly to drawe backwarde ; 
 And yet 96 is a thynge they cannat forbere; 
 The trymmynge and pynnynge up theyr gere; 
 Specyally theyr fydling with the tayle pyn ; 
 And when they wolde have it prickt 97 in, 
 If it chaunce to double in the clothe, 
 99 Then be they 99 wode, and swere 100 an othe. 
 
 92 arysynge] uprising, edit. 1569. 
 
 93 frontlettes] Frontal Fr. A frontlet, or forehead-band. COTGRAVE. 
 A frontlet is mentioned as part of a woman's dress, in Lyly's 
 Midas, 1592 : " Hoods, frontlets, wires, cauls, curling irons, peri- 
 " wigs, bodkins, fillets,hair laces, ribbons, rolls, knotstrings, glasses, 
 &c. 
 
 See also Mr. Steevens's Note on King Lear, A. 1. S. 4. 
 
 94 partlettes] Buffs or bands for women. See Glossary to Dou- 
 glas's Translation of Virgil. 
 
 95 poynettes] Little bodkins or puncheons. Cotgrave, voce poin- 
 fmnet. 
 
 96 yet] it, edit. 1569. 
 
 97 prickt] prycke, 1st edit. 
 
 08 Then be they wode] Wode signifies mad, furious, or violent. So, 
 in Ascham's Toxophilus, Bennet's Edition, 4to. p. 86. " How will 
 " you thincke that such furiousnesse, with woode countenance, and 
 " brenninge eyes, with staringe and bragginge, witli hart redye to 
 " leape out of the bellye for swellinge, can be expressed the tenthe 
 " part to the uttermost." 
 
 Churchyard's Worthiness of Wales, p. 103. Evans's Edition, 1776. 
 It Howes with winde, although no rayne there bee, 
 And swelles like sea, with waves and foming flood : 
 A wonder sure, to see this river Dee, 
 With winde alone, to waxe so wyld and wood, 
 Make such a sturre, as water would be mad, 
 And shewe such life, as though some spreete it had." 
 99 they] they be, edit. 1569. m swere] swereth, 1st edit.
 
 THE FOUR P'S. 7t 
 
 Tyll it stande ryght they wyll not forsake it, 
 
 Thus though it may not, yet wolde 101 they make it. 
 
 But be ye sure they do but defarre it ; 
 
 For when they wolde make it, ofte times marre it. 
 
 But prycke them and pynne them as nyche * as ye wyll, 
 
 And yet wyll they loke for pynnynge styll. 
 
 So that I durste holde with you a joynt, 
 
 Ye shall never have them at a full 102 point. 
 
 Pedler. Let women's maters passe, and marke myne : 
 What ever theyr poyntes be, these poyntes be fyne. 
 Wherfore yf ye be wyllynge to bye, 
 Lay downe money, come off 103 quyckely. 
 
 Palmer. Nay, by my trouth, we be lyke fryers ; 
 We are but beggars, we be no byers. 
 
 Pardoner. Syr, ye may showe your ware for your 
 
 mynde. 
 But I thynke ye shall no profyte fynde. 
 
 Pedler. Well, though this journey acquyte no coste, 
 Yet thynke T nat my labour loste : 
 For by the fayth of my body, 
 I lyke ful well thys company. 
 Up shall this packe, for it is playne 
 I came not hyther al for gayne. 
 Who- may nat play one day in a weke, 
 May thynke hys thryfte is farre to seyke. 
 Devyse what pastyme that ye thynke beste, 
 And make ye sure to fynde me prest 104 . 
 
 101 wolde] wyl, edit. 1569. 
 
 Neither edition reads wyl, nor wil, but wolde. C. 
 * The oldest copy has it " as nyche as ye wyll," and the edition 
 of 1569, " as nie as ye wilt," perhaps the meaning is " as much as 
 " you will." C. 
 j oi/ u /] fall, 1st edit. 
 
 103 come off] i. e. pay down. See Note 65 to The Wits, 
 vol. VIII. p. 512. 
 
 10* prest] i. e. ready ; pret, FT. So, in Cxsar and Pompey, 1607: 
 
 " What must be, must be ; Csesar's prest for all." 
 See a Note on The Merchant of Venice, A. 1. S. 1. S. 
 Again, Churchyard's Challenge, 1593, p. 80. 
 
 " Then shall my mouth, my muse, my pen and all, 
 " Be prest to serve at each good subject's call." 
 Cynthia's Revels, A. 5. S..4. 
 
 " I am prest for the encounter."
 
 72 THE FOUK, 
 
 Poticary. Why ? be ye so unyversall, 
 That ye can do what so ever ye shall ? 
 
 Pedler. Syr, yf ye lyste for to oppose me ; 
 What I can do, then shall you se. 
 
 Poticary. Then tell me thys, are you perfyt in 
 
 drynkynge? 
 Pedler. Perfyt in drynkynge, as may be wysht by 
 
 thynkynge. 
 Poticary. Then after your drynking, how fall ye to 
 
 wynking ? 
 Pedler. Syr, after drynkynge, whyle the shot 105 is 
 
 tynkynge ; 
 Some hedes be swymmyng 106 , but myne will be 
 
 synkyng, 
 
 And upon drynkynge, my eyse will be pynkynge : 
 For wynkynge to drynkynge is alway lynkynge. 
 
 Poticary. Then drynke and slepe you can well do ; 
 But yf ye were desyred therto, 
 I pray you tell me, can you synge ? 
 
 Pedler. Syr, I have some syght in syngynge. 
 Poticary. 107 But is your brest any thynge swete? 
 
 10& shot] i. e. the reckoning. See Mr. Steevens's Note to Tht 
 First Part of King Henry IV. A. 5. S. 3. 
 
 Again, in Churchyard's Wcrrthyness of Wales: 
 " Behold besides, a further thing to note, 
 " The best cheap cheare they have that may be found ; 
 " The shot is great when each mans pais his groate, 
 " If all alike the reckoning runneth round." 
 
 106 swymmyng] The second edition reads, twynking. See Note 
 26 to Gammer Gurtons Needle, vol. II. 
 
 107 But is your brest any thynge swete] In Sir John Hawkins's 
 History of Mustek, vol. III. p. 466. a passage, in Tusser's Five Hun- 
 dred Points of Husbandry, 1580, is cited; in which this line occurs : 
 
 " The better brest, the lesser rest ;" 
 
 upon which he makes this observation : " In singing the sound is 
 ' originally produced by the action of the lungs ; which are so 
 ' essential an organ in this respect, that to have a good breast was 
 ' formerly a common periphrasis to denote a good singer. The 
 ' Italians. make use of the terms Voce di Petto, and Voce di Testa, to 
 ' signify two kinds of voice, of which the first is the best. In 
 ' Shakespeare's Comedy of Twelfth Night, after the Clown, i$ 
 ' asked to sing, Sir Andrew Aguecheek says, 
 
 " By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast." 
 " And in the statutes of Stoke College, in Suffolk, founded by
 
 THE FOUR P'S. 73 
 
 Pedler. What ever my breste be, my voyce is mete. 
 
 Poticary. That answere sheweth you a ryght syng- 
 
 ynge man. 
 Now what is your wyll, good father, than ? 
 
 Palmer. What helpeth wyll, where is no skyll? 
 
 Pardoner. And what helpeth skyll, where is no wil 108 ? 
 
 Poticary, For wyll or skyll what helpeth it, 
 Where frowarde knaves be lackynge wit 109 ? 
 Leve of thys curyosytie, 
 And who that lyste, synge after me. [Here they synge. 
 
 Pedler. Thys lyketh me wel, so mot I the. 
 
 Pardoner. So helpe me god, it lyketh nat me. 
 Where company is met and well agreed, 
 Good pastyrne doth ryght well in dede. 
 But who can syt in dalyaunce, 
 Men syt in suche a variaunce ? 
 As we were set, or no ye came in, 
 Whiche stryfe thys man dyd fyrst begynne; 
 Allegynge that suche men as use 
 For love of god, and not 111 refuse 
 On fot to goo from place to place 
 
 A pylgrimage, callynge for grace, 
 
 i 
 
 " Parker, Archbishop of Canterbury, is a provision hi these words: 
 " Of which said queristers, after their breasts are changed (i. e. 
 " their voices broke,) we will the most apt of wit and capacity be 
 " helpen with exhibitions of forty shillings," &c. 
 
 See also the Notes of Mr. Wartoa and Mr. Steevens to Twelfth 
 Night, A. 2. S. 3. 
 
 Again, in Middleton's More Dissemblers besides Women, A. 1. S. 1. 
 Dondolo after a song by his Page, says, " Oh rich, ravishing, rare, 
 " and inticing. Well, go thy ways, for as sweet a brested page as 
 " ever lay at his master's feet in a truckle-bed." 
 Women beware of Women, A. 3. S. 2. 
 Duke. " Yea the voice too, sir?" 
 Fab. " I and a sweet brent too, my lord, I hope, 
 " Or I have cast away my money wisely." 
 
 Yet in the very next line of the text, the Pedlar seems to take a 
 distinction between the breast and the voice, which induces the 
 Poticary to observe, 
 
 " That answere sheweth you a ryght syngynge man." C. 
 'o 8 wil] wyt, 1st edit. '<* wit] wyll, 1st edit. 
 
 110 or] ere. See Note 48 to Gammer Gurton's Needle, vol. II. 
 
 111 and not] not and, 1st edit.
 
 74 THE FOUR P'S. 
 
 Shall in that payne with penitence, 
 
 Obtayne discharge of conscyence : 
 
 Comparynge that lyfe for the beste 
 
 Enduccyon to your endles rest. 
 
 Upon these wordes * our mater grewe : 
 
 For yf he coulde avow them true, 
 
 As good to be a gardener. 
 
 As for to be a pardoner. 
 
 But when I harde hym so farre wyde, 
 
 I then aproched and replyed : 
 
 Sayenge this, that this 112 indulgence, 
 
 Havyng the foresaid penitence, 
 
 Dyschargeth man of all offence, 
 
 With muche more profyt then this pretence. 
 
 I aske but two pens at the moste ; 
 
 I wys this is nat very great coste, 
 
 And from ll3 all payne without dyspayre, 
 
 My soule for his kepe 11S * even his chayre, 
 
 And when he dyeth, he may be sure 
 
 To come to heven even at pleasure. 
 
 And more then heven he can 114 nat get, 
 
 How farre so ever he lyste to jet. 
 
 Then is hys payne more then hys wit, 
 
 To walke U5 to heven, syns he may syt. 
 
 Syr, as we were in this contencion, 
 
 In came thys daAv with hys invencyon ; 
 
 Revelynge us, hymselfe avauntynge, 
 
 That all the soules to heven assendynge, 
 
 Are most boundc to the poticary, 
 
 Bycause he helpeth moste men to dye 
 
 Before whiche deth he sayeth in dede, 
 
 No soule in heven can have hys mede. 
 
 Pedler. Why, do poticaries kyll men ? 
 
 Poticary. By God, men say so now and then. 
 
 Pedler. Ant! I thought ye wolde nat have myt 
 To make them lyve as longe as ye lyste. 
 
 * Hitherto misprinted, 
 
 " Upon these workes our mater giewe." C. 
 
 112 this] his, edit. l/s69. from] for, edit. 1569. 
 
 113 * his kepe] for to keep even in his chair, edit. 1569. 
 
 114 can] mny, edit. 1569. n * ualke] wake, 1st edit.
 
 THE FOUR P'S. 75 
 
 Poticary. As longe as we lyste ? nay, as longe as 
 they can. 
 
 Pedler. So myght we lyve without you than. 
 
 Poticary. Ye, but yet it is llc necessary 
 For to have a poticary : 
 For when ye fele your conscyens redy, 
 I can sende you to heven" 7 quyckly. 
 Wherfore concernynge our mater here, 
 Above these twayne I am best, clere; 
 And yf ye * lyste to take me so, 
 I am content : you and no mo 
 Shal be our judge, as in thys case, 
 Whiche of us thre shall take the best place. 
 
 Pedler. I neyther wyll judge the beste nor worste; 
 For be ye bleste or be ye curste, 
 Ye know it is no whyt my sleyght, 
 To be a judge in maters of weyght. 
 It behoveth no pedlers nor proctours, 
 To take on them judgemente as doctours : 
 But yf your myndes be onely set 
 To worke for soule helthe, ye be well met ; 
 For eche of you somwhat doth showe 
 That soules towarde heven by you doe growe. 
 Then yf ye can so wel agree, 
 To contynue togyther all thre ; 
 And all you thre obay one wyll, 
 Then all your myndes ye mayfulfyll. 
 As yf ye came all to one man, 
 Who shulde goo pylgrymage 118 more then he can ? 
 In that ye palmer, as debite, 
 May clerely dyscharde hym, parde ; 
 And for all other syns,ones had contryssyon, 
 Your pardons geveth hym full remyssyon. 
 
 116 yet it is] it is very, edit. 1 569. 
 
 "7 very] added in edit. 1569. 
 
 * The first edition reads, 
 
 " And if he. lyste to take me so." 
 
 which is altered in the edit, of 1569, to ye, and it is probably 
 ri^ht. C. 
 
 us iJndde giv pulgrymage] should go on pilgrimage, edit. 1569.
 
 76 THE FOtJR P'S. 
 
 And then ye mayster-poticary, 
 
 May sende hym to heven by and by. 
 
 Poticary. Yf he taste this boxe nye aboute the 
 
 pryrae, 
 
 By the masse, he is in heven or even songe tyme. 
 My craft is suche, that I can ryght w.ell 
 Sende my fryndes to heven, and myselfe to hell. 
 But, syrs, inarke this man, for he is wyse, 
 119 Who coulde devyse suche a devyse : 
 For yf we thre may be as one, 
 Then be we 1CO lordes everychone ; 
 Betwene us all coulde nat be myste, 
 To save the soules of whome we lyste. 
 But for good order, at a worde, 
 Twayne of us must wayte on the thyrde. 
 And unto that I do agree, 
 191 For bothe you twayne. shall wayt on me. 
 
 Pardoner. What chaunce is this, that suche an elf 
 Commaund two knaves besyde himself? 
 Nay, nay, my frende, that wyll nat be ; 
 I am to good to wayt on the. 
 
 Palmer. By our lady, and I wolde be loth 
 To wayt on the better of you both. 
 
 Pedler. Yet be ye sewer, for all thys dout, 
 This waytynge must be brought about. 
 Men cannat prosper wylefully ledde ; 
 All thyng decay 1W where is no hedde. 
 Wherfore doutlesse, marke what I say, 
 To one of you thre, twayne mufet obey. 
 And synnes ye cannat agree in voyce 
 Who shall be hed, there is no choyce 
 
 19 Who] Howe, 1st edit. 
 
 150 be we] were we as, edit. 1569. 
 
 m For boihe, &c.] First edition reads, 
 For botlie you twayue shall wayt on me. 
 What chaunce is this, that suche an elfe 
 Commaunded two knaves be besyde himselfe. 
 
 Both editions have it so, and the alteration was made by Dods- 
 ley and followed by Reed, although it is by no means necessary to 
 the due understanding of the passage. C. 
 
 123 things decay'] thynge decayed, 1st. edit. 
 
 3
 
 THE FOUR P'S. 77 
 
 But to devyse some maner thynge, 
 
 VVherin ye all be lyke connynge; 
 
 And in the same who can do beste, 
 
 The other twayne to make them preste, 
 
 In every thynge of hys entente, 
 
 43 Holy to be at commaundement. 
 
 And now have I fbunde one mastry, 194 
 
 That ye can do indyfferently ; 
 
 And is nother sellynge nor byenge, 
 
 But evyn onely very lyenge 
 
 And all ye thre can lye as well, 
 
 As can the falsest devyll in hell. 
 
 And though afore ye harde me grudge, 
 
 In greater maters to be your judge, 
 
 Yet in lyenge I can some skyll,* 
 
 And yf I shall be judge, I wyll. 
 
 And be you sure without flatery, 
 
 Where my consciens fyndeth the mastrye, 
 
 Ther shall my judgement strayt be founde, 
 
 Though I myght wynne a thousande pounde. 
 
 Palmer. Syr, for lyeng though I can do it : 
 Yet am I loth for to goo to it. 
 
 Pedler. Ye have no 125 cause to fear, be bolde, 186 
 For ye may here 127 lie uncontrolde. 
 And ye in this have good avauntage, 
 For lyeng is your comen usage. 
 And you in lyenge be well spedde, 
 For all your craft doth stande in falshed. 
 
 123 Holy] Holly, 1st edit. 
 
 124 one mastry] i. e. one magisterium ; a chymical term expres- 
 sive of the highest powers of transmutation, and sometimes used 
 for any masterly performance. S. 
 
 Mastery seems here used in the sense of mystery or trade, 
 which is derived from the French mestier and that perhaps from 
 magisterium. See Warton Hist. Engl. Poetry. HI. xxxvii. C. 
 
 * Both the old copies agree in reading, 
 
 " Yet in lyenge, I can some skyll" 
 which has hitherto been altered to 
 
 " Yet in lyenge I can boste some skyll." 
 
 a word having been foisted in as if the former editors were not 
 aware that " I can some skyll," was a phrase of the time and per- 
 fectly intelligible. C. 
 
 >'-'> NO] not, 1st edit. 12s Mwlde] beholde, edit. 1569. 
 
 l -^< TTUIIJ here] may here, 1st edit, may lie, edit. 1569.
 
 78 THE FOUR P'S. 
 
 Ye nede nat care who shall begyn ; 
 For eche of you may hope to wyn. 
 Now speke all thre evyn as ye fynde. 
 Be ye agreed to folowe my mynde ? 
 
 Palmer. Ye, by my trouth, I am contente. 
 
 Pardoner. Now, in good fayth, and I assente. 
 
 Poticary. If I denyed, I were a nody ; 
 For all is myne, by goddes body, 
 
 [Here the poticary hoppeth. 
 
 Palmer. Here were a hopper to hop for the rynge ! 
 But, syr 128 , this gere goth nat by hoppynge. 
 
 Poticary. Syr, in thys hoppynge I wyll hop so well* 
 That my tonge shall hop better Ia9 then my hele : 
 Upon whiche hoppynge, I hope and nat doute it, 
 To hop 130 so, that ye shall hop 131 without it*. 
 
 Palmer. Syr, I wyll neyther boste ne brawlU 
 But take suche fortune as may fall : 
 And if ye wynne this mastry, 
 I wyll obaye you quietly : 
 And sure I thynke that quietnesse 
 In any man is great rychesse, 
 In any maner company, 
 To rule or be ruled m indifferently. 
 
 Pardoner. By that bost thou semest a begger in 
 
 dede, 
 
 What can thy quyetnesse helpe us at nede? 
 Yf we shulde starve, thou hast nat, I thynke, 
 One peny to bye us one potte of drynke. 
 Nay yf richesse myghte rule the roste, 
 Beholde what cause I have to boste : 
 Lo, here be l33 pardons halfe a dosyn, 
 For gostely ryches they have no cosyn. 
 And more over to me they brynge 
 Sufficient succour for my lyvynge. 
 
 " S8 syr] sirs, edit. 1569. 159 better] as well as, 1st edit. 
 
 i 30 hop] Lope, 1st edit. U1 hop] hope, 1 st edit. 
 
 The word it is omitted in the first edition, but is necessary for 
 the rhyme. C. 
 
 132 be ruled] to be rulde, edit. 1569. 
 
 133 here be] hete are, edit. 1569..
 
 THE FOUR P'S. 79 
 
 And here be 134 relykes of suche akynde, 
 
 As in this world no man can m fynde, 
 
 Knelc downe all thre, and when ye leve kyssynge, 
 
 Who lyste to offer shall have my blyssynge. 
 
 Frendes, here shall ye se evyn anone, 
 
 Of all Hallowes the blessyd jaw bone 135 , 
 
 Kys it hardely with good devocion. 
 
 Poticary. Thys kysse shall brynge us muclie pro- 
 
 mocyon. 
 
 Fogh, by saynt savyour I never kyst a wars ; 
 Ye were as good kysse all Hallowe's ars ; 
 For by all Hallowes, yet me thynketh, 
 That all Hallowe's breth stynketh. 
 
 Palmer. Ye judge all Hallowe's breth unknowen : 
 Yf any breth stynke, it is your owne. 
 
 Poticary. I knowe myne owne breth from all 
 
 Hallowes, 
 Or els it were tyme to kysse the galows. 
 
 Pardoner. Nay syrs, beholde, here may ye se 
 The great toe of the trinite, 
 Who to thys toe any money voweth, 
 And ones may role it in his moueth, 
 All hys lyfe after, I undertake, 
 lS7 He shall never be vext with the tooth ake. 
 
 Poticary. I praye you torne that relyke aboute : 
 138 Either the Trinite had the goute, 
 Or elles, bycause it is iii. toes in one, 
 God made it asmuche l39 as thre toes alone. 
 
 Pardoner. Well, lette that passe, and loke upon 
 
 thys. 
 
 Here is a relyke that doth nat mys 
 To helpe the leste as well as the moste : 
 This is a buttocke-bone of Pentecoste. 
 
 134 be} are, edit. 1569. I3S can] may, edit. 1.569. 
 
 136 All halloires, the blessyd jaw-hme] All hallowes is All Saints. 
 Mr. Steevens, in his note on The Pint Pa.it of King Henry IV, A. 1. 
 S. 2. remarks on the absurdity of appropriating a word formed to 
 express a community of saints to a particular one of the number. 
 
 137 He shall never be vc.it with the tooth ake.] He shall be ryd of the 
 toth ake, 1st edit. 
 
 lil8 Either] Other, 1st edit. 13U asmuche] muche, 1st edit.
 
 THE FOUR P S. 
 
 Poticary. By christe, and yet for all your boste, 
 This relyke hath be shyten the roste. 
 
 Pardoner. Mark well thys relyke here is a whipper, 
 My Trends 140 unfayned, here 141 is a slypper 
 Of one of the seven slepers be sure ua . 
 Doutlesse thys kys shall do you great pleasure ; 
 For all these two dayes it shall so ease you, 
 That none other savours shall displease you. 
 
 Poticary. All these two dayes ! nay, all these Ms two 
 
 yere; 
 
 For all the savours that may come here 
 Can be no worse ; for at a worde, 
 One of the seven slepers trode in a torde. 
 
 Pedler. Syr, me thynketh your devocyon is but 
 smal. 
 
 Pardoner. Small ! mary me thynketh he hath none 
 at all. 
 
 Poticary. What the devyll care I what ye thinke ? 
 Shall I prayse relykes when they stynke? 
 
 Pardoner. Heer is an eye toth of the great Turke. 
 Whose eyes be ones sette on thys pece of worke, 
 May happely lese parte of his eye-syght, 
 But nat tyll he be blynde out ryght. 
 
 Poticary. What so ever any other man seeth, 
 I have no-devocyon unto 144 Turkes teeth : 
 For although I never sawe a greter, 
 Yet me thynketh I have sene many better. 
 
 Uo frendes] freend, edit. 1569. ul here] this, 1569. 
 
 142 One of the seven slepers be sure.] These seven slepers are 
 said to have lived at Ephesus in the time of the emperor Decian. 
 Being commanded to sacrifice according to the Pagan manner, 
 they fled to a cave in mount Ceylon, where they fell asleep, and 
 continued in that state 372 years, as is asserted by some, though 
 according to others only 208 years. They awoke in the reign of 
 the emperor Theodosian, who, being informed of this extraordinary 
 event, came from Constantinople to see them, and to satisfy himself 
 of the truth of the relation. Having communicated to him the 
 several circumstances of their case, they all, as the Legenda Aurea 
 expresses it, " enclyned theyr hedes to th' erth, and rendred their 
 " spyrites at the commaundement of our Lorde Jesu Cryst, and soo 
 " deyed." See Legenda Aurea, 196. 
 
 143 these] thys, Jst edit. m to, 1st edit.
 
 THE FOUR P'S. 81 
 
 Pardoner. Here is a box f ul of humble bees, 
 That stonge Eve as she sat on her knees, 
 Tastyngc the frute to her forbydden. 
 Who kysseth the bees within this hydden, 
 Shall have as muche pardon of ryght, 
 As for any relyke he kyst thys nyght. 
 
 Palmer. Syr, I will kysse them with all my herte. 
 
 Poticnry. Kysse them agayne, and take my parte, 
 For I am nat woorthy : nay, lette be, 
 Those bees that stonge Eve shall nat stynge me. 
 
 Pardoner. Good frendes, I have yet here Uf> in thys 
 
 glas, 
 
 Which on the drynke at the weddynge was 
 Of Adam and Eve nndoutedly. 
 If ye honor this relyke devoutly, 
 Although ye thurste no whyt the lesse, 
 Yet shall ye drynke the more, doubtlesse : 
 After whyche drynkynge ye shall be as mete 
 To stande on your hede as on your fete. 
 
 Poticary. Ye mary, now I con 146 you thanke l47 ; 
 In presens of thys the rest be blanke. 
 Wolde God thys relyke had come rather: 
 Kysse that relyke well, good father. 
 Suche is the payne that ye palmers take, 
 To kysse the pardon bowle for the drynke sake. 
 O holy yeste, that loketh full sowr and stale, 
 For goddes body, helpe me to a cuppe of ale. 
 The more I beholde l48 the, the more I thurste : 
 The oftener I kysse the, the more lyke to burste. 
 But sins I kysse the so devoutely, 
 Hyre me* and helpe me \vith drynke tyll I dye. 
 What, so muche prayeing and so lytell spede? 
 
 Pardoner. Ye, for God knoweth whan it is nede 
 
 145 yet, edit. 1569. Jl can, 1st edit. 
 
 * 4 ? con lion thanke.] See note 34 to trimmer Gitrton's Needle, 
 
 TOl. II. 
 
 us beholde] see, edit. 1569. 
 
 * Hyre me is hear me, and afterwards we meet with this line, 
 
 " But answered you, and geven you hyring'.'' ('. 
 VOL. i. c
 
 82 THE FOUR P'S. 
 
 Tosende folkes drynke ; but by saynt Antony, 
 I wene he hath sent you to muche all redy. 
 
 Poticary. If I have never the more for the, 
 Then 'be thy relykes no ryches to me ; 
 Nor to thy selfe, excepte they be 
 More benefycyall then I can se. 
 Rycher is one boxe of this tryacle 4> , 
 Then all thy relykes, that do no myrakelj. 
 If thou haddest prayed but halfe so muche to me, 
 As I have prayed to thy relykes and the, 
 Nothynge concernynge myne occupacion, 
 But streyght shulde have wrought one 150 operation : 
 And as in value I pas you an ace, 
 So here lyeth muche rychesse in lytell space. 
 I have a boxe of rebarb here, 
 Whiche is as deynty as it is dere. 
 151 So helpe me god, and hollydam, 
 Of this I wolde notgeve a dram 
 To the beste frende I have in Englande's grounde, 
 Though he wolde give me xx pounde. 
 For though the stomake do it abhor, 
 It pourget you clene from the color ; 
 And maketh your stomake sore to waiter, 
 That ye shall never come to the halter. 
 
 Pedler. Then is that rnedycyn a soverayn thinge, 
 To preserve a man from hangynge. 
 
 Poticary. If ye wyll taste but thys crome that ye see, 
 If ever ye be hanged never truste me. 
 Here have I diapompholicus, 
 A speciall oyntement, as doctours discuse, 
 For a fistela or for a canker: 
 158 Thys oyntement is even shot anker ; 
 
 149 tryacle] theriaca, a remedy against poison. Blount. 
 
 The word triacle is also not unfrequently used for a balsam, or 
 indeed any kind of infallible or powerful medicine. C. 
 
 140 one] in, 1st edit. i 41 So] Addition. " 
 
 The word so is no addition, but is found in both the old copies. 
 
 C. 
 
 154 Thys oyntement is even shot anker.] I should suppose we 
 ought to read sheet anchor. The sheet anchor is the largest belonging 
 to a ship, and is the last refuge of mariners ; for when that fails to 
 take hold of the ground, the vessel is left at the mercy of the
 
 THE FOUR P'S. 83 
 
 For this medecyn 1SS helpeth one and other, 
 
 Or bringeth them in case that they nede no other. 
 
 Here is a syrapus de Byzansis, 
 
 A lytell thynge is inough of this ; 
 
 For even the weyghtof one scryppall, 
 
 Shall '** make you as strong as a cryppull. 
 
 Here are other, as diosfialios, 
 
 Diagalanga and sticados, 
 
 Blanka, manna, diospoliticon, 
 
 Mercury sublyme, and .netridaticon ; 
 
 Pellitory, and arsefetita; 
 
 Cassy, and colloquintita. 
 
 These be 155 the thynges that breke all stryfe 
 
 Betwene manne's sycknes and his lyfe. 
 
 From all payne these shall you delever, 
 
 And set you even at reste for ever. 
 
 Here is a medecyn no mo lyke the same ; 
 
 Whiche comenly is called thus by name, 
 
 Alikakabus or Alkakengy, 
 
 A goodly thynge for dogges that be i 56 rnangy. 
 
 Suche be these medycynes, that I can 
 
 Helpe a dogge as wel as a man. 
 
 Nat one thynge here partycularly, 
 
 But worketh universally; 
 
 For it doth me as muche good when I sell it, 
 
 As all the byers that taste it, or smell it. 
 
 Now syns my medycyns be so speciall, 
 
 And in one operacion so general], 
 
 And redy to worke when so ever they shall, 
 
 So that in ryches I am principall ; 
 
 If any rewarde may entreat ye, 
 
 I besech your masshyp be good to >97 me, 
 
 And ye shall have a boxe of marmelade, 
 
 So fyne that you may dyg it with a spade. 
 
 Pedler. Syr, I thankeyou, but your rewarde 
 Is nat the thynge that I regarde : 
 
 storm. The sheet anchor was called by the ancients, anchora tacra ; 
 and by the French maitresse ancre. S. 
 
 153 medecyti] oyntment, edit. 1569. I5) Slialf] Wil, edit. 1569. 
 
 1M be] are, edit. 1569. '* fa] are, edit. 1569. 
 
 157 to] unto, edit. 1 569.
 
 84 THE FOUR P'S. 
 
 I muste and wyll be indifferent. 
 Wherfore precede in your intente. 
 
 Poticary. Nowe yf I wyst thys wysh no synne, 
 I wolde to God I myght begynne. 
 
 Pardoner. I am content that thou lye fyrste. 
 
 Palmer. Even so. am I ; now 158 say thy worste. 
 Now let us here of all thy lyes, 
 The greatest lye thou mayst devyse. 
 And in the fewyst wordes thou can. 
 
 Poticary. Forsoth, ye be 1M an honest man. 
 
 Pedler. There sayde ye muche, but yet uo lye. 
 
 Pardoner. Now lye ye bothe, by our lady. 
 Thou lyest in bost of hys honestie, 
 And he hath lyed in affynninge the. 
 
 Poticary. Yf we both lye, and ye say true, 
 Then of these lies your parte adew : 
 And if ye wyn, make none avaunt, 
 For you are sure of one yll servaunte. 
 You may perceyve by the wordes he gave, 
 He taketh your inashyp 16 but for a knave. 
 But who tolde truthe 16 ' or lyed in dede, 
 That wyll I knowe or 162 we precede. 
 Syr, after that I fyrste began 
 To prayseyou for an honest man, 
 When ye affyrroed it for no lye 163 , 
 Now, by your |B4 fayth, speke even truely ; 
 Thought ye your affyrmacyion true ? 
 
 Palmer. Ye mary, for I wolde ye knewe, 
 I thynke my selfe an honest man. 
 
 Poticary. What thought ye in the contrary than ? 
 
 Pardoner. In that I sayde the contrary, 
 I thynke from trouth I dyd nat vary. 
 
 Poticary. And what of my wordes? 
 
 Pardoner. I thought ye lyed. 
 
 Poticary. And so thought I, by god^that dyed. 
 
 148 now] and, 1st edit. IM ye be] you are, edit. 1569. 
 
 160 your mashyp] i. e. your mastership. S. 
 
 1 61 truthe] true, 1st edit. u * or] ere, edit. 1569. 
 i 6 ' 1 for to lye] for no lie, edit. 1569. 
 
 " 4 your] our, 1st edit.
 
 THE 1'OUU P S. 
 
 85 
 
 Nowe have you twayne eche for hym selfe layde, 
 
 That none '* hath lyed, but bothe true sayd : 
 
 And of us twayne none hath denyed, 
 
 But bothe affyrmed that I have lyed. 
 
 Now syns bothe ye ' e6 the trouth confes, 
 
 167 How that I lyed, doo bear witnes. 
 
 That twain of us may soon agree, 
 
 And that the Iyer the wynner must be, 
 
 Who coulde provyde suche evydens, 
 
 As I have done in this pretens? 
 
 Me thynketh this mater sufficient 
 
 To cause you to gyve judgement; 
 
 And to gyve me the mastrye, 
 
 For ye perceyve these knaves can nat lye. 
 
 Palmer. Though neyther 168 of us as yet had Ived, 
 Yet what we can do is untryed ; 
 For as yet we have devysed nothynge, 
 But answered you, and geven you hyring. 
 
 Pedler. Therfore I have devysed one waye, 
 Wherby all thre your mindes may saye. 
 For eche of you one tale shall tell, 
 And whiche of you telleth most mervell, 
 And most unlikest 1C9 to be true, 
 Shall most prevayle, what ever ensew. 
 
 Poticary. If ye be set on mervaylynge, 
 Then shall ye here a mervaylouse thynge. 
 And though in dede all be nat true, 
 Yet suer the most parte shall be new. 
 I dyd a cure no longer ago, 
 But in Anno domini millesimo, 
 On a woman yonge and so fayre, 
 That never have I sene a gayre. 
 God save all women of 170 that lyknes. 
 This wanton had the fallen syknes, 
 
 165 nme] one, edit. J569. 166 ye] your, 1st edit. 
 
 167 How, &c.] First edition reads, 
 
 And that we both my lye so witnes, 
 
 That twayne of us thre in one agree. 
 
 i 8 neytliei-] nother, 1st edit. l69 unlikest] unlyke, 1st. edit. 
 
 170 of] from, 1st edit.
 
 86 THE FOUR P'S 
 
 Whiche by dissent came lynyally, 
 
 For her mother had it naturally : 
 
 Wherfore this woman to recure, 
 
 It was more harde ye may be sure. 
 
 But though I boste my crafte is suche, 
 
 That in suche thynges I can do mnche : 
 
 How ofte she fell were muche to reporte, 
 
 But her bed so gydy and her helys so shorte, 
 
 That with the twynglynge of an eye, 
 
 Downe wolde she falle evyn by and by. 
 
 But or ' 7 ' she wolde aryse agayne, 
 
 I shewed muche practyse muche to my payne. 
 
 For the tallest man within thys towne 
 
 Could > 72 nat with ease have broken her swowne. 
 
 Although for lyfe I dyd nat doute her, 
 
 Yet I Ayd take more paines l73 about her, 
 
 Then I wolde take with my owne syster. 
 
 Syr, at the last I gave her a glyster : 
 
 174 1 thrust a thampyon in her tewell, 
 
 And bad her kepe it for a Jewell ; 
 
 But I knew there 174 * it was to heevy to cary, 
 
 That I sure was it wolde nat tary : , \ 
 
 "' or] ere, edit. 1569. 
 
 'W Could] Shulde, 1st edit. 173 paines] payne, 1st edit. 
 
 174 I trust a thampyon in her tewel] The allusion is to gunnery. 
 Thampion (tampon, Fr. a bung, cork, or plug of wood) is now writ- 
 ten tampion, and signifies the stopper with which the mouths of 
 cannon are closed up, to prevent the admission of rain, or sea- 
 water, whereby their charges might be rendered incapable of ser- 
 vice. A tewel (tuyau or tuyal, Fr.) is a pipe ; and is here used (for 
 the sake of continuing the metaphor) for bore or caliber. Moxon, 
 in his Mechanick Exercises, defines the tewel to be that pipe in a 
 smith's forge into which the nose of the bellows is introduced ; and 
 in a Ms. fragment, said to be written by Sir Francis Drake, con- 
 cerning the stores of one of the ships under his command, the 
 word tewel is applied to a gun. S. 
 
 In Lambarde's Dictionarium Topographicum fy Historicum, p. 129. 
 it is said, "It happened in the reigne of Quene Marye, that the 
 ' master of a shippe passings by while the court lay theare, and 
 ' meaning (as the manner is) with, sayle and shot to honour the 
 ' place, unadvisedly gave fire to a piece charged with a stone in- 
 ' stede of a tampion, which lightinge on the Quene's house 
 ' ranne throughe a chamber, and did no further harnie."
 
 THB FOUR P'S. 87 
 
 For where gonpouder is ones fyerd, 
 
 The Thampyon wyll no lenger be hyerd : 
 
 Whiche was well sene in tyme of thys chaunce, 
 
 For when I had charged this ordynaunce, 
 
 Sodeynly, as it had thonder'd, 
 
 Even at a clap losed her bumberd 175 . 
 
 Now marke, for here begynneth the revell : 
 
 This thampion flew x longe myle levell, 
 
 To a fayre castell of lyme and stone, 
 
 For strength 1 know nat suche a one, 
 
 Whiche stode upon a hyll full hye, 
 
 At fote wherof a ryver ranne bye, 
 
 So depe tyll chaunce had it forbyden, 
 
 178 Well might the regent there have ryden. 
 
 But when this thampyon at this 177 castle did lyght, 
 
 It put the castel so farre to flyght, 
 
 That dovvne they came eche upon Other, 
 
 No stone lefte standynge by goddes mother, 
 
 But rolled downe so faste the hyll 
 
 In suche a nomber, and so dyd fyll 
 
 From botom to bryme, from shore to shore, 
 
 Thys foresayd ryver, so depe before, 
 
 Our antiquary writes like one unacquainted with his subject, 
 no man, I believe, ever talked ef charging a gun with a tampion ; 
 neither would the said tampion (consisting of a piece of hard oak) 
 have done much less mischief than a stone, if pointed from the 
 Thames at the Queen's Palace at Greenwich. S. 
 
 H4* there] A ddition in the 2d edit. 
 
 i? 3 bu,inberd~] A piece of ordnance. S. 
 
 I7fl Well myght the recent there have ryden] Tlie Regent was one of 
 the largest ships of war in the time of King Henry the Eighth. In 
 the fourth yt-ar of his reign, Sir Thomas Knevet, master of the 
 horse, and Sir John Carew, of Devoushire, were appointed captains 
 of her, and in company with several others she was sent to fight 
 the French fleet near Brest haven. An action accordingly ensued, 
 and the llegent grappled with a French Carrick, which would 
 have been taken had not a gunner on board the vessel, to prevent 
 her falling into the hands of the English, set fire to the powder- 
 room. This communicating the flames to both ships, they shared 
 the same fate together, being both burnt. On the part of the 
 French 900 men were lost ; and on that of the English more than 
 700. See Hall's Chronicle, tempore Henry Vlll. fol. 21, 
 
 177 this] on thys castell lyght, 1st edit.
 
 THE FOUR P S. 
 
 That who lyste nowe to walke thereto, 
 
 May wade it over and wet no shoo. 
 
 So was thys castell layd wyde open, 
 
 That every man myght se the token. 
 
 But in a good houre maye these wordes 178 be 
 
 spoken : 
 
 After the thampyon on the walles was wroken, 
 And pece by pece in peces broken. 
 And she delyvered, with suche violens, 
 Of all her inconveniens, 
 I left her in good helth and luste ; 
 And so she doth contynew, I truste. 
 
 Pedler. Syr, in your cure I can nothynge tell ; 
 But to your m purpose ye have sayd well. 
 
 Pardoner. Well, syp, then marke what I can 
 
 say 
 
 I have ben a pardoner many a day, 
 And done greater * cures gostely, 
 Then ever he dyd bodely. 
 Namely thys one, whiche ye shall here, 
 Of one departed within thys seven yere, 
 A frende of myne, and lykewyse I 
 To her agayne was as frendly : 
 Who fell so syke so sodeynly, 
 That dede she was even by and by, 
 And never spake with preste nor clerke, 
 Nor had no whyt of thys holy warke ; 
 For I was thens, it coulde nat be, 
 Yet harde I say she asked for me. 
 But when I bethought me howe thys chaunced, 
 And that I have to heven avaunced 
 So many soules to me but straungers, 
 And coude nat kepe my frende from daungers, 
 But she to dy so daungerously, 
 For her soule helth especyally ; 
 
 '78 these] this, edit. 1569. 
 'W j/or] our, 1st. edit. 
 * the edit, of 1569 has this line, , 
 " And done more cures ghostely." C.
 
 THE FOUR P'S. 89 
 
 That was the thynge that greved me soo, 
 
 That nothynge could release my woo, 
 
 Tyll I had tryed even out of hande, 
 
 In what estate her soule dyd stande. 
 
 For whiche tryall, shorte tale to make, 
 
 I toke thys journey for her sake. 
 
 Geve ear, for here begynneth the story : 
 
 From hens I went to purgatory, 
 
 And toke with me thys gere in my fyste, 
 
 Wherby I may do there what I lyste. 
 
 I knocked and was let in quyckly: 
 
 But Lorde, how lowe the soules made curtesy; 
 
 And I to every soule agayne 
 
 180 Dyd gyve a beck them to retayne, 
 
 And axed them thys question than, 
 
 If that the soule of suche a woman 
 
 Dyd late amonge them there appere ? 
 
 Wherto they sayd, she came nat here 
 
 Then ferd Ijnuche if, was nat well; 
 
 Alas, thought I, she is in hell; 
 
 For with her lyfe I was so acqueynted, 
 
 That sure I thought she was nat saynted. 
 
 With thys it chaunced me to snese ; 
 
 Christe helpe, quoth a soule that ley for his fees. 
 
 Those wordes, quoth I, thou shall nat lees ; 
 
 Then with these pardons of all degrees, 
 
 I payed his tole and set hym so quyght, 
 
 That strayt to heaven he toke his flyght, 
 
 And I from thens to hell that nyght, 
 
 To help this wo;nan yf I myght; 
 
 Nat as who sayth by authorite, 
 
 But by the waye of entreate. 
 
 And fyrst to the devyll that kept the gate 
 
 I came, and spake after this rate. 
 
 All hayle, syr devyll, and made lowe curtesy: 
 
 Welcome, quoth he, thus 181 smillyngly. 
 
 lli0 Dyd gyve a beck them to retayne] A beck among other signifi- 
 cations has that of a salutation with the head. So, in Shaks- 
 peare's Timon of Athens : 
 
 " A serving of becks, and jutting out of bums.'' S. 
 
 161 thus] thys, 1st edit.
 
 90 THE FOUR P'S. 
 
 He knew me well, and I at laste 
 
 Remembred him syns longe time paste: 
 
 For as good happe wolde have itchaunce, 
 
 This devyll and I were of olde acqueyntaunce ; 
 
 184 For oft, in the play of corpus Cristi, 
 
 He hath playd the devyll at Coventry. 
 
 By his acqueyntaunce and my behavoure, 
 
 He shewed to me ryght frendly favoure, 
 
 And to make my returne the shorter, 
 
 I sayd to this devyll, good mayster porter, 
 
 For all olde love, yf it lye in your power, 
 
 Helpe me to speke with my lorde and your. 
 
 Be sure, quoth he, no tongue can tell, 
 
 What tyme thou coudest have come so well: 
 
 For as on 183 thys daye lucyfer fell, 
 
 Whiche is our festyvall in hell, 
 
 Nothynge unreasonable craved thys day, 
 
 That shall in hell have any nay. 
 
 But yet be ware thou come natin, 
 
 Tyll tyme thou may l84 thy pasporte wyn. 
 
 Wherfore stand styll, and I willwyt 185 , 
 
 Yf I can get thy save condyt. 
 
 He taryed nat, but shortely gat it 
 
 Under seale, and the devyls hande at it, 
 
 In ample wyse, as ye shall here; 
 
 Thus it began : Lucyfcre, 
 
 is: p or 0^ i n tfrgpiay of corpus Cruii, 
 
 He hath playd the devyll at Coventry.] " Before the suppres- 
 
 sion of the monasteries, this city (i. e. COVENTRY) was very 
 
 famous for the pageants that were play'd therein upon Carpus 
 
 Christi day (this is one of their ancient faires), which occasioning 
 
 very great confluence of people thither from far and near, was no 
 
 small henefit thereto ; which pageants being acted with mighty 
 
 state and reverence by the friers of this house, had theaters for 
 
 the several scenes very large and high, placed upon wheels, and 
 
 drawn to all the eminent parts of the city, for the better advan- 
 
 tage of spectators, and contained the story of the New Testa- 
 
 ' ment, composed in old English rithme, as appeareth by an 
 
 " ancient Ms. entitled, Ludus Corpm-is Chr/sti, or Ludus Coventrize, 
 
 " in Bibl. Cotton, (sub Effigie Vesp. D. 9)." Dugdale's War- 
 
 wickshire, p. 116. 
 
 183 as on] Add in the 2d edit. I8 may] maist, edit, 1569. 
 lw wyt] Mr. Dodsley has write .
 
 THE FOUR P'S. 91 
 
 By the power of god chyefe devyll of hell, 
 
 To all the devyls that there do dwell, 
 
 And every of them we sende gretynge, 
 
 Under streyght charge and commaundynge, 
 
 That they aydynge and assystent be 
 
 To suche a Pardoner, and named me, 
 
 So that he may at lybertie 
 
 Passe save without any 186 jeopardy, 
 
 Tyll that he be from us extyncte, 
 
 And clerely out of helle's precincte. 
 
 And hys pardons to kepe in savegarde; 
 
 We wyll they lye in the porter's warde. 
 
 Gevyn in the fornes of our palys, 
 
 In our highe courte of maters of malys, 
 
 Suche a day and yere of our reyne. 
 
 God save the devyll, quoth I, amain 187 . 
 
 I truste thys wrytynge to be sure : 
 
 Then put thy truste, quod he, in euer 188 
 
 Syns thou art sure to take no harme. 
 
 Thys devyll and I walket arme in arme, 
 
 So farre, tyll he had brought me thyther, 
 
 Where all the devylls of hell togyther 
 
 Stode in a ray, in suche apparell 
 
 As for that day there metely fell. 
 
 Theyr homes well gylt, theyr clowes full clene, 
 
 Theyr taylles wel kempt, and, as I wene, 
 
 With sothery 189 butter theyr bodyes anoynted ; 
 
 I never sawe devylls so well appoynted lso . 
 
 The mayster devyll sat in his jacket, 
 
 And all the soules were playinge at racket. 
 
 None other rackettes they hadde in hande, 
 
 Save every soule a good fyre brand ; 
 
 Wherwith they played so pretely, 
 
 That Lucyfer laughed merely j 
 
 186 any] hys, 1st edit. 187 amain] for playne, 1st edit. 
 
 1$a euer] cure, edit. 1569. 
 
 See note 12 to Ferrex and Porrex, in this vol. C. 
 
 189 sot/ien/.] Sweet or fresh made from the old word sate. 
 
 190 well appointed] See Note 3 to The Ordinary, vol. X. 
 
 i
 
 92 THE FOUR P'S. 
 
 And all the resedew of the feends 19 ', 
 
 192 Did laugh thereat ful wel like freends. 
 But of my frende I sawe no whyt, 
 
 Nor durst not axe for her as yet. 
 Anone all this rout was brought in silens, 
 And I by an usher brought in presens 
 
 193 Of Lucyfer : then lowe, as wel I could, 
 Ifknelyd, whiche he so well alowde, 
 
 That thus he beckte, and by saynt Antony 
 He smyled on me well favouredly, 
 Bendynge his browes as brode as barne durres, 
 Shakynge hys eares as ruged as burres ; 
 Rolynge his eyes as rounde as two bushels ; 
 Flastynge the fyre out of his nose thryls; 
 Gnashinge hys teeth so vaynglorously, 
 That me thought tyme to fall to flatery, 
 Wherwith I tolde, as 1 shall tell. 
 
 plesantpycture ! O prince of hell ! 
 Feutred 194 in fashyon abominable, 
 And syns that is inestimable 
 
 For me to prayse the worth yly, 
 
 1 leve of prayse, as unworthy 
 
 To geve the prays, besechynge the 
 To heare my sewte, and then to be 
 So good to graunt the thynge I crave ; 
 And to be shorte, thys wolde I have: 
 The soule of one which hyther is flytted, 
 Delivered 195 hens, and to me remitted. 
 And in thys doynge though al be nat quyt, 
 Yet in some parte I shall 196 deserve it, 
 
 '" feends] frendes, 1st edit. 
 
 192 Did, &c.] First edition reads, 
 
 Dyd laugh full well togyther lyke frendes. 
 
 193 Of Lucifer, &c.J First edition reads, 
 Then to Lucyfer low as 1 coude- 
 
 194 Feutred in fashyan abominable] Feutrer, Fr. faire de 
 f nitre garnir de feutre. To stuff with/ett. Feutrt d'herbe, over- 
 grown with grass. S. 
 
 !9 Delivered] Deliver, edit. 1569. i 96 shall] wil, edit. 1569.
 
 THE FOUR P'S. 93 
 
 As thus : I am a pardoner, 
 
 And over soules as controller, 
 
 Thorough out theerth my power doth stande, 
 
 Where many a soule lyeth on my hande, 
 
 That spede in maters as I use them, 
 
 As 1 receyve them or refuse them. 
 
 Wherby, what tyme thy pleasure is, 
 
 I 197 shall requyte any part of thys, 
 
 The leste clevyll here that can come thyther, 
 
 Shall chose a soule and brynge him hyther. 
 
 Ho lus , ho, quoth the devyll, we are well pleased; 
 
 What is hys name thou woldesthave eased? 
 
 Nay, quoth I, be it good or evyll, 
 
 My comynge is for a she devyll. 
 
 What calste her quoth he thou whoorson 199 ? 
 
 Forsooth quoth I Margery Coorson. 
 
 Now by our honour, sayd Lucyfer, 
 
 No devyll in hell shall withholde her; 
 
 And yf thou woldest have twenty mo, 
 
 Wert not for justyce, they shulde goo. 
 
 For all we 20 devylls within thys den 
 
 Have more to do with two women, 
 
 Then with all the charge we have besyde : 
 
 Wherfore yf thou our frende wyll be tryed, 
 
 Aply thy pardons to women so, 
 
 That unto us there come no mo. 
 
 To do my beste I promysed by othe ; 
 
 Which I have kepte, for as the fayth gotli 
 
 At thys day 201 , to heven I do procure 
 
 Ten women to one man, be sure. 
 
 Then of Lucyfer my leve I toke, 
 
 And streyght unto the mayster coke 
 
 I was hadde, into the kechyn, 
 
 For Margerie's oflfyce was therin. 
 
 w Ye] I, 1st edit. 
 
 And properly, the meaning being that the Pardoner is ready to 
 requite part of this favour whenever it shall be t.ie devil's pleasure. 
 
 C. 
 
 '** Ho] Nowe, 1st edit. } '-' y whwrson] horyson, 1st edit. 
 
 200 ice] the, edit. 1569. 201 lluy ] Jayes, 1st edit.
 
 94 THE FOUR P'S. 
 
 All thyngs handled there discretely, 
 
 For every soule bereth offyce metely : 
 
 Woiche myght be sene to se her syt 
 
 So bysely turnynge of the spyt. 
 
 For many a spyt here hath she turned, 
 
 And many a good spyt hath she burned : 
 
 And many a spyt ful hoth hath rested, 
 
 Before the meat coulde be halfe rested 
 
 And or 802 the meate were halfe rested in dede, 
 
 I toke her then fro the spyt with spede. 
 
 But when she sawe thys brought to pas, 
 
 To tell the joy wherin she was ; 
 
 And of all the devylls, for joy how they 
 
 Did rore at her delyvery, 
 
 And how the cheynes in hell dyd rynge, 
 
 And how all the soules therin dyd synge ; 
 
 And how we were brought to the gate, 
 
 And how we toke our leve therat, 
 
 Be suer lacke of tyme sufferyth nat 
 
 To reherse the xx parte of that, 
 
 Wherfore thys tale to conclude brevely. 
 
 Thys woman thanked me chyefly. 
 
 That she was ryd of thys endles deth, 
 
 And so we departed on newmarketheth. 
 
 And yf that any man do mynde her, 
 
 Who lyste to seke her, there shalle he fynde her, 
 
 Pedler. Syr, ye have sought her wunderous 905 well, 
 And where ye founde her as ye tell, 
 To here the chaunce ye had 204 in hell, 
 I finde ye were in great peril e 5 . 
 
 Palmer. His tale is all muche perilous'' 06 ; 
 But parte is muche more mervaylous : 
 As where he sayde the devylls complayne, 
 That women put them to suche payne. 
 Be theyr condicions so croked and crabbed, 
 Frowardly fashonde, so wayward and wrabbed 207 , 
 
 S0: or] ere. 
 
 s 3 wunderoui] wonders, 1st edit. I04 had] founde, 1st edit. 
 
 405 peril] parell, 1st edit. 206 perilous] parellous, 1st edit. 
 
 807 wayward and wrabbed] I suppose wrabbed to be a word coined 
 for the sake of rhime. S.
 
 TUB FOUR P'S. 95 
 
 So farre in devision, and sturrynge suche stryfe, 
 
 That all the devylls be wery of theyr life. 
 
 This 808 in effect he tolde for * trueth. 
 
 Whereby muche marvell to me ensueth, 
 
 That women in hell suche shrewes can be, 
 
 And here so gentyll as farre as I se. 
 
 Yet have I sene many a myle, 
 
 And many a woman in the whyle. 
 
 Nat one good cytye, towne nor borough 
 
 In cristendom, but I have ben thorough, 
 
 And this I wolde ye shulde understande, 
 
 I have sene women v hundred thousande : 
 
 And oft with them have longe tyme taried 110 
 
 Yet in all places where I have ben, 
 
 Of all the women that I have sene, 
 
 I never sawe nor knevve in my conscyens, 
 
 Any one woman out of paciens, 
 
 Poticary. By the masse, there is a great lye. 
 
 Pardoner. I never harde a greater, by our Lady 
 
 Pedler. A greater! nay, knowe ye any so great? 
 
 Palmer. Syr, whether that I lose or get, 
 For my parte jndgement shall be prayd. 
 
 Pardoner. And I desyer as he hath sayd. 
 
 Poticary. Precede, and ye shall be obeyed. 
 
 Pedler. Then shall nat judgment be delayd, 
 Of all these thre yf eche mannes tale 
 In Poole's churche yarde were set on sale, 
 In some mannes hande that hath the sleyghte, 
 He shulde sure sell these tales by weyght: 
 For as they wey, so be they worth, 
 But whiche weyth beste, to that now forth. 
 Syr, all the tale that ye dyd tell, 
 I bere in mynde, and yours as well : 
 And as ye sawe the mater metely, 
 So lyed ye bothe well and discretely 
 
 208 This] Thus, edit. 1569. yflfor] of, edit. 1569. 
 
 210 taried] maryed, 1st edit. It will be observed that there is no 
 rhime to the Hue 
 
 " And oft with them have long tyme taried" 
 
 and it is probable that a line has here dropped out ending with 
 maryed, which is the word in the oldest of the two editions. C.
 
 yo THE FOUR S. 
 
 Yet were your lyes with the lest, truste me ; 
 
 For yf ye had said ye had made fle 
 
 Ten tampyons out of ten women's tayles, 
 
 Ten tymes ten myle to ten castles or jayles, 
 
 And fild ten ryvers ten tymes so depe, 
 
 As ten of that whiche your castell stones' dyd kepe : 
 
 Or yf ye ten tymes had bodely 
 
 211 Fet ten soules out of purgatory ; 
 
 And ten tymes so many out of hell : 
 
 Yet, by these ten bonnes I coulde right well, 
 
 Ten tymes sooner all that have beleved, 
 
 Then the tenth parte of that he hath meved 
 
 Poticary. Two knaves before i, lacketh ii knaves of 
 
 fyve: 
 
 Then one, and then one, and bothe knaves alyve. 
 Then two, and then two, and thre at a cast, 
 Thou knave, and thou knave, and thou knave at laste. 
 Nay knave, yf ye try me by nomber, 
 I wyll as knavishly you accomber 212 . 
 Your mynde is all on your pryvy tythe, 
 For all in ten me thynketh your wyt lythe. 
 213 Now ten tymes I beseche hym thathye syttes, 
 Thy wives x commaundementes- may serch thy v wittes. 
 Then ten of my tordes in ten of thy teth, 
 And ten on thy nose, whiche every man seth ; 
 And twenlie tymes ten, this wyshe I wolde 
 That thou haddest been hanged at ten yere olde : 
 For thou goest about to make me a slave ; 
 I wyll thou knowe yf I am a gentleman 2U knave. 
 
 211 Fet ten soules, &c.] i. e. fetch'd. The word is used by Tusser, 
 Spenser, and Shakspeare. S. 
 
 See also Note 73 to Gammer Gurton's Needle, vol. II. 
 
 212 accomber] overcome. See Note * on Corf's Promises, p. 21. 
 
 213 A T oi ten tymes I beseech hym that hye syttes, 
 
 Thy wives ten commaurtdementes may serch thy five wyttes,] 
 So Eleanor, in The Second Part of King' Henry VI. A.I. S. 3. says, 
 
 " I'd set my ten commandments in your face." 
 Ten Commandments seem to have been cant terms for the nails of 
 the hands. 
 
 See also Mr. Steevens's Note on the above passage. 
 
 214 gentleman] gentle, edit. 1569.
 
 THE FOUK P'S. 97 
 
 And here is an other shall take my parte. 
 
 Pardoner. Nay fyrste I beshrew your knave's herte, 
 Or I take parte in your knavery : 
 I wyll speak fair, by our 215 lady. 
 Syr, I beseeche your mashyp to be 
 As good as ye can 316 be unto me. 
 
 Pedler. I wolde be glade to do you good ; 
 And hym also, be he never so wood 216 *. 
 But dout you not I wyll now do 
 The thynge my consciens ledeth me to. 
 Both your tales I take farre unpossyble, 
 Yet take I his farther incredyble. 
 Not only the thynge itselfe alloweth it, 
 But also the boldenes therof avoweth it. 
 I knowe nat where your tale to trye ; 
 Nor yours, but in hell or purgatorye. 
 But hys boldnes hath faced a lye, 
 That may be tryed evyn in thys companye. 
 As yf ye lyste to take thys order, 
 Amonge the women in thys border, 
 Take thre of the yongest, and thre of the oldest, 
 Thre of the hotest, and thre of the coldest, 
 Thre of the wysest, and thre of the shrewdest, 
 Thre of the chastest, and thre of the lewdest 217 
 Thre of the lowest, and thre of the hyest, 
 Thre of the farthest, and thre of the nyest, 
 Thre of the fayrest, and thre of the maddest, 
 Thre of the foulest, and thre of the saddest, 
 And when all these threes be had asonder 
 Of eche thre, two justly by nomber 
 Shall be founde shrewes, excepte thys fall, 
 That ye hap to fynde them shrewes all. 
 Hymselfe for trouth all this doth knowe, 
 And oft hath tryed some of thys rowe ; 
 And yet he swereth by his consciens, 
 He never saw woman breke pations. 
 
 *' 4 our] one, 1st edit. 
 
 219 ye can'] yo'u may, edit. 1569, 
 
 2I * u-ood] mad, furious. See Note 98, 
 
 * 17 Addition in the second edition. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE FOUR p's: 
 
 Wherfore consydered with true entente, 
 Hys lye to be so evident, 
 And to appere so evydently, 
 That both you affyrmed it a lyj 
 And that my consciens so depely , .. 
 So depe hath sought thys thynge to try, 
 And tryed it with mynde indyfferent; 
 Thus I awarde by way of judgement: 
 Of all the lies ye all have spent, 
 His lye to be most excellent. 
 
 Palmer. Syr, though ye were bounde of equyte 
 To do as ye have done to me, ,,j ; 
 Yet do I thanke you of your payne, 
 And wyll requyte some parte agayne. 
 
 Pardoner. Mary, syr, ye can no les do, 
 But thanke hym asmuche as it eometh to ; 
 And so wyll 1 do for my parte. 
 Now a vengeaunce on thy knave's hearte, 
 I never knewe a pedler a judge before^ ,. . . 
 Nor never wyll truste pedlynge knave more. 
 What doest thou there, thou horson nody? 
 
 Poticary. By the masse, lerne to make curtesy, 
 Curtesy before, and curtesy behynde hym, 
 And then on eche syde, the devyll blynde hym. 
 Nay, when ye 218 have it perfytly, 
 Ye shall have the devyll and all of curtesy : 
 But it is nat sone lerned, gentle 2l9 brother, 
 One knave to make curtesy to another. 
 Yet when I am angry, that is the worste, 
 I shall call my master knave at the fyrste. 
 
 Palmer. Then wolde some mayster perhappes clowt 
 
 y e > 
 
 But as for me ye nede not doute ye ; 
 For I had lever 220 be without ye, 
 Then have suche besynesse aboute ye. 
 
 818 i/e] I, 1st edit. 
 
 219 gent le] Addition in the second edition. 
 
 220 lever] rather, edit. 1569.
 
 THE FOUR P'S. 99 
 
 Poticary. So helpe me god, so were ye better; 
 What shulde a begger be a jetter 221 ? 
 It were no whyt your honestie, 
 To have us twain jet after ye. 
 
 Pardoner. Syr, be you sure he telleth you true, 
 Yf we shulde wayt thys wolde ensew : 
 It wolde be sayd, truste me at a worde, 
 Two knaves made 222 curtesy to the thyrde. 
 
 Pedler. Now, by my trouth, to speke my mynde, 
 Syns they be so loth to be assyned SSa . 
 To let them lose I thynke it beste. 
 And so shall ye lyve the better 224 in rest. 
 
 Palmer. Syr, I aoi nat on them so fonde, 
 To compell them to kepe theyr bonde ; 
 And syns ye lyste nat to wayte on me, 
 I clerely of waytinge do dyscharge ye. 
 
 Pardoner. Marry, syr, I hertely thanke you. 
 
 Poticary. W!> And likewise I, to God I vow. 
 
 Pedler. Now be ye all evyn as ye begoon ; 
 No man hath loste, nor no man hath woon. 
 Yet in the debate wherewith ye began, 
 By waye of advyce I wyll speke as I can. 
 I doo perceyve that pylgrymage 
 Is chyefe 226 the thynge ye have in usage ; 
 Wherto in effect, for the love of Chryst, 
 Ye have, or shulde have been entyst : 
 And who so doth with suche intent, 
 Doth well declare hys tyme well spent. 
 
 221 a jetter] i.e. one who struts or agitates his body in a pompous 
 manner. So, in Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, 
 
 " How he jets under his advanced plumes." S. 
 See also Note 23 to Edward II. vol. II. 
 
 222 made] make, edi'. 1569. 
 
 223 assyned] 1 believe we should read affin'd, i. e. joined by affi- 
 nity to each other. So, in OthelL>, 
 
 " If partially aflin'd or leagued in office." S. 
 It probably means assigned to the Palmer to wait on him, which 
 was part of the agreement before the contention began. C. 
 
 224 better'] beste, 1st edit. 
 
 225 And likewise I, ^c.] First edition reads, 
 
 And I lykewyse, I make God a vowe. 
 " G chyefe] cheefest, edit. 1569.
 
 100 . THE FOUR P'S. 
 
 And so do ye in your pretence, 
 
 If ye procure thus 227 indulgence 
 
 Unto your neyghbours charytably, 
 
 For love of them in god onely. 
 
 All thys may be ryght well applyed 
 
 To shew 228 you both well occupyed : 
 
 For though ye walke nat bothe one waye, 
 
 Yet walkynge thus, thys dare I saye, 
 
 That bothe your walkes come to one ^ end ; 
 
 And so for all that do pretende 
 
 By ayde of goddes grace to ensewe 
 
 Any maner kynde of vertue ; 
 
 As some, great almyse for to gyve : 
 
 Some, in wyllfull povertie to lyve : 
 
 Some, to make hye wayes and suche lyke ^ warkes, 
 
 And some, to mayntaine prestes and clarkes, 
 
 To synge and praye for soule departed : 
 
 These, with all other vertues well marked, 
 
 Although they be of sondry kyndes, 
 
 Yet be they nat used with sondry myndes. 
 
 But as god only doth all those move, 
 
 So every man onely for his love, 
 
 With love and dred obedeintly 
 
 Worketh in these vertues unyformly. 
 
 Thus every vertue Vf we lyste to scan, 
 
 Is pleasaunt to god and thankfull to man. 
 
 And who that by grace of the Holy Goste 
 
 To any one vertue is moved moste, 
 
 That man by that grace that one apply, 
 
 And therin serve god moste plenty fully ai , 
 
 Yet nat that one so farre wyde to wreste, 
 
 So lykynge the same to myslvke the reste. 
 
 For who so wresteth his worke is in vayne ; 
 
 And even in that case I perceyve you twayne. 
 
 Lykynge your vertue in suche wyse, 
 
 That eche other's vertue ye doo dyspyse. 
 
 227 thus] this, edit. 1569. *& shew] sliewell, 1st edit. 
 
 229 one] on, edit. 1569. * like] other, 1st edit, 
 
 si plentyfully] plenteously, edit. 1569.
 
 THE FOUR P'S. 101 
 
 Who walketh thys way for god wolcle fynde hym, 
 The farther they seke hym, the farther behynde hynv 
 One kynde of vertue to dyspyse another, 
 Is lyke as the syster myght hange the brother. 
 
 Poticary. ^ For fere lest suohe parels * t.o me myght 
 
 fall, 
 I thanke god I use no vertue at all. 
 
 Pedler. That is of all the very worste waye ; 
 For more harde it is, as I have harde saye, 
 To begynne vertue where none is pretended, 
 Then where it is begonne th' abuse to be mended. 
 How be it, ye be 23 - 1 nat all to begynne, 
 One syne of vertue ye are entred in : 
 As thys, I suppose ye did saye true 
 In that ye sayd ye use no vertue. 
 IP. the whiche wordes I dare well reporte, 
 You are well beloved of all thys sorte, 
 By your raylynge here openly 
 At pardons and relyques so leudly. 
 
 Poticary. In that I thinke my faute nat great; 
 For all that he hath I knowe counterfete. 
 
 Pedler. For his, and all other that ye knowe fayned, 
 You be not 234 counceled nor constrayned 
 To any suche thynge in any suche case, 
 To give any reverence in any suche place. 
 But where ye dout, the truthe nat knowynge, 
 Belevynge the beste, good may be growynge, 
 In judgynge the beste, no harme at the leste; 
 In judging the worste, no good at the beste. 
 But beste in these thynges it semeth to me, 
 To make 235 no judgement upon ye; 
 But c-,s the ohurche dothjudge or take them, 
 So do ye receyve or forsake them. 
 And so be you sure ye cannat erre, 
 But may be a frutfull folower. 
 
 232 For fere lest suche purels to rue myghtfall.] Perhaps by parels is 
 meant pareilles, Fr. i. e. things similar, or parels. Or it may be 
 be only a corruption of perils. S. 
 
 * i. e. perils. See notes 205 and 206. C. 
 
 233 be] are, edit. 1559. 234 not] nother, 1st edit. 
 - make} take, edit. 1569.
 
 102 THE FOUR 
 
 Poticary. Go ye before and as T am true man, 
 I wyll folow as fast as I can. 
 
 Pardoner. And so wyll I, for he hath sayd so well, 
 Reason wolde we shulde folowe hys counsell. 
 
 Palmer. Then, to our reason, god gyve us his grace, 
 That we may folowe with fayth so fermely 
 Hys commaundements, that we may purchace 
 Hys love, and so consequently 
 To byleve hys churche, faste and faythfully ; 
 So that we may, accordynge to his promyse. 
 Be kepte out of errour in any wyse. 
 And all that hath scapet 236 us here by neglygence, 
 We clerely revoke and forsake it; 
 To passe the tyme in thys without offence, 
 Was the cause why the maker dyd make it ; 
 And so we humbly beseche you to take it, 
 Besechynge our lorde to prosper you all, 
 In the fayth of his churche universall. 
 
 236 scapet] escapte, edit. 1569.
 
 103 
 
 EDITIONS. 
 
 (I.) " The playe called the foure PP. A newe and 
 " a very mery enterlude of A Palmer, A Pardoner, A 
 " Potycary, A Pedler. Made by John Heewood. 
 " Imprynted at London in Fletestrete, at the sygne of 
 " the George, by Wyllyam Myddylton." 
 
 This Edition must have been printed at least as early 
 as the year 1547, at which time William Middleton 
 either died or retired from business. See Ames's 
 Typographical Antiquities, p. 218, 258. 
 
 (2.) " The Play called the Foure P. A very mery 
 " Enterlude of A Palmer, A Pardoner, A Poticary, A 
 " Pedler. Imprinted at London, at the long Shop 
 " adjoyning unto S. Mildreds Churche in the Pultrie, 
 " by John Allde, Anno Domini 1569, Septembris 14." 
 
 Both these Editions are in the Collection of Mr. 
 Garrick.
 
 FERREX AND PORREX.
 
 THOMAS SACKVILLE, Lord Buckhurst, was related to 
 Queen Elizabeth by her mother Ann Boleyn. He was 
 born in 1536,* and educated at Hart-Hall, in the 
 University of Oxford ; from whence he went to Cam- 
 bridge, and afterwards to the Temple. In his younger 
 days he travelled into France and Italy ; and at the 
 early period of his life only he was, as Mr Spence 1 ob- 
 serves, what perhaps all persons of his birth ought to 
 be, a poet. His father, dying in 1566, left him a large 
 fortune, the greatest part of which he soon spent by 
 his magnificent manner of living, but in the end be- 
 came a better economist. He served in parliament both 
 in the reign of Queen Mary and Elizabeth In 1567, 
 he was created Baron Buckhurst; in 1571, was sent 
 ambassador to Charles IX, king of France ; and in 
 1587, to the States of the United Provinces. In 1588, 
 he was made one of the Knights of the Garter ; in 
 1591, Chancellor of the University of Oxford; and in 
 1598, Lord High Treasurer of England. He was con- 
 tinued in that office by King James, who in 1603 ad- 
 vanced by him to the dignity of Earl of Dorset. He 
 died suddenly at the council board, in l608,f of a fit 
 of the apoplexy | 
 
 * Mr. A. Chalmers (Biogr. Diet, xxvii. 16, fixes the date of 
 his birth in 1.5^7, \vhile Sir E. Brydges, in his new edit, of the 
 Theatruiii Poetarum, 66, says with Mr. Reed that this event did 
 not happen until 1586. C. 
 
 1 Some account of Lord Buckhurst and his Writings, prefixed 
 to the edition of Gorboduc printed in 17SG. 
 
 t He had been ill for some tirne, and his life was despaired of 
 nine months before he died, on the 19th April, 1608. ('. 
 
 | His funeral Sermon was preached by Dr. Abbot, Dean of 
 Winchester, on JMay 26th, 1608. It was printed soon afterwards 
 and the following curious papers are extracted from it. 
 
 "Her iVlajtsty not long before her death, being pleased as it 
 seemeth with some special piece of service which his Lordship had 
 done unto her grew at large to discourse touching this nobleman, 
 as an honourable person and a counsellor of estate, in writing hath 
 advertised me. Her highness was then pleased to decypher out
 
 108 
 
 He was the Author of 
 
 (1) The Introduction to the Mirror for Magistrates, 
 first published by William Baldwin in 4to. 1550; 
 again, with the second part in 4to, 1563 ; re-published 
 with additions in 1575 ; and a fourth time further 
 augmented and published by Richard Nicols in 1610. 
 " The wurke (says the original publisher) was begun, 
 " and part of it prynted in Queene Maries tyme, but 
 " hyndred by the Lorde Chauncellor that then was; 
 " nevertheles, through the meanes of my Lord Staf- 
 " ford, the fyrst parte was licenced ar\d imprynted the 
 
 his life by seven steps or degrees. The first was his younger 
 days, the time of his scholarship when first in that famous Uni- 
 versity of Oxford, aud afterward in the Temple (where he took the 
 degree of Barrister) he gave tokens of such pregnancy, such studi- 
 ousness and judgment that he was held no way inferior to any of 
 his time or standing. And of this there remain good tokens, both 
 in English and Latin published unto the world." 
 
 In the margia opposite the latter words is this note. " The 
 Life of Tretilian in the Mirror of Magi&tr, Epist. prefix. Aulic Earth 
 Clerke," from whence it seems that the Reverend Dean was not so 
 well informed regarding the English writings of Lord Dorset, as 
 the events of his life. He then proceeds : " The second was his 
 travel, when being in France and Italy he profited very much in 
 the languages, in matter of story and state. And being prisoner 
 in Rome for the space of fourteen days, (which trouble was 
 brought upon him by some who hated him for his love to religion 
 and his duty to his sovereign) he so prudently bare himself that 
 by the blessing of God, and his temperate kind of carriage, he was 
 freed out of that danger. The third step which her Majesty did 
 think good to observe was (upon return in England) his coming 
 unto her Court, where on divers occasions he bountifully feasted 
 her Highness and her nobles ; and so he did foreign ambassadors. 
 At that time he entertained musicians, the most curious which any 
 where he could have, and therein his lordship excelled unto his 
 djing day. Then was his discourse judicious, but yet witty and 
 delightful. Thus he was in his younger days a scholar and a 
 traveller and a courtier of special estimation." 
 
 The Sermon then notices some events of Lord Dorset's public 
 life, and particularly the present of a ring set with diamonds, 
 which king James sent to him by the hand of Lord Hay when Lord 
 Dorset was sick, in the beginning of June, 1607, and waa not ex- 
 pected to recover. It quotes a passage from his will, in which he 
 bequeathed this valued gift to his son, and afterwards to his 
 nephew. C.
 
 109 
 
 " fyrst yeare of the raygne of thys our most noble and 
 " vertuous Queene. Since whych time, although I 
 " have bene called to an other trade of lyfe, yet my 
 " good Lorde StafForde hath not ceased to call upon 
 '' me to publish so much as I had gotten at other 
 " mens hands, so that through his Lordshippe's earnest 
 " meanes I have now also set furth an other partecon- 
 " teyning as little of myne owne, as the fyrst part 
 " doth of other mens." In this second part Lord 
 Buckhurst's Induction first appeared. The cause of 
 writing it was as follows: "After that he (Lord 
 " Buckhurst) understode that some of the counsayle 
 " would not suffer the booke to be printed ID such'e 
 " order as we had agreed and determined, he purposed 
 " with himself'e to have gotten at my handes all the 
 " tragedies that were before the duke of Buckingham's, 
 " which he would have preserved in one volume; and 
 " from that time backward even to the time of William 
 " the Conqueror, he determined to continue and per- 
 " feet all the story himselfe in such order as Lydgate 
 " (following Bocchas) had already used ; and there- 
 " fore to make a meete induction into the matter, 
 " he devised this poesye." We are informed, that 
 this design was laid aside on the Author's being called 
 to a more serious expence in the great state affairs 
 of his most royal Lady and Sovereign. The Induc- 
 tion, in 1759, was re-printed by Mr. Capel, in his 
 Prolusions, 
 
 Those praises which were bestowed on the poetry of 
 Lord Buckliurst by his contemporaries are not to be as- 
 cribed to his rank or fortune. The best judges have 
 ratified the sentence passed by the criticks of the time, 
 and even gone beyond them in their commendations. 
 Mr. Warton, speaking of the The Mirror for Magis- 
 trates, says (Observations on Spenser, vol. II. p. 109.) : 
 " There is one Poem indeed among the rest which ex- 
 " hibits a groupe of imaginary personages, so beauti- 
 " fully drawn, that in all probability they contributed 
 " to direct, at least to stimulate, Spenser's imagination
 
 no 
 
 ' in the construction of the like representations. Thus 
 ' much maybe truly said, that Sackville's INDUCTION 
 ' approaches nearer to the FAIRY QUEEN, in the 
 ' richness of allegoric description, than any previous 
 ' or succeeding poem." 
 
 (2) The Complaynt of Henrye, duke of Bucking- 
 ham, in the Mirror for Magistrates- 
 
 (3.) A Latin Letter to Dr. Bartholomew Clerke,pre- 
 fixed to his Translation of Balthazar Castilio, De 
 Curiali sive Aulico, first printed at London about 
 1571. 
 
 (4.) Verses prefixed to Hobby's Translation of Cas- 
 tilio's Courtier, 4to. 1577, in commendation of the 
 Work. 
 
 (5.) Letters in the Cabala, and one to the Earl of 
 Sussex, in Howard's Collection, p. 297. 
 
 Thomas Norton, who joined with Lord Buckhurst 
 in writing this play,* was, according to Wood 2 who 
 gives him the title of a forward and busy calvinist, a 
 native of, or resident at, Sharpenhaule, otherwise 
 Sharpenhoe, in the county of Bedford. He lived some 
 time in the Temple, became a barrister 3 at law,f and 
 solicitor for the city of London 4 . He translated some 
 of the Psalms in Sternhold and Hopkins's Version, 
 and was the author and translator of several polemical 
 
 * It is only on the titles of what are considered the spurious 
 copies of this play that it is stated that Norton wrote the three 
 first, and Sackville the two last acts. Mr. Warton doubts whether 
 Norton had by any means so great a share in it. C. 
 
 a Athens Oxonienses, 77. 
 
 3 Ibid. 
 
 t In the books of the Stationers' Company are entries of fees 
 paid to Thomas Norton, and hence it has been concluded that he 
 was Counsel to that Body. Here we find also the latest memorial 
 of him in an entry between 1583 and 1584, and it is supposed 
 either that after that date he was not employed, or that 
 
 "ugly death 
 
 Depriv'd him of his office and his breath." C. 
 
 4 Marbury's Book of Monarchy, as quoted by Oldys, in his MS. 
 Notes on Langbaine.
 
 and political Works, J which are enumerated in Wood's 
 Athense Oxonienses*. 
 
 t Thomas Norton's " Address to the Queene's Majesties poor 
 deceavey'd subjectes," is noticed at length in Censura Literaria X. 
 97. O. G. 
 
 5 P. 77. p. 155. 
 
 The portrait of Norton, or at least a figure intended for him, 
 is preserved in a small work of six folio pages, and containing five 
 plates, called " Descriptiones qucedam illius inhumancc et multiplicis 
 persecutionis quam in Anglia proptis fidem sustinent , Catholice Chris- 
 tiani" The third plate is entitled Tormenta in carceribus infticta, and 
 here is inserted the supposed likeness of Norton, who is called 
 Nortonus archicarnifex, and is accompanied suis satellitibus. A 
 further account of the work may be seen in Censura Literaria VII. 
 72. C.
 
 ARGUMENT OF THE TRAGEDIE. 
 
 GORBODUC, king of Brittaine, divided his realme in his 
 life-time to his sonnes, Ferrex and Porrex. The sonnes 
 fell to dincention. The yonger killed the elder. The 
 mother that more dearely loved the elder, for revenge 
 killed the yonger. The people moved with the crueltie 
 of the fact, rose in rebellion, and slew both father and 
 mother. The Nubilitie assembled, and most terribly 
 destroyed the Rebels, and afterwards for want of issue 
 of the Prince, whereby the succession of the Crowne 
 became uncertaine, they fell to Civil Warre, in which 
 both they and many of their issues were slain, and the 
 land for a long time almost desolate and miserably 
 wasted.
 
 113 
 
 THE P [PRINTER] TO THE READER. 
 
 WHERE this Tragedie was for furniture of part of the 
 grand Christmasse in the Inner-Temple, first written 
 about nine yeares agoe by the right honourable Thomas, 
 now Lorde Buckherst, and by T. Norton, and after 
 shewed before her majestie, and never intended by the 
 Authors thereof to be published : yet one W. G. getting 
 a copie thereof at some yong man's hand that lacked a 
 little money, and much discretion in the last great 
 plage an. 1565, about 5 yeares past, while the said 
 lord was out of England, and T. Norton farre out of 
 London, and neither of them both made privie, put it 
 forth excedingly corrupted : even as if by meanes of a 
 broker for hire he should have entised into his house a 
 faire maide and done her villanie, and after all to 
 bescratched her face, tome her apparell, berayed and 
 disfigured her, and then thrust her out of dores dis- 
 honested. In such plight after long wandring, she came 
 at length home to the sight of her frendes, who scant 
 knew her but by a few tokens and markes remayning. 
 They, the authors I meane, though they were very 
 much displeased that she ranne abroad without leave, 
 whereby she caught her shame as many wantons do; 
 yet seeing the case as ft is, remedilesse have for com- 
 mon honestie and shamefastnesse new apparelled, 
 trimmed, and attired her in such a forme as she was 
 before. In which better forme since she hath come to 
 me, I have harbored her for her frendes sake and her 
 owne ; and I do not dout her parentes, the authors, 
 will not now be discontent that she goe abroad among 
 you good readers, so it be in honest companie. For 
 she is by my encouragement and others somewhat lesse 
 ashamed of the dishonestie done to her, because it was 
 by fraude and force. If she be welcome among you, 
 and gently enterteined in favor of the house from 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 whence she is descended, and of her owne nature 
 courteously disposed to offend no man, her frendes will 
 thanke you for it. If not, but that she shall be still 
 reproched with her former missehap, or quarelled at 
 by envious persons, she, poore gentlewoman, will surely 
 play Lucreces part, and of herself die for shame, and I 
 shall wishe that she had taried still at home with me, 
 where she was welcome ; for she did never put me to 
 more charge but this one poore blacke gowne lined 
 with white, that I have now geven her to goe abroad 
 among you withall.
 
 NAMES OF THE SPEAKERS. 
 
 GORBODUC, king of Great Brittain, 
 
 VIDENA, queene and wife to king Gorboduc. 
 
 FEIIREX, elder sonne to king Gorboduc. 
 
 PORREX, yonger sonne to king Gorboduc. 
 
 CLOYTON, duke of Cor new all, 
 
 FERGUS, duke oj Albanye. 
 
 MANDUD, duke of Loegris. 
 
 GWENARD, duke of Cuniberland. 
 
 EUBULUS, secretarie to the king. 
 
 AROSTUS, a counsellor to the king. 
 
 DORDAN, a counsellor assigned by the king to his eldest 
 
 sonne Ferrex. 
 PHILANDER, a counsellor assigned by the king to his 
 
 yongest son Porrex. 
 
 [Both being of the olde hinges counsel before. 
 HERMON, a parasite remaining with Ferrex. 
 TYNDAR, a parasite remaining with Porrex. 
 NUNTIUS, a messenger of the eldest brother's death. 
 NUNTIUS, a messenger of duke Fergus rising in arms. 
 MAROELLA, a lady of the queenes prime-chamber. 
 CHORUS, f oure auncient and sage men of Brittaine.
 
 The Order of the Domme Shew before the first Act 
 and the Signification therof. 
 
 First, the musicke of violenze began to play, during 
 which came in upon the stage sixe wilde men, clothed 
 in leaves. Of whom the first bare on his necke a 
 fagot of small stickes, which they all both severallye 
 and together assayed with all their strengthes to breake, 
 but it could not be broken by them. At the length one 
 of them plucked out one of the sticks, and brake it : 
 and the rest plucking out all the other stickes one 
 after another, did easely breake the same being se- 
 vered, which being enjoyned, they had before attempted 
 in vaine. After they had this done, they departed the 
 stage, and the musick ceased. Hereby wus signified, 
 that a state knit in unitie doth continue strong against 
 all force, but being divided, is easily destroyed; as befel 
 upon duke Gorboduc dividing his lande to his two 
 sonnes, which he before held in monarchic, and upon 
 the discention of the brethren to whom it was divided,
 
 FERREX AND PORREX . 
 
 ACTUS PRIMUS. SCENA PRIMA. * 
 
 VIDENA. FEIIREX, 
 
 Videna. THE silent night thatbringes the quiet pawse, 
 From painefull travailes of the wearie day, 
 Prolonges my carefull thoughtes, and makes me blame 
 The slowe Aurora, that so for love or shame 
 Doth long delay to shewe her blushing face; 
 
 6 This play we are told by the printer of the second Edition was 
 first acted at the Inner- Temple, and afterwards before Queen Eli- 
 zabeth. Its first appearance was at a grand Christmas celebrated 
 with unusual magnificence, as may be seen by the description of it 
 in Dugdale's Origines Jtiridiciales, p. 150. It is here printed from the 
 second Edition ; the third, of 1590, from which it was published 
 in 1736, by Mr. Spence and by Mr. Dodsley, in this collection be- 
 fore, appearing to be only arepublicatioii of the first imperfect copy 
 complained of by the Authors as published in their absence without 
 their knowledge or consent. The testimony of Sir Philip Sidney 
 concerning this play is as follows : " Gorboduc is full of stately 
 " speeches and well-sounding phrases, climbing to the height of 
 " Seneca his style, and as full of notable morality : which it doth 
 " most delightfully teach, and thereby obtain the very end of 
 " poetry." And Mr. Pope was of opinion, " That the writers of 
 " the succeeding age might have improved as much in other respects 
 " by copying from him a propriety in the sentiments, an unaffected 
 " perspicuity of style, and in an easy flow in the numbers ; in a 
 " word, that chastity, correctness, and gravity of style, which are 
 " so essential to tragedy, and which all the tragic poets who fol- 
 " lowed, not excepting Shakespeare himself, either little under- 
 " stood, or perpetually neglected." 
 
 * The edition of this tragedy of 1590, is said to be a reprint of 
 the spurious copy first published. As the variations, verbal and 
 otherwise, are generally curious and sometimes useful, they are 
 noted at the bottom of the page, and for this purpose a careful 
 comparison has been madet C.
 
 118 FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT f. 
 
 And now the day renewes my griefull plaint. 
 
 Ferrex. My gracious lady, and my mother deare, 
 Pardon my griefe for your so grieved minde 
 To aske what cause tormenteth so your hart. 
 
 Videna. So great a wrong and so unjust despite. 
 Without all cause against all course of kinde 
 
 Ferrex. Such causelesse wrong and so unjust des- 
 pite, 
 May have redresse, or, at the least, revenge. 
 
 Videna. Neither my sonne : such is the froward will. 
 The person such, such my misehappe and thine, 
 
 Ferrex. Mine ! know I none, but grief for your dis- 
 tresse. 
 
 Videna. Yes, mine for thine, my sonne. A father? 
 
 no: 
 In kinde a father, not in kindliness 7 . 
 
 Ferrex. My father ? why, I know nothing at all, 
 Wherin I have misdone unto his grace. 
 
 Videna. Therfore, the more unkinde to thee and 
 
 mee: 
 
 For knowing well (my sonne) the tender love 
 That I have ever borne, and beare to thee, 
 He greved thereat, is not content alone, 
 To spoile thee of my sight, my chiefest joye, 
 
 * In kinde a father, not in kindliness] Kind is nature. Hamlet has 
 almost the same sentiment, 
 
 A little more than kin, and less than Kind. 
 In seTeral other places of this play the same word in the like 
 sense occurs. Again, in Julius Cesar, A. 1. S. 3. 
 ' But if you would consider the true cause, 
 ' Why birds and beastes from quality and kind, 
 ' Why all these thinges change from their ordinance, 
 ' Their natures, and presumed faculties 
 
 ' To monstrous quality " 
 
 Titus Andrmiicus, A. 2. S. 1. 
 
 ' The forest walks are wide and spacious, 
 ' And many unfrequented plots there are 
 ' Fitted by kind for rape and villainy." 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra, A. 5. S. 2. " You must think this, look 
 " you, that the worm will do his kind." 
 
 For these instances I am indebted to a writer in the Saint 
 James's Chronicle, Nov. 5, 1774. See also Mr. Steevens's Note on 
 Hamlet, A. 1. S. 2. 
 
 i
 
 SC. I.] FERREX AND PORREX. 119 
 
 But thee, of thy birth-right and heritage, 
 Causelesse, unkindly and in wrongfull wise, 
 Against all lawe and right he will bereave : 
 Halfe of his kingdome he will geve away. 
 
 Ferrex. To whom? 
 
 ndena. Even to Porrex his yonger sonne, 
 Whose growing pride I do so sore suspect, 
 That being raised to equall rule with thee, 
 Mee thinkes I see his envious hart to swell, 
 Filled with disdaine and with ambicious hope. 
 The end the goddes do know, whose altars I 
 Full oft have made in vaine of cattel slaine 
 To send the sacred smoke to heaven's throne, 
 For thee my sonne, if thinges do so succede, 
 As now my jelous minde misdemeth sore. 
 
 Ferrex. Madam, leave care and carefull plaint for 
 
 me: 
 
 Just hath my father bene to every wight, 
 His first unjustice he will not extend 
 To me, I trust, that geve no cause therof. 
 My brother's pride shall hurt himselfe, not me. 
 
 Videna. So graunt the Goddes : but yet thy father so 
 Hath firmely fixed his unmoved minde 
 That plaintes and prayers can no whit availe, 
 (For those have I assaid) but even this day 
 He will endevour to procure assent 
 Of all his counsell to his fonde devise. 
 
 Ferrex. Their ancestors from race to race have borne 
 True fayth to my forefathers ; and their seede, 
 I trust they eke will beare the like to me. 
 
 Videna. There resteth all ; but if they faile thereof, 
 And if the end bring forth an ill successe, 
 On them and theirs the mischiefe shall befall. 
 And so I pray the Goddes requite it them; 
 And so they will, for so is wont to be 
 When lordes and trusted rulers under kinges, 
 To please the present fancie of the prince, 
 With wrong transpose the course of governance, 
 Murders, mischief, or civill sword at length, 
 Or mutual treason, or a just revenge,
 
 120 FKRREX AND PORREX. [ACT 
 
 When right succeding line returnes again 
 By Jove's just judgement and deserved wrath, 
 Bringes them to cruell,* and reprochfull death, 
 And rootes their names and kindredes from the earth. 
 
 Ferrex. Mother, content you, you shall see the end. 
 
 Videna. -The end ? thy end I feare : Jove end me 
 first! 
 
 ACTUS PRIMUS. SCENA SECUNDA. 
 
 GORBODUC. AROSTUS. PHILANDER. EUBULUS. 
 
 Gorboduc. My lords, whose grave advise and faithfull 
 
 aide 
 
 Have long upheld my honour and my realme, 
 And brought me to this age from tender yeres, 
 Guidyng so great estate with great renowne ; 
 Nowe more importeth mee than erst 8 to use 
 Your fayth and wisdome whereby yet I reigne ; 
 That when by death my life and rule shall cease, 
 The kingdome yet may with unbroken course 
 Have certayne prince, by whose undoubted right 
 Your wealth and peace may stand in quiet stay : 
 And eke that they whome nature hath preparde, 
 In time to take my place in princely seate, 
 While in their father's tyme their pliant youth 
 Yeldes to the frame of skilfull governaunce, 
 Maye so be taught, and trayned in noble artes, 
 As what their fathers which have reigned before 
 Have with great fame derived downe to them, 
 With honour they may leave unto their seede ; 
 And not be thoughtf for their unworthy life, 
 And for their lawlesse swarvynge out of kinde, 
 Worthy to lose whatlawe and kind them gave ; 
 But that they may preserve the common peace, 
 (The cause that first began and still mainteines, 
 The lyneall course of kinges inheritance) 
 
 * " Civil." Edit. 1590. 8 erst] formerly, heretofore, 
 
 t" Taught." Edit. 1590.
 
 SC. II.] FERREX AND FORREX. 121 
 
 For me, for myne, for you, and for the state 
 Whereof both I and you have charge and care. 
 Thus do I meane to use your wonted fayth 
 To me and myne, and to your native lande. 
 My lordes, be playne without all wrie respect, 
 Or poysonous craft to speake in pleasyng wise, 
 Lest, as the blame of yll succedyng thinges 
 Shall light on you, so light the harmes also. 
 
 Arostus. Your good acceptance so (most noble king) 
 Of suche our faithfulnesse, as heretofore 
 We have employed in duetiesto your grace, 
 And to this realme whose worthy head you are, 
 Well proves that neyther you mistrust at all, 
 Nor we shall neede in boasting wise to shewe 
 Our trueth to you, nor yet our wakefull care 
 For you, for yours, and for our native lande. 
 Wherefore (O kyng) I speake as one for all, 
 Sithe all as one do beare you egall faith : 
 Doubt not to use our counsells and our aides 
 Whose honours, goods and lyves are whole avowed, 
 To serve, to ayde, and to defende your grace. 
 
 Gorboduc. My lordes, I thanke you all. This is the 
 
 case. 
 
 Ye know, the Gods, who have the soveraigne care, 
 For kings, for kingdomes, and for common weales, 
 Gave me two sonnes in my more lusty ago, 
 Who nowe in my decayeng* yeres are growen 
 Well towardes ryper state of minde and strength, 
 To take in hande some greater princely charge. 
 As yet they lyve and spende their hopefull daies 
 With me and with their mother here in courte. 
 Their age nowe asketh other place and trade, 
 And myne also doth aske an other chaunge, 
 Theirs to more travaile, myne to greater ease. 
 Whan fatall death shall endemy mortall life, 
 My purpose is to leave unto them twaine, 
 The realme divided in two sondry partes : 
 The one, Ferrex myne elder sonne shall have, 
 The other, shall the yongerf Porrex rule. 
 
 * " Deceiving." Edit. 1590. f " Other." Edit. 1590.
 
 122 FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT I. 
 
 That both my purpose may more firmely stande, 
 And eke that they may better rule their charge, 
 I meane forthwith to place them in the same ; 
 That in my life they may both learne to rule, 
 And I may joy to see their ruling well. 
 This is, in summe, what I would have ye wey: 
 First whether ye allowe 9 my whole devise, 
 And thinke it good forme, for them, for you, 
 And for our countrey, mother of us all : 
 And if ye lyke it, and allowe it well, 
 Then for their guydinge and their governaunce 
 Shew forth such meanes of circumstance, , 
 As ye think meete to be both knowne and kept. 
 Loe, this is all ; now tell me your advise. 
 
 Arostus. And this is much, and asketh great advise ; 
 But for my part, my soveraigne lord and kyng, 
 This do I thinke- Your majestie doth know, 
 How under you, injustice and In peace, 
 Great wealth and honour longe we have enjoyed, 
 So as we cannot seeme with gredie mindes 
 To wishe for change of prince or governaunce; 
 But if we lyke your purpose and devise, 
 Our lyking must be deemed to proceede 
 Of rightfull reason, and of heedefull care, 
 Not for ourselves, but for our common state : 
 Sithe our owne state doth neede no better change. 
 I thinke in all, as erst your grace hath saide : 
 Firste when you shall unlode your aged mynde 
 Of hevye care and troubles manifolde, 
 And laye the same upon my lordes your sonnes, 
 ^Vhose growing yeres may beare the burden long, 
 And long I pray the Goddes to graunt it so : 
 And in your life while you shall so beholde 
 Their rule, their vertues, and their noble deedes, 
 Suche as their kinde behighteth 10 to us all, 
 
 9 allowe] i. e. approve. So, in King Lear, A. 2. S. 4. 
 
 " if your sweet sway 
 " Allow obedience." 
 See Mr. Steevens's Note thereon. 
 
 10 behighteth] i. e. promiseth. So Spenser, in his Fairy Queen, 
 B. 4. C. U.S. 6.
 
 SC. II.] FERREX ANT) PORREX. 123 
 
 Great be the profiles that shall growe thereof; 
 
 Your age in quiet shall the longer last, 
 
 Your lasting age shal be their longer stay. 
 
 For cares of kynges, that rule as you have ruled, 
 
 For publique wealth, and not for private joye, 
 
 Do waste mannes lyfe and hasten crooked age, 
 
 With furrowed face, and with enfeebled lymmes, 
 
 To draw on creepyng death a swifter pace. 
 
 They two yet yong shall beare the parted reigne 
 
 With greater ease than one, now olde, alone 
 
 Can welde the whole, for whom muche harder is 
 
 With lessened strength the doubled weight to beare. 
 
 Your eye, your counsell, and the grave regarde 
 
 Of father, yea, of such a father's name, 
 
 Now at beginning of their sondred reigne, 
 
 When is the hazarde of their whole successe, 
 
 Shall bridle so their force of youthfull heates, 
 
 And so restreine the rage of insolence, 
 
 Which most assailes the yong and noble mindes, 
 
 And so shall guide and traine in tempred stay 
 
 Their yet greene bending wittes with reverent awe, 
 
 As now inured with vertues at the first, 
 
 Custome (O king) shall bring delightfulnesse : 
 
 By use of vertue, vice shall growe in hate. 
 
 But if you so dispose it, that the daye 
 
 Which ends your life shall first begin their reigne, 
 
 Great is the perill, what will be the ende, 
 
 When such beginning of such liberties, 
 
 Voide of such stayes as in your life do lye, 
 
 Shall leave them free to randon 11 of their will 
 
 An open praie to traiterous flatterie, 
 
 The greatest pestilence of noble youthe : 
 
 Whiche perill shall be past, if in your life 
 
 Their tempred youthe with aged father's awe 
 
 Be brought in ure 1 * of skilfull stayednesse. 
 
 " And for his paines a whistle him Miight, 
 " That of a fishe's shell was wrought with rare delight." 
 * " States," edit. 1590. 
 
 '' randon"] To go without any restraint. Raiubnner, Fr. ' 
 '- in re.] Ure is an old word, signifying habit, practise. It is used 
 by Spenser and others. So, in Edward IIL A. 1. S. 1.
 
 124 FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT I. 
 
 And in your life their lives disposed so 
 Shall length your noble life in joyfulnesse. 
 Thus thinke I that your grace hath wisely thought, 
 And that your tender care of common weale 
 Hath bred this thought, so to divide your lande, 
 And plant your sonnes to beare the present rule, 
 While you yet live to see their rulinge well, 
 That you may longer lyve by joye therein. 
 What furder meanes behovefull are and meete 
 At greater leisure may your grace devise, 
 When all have said, and when we be agreed 
 If this be best, to part the realme in twaine, 
 And place your sonnes in present governement : 
 Whereof as I have plainely said my mynde, 
 So woulde I here the rest of all my lordes. 
 
 Philander. In part I thinke as hath been saide 
 
 before ; 
 
 In part agayne my minde is otherwise. 
 As for dividing of this realme in twaine, 
 And lotting out the same in egall partes 
 To either of my lordes your graces sonnes, 
 That thinke I best for this your realmes behofe, 
 For profile and advauncement of your sonnes, 
 And for your comfort and your honour eke. 
 But so to place them while your life do last, 
 To yelde to them your royall governaunce, 
 To be above them onely in the name 
 Of father, not in kingly state also, 
 I thinke not good for you, for them, nor us. 
 This kingdome since the bloudie civill fielde 
 13 Where Morgan slaine did yeld his conquered part 
 
 ' Ned, thou must begin 
 
 ' Now to forget thy study and thy books, 
 ' And ure thy shoulders to an armour's weight." 
 Ascham's Toxophihis, p. 87. Bennet's Edition : 
 
 ' What thing a man in tender age hath most in ure, 
 ' That same to death always to kepe he shall be sure." 
 13 Where Morgan slaine did yeld his conquered part 
 
 Unto his cosins sworde in Cumberland,] See Geofiry of Mon- 
 mouth, b. ii. c. 15. He is there called Margan, and is said to have 
 been killed by his brother Cunedagius, in a contest similar to the 
 present between 1'errex and Porrex,
 
 SC. II.] FERREX AND PORREX. 125 
 
 Unto his cosins sworde in Camberland *, 
 
 Conteineth all that whilome did suffice 
 
 Three noble sonnes of your forefather Brute ; 
 
 So your two sonnes it may suffice also, 
 
 The moe H the stronger, if they gree in one : 
 
 The smaller compasse that the realme doth holde. 
 
 The easier is the svvey thereof to welde, 
 
 The nearer justice to the wronged poore, 
 
 The smaller charge, and yet ynoughe for one. 
 
 And whan the region is divided so 
 
 That brethren be the lordes of either parte, 
 
 Such strength doth nature knit betwene them both 
 
 In sondrie bodies by conjoyned love, 
 
 That not as two, but one of doubled force, 
 
 Eche is to other as a sure defence: 
 
 The noblenesse and glory of the one 
 
 Doth sharpe the courage of the others mynde 
 
 With vertuous en vie to contende for praise. 
 
 And such an eagalnesse lb hath nature made 
 
 Betweene the brethren of one father's seede, 
 
 As an unkindly wrong it seemes to be, 
 
 To throwe the brother-subject under feete 
 
 Of him whose peere he is by course of kinde: 
 
 And nature that did make this egalnesse 
 
 Ofte so repineth * at so great a wrong, 
 
 That ofte she rayseth up a grudginge griefe 
 
 In yonger brethren at the elders state : 
 
 Wherby both townes and kingdomes have been rased, 
 
 And famous flockes of royall blood destroied ; 
 
 The brother that shoulde be the brothers aide, 
 
 * " Cumberland," edit. 1590. 
 
 u moe] i. e. more. The ancient way of spelling and pronouncing 
 this word. 
 
 '5 egalnesse] i.e. equality. So, in Erasmus's Praia of Folie, 1549, 
 Sign. D : " And friendship is never properly knitte, but betweene 
 " men of egall estate and condition." 
 
 Hall's Chronicle, Henry IV. p. 24 : " affirmyng farther, that no 
 " kyng anointed of very dutie was either bound or obliged to an- 
 " swere any challenge but to his pere of egall estate and equivolent 
 " dignitie." 
 
 t " Sore pineth." edit. 1590.
 
 126 . FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT I. 
 
 And have a wakefull care for his defence, 
 
 Gapes for his death, and blames the lyngering yeres, 
 
 That draw * not forth his ende with faster course ; 
 
 And, oft impacient of so longe delayes. 
 
 With hatefull slaughter he prevents the fates, 
 
 And heapes a just rewarde for brothers bloode, 
 
 With endlesse vengeaunce on his stocke for aye. 
 
 Such mischiefes here are wisely mette withall, 
 
 If egall state may nourishe egall love, 
 
 Where none hath cause to grudge at others good. 
 
 But nowe the head to stoupe beneth them both, 
 
 Ne kinde, ne reason, ne good ordre beares. 
 
 And oft it hath ben scene, where nature's course 
 
 Hath ben perverted in disordered wise, 
 
 When fathers cease to know that they should rule, 
 
 And children cease to know they should obey, 
 
 That often over kindly f tendernesse 
 
 la mother of unkindly stubbornesse, 
 
 I speake not this in envie or reproche, 
 
 As if 1 grudgded the glorie of your sonnes, 
 
 Whose honour I besech the Goddes encrease: 
 
 Nor yet as if I thought there did remaine, 
 
 So filthie cankers in their noble brestes, 
 
 Whom I esteeme (which is their greatest praise, 
 
 Undoubted children of so-good a kyng ; 
 
 Onelie I meane to shewe by certaine rules, 
 
 Which kinde hath graft within the mind, of man, 
 
 That nature hath her ordre and her course, 
 
 Which (being broken) doth corrupt the state 
 
 Of myndes and thinges even in the best of all. 
 
 My lordes, your sonnes, may learne to rule of you, 
 
 Your owne example in your noble course 
 
 Is fittest guyder of their youthful yeares. 
 
 If you desire to see some present joye 
 
 By sight of their vvell-rulynge in your lyfe, 
 
 See them obey, so shall you see them rule 
 
 Who so obeyeth not with humblenesse 
 
 Will rule with outrage and with insolence. 
 
 " Brings." edit. 1590. 
 
 t " Our unkindly." edit. 1590.
 
 SC. II.] FERREX AND PORREX. 127 
 
 Longe may they rule, I do beseche the Goddes, 
 But longe may they learne, ere they begyn to rule. 
 If kinde and fates would suffre I would wishe 
 Them aged princes and immortal kinges : 
 Wherfore, most noble kynge, I will assent, 
 Betwene your sonnes that you divide your realme, 
 And as in kinde, so match them in degree : 
 But while the Goddes prolong your royall life, 
 Prolong your reigne, for therto lyve you here, 
 And therfore have the Goddes so long forborne 
 To joyne you to themselves, that still you might 
 Be prince and father of our common weale. 
 They when they see your children ripe to rule, 
 Will make them roume, and will remove you hence, 
 That yours in right ensuynge of your life 
 May rightly honour your immortall name. 
 
 Eubulus. Your wonted true regarde of faithfull hartes 
 Makes me (O kinge) the bolder to presume 
 To speake what I conceive within my brest, 
 Although the same do not agree at all 
 With that which other here my lordes have said, 
 Nor which yourselfe have seemed best to lyke. 
 Pardon I crave, and that my wordes be denied 
 To flowe fromhartie zeale unto your grace, 
 And to the safetie of your common weale. 
 To parte your realme unto my lordes your sonnes 
 I thinke not good for you, ne yet for them, 
 But worste of all for this our native lande : 
 Within *one land, one single rule is best : 
 Divided reignes t do make divided hartes, 
 But peace preserves the countrey and the prince. 
 Suche is in man the gredy minde to reigne, 
 So great is his desire to climbe alofte, 
 In worldly stage the stateliest partes to beare, 
 That faith and justice and all kindly love 
 Do yelde unto desire of soveraigntie, 
 Where egall state doth raise an egall hope 
 To winne the thing that either wold attaine. 
 
 *" For with." Edit. 1590. t Regions. Edit. 1590.
 
 128 FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT II. 
 
 Your grace remembreth how in passed ye'res, 
 
 The mightie Brute, first prince of all this lande 16 , 
 
 Possessed the same, and ruled it well in one ; 
 
 He thinking that the compasse did suffice 
 
 For his three sonnes, three kingdoms eke to make, 
 
 Cut it in three, as you would now in twaine ; 
 
 But how much British bloud hath since bene spilt, 
 
 To joyne againe the sondred unitie ! 
 
 What princes slaine before their timely houre ! 
 
 What waste of townes and people in the lande ! 
 
 What treasons heaped on murders and on spoiles ! 
 
 Whose just revenge even yet is scarcely ceased, 
 
 Ruthefull remembraunce is yet rawe in minde. 
 
 The Gods forbyd the like to chaunce againe ! 
 
 And you (O king) geve not the cause thereof. 
 
 My lord Ferrex your elder sonne, perhappes 
 
 Whome kinde and custome geves arightfull hope 
 
 To be your heire and to succede your reigne, 
 
 Shall thinke that he doth suffer greater wronge 
 
 Then he perchaunce will beare, if power serve ; 
 
 Porrex, the younger, so upraised* in state, 
 
 Perhappes in courage will be raysed also ; 
 
 If flatterie then, which fayles not to assaile 
 
 The tendre mindes of yet unskilfull youth, 
 
 In one shall kindle and encrease disdaine, 
 
 And envie in the others harte enflame; 
 
 This fire shall waste their love, their lives, their land, 
 
 And ruthefull ruine shall destroy them both. 
 
 I wish not thys (O kyng) so to befall, 
 
 But feare the thing, that I do most abhorre. 
 
 Geve no beginning to so dreadfull ende, 
 
 Kepe them in order and obedience, 
 
 And let them both by now obeying you, 
 
 Learne such behaviour as beseemes their state ; 
 
 The elder myldenesse in his governaunce, 
 
 The yonger, a yelding contentednesse : 
 
 And kepe them neare unto your presence still, 
 
 < 6 The mightie Brute, first prince of all this land.'] See Geoffry of 
 Monmouth, book i. 
 
 * " Unpaised." Edit. 1590.
 
 SC. II.] VERREX AND PORREX. 129 
 
 Thai they, restreyned by the awe of you, 
 
 May live in compasse of well-tempred staye, 
 
 And passe the perrilles of their youthfull yeares. 
 
 Your aged life drawes on to febler tyme, 
 
 Wherin you shall lesse able be to beare 
 
 The travailes that in youth you have susteyned, 
 
 Both in your person's and your realme's defence. 
 
 If planting now your sonnes in furder partes, 
 
 You sende them furder from your present reach, 
 
 Lesse shall you know how they themselves demeane : 
 
 Traiterous corrupters of their plyant youth 
 
 Shall have unspied a muche more free accesse : 
 
 And if ambition, and inflamed disdaine 
 
 Shall arme the one, the other, or them both, 
 
 To civil I warre, or to usurping pride, 
 
 Late shall you rue that you ne recked 17 before. 
 
 Good is I graunt of all to hope the best, 
 
 But not to live still dreadlesse of the worst. 
 
 So truste the one, that th'other be forsene, 
 
 Arme not unskilfulnesse with princely power. 
 
 But you that long have wisely ruled the reynes 
 
 Of royaltie within your noble realme, 
 
 So holde them, while the Gods for our avayles 
 
 Shall stretch the thred of your prolonged dales. 
 
 To soone he clambe into the flaming carre 
 
 Whose want of skill did set the earth on fire: 
 
 Time and example of your noble grace, 
 
 Shall teache your sonnes both to obey and rule: 
 
 When time hath taught them, time shall make them 
 
 place, 
 
 The place that now is full ; and so I pray 
 Long it remaine, to comforte of us all. 
 
 Gorboduc. I take your faithful harts in thankfull part ; 
 But sithe I see no cause to draw my miride, 
 To feare the nature of my loving sonnes, 
 Or to misdeme that envie or disdaine 
 Can there worke hate, where nature planteth love, 
 
 * " Demaund." Edit. 1590. 
 
 17 recked] See Note 33 to Tanked and Gismuntla, vol. IT.
 
 130 . FERREX AND FORREX. [ACT I, 
 
 In one selfe purpose do I still abide. 
 
 My love extendeth egally to both, 
 
 My lande suffiseth for them both also : 
 
 Humber shall parte the marches of theyr realmes : 
 
 The sotherne parte the elder shall possesse, 
 
 The northerne shall Porrex the yonger rule : 
 
 In quiet I will passe mine aged dayes, 
 
 Free from the travaile and the painefull cares 
 
 That hasten age upon the worthiest kinges. 
 
 But lest the fraude that ye do seeme to feare, 
 
 Of flattering tongues, corrupt their tender youth 
 
 And wrythe them to the wayes of youthfull lust, 
 
 To climyng pride or to revenging hate, 
 
 Or to neglecting of their carefull charge 
 
 Lewdely to live in wanton recklessnesse, 
 
 Or to oppressing of the rightfull cause, 
 
 Or not to wreke the wronges done to the poore, 
 
 To treade downe truth, or favour false deceit, 
 
 I meane to joyne to either of my sonnes, 
 
 Some one of those whose long approved faith 
 
 And wisdome tryed may well assure my harte, 
 
 That mynyng fraude shall finde no way to crepe 
 
 Into their fensed eares with grave advise. 
 
 This is the ende, and so I pray you all 
 
 To bear my sonnes the love and loyaltie 
 
 That I have founde within your faithfull brestes. 
 
 Arostus. You, nor your sonnes, our soveraign lord, 
 
 shall want 
 Our faith and service while our lives do last. 
 
 Chorus. When settled stay doth holde the royall 
 
 throne, 
 
 In stedfast place by knowen and doubtles right; 
 And chiefely when discent on one alone 
 Makes single and unparted reigne to light ; 
 Ech chaunge of course unjoints the whole estate 
 And yeldes it thrall to ruine by debate. 
 
 The strength that knit by faste accorde in one, 
 Against all forrein power of mightie foes, 
 Could of itselfe defend itselfe alone, 
 Disjoyned once, the former force doth lose.
 
 SC. II.] FERREX AND PORREX. 131 
 
 The stickes, that sondred brake so soone in twaine, 
 In faggot bounde attempted were in vaine. 
 
 Oft tender minde that leades the parciall eye 
 Of erring parents in their childrens love, 
 Destroyes the wrongly * loved childe therby : 
 This doth the proud sonne of Apollo prove, 
 Who, rashely set in chariot of his sire, 
 Inflamed the parched earth with heavens fire. 
 
 And this great king that doth devide his lande, 
 And chaunge the course of his descending crowne, 
 And yeldes the reigne into his childrens hande, 
 From biisful state of joy and great renowne, 
 A myrrour shall become to princes all, 
 To learne to shunne the cause of such a fall. 
 
 The Order and Signification of the Domme Shew 
 before the second Acte. 
 
 First the musicke of cornettes began to playe, during 
 which came in upon the stage a king accompanied with 
 a nombre of his nobilitie and gentlemen. And after 
 he had placed himself in a chaire of estate prepared 
 for him, there came and kneled before him a grave and 
 aged gentleman, and offred up a cuppe unto him of 
 wyne in a glasse, which the king refused. After him 
 commes a brave and lustie yong gentleman, and pre- 
 sentes the king with a cup of golde filled with poyson, 
 which the king accepted, and drinking the same, imme- 
 diately fell downe dead upon the stage, and so was 
 carryed thence away by his lordes and gentlemen, and 
 then the musicke ceased. Hereby was signified, that 
 as glasse by nature holdeth no poyson, but is clere and 
 may easily be seen through, ne boweth by any arte ; so 
 afaijthjuli counsellour holdeth no treason, but isplayne 
 and open, ne yeldeth to anie undiscrete affection, but 
 geveth holesome counsell, which the yll advised prince 
 refuseth. The delightfull golde filled with poyson 
 betokeneth Flattery, which under faire seeming of 
 pleasaunt wordes beareth deadly poyson,which destroyed 
 * " Wrongfull," edit. 1590.
 
 132 ' FERREX AND POREEX. [ACT II. 
 
 the prince that receyveth it. As befell in the two 
 brethren Ferrex and Porrex, who, refusing the holesome 
 advise of grave counsellours, credited these young para- 
 sites, and brought to themselves death and destruction 
 therby. 
 
 ACTUS SECUNDUS. SCENA PRIMA. 
 FERREX, HEUMON, DORDAN. 
 
 Ferrex. I mervaile much what reason ledde the 
 
 king 
 
 My father thus without all my desert 
 To reve me halfe the kingdome, which by course 
 Of lawe and nature should remayne to me. 
 
 Hermon. If you with stubborne and untamed pryde 
 Had stood against him in rebelling* wise, 
 Or if with grudging minde you had envied 
 So slow a sliding of his aged yeres, 
 Or sought before your time to haste the course 
 Of fatall death upon his royall head, 
 Or stained your stocke with murder of your kyn, 
 Some face of reason might perhaps have seemed, 
 To yelde some likely cause to spoyle ye thus. 
 
 Ferrex. The wrekeful gods powre on my cursed 
 
 head 
 
 Eternall plagues and never dying woes : 
 The hellish prince adjudge my dampned ghost 
 To Tantales thirste, or proude Ixions wheele, 
 Or cruell gripe 1S to gnaw my growing f harte, 
 To during tormentes and unquenched flames; 
 If ever I conceyved so foule a thought, 
 To wishe his ende of life, or yet of reigne. 
 
 Dordan. Ne yet your father (O most noble prince) 
 Did ever thinke so fowle a thing of you ; 
 For he with more than fathers tender love 
 While yet the fates do lende him life to rule, 
 
 " Rebellious," edit 1590. 
 
 18 gripe.] A gripe is a griffin, perhaps used here for a vulture. 
 See Cotgrave. S. 
 
 t " Groaning," edit. 1590.
 
 SC. I.] FERREX AND PORREX. 133 
 
 (Who long might lyve to see your ruling well) 
 To you my lorde, and to his other sonne, 
 Lo he resignes his realme and royaltie; 
 Which never would so wise a prince have done, 
 If he had once misdemed that in your harte 
 There ever lodged so unkinde a thought. 
 But tendre love (my lorde) and setled truste 
 Of your good nature, and your noble minde, 
 Made him to place you thus in royall throne, 
 And now to geve you half his renlrne to guide, 
 Yea and that halfe which in * abounding store 
 Of things that serve to make a welthy realme, 
 In stately cities and in fruteful soyle, 
 In temperate breathing of the milder heaven, 
 In things of nedefull use, which frendly sea 
 Transportcs by traffike from the forreine partes, 
 In flowing wealth, in honour and in force, 
 Doth passe the double value of the parte 
 That Porrex hath allotted to his reigne. 
 Such is your case, such is your father's love. 
 
 Ferrex. Ah love, my frends ? love wrongs not whom 
 he loves. 
 
 Dordan. Ne yet he wrongeth you that geveth you 
 So large a reigne ere that the course of time 
 Bring you to kingdome by discended right, 
 Which time perhaps might end your time before, 
 
 Ferrex. Is this no wrong, say you, to reave from me 
 My native right of halfe so great a realme, 
 And thus to match his yonger sonne with me 
 In egall power, and in as great degree? 
 Yea and what sonne? the sonne whose swelling pride 
 Woulde never yelde one pointe of reverence, 
 When I the elder and apparaunt heire 
 Stoode in the likelihode to possesse the whole; 
 Yea and that sonne which from his childish age 
 Envieth myne honour, and doth hate my life, 
 What will he now do ? when his pride, his rage, 
 The mindfull malice or his grudging harte 
 
 * " Within," edit 1590.
 
 134 FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT II. 
 
 Is armed with force, with wealth and kingly state ? 
 
 Herman. Was this not wrong? yea yll advised 
 
 wrong, 
 
 To give so mad a man so sharpe a sworde, 
 To so great perill of so great missehappe, 
 Wide open thus to set so large a waye ? 
 
 Dordan. Alas, my lord, what griefull thing is this 
 That of your brother you can thinke so ill ? 
 I never saw him utter likelie signe 
 Whereby a man might see or once misdeme 
 Such hate of you, ne such unyelding pride : 
 III is their counsel!, shameful! be their ende, 
 That raysing such mistrustful feare in you, 
 Sowing the seede of such unkindly hate, 
 Travaile by treason to destroy you both. 
 Wise is your brother and of noble hope, 
 Worthie to welde a large and mighty realme ; 
 So much a stronger frende have you therby, 
 Whose strength is your strength, if you gree in one. 
 
 Herman. If nature and the goddes had pinched so 
 Their flowing bountie and their noble giftes 
 Of princelie qualities from you, my lorde, 
 And powrde them all at ones in wastfull wise 
 Upon your fathers yonger sonne alone, 
 Perhappes there be that iu your prejudice 
 Would say that birth should yeld to worthinese : 
 But sithe in eche good gift and princelie arte * 
 Ye are his matche, and in the chiefe of all 
 In mildnesse and in sobre governaunce, 
 Ye farre surmount ; and sith there is in you 
 Sufficing skill and hopefull towardnesse, 
 To weld the whole and match your elders prayse ; 
 I see no cause why ye should loose the halfe, 
 Ne would I wishe you yelde to such a losse, 
 Lest your milde sufferaunce of so great a vvronge 
 Be deemed cowardishe and simple dreade ; 
 Which shall geve courage to the fiery head 
 Of your yonge brother to invade the whole. 
 
 * " Acte," edit. 1590.
 
 SC. I.] FERREX AND PORREX. 135 
 
 While yet therfore stickes in the peoples minde 
 The lothed wrong of your disheritaunce, 
 And ere your brother have by settled power, 
 By guilefull cloke of an alluring showe, 
 Got him some force and favour in the realine: 
 And while the noble queene your mother lyves, 
 To worke and practise all for your availe, 
 Attempt redresse by arms, and wreake yourself" 
 Upon his life that gayneth by your losse, 
 Who nowe to shame of you, and griefe of us, 
 In your owne kingdome triumphes over you. 
 Shew now your courage meete for kingly state, 
 That they which have avowed to spend theyr goods, 
 Their landes, their lives and honours in your cause, 
 May be the bolder to mainteyne your parte 
 When they do see that cowarde feare in you 
 Shall not betray, ne faile their faithfull hartes. 
 If once the death of Porrex ende the strife, 
 And pay the price of his usurped reigne, 
 Your mother shall perswade the angry kyng, 
 The lords your frends eke shall appease his rage 
 For they be wise and well they can forsee, 
 That ere long time your aged fathers death 
 Will bryng a time when you shall well requite 
 Their friendlie favour, or their hateful spite, 
 Yea, or their slacknesse to avaunce your cause. 
 " Wise men do not so hang on passing state 
 " Of present princes, chiefely in their age, 
 " But they will further cast their reaching eye 
 " To viewe and weye the times and reignes to come." 
 Ne is it likely though the king be wrothe, 
 That he yet will, or that the realme will beare 
 Extreme revenge upon his onely sonne; 
 Or if he woulde, what one is he that dare 
 Be minister to such an enterprise ? 
 And here you be now placed in your owne, 
 Amyd your frendes, your vassalles and your strength 
 We shall defende and kepe your person safe, 
 Till either counsell turne his tender minde, 
 19 wreake t/oursej/"] i. e. revenge yourself.
 
 136 . FEHREX AND PORREX. [ACT II. 
 
 Or age or sorrow ende his werie dayes. 
 
 But if the feare of goddes, and secret grudge 
 
 Of natures law, repining at the fact, 
 
 Witholde your courage from so great attempt; 
 
 Know ye that lust of kingdomes hath no law, 
 
 The goddes do beare and well allow in kinges 
 
 The thinges that they abhorre in rascall routes. 
 
 ' When kinges on slender quarrels runne to warres> 
 
 ' And then in cruell and unkindely wise 
 
 * Commaund theftes, rapes, murder of innocents, 
 
 ' To spoile of townes, ruines of mighty realms, 
 
 ' Thinke you such princes do suppose themselves 
 
 ' Subject to lawes of kinde and feare of gods ?" 
 
 Murders and violent theftes in private men 
 
 Are hainous crimes and full of foule reproch ; 
 
 Yet none offence, but deckt with glorious name 
 
 Of noble conquestes in the handes of kinges.* 
 
 But if you like not yet so hole devise, 
 
 Ne list to take such vauntage of the time, 
 
 But, though with perill of your owne estate, 
 
 You will not be the first that shall invade, 
 
 Assemble yet your force for your defence, 
 
 And for your safetie stand upon your garde. 
 
 Dordan. O heaven ! was there ever heard or knowne, 
 So wicked counsell to a noble prince ? 
 Let me (my lord) disclose unto your grace 
 This hainous tale, what mischiefe it contanes ; 
 Your fathers death, your brothers, and your owne, 
 Your present murder and eternall shame. 
 Heare me (O king) and suffer not to sinke 
 So high a treason in your princely brest. 
 
 Ferrex. The mighty goddes forbid that ever I 
 Should once conceave such mischiefe in my hart ! 
 Although my brother hath bereft my realme, 
 And beare perhappes to me an hateful 1 minde, 
 Shall I revenge it with his death therefore? 
 Or shall I so destroy my father's life 
 That gave me life ? The gods forbid, I say ; 
 
 * In the copy of 1590, this and the three preceding lines are 
 transposed so as to make nonsense of the passage. C.
 
 SC. I.] FERREX AND PORREX. 137 
 
 Cease you to speake so any more to me, 
 Ne you my frencl with answere once repeate 
 So foule a tale. In silence let it dye: 
 What lord or subject shall have hope at all, 
 That under me they safely shall enjoye 
 Their goods, their honours, landes and liberties, 
 With whom, neither one onely brother deare, 
 Ne father dearer, could enjoye their lives? 
 But sith, I feare my yonger brother's rage, 
 And sith perhapes some other man may geve 
 Some like advise, to move his grudging head 
 At mine estate, which counsell may perchaunce 
 Take greater force with him, then this with me, 
 T will in secrete so prepare myselfe, 
 As if his malice or his lust to reigne, 
 Breake forth in armes or sodeine violence 
 I may withstand his rage and keepe mine owne. 
 
 Durdan. \ feare the fatal time now draweth on, 
 When civill hate shall end the noble line 
 Of famous Brute and of his royall seede; 
 Great Jove defend the mischiefes now at hand ! 
 O, that the secretaries wise advise 
 Had erst bene heard, when he besought the king 
 Not to divide his land, nor send his sonnes 
 To further partes from presence of his court, 
 Ne yet to yelde to them his governaunce. 
 Lo such are they now in the royall throne 
 As was rashe Phaeton in Phoebus carre ; 
 Ne then the fiery stedes did draw the flame 
 With wilder randon through the kindled skies, 
 Than traitorous counsell now will whirle about 
 The youthfull heades of these unskilfull kinges. 
 But I hereof their father will enforme ; 
 The reverence of him perhappes shall stay 
 The growing mischiefes, while they yet are greene: 
 If this helpe not, then woe unto themselves, 
 The prince, the people, the divided land.
 
 138 FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT II 
 
 ACTUS SECUNDUS. SCENA SECUNDA. 
 
 PORREX. TYNDAR. PHILANDER. 
 
 Porrex. And is it thus ? and doth he so prepare 
 Against his brother as his mortall foe ? 
 And now while yet his aged father lives? 
 Neither regardes he him, nor feares he me? 
 Warre would he have? and he shall have it so. 
 
 Tyndar. I saw myselfe the great prepared store 
 Of horse, of armour, and of weapons there, 
 Ne bring I to my lord reported tales, 
 Without the ground of seen and searched trouth. 
 Loe secrete quarrells runne about his court, 
 To bring the name of you my lorde in hate ; 
 Ech man almost can now debate the cause, 
 And aske a reason of so great a wrong, 
 Why he so noble, and so wise a prince, 
 Is as unworthy reft his heritage. 
 And why the king, misseledde by craftie meanes, 
 Divided thus his land from course of right? 
 The wiser sort holde downe their griefull heades, 
 Eche man withdrawes from talke and company 
 Of those that have bene knowne to favour you 
 To hide the mischiefe of their meaning there. 
 Rumours are spread of your preparing here: 
 The rascall numbers of unskilfull sort 
 Are filled with monstrous tales of you and yours. 
 In secrete I was counselled by my frendes 
 To hast me thence, and brought you as you know 
 Letters from those that both can truely tell, 
 And would not write unlesse they knew it well. 
 
 Philander. My lord, yet ere you move unkindly warre, 
 Send to your brother to demaund the cause : 
 Perhappes some traiterous tales have filled his eares 
 With false reportes against your noble grace, 
 Which once disclosed shall end the growing strife, 
 That els not stayed with wise foresight in time 
 Shall hazarde both your kingdomes and your lives. 
 Send to your father eke, he shall appease
 
 SC. II.] FERREX AND PORREX. 139 
 
 Your kindled mindes, and rid you of this feare. 
 
 Porrex. Ridde me of feare? I feare^him not at all, 
 Ne will to him, ne to my father send : 
 If danger were for one to tary there, 
 Thinke ye it safetie to returne againe? 
 In mischiefes such as Ferrex now intendes, 
 The wonted courteous lawes to messengers 
 Are not observed, which in just warre they use. 
 Shall I so hazard any one of mine ? 
 Shall I betray my trusty frendes to him 
 That hath disclosed his treason unto me? 
 Let him entreate that feares, I feare him not: 
 Or shall I to the king my father send ? 
 Yea and send now while such a mother lives, 
 That loves my brother and that hateth me? 
 Shall I geve leasure by my fonde delayes 
 To Ferrex to oppresse me all unware ? 
 I will not, but I will invade his realme 
 And seeke the traitour prince within his court: 
 Mischiefe for mischiefe is a due reward. 
 His wretched head shall pay the worthy price 
 Of this his treason and his hate to me. 
 Shall I abide, and treate, and send and pray, 
 And holde my yelden throate to traitours knife ; 
 While I with valiant minde and conquering force 
 Might rid myselfe of foes and winne a realme? 
 Yet rather when I have the wretches head, 
 Then to the king my father will I send, 
 The bootelesse case may yet appease his wrath ; 
 If not, I will defend me as I may. 
 
 Philander. Lo here the 'end of these two youthful 
 
 kings, 
 
 The fathers death, the ruine of their realmes. 
 " O most unhappy state of counsellors, 
 " That light on so unhappy lordes and times, 
 " That neither can their good advise be heard, 
 " Yet must they beare the blames of ill successe !" 
 But I will to the king their father haste, 
 Ere this mischiefe come to the likely end, 
 That if the mindfull wrath of wrekefull gods,
 
 140 FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT III. 
 
 Since mightie Ilions fall not yet appeased 
 
 With these poore remnantes of the Trojan name 
 
 Have not determin'd by unmoved fate 
 
 Out of this realme to raise the Brittishe * line, 
 
 By good advise, by awe of father's name, 
 
 By force of wiser lordes, this kindled hate 
 
 May yet be quenched ere it consume us all. 
 
 Chorus. When youth not bridled with a guiding stay 
 Is left to randon of their own delight. 
 And welds whole realmes by force of sovereign sway, 
 Great is the daunger of unmaistred might, 
 Lest skillesse rage throwes downe with headlong fall 
 Their lands, their states, their lives, themselves and all. 
 
 When growing pride doth fill the swelling brest, 
 And gredy lust doth rayse the climbing minde, 
 Oh hardlie maye the perill be represt, 
 Ne feare of angrie goddes, ne lawes kinde, 
 Ne countries care can fired hartes restrayne 
 Whan force hath armed envie and disdaine : 
 
 When kinges of foresette will neglect the rede 21 
 Of best advise, and yelde to pleasing tales, 
 That do their fansies noysome humour feede, 
 Ne reason, nor regarde of right availes; 
 Succeding heapes of plagues shall teach to late 
 To learne the mischiefes of misguided state. 
 
 Fowle fall the traitour false that undermines 
 The love of brethren to destroye them both. 
 Wo to the prince, that pliant care enclynes 
 And yeldes his minde to poysonous tale that floweth 
 From flattering mouth ; and woe to wretched land 
 That wastes itselfe with civill sworde in hande. 
 
 Loe, thus it is, poyson in golde to take, 
 
 And holsome drinke in homely cuppe forsake. 
 
 * " Brutishe" Edit. 1590. 
 
 90 foresette] i e. foresight. 
 
 Mr.Reed's opinion that foresette is to be vmderstood/oresigfa seems 
 very questionable : the meaning of the line seems rather to be 
 " when kings of fare-set purpost will neglect to listen to the best ad- 
 " vice." There is no instance in any other author where foresight 
 is apeltforesette. C. 
 
 al rede], i. e. advice. See Note 42 to Gammer Gurton's Needle, 
 vol. II.
 
 SC. 1.] FERREX AND PORREX. 
 
 The Order and Signification of the Dorame Shewe 
 before the thirde Act. 
 
 First, the musicke of flutes began to playe, during which 
 came in upon the stage a company of mourners all 
 clad in blacke, betokening death and sorrows to ensue 
 upon the ill advistd misgovernement and discention of 
 brethrerie, as befell upon the murder of Ferrex, by his 
 yonger brother. After the mourners had passed thryse 
 about the stage, they departed, and then the musicke 
 ceased. 
 
 ACTUS TERTIUS. SCENA PRIMA. 
 
 GoKBODUC. EUBULUS. AROSTUS. PHILANDER. 
 NuNTIUS. 
 
 Gorboduc, cruell fates, O mindful wrath of goddes, 
 Whose vengeance neither Simois stayned streames 
 Flowing with bloud of Trojan princes slaine ; 
 Nor Phrygian fieldes made ranck with corpses dead 
 Of Asian kinges and lordes can yet appease, 
 Ne slaughter of unhappie Pryam's race, 
 Nor Ilions fall made levell with the soile, 
 Can yet suffise : but still continued rage 
 Pursues our lyves, and from the farthest seas 
 Doth chase the issues of destroied Troye. 
 Oh no man happie till his ende be seene? 
 ]f any flowing wealth and seemynge joye 
 In present yeres might make a happy wight, 
 Happie was Hecuba, the wonderfullest wretch 
 That ever lyved to make a myrrour of, 
 And happie Pryam with his noble sonnes, 
 And happie I till nowe. Alas, I see 
 And feele my most unhappie wretchednesse ! 
 Beholde, my lordes, read ye this letter here, 
 Loe it conteins the ruine of our realme, 
 If timelie spede provide not hastie helpe. 
 Yet, (0 ye goddes,) if ever wofull kyng
 
 142 FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT III. 
 
 Might move ye, kings of kinges, wreke it on me 
 And on my sonnes, not on this giltlesse realme. 
 Send downe your wasting flames from wrathfull skies, 
 To reve me and my sonnes the hateful breath. 
 Read, read my lordes : this is the matter why 
 I called ye nowe, to have your good advyse. 
 
 The letter fromDordan the counsellour of the elder prince. 
 
 [Eubulus readeth the letter. 
 
 My soveraigne lord, what I am loth to write 
 But lothest am to see, that I am forced 
 By letters nowe to make you understande. 
 My lord Ferrex, your eldest sonne, misledde 
 By traitorous fraude of yong untempred wittes, 
 Assembleth force agaynst your yonger sonne, 
 Ne can my counsell yet withdrawe the heate 
 And furious panges of his enflamed head : 
 Disdaine (saith he) of his disheritance, 
 Armes him to wreke the great pretended wrong * 
 With civyll sword upon his brother's life. 
 If present helpe do not restraine this rage, 
 This flame will wast your sonnes, your land and you. 
 Your majesty's faithfull, and most humble subject, 
 
 Dor dan. 
 
 Arostus. O king, appease your griefe and stay your 
 
 plaint. 
 
 Great is the matter and a wofull case ; , 
 But timely knowledge may bring timely helpe. 
 Send for them both unto your presence here : 
 The reverence of your honour, age, and state, 
 Your grave advice, the awe of father's name 
 Shall quicklie knit agayne this,broken peace: 
 And if in either of my lordes your sonnes 
 Be suche untamed and unyelding pride 
 As will not bende unto your noble hestes 22 ; 
 
 * i. e. intended wrong. See note 48 to the Jew of Malta, vol. 
 VIII. where various instances of the use of pretend for intend are 
 given, C. 
 
 24 nestes,] Commands. See note 5 to Tancred and Gismunda 
 vol. II.
 
 SC. I.] FERREX AKD PORREX. 143 
 
 If Ferrex th' elder sonne can bear no peere, 
 Or Porrex not content, aspire to more 
 Than you him gave above his native right, 
 Joyne with the juster side ; so shall you force 
 Them to agree, and holde the lande in stay. 
 
 Eubulus. What meaneth this ? loe yonder comes in 
 
 hast 
 Philander from my lord your yonger sonne. 
 
 Gorboduc. The goddes sende joyful newes ! 
 
 Philander. The mightie Jove 
 Preserve your majestic, O noble king. 
 
 Gorboduc. Philander, welcome : but how doth my 
 sonne ? 
 
 Philander. Your sonne, sir, lyves and healthie I him 
 
 left: 
 
 But yet (O king) this want of lustfull health 
 Could not be halfe so griefefull to your grace, 
 As these most wretched tidynges that I bryng. 
 
 Gorboduc, O heavens, yet more ? no ende of woes to 
 me ? 
 
 Philander. Tyndar, O king, came lately from the 
 
 court 
 
 Of Ferrex, to my lord your yonger sonne, 
 And made reporle of great prepared store 
 For warre, and sayth that it is wholly ment 
 Agaynst Porrex, for high disdayne that he 
 Lyves now a king and egall in degree 
 With him, that clairaeth to succede the whole, 
 As by due title of discencling right. 
 Porrex is nowe so set on flaming fire, 
 Partely with kindled rage of cruell wrath, 
 Partely with hope to gaine a realme thereby, 
 That he in hast prepareth to invade 
 His brother's land, and with unkindely warre 
 Threatens the murder of your elder sonne : 
 Ne could I him perswade that first he should 
 Send to his brother to demaunde the cause : 
 Nor yet to you to staie this hateful strife. 
 Wherefore sith there no more I can be hearde, 
 I come myselfe now to enforme your grace,
 
 144 . FERREX AND PORREX. [AC't III. 
 
 And to beseche you, as you love the life 
 And safetie of your children and your realme, 
 Now to employ your wisdome and your force 
 To staye this mischiefe ere it be too late. 
 
 Gorboduc. Are they in armes ? would he not sende 
 
 to me? 
 
 Is this the honour of a father's name ? 
 In vain we travaile to asswage their mindes, 
 As if their hartes, whom neither brother's love, 
 Nor father's awe, nor kingdomes care can move, 
 Our counsells could withdrawe from raging heat. 
 Jove slay them both, and end the cursed line ! 
 For though perhappes feare of such mightie force 
 As I, my lordes, joyned with your noble aides, 
 Maye yet raise, shall represse their present heate, 
 The secret grudge and malice will remayne : 
 The fire not quenched, but kept in close restraint 
 Fedde still within, breakes forth with double flame. 
 Their death and myne must peaze a the angrie gods. 
 
 Philander. Yelde, not, O king, so much to weake 
 
 dispeire ; 
 
 Your sonnes yet lyve, and long I trust they shall. 
 If fates had taken you from earthly life, 
 Before beginning of this civyll strife, 
 Perhaps your sonnes, in their unmaistered youth, 
 Loose from regarde of any lyvyng wight, 
 Would runne on headlong, with unbridled race 
 To their owne death, and ruine of thisr realme : 
 But sith the gods that have the care for kinges, 
 Of thinges and times dispose the order so 
 That in your life this kindled flame breakes forlh, 
 While yet your lyfe, your wisdome and your power 
 May stay the growing mischiefe, and represse 
 The fierie blaze of their inkindled heate, 
 It seemes, and so ye ought to deeme thereof, 
 That lovyng Jove hath tempred so the time 
 
 23 peate.'] i. e. appease. S. 
 
 It is used iii the same way in the first scene of the next act. The 
 printer of the copy of 1590, perhaps, not thinking that it would be 
 understood, printed it appiase. C.
 
 9C. I.J FERREX AND PORREX. 14.5 
 
 Of this debate to happen in your dayes, 
 That you yet lyving may the same appeaze, 
 And adcle it to the glory of your age 24 , 
 And they your sonnes may learne to live in peace. 
 Beware (O king) the greatest harme of all, 
 Lest by your waylefull plaints your hastened death 
 Yelde large roume unto their growing rage : * 
 Preserve your life, the onely hope of stay : 
 And if youi highnes herein list to use 
 Wisdome or force, counsell or knightly aide, 
 Loe we, our persons, powers, and lyves are yours ; 
 Use us tyll death, O king, we are your owne. 
 
 Eubulus. Loe here the perill that was erst foresene, 
 When you (O king) did first devide your lande, 
 And yelde your present reigne unto your sonnes. 
 But now (O noble prince) now is no time 
 To waile and plaine, and wast your wofull life, 
 Now is the time for present good advise, 
 Sorow doth darke the judgement of the wytte ; 
 " The hart unbroken and the courage free 
 " From febie faintenesse of bootelesse despeire 
 " Doth either ryse to safetie or renowne, 
 " By noble valure of unvanquisht minde, 
 " Or yet doth perishe in more happy sort." 
 Your grace may send to either of your sonnes 
 Some one both wise and noble personage, 
 Which with good counsell and with weightie name 
 Of father shall present before their eyes 
 Your hest, your life, your safetie, and their owne; 
 The present mischiefe of their deadly strife : 
 And in the while assemble you the force 
 Which your commaundement and the spedy hast 
 Of all my lordes here present can prepare : 
 The terrour of your mightie power shall staye 
 The rage of both, or yet of one at lest. 
 
 21 your age.] The second and third editions read, your latter agt. 
 The alteration by Mr. Spence. 
 
 The edit, of 1590 has this line thus : 
 
 " Yelde larger roume unto this growing rage ;" 
 which is an improvement of the metre ; and so Mr. Hawkins re- 
 printed it in his Origin of the English Drama. C. 
 
 VOL. I. I.
 
 146 FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT IV. 
 
 Nuntius. O king, the greatest griefe that ever prince 
 
 dyd heare, 
 
 That ever wofull messenger did tell, 
 That ever wretched land hath sene before 
 I bryng to you. Porrex your yonger sonne 
 With soden force invaded hath the lande 
 That you to Ferrex did allotte to rule : 
 And with his owne most bloudy hand he hath 
 His brother slaine, and doth possesse his realme. 
 Gorboduc. O heavens send down the flames of your 
 
 revenge ! 
 
 Destroy, I say, with flash of wreakefull fier 
 The traitour sonne, and then the wretched sire. 
 But let us go, that yet perhappes I may 
 Die with revenge, and pease the hatefull gods. 
 
 Chorut. The lust of kingdome knowes no sacred 
 
 faith, 
 
 No rule of reason, no regarde of right, 
 No kindely love, no feare of heaven's wrath, 
 But with contempt of goddes, and man's despite. 
 Through blodie slaughter doth prepare the waies, 
 To fatall scepter and accursed reigne. 
 The sonne so lothes the father's lingering daies, 
 Ne dreades his hand in brother's blode to staine. 
 O wrgtched prince, ne dost thou yet recorde 
 The yet fresh murthers done within the lande 
 Of thy forefathers, when the cruell sworde 
 24 Bereft Morgan his life with cosyn's hand ? 
 Thus fatall plagues pursue the giltie race, 
 Whose murderous hand, imbrued with giltlesse blood, 
 Askes vengeance still before the heavens face, 
 With endlesse mischiefes on the cursed broode. 
 The wicked childe thus bring.es to wofull sire 
 The mournefull plaintes to wast his very life : 
 Thus do the cruell flames of civyll fier 
 Destroy the parted reigne with hatefull strife. 
 And hence doth spring the well from which doth flow, 
 The dead black streames of mourning, plaints and 
 
 woe. 
 
 24 Bereft Morgan his life, &c.] See Act 2. Sc. 2.
 
 SC. I.] FEUREX AND PORIIEX. 147 
 
 The Order and Signification of the Domme Shew 
 before the fourth Act. 
 
 First the musick of howeboies began to playe, during 
 which there came from under the stage, as though out 
 of hell, three furies, Alecto, Megera, and Ctisiphone, 
 clad in blacke garmentes sprinkled with bloud and 
 flames, their bodies girt icith snakes, their heds sprc.d 
 with serpentes in stead of heire, the one bearing in her 
 hand a snake, the other a whip, and the third a burn- 
 ing firebrand ; ech driving before them a king and a 
 queene, vjhich moved by furies unnaturally had slaine 
 their owne children. The names of the kings and 
 queenes were these, Tantalus, Medea, AtJtamas, Ino, 
 Cambises, Althea ; after that the furies and these had 
 passed about the stage thrise, they departed, and than 
 the musick ceased : hereby was signified the unnaturall 
 murders to follow, that is to say, Porrex, slaine by his 
 ovme mother; and of king Gorboduc, and queen 
 Videna, killed by their owne subjects. 
 
 ACTUS QUARTUS. SCENA PRIMA. 
 
 VlDENA sola. 
 
 Why should I lyve and linger forth my time 
 In longer life to double my distresse? 
 O me most wofull wight ! whome no mishappe 
 Long ere this day could have bereved hence. 
 Mought not these handes by fortune or by fate 
 Have perst this brest, and life with iron reft ? 
 Or in this palace here where I so long 
 Have spent rny claies, could not that happie houre 
 Once, once have hapt in which these hugie frames 
 With death by fall might have oppressed me? 
 Or should not this most hard and cruell soile, 
 So oft where I have prest my wretched steps, 
 Some time had ruthe of myne accursed life, 
 To rende in twayne and swallow me therein ? 
 So had my bones possessed now in peace 
 Their happie grave within the closed grounde,
 
 148 FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT IV. 
 
 And greadie wormes had gnawen this pyned hart 
 
 Without my feeling payne: so should not now 
 
 This lyving brest remayne the ruthfull tombe 
 
 Wherin my hart, yelden to death, is graved ; 
 
 Nor driery thoughts with panges of pining griefe 
 
 My dolefull minde had not afflicted thus. 
 
 O my beloved sonne, O my swete childe, 
 
 My deare Ferrex, my joye, my lyves delight, 
 
 Is my beloved sonne, is my sweete childe, 
 
 My deare Ferrex, my joye, my lyves delight 
 
 Murdred with cruell death? O hatefull wretch, 
 
 O heynous traitour both to heaven and earth, 
 
 Thou Porrex, thou this damned dede hast wrought, 
 
 Thou Porrex, thou shalt dearly bye S5 the same ! 
 
 Traitour to kinne and kinde, to sire and me, 
 
 To thine owne fleshe, and traitour to thyself. 
 
 The Gods on thee in hell shall wreke the wrath, 
 
 And here in earth this hand shall take revenge 
 
 On thee Porrex, thou false and caitife wight. 
 
 If after bloud so eigre were thy thirst, 
 
 And murderous minde had so possessed thee, 
 
 If such hard hart of rocke and stonie flint 
 
 Lived in thy brest, that nothing els could like 
 
 Thy cruel tyrantes thought but death and bloud, 
 
 Wilde savage beasts mought not their slaughter serve, 
 
 To fede thy greedie will, and in the middest 
 
 Of their entrailes to staine thy deadly handes 
 
 With blood deserved, and drinke thereof thy fill ? 
 
 Or if nought els but death and bloud of man 
 
 Mought please thy lust, could none in Brittaine land, 
 
 Whose hart betorne out of his panting brest 
 
 With thine owne hand, or worke what death thou 
 
 wouldst, 
 
 Suffice to make a sacrifice to peaze* 
 That deadly minde and murderous thought in thee, 
 But he who in the selfe same wombe was wrapped, 
 Where thou in dismall hower receivedst life? 
 Or if necles, nedes thy hand must slaughter make, 
 Moughtest thou not have reached a mortall wound, 
 
 ** bye] aby. See Note 1 1 to George a Green, vol. III. 
 * " Appease," edit. 1590.
 
 SC. II.] FERREX AND PORRF.X. 
 
 149 
 
 And with thy sword have pearsed this cursed wombe 
 
 That the, accursed Ponex, brought to light, 
 
 And geven me a just reward therefore? 
 
 So, Ferrex, yet sweet life mought have enjoyed 
 
 And to his aged father comfort brought, 
 
 With some yong sonne in whom they both might live. 
 
 But whereunto waste I this ruthfull speche 
 
 To thee that hast thy brother's bloud thus shed? 
 
 Shall I still thinke that from this wombe thou sprong ? 
 
 That I thee bare, or take thee for my sonne ? 
 
 No traitour, no : I thee refuse for mine: 
 
 Murderer, I thee renounce, thou art not mine. 
 
 Never, O wretch, this wombe conceived thee, 
 
 28 Nor never bode I painfull throwes for thee; 
 
 Changeling to me thou art, and not my childe, 
 
 Nor to no wight that spark of pitie knew, 
 
 Ruthelesse unkinde, monster of natures worke, 
 
 27 Thou never suckt the milke of woman's brest, 
 
 But from thy birth the cruell tigers teates 
 
 Have nursed thee, nor yet of fleshe and bloud 
 
 Formde is thy hart, but of hard iron wrought ; 
 
 And wilde and desert woods bredde thee to life. 
 
 But canst thou hope to scape my just revenge, 
 
 Or that these hands wilt not be wrooke 48 on thee? 
 
 Doest thou not know that Ferrex mother lives 
 
 That loved him more dearly than herselfe? 
 
 And doth she live, and is not venged on thee ? 
 
 ACTUS QUARTUS. SCENA SECUNDA. 
 
 GORBODUC. AROSTUS. EUBULUS. PORREX. 
 
 MARCELLA. 
 
 Gorboduc. We marvell much wherto this lingring stay 
 Falles out so long: Porrex unto our court 
 By order of our letters is returned; 
 
 26 Nor never bode I, &c.] bode, from the verb to bide. S. 
 
 27 Thou never suckt the milke of woman's breit, &c.] 
 
 Nee tibi diva parens, generis nee Dardanus auctor, 
 Perfide, sed duris genuit te cautibus borrens 
 Caucasus, Hyrcanaeque admoruut ubera tigres. VIRGII. 
 ** wwke] Revenged, from the verb to wreak. S. 
 
 3
 
 150 FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT IV. 
 
 And Eubulus receaved from us byhest, 
 At his arrivall heere to geve him charge 
 Before our presence straight to make repaire, 
 And yet we have no worde whereof he stayes. 
 
 Arostus. Lo where he commes, and Eubulus with him. 
 
 Eubulus. According to your highnesse hest to me 
 Here have I Porrex brought, even in such sort 
 As from his weried horse he did alight, 
 For that your grace did will such hast therein. 
 
 Gorboduc. We like and praise this spedy will in you 
 To worke the thing that to your charge we gave. 
 Porrex, if we so farre should swarve from kinde, 
 And from those boundes which lawes of nature sets, 
 As thou hast done by vile and wretched deede 
 In cruell murder of thy brother's life, 
 Our present hand could stay no longer time, 
 But straight should bathe this blade in bloud of thee, 
 As just revenge of thy detested crime. 
 No, we should not offend the lawe of kinde 
 If now this sword of ours did slay thee here : 
 For thou hast murdered him, whose henious death 
 Even nature Vforce doth move us to revenge 
 By bloud againe : and justice forceth us 
 To measure death for death, thy due desert. 
 Yet sithens thou art our childe, and sith as yet, 
 In this hard case what worde thou canst alledge 
 For thy defence by us hath not bene heard, 
 We are content to staye our will for that 
 Which justice biddes us presently to worke, 
 And geve thee leave to use thy speche at full, 
 If ought thou have to lay for thine excuse. 
 
 Porrex. Neither, O king, I can or will denie 
 But that this hand from Ferrex life hath reft: 
 Which fact how much my dolefull hart doth waile, 
 Oh woulde it mought as full appeare to sight 
 As inward griefe would poure it forth to me: 
 So yet perhappes if ever ruthefull hart 
 Melting in teares within a manly brest, 
 Through depe repentance of his bloudy fact, 
 If ever griefe, if ever wofull man
 
 SC. II.] FERREX AND PORREX. 151 
 
 Might move regreite with sorrowe of his faulte, 
 
 I thinke the torment of my mournefull case 
 
 Knowen to your grace, as I do feele the same, 
 
 Would force even wrath herselfe to pitie me. 
 
 But as the water troubled with the mudde 
 
 Shewes not the face which els the eye should see, 
 
 Even so your irefull minde with stirred thought, 
 
 Cannot so perfectly discerne my cause. 
 
 But this unhappe, amongst so many heapes 
 
 I must content me with, most wretched man, 
 
 That to myselfe I must reserve my woe 
 
 In pining thoughtes of mine accursed fact: 
 
 Since I may not shewe my smallest griefe* 
 
 Suche as it is, and as my brest endures. 
 
 Which I esteeme the greatest miserie 
 
 Of all mishehappes that fortune now can send. 
 
 Not that I restin hope with plaint and teares 
 
 To purchase life : for to the Gods I clepe" 
 
 For true recorde of this my faithful speche, 
 
 Never this hart shall have the thoughtfull dread 
 
 To dye the death that by your graces dome 
 
 By just desert shall be pronounced to me; 
 
 Nor never shall this tongue once spend the speche, 
 
 Pardon to crave, or seeke by sute to live. 
 
 1 meane not this as though I were not touchde 
 
 With care of dreadfull death, or that I helde 
 
 Life in contempt ; but that I know, the minde 
 
 Stoupes to no dread, although the flesh be fraile : 
 
 And for rny gilt, I yelde the same so great 
 
 As in myselfe I find a fear to sue 
 
 For graunt of life. 
 
 (jorboduc. In vaine, O wretch thou shewest 
 A wofull hart? Ferrex now lyes in grave, 
 Slaine by thy hand. 
 
 * The edit, of 1590 has this line more perfectly 
 
 " Since I may not shewe Itcere my smallest 
 
 'Mr. Hawkins also adopted this improvement. C. 
 
 29 I de\>e] I call. See Note 5 to Grim the Collier of Croydan, vol. 
 XL
 
 152 FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT IV. 
 
 Porrex. Yet this, O father, heare, 
 And then I end : Your majestic well knows, 
 That when my brother Ferrex and my selfe 
 By your owne hest were joyned in governaunce 
 Of this your grace's realme of Brittaine land, 
 I never sought, nor travailled for the same; 
 Nor by my selfe, nor by no trend 1 wrought, 
 But from'ycur highnesse will alone it sprong, 
 Of your most gracious goodnesse bent to me : 
 But how my brother's hart even then repined, 
 With swollen disdaine against mine egall rule, 
 Seeing that realme, which by discent should grow 
 Wholly to him, allotted halfe to me ; 
 Even in your highnesse court he now remaines, 
 And with my brother then in nearest place 
 Who can recorde what proofe therof was shewde 
 And how my brother's envious hart appearde: 
 Yet I that judged it my parte to seeke 
 His favour and good will, and loth to make 
 Your highnesse know the thing which should have 
 
 brought 
 
 Grief to your grace, and your offence to him, 
 Hoping my earnest sute should soone have wonne 
 A loving hart within a brother's brest, 
 Wrought in that sort, that, for a pledge of love 
 And faithfull hart, he gave to me his hand. 
 This made me thinke, that he had banisht quite 
 All rancour from his thought, and bare to me 
 Such hartie love, as I did owe to him. 
 But after once we left your graces court 
 And from your highnesse presence lived apart, 
 This egall rule still, still did grudge him so, 
 That now those envious sparkes which erst lay rakte 
 In living cinders of dissembling brest, 
 Kindled so farre within his hart disdaine, 
 That longer could he not refraine from proofe 
 Of secrete practise to deprive me life 
 By poyson's force ; and had bereft me so, 
 If mine owne servant hired to this fact,
 
 SC.II.] FERREX AND POHEEX. 153 
 
 And moved by trouth with to work the same,* 
 In time had not bewrayed it unto me. 
 Whan thus I sawe the knot of love unknitte, 
 AH honest league and faithfull promise broke, 
 The law of kinde and trouth thus rent in twaine, 
 His hart on mischiefe set, and in his brest 
 Black treason hid; then, then did I despeire 
 That ever time could winne him frend to me, 
 s Then saw I how he smiled with slaying knife 
 Wrapped under cloke, then saw I depe deceite 
 Lurke in his face and death prepared for me : 
 Even nature moved me then to holde my life 
 More deare to me then his, and bad this hand, 
 Since uy his life my death must nedes ensue 
 And by his death my life mote be preserved, 
 To shed his bloud, and seeke my safetie so, 
 And wisdome willed me without protract 31 
 In speedie wise to put the same in ure se . 
 Thus have I tolde the cause that moved me 
 To worke my brother's death, and so 1 yeld 
 My life, my death, to judgement of your grace. 
 
 Gorboduc. Oh cruell wight, should any cause pre- 
 
 vaile 
 
 To make thee staine thy hands with brother's bloud ? 
 But what of thee we will resolve to doe, 
 Shall yet remaine unkuowen. Thou in the meane 
 Shalt from our royall presence banisht be, 
 Untill our princely pleasure furder shall 
 To thee be shewed. Depart therefore our sight, 
 Accursed childe. What cruel destenie, 
 
 * Hate seems omitted in this line : it is furnished by the copy 
 of 1590. 
 
 " And moved by troth with hate to woorke the same." 
 The passage is not intelligible without some addition of the 
 kind. C. 
 
 30 Then sate I haw he s>niled with slaying knife 
 
 Wrapped under cMce,] This image is^from Chaucer's Knight's Tale. 
 v. 2000. Tyrwhitt's Edition : 
 
 " The smiler with the knif under the cloke." S. 
 
 31 protract] i. e. delay. S. 
 
 37 ure] See note 12 to this play.
 
 154 FEllREX AND PORUEX. [ACT IT. 
 
 What froward fate hath sorted us this chaunce S3 ; 
 That even in those, where we should comfort find, 
 Where our delight now in our aged dayes 
 Should rest and be even there our only griefe 
 And depest sorrowes to abridge our life, 
 Most pyning cares and deadly thoughts do grow? 
 
 Arostus. Your grace should now in these grave yeres 
 
 of yours 
 
 Have found ere this the price of mortall joyes ; 
 How short they be, how fading here in earth, 
 How full of change, how brittle our estate, 
 Of nothing sure, save onely of the death, 
 To whom both man and all the world doth owe 
 Their end at last : neither should nature's power 
 In other sorte against your hart prevaile, 
 Then as the naked hand whose stroke assayes 
 The armed brest where force doth li^ht in vaine. 
 
 Gorboduc. Many can yelde right sage and grave 
 
 advice 
 
 Of patient sprite to others wrapped in woe, 
 And can in speche both rule and conquere kinde, 
 Who, if by proofe they might feele nature's force, 
 Would shew themselves men as they are indede, 
 Which now wil needes be gods. But what doth meane 
 The sory chere of her that here doth come ? 
 
 Marcella. Oh where is ruth, or where is pitie now ? 
 Whether is gentle hart and mercy fled ? 
 Are they exiled out of our stony brestes, 
 Never to make returne ? is all the world 
 Drowned in bloud, and soncke in crueltie? 
 If not in women mercy may be found, 
 If not (alas) within the mother's brest 
 To her owne childe, to her owne flesh and bloud ; 
 If ruthe be banished thence, if pitie there 
 May have no place, if there no gentle hart 
 Do live and dwell, where should we seeke it then ? 
 
 Gorboduc. Madame (alas), what meanes your wofull 
 tale? 
 
 33 sorted us this chaunce ;] i. e. chosen out for us. S.
 
 SC. II.] FERREX AND PORREX. 155 
 
 Marcella. O silly woman I ! why to this houre 
 Have kinde and fortune thus deferred my breath, 
 That I should live to see this dolefull day? 
 Will ever wight beleve that such hard hart 
 Could rest within the cruell mother's brest, 
 With her owne hand to slaye her onely sonne ? 
 But out (alas) these eyes behelde the same, 
 They saw the dnery sight, and are become 
 Most ruthefull recordes of the bloody fact. 
 Porrex (alas) is by his mother slaine, 
 And with her hand a wofull thing to tell; 
 While slumbring on his carefull bed he restes, 
 His hart stabde in with knife is reft of life. 
 
 Gorboduc. O Eubulus, oh draw this sword of ours, 
 And pearce this hart with speed ! O hatefull light, 
 O loathsome life, O sweete and welcome death, 
 Deare Eubulus, worke this we thee besech ! 
 
 Eubulus. Pacient your grace 34 , perhappes he liveth 
 
 yet, 
 
 With wound receaved but not of certaine death. 
 
 Gorboduc. O let us then repayre unto the place, 
 And see if Porrex live, or thus be slaine. 
 
 Marcella. Alas, he liveth not, it is to true, 
 That with these eyes, of him a perelesse prince, 
 Sonne to a king, and in the flower of youth, 
 Even with a twinkle 35 a senselesse stocke I saw. 
 
 Arostus. O damned deede ! 
 
 Marcella. But heare hys ruthefull end. 
 The noble prince, pearst with the sodeine wound, 
 Out of his wretched slumber hastely start, 
 Whose strength now fayling straight he overthrew, 
 When in the fall his eyes even now unclosed 
 Behelde the queene, and cryed to her for helpe ; 
 We then, alas, the ladies which that time 
 
 34 Pacient your grace.} Compose yourself. This verb is used in 
 Titus Audronicus, A. 1. S. 2. 
 
 Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me. 
 See other instances in Mr. Steevens's Note on this passage. 
 
 35 Even with a twinkle.] i. e. the twinkling of an eye. See The 
 Taming of the Shrew. S.
 
 156 FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT IV. 
 
 Did there attend, seeing that heynous deede, 
 And hearing him oft call the wretched name 
 Of mother, and to crye to her for aide, 
 Whose direfull hand gave him the mortall wound, 
 Pitying, alas, (for nought els could we do) 
 His ruthefull end, ranne to the wofull bedde, 
 Dispoyled straight his brest, and all we might 
 Wiped in vaine with napkins next at hand, 
 The sodeine streames of bloud that flushed fast 
 Out of the gaping wound : O what a looke, 
 O what a ruthefull stedfast eye me thought 
 He fixt upon my face, which to my death 
 Will never part from me, when with a braide 36 
 A deepe fet sigh 37 he gave, and therewithall 
 Clasping his handes, to heaven he cast his sight, 
 And straight pale death pressing within his face 
 The flying ghost his mortall corpes forsooke. 
 
 Aro&tus. Never did age bring forth so vile a fact. 
 
 Marcella. O hard and cruell happe, that thus 
 
 assigned 
 
 Unto so worthy a wight so wretched end ; 
 But most hard cruell hart that could consent 
 To lend the hatefull destinies that hand, 
 By which, alas, so heynous crime was wrought. 
 O queen of adamant, O marble brest, 
 If not the favour of his comely face, 
 If not his princely chere and countenance, 
 His valiant active armes, his manly brest, 
 If not his faire and seemely personage, 
 His noble limmes in such proportion cast 
 
 36 when with a braide.'] A braide was a start or a motion of the head, 
 occasioned by pain, uneasiness, or affright. It is a word used by 
 Chaucer, in The Legend of Dido, ver. 239 : 
 
 " This noble quene unto her rest ywent, 
 " She sighed sore, and gon herself to tourment, 
 " She walketh, waloweth, and made many braied 
 " As doen these lovers, as I have herd saied." 
 Scogin's Jests, p. 10. " The woman, being afraid, gave a braid 
 " with her head, and ran her away." 
 
 37 a deepe fet sigh.] i. e. a Aeep fetched sigh. See Note 73 to Gammer 
 Gurtvn's Needle, vol. II.
 
 SC. II.] FE11REX AND PORREX. 157 
 
 As would have wrapt a sillie woman's thought ; 
 
 If this mought not have moved thy bloodie hart, 
 
 And that most cruell hand the wretched weapon 
 
 Even to let fall, and kiste him in the face, 
 
 With teares for ruthe to reave such one by death ; 
 
 Should nature yet consent to slay her sonne ? 
 
 O mother, thou to murder thus thy childe ! 
 
 Even Jove with justice must with lightning flames 
 
 From heaven send downe some strange revenge on 
 
 thee. 
 
 Ah, noble prince, how oft have I behelde 
 Thee mounted on thy fierce and trampling stede, 
 Shining in armour bright before the tilt, 
 38 And with thy mistresse sieve tied on thy helme, 
 And charge thy staffe, to please thy ladies eye, 
 That bowed the head peece of thy frendly foe ! 
 How oft in armes on horse to bend the mace, 
 How oft in armes on foot to breake the sworde, 
 Which never now these eyes may see againe ! 
 Arostus. Madame, alas, in vaine these plaints are 
 
 shed ; 
 
 Rather with me depart, and helpe to swage 
 The thoughtfull griefes that in the aged king 
 Must needes by nature growe by death of this 
 His onely sonne, whome he did holde so deare. 
 
 Marcella. What wight is that which sawe that I did 
 
 see, 
 
 And could refraine to waile with plaint and teares ? 
 Not I, alas, that hart is not in me : 
 But let us go, for I am greved anewe, 
 To call to minde the wretched father's woe. 
 
 Chorus. When gredy lust in royall seate to reigne 
 Hath reft all care of goddes and eke of men, 
 And cruell hart, wrath, treason, and disdaine, 
 Within ambicious brest are lodged ; then 
 
 38 And with thy mistresse sieve tied on thy helme.] See Extract 
 from Hall's Chronicle, quoted in Note 53 to Alexander and Campaspe, 
 Tol. II.
 
 158 FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT V. 
 
 Beholde how mischiefe wide her selfe displayes, 
 And with the brother's hand the brother slayes. 
 
 When bloud thus shed doth staine the heavens face, 
 Crying to Jove for vengeance of the deede, 
 The mightie God even moveth from his place 
 With wrath to wreke, then sendes he forth with spede 
 The dreadfull furies, daughters of the night, 
 With serpentes girt, carying the whip of ire, 
 With heare of stinging snakes, and shining bright 
 With flames and bloud, and with a brand of fire: 
 These for revenge of wretched murder done, 
 Do make the mother kill her onely sonne. 
 
 Blood asketh blood, and death must death requite : 
 Jove by his just and everlasting dome 
 Justly hath ever so requited it. 
 This times before recorde, and times to come 
 Shall finde it true, and so doth present proofs 
 Present before our eyes for our behoofe. 
 
 O happy wight that suffres not the snare 
 Of murderous minde to tangle him in blood! 
 And happy he that can in .time beware 
 By others harmes, and turne it to his good : 
 But wo to him that, fearing not to offend, 
 Doth serve his lust, and will not see the end. 
 
 The Order and Signification of the Domme Shew 
 before the fifth Act. 
 
 First the drommes and fluites began to sound, during 
 which there came forth upon the stage a company of 
 hargabusiers and of armed men all in order of battaile. 
 These, after their pieces discharged, and that the 
 armed men had three times marched about the stage, 
 departed, and then the drommes and fiuits did cease. 
 Hereby was signified tumults, rebellions, armes, and 
 civil tvarres to follow, as fell in the realme of Great 
 Brittayne, which by the space of fiftie yeares and more 
 continued in cimll warre betwene the nobilitie after the
 
 SC. I.] FERREX AND PORREX. 159 
 
 death of king Gorboduc, and of his issues, for want of 
 certayne limitation in succession of the crowne, till the 
 time of Dunwallo Molmutius *, who reduced the land 
 to monarchic. 
 
 ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA. 
 CLOTYN. MANDUD. GWENARD. FERGUS. EUBULUS. 
 
 Clotyn. Did ever age bring forth such tyrant harts ? 
 The brother hath bereft the brother's life ; 
 The mother she hath died her cruell handes 
 In bloud of her owne sonne; and now at last 
 The people, loe, forgetting trouth and love, 
 Contemning quite both law and loyall hart, 
 Even they have slaine their soveraigne lord and 
 queene. 
 
 Mandud. Shall this their traitorous crime unpunished 
 
 rest? 
 
 Even yet they cease not, caryed on with rage 
 In their rebellious routes, to threaten still 
 A new bloud shed unto the prince's kinne 
 To slay them all, and to uproote the race 
 Both of the king #nd queene ; so are they moved 
 With Porrex death, wherin they falsely charge 
 The giltlesse king without desert all, 
 And traitorously have murdered him therfore, 
 And eke the queene. 
 
 Gwenard. Shall subjectes dare with force 
 To worke revenge upon their princes fact? 
 Admit the worst that may ; as sure in this 
 The deede was fowle, the queene to slaye her sonne, 
 Shall yet the subject seeke to take the sworde, 
 Arise agaynst his lord, and slaye his king ? 
 O wretched state where those rebellious hartes 
 Are not rent out even from their living breastes, 
 And with the body throwen unto the foules, 
 
 * According to flenslowe's' MS. William Rankin, who after- 
 wards attacked plays and players so furiously, in his Mirror nf 
 Monsters, wrote a historical play called Mubnuthm Dcmraltow. C.
 
 160 FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT I. 
 
 As carrion foode, for terrour of the rest ! 
 
 Fergus. There can no punishment be thought to 
 
 great 
 
 For this so grevous cryme ; let spede therefore 
 Be used therein, for it behoveth so. 
 
 Eubulus. Ye all my lordes, I see, consent in one, 
 And I as one consent with ye in all : 
 I holde it more then neede, with sharpest law 
 To punish their tumultuous bloudy rage; 
 For nothing more may shake the common state, 
 Than sufferance of uproares without redresse, 
 Wherby how some kingdomes of mightie power, 
 After great conquestes made, and florishing 
 In fame and wealth, have ben to ruine brought : 
 I pray to Jove that we may rather wayle 
 Such happe in them, then witnesse in ourselves. 
 Eke fully with the duke my minde agrees 
 as That no cause serves, wherby the subject may 
 " Call to account the dooinges of his prince; 
 " Much lesse in blood by&woorde to woorke revenge; 
 " No more then may the hand cut of the head. 
 " In acte nor speech, no not in secret thought 
 " The subject may rebell against his lord, 
 " Or judge of him that sits in Ca?sar's seate, 
 " With grudging minde to damne those he mislikes." 
 Though kinges forget to governe as they ought, 
 Yet subjectes must obey as they are bounde. 
 But now, my lordes, before ye farder wade 
 Or spend your speach, what sharpe revenge shall fall 
 By justice plague on these rebellious wightes ? 
 Me thinkes ye rather should first search the way 
 By which in time the tage of this uproare 
 Monght be repressed, and these great tumults ceased. 
 Even yet the life of Brittayne land cloth hang, 
 In traitours balaunce of unegall weight, 
 Thip.ke not, my lordes, the death of (iorboduc, 
 Nor vet ViHenae's blond will cease their rage: 
 
 39 That no cause serves, \c.~\ This and the lines following marked 
 with commas are only to be found in the spurious edition of this play. 
 And iii the reprint of that spurious edition in 1590. C.
 
 SC. I.] FERREX AND PORREX. 161 
 
 Even our owne lyves, our wives, and children deare, 
 
 Our countrey, dearest of all, in daunger standes, 
 
 Now to be spoiled, now, now made desolate, 
 
 And by ourselves a conquest to ensue : 
 
 For geve once swey unto the people's lustes, 
 
 To rush forth on, and stay them not in time, 
 
 And as the streame that rowleth downe the hyll, 
 
 So will they headlong ronne with raging thoughtes 
 
 From bloud to bloud, from mischiefe unto moe, 
 
 To ruine of the realme, themselves and all ; 
 
 So giddy are the common people's mindes, 
 
 So glad of chaunge, more wavering than the sea. 
 
 Ye see (my lordes) what strength these rebelles have, 
 
 What hugie nombre is assembled still, 
 
 For though the traiterous fact for which they rose 
 
 Be wrought and done, yet lodge they still in field ; 
 
 So that how farre their furies' yet will stretch 
 
 Great cause we have to dreade : that we may seeke 
 
 By present battaile to represse their power, 
 
 Speede must we use to levie force therfore, 
 
 For either they forthwith will mischiefe work, 
 
 Or their rebellious roares forthwith will * cease : 
 
 These violent thinges may have no lasting long. 
 
 Let us therfore use this for present helpe : 
 
 Perswade by gentle speach, and offre grace 
 
 With gift of pardon save unto the chiefe ; 
 
 And that upon condicion that forthwith 
 
 They yelde the captaines of their enterprise, 
 
 To beare such guerdon * of their traiterous fact 
 
 As may be both due vengeance to themselves, 
 
 And holsome terrour to posteritie. 
 
 This shall, I thinke, scatter* the greatest parte, 
 
 That now are holden with desire of home. 
 
 Weried in field with cold of winter's nightes, 
 
 And some (no doubt) striken with dread of law. 
 
 The edit, of 1590 reads, 
 
 " Or their rebellious roares forthwith must cease," 
 which is perhaps an improvement to the sense of the passage. C. 
 40 gerudoti] reward. See Note 46 to The Spanish Tragedy, vol. III. 
 *" Flatter," edit. 1590. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 162 FERB.EX AND PORREX. [[ACT IV. 
 
 Whan this is once proclamed, it shall make 
 
 The captaines to mistrust the multitude, 
 
 Whose safety biddes them to betray their heads, 
 
 And so much more bycause the rascall routes, 
 
 In thinges of great and perillous attemptes, 
 
 Are never trustie to the noble race. 
 
 And while we treate and stand on termes of grace, 
 
 We shall both stay their furies rage the while, 
 
 And eke gaine time, whose onely helpe sufficeth 
 
 Withouten warre to vanquish rebelles power. 
 
 In the. meane while, make you in redynes 
 
 Such band of horsemen as ye may prepare. 
 
 Horsemen (you know) are not the commons strength, 
 
 But are the force and store of noble men. 
 
 Wherby the unchosen and unarmed sort 41 
 
 Of skillesse rebelles, whome none other power, 
 
 But nombre makes to be of dreadfull force, 
 
 With sodeyne brunt may quickely be opprest. 
 
 And if this gentle meane of proffered grace 
 
 With stubborne heartes cannot so farre avayle 
 
 As to asswage their desperate courages, 
 
 Then do I wish such slaughter to be made, 
 
 As present age and eke posteritie 
 
 May be adrad 42 with horrour of revenge, 
 
 That justly then shall on these rebelles fall ; 
 
 This is, my lords, the summe of mine advise. 
 
 Clotyn. Neither this case admittes debate at large ; 
 And though it did, this speach that hath ben sayd 
 Hath well abridged the tale I would have tolde. 
 Fully with Eubulus do I consent 
 In all that he hath sayde ; and if the same 
 To you my lordes may seeme for best advise, 
 I wish that it should streight be put in ure. 
 
 41 unchosen and unarmed tori] multitude. See Note 4 to Gammer 
 Gurton's Needle, vol. II. 
 
 41 may be adrad.] Adrad is the participle passive of adrede: 
 afraid. S. 
 
 So in Erasmus's Praise of Folie, 1549, Sign. R 4 : " lyke as 
 " great princes have wysemen in jelousie and suspicion, as Julius 
 " Caesar had Brutus and also Cassius, whereas he nothinge helde 
 " hymselfe adradde of drunken Mark A.iithony."
 
 SC I.] FERREX AND PORREX. 163 
 
 Mandud. My lordes, then let us presently depart 
 And follow this that liketh 43 us so well. 
 
 Fergus. If ever time to gaine a kingdome here 
 Were offred man, now it is offred me! 
 The realme is reft both of their king and queene, 
 The offspring of the prince is slaine and dead, 
 No issue now remaines, the heire unknowen, 
 The people are in armes and mutynies, 
 The nobles they are busied how to cease 
 These great rebellious tumultes and uproares : 
 And Brittayne land now desert left alone 
 Amyd these broyles uncertayn where to rest, 
 Offers herselfe unto that noble hart 
 That will or dare pursue to beare her crowne. 
 Shall I that am the duke of Albanye 
 Discended from that line of noble bloud, 
 Which hath so long florished in worthy fame 
 Of valiaunt hartes, such as in noble brestes 
 Of right should rest above the baser sort, 
 Refuse to adventure life to winne a crowne ? 
 Whom shall I finde enemies that will withstand 
 My fact herein, if I attempt by armes 
 To seeke the same now in these tiroes of broyle ? 
 These dukes power can hardly well appease 
 The people that already are in armes: 
 But if perhappes my force be once in field, 
 Is not my strength in power above the best 
 Of all these lordes now left in Brittayne land. 
 And though they should match me with power of men, 
 Yet doubtfull is the chaunce of battailes joyned. 
 If victors of the field we may depart, 
 Ours is the scepter then of great Brittayne ! 
 If slayne arnid tne playne this body lye, 
 Mine enemies yet shall not deny me this, 
 But that I dyed geving the noble charge 
 To hazarde life for conquest of a crowne. 
 Forthwith therefore will I in post depart 
 To Albanye, and raise in armour there 
 All power I can : and here my secret frendes 
 
 liketh'] pleaseth. See Note 8 to Cornelia, vol. II.
 
 164 FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT V. 
 
 By secret practise shall sollicite still 
 
 To seeke to wynne to me the people's hartes, 
 
 AtfTUS QUINTUS. SCENA SECUNDA. 
 EUBULUS. CLOTYN. MANDUD. GWENARD. AROSTUS. 
 
 NUNTIUS. 
 
 Eubulus. O Jove, how are these people's harts abusde ! 
 "What blind fury thus headlong caries them? 
 That though so many bookes, so many rolles 
 Of auncient time recorde what grevous plagues 
 Light on these rebelles aye, and though so oft 
 Their eares have heard their aged fathers tell 
 What juste reward these traitours still receyve ; 
 Yea though themselves have sene depe death and blouci 
 By strangling cord and slaughter of the sword 
 To such assigned, yet can they not beware; 
 Yet can not stay their lewde rebellious handes, * 
 But suffring, loe, fowle treason to distaine 
 Their wretched myndes, forget their loyall hart, 
 , Reject all truth, and rise against, their prince. 
 A ruthefull case, that those whom duties bond, 
 Whom grafted law, by nature, truth, and faith 
 Bound to preserve their country and their king, 
 Borne to defend their common wealth and prince, 
 Even they should geve consent thus to subvert 
 Thee Brittaine land, and from thy wombe should bring 
 (O native soile) those, that will needs destroy 
 And ruyne thee and eke themselves in fine. 
 For lo, when once the duke had offred grace 
 Of pardon sweete (the multitude misledde 
 By traiterous fraude of their ungracious heades) 
 One sort that saw the dangerous succ'esse 
 Of stubborne standing in rebellious warre, 
 And knew the difference of princes power, 
 From headlesse nombre of tumultuous routes, 
 Whom common countreies care and private feare 
 Taught to repent the errour of their rage, 
 Layde hands upon the captaines of their band, 
 * " Yet can *hey not atay their rebellious hands." edit. 1590.
 
 SC. II.] FERREX AND PORREX. 165 
 
 And brought them bound unto the mightie dukes. 
 
 And other sort, not trusting yet so well 
 
 The truth of pardon, or mistrusting more 
 
 Their owne offence than that they could conceive 
 
 Sure hope of pardon for so foule misdede, 
 
 Or for that they their captaines could not yeld, 
 
 Who fearing to be yelded fled before, 
 
 Stale home by silence of the secret night. 
 
 The third unhappy and enraged sort 
 
 Of desperate hartes, who stained in princes bloud, 
 
 From trayterous furour could not be withdrawen 
 
 By love, by law, by grace, ne yet by feare, 
 
 By proffered life, ne yet by threatned death, 
 
 With mindes hopelesse of life, dreadlesse of death, 
 
 Carelesse of countrey, and awelesse of God. 
 
 Stoode bent to fight, as furies did them move 
 
 With violent death to close their traiterous life. 
 
 These all by power of horsemen were opprest, 
 
 And with revenging sworde slayne in the field, 
 
 Or with the strangling cord hangd on the tree, 
 
 Where yet the caryen carcases do preach * 
 
 The fruites that rebel les reape of their uproares, 
 
 And of the murder of their sacred prince. 
 
 But loe, where do approche the noble dukes, 
 
 By whom these tumults have ben thus appeasde. 
 
 Clotyn. I thinke the world wifl now at length beware, 
 And feare to put on armes agaynst their prince. 
 
 Mandud. If not, those trayterous hartes that dare 
 
 rebell, 
 
 Let them beholde the wide and hugie fieldes 
 With bloud and bodies spread of rebelles slayne ; 
 The lofty f trees clothed with corpses dead 
 That strangled with the cord do hang thereon. 
 
 Arostus. A just rewarde, such as all times before 
 Have ever lotted to those wretched folkes. 
 
 * So Marlow, in Edward II. vol. II. p. 318. 
 
 " Brother, revenge it, and let these their heads 
 
 " Preach upon poles for trespass of their tongues." C. 
 
 t "Justy trees," edit. 1590.
 
 166 FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT V. 
 
 Gwenard. But what meanes he that commeth here 
 
 so fast ? 
 Nuntius. My lordes, as dutie and my trouth doth 
 
 move, 
 
 And of my countrey worke a care in me, 
 That if the spending of my breath availed 
 To do the service that my hart desires, 
 I would not shunne to imbrace a present death; 
 So have I now in that wherein I thought 
 My travayle mought performe some good effect 
 Ventred my life to bring these tydings here. 
 Fergus, the mightie duke of Albanye, 
 Is nowe in armes, and lodgeth in the fielde : 
 With twentie thousand men hether he bendes 
 His spedy march, and mindes to invade the crowne. 
 Dayly he gathereth strength, and spreads abrode, 
 That to this realme no certaine heire remaines, 
 That Brittayne land is left without a guide, 
 That he the scepter seekes, for nothing els 
 But to preserve the people and the land 
 Which now remaine as shippe without a sterne 44 : 
 Loe this is that which I have here to say. 
 
 Clotyn. Is this his fayth ? and shall he falsely thus 
 Abuse the vauntage of unhappie times? 
 O wretched land, if his outragious pride, 
 His cruell and untempred wilfulnesse, 
 His deepe dissembling shewes of false pretence, 
 Should once attaine the crowne of Brittaine land. 
 Let us, my lordes, with timely force resisf 
 The new attempt of this our common foe. 
 As we would quench the flames of common fire. 
 
 Mandud. Though we remaine without a certain prince 
 To weld the realm, or guide the wandriug rule, 
 Yet now the common mother of us all, 
 Our native land, our countrey that conteines 
 Our wives, children, kindred, ourselves, and all 
 That ever is or may be deare to man, 
 Cries unto us to helpe ourselves and her: 
 
 44 without a sterna] A sterne was the antient term for the rudder. 
 See King Henry V. S.
 
 SC. II.] FERREX AND PORREX. 167 
 
 Let us advaunce our powers to represse 
 This growing foe of all our liberties. 
 
 Gwenard. Yea let us so, my lordes, with hasty speede. 
 And ye (O goddes) send us the welcome death, 
 To shed our bloud in field, and leave us not 
 In lothesome life to lenger out ourdayes,* 
 To see the hugie heapes of these unhappes, 
 That now roll downe upon the wretched land, 
 Where emptie place of princely governaunce, 
 No certaine stay now left of doubtlesse heire, 
 Thus leave this guidelesse realme an open pray 
 To endlesse stormes and waste of civill warre. 
 
 Arostus. That ye (my lordes) do so agree in one 
 To save your countrey from the violent reigue 
 And wrongfully usurped tyrannic 
 Of him that threatens conquest of you all, 
 To save your realme, and in this realme yourselves 
 From forreine thraldome of so proud a prince, 
 Much do I prayse ; and I besech the goddes 
 With happy honour to requite it you. 
 But (O my lords) sith now the heavens wrath 
 Hath reft this lande the issue of their prince ; 
 Sith of the body of our late soveraigne lorde 
 Remaines no moe ; since the yong kinges be slaine, 
 And of the title of discended crowne, 
 Uncertainly the diverse mindes do thinke 
 Even of the learned sort, and more uncertainly 
 Will parciall fancie and affection deeme; 
 But most uncertainly will climbing pride 
 And hope of reigne withdraw to sundrie partes 
 The doubtfull right and hopefull lust to reigne; 
 When once this noble service is atchieved, 
 For Brittaine land the mother of ye all, 
 When once ye have with armed force represt, 
 The proude attemptes of this Albanian prince, 
 That threatens thraldome, to your native land, 
 When ye shall vanquishers returne from field 
 And find the princely state an open pray, 
 To greedie lust and to usurping power; 
 
 * " To lenger out our lives." Edit. 1590.
 
 168 FERREX AND PORREX. [ACT V. 
 
 Then, then (my lordes) if ever kindly care 
 Of auncient honour of your auncesters, 
 Of present wealth and noblesse of your stockes, 
 Yea of the lives and safetie yet to come 
 Of your deare wives, your children, and yourselves, 
 Might move your noble hartes with gentle ruth, 
 Then, then have pitie on the tome estate, 
 Then helpe to salve the wel neare hopelesse sore ! 
 Which ye shall do, if ye yourselves withholds 
 The slaying knife from your owne mother's throate, 
 Her shall you save, and you and yours in her, 
 If ye shall all with one assent forbeare 
 Once to lay hand, or take unto yourselves, 
 The crown e by colour of pretended right ; 
 Or by what other meanes so ever it be, 
 Till first by common counsell of you all 
 In parliament, the regall diademe 
 Be set in certaine place of governaunce, 
 In which your parliament and in your choise 
 Preferre the right (my lordes) without "respect 
 Of strength or frendes, or whatsoever cause 
 That may set forward any others part : 
 For right will last, and wrong can not endure. 
 Right meane I his or hers, upon whose name 
 The people rest by meane of native line, 
 Or by the vertue of some former lawe, 
 Already made their title to advaunce : 
 Such one (my lordes) let be your chosen king, 
 Such one so borne within your native land, 
 Such one preferre, and in no wise admitte, 
 The heavie yoke of forreine governance. 
 Let forreine titles yelde to publike wealth, 
 And with that hart wherewith ye now prepare 
 Thus to withstand the proude invading foe, 
 With that same hart (my lordes) keepe out also 
 Unnaturall thraldome of strangers reigne, 
 Ne suffer you against the rules of kinde, 
 Your mother land to serve a forreine prince. 
 Eubvlus. Loe here the end of Brutus royall line, 
 45 Monte] with, edit. 1590.
 
 SC. II.] FERREX AND PORREX.' 169 
 
 And loe the entry to the wofull wracke 
 
 And utter ruine of this noble realme. 
 
 The royall king, and eke his sonnes are slaine ; 
 
 No ruler restes within the regall seate : 
 
 Che heire to whom the scepter longes, unknowen ; 
 
 That to eche force of forreine princes power, 
 
 Whom vauntage of your wretched state may move,* 
 
 By sodeine armes to gaine so riche a realme, 
 
 And to the proud and gredie minde at home 
 
 Whom blinded lust to reigne leades to aspire, 
 
 Loe Brittaine realme is left an open pray, 
 
 A present spoyle by conquest to ensue. 
 
 Who seeth not now how many rising mindes 
 
 Do feede their thoughts, with hope to reach a realme ? 
 
 And who will not by force attempt to winne 
 
 So great a gaine that hope perswades to have? 
 
 A simple colour shall for title serve: 
 
 Who winnes the royall crowne will want no right, 
 
 Nor such as shall display by long discent 
 
 A lineall race to prove him lawfull king.f 
 
 In the meane while these civil armes shall rage, 
 
 And thus a thousand mischiefes shall unfolde 
 
 And farre and neare spread thee (O Brittaine land). 
 
 All right and lawe shall cease, and he that had 
 
 Nothing to-day, to-morrowe shall erijoye 
 
 Great heapes of golde, and he that flowed in wealth, 
 
 Loe he shall be bereft of life and all; 
 
 And happiest he that then possesseth least. 
 
 The wives shall suffer rape, the maides defloured, 
 
 And children fatherlesse shall weepe and waile : 
 
 With fire and sworde thy native folke shall perishe, 
 
 One kinsman shall bereave an others life, 
 
 The father shall unwitting slay thesonne, 
 
 The sonne shall slay the sire and know it not. 
 
 Women and maides the cruel souldiers sword 
 
 Shall perse to death, and sillie children loe 
 
 That playing 46 in the streetes and fieldes are found, 
 
 " May move," omitted in Edit, of 1590. 
 t " To prove himself a king." Edit. 1590. 
 40 playing] play, edit. 1590.
 
 170 FERREX AND TORRES. [ACT V 
 
 By violent hand shall close their latter day. 
 Whom shall the fierce and bloudy souldier 
 Reserve to life ? whom shall he spare from death ? 
 Even thou (O wretched mother) halfe alive, 
 Thou shalt beholde thy deare and onely childe 
 Slaine with the sworde while he yet suckes thy brest. 
 Loe, giltlesse bloud shall thus eche where be shed : 
 Thus shall the wasted soyle yelde forth no fruite 
 But dearth and famine shall possesse the land. 
 The townes shall be consumed, and burnt with fire ; 
 The peopled cities shall waxe desolate, 
 And thou O Brittaine, whilome in renowne, 
 Whilome in wealth and fame, shalt thus be torne : 
 Dismembred thus, and thus be rent in twaine, 
 Thus wasted and defaced, spoyled and destroyed. 
 These be the fruites your civill warres will bring. 
 Hereto it commes when kinges will not consent 
 To grave advise, but follow wilfull will : 
 This is the end, when in fonde prince's hartes 
 Flattery prevailes, and sage rede hath no place : 
 These are the plages when murder is the meane 
 To make new heires unto the royall crowne : 
 Thus wreke the Gods when that the mother's wrath 
 Nought but the bloud of her own childe may swage : 
 These mischiefes spring, when rebells will arise, 
 To worke revenge and judge their prince's fact : 
 This, this ensues when noble men do faile 
 In loyall trouth, and subjectes will be kinges : 
 And this doth growe, when loe unto the prince, 
 Whome death or sodeine happe of life bereaves, 
 No certaine heire remaines ; such certein heire, 
 As not all onely is the rightfull heire, 
 But to the realme is so made knowen * to be, 
 And trouth therby vested in subjectes hartes, 
 To owe fayth there, where right is knowen to rest, 
 Alas, in parliament what hope can be, 
 When is of parliament no hope at all, 
 Which though it be assembled by consent, 
 Yet is not likely with consent to end : 
 
 Unknowne." Edit. 1590.
 
 SC. II.] TERREX AND PORREX. 171 
 
 While eche one for himselfe, or for his frend, 
 
 Against his foe, shall travaile what he may : 
 
 While now the state left open to the man, 
 
 That shall with greatest force invade the same. 
 
 Shall fill ambicious mindes with gaping hope 
 
 When will they once with yelding hartes agree? 
 
 Or in the while how shall the realme be used ? 
 
 No, no ; then parliament should have bene holden, 
 
 And certaine heires appointed to the crowne 
 
 To staye the title on established right, 
 
 And in the people plant obedience, 
 
 While yet the prince did live, whose name and power 
 
 By lawful! sommons and authorise, 
 
 Might make a parliament to be of force, 
 
 And might have set the state * in quiet stay. 
 
 But now, happie man, whom spedie death 
 
 Deprives of life, ne is enforced to see 
 
 These hugie mischiefes and these miseries, 
 
 These civill warres, these murders, and these wronges. 
 
 Of justice yet must God f in fine restore, 
 
 This noble crowne unto the lawfull heire : 
 
 For right will alwayes live, and rise at length, 
 
 But wrong can never take deepe roote to last. 
 
 * " Realm," edit. 1590. t " Jove," edit. 1590.
 
 172 
 
 EDITIONS. 
 
 (1.) "The Tragedie of Gorboduc ; whereof three 
 " Actes were written by Thomas Nortone, and the two 
 " laste by Thomas Sackvyle. Settforthe as the same 
 " was shewed before the Queenes most excellent 
 " Majestic, in her hignes court of Whitehall, the 18 
 " Jan. 1561. By the Gentlemen of Thynner Temple, 
 " in London, Sept. 22." 4to. Printed for William 
 Griffith. (See Ames's Typographical Antiquities, 
 p. 316.) 
 
 This Edition I have not seen. It appears to be the 
 first spurious one complained of by the Authors. 
 
 (2.) " The Tragedie of Ferrex and Porrex. Set- 
 " forth without addition or alteration ; but altogether 
 " as the same was shewed on stage before the Queenes 
 " Majestie about nine yeares past, viz. the xvin day of 
 " Januarie, 1561, by the Gentlemen of the Inner 
 " Temple. Seen and allowed, &c. Imprinted at 
 " London by John Daye, dwelling over Aldersgate." 
 B. L. 8vo. 
 
 In the Bodleian Library, and in the possession of 
 Thomas Pearson, Esq. 
 
 (3.) " The Tragedie of Gorboduc ; whereof three 
 ' Actes were written by Thomas Norton, and the two 
 ' last by Thomas Sackvyle. Set forth as the same 
 ' was shewed before the Queenes most excellent 
 Majesty, in her hignes Court of Whitehall, by the 
 Gentlemen of the Inner Temple. At London, 
 printed by Edward Allde for John Perrin, and are to 
 be sold in Paule's Churchyard, at the signe of the 
 Angell, 1590." B. L. 4to. 
 In the Collection of Thomas Pearson Esq. and also
 
 173 
 
 in that of Mr. Garrick. In the last-mentioned copy 
 is a discourse entitled, The Serpent of Devision *. 
 
 * At the end of the address " To the Gentlemen Readers," 
 prefixed to The Serpent of Division, the printer says " Heere 
 " shalt thou see also, if with content thou peruse it, the woful 
 " Tragedie of Gorboduc, and Ferrex and Porrex his two sonnes, as 
 " it was presented before the Queenes Majestie, by the Gentlemen 
 " of the Inner Temple." The Serpent of Division appears to be a 
 translation. C.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS.
 
 RICHARD EDWARDS, a Somersetshire man, was born 
 in the year 1523, admitted a scholar of Corpus Christi 
 College on the llth of May, 1540, and probationer 
 fellow on the llth of August, 1544. At the founda- 
 tion of Christ Church, by King Henry the Eighth, in 
 the year 1547, he was chosen a student of the upper- 
 table, and in the same year took the degree of Master 
 of Arts. From the University, he removed to Lincoln's- 
 Inn ; and in the beginning of Queen Elizabeth's reign 
 was appointed one of the gentlemen of her chapel, and 
 master of the children there *. He died, according to 
 Sir John Hawkins 1 , on the 31st of October, 1566. 
 
 He was the author of 
 
 (1.) Damon and Pithias : a Comedy. Acted before 
 the Queen by the children of her chapel, and published 
 in 4to. 1571. 4to. 1582 f. 
 
 (2.) Palaemon and Arcyte: A Comedy. In two 
 parts. Acted in Christ-Church-Hall, 1566. This 
 piece was represented on the 2d and 3d of September. 
 The first evening, it was scarcely begun to be per- 
 formed before it became a Tragedy, for by the weight 
 of the multitudes the scaffold fell down. Five men 
 were greatly hurt and wounded, and three killed by 
 
 * It has been conjectured that he came early to Court, for there 
 exist in MS. some Poems with his name, addressed to the beauties 
 of the Court of Queen Mary. See the new edition of Nugte An- 
 tiqiue, by Mr. Park, vol. 3. p. 392. The third Poem in the Paradise 
 of' Dayntie Devises, is by Edwards upon this subject, and the first 
 stanza shews that he was a young man when he sought to " become 
 " one of the courtly trayne:" it begins, 
 
 " In youthfull yeeres when fyrst my young desyres began 
 " To pricke me foorth to serve in Court, a sclender tall young 
 man,'' &c. C. 
 
 1 History of Music, vol. 2. p. 541. 
 
 t By the words " newly imprinted" on the title-page of the 
 edition of 1571, it is perhaps to be understood, that it had been 
 published before ; or it may only mean that the Play was then 
 " newly imprinted" from the MSi Some biographers have noticed 
 a supposed edition of Damon and Pithias, in 1570, but this is amis- 
 take for the year following. C.
 
 178 
 
 the fall of a wall 2 . On the second evening, the Queen 
 is said to have been much entertained. After the play 
 was ended, she called the author to her, commended 
 his work, promised what she would do for him, and 
 talked to him in the most familiar way. One of the 
 performers, supposed to be young Carew, pleased her 
 so much, that she made him a present of eight guineas. 
 See Wood's Athence Oxoniensis, vol. 1. p. 151.; and 
 Peshall's History of the University of Oxford, 227, 228. 
 Chetwood says, both parts of this play were printed, 
 with the Author's Songs and Poems, in 1585. Wood 
 assures us, that there were several other dramatic 
 pieces by him, which he did not live to finish ; and that 
 it was the opinion of many, he would have run mad 
 had he continued to exercise his talents as a writer for 
 the stage. 
 
 He was also the Author of 
 
 Some Poems printed in The Paradise of Dainty 
 Devises, 4to. 1575, and a Poem called Edward's Soul- 
 knil ; or The Soule's knell: written in his last illness. 
 
 He appears to have obtained a considerable reputa- 
 tion as a dramatic writer, which will appear from the 
 following testimony in Puttenham's Art of Poetry : " I 
 " think that for Tragedy the Lord Buckhurst and 
 " Maister Edward Ferrys, for such doings as I have 
 " seen of theirs, do deserve the highest price; the Earl 
 " of Oxford, and Mr. Edwards of her Majesty's 
 " Chapel, for Comedy and Interlude." An Epitaph on 
 him is said to be printed among the Poems of George 
 Turberville*. 
 
 8 Peshall's History of the University of Oxford, 287. 
 
 * This production, which Mr. Reed had not seen, does exist ; 
 and is to be be found in Turberville's Epitaphes, Epigrams," Songes, 
 and Sonets, printed in 1570. It opens as follows : 
 " Epitaph on Maister Edwards, sometime Maister of the Chil- 
 
 " dren of the Chapell, and Gentleman of Lyncolues Inne 
 
 " Court. 
 
 "Ye learned Muses nine, and Sacred Sisters all, 
 " Now lay your cheerfull cithrons downe, and to lamenting fall.
 
 179 
 
 " Rent off those garlandes greene, doe laurel leaves away, 
 
 " Remove the myrtill from your browes, and stint on strings to 
 
 play; 
 
 " For he that led the daunce, the cheefest of your traine, 
 " I mean the man that Edwards hight, by cruell death is slaine. 
 " Ye courtiers chaunge your cheere, lament in wailefull wise, 
 " For now your Orpheus has resignd, in clay his carcas lies. 
 " O ruth! he is bereft, that whilst he lived here, 
 " For poet's pen and passinge witte, could have no Englishe 
 
 peere. 
 
 ** His veine in verse was such, so stately eke his style, 
 " His fate in forging sugred songes, with cleane and curious file ; 
 "As all the learned Greekes and Romanies would repine, 
 " If they did live againe, to viewehis verse with scornefull eine." 
 
 The rest of this production is in the same strain, and the above 
 will be a sufficient specimen. C.
 
 THE PROLOGUE. 
 
 On everie syde, wheras I glaunce my rovyng eye, 
 
 Silence in all eares bent f playnly doe espie : 
 
 But if your egre lookes doo longe such toyes to see, 
 
 As heretofore, in commycall wise, were wont abroade to 
 
 bee, 
 
 Your lust is lost, and all the pleasures that you sought, 
 Is frustrate quite of toying playes. A soden change is 
 
 wrought : 
 
 For loe, our aucthor's muse, that masked in delight, 
 Hath for st his penne against his kinde*, no more such 
 
 sportes to write. 
 Muse he that lust, (right worshipfull) for chaunce hath 
 
 made this change, 
 For that to some he seemed too much in yonge desires to 
 
 range : 
 
 In whiche, right glad to please, seyng that he did offende, 
 Of all he humblie pardon craves : his pen that shall 
 
 amende. 
 
 And yet (worshipfull audience} thus much I dare advouche, 
 In commedies the greatest sky II is this, rightly to louche 
 All thynges to the quicke ; and eke to frame eche person so, 
 That by his common talke, you may his nature rightly 
 
 know : 
 A royster ought not preache, that were to straunge to 
 
 heare, 
 But as from vertue he doth swerve, so ought his wordes 
 
 appeare : 
 The olde man is sober, the yonge man rashe, the lover 
 
 triumphyng in joyes. 
 The matron grave, the harlot wilde, and full of wanton 
 
 toyes. 
 
 8 kindel See note 7 to Farrex and Porrex in tliis vol.
 
 181 
 
 Whiche all in one course, they no wise doo agree; 
 So correspondent to their kinde their speeches ought to be. 
 Which speeches well pronounste, with action lively framed, 
 If this offende the lookers on, let Horace then be blamed, 
 Which hath our author taught at schole, from whom he 
 
 doth not swarve, 
 
 In all suche kinde of exercise decorum to observe. 
 Thus much for his defence (he sayth) as poetes earst have 
 
 donne, 
 Which heretofore in commodies the self same rase did 
 
 ronne. 
 
 But now for to be briefs, the matter to expresse. 
 Which here wee shallpresent, is this : Damon and Pithias. 
 A rare ensample offrendship true, it is no legend lie, 
 But a thynge once donne indeede, as hystories doe discrie. 
 Whiche doone of yore in longe time past, yet present 
 
 shall be here, 
 
 Even as it tuere in dooynge now, so lively it shall appeare. 
 Lo here in Siracusce th' auncient towne, which once the 
 
 Romaines wonne, 
 Here Dionisius pallace, within whose courte this thing 
 
 most strange was donne. 
 Which matter mixt with myrth and care, a just name to 
 
 applie, 
 As seemes most Jit, wee have it termed, a tragicall com- 
 
 medie. 
 
 Wherein talkyng of courtly toyes, we doe protest this flat, 
 Wee talke of Dionisius courte, wee meane no court but 
 
 that : 
 
 And that we doo so meane, who wysely calleth to minde 
 The time, the place, the author*, here most plainely shall 
 
 it finde. 
 Loe this I speake 4 for our defence, lest of others we should 
 
 be shent* : 
 
 But worthy audience, wee you pray, take thinges as they 
 be ment ; 
 
 3 author] authours, 1st. edit. 
 
 4 speake] spake, 2d. edit. 
 
 5 be slient : To shend, says Mr. Steevens, is to reprove harshly, to 
 treat with injurious language. Note to Hamlet, A. 3. S. 2. 
 
 Again, in Ascham's Report and Discourse. Rennet's Edition,
 
 182 
 
 Whose upright judgement we doo crave, with heedfull 
 
 eare and eye 
 To here the cause, and see tti effect of this newe tragicall 
 
 commedie. [Exit. 
 
 p. 38 : "A wonderfull follie in a great man himselfe, and some 
 " piece of miserie in a whole commonwealth, where fooles chiefly 
 " and flatterers may speake freely what they will, and wise men 
 " and good men shal commonly be shent, if they speake what they 
 " should."
 
 THE SPEAKERS NAMES. 
 
 ARISTIPPUS, a pleasant gentilman. 
 CARISOPHUS, a parasite. 
 
 p > two gentlemen of Greece. 
 
 STEPHANO, servant to Damon and Pilhias. 
 WILL, Aristippus lackey. 
 JACKE, Carisophus lackey. 
 SNAP, the porter. 
 DIONISIUS, the kynge. 
 EUBULUS, the kynge' s counselour. 
 GRONNO, the hangman. 
 GRIM ME, the colyer.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS * 
 
 Here entreth ARISTITPUS. 
 
 dristippus. THO' strange (perhaps) it seemes to some, 
 That I, Aristippus, a courtier am become : 
 A philosopher of late, not of the meanist name, 
 But now, to the courtly behaviour, my lyfe I frame; 
 Muse he that lyst, to you of good skill, 
 I say that I am a phylosopher styll. 
 Lovers of wisdom, are termed philosophers s , 
 Then who is a philosopher so rightly as I ? 
 For in lovyng of wisdom, proofe doth this trie, 
 Th&tfrustra sapit, qui non sapit sibi. 
 I am wyse for myselfe, then tell me of troth, 
 Is not that great wisdom, as the world goth ? 
 
 * Although it is obvious that great pains were taken by Mr. 
 Reed and others, (to say nothing of Dodsley,) in the collation of 
 this dramatic piece, yet they left it in a very imperfect state. In 
 the course of it not less than fifty important variations and errors 
 have been detected, consisting of words omitted, and words acci- 
 dentally inserted independently of errors of the press for which of 
 course an Editor was not responsible. It is hoped that it will be 
 now found more uniformly correct, although the Editor can scarcely 
 natter himself that the reprint may not be still found defective. C. 
 
 * philosopher!,] Philosophic, both Editions. The alteration by 
 Mr. Dodsley. 
 
 And both the editions are perhaps right, as far as this word is 
 concerned : the error lies elsewhere ; for it will be remarked that 
 the rhime requires philosophy and not philosophers, which Mr. Dodsley 
 substituted. The following is suggested as the correct and original 
 reading. 
 
 " Lovyng of wisdom is termed philosophic, 
 " Then who is a philosopher so rightly as 1 1" 
 
 In the next line the author expressly speaks of lovyng of wisdom, 
 as if intending to employ the words he had used before. At the 
 same time the Editor was not so well assured of the accuracy of his 
 emendation as to warrant the insertion of it in the text in opposition 
 to previous authorities. C.
 
 186 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Some philosophers in the streete go ragged and torne, 
 
 And feede on vyle rootes, whom boyes laugh toscorne : 
 
 But I in fine silkes haunt Dionisius pallace, 
 
 Wherin with dayntie fare myselte I do solace. 
 
 I can talke of philosophic as well as the best, 
 
 But the stray te kynde of lyfe I leave to the rest. 
 
 And I professe now the courtly philosophic, 
 
 To crouche, to speake fayre, myselfe 1 applie, 
 
 To feede the kinges humour with pleasant devises, 
 
 For which, I am called Regius canis. 
 
 But wot ye who named me first the kinges dogge ? 
 
 It was the roage Diogenes, that vile grunting hogge. 
 
 Let him rolle in his tubbe, to winne a vaine praise, 
 
 In the courte pleasantly I wyll spende all my dayes; 
 
 Wherin, what to doo, I am not to learne, 
 
 What wyll serve myne owne turne, I can quickly dis- 
 
 cearne. 
 
 All my tyme at schoole I have not spent vaynly, 
 I can helpe one, is not that a good poinctof philosophy? 
 
 Here entreth CARISOPHUS. 
 Carisophus. I beshrew your fine eares, since you 
 
 came from schoole, 
 
 In the court you have made many a wiseman a foole : 
 And though you paint out your fayned phylosophie, 
 So God helpe me, it is but a playne kinde of flattery, 
 Which you use so finely in so pleasant a sorte, 
 That none but Aristippus now makes the kinge sporte. 
 Ere you came hyther, poore I was sombody, 
 The king delighted in mee, now I am but a noddy. 
 Aristippus. In faith, Carisophus, you know yourselfe 
 
 best, 
 
 But I will not call you noddie, but only in jest, 
 And thus I assure you, though I came from schoole 
 To serve in this court, I came not yet to be the kinges 
 
 foole ; 
 
 Or to fill his eares with servile squirilitie : 
 That office is yours, you know it right perfectlie. 
 Of parasites and sicophants you are a grave 7 bencher, 
 The king feedes you often from his owne trencher. 
 7 grove] great, 2d edit.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 187 
 
 I envye not your state, nor yet your great favour, 
 Then grudge not at all, if in my behaviour 
 I make the kinge mery with pleasant urbanitie, 
 Whom I never abused to any man's injurie. 
 
 Carisophus. Be cocke sir, yet in the courte you doo* 
 
 best thrive, 
 For you get more in one day then I doo in five. 
 
 Aristipjms. Why man, in the court, doo you not see 
 Rewardes geven for vertue to every degree? 
 To rewarde the unworthy that worlde is done, 
 The court is changed, a good thread hath bin sponne 
 Of dogges woll heretofore, and why ? because it was 
 
 liked, 
 
 And not for that it was best trimmed and picked : 
 But now men's eares are finer, such grosse toyes are 
 
 not set by, 
 
 Therfore to a trimmer kynde of myrth myselfe I applye: 
 Wherein though I please, it commeth not of my desert, 
 But of the kinge's favour. 
 
 Carisophus. It may so be; yet in your prosperitie, 
 Dispise not an olde courtier : Carisophus is he, 
 Which hath long time fed Dionisius' humor : 
 Diligently to please, styll at hand; there was never 
 
 rumour 
 
 Spread in this 9 towne of any smale thinge, but I 
 Brought it to the kinge in post by and by. 
 Yet now 1 crave your friendship, which if I may attayne, 
 Most sure and unfained frindship I promyse you againe : 
 So we two linckt in frindshippe, brother and brother, 
 Full well in the court may helpe one another. 
 
 Aristippus. Bir Lady, Carisophus, though you know 
 
 not philosophic, 
 
 Yet surely you are a better courtier then I : 
 And yet I not so evyll a courtier, that wyll seeme to 
 
 dispise 
 
 Such an olde courtier as you, so expert and so wyse. 
 But where as you crave myne, and offer your friendship 
 
 so willingly, 
 With hart I geve you thankes for this your great 
 
 curtesie : 
 1 don] omitted in 2d edit. 9 this] the, 2d edit.
 
 188 DAMON AND PiTHIAS. 
 
 Assuring of friendship both with tooth and nayle, 
 Whiles life lasteth, never to fayle. 
 
 Carisophus. A thousand thankes I geve you, oh friend 
 
 Aristippus. 
 
 Aristippus. O friend Carisophus. 
 Carisophus. How joyfull am I, sith I have to friend 
 
 Aristippus now ! 
 Aristippus. None so glad of Carisophus friendship as 
 
 I, I make God a vowe, 
 I speake as 1 thinke, beleve me. 
 
 Carisophus. Sith we are now so friendly joyned, it 
 
 seemeth to mee, 
 
 That one of us help eche other in every degree: 
 Prefer you my cause when you are in presence, 
 To further your matters to the kinge, let me alone in 
 
 your absence. 
 Aristippus. Friend Carisophus, this shall be done as 
 
 you would wish: 
 
 But I pray you tell mee thus much by the way, 
 Whither now from this place wyll you take your 
 
 journay ? 
 Carisophus. I wyll not dissemble, that were against 
 
 friendship, 
 
 I goe into the citie some knaves to nip. 
 For talke with their goodes, to encrease the kynges 
 
 treasure, 
 
 In such kinde of service I set my cheefe pleasure : 
 Farewel, friend 10 Aristippus, now for a time. [Exit. 
 Aristippus. Adewe, friend Carisophus In good faith 
 
 now, 
 
 Of force I must laugh at this solempne vow. 
 Is Aristippus linkt in friendship with Carisophus ? 
 Quid cum tanto asino, talis philosophus ? 
 They say, Morum similitudo consultat amicitias* ; 
 Then how can this friendship betwene us two come to 
 passe ? 
 
 1 friend] omitted in 2d edit. 
 
 Menim dmilitudo consultat amicitias.] I think we should read 
 conciliat, Conciliat et conjungit inter se homines. Cic. Off. i. 16. 
 
 S.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 189 
 
 11 We are as like in condicions as Jacke Fletcher and 
 
 his bowlt; 
 
 I brought up in learnyng, but he is a very dolt, 
 As touching good letters; but otherwise such a craftie 
 
 knave, 
 
 Yf you seeke a whole region his lyke you can not have : 
 A villaine for his life, a varlet died in graine, 
 You lose money by him 12 if you sell him for one knave, 
 
 for hee serves for twaine : 
 A flatteryng parasite, a sicophant also, 
 A common accuser of men, to the good an open foe. 
 Of halfe a worde, he can make a legend of lies, 
 Which he wyll advouch with such tragicall cryes, 
 As though all were true that comes out of his mouth. 
 Were he indede to be hanged by and by,* 
 He cannot tell one tale, but twyse he must lie. 
 He spareth no man's life to get the kinge's favour, 
 In which kind of servis he hath got such a savour, f 
 That he wyll never leave. Methinke then that I 
 Have done verie wisely to joyne in friendship with him, 
 
 lest perhaps I 
 Comming in his way might be nipt; for such knaves 
 
 in presence, 
 We see oft times put honest men to silence : 
 
 11 We are as like in condicions, as Jacke Fletcher and his Ixtwlt] A 
 Fletcher is a maker of arrows, from fleche an arrow, Fr. The 
 Fletchers Company had several charters granted to them, though at 
 present, I believe, they have only a nominal existence. Aristippus 
 means to say, that he differs as much in disposition from Cari- 
 sophus, as Jack the arrowsmith varies in quality from a bolt or arrow 
 of his own making. S. 
 
 12 if you sell him for one knave, for hee serves for twaine] So, in 
 Leke to Leke, quoth the Devil to the Collier, 1589 : 
 
 " There thou mayst be called a knave in grane, 
 " And where knaves be scant thou mayst go for twayne." 
 See a Note on The Two Gentlemen of Verona, vol. 1. edit. 1778, 
 p. 176. S. 
 
 * Both the old editions give this line as follows : 
 
 " Where in dede to be hanged by and by." 
 The change was necessary to the sense. C. 
 t This whole line is omitted in the latest of the two old copies, 
 and as Mr. Reed aud his friend remarked in their notes, sometimes 
 even the variation of letters, it is singular that they should have 
 passed over this circumstance without observation. C.
 
 190 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Yet I have played with his beard in knitting this knot, 
 I promist friendship, but you love few wordes ; I spake 
 
 it, but I meant |S it not. 
 Who markes this friendship betwene us two 
 Shal judge of the worldely friendship without any more 
 
 a doo. 
 It may be a ryght patron thereof; but true friendship 
 
 in deede 
 
 Of nought but of vertue doth truly proseede. 
 But why do I now enter into philosophic, 
 Which doo professe the fine kind of curtesie? 
 I wyll hence to the court with all haste I may ; 
 I thinke the king be stirring, it is now bright day. 
 To wait at a pinche, still in sight I meane, 
 For wot ye what? a new broome sweepes cleane 14 . 
 As to hie honor I raynde not to clime, 
 So I meane in the court to lose no time : 
 Wherein, happy man be his dole 15 , 1 trust that I 
 Shall not speede worst, and that very quickly. [Exit. 
 
 Here entreth DAMON and PITHIAS lyke mariners. 
 
 Damon. O Neptune, immortall be thy prayse, 
 For that so safe from Greece we have past the seas 
 To this noble citie Siracusee, where we 
 The auncient raygne of the Romaines may see. 
 Whose force Greece also here tofore hath knowne, 
 Whose vertue the shrill trump of fame so farre hath blown e. 
 
 Pithias. My Damon, of right high prayse we ought to 
 
 geve 
 To Neptune and all the gods, that we safely dydarryve: 
 
 !* meant] meane, 2d edit. 
 
 ' 4 a new broome sweepes cleane~\ This was proverbial. See Ray's 
 Collection of Proverbs, p. 140. 
 
 14 happy man be his dnle~\ A proverbial expression often found in 
 ancient -writers. Dole, Mr. Steevens observes (Note to The Taming 
 of the Shreic, A. l.S. 1.), is any thing dealt out or distributed, 
 though its original meaning was the provision given away at the 
 doors of great men's houses. It is generally written be his dole, 
 though Ray, p. 116, gives it as in the 2d 4to. by his dole. Shak- 
 speare also uses the phrase in The Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 Again, in Hudibras, P. 1. C. 3. 1. 637 : 
 
 " Let us that are unhurt and whole 
 " Fall on, and happy man be's dole." 
 * 2
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 191 
 
 The seas, I thinke, with contrarywinds never raged so; 
 I am even yet so seasicke, that I faynt as I go ; 
 Therfore let us get some lodgyng quickely. 
 But where is Stephano? 
 
 Here entreth STEPHANO. 
 Stephano. Not farre hence : a pockes take these 
 
 maryner knaves, 
 Not one would healpe mee to carry this stufFe, such 
 
 dronken slaves 
 
 I thinke be accursed of the goddes owne mouthes. 
 Damon. Stephano, leave thy ragyng, and let us enter 
 
 Siracusse, 
 We wil provide lodgyng, and thou shalt be eased of thy 
 
 burden by and by. 
 Stephano. Good mayster make haste, for I tell you 
 
 playne, 
 
 This heavy burden puts poore Stephano to much payne. 
 
 Pithias. Come on thy wayes, thou shalt be eased, 
 
 and that anon. [Exeunt. 
 
 Here entreth C A m SOPH us. 
 Carisophus. It is a true saying, that oft hath bin 
 
 spoken, 
 The pitcher goeth so longe to the water, that it 16 
 
 commeth home broken. 
 
 My owne proofe this hath taught me, for truly sith I 
 In the citie have used towalkevery slyly, 
 Not with one can I meete, that wyll in talke joyne with 
 
 mee, 
 And to creepe into men's bosomes 17 : some talke for to 
 
 snatche, 
 But whiche, into one trip or other, I might trimly them 
 
 catche, 
 
 And so accuse them: now, not with one can I meete, 
 That wyl joyne in talke with me, I am shun'd lyke a 
 
 devill in the streete. 
 My credite is crackte where I am knowne ; but, I heare 
 
 . say, 
 
 Certaine straingers are arrived, they were a good pray, 
 18 ft] he, 1st edit. " bosomes] bosome, 2d edit.
 
 192 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 If happely I might meete with them, I fear not I, 
 But in talke I should trippe them, and that very finely. 
 Whiche thinge, I assure you, I doo for myne owne gayne, 
 Or els I woulde not plodde thus up and downe, I tell 
 
 you playne. 
 
 Well, I wyll for a whyle to the court, to see 
 What Aristippus doth ; I would be loth in faver he 
 
 should overrun me; 
 He is a subtile chyld, he flattereth so fynely, that I 
 
 feare mee 
 He wyll licke the fattefrom my lippes, and so outwery 
 
 mee: 
 
 Therfore I wyll not be longe absent, but at hand, 
 That all his fine driftes I may understande. [Exit. 
 
 Hereentreth WYLL and JACKE. 
 Wyll. I wonder what my master Aristippus meanes 
 
 now adaies, 
 
 That he leaveth philosophic, and seekes i to please 
 Kyng Dionisius with such mery toyes : 
 In Dionisius' court now he only joyes, 
 As trim a courtier as the best, 
 
 Ready to aunswer, quicke in tauntes, pleasaunt to jeste ; 
 A lusty companion to devise with fine dames, 
 Whose humour to feede, his wylie witte he frames. 
 
 Jacke. By cocke, as you say, your maister is a minion ; 
 A foule coyle he keepes in this court ; Aristippus alone 
 Now rules the roaste with his pleasant devises, 
 That I feare he wyll put out of conceit my maister 
 
 Carisophus. 
 Wyll. Feare not that, Jacke ; for like brother and 
 
 brother, 
 
 They are knit in true friendship the one with the other ; 
 They are fellowes you knowe and honest men both, 
 Therfore the one to hinder the other they will be lothe. 
 Jacke. Yea, but I have heard say there is falshod in 
 
 felowshippe, 
 
 In the court sometimes one geves another finely the 
 slippe: 
 
 18 seekes] seeketh, 2d edit.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 19, r 
 
 Which when it is spied, it is laught out with a scoffe l) , 
 And with sporting and playing quietly 20 shaken of: 
 In which kinde of toying thy master hath such a grace, 
 That he wyll never blush, he hath a wodden face. 
 But, Wyll, my maister hath bees in his head, 
 If hee fynde mee heare pratinge, I am but dead : 
 He is still trotting in the citie, tliere is sumwhat in the 
 
 winde; 
 
 His lookes bewrayes his inwarde troubled mynde : 
 Therfore I wyll be packing to the courte by and by; 
 If he be once angry, Jacke shall cry wo the pye. 
 
 Wyll. Byr lady, if I tary longe here of the same 
 
 sauce shall I tast, 
 For my master sent mee on an errand, and bad mee 
 
 make haste, 
 Therfore we wyll departe together. [Exeunt. 
 
 Here entreth STEPHANO. 
 Stephana. Ofte times I have heard, before I came 
 
 hether, 
 
 That no man can serve two maisters together; 
 A sentence so true, as moste men dootake it, 
 At any time false that no man can make it : 
 And yet by their leave, that first have it spoken, 
 How that may prove false, even here I wyll open : 
 For I Stcphano, loe, so named by my father, 
 At this time serve two masters together, 
 And love them a lyke the one and the other; 
 I duely obey, I can doo no other. 
 A bondman I am, so nature hath wrought me, 
 One Damon of Greece, a gentleman, bought me. 
 To him I stande bond, yet serve I another, 
 Whom Damon my master loves as his owne brother: 
 A gentleman too, and Pithias he is named, 
 Fraught with vertue, whom vice never defamed. 
 These twoo, since at schoole they fell acquainted, 
 In rnutuall friendship at no time have fainted, 
 But loved so kindly and friendly eche other, 
 As thoughe they were brothers by father and mother. 
 
 19 scoffe} grace, 2d edit. ' a quiethj] quickly, 2d edit, 
 
 voi. i.
 
 194 . DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Pythagoras learnynge these two have embrased, 
 
 Which bothe are in vertue so narrowly laced, 
 
 That all their whole doings do fall to this issue, 
 
 To have no respect but onely to vertue : 
 
 All one in effecte, all one in their goynge, 
 
 All one in their study, all one in their doyng. 
 
 These gentlemen both, beyng of one condicion, 
 
 Both alike of my service have all the fruition : 
 
 Pithias is joyful! if Damon be pleased : 
 
 Yf Pithias be served, then Damon is eased. 
 
 Serve one, serve both, so neare, who would win them ? 
 
 I thinke they have but one hart betwene them. 
 
 In travelyng countreyes, we three have contrived 5l , 
 
 Full many a yeare, and this day arrived 
 
 At SiracusaR in Sicilia, that auncient towne, 
 
 Where my masters are lodged ; and I up and downe 
 
 Go seekyng to learne what news here are walkyng, 
 
 To harke of what thynges the people are talkynge. 
 
 I lyke not this soyle, for as I goe ploddynge, 
 
 I marke there two, there three, their heades alwayes 
 
 noddinge, 
 
 In close secret wise, styll whisperyng together. 
 If I aske any question, no man doth answer : 
 But shakyng their heads, they go their wayes speak - 
 
 inge, 
 
 I marke how with teares their wet eyes are leakynge : 
 Some strangnesse there is, that breedeth this musinge. 
 Well, I wyll to my masters, and tell of their using, 
 That they may learne, and walke wisely together : 
 I feare we shall curse the time we came hether. [Exit. 
 
 si we three have contrived, 
 
 Full many a yeare :] To contrive, in this place, signifies to wear 
 away, to spend, from contero, Lat. So, in Shakspeare's Taming of 
 the Shrew, A. 1. S. 2. 
 
 Please you we many contrive this afternoon 1 
 Totum hunc contrivi diem. S. 
 
 See also the Notes of Dr. Warburton and Dr. Johnson on the 
 above line in Shakspeare.
 
 DAMON AND PITIIIAS. 195 
 
 Here entreth ARISTIPPUS and WYLL. 
 Aristippus. Wyll, didst thou heare the ladies so 
 
 talke of mee ? 
 What ayleth them ? from their nippes 21 * shall I never 
 
 be free ? 
 Wyll. Good faith, sir, all the ladies in the courte do 
 
 plainly report, 
 That without mencion of them you can make no 
 
 sporte : 
 
 They are your playne song to singe descant upon 28 ; 
 If they weare not, your mirth were gone. 
 Therfore, master, jest no more with women in any 
 
 wise, 
 
 If you doo, by cocke, you are lyke to know the price. 
 Aristippus. Byr lady, Wyll, this is good counsell : 
 
 playnely to jest 
 
 Of women, proofe hath taught mee it is not the best: 
 I wyll change my coppy, how be it I care not a 
 
 quinche 23 , 
 
 I know the galde horse will soonest winche : 
 But learne thou secretly what prively they talke 
 Of me in the courte : among them slyly walke, 
 And bring me true newes thereof. 
 
 Wyll. I wyll, sir, maister therof have no doubt, 
 
 for I 
 
 Wheare they talke of you wyll enforme you perfectly. 
 Aristippus. Do so, my boy : if thou bringe it finely 
 
 to passe, 
 For thy good service thou shalt go in thine olde coate 
 
 at Christmas. [Exeunt. 
 
 2 ! nippes] taunts, or sarcasms. See Johnson. N. 
 
 a * playne song, to iinge descant upon.'] Plain song, is plamu cantut, 
 uniform modulation. Descant, is musical paraphrase. See a Note 
 on The Midsummer Night's Dream, vol. 8, p. 63. ; and another on 
 King Richard III. vol. 7. p. 6. edit. 1778. S. 
 
 513 I care not a quinche.] Spenser has this word, which, as Dr. 
 Johnson observes, appears to be the same as winch. It should seem 
 to be expressive of some slight degree of pain, and in this instance 
 to mean the same as if the speaker had said, I care iiot a fillip. S.
 
 196 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Enter DAMON, PITHIAS, STEPHANO. 
 ' Damon. Stephano, is all this true that thou hast tolde 
 
 me? 
 Stephano. Sir, for lies hetherto ye never coutrolde 
 
 mee. 
 
 Oh that we had never set foote on this land, 
 Where -Dionisius raygnes with so bloody a hande ! 
 Every day he sheweth some token of crueltie, 
 With blood he hath filled all the streetes in the citie : 
 I tremble to heare the people's murmuring, 
 I lament to see his most cruell dealyng : 
 I thinke there 1s no suche tyraunt under the sunne. 
 O, my deare masters, this mornyng, what hath he 
 
 done! 
 
 Damon. What is that ? tell us quickly. 
 Stephano. As I this mornyng past in the streete. 
 With a wofull man (going to his death) did 1 meete, 
 Many people folowed, and I of one secretly 
 Asked the cause, why he was condemned to die ? 
 Whispered in mine eare, nought hath he done but 
 
 thus, 
 
 24 In his sleape he dreamed he had killed Dionisius : 
 Which dreame tolde abrode, was brought to the kinge 
 
 in poste, 
 By whome, condemned for suspicion, his lyfe he hath 
 
 .lost. 
 Marcia was his name, as the people sayde. 
 
 Pithias. My deare friende Damon, I blame not 
 
 Stephano 
 For wishyng we had not come hether, seeyinge it is so, 
 
 84 In his sleape he dreamed he killed Dionisius.'] A late writer observes, 
 that " Dionysius the tyrant is said to have punished with death 
 ' one of his subjects, for dreaming he had killed him. This was 
 ' hardly more iniquitous than the execution of the gentleman, who 
 ' having a white deer in his park, which was killed by Edward the 
 ' Fourth, wished the deer, horns and all, in the belly of him that 
 ' counselled the. king to kill it, whereas in truth no man counselled the 
 ' king to it: or than the attainder and execution of Algernon 
 ' Sydney, on the evidence of private and unpublished papers, 
 ' without any proof, or even a suggestion, of their intended pub- 
 (' lication." Principles of Penal Law, C. 11.
 
 DAMON A^D PITHIAS. 197 
 
 That for so small cause, suche cruell death doth insuc. 
 Damon. My Pithias, where tirantes raigne suche 
 
 cases are not new, 
 
 Which fearynge their owne state for great crueltie 25 , 
 To sit fast as they thinke, doo execute speedely 
 All suche as any light suspition have tainted. 
 
 Stephana. With such quicke karvers I lyst not be 
 
 acquainted. 
 Damon. So are they never in quiet, but in suspicion 
 
 styll, 
 When one is made away, they take occasion another to 
 
 ' kyll: 
 Ever in feare, having no trustie friende, voyd of all 
 
 people's love, 
 And in their owne conscience a continuall hell they 
 
 proove. 
 Pithias. As thynges by their contraryes are always 
 
 best prooved, 
 How happie then are mercifull princes of their people 
 
 beloved ! 
 Havyng sure friends every wheare no feare doth touch 
 
 them, 
 They may safely spend the daye pleasantly, at night 
 
 Secure dormiunt in utramque aurem, 
 O my Damon, if choyce were offred mee, I would 
 
 choose to be Pithias 
 As I am (Damon's friende) rather then to be kyng 
 
 Dionisius. 
 Stephano. And good cause why; for you are entierly 
 
 beloved of one, 
 
 And as farre as I heare, Dionisius is beloved of none. 
 Damon. That state is moste miserable: thrice happy 
 
 are wee, 
 
 Whom true love hath joyned in perfect amytie : 
 Which amytie first sprong, without vaunting be it 
 
 spoken, that is true, 
 
 Of likelines of maners, tooke roote by company, and 
 now is conserved by vertue ; 
 
 85 for great crueltie.] With crueltie, 2d edit.
 
 98 ' DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Which vertue alwaies though 26 worldly things do not 
 
 frame, 
 
 Yet doth she atchive to her followers immortall fame : 
 Wherof if men were carefull, for vertues sake onely 
 They would honour friendship, and not for commoditie. 
 But such as for profile in friendship do lincke, 
 When stormes come, they slide away sooner then a man 
 
 wyll thinke. 
 
 My Pithias, the somme of my talke falles to this issue, 
 To prove no friendship is sure, but that which is 
 
 grounded on vertue. 
 Pithias. My Damon, of this thyng there needes no 
 
 proofe to mee, 
 The gods forbyd, but that Pithyas with Damon in al 
 
 things shuld agree. 
 For why is it said, Amicus alter ipse, 
 But that true friendes should be two in body, but one 
 
 in minde ? 
 As it were transformed into another, which against 
 
 kynde 
 
 Though it seeme, yet in good faith, when I am alone, 
 I forget I am Pithias, methinke I am Damon. 
 
 Stephanoi That could I never doo, to forget myselfe ; 
 
 full well I know, 
 
 Wheresoever I go, that I am pauper Stephano : 
 But I pray you, sir, for all your phylosophie, 
 See that in this courte you walke very wisely. 
 You are but newly come hether ; beyng straungers ye 
 
 know 
 
 Many eyes are bent on you in the streetes as ye go : 
 Many spies are abroad, you can not be too circum- 
 spect. 
 Damon. Stephano, because thou art carefull of mee 
 
 thy maister, I do thee praise ; 
 Yet thinke this for a suertie, no state to displease 
 By talke or otherwise : my friende and I entende, we 
 
 wyll here 
 As men that come to see the soyle and maners of al 
 
 men of every degree. 
 
 '* though] through, both editions. The alteration by Mr. Dodsley.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 199 
 
 Pithagoras said, that this worlde was like a stage' 27 , 
 Wheron many play their partes : the lookers-on, the 
 
 sage 
 
 Phylosophers are, saith he, whose parte is to learne 
 The maners of all nations, and the good from the bad 
 
 to discerne. 
 Stephana. Good faith, sir, concernynge the people 
 
 they are not gay, 
 And as farre as I see they be mummers; for nought 
 
 they say, 
 
 For the moste parte, what so ever you aske them. 
 The soyle is suche, that to live heare I can not lyke. 
 Damon. Thou speakest accordynge to thy learnynge, 
 
 but I say, 
 Omne solumforti patrice, * a wise man may lyve every 
 
 wheare ; 
 
 Therfore, my deare friende Pithias, 
 Let us view this towne in everie place, 
 And then consider the peoples maners also. 
 
 Pithias. As you wyll, my Damon ; but how say you 
 
 Stephano ? 
 
 Is it not best ere we go further to take some repast? 
 Stephano. In faith, I lyke well this question, sir : for 
 
 all your haste, 
 
 To eate somewhat, I pray you, think it no folly ; 
 It is hie dinner time, I know by my belly. 
 
 Damon. Then let us to our lodging departe : when 
 
 dinner is done, 
 We wyll view this citie as we have begonne. [Exeunt. 
 
 Here entreth CARISOPIIUS. 
 Carisophus. Once agayne in hope of good wynd, I 
 
 hoyse up my sayle, 
 
 I goe into the citie to finde som pray for myne availe : 
 I hunger while I may see the straungers that lately 
 Arrived, I were safe if once I might meete them happily. 
 Let them barke that lust at this kinde of gaine, 
 He is a foole that for his profit will not take payne : 
 
 27 was like a stage] is lyke unto a stage, 2d edit. 
 * This sentence stands in the old copies, 
 Omnis solumfnrtis patria. C.
 
 200 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Though it be joyned with other mens hurt, I care not 
 
 at all, 
 
 For profit I wyll accuse any man, hap what shall. 
 But soft, syrs, I pray you huysh : what are they that 
 
 comes here? 
 By their apparell and countinuaunce some strangers 
 
 they appeare. 
 
 I wyll shrowde my selfe secretly, even here for a while. 
 To heare all their talke, that I may them beguyle. 
 
 Here entreth DAMON and STEPHANO. 
 Stephann. A shorte horse soone curried 58 ; my belly 
 
 waxeth thinner, 
 
 I am as hungry now, as when I went to dinner: 
 Your philosophicall diet is so fine and small, 
 That you may eate your dinner and supper at once, and 
 
 not surfaite at all. 
 Damon. Stephano, much meat breedes heavynes; 
 
 thinne diet makes thee light. 
 Stephano. I may be lighter thereby, but I shall never 
 
 run the faster. 
 
 Damon. I have had sufficiently discourse of amitie 
 Which I had at dinner with Pithias ; and his pleasaunt 
 
 companie 
 Hath fully satisfied me: it doth mee good to f'eede 
 
 myne eyes on him. 
 Stephano. Course or discourse, your course is very 
 
 course ; for all your talke, 
 You had but one bare course, and that was pike, rise 
 
 and walke: 
 
 And surely, for all your talke of philosophic, 
 I never heard that a man with wordes could fill his 
 
 belly. 
 
 Feede your eyes (quoth you) the reason from my wis- 
 dom swarveth, 
 
 I stared on you both, and yet my belly starveth. 
 Damon. Ah Stephano, small diet maketh a fine 
 
 memorie. 
 Stephano. I care not for your craftie sophistrie, 
 
 28 4 shorte horse soone curried j] See Ray's Proverbs, p. 156.
 
 DAMON AND PITIIIAS. 201 
 
 You two are fine, let mee be fed like a grose knave styll 
 I pray you licence mee for a while to have my will, 
 At home to tary, whiles you take vew of this citie : 
 To fynde some odde victualles in a corner I am verie 
 
 wittie. 
 Damon. At your pleasure, sir, I \vyll wayte on my 
 
 selfe this daye ; 
 Yet attende upon Pithias, whiche for a purpose tarieth 
 
 at home : 
 So doyng, you wayte upon mee also. 
 
 Stephana. With winges on my feete I go. [Exit. 
 Damon. Not in vain the poet sayeth, Naturamfurcd 
 
 erpellas, tamen usque recurrlt ; 
 
 For trayne up a bondman never to so good a behaviour, 
 Yet in some poinct of servilitie he wyll savour: 
 As this Stephano, trustie to mee his master, lovyng and 
 
 kinde, 
 
 Yet touchyng his belly a very bondman I him finde. 
 He is to be borne withall, beyng so just and true, 
 I assure you, I would not chaunge him for no new: 
 But mee thinkes, this is a pleasant citie, 
 The seate is good 29 , and yet not stronge, and that is 
 
 great pittie. 
 
 Carisoplius. I am safe, he is myne owne. 
 Damon. The ayre subtle and fine, the people should 
 
 be wittie, 
 
 That dwell under this climate in so pure a region: 
 A trimmer plotte I have not scene in my peregrination. 
 Nothing mislyketh mee in this countrey, 
 But that I heare such mutteryng of crueltie : 
 Fame reporteth strange thynges of Dionisius, 
 But kynges matters passyng our reache, pertayne not 
 
 to us. 
 Carisophus. Dionisius (quoth you) since the worlde 
 
 began, 
 In Cicilia never raygned so cruell a man : 
 
 49 The seate is good,] The seate means the situation. See, in Dr. 
 Johnson's Dictionary, instances of it, from Raleigh, Hayward, 
 Bacon, and 13. Jonson. N. 
 
 50 Duncan, in Macbeth, says : 
 
 " This castle hath a pleasant seat.
 
 202 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 A despightfull tirant to all men, I marvayle I, 
 That none makes him away, and that sodaynly. 
 
 Damon. My friende, the goddes forbyd so cruell a 
 
 thynge, 
 That any man should lift up his sworde against the 
 
 kynge : 
 
 Or seeke other meanes by death him to prevent, 
 Whom to rule on earth the mightie goddes have sent. 
 But, my frende, leave off this talke of kynge Dionisius. 
 Carisophus. Why, sir ? he cannot hear us. 
 Damon. What then? An nescis longas regibus esse 
 
 man us ? 
 
 It is no safe talkynge of them that strykes afarre off. 
 But leavyng kynges matters, I pray you shew me this 
 
 curtesie, 
 
 To describe in few wordes the state of this citie. 
 A travayler I am, desirous to know 
 The state of eche countrey, wher ever I go : 
 Not to the hurt of any state, but to get experience 
 
 therby. 
 
 It is not for nought, that the poet doth crye, 
 Die mihi musa virum, capttzpost tempora Troja, 
 Qui mores hominum multorum vidit et urbes. * 
 In whiche verses, as some writers do scan, 
 The poet describeth a perfect wise man : 
 Even so, I beyng a stranger, addicted to phylosophie, 
 To see the state of countreyes my selfe I applie. 
 
 Carisophus. Sir, I lyke this entent, but may I aske 
 
 your name without scorne ? 
 Damon. My name is Damon, well knowen in my 
 
 countrey, a gentleman borne. 
 Carisophus. You do wisely, to serche the state of 
 
 eche countrie 
 
 To beare intelligence therof, whether you lust. He 
 is a spie, 
 
 * This quotation is given as follows in both the old copies. 
 
 Die mihi musa virum captte post tempora Troja, 
 
 Multorum homines mores qui vidit et urbes. 
 
 Query Was it meant by the Author that Damon should mis- 
 quote. C.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 203 
 
 Sir, I pray you, have pacience a while, for I have to 
 
 do here by : 
 View this weak parte of this citie as you stand, and I 
 
 very quickly 
 
 Wyll retourne to you agayne, and then wyll I show . 
 The state of all this countrie, and of the courte also. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Damon. I thanke you for your courtesie. This 
 
 chaunceth well that I 
 Met with this gentleman so happely, 
 Whiche, as it seemeth, misliketh some thynge, 
 Els he would not talke so boldly of the kynge, 
 And that to a stranger : but loe were he comes in 
 haste. 
 
 Here entreth CARISOPHUS and SNAP. 
 Carisophus. 30 This is he, felow : Snap snap him 
 
 up : away with him. 
 Snap. Good felow, thou must go with mee to the 
 
 courte. 
 
 Damon. To the court, sir ? and why ? 
 Carisophus. Well, we wyll dispute that before the 
 
 kynge. Away with hym quickly. 
 Damon. Is this the curtesie you promysed mee, and 
 
 that very lately : 
 
 Carisophus. Away with hym, I say. 
 Damon. Use no violence, I wyll go with you 
 quietly. [Exeunt omnes. 
 
 Here entreth ARISTIPPUS. 
 Aristippus. Ah, sira, byr lady, Aristippus lykes Dio- 
 
 nius' court very well, 
 
 Whiche in passyng joyes, and plasures, doth excell. 
 Where he hath DapsilaE ccenas gemalis lectes et auro 
 Fulgentii turgmani zonam. * 
 I have plied the harvest, and stroke when the yron was 
 
 hotte ; 
 
 When I spied my time, I was not squemish to crave, 
 God wotte. 
 
 30 This is he, &c.] This is the, &c. 2d edit. 
 
 * Instead of this corrupted nonsense, I suppose we should read,
 
 204 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 But with some pleasant toye 31 , I crept into the kinges 
 bosome, 
 
 For whiche Dionisius gave me Auri talentum magnum ; 
 
 A large rewarde for so simple services. 
 
 What then? the kinges prayse standeth chiefly in 
 bountifulnesse : 
 
 Which thynge, though I tolde the kyng very plea- 
 santly, 
 
 Yet can I proove it by good writers of great anti- 
 quitie : 
 
 But that shall not neede at this time, since that I have 
 aboundantly. 
 
 When I lack hereafter, I wyll use this poinct of phy- 
 losophie : 
 
 But now, where as I have felt the kynges lyberalytie, 
 
 As princely as it-came, I wyll spende it as regallie : 
 
 Money is current, men say, and currant comes of Cur- 
 rendo : 
 
 Then wyll I make money runne, as his nature requir- 
 eth, I trow. 
 
 For what becomes a philosopher best, 
 
 But to dispise mony above the rest ? 
 
 And yet, not so despise it, but to have in store, 
 
 Enoughe to serve his owne tourne, and somewhat 
 more. 
 
 With sondrie sportes and tauntes, yester night I de- 
 lighted the kinge, 
 
 That with his lowde laughter the whole courte did 
 ring, 
 
 And I thought he laught not merier then I, wlien I 
 got this money. 
 
 But, mumbouget 3 * for Carisophus I espie 
 
 dapsiles ctenas, genioles lectos, et auro 
 
 Fulgentem tyrunne zonam. 
 
 i. e. plentiful suppers, luxurious couches, and the king's purse 
 full of gold at command. 
 
 Aristippus was not intended for a blunderer. S. 
 
 31 fot/es,] tyoe, 1st edit. 
 
 32 mumbmigtt] A cant term for be silent ; mum and budget are 
 the words made use of by Slender and Ann Page in The Merry 
 Wives of Windsor.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 206 
 
 In haste to come hether : I must handle the knave 
 
 finely. 
 Oh, Carisophus, my dearest frinde, my trusty com- 
 
 panyon ! 
 What newes with you ? where have you been solonge ? 
 
 Here enlreth CAHISOPHUS. 
 Carisophus. My best beloved friend Aristippus, I 
 
 am come at last, 
 
 I have not spent all my time in wast. 
 I have got a pray, and that a good one, I trow. 
 
 Aristippus. What pray is that? faine would I know. 
 Carisophus. Such a crafty spie I have caught, I dare 
 
 say, 
 
 As never was in Cicilia before this day ; 
 Suche a one as vewed every weake place in the citie, 
 Survewed the haven, and each bulwarke, in talke very 
 
 wittie : 
 
 And yet by some wordes him selfe he dyd bewray. 
 Aristippus. I th'inke so in good faith, as you did 
 
 handle him. 
 Carisophus. I handled him clarkly, I joyned in talke 
 
 with himc ourteously : 
 But when we were entred, I let him speake his wyll, 
 
 and I 
 Suckt out thus much of his words, that I made him 
 
 say playnely, 
 
 He was come nether to know the state of the citie ; 
 And not onely this, but that he would understande 
 The state of Dionisius' courte, and of the whole land. 
 Which wordes when I heard, I desired him to staye, 
 Till I had done a little businesse of the way. 
 Promising him to retume agayne quickly ; and so did 
 
 convaye 
 Myselfe to the court for Snap the tipstaffe, which 
 
 came and upsnatched him, 
 Brought him to the court, and in the porter's lodge 
 
 dispatched him, 
 
 After I ran to Dionisius, as fast as I could, 
 And bewrayed this matter to him, which I have you 
 told'e ;
 
 206 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Which thinge when hee heard, beinge very mery be- 
 fore, 
 
 He soddainly fell in dump, and fomynge like a bore, 
 At last, he swore in great rage, that he should die 
 By the sworde, or the wheele, and that very shortly. 
 I am too shamfast, for my travell and toyle 
 I crave uothinge of Dionisus, but onelv his spoyle : 
 Litle hath he about him, but a few motheaten crownes 
 
 of golde, 
 Cha poucht them up all ready, they are sure in 
 
 hold: 
 
 And now I goe into the citie, to say sooth, 
 To see what he hath at his lodginge to make up my 
 
 mouth. 
 
 Aristippus, My Carisophus, you have don good ser- 
 vice. But what is the spie's name ? 
 Carisophus. He is called Damon, borne in Greece, 
 
 from whence latly he came. 
 Aristippus. By my trouth, I will goe see him, and 
 
 speak with him to if I may. 
 
 Carisophus. Doo so, I pray you ; but yet by the way, 
 As occasion serveth, commende my service to the 
 
 kinge. 
 
 Aristippus. Dictum sapienti sat est : friend Cariso- 
 phus, shal I forget that thinge ? 
 No, I warrant you : though I say litle to your face, 
 I wyll lay on with my mouth for you to Dionisius *, 
 
 when I am in place. 
 
 If I speake one worde for such a knave hang mee. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Carisophus. Our fine Phylosopher, our trimme learned 
 
 elfe, 
 
 Is gone to see as false a spie as himselfe. 
 Damon smatters as well as he, of craftie pilosophie, 
 And can tourne cat in the panne 33 very pretily: 
 
 * The first -edition reads ; 
 
 " I wyll lay one mouth for you to Dionisius," &c. 
 which was altered in the 2d edition as it stands in the text. *C. 
 
 33 tmirne cut in the panne] A proverbial expression, of which it is 
 difficult to give a satisfactory explanation, though the meaning of it 
 is sufficiently ohvious. A gentleman, who formerly wrote in The
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 207 
 
 But Carisophus hath given him such a mightie 
 
 checke, 
 
 As I thinke in the ende will breake his necke 
 What care I for that? why would S4 he then prie, 
 And learn the secret estate of our countrey and citie ? 
 He is but a stranger, by his fall let others be wise, 
 T care not who fall so that I may ryse. 
 As for fine Aristippus, I wyll keepe in with hym, 
 He is a shrewde foole to deale withall, he can swym; 
 And yet by my trouth, 35 to speake my conscience 
 
 playnely, 
 
 I wyll use his friendship to myne owne commodytie : 
 While Dionisius favoureth him, Aristippus shal be 
 
 mine ; 
 But if the kyng once frowne on him, then good night, 
 
 Tomaline : 
 He shal be as straunge, as thoughe I never sawe hym 
 
 before. 
 
 But I tarie too longe, I wyll prate no more. 
 Jacke come away. 
 Jacke. At hande, syr. 
 
 Carisophus. At Damon's lodgyng if that you see 
 Any sturre to arise, be styll at hand by mee : 
 
 Gentleman's Magazine under a feigned name, supposes the word cat 
 should be changed to cate ; " an old word for a cuke, or other au- 
 " malette, which being usually fried, and consequently turn'd in the 
 " pan, does therefore very aptly express the changing of sides 
 " in politics or religion, or, as we otherwise say, the turning one's 
 " coat.'' Cent. M. 1754, p. 66. Another writer, however, gives 
 the following explanation of it : " Catipan, to turn catipan, from a 
 " people called Catipani, in Calabria and Apulia, who got an ill name 
 " by reason of their perfidy ; very falsely by us called Cat in pan.'' 
 Ibid. p. 172. 
 
 34 would] should, 2d edit. 
 
 34 to speakf. mwi conscience playnely, 
 
 I wyll use his friendship to myneowne commodytie :] Commodity is 
 interest. So, in the former part of this Play, r p. 198, 
 
 " They would honour friendship, and not for commoditie :" * 
 
 Kfas John, A. 2. S. 2. 
 
 Commodity, the bias of the world.
 
 208 DAMON AND PITTIIAS. 
 
 Rather than I wyll lose the spoyle, I wyll blade it out. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Here entereth PITHIAS and STEPHANO. 
 Pithias. What straunge newes are these! ah, my 
 
 Stephano, 
 Is my Damon in pryson, as the voyce doth go ? 
 
 Stephano. It is true, oh cruell happe ! he is taken 
 
 for a spie, 
 And as they say, by Dionisius owne mouth condempned 
 
 to die. 
 
 Pithias. To die ! alas ! for what cause ? 
 Stephano. A sicophant falsely accused hym : other 
 
 cause there is none. 
 
 But oh Jupiter, of all wronges the revenger, 
 Seest thou this unjustice, and wilt thou staie any 
 
 longer 
 From heaven to sende downe thy hot consumying 
 
 fire, 
 To destroy the workers of wronge, whiche provoke thy 
 
 just ire? 
 
 Alas ! maister Pithias, what shall we do, 
 Being in a strange countrey, voyde of friendes, and 
 
 acquaintance too ? 
 
 Ah, poor Stephano, hast thou lived to see this daye, 
 To see thy true mayster unjustly made away? 
 
 Pithias. Stephano, seeyng the matter is come to this 
 
 extremytie, 
 
 Let us make vertue our friend, of meare necessytie. 
 Runne thou to the court, and understand secretly 
 As muche as thou canst of Damon's cause, and I 
 Will make some means to entreate Aristippus : 
 He can do much as I heare with king Dionisius. 
 
 Stephano. I am gone, sir Ah, I would to God my 
 
 travayle and payne. 
 Myght restore my mayster to his lybertie agayne! 
 
 Pithias. Ah wofull Pithias 1 sithe now I am alone, 
 What way shall I first beginne to make my mone? 
 What wordes shall I finde apt for my complaynte ? 
 Damon, my friend, my joy, my life, is in peril, of force 
 
 I must now faint.
 
 DAMON AND PITIIIAS. 209 
 
 But, oh rausicke, as in joyful! tunes* thy mery notes I 
 
 did borow, 
 
 So now lend mee thy yernfull tunes, to utter my sor- 
 row. 
 
 Here PITHIAS singes, and the regalles 56 play. 
 Awake ye woful wightes, 
 
 That longe have wept in wo : 
 Resigne to mee your plaintes and teares, 
 
 My haplesse hap to sho. 
 My wo no tongue can tell, 
 Ne pen can well descrie : 
 
 O tvhat a death is this to heare 
 Damon my friende must die ! 
 
 The losse of worldly wealth, 
 
 Mannes wisdome may restore, 
 And physickc hath provided too 
 
 A salve for everie sore : 
 But my truefrende once lost, 
 No arte can well supplie : 
 
 Then, what a death is this to heare, 
 Damon my friend must die ! 
 
 My mouth refuse thefoode, 
 
 That should my limmes sustayne : 
 
 Let sorow sinke in to my brest, 
 And ransacke every vayne : 
 
 9 Perhaps we ought to read " as in joyfull times" which seems 
 more consistent with the context, and tunes is an ordinary error of 
 the press. C. 
 
 36 regiitles] Regale sorta di strumento simile all" organo, tna- 
 ininore. Attieri Diziin. Ital. ed Ing. Lord Bacon distinguishes 
 between the regul and the organ in a manner which shews them to 
 be instruments of the same class. " The sounds that produce tones 
 " are ever from sucli bodies as have their parts and pores equal, as 
 " are nightingale pipes of regals or organs." Nat. Hist. Cent. 2. Sect. 
 102. But, notwithstanding these authorities, the appellative regal 
 has given great trouble to the lexicographer, whose sentiments with 
 regard to its signification are collected and brought into one point 
 of view by Sir John Hawkins, in his History of Musick, Vol. II. p. 
 448, from whence this Note is extracted. See also a Note, by the 
 Hon. Daines Banington, to Hamlet, A. 3. S. 2. in the Edition of 
 ^hakspeare 177S, omitted in that of 1778. 
 
 VOL. i. p
 
 210 DAMON AND PITlIIASr 
 
 You Furies all at once 
 On me your torments trie : 
 
 Why should I live, since that s / heare 
 Damon my friend must Si die ! 
 
 Gripe me, you greedy greefs, 
 
 And present pangues of death, 
 You systers three, with cruell handes, 
 With speed come 39 stop my breath: 
 Shrine me in clay alive, 
 
 Some good man stop mine eye : 
 O death com now, seing I heare 
 Damon my friend must die. 
 
 He speaketh this after the songe. 
 In vaine I call for death, which heareth not my 
 
 complaint : 
 
 But what wisdome is this, in such extremytie to faint? 
 Multumjuvat in re mala animus bonus. 
 1 wyll to the court my selfe, to make friendes, and that 
 
 presently. 
 
 I wyll never forsake my friende in time of miserie 
 But do I see Stephano amazed hether to ronne? 
 
 Here entreth STEPHANO. 
 
 Stephano. O Pithias, Pithias, we are all undone ! 
 Mine owne eares have sucked in mine owne sorow ; 
 I heard Dionisius sweare, that Damon should die to 
 
 morrow. 
 Pithias. How earnest thou so neare' the presence of 
 
 the kynge, 
 
 That thou mightest heare Dionisius speake this thynge ? 
 Stephano. By friendship I gate into the courte, where, 
 
 in great audience, 
 I heard Dionisius with his owne mouth geve this cruell 
 
 sentence, 
 By these expresse wordes : that Damon the Greeke, 
 
 that craftie spie, 
 Without farther judgement, to morow should die : 
 
 37 since that] seeing, 2dedit. 38 wttst] should, 1st edit. 
 
 39 come] now, 1st edit.
 
 DAMON AND PITHTAS. 211 
 
 Beleeve mee, Pithias, with these eares I heard it my- 
 
 selfe. 
 Pithias. Then how neare is my death also. Ah, woe 
 
 is mee ! 
 
 Ah, my Damon, another myselfe, shall I forgo thee? 
 Stephana. Syr, there is no tyme of lamentyng now : 
 
 it behoveth us 
 To make meanes to them which can doo much with 
 
 Dionisius, 
 That he be not made awaye, ere his cause be fully 
 
 heard ; for we see, 
 By evyll reporte, thynges be made to princes farre 
 
 worse then they bee. 
 But lo, yonder commeth Aristippus, in great favour 
 
 with kyng Dionisius, 
 Entreate hym to speake a good worde to the kynge 
 
 for us, 
 
 And in the meane season I wyll to your lodgyng to see 
 all thynges safe there. [Exit. 
 
 Pithias. To that T agree : but let us slip aside his 
 talke to heare. 
 
 Here entreth ARISTIPPUS. 
 
 Here is a sodayne chaunge indeede, a strange meta- 
 morphosis, 
 This courte is cleane altered : who would have thought 
 
 this? 
 
 Dionisius of late so pleasant and mery 
 Is quite changed now into suche melancholy, 
 That nothyng can please hym: he walked up and 
 
 downe, 
 
 Fretting and chafyng, on everie man he doth frowne ; 
 In so much, that when I in pleasant wordes began to 
 
 play, 
 
 So sternly he frowned on mee, and knit me up so short, 
 I perceyve it is no safe playing with lyons, but when it 
 
 plense ihem ; 
 
 If you claw where it itch not, you shall disease them, 
 And so perhaps get a clap ; myne owne proofe taught 
 
 mee this, 
 That it is very good to be mery and wise.
 
 212 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 The onely cause of this hurly-burly is Carisophus, that 
 
 wicked man, 
 
 Which lately tooke Damon for a spie, a poore gentle- 
 man, 
 And hath incenced the kynge against him so despight^ 
 
 fully, 
 
 That Dionisius hath judged him to morow to die. 
 I have talkt with Damon, whom though in words I 
 
 found very wittie, 
 Yet was he more curious then wise in viewyng this 
 
 citie : 
 But truly, for aught I can learne, there is no cause 
 
 why 
 So sodenly and cruelly he should be condempned to 
 
 die : 
 
 How soever it be, this is the short and longe, 
 I dare not gainsay the kynge, be it right or wrong : 
 I am sory, and that is all I may or can doo in this case : 
 Nought avayleth perswasion where frowarde opinion 
 
 taketh place. 
 
 Pithias. Sir, if humble sutes you would not dispise, 
 Then bow on 40 mee your pitifull eyes. 
 My name is Pithias, in Greece well knowne, 
 A perfect friend to that wofull Damon, 
 Whiche now a poore captive in this courte doth lie, 
 By the kynges owne mouth, as I here, condemned to die ; 
 For whom I crave your masterships goodnesse, 
 To stand his friende in this his great distresse. 
 Nought hath he done worthy of death, but very fondly, 
 Being a straunger, he vewed this citie 
 For no evill practises, but to feede his eyes. . 
 But seing Dionisius is informed otherwise, 
 My sute is to you, when you see time and place, 
 To ass wage the kinges anger, and to purchase his 
 
 grace : 
 
 In which dooyng, you shall not doo good to one onely, 
 But you shall further too*, and that fully. 
 
 * on] unto, 2d edit. 
 
 * i. e. " But you shall further two," and so the 2d. edition prints 
 it. C. \
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 213 
 
 Aristippus. My friend, in this case I can doo you no 
 
 pleasure. 
 
 Pithias. Syr, you serve in the court, as fame doth tell. 
 Aristippus. I am of the court, in deede, but none of 
 
 the counsell. 
 Pithias. As I heare, none is in greater favour with 
 
 the king, then you at this day. 
 Aristippus. The more in favour, the lesse I dare say. 
 Pithias. It is a courtiers prayse to helpe straingers 
 
 in miserie. 
 Aristippus. To help an other, and hurte myselfe, it 
 
 is an evyll point of courtesie. 
 Pithias. You shall not hurt yourselfe to speake for 
 
 the innocent. 
 Aristippus. He is not innocent whom the kinge 
 
 judgeth nocent. 
 Pithias. Why, sir, doo you thinke this matter paste 
 
 all remedie? 
 Aristippus. So farr past, that Dionisius hath sworne, 
 
 Damon to morow shall die. 
 Pithias. This word my trembling heart cutteth in 
 
 two. 
 
 Ah, sir, in this wofull case what wist I best to doo ? 
 Aristippus. Best to content yourselfe, when there is 
 
 no remedie, 
 
 He is well relived that forknoweth his miserie : 
 Yet if any comfort be, it resteth in Eubulus, 
 The chiefest counsellour about kinge Dionisius : 
 Which pitieth Damons case in this great extremitie, 
 Perswadyng the kynge from all kinde of crueltie. 
 P ithias. The mightie gods preserve you, for this 
 
 worde of comforte. 
 
 Takyng my leave of your goodnesse, I wyll now resorte 
 To Eubulus, that good counseller : 
 But harke ! methinke I heare a trompet blow. 
 
 Aristippus. The kyng is at hande, stande close in the 
 
 prease 41 : beware, if he know 
 
 You are friend to Damon, he wyll take you for a spie 
 also. 
 
 41 precise] crowd. See Note 29 to Tuncred and Giimunda, vol. II.
 
 214 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Farewel, I dare not be scene with you. 
 Here entreth Kyng DIONISIUS, EUBULUS the Conn- 
 seller, and GRONNO the Hangman. 
 Dionisius. Gronno, doo my commaundement : strike 
 
 of Damons irons by and by. 
 
 Then bryng hym foorth, I my selfe will see him exe- 
 cuted presently. 
 Gronno. O mightie king, your commaundement wyll 
 
 I doo spet'dely. 
 Dionisius. Eubulus, thou hast talked in vain, for 
 
 sure he shall die. 
 
 Shall I suffer my lyfe to stand in peryll of every spie ? 
 Eubulus. That he conspired against your person, his 
 
 accuser cannot say. 
 He only viewed your citie, and wyll you for that make 
 
 him away? 
 Dionisius. What he would have done the gesse is 
 
 great: he minded mee to hurt, 
 That came so siyly, to serch out the secret estate of my 
 
 courte. 
 Shall I sty 11 lye in feare ? no, no : I wyll cut off such 
 
 impes betime, 
 
 Least that to my farther daunger too hie they clime. 
 Eubulus. Yet have the mightie goddes immortall 
 
 fame assigned 
 
 To all worldly princes, whiche in mercie be inclined. 
 Dionisius. Let fame talke what she lyst, so I may 
 
 lyve in safetie. 
 Eubulus, The onely meane to that, is, to use 
 
 mercie. 
 
 Dionisius. A milde prince the people despiseth. 
 Eubulus. A cruell king-e the people hateth. 
 Dionisius. Let them hate me, so they feare mee. 
 Eubulus. That is not the way to lyve in safetie. 
 Dionisius. My sword and power shall purchase my 
 
 quietnesse. 
 Eubulus. That is sooner procured by mercy and 
 
 gentlenesse. 
 
 Dionisius. Dionisius ought to be feared. 
 Eubulus. Better for him to be wel beloved.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 215 
 
 Dionisius. Fortune maketh all thinges subject to my 
 
 power. 
 Eubulus. Beleeve her not, she is a light goddesse; 
 
 she can laugh and lowre. 
 
 Dionisus. A kinges prayse standeth in the reveng- 
 ing of his enemie. 
 Eubitl'ts. A greater prayse to winne him by clemen- 
 
 cie, 
 Dionisius. To suffer the wicked to live it is no 
 
 mercie. 
 
 Eubulus. To kill the innocent it is great cruel- 
 tie. 
 Dionisius. Is Damon innocent which so craftely 
 
 underminded Carisophus, 
 
 To understand what he could of kinge Dionisius? 
 Which survewed the haven, and eche bulwarcke in the 
 
 citie, 
 Where battrie might be layde, what way best to ap- 
 
 proche? shall I 
 Suffer such a one to live that worketh mee such dis- 
 
 pite ? 
 
 No, he shall die, then I am safe : a dead dogge can- 
 not bite. 
 Eubulus. But yet, O mightie king *, my dutie bind- 
 
 eth mee 
 To geve such counsell, as with your honour may best 
 
 agree : 
 
 The strongest pillers of princely dignitie, 
 I finde is 44 justice with mercy and prudent liberalise : 
 The one judgeth all thinges by upright equitie, 
 The other rewardeth the worthy, flying eche extremitie. 
 As to spare those which offend maliciously, 
 It may be called no justice, but extreame injurie : 
 So upon suspicion of eache thinge not well proved, 
 To put to death presently whom envious flattery ac- 
 cused, 
 
 * " king" is omitted in the first edition, and supplied by the 
 second. C. 
 
 43 is] this, 1st edit.
 
 216 DAMON AND PITH IAS. 
 
 It seemeth of tiranny ; and upon what fickle ground 
 
 al tirants doo stand, 
 Athenesand Lacedemon can teacheyou, yf it be rightly 
 
 scande. 
 
 And not only these citezens, but who curiously seekes 
 The whole histories of all the world, not only of Ro- 
 
 maines and Greekes, 
 
 Shall well perceyve of all tirauntes the ruinous fall, 
 Their state uncertaine, beloved of none, but hated of 
 
 all. 
 
 Of mercifull princes, to set out the passyng felycitie, 
 I neede not : ynough of that even these dayes do tes- 
 
 tifie. 
 They live devoid of feare, their sleapes are sound, they 
 
 dreed no enemie, 
 They are feared and loved : and why ? they rule with 
 
 justice and mercie, 
 Extendyng justice to such as wickedly from justice 
 
 have swarved, 
 Mercie unto those where opinion simplenesse have 
 
 mercie deserved. 
 
 Of lybertie nought I say, but only this thynge, 
 Lybertie upholdeth the state of a kynge : 
 Whose large bountifulnesse ought to fall to this issue, 
 To rewarde none but such as deserve it for vertue. 
 Whiche mercifull justice if you would folow, and pro- 
 vident liberalytie; 
 
 Neither the caterpillers of all courtes Et fruges consu- 
 mers nati, 
 Parasites with wealth puft up, should not looke so 
 
 hie ; 
 
 Nor yet, for this simple fact, poore Damon should die. 
 Dionisius, With payne mine eares have heard this 
 
 vayne talke of mercie. 
 
 I tell thee, feare and terrour defendeth kynges only: 
 Tyll he be gone whonae I suspect, how shall I lyve 
 
 quietly, 
 
 Whose memorie with chilling horror fils my beast day 
 and night violently ?
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 217 
 
 My dreadfuil dreames of him bereves my rest ; on bed 
 
 Hie 
 Shakyng and trembling, as one ready to yelde his 
 
 throate to Damon's sword. 
 This quakyng dread nothyng but Damon's bloud can 
 
 stay : 
 Better he die then I to be tormented with feare al- 
 
 way. 
 
 He shall die, though Eubulus consent not thereto : 
 It is lawfull for kinges, as they list, all thynges to 
 
 doo. 
 Here GRONNO bringeth in DAMON, and PITHIAS 
 
 ineeteth him by the way. 
 Pithias. Oh, my Damon ! 
 Damon. Oh, my Pithias ! seying death must parte 
 
 us, farewel for ever. 
 
 Pithias. Oh, Damon, oh, my sweete friende ! 
 Snap. Away from the prysoner ! what a prease have 
 
 we here? 
 Gronno. As you comrnaunded, O, mighty kinge, we 
 
 have brought Damon. 
 Dionisius. Then go to: make ready. I will not 
 
 stirre out of this place, 
 Til I see his head stroken off before my face. 
 
 Gronno. It shall be done, sir. Because your eyes 
 
 have made such a doo, 
 I wyl knock down this your lantern, and shut up your 
 
 shop-window too. 
 
 Damon. O, mightie king, where as no trueth my in- 
 nocent lyfe can save, 
 But that so greedily you thirst 43 my giltlesse bloud to 
 
 have, 
 Albeit (even in thought) I had not 44 ought against 
 
 your person : 
 
 Yet now I plead not for lyfe, ne wyll I crave your 
 pardon. 
 
 43 thirst] thrust, 1st edit. 
 
 44 (even in thought) I had not] (even for thought) for I had not ; 
 Both Editions. The alterations by Mr. Dodsley.
 
 218 DAMON AND PITHlAS. 
 
 But seyng in Greece, my countrey, where well I am 
 knowne, 
 
 I have worldly thinges fit for mine aliance, when I am 
 gone, 
 
 To dispose them or I die if I might obtaine lea- 
 sure, 
 
 I would account it (0 kyng) for a passyng great plea- 
 sure : 
 
 Not to prolonge my lyfe therby, for which I reken not 
 this, 
 
 But to set my thynges in a stay : and surely I wyll not 
 misse, 
 
 Upon the faith which all gentylmen ought to embrace, 
 
 To returne agayne at your time to appoynte, to 
 yeeld my body here in this place. 
 
 Graunt me (O kinge) such time to dispatch this in- 
 jurie, 
 
 And I wyll not fayle when you appoint, even here my 
 
 lyfe to pay 45 . 
 
 Dionisius. A pleasant request ! as though I could 
 trust him absent, 
 
 Whom in no wise I can not trust beinge present. 
 
 And yet though I sware the contrarie, doo that I re- 
 quire, 
 
 Geve mee a pledge for thy returne, and have thine 
 owne desire. 
 
 He is as nere now as he was before. 
 
 Damon. There is no surer nor greater pledge then 
 
 the faith of a gentleman. 
 
 Dionisius. It was wont to be, but otherwise now the 
 world doth stande ; 
 
 Therefore doo as I say, els presently yeeld thy necke 
 to the sword. 
 
 If I might with my honour I would recall my worde. 
 Pithias. Stand to your worde, O kinge, for kinges 
 ought nothing say, 
 
 But that they would performe in perfect deeds alway. 
 
 45 pay] yeelde speedily, 2d edit.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 219 
 
 A pledge you did require when Damon his sute did 
 
 meeve, 
 
 For which with heart and stretched handes most hum- 
 ble thankes I geve : 
 
 And that you may not say but, Damon hath a frinde, 
 That loves him better then his owne life, and will doo to 
 
 his ende, 
 
 Take mee O mightie king my lyfe I pawne 46 for his: 
 
 Strike off my head, if Damon hap at his day to misse. 
 
 Dionisius. What artthou, that chargest me with my 
 
 worde so boldly here ? 
 Pithias. I am Pithias, a Greeke borne, which holde 
 
 Damon my friend full deare. 
 Dionisius. To dere perhaps to hazard thy life for 
 
 him: what 47 fondnes moveth thee? 
 Pithias. No fouduesse at all, but perfect amitie. 
 Dionis/us. A mud kind of amitie ! advise thyself well : 
 
 if Damon fayle at his day, 
 Which shal be justly appointed, wilt thou die for him, 
 
 to mee his lyfe to pay? 
 Pithias. Most wyllyngly, O mightie king : if Damon 
 
 fay'.e let Pithias die. 
 DionisiKs. Thou seemest to trust his wordes, that 
 
 pawnest thy lyfe so franckly. 
 
 Pithiaa. What Damon saith, Pithias beleveth as- 
 suredly. 
 Dionisius. Take heede : for life worldly men breake 
 
 promise in many thinges. 
 Pithias. Though worldly men doo so, it never happes 
 
 amongst frindes. 
 Dionisius. What callest thou friendes, are they not 
 
 men ? is not this true ? 
 Piihias Men they be, but such men as love one 
 
 another onely for vertue. 
 Dionisius. For what vertue doste thou love this spie, 
 
 this Damon ? 
 Pithias. For that vertue which yet to you is unknowne. 
 
 46 I pawne] to pawne, 5M edit. 
 
 ^fondues] folly. Thus Spenser, in bis Sonnets, 
 " Fondness it were for any, being free, 
 " To covet fetters, though they golden be."
 
 220 PAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Dionisius. Eubulus, what shall I doo ? I would dis- 
 patch this Damon fayne, 
 But this foolish felow so chargeth mee, that I may not 
 
 call back my worde againe. 
 Eubulus. The reverent majestie of a king stands 
 
 chieflye in keeping his promise. 
 What you have sayde this whole court beareth wit- 
 
 nesse. 
 Save your honour what so ever you doo. 
 
 Dionisius. For saveing mine honour, I must forbeare 
 
 my wyll : go to. 
 
 Pithias, seeing thou tookest me at my word, take Da- 
 mon to thee : 
 For two monthes he is thine : unbinde him, I set him 
 
 free; 
 Which time once expired, yf he appeare not the next 
 
 day by noone, 
 Without further delay thou shalt lose thy lyfe, and that 
 
 full soone. 
 
 Whether he die by the way, or lie sick in his bead, 
 If he retourne not then, thou shalt either hange or lose 
 
 thy head. 
 Pithias. For this, O mightie kinge, I yeld immortall 
 
 thankes. Ojoyfullday! 
 Dionisius. Gronno, take him to thee : bind him, see 
 
 him kept in safetie : 
 
 If he escape, assure thyselfe for him thou shalt die. 
 Eubulus, let us departe, to talke of this straunge thinge 
 
 within. 
 
 Eubulus. I folowe. [Exeunt. 
 
 Gronno. Damon, thou servest the Gods well to day, 
 
 be thou of comfort. 
 
 As for you, sir, I thinke you will be hanged in sporte. 
 You heard what the king sayde; I must kepe you 
 
 safely : 
 
 By cocke, so I wyll, you shall rather hange then I. 
 Come on your way. 
 
 Pithias. My Damon, farewel; the Gods have thee 
 
 in kepeing. 
 
 Damon. Oh, my Pithias, my pleadge, farewell; I 
 parte from thee weeping.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 221 
 
 Butjoyfull at my day appoynted I wyll retourne agayne, 
 When I wyll deliver thee from all trouble and paine. 
 Stephano wyll I leave behinde me to wayte upon thee 
 
 in prison alone, 
 And I, whom fortune hath reserved to this miserie, wyll 
 
 walke home. 
 
 Ah, my Pithias, my pleadge, my life, my friend, farewel. 
 Pithias. Farewel, my Damon. 
 Damon. Loth I am to departe. Sith sobbes my 
 
 trembling tounge doth stay, 
 
 Oh, musicke, sound my dolefull playntes when I am 
 
 gone my way. ' [Exit Damon. 
 
 Gronno. I am glad he is gone, I had almost wept to. 
 
 Come, Pithias, 
 
 So God help me, I am sory for thy foolish case, 
 Wilt thou venter thy life for a man so fondly ? 
 
 Pithias. It is no venter : my friende is just, for whom 
 
 I desire to die. 
 Gronno. Here is a mad rnan ! I tell thee, I have a 
 
 wyfe whom I love well, 
 
 And if iche would die for her, chould ich weare in hell. 
 Wyltthou doo more for a man then I woulde for a woman? 
 Pithias, Yea, that I wyll. 
 Gronno. Then come on your wayes, you must to 
 
 prison haste. 
 I fcare you wyll repent this folly at laste. 
 
 Pithias. That shalt thou never see. But oh, musick, 
 
 as my Damon requested thee, 
 
 Sounde out thy dolefull tunes in this time of calamitie. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Here the regalles play a mourning songe, and DAMON 
 commeth in in mariners apparel and STEPHANO with 
 him. 
 Damon. Weepe no more, Stephano, this is but 
 
 destenie; 
 
 Had not this hapt, yet I know I am borne to die: 
 Where, or in what place, the Gods know alone, 
 To whose judgment myselfe I commit. Therefore leave 
 
 of thy mone, 
 
 And wayte upon Pithias in pryson till I retourne agayne, 
 In whom my joy, my care, and lyfe, doth only remayne.
 
 222 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Stephana. O, my cleare master, let me go with you ; 
 
 for my poore companie 
 
 Shal be some small comfort in this time of miserie. 
 Damon. Oh, Stephano, hast thou ben so longe with 
 
 me, 
 
 And yet doest not know the force of true amitie ? 
 I tel thee once agayne, my friend and I are but one, 
 Waite upon Pithias, and thinke thou art with Damon. 
 Whereof I may not now discourse, the time passeth 
 
 away; 
 
 The sooner I am gone, the shorter shall be my journay: 
 Therfore farewel, Stephano, commend me to my friende 
 
 Pithias, 
 
 Whom I trust to deliver in time out of this wofull case. 
 Stephano. Farewel, my deare master, since your 
 
 pleasure is so. 
 Oh, cruell happe ! oh, poore Stephano ! 
 
 cursed Carisophus, that first moved this tragidie! 
 But what a noyes is this? is all well within trow yee? 
 
 1 feare all be not well within, I wyll go see. 
 
 Come out you wesell : are you seekinge egs in Damon's 
 
 cheste ? 
 Come out, I say, wylt thou be packing? by cocke you 
 
 weare best. 
 Carisophus. How durst thou, villaine, to lay handes 
 
 on me? 
 
 Stephano. Out, sir knave, or I wyll sende yee. 
 Art thou not content to accuse Damon wrongfully, 
 But wilt thou robbe him also, and that openly ? 
 
 Carisophus. The kinge gave mee the spoyle : to take 
 
 myne owne wilt thou let me 48 ? 
 Stephano. Thine owne, villaine ! where is thine au- 
 thority ? 
 Carisophus. I am authoritie of myselfe ; dost thou 
 
 not know ? 
 Stephano Byr ladie, that is somewhat ; but have you 
 
 no more to show ? 
 Carisophus. What if I have not? 
 Stephano. Then for an earnest penie take this blow. 
 
 48 let me] hinder me.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 223 
 
 I shall bumbast you, you mocking knave; schil put 
 
 pro in my purse for this time. 
 Carisophus Jacke, give me my sword and targat. 
 Jacke. 1 cannot com to you, maister, this knave doth 
 
 me let. Hold, maister. 
 Stephana. Away, Jackenapes, els I wyll colpheg 
 
 you 49 by and by : 
 Ye slave, I wyll have my penyworthes of thee therefore 
 
 if I die. 
 Aboute, villayne. 
 
 Carisophus. O, citezens, helpe to defend me. 
 Stephana. Nay, they wyll rather helpe to hange thee. 
 Carisophus. Good felow, let us reason of the matter 
 
 quietly : beat me no more. 
 Stephana. Of this condition I wyll stay, if thou swere 
 
 as thou art an honest man, 
 Thou wylt say nothyng to the kinge of this when I am 
 
 gonne. 
 Carisophus. I wyll say nothyng, here is my hand, as 
 
 I am an honest man. 
 Stephana. Then say on thy minde : I have taken a 
 
 wise othe on him, have I not trow ye ? 
 To trust such a false knave upon his honestie ? 
 As he is an honest man (quoth you ?) he may bewray 
 
 all to the kinge, 
 And breke his oth for this never a whit But, my fra- 
 
 nion *, I tell you this one thing : 
 If you disclose this, I wyll devise such a way, 
 That whilst thou livest thou shalt remember this day. 
 Carisophus. You neede not devise for that, for this 
 
 day is printed in my memory, 
 I warrant you, I shall remember this beating till I die : 
 
 < 9 colpheg t/ou] I believe we should read, cnlaphiie, i. e. box or 
 buffet. Colaphlser Fr. See Cotgrave's Die*. S. 
 
 io But my franion] i. e. loose companion. So Spenser : 
 
 Might not be found a ranker/ranton. 
 Again, 
 
 A faire franion fit for such a pheere. S. 
 
 Again, in The 'First Part of King Edward IV. Sign. C. 5 : " Hees 
 " a franke franion, a merrie companion, and loves a wench well."
 
 224 DAMON AND TITHIAS. 
 
 But seeing of courtesie you have granted that we should 
 
 talke quietly, 
 Methinkes, in calling mee knave, you doo me muche 
 
 injurie. 
 
 Stephana. Why so, I pray thee hartely ? 
 Carisophus. Because I am the kinges man : keepes 
 
 the kinge any knaves ? 
 Stephano. He should not; but what he doth, it is 
 
 evident by thee, 
 
 And as farre as I can learne or understand, 
 There is none better able to keepe knaves in all the 
 
 land. 
 Carisophus. Oh, sir, I am a courtier : when courtiers 
 
 shall heare tell, 
 
 How you have used me, they will not take it well. 
 Stephano. Nay, all right courtiers will kenne me 
 
 thanke 11 ; and wot you why ? 
 Because I handled a counterfait courtier in his kinde so 
 
 finely. 
 What, syr ? all are not courtiers that have a counterfait 
 
 show; 
 In a trope of honest men, some knaves may stand, ye 
 
 know, 
 
 Such as by stelth creep in under the colour of honestie, 
 Which sorte under that cloke doo all kinde of villanie : 
 A right courtier is vertuous, gentill, and full of urbanitie, 
 Hurting no man, good to all, devoid of villanie : 
 But suche as thou art, fountaines of squirilitie, and 
 
 vayne delightes; 
 Though you hange by the courtes, you are but flatring 
 
 parasites ; 
 
 As well deserving the right name of courtesie, 
 As the coward knight the true praise of chevalrie. 
 I could say more, but I wyll not, for that I am your 
 
 well wilier. 
 In faith, Carisophus, you are no courtier, but a cater- 
 
 piller, 
 
 51 kenne me thanke] See Note 84 to Gammer Gurtun's Needle, 
 vol. II.
 
 DAMON AND PTTHIAS. 225 
 
 A sicophant, a parasite, a flatterer, and a knave. 
 Whether I wyll or no, these names you must have : 
 How well you deserve this, by yourdeedes it is knowne, 
 For that so unjustly thou hast accused poore Damon, 
 Whose wo full case the gods helpe alone, 
 
 CarisopJius. Syr, are you his servaunt, that you pitie 
 
 his case so? 
 Stephana. No bum troth, good man Grumbe, his 
 
 name is Strphano : 
 
 I am called Onapliets, if needs you wyll know. 
 The knave beginneth to sift mee, but 1 turne my name 
 
 in and out, 
 Cretiso cum Crttertse 5 ' 2 , to make him a loute. 
 
 Carisophns. What mumble you with your selfe, mas- 
 ter Onaphets? 
 Stephana. I am reckoning with my selfe how I may 
 
 pay my debtes. 
 Carisophns. You have paide me more then you did 
 
 owe me. 
 Stephana. Nay, upon a farther reckoning, I wyll pay 
 
 you more, if I know 
 Either you talke of that is done, or by your sicophan- 
 
 ticall envye, 
 You pricke forth Dionisius the sooner, that Damon may 
 
 die: 
 I wyll so pay thee, that thy bones shall rattcll in thy 
 
 skinne. 
 
 Remember what I have sayde; Onaphets is my name. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Carisophus. The sturdie knave is gone : the devyll 
 
 him take, 
 He hath made my head, shoulders, armes, sides, and 
 
 all to ake. 
 Thou horson villaine boy, why didst thou waite no 
 
 better ? 
 As he payde mee, so wyll I not die thy debtor. 
 
 85 Cretiso cum Cretense] Read K/3))7i|oo. Vide Erasni. Chiliad. 
 The Cretans were famous for double-dealing. Cretizare, however, is 
 a word euiploy'd by lexicographers, instead of menliri. S.
 
 226 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Jacke. Mayster, why doo you fight with me ? I am 
 
 not your match, you see : 
 Your durst not fight with him that is gone, and wyll 
 
 you wreke your anger on mee? 
 Carisophus. Thou villaine, by thee I have lost mine 
 
 honour, 
 Beaten with a codgell like a slave, a vacaboun, or a 
 
 lasie lubber, 
 And not geven one blow agayne. Hast thou handled 
 
 me well ? 
 Jacke. Maister I handled you not, but wtio did 
 
 handle you very handsornly you can tell. 
 Carisophus. Handsomly ! thou crake rope.* 
 Jacke. Yea, sir, very handsomily : I hold you a grote, 
 He handled you so handsornly, that he left not one 
 
 mote in your cote. 
 Carisophus. O I had firckt him trimly, thou villaine, 
 
 if thou hadst geven mee my sword. 
 Jacke. It is better as it is, maister, beleve me at a 
 
 worde. 
 
 If he had seeneyour weapon, he would have ben fierser, 
 And so perhaps beate you worse, I speake it with my 
 
 harte, 
 You were never at the dealing of fence blowes, but you 
 
 trad foure away for your part. 
 It is but your lucke, you are man good enough ; 
 But the wealche Onaphets was a vengeance knave, and 
 
 rough. 
 Maister, you were best goe home and rest in your 
 
 bedde, 
 Meethinkes your cappe waxeth to little for your 
 
 heade. 
 Carisophus. What ! doth my head swell ? 
 
 * Crack-rope was a common term of contempt in old plays. 
 " You codshed, you cracke-rope, you chattering pye." 
 
 Apius and Virginia, 1575. Sign. B. 
 Again in that very rare play, The Two Italian Gentlemen : 
 
 " Then let him be led through every streete in the town, 
 " That every erackrope may fliug rotten egs at the clown." 
 
 C.
 
 DAMON AND P1THIAS. 227 
 
 Jacke. Yea, as bigge as a codshed, and bleades too. 
 Carisophus. I am ashamed to show my face with this 
 
 hew. 
 Jacke. No shame at all ; men have bin beaten farre 
 
 better then you. 
 Carisopltus. I muste go to the chirurgian's ; what 
 
 shal I say when I am a dressyng? 
 Jacke. You may say truly you met with a knave's 
 
 blessing. [Exeunt. 
 
 Here entreth ARISTIPPUS. 
 Arktippus. By mine owne experience I prove true 
 
 that many men tell, 
 
 To live in courte not beloved, better be in hell : 
 What criyng out, what cursyng is there within of Cari- 
 sophus, 
 
 Because he accused Damon to kinge Dionisius: 
 Even now he came whining and crying into the courte 
 
 for the nonce, 
 Shewinge that one Onaphets had broke his knave's 
 
 sconce. 
 Which straunge name when they heard every man 
 
 laught hartely, 
 
 And I by myselfe scan'd his name secretly ; 
 For well I knewe it was some mad-heded chylde 
 That invented this name, that the log headed knave 
 
 might be begilde. 
 
 In tossing it often with myselfe two and fro, 
 I found out that Onaphets backward, spelled Stephano. 
 I smiled in my sieve, how to see by tournyng his name 
 
 he drest him, 
 And how for Damon his master's sake, with a wodden 
 
 cougell he blest him. 
 None pittied the knave, no man nor woman, but al 
 
 laught him to scorne. 
 To be thus hated of all, better unborne : 
 Farre better Aristippus hath provided, I trowe; 
 For in all the courte I am beloved both of hie andlowe. 
 I offende none, in so muche that wemen singe this to 
 
 my great prayse, 
 Omnisr Aristippum decuit color, et locus et res.
 
 228 J3AMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 But in all this joylytie one thinge maseth me, 
 The straungest thinge that ever was harde or knowne, 
 Is now happened in this court, by that Damon 
 Whom Carisophus accused; Damon is now at liberfie, 
 For whose return Pithias his friend lieth in prison, alas, 
 
 in great jeopardy. 
 To-morow is the day, which day by noone if Damon 
 
 returne not, ernestly 
 
 The kinge hath s'worne that Pithias should die; 
 Wherof Pithias hath intelligence very secretly, 
 Wishing that Damon may not returne tyll hehavepayde 
 His lyfe for his friend. Hath it ben heare to fore ever 
 
 sayde, 
 
 That any man for his friend would die sowillyngly? 
 O, noble friendship ! O perfect amitie ! 
 Thy force is heare seene, and that very perfectlie. 
 The king himselfe museth heare at, yet is he farre out 
 
 of square 
 That he trusteth nofie to come nere him, not his owne 
 
 doughters will he have 
 Unsercht to enter his chamber, which he hath made 
 
 barbars his beard to shave, 
 
 Not with knife or rasour, for all edge-tooles hee feares, 
 But with hote burning nutshales they senge of his 
 
 heares. 
 
 Was there ever man that lived in such miserye ? 
 Well, I wyll go in with a heavye and pensive hart too, 
 To think how Pithias, this poore gentleman, to-morow 
 
 shall die. [Exit. 
 
 Here entreth JACKE and WYLL. 
 Jacke. Wyll, by mine honesty, I wyll marre your 
 
 moncke's face, if you so fondly prate. 
 Wyll. Jacke, by my troth, seeing you are without 
 
 the courte gate, 
 
 If you play Jacke napes, in mocking my master, and 
 dispising my face, 
 
 Even here with a pantacle 6 * I wyll you disgrace; 
 
 51 Even here with a pantacle] I suppose he means to say a pan- 
 tofte, i. e. a slipper. Perhaps he begins his attack with a kick. S. 
 The 2d edition reads,
 
 DAMON AND PlTHIAS. 2^ 
 
 And though you have a farre better face then I, 
 Yet who is better man of us two these fistes shall trie, 
 Unlesse you leave your taunting. 
 
 Jacke. Thou began'st first ; didst thou not say even 
 
 no we, 
 
 That Carisophus, my master, was no man but a cowe, 
 In takinge so many blowes, and geve 54 never a blow 
 
 agayn ? 
 
 IVyll. I sayde so in deecle, he is but a tame ruffian, 
 That can svvere by his flaske and twiche-box *, and 
 
 God's precious lady, 
 
 And yet will be beaten with a faggot-stick. 
 These barking whelpes were never good biters, 
 Ne yet great crakers were ever great fighters : , 
 But seeinge you eg mee so much, I wyll somewhat 
 
 more resight ; 
 
 I say, Carisophus thy master is a flattring parisite ; 
 Gleniug away the sweet from the worthy in al the 
 
 courte. 
 What tragidie hath he moved of late? the devell take 
 
 him, he doth much hurt. 
 Jacke. I pray you, what is Aristippus thy master, is 
 
 not he a parisite to, 
 That with scoffing and jesting in the court makes so 
 
 much a doo? 
 Wyll. He is no parisite, but a pleasant gentleman 
 
 full of curtesie. 
 Thy master is a churlish loute, the heyre of a doung- 
 
 fork ; as voyde of honestie 
 As thou art of honour. 
 
 " Even heere with a faire pantacle I will you disgrace." 
 an epithet not found in the oldest copy, and hardly consistent with 
 the supposition that pantacle means pantofle. C. 
 
 44 S ne 1 g ave > 1st edit. 
 
 55 his flaske and twiche-box] More properly tau*h-box. While 
 match-locks, instead of fire-locks, to guns were used ; the tauch-l>ox, 
 at which the match was lighted, was part of the accoutrement of a 
 soldier. 
 
 " When she his flask and touch-box set on fire." 
 line of an Author, whose name I cannot at this time recollect. S.
 
 230 ' 'DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Jacke. Nay, yf you wyll needes be prating of my 
 
 master styll, 
 
 In faith I must coole you my frinde, dapper Wyll: 
 Take this at the beginning. 
 
 Wyll. Prayse well your winning, my pantacle is as 
 
 readie as yours. 
 
 Jacke. By the masse I wyll boxe you. 
 Wyll. By cocke, I wyll foxe you. 
 Jacke. Wyll, was I with you? 
 Wyll. Jacke, did I flye? 
 
 Jacke. Alas, pretie cockerell, you are to weake; 
 Wyll. In faith, dutting Duttrell 58 , you wyll crye 
 creake. 
 
 Here entreth SNAP. 
 Snap. Away, you cracke ropes, are you fighting at 
 
 the courte-gate? 
 
 And I take you heare agayne, I will swindge you both: 
 
 what! [Exit. 
 
 Jacke. I beshrew Snap the tipstaffe, that great 
 
 knaves hart, that hether did come, 
 Had he not ben, you had cryed ere this, Fictus, victa, 
 
 victum : 
 
 But seing wee have breathed ourselves, if ye list, 
 Let us agree like friends, and shake eche other by the 
 
 fist. 
 Wyll. Content am I, for 1 am not malicious ; but on 
 
 this condition, 
 That you talke no more so brode of my master^as here 
 
 you have done. 
 But who have wee heere ? is Cobex epi " comming 
 
 yonder ? 
 Jacke. Wyll, let us slipp aside and vewe him well. 
 
 56 Duttrell] A Dottrel is a silly kind of bird which imitates the 
 actions of the fowler, till at last he is taken. So, in Butler's Cha- 
 racter of a Fantastic. Remains, vol. II. p. 132. " He alters his 
 " gate with the times, and has not a motion of his body that {like a 
 " Dottrel) he does not borrow from somebody else." 
 
 See also Note 8 to The Old Couple, vol. X. 
 
 57 Cobex epi.] These I suppose to be words corrupted by the 
 ignorance of the transcriber. S.
 
 DAMON AND PITIIIAS. 231 
 
 Here entreth GRIM ME the Colier, whistling. 
 Grimme. What devell ! iche weenc the porters are 
 
 drunke, wil they not dup the gate to-day ? 
 Take in coles for the king's owne mouth : wyll no body 
 
 stur, I say? 
 
 Ich might have layne tway howers longer in my bedde, 
 Cha taried so longe here, that my teeth chatter in my 
 
 heade, 
 Jacke. Wyll, after our fallinge out wilt thou laugh 
 
 merily ? 
 
 WylL I mary, Jacke, I pray thee hartely. 
 Jacke. Then folow me, and hemme in a worde now 
 
 and then. 
 What braulynge knave is there at the courte-gate so 
 
 early ? 
 Wyll. It is some brainesicke villaine, I durst lay a 
 
 pennie. 
 
 Jacke. Was it you i8 , sir, that cryed so lowde I trow, 
 And bid us take in coles for the kinges mouth even 
 
 now ? 
 
 Grimme. 'Twas I, indeede. 
 Jacke. Why, sir, how dare you speake such petie 
 
 treason ? 
 Doth the king eate coles at any season ? 
 
 Grimme. Heere is a gaye world! boyes now settes 
 
 olde men to scoole. 
 I sayde wel enough : what, Jack sawce, thinkst cham 
 
 a foole ? 
 
 At bakehouse, buttrie hatch, kitchen, and seller, 
 Doo 69 they not say for the kinges mouth ? 
 Wyll. What then, goodman coliar? 
 Grimme. What then ! seing without coles thei cannot 
 
 finely dresse the kinges meat, 
 May I not say take in coles for the kinges mouth, 
 
 though co!cs he do not eate? 
 Jacke. James! Christe ! came ever from a (iolier an 
 
 aunswer so trimme ? 
 You are learned, are you not, father Grimme ? 
 
 58 Was it you'] It was you, 1 st edit. 
 9 Doo] Doth, 2d edit.
 
 232 . DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Grimme. Grimme is my name indeed, cham not 
 
 learned, and yet the king's colier : 
 This vortie winter cha bin to the king a serviter, 
 Though I be not learned, yet cha mother witte enough 
 
 whole and some. 
 Wyll. So it seemes, you have so much mother wit, 
 
 that you lacke your father's wisdome. 
 Grimme. Masse, chain well beset, here's a trimme 
 
 cast of Murlons fio . 
 What be you, my pretie cockerels, that aske me these 
 
 questions ? 
 
 Jacke. Good faith, maister Grimme 61 , if such Mar- 
 lines on your pouch may light, 
 Thei are so quick of winge, that quickly they can carie 
 
 it out of your sight; 
 And though we are cockerels now, we shall have spurs 
 
 one day, 
 
 And shall be able perhaps to make you a capon : 
 But to tell you the trouth, we are the porter's men, 
 
 which early and late 
 
 Wayteon such gentlemen as you, to open the court gate. 
 Grimme. Are ye servants then? 
 Wyll. Yea, sir ; are we not pretie men ? 
 (jrimme. Pretie men (quoth you)? nay, you are 
 stronge men, els you coulde not beare these 
 britches. 
 
 Wyll. Are these such * great hose ? in faith, good- 
 man colier, you see with your nose : 
 
 68 a trimme cast of Murhms] i. e. a cast of that species of hawks 
 that were called Merlins. S. 
 
 He calls them Murlons~on account of their size. Merlins were 
 the smallest species of hawks. Turberville says, " These merlyns 
 are very much like the hatgart falcon in plume, in scare of the 
 foote, in beake and talons. So as there seemeth to be no oddes 
 or difference at al betwixt them save only in the bignesse, for she 
 hath like demeanure, like plume, and very like conditions to the 
 falcon, and in hir kind is of like courage, and therefore must be 
 kept as choycely and as daintily as the falcon." The merlinvi&s 
 chiefly used to fly at small birds ; and Latham says, it was particu- 
 larly appropriated to the service of ladies. 
 61 maister Grimme] father Grimme, 2d edit. 
 * " Such," adopted into the original text from the 2d edit. C.
 
 DAMON AND PITTIIAS. 233 
 
 By myne honestie, I have but one lining in one hose, 
 
 but seven els of roug. 
 Grimmer. This is but a little, yet it makes thee 
 
 seeme a great bugge. 
 Jacke. How say you, goodman colier, can you findc 
 
 any fault here 62 ? 
 Grimme. Nay, you should finde faught, mary here's 
 
 trim geare ! 
 Alas, little knave, dost not sweat? thou goest with 
 
 great payne, 
 These arc no hose, but water bougets, I tell thee 
 
 playne ; 
 
 Good for none but suche as have no buttockes. 
 Dyd you ever see two suche little Robin ruddockes c$ 
 So laden with breeches ? chill say no more leste I 
 
 offende. 
 Who invented these monsters 84 first, did it to a gostly 
 
 ende, 
 
 To have a male readie to put in other folkes stuffe, 
 Wee see this evident by dayly prooffe. 
 One preached of late not farre hence, in no pulpet, but 
 
 in a wayne carte, 
 
 That spake enough of this ; but for my parte, 
 Chil say no more: your owne necessitie 
 In the end wyll force you to finde some remedy. 
 
 Jacke. Wyl 65 , holde this railinge knave with a talke 
 
 when I am gone : 
 
 I wyll fetch him his filling ale for his good sermone. 
 Wyll. Goe thy way, father Grimme, gayly well you 
 
 doo say, 
 It is but young mens folly, that liste to playe, 
 
 6 ~ can you Jinde any fault lieret] what fault can you see heere ? 
 2d edit. ' 
 
 63 Robin nuMpr/.is,] i. e. Robin red breasts. Shakspeare uses 
 ruddock for rod breast in Cymbeline. S. 
 
 Again, JS' ash's / enlen Stuff, 1599: " he eft soons denned 
 " unto me, that the red hen-ing was this old tickle cob, or magister 
 " fac totum, that brought in the red ruddocks, and the grummel 
 " seed as thick as oatmeal, and made Yarmouth for Argent to put 
 " down the city of Argentine." 
 
 *4 monsters] hose at, 2d edit. 
 
 6 Wyl] Well, 1st edit.
 
 234 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 And maske a whyle in the net of their owne devise ; 
 When they come to your age they wyll be wyse. 
 
 Grimme, Bum troth, but few such roysters come to 
 
 my yeares at this day; 
 They be cut off betimes, or they have gone halfe their 
 
 journey : 
 I wyll not tell why : let them gesse that can, I meane 
 
 somewhat thereby. 
 
 Enter JACKE with a pot ofwyne, and a cup to drinke on. 
 Jacke. Father Grimme, because you are sturring so 
 
 early, 
 
 I have brought you a bowle of wyne to make you mery. 
 Grimme. Wyne, mary ! this is welcome to colliers, 
 
 chyl swapt off by and by : 
 
 Chwas sturringe so early that my very soule is drye. 
 Jacke. This is stoutly done: wyll -you have it 
 
 warmed, father Grimme ? 
 Grimme. No, it is warme enough ; it is very lousious 
 
 and trimme. 
 'Tis musselden 66 ich weene ; of fellowship let me have 
 
 another spurt, 
 
 Ich can drink^as easly now, as if I sate in my shurte. 
 Jacke. By cocke, and you shall have it ; but I wyll 
 
 beginne, and that anone, 
 Jc, bois a vous mon compagnon 6? . 
 
 Grimme. J'ai vous pleige', petit Zawne 68 . 
 
 Jacke. Can you speake French ? here is a trimme 
 
 colier, by this day ! 
 
 Grimme. What man ! ich learned this when ich was 
 a souldier; 
 
 66 Tis musselden.'] An intended mistake for muscadine. S. 
 
 47 Je bois a vous mon compagnon} Jebit avow mon companion. 
 Both 4tos. S. 
 
 68 J'ai vous pleige petit Zawne] lhar vow pleadge, pety Zawne. 
 Both 4tos. I know not what is meant by Zawne. 
 
 Perhaps these lines are a translation of some song or'catch, dia- 
 logue wise, between Robin Hood and Little John. 
 L. J. 1 drink to you, my companion. 
 R. H. And I have pledged you, Little John. 
 
 Zawne, must then be received as a mispronunciation or corrup- 
 tion, as the reader pleases, of John, S.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 235 
 
 When ich was a lusty fellow, and could yarke a Avhip 
 
 trimly, 
 Better then these boy coliers, that come to the courre 
 
 daily : 
 When there were 69 not so many captious fellowes as 
 
 now, 
 That would toruppe men for every trifell, I wot not 
 
 how : 
 As there was one Damon, not longe since taken for a 
 
 spie; 
 
 How justly I know not, but he was condemned to die. 
 Wyll. This wine hath warmed him, this comes well 
 
 to passe, 
 
 We shall know all now, for in Vino verltas. 
 Father Grimme, who accused this Damon to kinge 
 
 Dionisius ? 
 Grimme. A vengeaunce take him ! 'twas a gentleman, 
 
 one maister Crowsphus. 
 Wyll. Crowsphus ! you clippe the kinge's language, 
 
 you would have said Carisophus ; 
 But I perceive now, either the wincle is at the south, 
 Or els your lounge cleaveth to the roofe of your 
 
 mouth. 
 Grmme. A muvian take thik wine, it so intoxicate 
 
 my braine, 
 
 That to be hanged by and by, I cannot speake plaine. 
 Jacke. You speake knavishly playne, seinge my mas- 
 ter you doo mocke : 
 
 In faith ere you go, I will make you a lobbe cocke. 
 Father Grimme, what say they of this Damon abrode? 
 Grimme. All men are sorie for him, so helpe me 
 
 God. 
 
 The say a false knave cused him to the king wrong- 
 fully ; 
 
 And he is gone, and should be here to morow to die, 
 Or els his fellow which is in prison his rowme shall 
 
 supplie. 
 
 w were] was, 2cl edit.
 
 236 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Chil not be his halfe for vortie shillinges I tell you 
 
 playne, 
 I thinke Damon be too wise to returne agayne. 
 
 Wyll. Wyll no man speake for them in this wofull 
 
 case? 
 Grimme. No chili warrant you, one maister Stippus 
 
 is in place, 
 
 Where he may doo good, but he frames himselfe so, 
 Whatsoever Dionisius wylleth, to that he wyll not say 
 
 no: 
 
 Tis a subtill vox, he will not tread on thornes for none, 
 A mery harecoppe 70 'tis, and a pleasant companion ; 
 A right courtier, and can provide for one. 
 
 Jacke. Wyll, howe lyke you this geare ? your master 
 
 Aiistippus also, 
 
 At this colier's hande hath had a bloe. 
 But in faith, father Grimme, cannot ye coliers 
 Provide for your selves far better then courtiers ? 
 
 Grimme. Yes, I trowe : blacke coliers go in threade- 
 
 bare cotes, 
 Yet so provide they, that they have the faire white 
 
 groates. 
 Ich may say in counsell, though all day I moyle in 
 
 dourte, 
 
 Chil not change lives with any in Dionisius' courier 
 For though their apparell be never so fine, 
 Yet sure their credit is farre worse then mine. 
 And by cocke I may say, for all their hie lookes, 
 I knowe some stickes full deepe in marchants bookes : 
 And deeper will fall in, as fame me telles, 
 As long as insteede of money they take up haukes hoods 
 
 and belles 71 : 
 
 w liarecoppe] Cappe, in Chaucer, is used for the top of any thing, 
 and here seems intended to signify the head, or, as the common 
 phrase is, a hare-brained fellow. 
 
 Hare coppe, may be a corruption of heark up, a phrase in use among 
 our ancient sportsmen. Hare cup is likewise one of the names of 
 the spring-flower called the hare bell. S. 
 
 71 insteede of money they take up haukct hoods and belles] See Note 
 49 to The White Devil, vol. VI.
 
 PAMON AND PITIITAS. 237 
 
 Wherby they fall into a swelling disease, which coliers 
 
 do not know ; 
 Tath n mad name it is called, ich weene, Centum pro 
 
 cento. 
 
 Some other in courtes make others laugh merily, 
 When they wayle and lament their owne estate secretly. 
 Friendship is dead in courte, hipocrisie doth raigne, 
 Who is in favour now, to morow is out agayne : 
 The state is so uncertaine, that I, by my wyll, 
 Will never be courtier, but a colier styll. 
 
 Wyll. It seemeth that coliers have a very 72 trym life. 
 Grimme. Coliers get money styll : tell me of trouth, 
 Is not that a trim life now, as the world goeth ? 
 All day though I toyle with mayne and might, 
 With mony in my pouche I come home mery at night, 
 And sit downe, in my chayre by my wyfe faire Alison, 
 And tourne a crabbe in the fire, as mery as pope 
 
 John . 
 Jacke. That pope was a merry fellow, of whome 
 
 folke talke so much. 
 Grimme. H'ad to be merry withal, h'ad goulde 
 
 enough in his hutch. 
 Jacke. Can gould make men mery? they say, who 
 
 can singe so mery a note, 
 As he that is not able to change a grote ? 
 
 Grimme. Who singes in that case, singes never in 
 
 tune. I know for my parte, 
 
 That a heavy pouch with goulde makes a light harte : 
 Of which I have provided for a deare yeare good store, 
 And these benters 74 , I trowe, shall anone get me more. 
 Wyll. By serving the courte with coles, you gaynde 
 
 all this money. 
 Grimme. By the court onely, I assure yee. 
 
 TJ very] merie, 2nd edit. 
 
 ' 3 And tourne a crabbe in thejire, as mery a$ Pope John] See Note 
 22 to Gammer Gurton's Needle vol. II. 
 
 T4 And these bentert] Benne is the French word for a sack to cnrry 
 coals. See Cotgrnve. He may, however mean debentures, \. e. 
 notes by which a debt is claimed. Jack mentions debentures ai'- 
 tftrwards. S.
 
 238 DAMOtf AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Jacke. After what sorte, I pray thee tell raee ? 
 Grimme. Nay, ther bate an ace (quod Boulton ") I 
 
 can weare a horne 'and blow it not. 
 Jacke. Byr ladie, the wiser man. 
 Grimme, Shall I tell you by what slite I got all this 
 
 money ? 
 Then ich weare a noddy indeede ; no, no, I warreant 
 
 Y e - 
 
 Yet in few words I tell you this one thinge, 
 He is a very foole that cannot gayne by the kinge. 
 Wyll. Well sayde, father Grimme: you are a wilie 
 
 colier, and a brave, 
 
 I see now there is no knave like to the olde knave. 
 Grimme. Suche knaves have mony, when courtiers 
 
 have none. 
 
 But tell me, is it true that abrode is blowne ? 
 Jacke. What is that? 
 Grimme. Hath the kinge made those fayre damsels 
 
 his daughters. 
 
 To be come now fine and trimme barbers ? 
 Jacke. Yea truly, to his owne person. 
 Grimme. Good fellowes beleve mee, as the case now 
 
 standes, 
 I would geve one sacke of coles to be washt at their 
 
 handes, 
 If ich came so neare them, for my wyt chould not geve 
 
 three chippes, 
 If ich could not steale one swap at their lippes. ^ ^ 
 
 75 Nay, ther bate an ace (quoth Boulton)] Bate me an ace, quoth 
 Bolton, 'is among the Proverbs published by Mr. Ray. That gen- 
 tleman adds, " Who this Bolton was I know not, neither is it worth 
 ' enquiring-. One of this name might happen to say, Bate me an 
 ' ace, and, for the coincidence of the first letters of the two words 
 ' Bate and Bolton, k grew to be a proverb. We have many of the 
 ' like original ; as, v.g. Sup, Simon, &c. Stay, quoth Stringer, &c. 
 ' There goes a story of Queen Elizabeth, that being presented 
 ' with a Collection of English Proverbs, and told by the Author 
 ' that it contained all the English Proverbs, nay, replied she, Bate 
 ' me an ace quoth Bolton ; which Proverb being instantlj looked for, 
 ' happened to be wanting in his Collection." Ray's Proverbs, 
 j. 177.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 239 
 
 Jacke. Wyll, this knave is drunke, let us dressehira; 
 Let us rifFell him so, that he have not one pennie to 
 
 blesse him, 
 And steale away his debenters too. 
 
 Wyll. Content: invent the way, and I am readie. 
 Jacke. Faith, and I wyll make him a noddie. 
 Father Grimme, if you praie mee wel 76 , I wyll Avash 
 
 you and shave you too, 
 
 Even after the same fashion as the kinges daughters doo : 
 In all poyntes as they handle Dionisius, I wyll dresse 
 
 you trim and fine, 
 Grimme. Chuld vaine learne that: come on then, 
 
 chil geve thee a whol pint of wine 
 At taverne for thy labour, when cha mony for my ben- 
 
 ters heare. 
 Here Wfafetcheth a barber's bason, a pot with water, 
 
 a rayftour, and clothes, and a payre of spectacles. 
 Jacke. Come, mine owne father Grimme, sit 
 
 downe. 
 Grimme. Masse, to beginne withall, heare is a trimme 
 
 chayre, 
 Jacke. What man, I wyll use you like a prince. 
 
 Sir boy, fetche me my geare. 
 Wyll. Here, syr. 
 
 Jacke. Holde up, father Grimme. 
 Grimme. Me seeme my head doth swimme. 
 Jacke. My costly perfumes make that. Away with 
 
 this, sir boy : be quicke. 
 Aloyse, aloyse 77 , how pretie it is! is not here a good 
 
 face? 
 
 A fine oules eyes, a mouth lyke an oven. 
 Father, you have good butter teeth, full seene ; 
 You weare weaned, els you would have ben a great 
 
 calfe. 
 
 Ah trimme lippes to sweepe a manger ! here is a chinne, 
 As soft as the hoofe of an horse. 
 
 76 prate mee wel] In the former Edition, Mr. Dodsley had altered 
 this to pay mee wel. 
 
 77 Aloyse, aloyse] Almie, FT. is to allow, to approve, to praise. I 
 know of no other word that resembles that in- the text. Alosed, in 
 Chaucer, is praised. S.
 
 240 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Grimme. Doth the kinges daughters rubbe so harde ? 
 Jacke. Holde your head straite, man, els, all wyll t>e 
 
 marde. 
 
 Byr ladie, you are of good complexion, 
 A right Oroyden sanguine*, beshrew mee. 
 Hould up, father Grimme. Wyll, can you besturre ye? 
 Grimme. Me thinks, after a marvelous fashion you 
 
 do besmoure me. 
 Jacke. It is with unguentum of Daucus Maucus, that 
 
 is very costly : 
 
 I geue not this washinge ball to every body. 
 After you have ben drest so finely at my hande, 
 You may kisse any ladies lippes within this lande. 
 A, you are trimly washt ! how say you, is not this trimm 
 
 water ? 
 Grimme. It may be holsome, but it is vengeaunce 
 
 sower. 
 Jacke. It scours the better. Syr boy, geve me my 
 
 raysour. 
 
 Wyll. Here at hand, syr.- 
 Grimme. Gods aymes ! 'tis a chopping knyfe, 'tis no 
 
 raysour. 
 
 Jacke. It is a raysour, and that a very good one ; 
 It came lately from Palermo 78 , it cost mee twenty 
 
 crownes alone. 
 Your eyes dassell after your washing, these spectacles - 
 
 put on : 
 
 Now vew this raysour, tell mee, is it not a good one? 
 Grimme. They be gay barhikels, yet I see never the 
 
 better. 
 
 Jacke. In deede they be a young sight, and that is 
 the matter; 
 
 * From the manner in which this expression is used hy Sir John 
 Harrington, in The Anatnmie of the Metamorphosis of Ajax, Sig. L. 7. 
 it seems as though it was intended for a sallow hue. " Both of a 
 " complexion inclining to the oriental colour of a Croyden sanguine.'' 
 
 78 It come lately from PuL rmd] The 4tos read Pallarrime. The razors 
 of Palermo were anciently famous. They are mentioned in more 
 than one of our old Plays, and particularly in The Wounds of Civill 
 War by Thomas Lodge," 159'i, vol. VIII. 83. " Neighbour sharpen 
 " the edge tole of your wits upon the whetsone of indiscretion, that 
 " your wordes may shave like the rasers of Palermo." S.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 241 
 
 But I warrant you, this raysour is very easic. 
 
 Grimme. Go too then ; since you begonne, doo as 
 
 please ye. 
 
 Jacke. Holde up, father Grimme. 
 Grimme. O your raysour doth hurt my lippe. 
 Jacke. No, it scrapeth of a pimpell to ease you of the 
 
 pippe. 
 
 I have done now, how say you? are you not well? 
 Grimme. Cham lighter then ich was, the truth to tell. 
 Jacke. Will you singe after your shavinge? 
 Grimme. Mas, content; but chill be polde first or I 
 
 singe. 
 Jacke. Nay that shall not neede, you are pould neare 
 
 enough for this time. 
 Grimme. Go too then lustyly, I will singe in my man's 
 
 voyce : 
 Chave a troublinge base busse. 
 
 Jacke. You are lyke to beare the bobbe, for we wyll 
 
 geve it : 
 
 Set out your bussyng base, and wee wyll quiddell 
 upon it. 
 
 GRIMME singed Busse. 
 Jacke singes. Too nidden, and too nidden. 
 Wyll singes. Too nidden, and toodle toodle doo 
 
 nidden ; 
 Is not Grimme the colier most finely shaven? 
 
 Grimme. Why, my fellowes, thinke iche am a cowe, 
 
 that you make such toying? 
 Jacke. Nay by'r ladie, you are no cow, by your 
 
 singing ; 
 Yet your wife told me you were an oxe. 
 
 Grimme. Did she so? 'tis a pestens quene 79 , she is 
 
 full of such mockes. 
 
 But go to, let us singe out our songe merely. 
 The songe at the shaving of the colier. 
 Jacke. Suche barbers, God send you at all times of 
 
 neede. 
 
 Wyll. That can dress eyou finely, and make such quicke 
 speede. 
 
 79 pestens qwne] He means a pestilent quean. S. 
 VOL. i. R
 
 242 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Jacke. Your face like an income now shineth so gay 
 Wyll. That I with your nostrels of force must needes 
 
 play, 
 With too nidden, and too nidden. 
 
 Jacke. With too nidden, and todle todle doo nidden. 
 Is not Grimme the colier most finely shaven ? 
 
 Wyll. With shaving you shine lyke a pestle of 
 
 porke" . 
 Jacke. Here is the trimmest hogges-flesh from London 
 
 to Yorke. 
 
 Wyll. It would be trimme baken to hange up a while. 
 Jacke. To play with this hogline, of force I must 
 
 sinyte, 
 
 With too nidden, and too nidden. 
 Wyll. With too nidden, and todle, &c. 
 Grimme. Your shaving doth please me, I am now your 
 
 debter. 
 Wyll. Your wife now will busse you, because you are 
 
 sweater. 
 Grimme. Neare would I be poled, as neere as cham 
 
 shaven. 
 Wyll. Then out of your jerkin needes must you be 
 
 shaken. 
 With too nidden, nnd too nidden, &c. 
 
 Grimme. It is a trimme thing to be washt in the 
 
 courte. 
 Wyll. Their handes are so fine, that they never doo 
 
 hitrte. 
 
 Grimme. Methinke ich am lighter then ever ich was. 
 Wyll. Our shaveinge in the courte hath brought this 
 
 to passe. 
 With too nidden, and too nidden. 
 
 Jacke. With too nidden, and todle todle doo nidden. 
 Is not Grimme the colier most finely " shaven ? [Finis. 
 Grimme. This is trimly done : now chil pitche my 
 
 coles not farre hence, 
 And then at the taverne chil bestowe whole tway pence. 
 
 80 a pestle of porke] i. e. gammon of bacon. Minshieu. 
 Jinely\ trimly, 2d edit.
 
 DAMON AND PITIIIAS. 243 
 
 Jacke. Farewel cocke. Before the cblier againe doo 
 
 us seeke, 
 Let us into the courte to parte the spoyle, share and 
 
 share like. 
 Wyll. Away then. [Exeunt. 
 
 Here entreth GRIMM E. 
 
 Grimme. Out alas, where shall I make my mone ? 
 My pouche, my benters, and all is gone ! 
 Wher is that villayne that dyd me shave? 
 Hath robbed me, alas ! of all that I have. 
 
 Here entreth SNAP. 
 
 Snap. Who crieth so at the courte gate ? 
 Grimme. I, the poore colier, that was robbed of late. 
 Snap. Who robbed thee? 
 
 Grimme. Twoo of the porters men that dyd shave me. 
 Snap. Why, the porters men are no barbers. 
 Grimme. A vengance take them, they are quicke 
 
 carvers. 
 
 Snap. What stature weare they of? 
 Grimme. As little dapper knaves, as they trimly 
 
 could scoffe. 
 Snap. They were lackeyes, as neare as I can gesse 
 
 them. 
 Grimme. Such lackies make mee lacke; an halter 
 
 beswinge them : 
 Cham undon, they have my benters too. 
 
 Snap. Doest thou know them, if thou seest them ? 
 
 Grimme. Yea, that I doo. 
 
 Snap. Then come with me, we wyll finde them out, 
 
 and that quickly. 
 Grimme. I folow, mast tipstaffe ; they be in the 
 
 courte it is likely. 
 Snap. Then crie no more, come away. [Exeunt. 
 
 Here entreth CARISOPHDS and ARISTIPPUS. 
 If ever you wyll shew your friendship, now is the time, 
 Seing the king is displeased with me, of my parte 
 
 without any crime. 
 Aristippus. It should appeare, it comes of some evell 
 
 behaviour. 
 That you so sodenly are cast out of favour.
 
 244 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Carisophus. Nothing have I done but this ; in talks 
 
 I overthwarted Eubulus, 
 
 When he lamented Pithias' case to kinge Dionisius. 
 Which to morrow shall die, but for that false knave 
 
 Damon, 
 
 He hath left his friend in the briers, and now is gone. 
 Wee grew so hot in talke, that Eubulus protested 
 
 playnely, 
 
 Dionisius 8 * held his eare open to parasiticall flatterie. 
 And now in the kinges eare like a bell he ringes, 
 Crying, that flatterers have ben the destroyers of 
 
 kinges. 
 Which talke in Dionisius' harte hath made so deepe 
 
 impression, 
 
 That he trusteth me not, as heretofore, in no condition : 
 And some wordes brake from him, as though that hee 
 Began to suspect my trouth and honestie, 
 Which you of friendship I know wyll defend, how so 
 
 ever the world goeth : 
 
 My frind, for my honestie will you not take an othe ? 
 Aristippus. To sweare for your honestie, I should lose 
 
 mine owne. 
 Carisophus. Should you so indeede? I would that 
 
 were knowne. 
 
 Is your voyde friendship come thus to passe? 
 Aristippus. I folow the proverbe: Amicus usque ad 
 
 auras. 
 
 Carisophus. Where can you say I ever lost mine 
 honestie ? 
 
 88 Dionisius.] Both the 4tos read Whiche. The alteration by 
 Mr. Dodsley. > 
 
 Perhaps no alteration at all was necessary ; for in our old writers, 
 which and who are sometimes used indifferently : at all events, it 
 would have been doing less violence to the text (especially taking 
 the measure into consideration) if merely who had been substituted 
 fjr which, as it stands in the old copies, and not Dionisius, as Mr. 
 Dodsley conjectured, and Mr. Reed allowed it to remain. The 
 sense of the passage is clearly this, " that Eubulus protested plainly' 
 " who it was that held his ear open to parasitical flattery," viz. 
 Dionisius whom Carisophus intends to be understood rather than 
 expressly named. C.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Aristippus. You never lost it, for you never had it, 
 
 as farre as I know. 
 Carisophus. Say you so, friend Aristippus, whom I 
 
 trust so well ? 
 Aristippus. Because you trust me, to you the truth I 
 
 tell. 
 Carisophus. Wyll you not stretche one poynt, to 
 
 bring mee in favour agayne ? 
 Aristippus. I love no stretching ; so I may breede 
 
 myne owne payne. 
 Carisophus. A friende ought to shonne no payne, to 
 
 stand his friend in stead. 
 Aristippus. Where true friendship is, it is so in very 
 
 deede. 
 Carisophus. Why, sir, hath not the chaine of true 
 
 frindship linked us two together? 
 Aristippus. The chiefest linke, lacked therof, it must 
 
 needs desever. 
 Carisophus. What linke is that? faine would I 
 
 know. 
 
 Aristippus. Honestie. 
 Carisophus. Doth honestie knit the perfect knot in 
 
 true friendship ? 
 Aristippus. Yea, truely, and that knot so knit wyll 
 
 never slippe. 
 Carisophus. Belike then, there is no frindship bat 
 
 betweene honest men. 
 Aristippus. Betwene the honest only; for, Amicitia 
 
 inter bonos 8S , saith a learned man. 
 Carisophus. Yet evell men use frindship in things 
 
 unhonest, wher fancy doth serve. 
 Aristippus. That is no frindship, but a lewde likeing ; 
 
 it lastes but a while. 
 Carisophus. What is the perfectst frindship among 
 
 men that ever grew ? 
 Aristippus. Where men love one another, not for 
 
 profit, but for vertue. 
 
 M /wins] bonus. Both 4tos.
 
 246 - DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Carisophus. Are such frindes both alike in joy and 
 
 also in smarte? 
 Aristippus. They must needs; for in two bodies they 
 
 have but one harte 
 Carisoplnis. Friend Aristippus, deceave rne not with 
 
 sophistrie : 
 Is there no perfect f'rindship, but where is veriue and 
 
 honestie ? 
 
 Aristippus. What a devell then ment Carisophus 
 Tojoyne in frindship with fine Aristippus? 
 In whom is as much vertue, trueth and honestie, 
 As there are true fethers in the three Craines of the 
 
 Vintree 84 : 
 Yet their 85 fethers have the shadow of lively fethers, 
 
 the truth to scan, 
 
 But Carisophus hath not the shadowe of an honest man. 
 To be playne, because I know thy villany, 
 In abusinge Dionisius to many mens injury, 
 Under the cloke of frindship I playd with his head, 
 And sought meanes how thou with thine owne fancy 
 
 might be lead. 
 
 My frindship thou soughtest for thine owne commoditie, 
 As worldly men doo, by profile measuring amitie : 
 Which I perceaving, to the lyke myselfe I framed, 
 Wherein, I know, of the wise I shall not be blamed : 
 If you ask me, Quare ? I answer, Quia prudantis est mul- 
 
 tum dissimulare. 
 
 To speake more playner, as the proverb doth go, f 
 In faith Carisophus, cum Cretense cretiso. 
 Yet a perfect frinde I shew myselfe to thee in one thing, 
 I doo not dissemble, now I say I wyll not speake for 
 
 thee to the king : 
 
 8| the three Craines of the Vintree] Sometimes called New Queen 
 Street, where there seems to have been the sign of the three 
 Cranes.. Ben Jonson mentions this place in The Devil is an Ass, 
 A. l.S. 1. 
 
 " From thence shoot the bridge child, to the Cranes if the Vintry, 
 " And see there the gimblets how they make their entry !" 
 
 Stow says it was a place of some account for the Costermongers 
 who had ware-houses there ; and it appears from Dekkar's Belrnun 
 of London, Sign. E 2, that the beggars of his time called one of 
 their places of rendezvous by this name. 
 
 8S their] these, 1st edit. 'i
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 247 
 
 Therfore sinke in thy sorrow, I doo not deceave thee, 
 A false knave I found thee, a false knave I leave thee. 
 
 [Exit.. 
 Carisophus. He is gone ! is this frindship to leave 
 
 his friend in the plaine fielde ? 
 Well, I see now I myselfe have beguyeld, 
 In matching with that false fox in amitie, 
 Which hath me used to his ovvne commoditie: 
 Which seeing me in distresse, unfainedly goes his 
 
 wayes. 
 Loe this is the perfect frindship among men now a 
 
 daies ; 
 
 Which kinde of frindship toward him I used secretly ; 
 And he with me the like hath requited me craftly. 
 It is the Gods judgment, I see it playnely, 
 For all the worlde may know, Incidi in foveam <juam 
 
 foci. 
 Well, I must content my selfe, none other helpe I 
 
 knowe, 
 
 Until a merier gale of winde may happe to blowe. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Enter EUBULUS. 
 Eubulus. Who deals with kinges in matters of great 
 
 waight, 
 
 When froward wyll doth beare the chefest sway, 
 Must yeld ot force ; there neede no subtile sleight, 
 Ne paynted 86 speach the matter to convay. 
 No prayer can move when kindled is the ire, 
 The more ye quench, the more increased is the fire. 
 This thinge I prove in Pithias' woful case, 
 Whose heavy hap with teares I doo lament: 
 The day is come, when he in Damon's place, 
 Must lose his life : the time is fully spent. 
 Nought can my words now with the kingprevaile, 
 Against the wind and strivinge stream s? I sayle: 
 For die thou must, alas! thou sely Greeke. 
 Ah, Phithas, now come is thy dolefull houre : 
 A perfect friend, none such a world to seeke. 
 
 08 paynted] vaunted, 2d edit. 8 7 streams, 2d edit. '
 
 248 DAMON AND TITHIAS. 
 
 Though bitter death shall geve thee sauce full sower, 
 Yet for thy faith enrold shall be thy name, 
 Among the gods, within the booke of fame. 
 Who knoweth his case, and will not melt in teares? 
 His giltless bloud shall trickle downe anon. 
 
 THEN THE MUSES SINGE. 
 
 Alas, what happe hast thou, poore Pithias, new to die! 
 Wo worth the man which for his death hath geven its 
 cause to crie. 
 
 Eubulus. Methinke I heare, with yelow rented heares, 
 The Muses frame their noies, thy * state to mone : 
 Among which sorte, as one that morneth with harte, 
 In doleful tunes myself wyll beare a parte. 
 
 Muses. Wo worth the man which for his death, &c. 
 
 Eubulus. With yelow rented heares, come on you 
 
 Muses nine ; 
 Fyll now my breast with heavy tunes, to me your plaints 
 
 resigne : 
 
 For Pithias I bewayle, which presently must die, 
 Wo worth the man which for his death hath geven us 
 
 cause, &c. 
 Muses. Wo worth the man which for his, &c. 
 
 Eubulus. Was ever such a man, that would die for his 
 
 friend ? 
 I thinke even from the heavens above, the gods did him 
 
 downe sende 
 To shew true friendshipp's power, which forst thee now 
 
 to die. 
 
 Wo worth the man which for thy death, &c. 
 Muses. Wo worth the man, &c. 
 Eubulus. What tigars whelp was he, that Damon dyd 
 
 accuse ? 
 
 What faith hast thou, which for thy friend thy death doth 
 not refuse ? 
 
 * Both the old copies have it " my state to mone" which may be 
 right, and the substitution should not have been made without 
 notice. C.
 
 DAMON AND P1TIIIAS. 249 
 
 O heavy happe hadst thou io play this tragidie ! 
 Wo worth the man which for thy death, &c. 
 Muses. Worth the man, &c.' 
 
 Eubulus. Thou young and worthy Greeke, that 
 
 showest such perfect love, 
 
 The gods receave thy simple ghost into the heavens above : 
 Thy death v;e shall lament with many a weepinge eye. 
 Wo worth the man, which for his death, &c. 
 
 Muses. Wo worth the man, which for thy death hath 
 geven us cause to crie. [Finis. 
 
 Eubulus. Eternall be your fame, ye Muses, for that 
 
 in miserie 
 
 Ye did vouchsafe to strayne your notes to walke. 
 My harle is rent in two with this miserable case, 
 Yet am I charged by Dionisius' mouth, to se this place 
 At all poynts ready for the execution of Pithias. 
 Ncede hath no law : wyll 88 I, or nil I, it must be done, 
 But loe, the bloodie minister is even here at hande. 
 Gronno, I came hether now to understand, 
 If all thinges are well appoynted for the execution of 
 
 Pithias. 
 
 The kinge him selfe wyll se it done here in this place. 
 Gronno. Sir, all thinges are ready, here is the place, 
 
 here is the hand, here is the sword : 
 Here lacketh non but Pithias, whose head at a worde, 
 If he were present, I coulde finely strike of. 
 You may reporte that all thinges are ready. 
 
 Eubulus. I go with an heavy harte to report it. Ah, 
 
 woful Pithias ! 
 
 Full neare now is thy misery. [Exit. 
 
 Gronno. I marvcll very much, under what constilation 
 
 All hangmen are borne, for thev are hated of all, 
 
 beloved of none : 
 
 Which hatred is showed by this poynt evidently : 
 The hangman alwayes dwelles in the vilest place of the 
 
 citie. 
 
 88 wyll I, or nil I] Whether I will or not. See Note 23 to Grim 
 the Collier of Croydon, vol. XI.
 
 250 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 That such spight should be, I know no cause why, 
 Unlesse it be for their offices sake, which is cruel and 
 
 bloody. 
 
 Yet some men must do it, to execute lawes. 
 Me thinke they hate me without any just cause. 
 But I must looke to my toyle; Pithias must lose his 
 
 head at one blow, 
 Els the boyes wyll stone me to death in the streat as I 
 
 go. 
 
 But hai ke, tiie prisoner cometh, and the kinge also : 
 I see there is no help, Pithias his life must forgo. 
 
 Htrt entreth DIONIMUS and EUBULUS. 
 Bring forth Pithias, that pleasant companion* 
 Which tooke mee at my worde, and became pleadge 
 
 for Damon. 
 
 It pricketh 69 last upon noone, 1 doo hirn no injurie, 
 If now he lose his head, for so he requested me, 
 If Damon returns not, which now in Greece is full 
 
 mery : 
 
 Therfore shall Pithias pay his death, and thatbyandby. 
 He thought belike, if Damon were out of the citie, 
 I wo&ld not put him to death for some foolishe pitie: 
 But seeing it was his request, 1 wyll not be mockt, he 
 
 shall die; 
 Bring him forth. 
 
 Here entreth SNAP.* 
 Snap. Geve place, let the prisoner come by; give 
 
 place. 
 Dionmus. How say you, sir; where is Damon, your 
 
 trustie friend ? 
 
 You have playd a wise part, I make God a vow: 
 You know \\hat time a day it is, make you ready. 
 Pitldas. Most ready I am, mightie king, and most 
 
 ready also 
 
 For my true friend Damon this lyfe to forgo, 
 Even at your pleasure. 
 
 68 pric'keth'] i. e. it rideth fast upon noon. The word is used by 
 Spenser and many of our ancient writers. 
 
 * With Pithias in his custody, and Stepbano, as is evident from 
 the rest of the scene. C.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 251 
 
 Dionisins. A true Trend ! a false traytor, that so 
 
 breaketh his oth. 
 Thou shak lose thy Hie, though thou be never so loth. 
 
 Pithias. I am not loth tudoo what so ever I sayde, 
 Ne at this piesent pinch of death am I dismayUe: 
 The Gods now I know have heard my fervent prayer, 
 That they have reserved me to this passynge great 
 
 honour, 
 To die for my frend, whose faith even now I doo not 
 
 mistruste ; 
 My frinde Damon is no false traytour, he is true and 
 
 jusie : 
 But sith he is no God, but a man, he must doo as he 
 
 may, 
 The winde may be contrary, sicknes may let him 90 , or 
 
 some misadventure by the way, 
 Which the eteinail Gods tourne all to my glorie, 
 That fame may rewound how Pithias tor Damon did die: 
 He breaketh no oth which doth as much as he can, 
 His minde is heare, he hath some let, he is but a man. 
 That he might not returne of all the Gods I did require, 
 Which now to my joy do ! " graunt my desire. 
 But \\iiy doo I stay any longer, seing that one man's 
 
 death 
 
 May suffise, O king, to pacifie thy wrath? 
 O thou minister of justice, doo thyne office by and by, 
 Let not thy hand tremble, for I tremble not to die. 
 Stephano, the right patrone of true tidelitie, 
 Commend me to thy master, my sweet Damon, and of 
 
 him crave iibertie 
 
 When I am dead, in my name; for thy trustie services 
 Hath well deserved a gift farre better than this. 
 Oh my Damon, farewell now for ever, a true friend, to 
 
 me most deare ; 
 Whyles lyfe doth laste, my mouth shall styll talke of 
 
 t.hee, 
 And when I am dead, my simple ghost, true witnes of 
 
 amitie, 
 Shall hoover about the place wheresoever thou bee. 
 
 <J let him,'] i. e. hinder him. ?1 do] doth. Both 4tos.
 
 252 -DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Dionisius. Eubulus, this geare is straunge ; and yet 
 
 because 
 
 Damon hath falst his faith, Pithias shall have the lawe. 
 
 Gronno, dispoyle hym, and eke dispatch him quickly. 
 
 Gronno, It shal be done ; since you came into this 
 
 place, 
 
 I might have stroken off seven heades in this space. 
 Ber lady, here are good garments, these are myne by 
 
 the roode ! 
 
 It is an evyll winde that bloweth no man good. 
 Now Pithias kneele downe, aske me blessyng like a 
 
 pretie boy, 
 And with a trise, thy head from thy shoulders I wyll 
 
 convay. 
 
 Here entreth DAMON running, and stayes the sword. 
 Damon. Stay, stay, stay ! for the kinges advantage 
 
 stay! 
 O mightie kynge, myne appointed time is not yet fully 
 
 past; 
 Within the compasse of myne houre, loe here I come 
 
 at last. 
 
 A life 1 owe, and a life I will you pay : 
 Oh ! my Pithias, my noble pledge, my constant friend ! 
 Ah ! wo is me ! for Damon's sake, how neare were thou 
 
 to thy ende ! 
 Geve place to me, this rowme is myne, on this stage 
 
 must I play. 
 Damon is the man, none ought but he to Dionisius his 
 
 blood to pay. 
 Gronno. Are you come, sir ? you might have taried 
 
 if you had bene wyse : 
 For your hastie comming you are lyke to know the 
 
 prise. 
 Pithias. O thou cruel minnister, why didst not thou 
 
 thine office? 
 
 Did not I bidde thee make hast in any wyse ? 
 Hast thou spared to kill me once, that I may die twyse ? 
 Not to die for my frend, is present death to me ; and 
 
 alas ! 
 Shall I see my sweet Damon slaine before my face ?
 
 DAMON AND TITIIIAS. 253 
 
 What double death is this ? but, O mightie Dionisius, 
 Doo true justice now : way this aright, thou noble 
 
 Eubulus ; 
 
 Let mee have no wronge as now standes the case, 
 Damon ought not to die, but Pithias: 
 By misadventure, not by his wyll, his howre is past; 
 
 therefore I, 
 Because he came not at his just tyme, ought justly to 
 
 die : 
 
 So was my promise, so was thy promise, O kynge, 
 All this courte can beare witnesse of this thinge. 
 
 Damon. Not so, O mightie kynge: to justice it is 
 
 contrarie, 
 
 That for another man's faulte the innocent should die: 
 Ne yet is my time playnly expirde, it is not fully noone 
 Of this my day appointed, by all the clockes in the 
 
 towne. 
 Pithias. Beleeve no clocke, the houre is past by the 
 
 sonne. 
 Damon. Ah, my Pithias, shall we now breake the 
 
 bondes of amitie? 
 Will you now overthwart mee, which heretofore so well 
 
 did agree ? 
 Pithias. My Damon, the Goddes forbid but wee 
 
 should agree ; 
 Therefore agree to this, let mee perfourme the promise 
 
 made for thee. 
 
 Let mee die for thee; doo mee not that injurie, 
 Both to breake my promise, and to suffer me to see thee 
 
 die, 
 
 Whome so dearly I love : this small request graunt mee, 
 I shall never aske thee more, my desire is but frindly. 
 Doo me this honour, that fame may reporte trium- 
 phantly, 
 
 That Pithias for his friende Damon was contented to die. 
 Damon. That you were contented for me to die fame 
 
 cannot denie ; 
 
 Yet fame shall never touch me with such a villanie, 
 To reporte that Damon did suffer his frind Pithias for 
 him giltles to die;
 
 254 DAMON AND PITHlAS. 
 
 Therfore content thyselfe, the Gods requite thy con- 
 stant faith, 
 
 None but Damon's bloud can appease Dionisius' wrath. 
 And now, O mightie kinge, to you my talke I convay, 
 Because you gave me leave my worldly thinges to stay, 
 To requite that good tourne ere I die, for your behalfe 
 
 this I say, 
 
 Although your regall state dame Fortune decketh so, 
 That like a kinge in worldly wealth abondantly ye 
 
 floe, 
 
 Yet fickle is the grounde whereon all tirrants treade, 
 A thousand sundrie cares and feares doo haunt their 
 
 restlesse head : . 
 
 No trustie band, no faithfull friendes doo garde thy 
 
 hateful! state, 
 And why ? whom men obey for deadly feare, sure them 
 
 they deadly hate. 
 That you may safely raigne, by love get friends, whose 
 
 constant faith 
 Wyll never fayle, this counsell geves poore Damon at 
 
 his death : 
 Friendes are the surest garde for kinges, gold in time 
 
 doos 9 * wear away, 
 And other precious thinges doo fade, frindship wyll 
 
 never decay. 
 Have friendes in store therefore, so shall you safely 
 
 sleape; 
 Have friends at home, of forraine foes so neede you 
 
 take no keepe. 
 Abandon flatring tongues, whose clackes truth never 
 
 tels ; 
 Abase the yll, advance the good, in whome dame ver- 
 
 tue dwels ; 
 
 92 doos] doo, 1st edit. 
 
 The reading of both th old copies in this place is 
 " golden time doos wear away," 
 
 If it were worth while to remark the difference between doo and 
 doos, it might have been as well not to make the change in the text 
 without notice, although it is probably right. C.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 255 
 
 Let them your play felowes be : but O, you earthly 
 
 kinges, 
 Your sure defence and strongest garde stands chifly in 
 
 fitithiull friendes : 
 Then get you friends by liberal! deedes ; and here I 
 
 make an ende : 
 Accept this counsell, mightie king, of Damon, Pithias 
 
 fr'ende. 
 Oh, my Pithias ! now farewell for ever, let me kisse 
 
 thee or 9 3 I (]j e> 
 My soule shall honour thee, thy constant faith above 
 
 the heavens shall flie. 
 Come Gronno, doo thine office now ; why is thy colour 
 
 so dead ? 
 My neck is so short, that thon wylt never have honestie 
 
 in striking of this ! H'ad Q4 . 
 Dionisitts. Eubulus, my sp'rites are sodenly ap- 
 
 pauled, my limes waxe weake ; 
 This straunge friendship amaseth me so, that I can 
 
 scarse speake. 
 Pithias. O mightie kinge, let some pittie your noble 
 
 harte meeve ; 
 
 You require but one man's death, take Pithias, let Da- 
 mon live. 
 
 Eubnlus. O unspeakable frindship ! 
 Damon. Not so, he hath not offended, there is no 
 
 cause why 
 
 My constant friend Pithias for Damon's sake should 
 die. 
 
 93 or] ere, 2d edit. 
 
 94 Mi/ neck is so shorte that thnu wilt never have honestie in striking 
 of this hend.'l \. e. thou wilt derive no credit from striking off a head 
 so disadvartageously placed for the purpose of decollation. Hnn- 
 netete, Fr. antiently si^-.ified fame or reputatlm in the dextrous 
 execution of any undertaking, whether honourable or the contrary. 
 Honesty seems here to be used with the French meaning. S. 
 
 In this instance the Author appears to have had before him the 
 speech which Sir Thomas More made at his execution. Hall, in 
 his Chronicle tempore Henry VIII. p 226, says, " Also thehang- 
 " man knoled doun to him ask\ng him forgevenes of his death (as 
 " the manner is), to whom he sayed I forgeve thee, but I promise 
 "thee that thou shalt never have honestie of the strykyng of my 
 " head, my necke is so short."
 
 256 ' DAMON AND PiTHIAS. 
 
 Alas, he is but young, he may do good to many. 
 
 Thou cowarde minister, why doest thou not let mee 
 
 die? 
 
 Gronno. My hand with soden feare quivereth. 
 Pilhias. O noble kinge, shewe mercy upon Damon, 
 
 let Pithias die. 
 
 Dionisius. Stay Gronno my flesh trembleth. Eubu- 
 lus, what shall I doo ? 
 
 Were there ever such frindes on earth as were these 
 two ? 
 
 What harte is so cruell that would devide them asun- 
 der? 
 
 O noble friendship, I must yeld ; at thy force I wonder. 
 
 My hart this rare frindship, hath pearst to the roote, 
 
 And quenched all my fury : this sight hath brought 
 this about, 
 
 Which thy grave counsell, Eubulus, and learned per- 
 swasion could never doo. 
 
 O noble gentlemen, the immortal Gods above 
 
 Hath made you play this tragidie, I think, for my be- 
 hove: 
 
 Before this day I never knew what perfect friendship 
 ment. 
 
 My cruell mind to bloody deedes was full and wholly 
 bente : 
 
 My feareful life I thought with terrour to defende, 
 
 But now I see there is no garde unto a f'aithfull friend, 
 
 Which wyll not spare his Jyfe at time of present neede: 
 
 happie kinges who in* your courtes have two such 
 
 frinds indeed ! 
 
 1 honour friendship now, which that you may playnly 
 
 see, 
 
 Damon, have thou thy lyfe, from death I pardon thee ; 
 For which good tourne, I crave this honour doe me 
 
 lend, 
 Oh frindly hart, let me linke with you, to you sb make 
 
 me the thirde friende. 
 
 * The two old copies have it 
 
 " O happie kinges within your courtes," &c. C. 
 95 to you] two to, 3d edit.
 
 DAMON AND PITIIIAS. 257 
 
 My courte is yours ; dwell here with mee, by my com- 
 mission large, 
 
 Myself, my realme, my welth, my health, I commit to 
 your charge : 
 
 Make me a thirde friend, more shall I joye in that 
 thing 1 , 
 
 Then to be called as I am, Dionisius the mightiekinge. 
 Damon. O mightie king, first for my lyfe most hum- 
 ble thankes I geve, 
 
 And next, I prayse the immortall Gods that did your 
 harte so meve, 
 
 Tkat you would have respect to friendships heavenly 
 lore, 
 
 Forseing vvel he need not feare which hath true friends 
 in store. 
 
 For my part, most noble king, as a third frind, welcom 
 to our friendly societie ; 
 
 But you must forget you ar a king, for frindship stands 
 
 in tru equalitie. 
 Dionisius. Unequall though I be in great possessions, 
 
 Yet full equall shall you finde me in my changed con- 
 ditions. 
 
 Tirrannie, flatter ie, oppression, loe, hear 1 cast away ; 
 
 Justice, truth, love, frindship, shall be my joy: 
 
 True friendship wyl I honour unto my lives end ; 
 
 My greatest glorie shall be to be counted a perfect, 
 
 friende. 
 
 Pithias. For this your deede, most noble king, the 
 Gods advance your name, 
 
 And since to friendship's lore you list your princely 
 harte to frame, 
 
 With joyfull hart, O kinge, most wellcome now to me, 
 
 "With you wyll I knit the perfect knot of amitie : 
 
 Wherein I shall enstruct you so, and Damon here your 
 friend, 
 
 That you may know of amitie the mighty force, and 
 eke the joyful end : 
 
 And how that kinges doo stand uppon a fickle ground, 
 
 Within whose realme at time of need no faithful! friends 
 are founde.
 
 258 nAM'ON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Dionisius. Your instruction wyll I folow; to you 
 
 myself I doo commite. 
 
 Eubulus, make haste to set new apparell, fitte 
 For my new friends. 
 
 Eubulus. I go with joyful hart. O happie day ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 Gronno. I am glad to heare this word. Though their 
 
 lives they doo not leese, 
 
 It is no reason 96 the hangman should lose his fees : 
 These are mine, I am gone with a trise. [Exit. 
 
 Here entreth EUBULUS with new garmentes. 
 Dionisius. Put on these garmentes now ; goe in with 
 
 me, the jewelles of my court. 
 Damon and Pithias. We go with joyfull harts. 
 Stephano. Oh, Damon, my deare master, in all this 
 
 joy remember me. 
 
 Dionisius. My friend Damon, he asketh reason. 
 Damon. Stephano, for thy good service be thou free. 
 
 [Exeunt Dion.* 
 Stephano. O most happie, pleasant, joyfull, and 
 
 triumphant day ! 
 
 Poore Stephano now shall live in continuall joy : 
 Five leroy,\fhh Damon and Pithias, in perfect amitie. 
 Vive tu Stephano, in thy pleasant liberalise : 
 Wherein I joy as much as he that hath a conquest 
 
 wonne, 
 I am a free man, none so mery as I now under the 
 
 sonne. 
 Farewel my lords, nowe the Gods graunt you al the 
 
 som of perfect amitie, 
 And me longe to enjoy my longe desired libertie. [Exit. 
 
 Here entreth EUBULUS beatyng CARISOPHUS. 
 Away villaine ! away, you flatringe parasite ! 
 Away the plague of this courier thy filed tongue, that 
 forged lies, 
 
 96 not reason] no reason, .1st edit. 
 
 * This direction means that Dionisius, Damon, Pitliias, and all 
 others go out, excepting Stephano. C.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 259 
 
 No more here shall doo hurt: away, false sicophant ! 
 
 wilt thou not? 
 Carisophus. I am gone, sir, seeing it is the kingds 
 
 pleasure. 
 Why whyp ye me alone ? a plague take Damon and 
 
 Pithias, since they came hither 
 I am driven to seeke releefe abrod, alas ! I know not 
 
 whither. 
 Yet, Eubulus, though I be gone, hereafter time shall 
 
 trie, 
 
 There shall be found even in this court as great flat- 
 terers as I. 
 Well, for a while I wyll forgo the court, though to my 
 
 great payne: 
 I doubt not but to spie a time when I may creepe in 
 
 againe. [Exit. 
 
 Eubulus. The serpent that eates men alive, flattery, 
 
 with all her broode, 
 Is whipte away in princes courtes, whiche yet did never 
 
 good. 
 What force, what mighty power true friendship may 
 
 possesse, 
 To all the worlde, Dionisius* courte now playnly doth 
 
 expresse ; 
 
 Who since to faithfull friendes he gave his willyng eare, 
 Most safely sitteth in his seate, and sleepes devoid of 
 
 feare. 
 
 Pourged is the court of vice, since friendship entred in, 
 Tirannie quailes, he studieth now with love eche hart 
 
 to win : 
 
 Vertue is had in price, and hath his just rewarde ; 
 And painted speache, that gloseth for gayne, from gifts 
 
 is quite debard. 
 
 One loveth another now for vertue, not for gayne; 
 Where vertue doth not knit the knot, there friendship 
 
 cannot raigne ; 
 Without the whiche, no house, no land, ne kingdome 
 
 can endure, 
 As necessarie for man's lyfe, as water, ayre, and fier,
 
 260 ' DAMON AND PITHIAS. 
 
 Which frameth the minde of man, all honest thinges 
 
 to doo : 
 
 Unhonest thinges friendshippe ne craveth, ne yet con- 
 sents thereto. 
 
 In wealth a double joye, in woe a present stay, 
 A sweete compagnion in each state true friendship is 
 
 alway : 
 
 A sure defence for kinges, a perfect trustie bande, 
 A force to assayle, a shield to defende the enemies 
 
 cruell hande ; 
 A rare, and yet the greatest gift that God can geve to 
 
 man; 
 So rare, that scarce four couple of faithfull frends have 
 
 ben since the worlde began. 
 A gift so strange, and of such price, I wish all kyngs 
 
 to have ; 
 
 But chiefely yet, as duetie bindeth, I humbly crave, 
 True friendship and true friendes, full fraught with 
 
 constant faith, 
 The gever of friends, the Lord, grant her, most noble 
 
 Queene Elizabeth.
 
 DAMON AND PITHIAS. 261 
 
 THE LAST SONGE. 
 
 The strongest garde that kynges can have, 
 Are constant friends their state to save: 
 Truefriendes are constant both in word and deede, 
 Truefriendes are present, and.helpe at each neede : 
 Truefriendes talks truely, they g lose for no gayne, 
 When treasure consuweth, (rue frindes wyll remayne: 
 True frindes for their Iru prince rcfuseth not their death : 
 The Lord graunt her such frindes, most noble Queene 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 Longe may she governe in honour and wealth, 
 Voyde of all sicknesse, in most perfect health: 
 Which health to prolonge, as true friends require, 
 God graunt she may have her owne hartes desire: 
 Which friendes wyll defend with most stedfasi faith, 
 The Lorde graunt her such friendes, most noble Queene 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 FINIS.
 
 EDITIONS. 
 
 (!) " The excellent Comedieof two the moste faith- 
 ' fullest Freendes Damon and Pithias. Newly irn- 
 ' printed as the same was shewed before the Queenes 
 ' Majestic, by the Children of her Graces Chappell, 
 ' except the Prologue, that is somewhat altered for the 
 ' proper use of them that hereafter shall have occasion 
 ' to plaie it either in Private or open Audience. Made 
 ' by Maister Edwards, then beynge Maister of the 
 ' Children 1571. Imprinted at London, in Fleetelane, 
 ' by Richarde Johnes, and are to be solde at his Shop 
 * joyning to the Southwest doore of Paule's Churche." 
 4to. Black Letter. 
 
 (2.) Another Edition in 4to, B. L. 1582.* Both in 
 Mr. Garrick's Collection. 
 
 * The following imprint is the only variation in the titles of the 
 two copies. " Imprinted at London, by Richarde Jones : dwelling 
 " neere unto Holborne Bridge, over against the syne of the Faulcon. 
 " Anno 1582." C.
 
 NEW CUSTOMS.
 
 I HAVE not been able to discover who was the Author 
 of this Piece. But I think it is one of the most re- 
 markable of our ancient Moralities, as it was wrote 
 purposely to vindicate and promote the Reformation. 
 It was print cl in 157'- 5 , and contrived so that four 
 people might act it: this was frequently done, as 1 have 
 observed in the Preface, for the convenience of such as 
 were disposed to divert or improve themselves, by 
 representing these kinds of Entertainments in their own 
 houses. This, and God's Promises by Bishop Bale, 
 will serve as specimens of the ancient Mysteries and 
 Moralities.
 
 THE PLAYERS NAMES IN TIJIS ENTERLUDE 
 BE THESE. 
 
 THE PROLOGUE. 
 
 PERVERSE DOCTRINE, and old popishe Priest. 
 IGNORAUNCE, an other, but elder. 
 NEW CUSTOM E, a Minister. 
 LIGHT OF THE GOSPELL, a Minister. 
 HYPOCRISIE, an olde Woman. 
 CREWELTIE, a Ruffler\ 
 AVARICE, a Ruffler. 
 EDIFICATION, a Sage. 
 ASSURAUNCE, a Vertue. 
 GODDES FELICITIE, a Sage. 
 
 FOWER MAY PLAY THIS ENTERLUDE. 
 
 ( NEW CUSTOME. 
 1 PERVERSE DOCTRINE. 3< AVARICE. 
 
 f ASSURANCE. 
 * LIGHT OF THE Gos 
 t IGNORAUNCE. ^* V PELL. 
 
 2/ HYPOCRISIE, 4-^CuEWELTiE. 
 
 EDIFICATION. /GODDES FELICITIE. 
 
 ^-THE PROLOGUE. 
 
 i Creweltie a Ruffler.] i. e. a cheating bully, so called in several 
 Acts of Parliament during the reign of King Henry the Eighth. S.
 
 THE PROLOGUE. 
 
 Al thinges be not soe as in sight they doe seeme, 
 What so ever they resemble, or what ever men deeme. 
 For if our senses in their oione objects us dofayle 
 Sometimes, then our judgements shall but little availe 
 In some thinges, as such, where doubt geveth deniall 
 Of them in the best wise to make any triall. 
 Which sayinge is evident, as well shall appears 
 In this little Enterlude whiche we present heare ; 
 Whereby we may learn how grossly we erre, 
 Taking one thingefor another, which differ sofarre 
 As good dothefrom badde. Example therefore 
 You may take by these persons if you marke no more. 
 For the primitive constitution, whiche wasfyrst appointed 
 Even by God himself, and by Christ his annoynted 
 Confirmed by tfi appostles, and of great anttquitie : 
 See howe it is perverted by manne's wicked iniquitie, 
 To be called newe Custome, or neive Constitucion, 
 Surely a name of to much ungodly abusion. 
 Which our author indifferently seanninge in his minde, 
 In his simple opinion this cause hee dothfinde; 
 That by reason of ignorance which beareth great swaie, 
 And also stubberne doctrine, which shutteth up the waie 
 To all good instruction, and knowledge of right : 
 No marvell it was, though of the trueth we were igno- 
 
 raunt quight. 
 
 For truely in suche a case, the matter was but small, 
 To make the ignorant sowle to credite them all, 
 What so ever they saide, were it trueth or a lye. 
 For no man able was then to prove them the contrarie. 
 Wherefore their ownefansies they sette in great prise, 
 Neglectijige the trewe waye, like mcnfarre unwise.
 
 268 
 
 Making semblant of antiquitie in all that they did, 
 
 To th' intent that their sitbtiltie by suche meanes might 
 
 be hid. 
 
 Newe Cufitome also hath he named this matter verilie, 
 In consideration that the people so speaketh commonlie, 
 Confuting the same by reasons most manifest, 
 Whiche in consequent order of talke are exprest. 
 This sence hath our Author followed herein, as we saide, 
 For other meaning, moreover hee will not have it denaide, 
 But diverse may invent muche distant from this, 
 Whiche in no wise he will have prejudiciall to his, 
 Nor his unto theirs, whatsoever they bee, 
 For many heades, many wittes, wee doo plainely see. 
 Onely hee desireth this of the worshipfull audience, 
 To take in goodparte loithout al manner offence. 
 Whatsoever shall be spoken, mar king the intent, 
 Interpreting it no otherwise but as it was ment. 
 And for us, if of pacience you list to attende, 
 Wee are readie to declare you the matter to the ende. 
 
 FINIS PROLOGI.
 
 NEW CUSTOME. 
 
 ACTUS I. SCENA I. 
 
 PERVERSE DOCTRINE and IGNORANCE enter. 
 Perverse Doctrine. IT is even so in deede, the worlde 
 
 was never in so evyll a state. 
 
 But this is no time for us of these matters to debate. 
 It were good wee invented some politike waie 
 Our matters to addresse in good orderly staie. 
 And for us, reason would we loked to ourselves. 
 Do you not see howe these newe fangled pratling elfes 
 Prinke up so pertly of late in every plaee, 
 And go about us auncients flatly to deface ? 
 As who shoulde say in shorte time, as well learned as 
 
 wee, 
 As wise to the worlde, as good they mighte accomptid 
 
 bee, 
 Naye, naye, if many yeers and graie heares do knowe 
 
 no more, 
 But that every pevishe boye hath even as muche witte 
 
 in store : 
 By the masse then have I lyved to long, and I would 
 
 I were dead, 
 If I have not more knoweledge then a thousande of 
 
 them in my head," 
 For how should they have learning that were borne 
 
 but even now ? 
 As fit a sighte it were to see a goose shodde, or a 
 
 sadled cowe, 
 
 As to hear the pratlinge of any soche Jack Strawe. 
 For when hee hath all done I compte him but a very 
 
 da we.
 
 270 NEW CUSTOMK. [ACT I. 
 
 As in London not longe since, you wot well where, 
 They rang to a Sermon, and we chaunced to be there. 
 Up start the preacher, I thinke not past twenty yeeres 
 
 olde, 
 
 With a sounding voyce, and audacitie bolde, 
 And beganne to revile at the holie sacrament, and 
 
 transubstanciation . 
 
 I never hearde one knave or other make suche a decla- 
 ration : 
 
 But, if I had had the boye in a convenient place, 
 With a good rodde or twain not past one howre's 
 
 space. 
 I woulde so have scourged my marchant' 2 , that his 
 
 breeche should ake, 
 
 So longe as it is since that he those woordes spake. 
 What, younge men to be medlers in Divinitie ? it is a 
 
 godly sight ! 
 
 Yet therein nowe almost is every boye's delight, 
 No brooke nowe in their handes, but all scripture, 
 
 scripture, 
 Eyther the whole Bible, or the new Testament, you 
 
 may be sure. 
 The newe Testament for them ? and then to for cowle 
 
 my dogge 3 . 
 This is the olde proverbe, to cast perles to an hogge. 
 
 8 my marchani] Merchant was antiently used as we now use the 
 word chap. See Note on Romeo and Juliet, A. 2. S. 4. S. 
 
 3 and then to for cowle my dogge] Cowle or rather coll, I sup- 
 pose to be the name of the dog. S. 
 
 Cmvle my dog, I am inclined to believe means put a cowle or hood 
 on a dog, and he will be as learned as a frier : the contempt into 
 which the order had at this period fallen will at least countenance 
 the explanation, if it should not be thought sufficient to prove it. I 
 once was of opinion, that there might be an allusion to the case of 
 one Collins a crazy man, who seeing a priest hold up the host over 
 his head, lifted up a dog in the same manner, for which both he 
 and the animal were burnt in 1538. See Foxe, vol. II. 436. 
 
 My conjecture requires a little explanation. The speaker means 
 to say, " If the new testament is fit for the use of boys, so like- 
 wise is it adapted equally to the conception of cM my dog. The 
 one will understand and make a proper use of it as soon as the 
 other." S.
 
 SC. I.] NEW CUSTOME. 271 
 
 Geve them that whiche is meete for them, a racket and 
 
 a ball, 
 
 Or some other trifle to busie their headcs with all : 
 Playinge atcoytes or nine hooles 4 , or shooting at buttes, 
 There let them be a goddes name, til their hartes ake 
 
 and their guttes. 
 
 Let us alone with divinitie, which are of ryper age. 
 Youth is rashe, they say, but olde men hath the know- 
 ledge. 
 For while they reade they know not what, they omit 
 
 the veritie, 
 
 And that is nowe the cause so many fall into heresie, 
 Every man hath his owne way, some that, and some 
 
 this, 
 It wolde almost for anger surreverence 5 make a man 
 
 to pisse, 
 
 To heare what they talke of in open communication, 
 Surely I feare me, Ignorance, this geare wyl make 
 
 some desolation. 
 Ignoraunce. I feare the same also, but as towching 
 
 that wherof you speake full well, 
 They have revoked diverse olde heresies out of hell. 
 As against transubstantiation, purgatory, and the masse, 
 And say that by scripture they can not be brought to 
 
 passe. 
 
 But that whiche ever hath ben a most trewe and con- 
 stant opinion, 
 
 And defended also hitherto by all of our religion, 
 That T, Ignorance, am the mother of true devotion, 
 And Knowledge the auctour of the contrarie affection : 
 They denie it so stoutely as thoughe it were not so; 
 But this hath ben beleft many an hundred yeere ago. 
 Wherefore it greveth mee not a lyttle that my case 
 
 should so stande, 
 Thus to be disproved at every pratler's hande. 
 
 4 Playinge at coytes or nine fwoles.~\ By the Stat. 53 Hen. VIII. c. 
 9. s. 16. a penalty is imposed on certain persons therein mentioned, 
 who should play at the tables, tennis, dice, cards, bowls, clash, 
 coyting, legating, or other unlawful game. Coytes are the same as 
 quoits. 
 
 * surreverence] Perhaps a contraction of save your reverence, S.
 
 272 NEW CUSTOMS. ACT I. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. Yea, doth ? then the more un- 
 
 wiseman you, as I trowe, 
 
 For they say as muche by me, as you well do knowe. 
 And shall I then go vexe my selfe at theyr talke? 
 No, let them speake so longe as their tongues can 
 
 walke. 
 
 They shall not greve mee, for why ? in very south 
 It were follie to endeavour to stop every manne's 
 
 mouth. 
 They have brought in one, a younge upstart ladde as 
 
 it appeares, 
 I am sure he hath not ben in the realme very many 
 
 yeares, 
 With a gathered frocke, a powlde head and a broade 
 
 hatte, 
 An unshaved bearde, a pale face, and hee teacheth 
 
 that 
 
 All our doings are naught, and hath ben many a day. 
 Hee disaloweth our ceremonies and rites, and teacheth 
 
 an other way 
 
 To serve God, then that whiche wee do use, 
 And goeth about the people's myndes to seduce. 
 It is a pestilent knave, hee wyll have priestes no corner 
 
 cappes to weare 6 , 
 Surplices are superstition, beades, paxes, and suche 
 
 other geare, 
 
 6 hee wyll have priestes no corner cappes to weare] Foxe, in t6e 
 third volume of his Acts and Monuments, p. 131, says, " Over 
 ' and besides divers others things touching M. Rogers, this is not 
 ' to be forgotten, how, in the daies of King of Edward the Sixth, 
 ' there was a controversie among the Bishops and Clergie^/or wear- 
 ' ing of priests caps, and other attyre belonging to that order. Master 
 ' Rogers being one of that number which never went otherwise 
 ' than in a round cap during all the time of King Edward, affirmed 
 ' that he would not agree to that decreement of uniformitie, 
 ' but upon this condition, that if they would needs have such an 
 ' uniformitie of wearing the cap, tippet, &c. then it should be de- 
 ' creed withall, that the papists for a difference betwixt them and 
 ' others should be constrained to weare upon their sleeves a chalice 
 ' with an host upon it. Whereunto if they would consent, he 
 ' would agree to the other, otherwise he would not he said con- 
 ' sent to the setting forth of the same, nor ever weare the cap ; 
 ' nor indeed he never did."
 
 SC. I.] NEW CUSTOME.' 273 
 
 Crosses, belles, candells, oyle, bran, salt, spettle, and 
 
 incense, 
 With sensing and singing, he accomptes not worth iii 
 
 half pense, 
 
 And cries out on them all, if to repete them I wist, 
 Suche holy thinges wherein our religion doth consist: 
 But hee commaundes the service in English to be 
 
 readde, 
 And for the Holy Legende?, the Bible too put in his 
 
 steadde, 
 
 Every man to looke thereon at his list and pleasure, 
 Every man to studie divinitie at his convenient leasure ; 
 With a thousand newe guises more, you know as well 
 
 as I. 
 
 And to term him by his right name, if I should not lie, 
 It is new Custome, for so they do him call, 
 Both our sister Hipocrisie, Superstition, Idolatrie and all. 
 And truely me thinketh, they do justly and wisely 
 
 therein, 
 Since hee is so divers, and so lately crept in. 
 
 Ignoraunce. So they call him indeede, you have saide 
 
 ryght well, 
 
 Because he came newely from the devyll of hell, 
 New Custome, quoth you ? now a vengeance of his 
 
 newe nose, 
 
 For bringing in any suche unaccustomed glose; 
 For hee hath seduced the people by mightie greate 
 
 flockes, 
 Bodie of God, it were good to set the knave in the 
 
 stockes. 
 Or elles to whyp him for an exaumple to all roges as 
 
 hee, 
 
 How they the authors of newe heresies bee. 
 Or henceforth do attempt any such strange devise, 
 Let him keepe himselfe from my handes, if he be wyse. 
 If ever I may take him within my rayne, 
 He is sure to have whipping theere 8 for his payne. 
 
 7 the Holy Legende] I suppose the Legenda Aurea, the Golden Le- 
 gend of Jacobus de Voragine. S. 
 
 1 theere] So the 4to. I think we should read cheere.
 
 274 NEW CUSTOME. [ACT. 
 
 For hee doth muche harme in eache place throughout 
 
 the lande : 
 Wherefore, Perverse Doctrine, heere nedeth your 
 
 hande : 
 
 I meane, that ye be diligent in any case, 
 If ye fortune to come where New Custome is in place, 
 So to use the villaine, you know what I meane, 
 That in all poyntes you may discredite him cleane : 
 And when hee beginnes of any thynge for to clatter, 
 Of any controversie of learnyng, or divinitie matter, 
 So to cling fast unto every manne's thought, 
 That his wordes may seeme heresie, and his doinges 
 
 but nought. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Tushe, let me alone with that, 
 
 for I have not so lyttle wit, 
 But I have practised this alreadie, and minde also to 
 
 doit. 
 
 Y^et a further devise I have, I think, not amisse. 
 Hearken to mee, Ignorance, for the matter is this : 
 For the better accomplishing our subtiltie pretended, 
 It were expedient that bothe our names were amended ; 
 Ignorance shall be Sirnplicitie, for that comes very nie ; 
 And for Perverse Doctrine I will be called Sounde 
 
 Doctrine, I. 
 
 And nowe that wee are both in suche sorte named, 
 Wee may goe in any place and never be blamed. 
 See then you remembre your name, sir, Simplicitie, 
 And mee at every worde Sounde doctrine to be ; 
 Beware of tripping, but look in minde that you beare 
 Your fayned name, and what before you weare. 
 But who is this that hitherwarde doth walke? 
 Let us stande still to heare what he wyll talke. 
 
 ACTUS I. SCENA II. 
 
 NEW CUSTOME entreth alone. 
 New Custome. When I consider the auncient times 
 
 before, 
 That have ben these eyght hundred yeeres and more,
 
 SC. II.] HEW CUSTOME. 275 
 
 And those conferre with these our later dayes, 
 
 My mind do these displease a thousand waies. 
 
 For sure hee that hath bothe perceaved aright, 
 
 Wyll say they differ as darkenes dothe from light. 
 
 For then playne-dealing beare away the price, 
 
 All thinges were ruled by men of good advise, 
 
 Conscience prevayled muche, even every where, 
 
 No man deceived his neybour, and eke a thing full rare 
 
 It was to finde a man you might not trust : 
 
 But looke what once they promised, they did that well 
 
 and just. 
 If neighbours were at variance they ran not streight to 
 
 lawe, 
 Daiesmen 9 tooke up the matter, and cost them not a 
 
 strawe, 
 
 Suche delight they had to kyll debate and strife; 
 And surely even in those dayes was there more godlier 
 
 life: 
 
 Howbeit men of all ages are wonted to dispraise 
 The wickednesse of time that florished at their daies, 
 As well hee may discerne who for that but lightly 
 
 lookes 
 
 In every leafe almost of all their bookes ; 
 For as for Christ our maister, what hee thought of 
 
 Jewes, 
 
 And after hym th apostles, I think it is no newes. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Harke, Simplicitie, hee is some 
 
 preacher, I wyll lay my gowne, 
 He mindeth to make a sermon within this lowne : 
 
 9 Dalesman] i. e. umpires. So Spenser : 
 
 For what art thou 
 
 That makst thyself his daysman, to prolong 
 
 The vengeance past 1-*Faerie Queen. S. 
 
 A dayes-man, says Hay, in his Collection of North Country 
 Words, p. 25. is " an arbitrator, an umpire or judge. For as Dr. 
 " Hammond observes, in his Annotation on Heb. x. 25. p. 752, the 
 " word day, in all languages and idioms, signifies judgment. So 
 " Man's Day, 1 Cor. iii. 13. is the judgement of men. So diem dicere 
 " in Latin is to implead."
 
 '276 - NEW CUSTOME. [ACT. I. 
 
 Hee speaketh honestly yet, but surely if hee rayle at 
 
 mee, 
 
 I may not abide him, by the masse, I promise thee. 
 New Custome. Paule to the Corinthians plainelydoth 
 
 tell 
 
 That their behaviour pleased him not well. 
 All our forefathers likewise have ben offended 
 With diverse faultes at their time, that might have ben 
 
 amended. 
 The doctours of the churche, great faulte they dyd 
 
 fynde, 
 
 In that men lived not after their mynde : 
 First with the rulers as examples of sinne, 
 Then with the people as continuing therm : 
 So that of them both this one thing they thought, 
 That the people was not good, but the rulers were 
 
 naught. 
 
 But in comparison of this time of miserie, 
 In those daies men lyved in perfecte felicitie. 
 Saincte Paule prophecied that worse tymes should 
 
 ensue, 
 
 In novissimis venient quidam, saith hee, this is trewe, 
 Folowinge all mischiefe, ungodlinesse and evyll, 
 Leaning to all wickednesse and doctrine of the devyll ; 
 And spake hee not of these daies, thinke you, I praye? 
 The proofe is so playne that no man can denaye : 
 For this is sure, that never in any age before, 
 Naughtiness and sinne hath ben practised more, 
 Or halfe so muche, or at all, in respecte so I saye, 
 As is nowe (God amende all) at this present daye : 
 Sinne nowe no sinne, faultes no faultes a whit, 
 O God, seest thou this, and yet wylt suffer hit? 
 Surely thy mercie is great, but yet our sinnes I feare 
 Are so great, that of justice with them thou canst not 
 
 beare. 
 
 Adulterie no vice, it is a thinge so rife I0 , 
 A stale jest nowe, to lie with another manne's wyfe: 
 
 10 so rife] i, e. so common, in such plenty. S.
 
 SC. II.] NEW CUSTOM E. 277 
 
 For what is that but daliaunce ? Covetousnesse they 
 
 call 
 Good husbandrie, when one man would faine have 
 
 all. 
 
 And eke alike to that is unmerciful extorcion, 
 A sinne in sight of God, of great abhomination: 
 For pride, that is now a grace ; for rounde about 
 The humble sprited is termed a foole or a lowte. 
 Who so will bee so drunken that he scarsly knoweth 
 
 his waye, 
 
 OK, hee is a good fellowe, so now a daies they saye : 
 Gluttonie is hospitalitie, while they meate and drinke 
 
 spill, 
 
 Whiche would relieve diverse whom famine doth kill. 
 As for all charitable deedes, they be gone, God 
 
 knoweth ; 
 
 Some pretende lacke, but the chiefe cause is slovvth, 
 A vice most outragiouse of all others sure, 
 Right hatefull to God, and contrarie to nature. 
 Scarse bloud is punished, but even for very shame, 
 So make they of murther but a trifling game. 
 O how manie examples of that horrible vice 
 Do dayly among us nowe spring and arise? 
 But thankes be to God that such rulers doth sende, 
 Whiche earnestly studie that fault to amende ; 
 As by the sharpe punishement of that wicked crime 
 Wee may see that committed was but of late time. 
 God direct their heartes they may alwaies continue 
 Suche just execution on sinne to ensue ; 
 So shall be saved the life of many a man, 
 And God wyll withdrawe his sore plagues from us 
 
 than. 
 
 Theft is but pollicie, perjurie but a face, 
 Suche is now the worlde, so farre men be from grace. 
 But what shall I say of religion, and knowledge 
 Of God, whiche hath ben indifferent in cache age 
 Before this ? howbeit his faltes then it had, 
 And in some poyntes then was culpable and bad. 
 Surely this one thinge I may say aright, 
 God hath rejected us away from him quight,
 
 278 NEW CUSTOMS. [ACT i. 
 
 And geven us up whollie unto our owne thought, 
 
 Utterly to destroy us, and bring us to nought : 
 
 For do they not followe the inventions of men ? 
 
 Looke on the primitive churche, and tell mee then 
 
 Whether they served God in this same wise, 
 
 Or whether they followed any other guyse ? 
 
 For since Godde's feare decayed, and hypocrisie crept 
 
 in. 
 
 In hope of some gaines and lucre to win, 
 Crueltie bare a stroke, who with fagot and fier, 
 Braught all thinges to passe that hee did desier ; 
 Next avarice spilt all, whiche lest it should be spide, 
 Hypocrisie ensued the matter to hide. 
 Then brought they in their monsters, their masses, their 
 
 light, 
 
 Their torches at noone, to darken our sight : 
 Their Popes and their pardones, their purgatories for 
 
 sowles, 
 
 Their smoking of the church, and flinging of cooles. 
 Ignorauuce. Stay yet a whyle, and let us heare more 
 
 communication. 
 Perverse Doctrine. I cannot, by godde's sowle, if I 
 
 might have all this nation. 
 Shall T suffer a knave thus to rayle and prate? 
 Nay, then I pray God, the devyll breake my pate. 
 I will be revenged, or n hee depart away, 
 Ah, surrah, you have made a feire speake heere to-day, 
 Do you looke for any rewarde for your deede ? 
 It were good to beate thee till thy head bleede, 
 Or to scourge thee welfavouredlie at a carte's tayle, 
 To teache suche an horeson to blaspheme and rayle 
 At suche holie misteries, and matters so hie 
 As thou speakest of nowe, and rayledst at so latelie. 
 New Custome. What meane ye, sir, or to whom do 
 
 you speake? 
 
 Art you minded on mee your anger to wreake, 
 Whiche have not offended, as farre as I knowe ? 
 Perverse Doctrine. I speak to thee, knave, thou art 
 
 madde I trowe ; 
 
 11 or] i. e. before.
 
 SC, I.] NEW CUSTOMK. 279 
 
 What meanest thou to raile right nowe so contemp- 
 tuously 
 At the chefest secretes of all divinitie ? 
 
 New Custome. Verilie I railed not, so farre as I can 
 
 tell, 
 
 I spake, but advisedly, I knowe very well ; 
 For I wyll stand to it, whatsoever I sayde. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. Wilt thou soe ? but I will make 
 
 the well apaide ia , 
 
 To recant thy woordes, I holde thee a pounde, 
 Before thou departe hence out of this grounde. 
 
 New Custome, No, that shall you not do, if I die 
 
 therefore. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Thou shalt see anone, go too, 
 
 prattle no more, 
 
 But tell mee th' effect of the woordes whiche were sayde. 
 New Custome. To recite them agayn, I am not 
 
 afrayde : 
 
 I sayde that the Masse, and suche trumperie as that, 
 Popery, purgatorie, pardons, were flatt 
 Against Godde's woorde and primitive constitution, 
 Crept in through covetousnesse and superstition, 
 Of late yeeres, through blindnes, and men of no know- 
 ledge ; 
 Even suche as have ben in every age. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. Now, preciouse horeson, thou 
 
 hast made a lie ; 
 How canst thou prove that, tell me by and by. 
 
 New Custome. It needeth small profe, the effect doth 
 
 appere, 
 
 Neither this is any place for to argue here. 
 And as for my saying I holde the negative, 
 It lyeth you upon to prove the affirmative ; 
 To shewe that such thinges were used in antiquitie, 
 And then I can easely prove you the contrarie. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. Stand'st thou with mee on schole 
 
 poyntes ? dost thou so indeede ? 
 Thou hadst best to prove mee whether I can reede; 
 
 12 well apaide] well content. lu Psalm Ixxxiii. ver. 8. we have : 
 And Assur eke is well n^cuJ, 
 With them in league to be.
 
 280 ';.. -NEW CUSTOME. [A-CT I. 
 
 Thinkest thou I have no logique, in deede thinkest 
 
 thou soe ? 
 
 Yes, prinkockes, that I have ; for fortie yeares agoe 
 I coulde smatter in a Duns 13 pretelie; I do not jeste, 
 Better I am sure then an hundred of you, whosoever is 
 
 the best. 
 New Custome. Trulie I beleve you, for in suche fonde 
 
 bookes 
 
 You spent idellie your time and weried your lookes : 
 More better it had ben in bookes of holie scripture, 
 Where as vertue is expressed, and religion pure, 
 To have passed your youth, as the Bible and suche, 
 Then in these trifles to have doited so muche ; 
 Not more to have regarded a Duns or a Questionist, 
 Then you would the woordes of the holie evangelist. 
 Perverse Doctrine. What ! for a childe to meddle 
 
 with the Bible ? 
 
 New Custome. Yea sure, more better then so to be idle. 
 , Perverse Doctrine. Is studie then idlenes ? that is a 
 
 new terme. 
 
 New Custome. They say better to be idle then to do 
 harme. 
 
 - Perverse Doctrine. What harme dothe knowledge? I 
 
 pray thee, tell mee. 
 New Custome. Knowledge puffeth up, in Saincte 
 
 Paule you may see, 
 Perverse Doctrine. Yee, but what knowledge meaneth 
 
 hee ? tell me that. 
 
 New Custome. Even such knowledge as yee professe 
 
 flat; 
 
 For the truthe and the gospell you have in contempt, 
 And followe suche toyes as your selves do invent: 
 Forsaking Godde's lawes, and th' appostle's institution, 
 In all your procedinges, and matters of religion. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. By what speakest thou that, let 
 
 me here thy judgment? 
 
 New Custome. Not by any gesse, but by that whiche 
 is evident. 
 
 13 in a Duns] i. e. in the theological writings of Duns Scotus, who 
 obtained the title of Doctor Subtilis. S. 
 
 See also Note 25 to The Revenger's Tragedy, vol. IV.
 
 SC. II.] NEW CUSTOME. 281 
 
 As for the scriptures, you have abolished cleane ; 
 New fashions you have constitute in religion ; agayne, 
 Abuse of the sacraments then hath ben tofore, 
 Have you brought, and in nombre have you made them 
 
 more 
 
 Then Christ ever made : wherfore shew your auctoritie, 
 Or els have you done to the churche great injurie. 
 Th' appostles never taught your transubstantiation 
 Of bread into fleshe, or any suche fashion ; 
 Howe be it they were conversant every day and howre, 
 And received that sacrament of Christ our saviour. 
 You feigne also that Peter was bishop of Rome, 
 And that hee first instituted the seate of your Popedome : 
 But, perverse nation, howe dare you for shame, 
 Your fansies on Christ, and th appostles to frame ? 
 Perverse Doctrine. Marie avaunt, Jackesauce, and 
 
 pratling knave, 
 
 I will conjure thy cote if thou leave not to rave. 
 With all my harte, and a vengeance, come up and be 
 
 nought, 
 
 I see wee shall have an heretike of thee, as I thought. 
 These things were approved or thou wast born, dost 
 
 thou not see? 
 
 And shall be when thou art hanged, I warrant thee. 
 New Custome. Ere I was borne ! nay sure that is not 
 
 trewe, 
 For in comparison of mee they be but newe. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. Of thee ! ha, ha, ha ! what of 
 
 thee ? thou art mad. 
 New Custome. Surely in my sorte I am both sober 
 
 and sad. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Whie, how olde art thou ? tell mee, 
 
 I pray thee hartely. 
 
 New Custome. Elder than you, I perceive. 
 Perverse Doctrine. What, older than I! 
 The younge knave, by the masse, not fully thirtie, 
 Would be elder than I that am above sixtie ! 
 
 New Custome. A thousande and. a halfe, that surely 
 
 is my age : 
 Ask and enquire of all men of knowlage.
 
 282 NEW CUSTOME. [ACT I. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. A thousand yeares ? godde's pre- 
 
 ciouse sowle, I am out of my wittes ; 
 He is possessed of some deryll, or of some evill 
 
 sprites. 
 
 Why thou art a young knave of that sorte, I saye, 
 That brought into this realme but the other daye 
 This new learning, and these heresies, and such other 
 
 things moe, 
 
 With strange guises invented not long agoe * 
 And I pray thee tell me, is not thy name New Cus- 
 
 tome? 
 
 New Custome. Trewly so I am called of some, 
 As of suche as wante both witte and understanding, 
 As you do nowe, I knowe by your talking : 
 But woe be to those that make no distinction 
 Betweene many thinges of diverse condition ; 
 As naught to be good, and hotte to be colde, 
 And old to be newe, and new to be olde. 
 Wherefore these disceytes you dayly invent, 
 The people to seduce unto your advertisement, 
 While with tales you assay, and with lies you begyn 
 The truth to deface, and your credite to wyn. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. What is thy name, then? I pray 
 
 thee make declaration. 
 
 New Custome, In faith, my name is Primitive Con- 
 stitution. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Who ? who ? Prava Constitutio ? 
 
 even so I thought, 
 I wist that it was some suche thinge of nought 14 . 
 
 * The original copy reads 
 
 " With strange guises invented now long agoe." 
 but the sense seems to require the negative, which foimer editors 
 substituted for now. C. 
 
 14 suche thinge of nought.'] So Hamlet, " The king is a thing of 
 " nothing." See the Notes of Dr. Johnson, Dr. Farmer, and Mr. 
 S.teevens, on that passage, Edition of Shakspeare, 1778, vol. 10, 
 p. 336. This play on the words was very common. 
 Again, in Tlie Humourous Lieutenant, A. . S. 6. 
 " Shall then that thing that honours thee 
 " How miserable a thing soever, yet a thing still, 
 " And, tho' a thing of nothing, thy thing ever."
 
 SC. II.] NEW CUSTOME. 283 
 
 Like lettuse 15 , like lippes ; a scab'd horse for a scald 
 
 squire. 
 New Custome. Primitive Constitution I saide, if you 
 
 heare, 
 
 Suche orders as in the primitive churche heretofore 
 Were used, but not nowe, the more pittie therefore. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Ah, ah ! in good time, sir, well 
 
 might you fare, Primitive Constitution, 
 That is your trewe name, you say, without all delution. 
 Primitive Constitution (quodes stowe) as muche as my 
 
 sleeve, 
 
 The devill on him which will such liers beleeve; 
 For my parte, if I credite such an hearie mowle, 
 The fowle fende of hell fetche mee, bodie and sowle. 
 New Custome. Trueth can not prevaile where Igno- 
 rance is in place. 
 Ignoraunce. Peace, or I will lay my beades on thie 
 
 face. 
 
 Hast thou nothing to raile at but Ignorance, I trowe ? 
 New Custome. You may use me even at your 
 
 pleasure, I know ; 
 
 For Perverse Doctrine, that is rooted soe fast, 
 That it may not be changed at no heavenlie blast, 
 May not heare the contrarie, but beginneth to kicke, 
 Like a jade when hee feleth the spurre for to pricke. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Yee ! saist thou soe, thou mis- 
 creant villaine ? 
 A little thing would make mee knocke out thy 
 
 brayne. 
 
 Hence out of my sight, away, packing, trudge, 
 Thou detestable heretike, thou caytife, thou drudge ; 
 
 15 Like lettuse, lilte lippes."] " Similes hubant labra lactncas. A. 
 thistle is a sallet for an ass's mouth. We use when we would 
 signify that things happen to people which are suitable to them, 
 or which they deserve : as when a dull scholar happens to a stupid 
 or ignorant master, a froward wife to a peevish husband, &c. 
 Dignum patella opercnlum. Like priest, like people, and on the 
 contrary. These Proverbs are always taken in the worst sense. 
 Tal carne, tal cultello, Ital. Like flesh, like knife." Ray's 
 Proverbs, 1742, p. ISO.
 
 284 NEW CUSTOME. [ACT II. 
 
 If I may take thee, it were as good thou weare deade, 
 For even with this portuse 16 I will battre thy heade. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Thoughe I hang therefore, I care not, I, 
 So I be revenged on a slave ere I die. 
 Sacrament of God ! who hath hearde suche a knave ? 
 Who after hee had done at Ignorance to rave, 
 Perverse Doctrine (quod hee) is also rooted so fast, 
 That hee may be changed by no heavenly blast. 
 No, Goddess sowle, I warrant him, 1 will see him 
 
 rotten, 
 
 Before that my doctrine I shall have forgotten : 
 Wherefore it behoveth us some councell to take, 
 Howe wee the stronger our matters may make, 
 Against the surprise of this newe invasion, 
 Begunne of late by this strange generation, 
 Of New Custome and his mates l7 , meaning to deface 
 Our auncient rightes, and religion, and to place 
 Their develishe doctrine the Gospell, and soe 
 Our gaines to debate, and ourselves to undoe. 
 I thinke it best therefore that our sister Hypocrisie 
 Do understand fully of this matter by and by. 
 Let us go and seeke her, the case for to shewe, 
 That wee her good councell may spedely knowe. 
 
 Ignoraunce. I am readie ; in following I will not be 
 slowe. , [Exeunt. 
 
 " portuse.] Sometimes written portas, or portos, i. e. breviary. 
 Du Cange, in Portiforlum. " Portuasses, Mr. Tyrwhitt observes 
 ' (Notes on Chaucer, ver. 13061), are mentioned among other 
 ' prohibited books in the Stat. 3 and 4 Edw. VI. c. 10. And, in 
 ' the Parliament Roll of 7 Edw. IV. n. 40. there is a petition, that 
 ' the robbing of Porteous Grayell, Manuell, &c. should be made 
 ' felonie without clergy; to which the King answered, La Roy 
 ' s'avisera.'' 
 
 The portuse is mentioned in Green's History of Fryer Bacon and 
 Fryer Bungay, vol. VIII. p. 200. 
 
 " 1'le hamper up the match, 
 
 " 1'letake U\y pm-tace forth, and wed you here." 
 17 mutesJ] The 4to reads makes. The alteration by Mr. Dodsley. 
 Makes is the true reading. Make is used formate throughout the 
 works of Gower. Shakspeare likewise, if I am not mistaken, 
 employs it in one of his sonnets. S.
 
 SC. I.J NEW CUSTOME. 285 
 
 ACTUS II. SCENA I. 
 
 LIGHT OF THE GOSPELL and NEW CUSTOMS enter. 
 Light of the Gospell. Doubt you nothing at all, for 
 
 God will so provide, 
 
 Who leaveth not his elect to defende and to guide ; 
 That where ever I come suche grace you may finde, 
 As shall in each poynte content well your minde, 
 And admit that they call you New Custome, what 
 
 then? 
 
 Attribute that follie to the ignorance of men, 
 That followe their fansies, and know not the right. 
 Well, you knowe where I come once, the light 
 Of the Gospell, whose beames do glister so cleare, 
 Then Primitive Constitution in each place you appeare ; 
 And as else where you have ben, so do not mistrust 
 But in this place hereafter be receved you must. 
 
 New Custome, According to your nature, so do you 
 
 very well 
 
 To put mee in good hope, bright light of the gospell. 
 And seing you be trewe, I may in no wise 
 Misdeeme you the father or aucthour of lies : 
 For if trust to the gospell do purchase perpetuance 
 Of life unto him who therein hath confidence, 
 What shall the light doe ? whose beames be so bright, 
 That in cache respect all thinges else of light 
 Are but very darkenes, and eke terrestrial!, 
 So the light of the Gospell overshineth them all. 
 Wherefore with great comforte I receive your counsell. 
 With hartie thanks unto you, the light of the Gospell. 
 Light of the Gospell. Do so, and by faith, then shall 
 
 you obtaine 
 
 Whatsoever you desire, the scripture saith plaine : 
 For quicquid petieritis in nomine meo, 
 It must of trueth needes be understode soe : 
 That without faith, whatsoever wee fortune to crave, 
 Wee may not looke for it our desire to have. 
 Faith moveth mountains, so it be pure faith inrleede, 
 By fayth wee obtaine whatsoever wee neede :
 
 286 NEW CUSTOME. [ACT 
 
 Then faith shall restore to you more thinges then this, 
 Beleve me, Primitive Constitution, whatsoever is amisse. 
 But where be those reprobates, devoyde of all grace, 
 Who lately misused you, as you saide, in this place ? 
 New Custome. They be sodenly departed, I wote not 
 
 well whether, 
 
 For I left them right now bothe heere together : 
 They cannot be farre hence, I know very well, 
 Where they be, there is none if wee ask, but can tell. 
 Light of the Gospell. Do you knowe them agayne, if 
 
 you meete them aright ? 
 New Custome. Yea, sir, that I do, even at the first 
 
 sight. 
 Light of the Gospell. Then let us not tarie, but go 
 
 eeek them straite. 
 
 New Custome. At hande I am readie on you for to 
 wayte. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACTUS II. SCENA II. 
 
 HYPOCRISIE, PERVERSE DOCTRINE, and IGNO- 
 RAUNCE enter. 
 
 Hypocrisie. Perverse Doctrine, I say, take heede in 
 
 any sorte 
 
 That thou never beleve whatsoever they reporte, 
 Though they of the gospell never so muche do preache, 
 Every man will not credite whatsoever they teache. 
 They will not say, all beleeve, when they do not, I pro- 
 mise thee: 
 
 For that time will never come, in this world, trust mee. 
 Tushe, tushe, be thou busied in any case 
 To discredite their preachinge in every place. 
 If they teache them one thing, then teache thou. the 
 
 contrarie ; 
 
 And if that no scripture for thy place thou have readie, 
 In woordes that supplie, whiche wanteth in reason, 
 For ill thinges applied, somtime, in good season, 
 As of better eftsones do importe the wayte. 
 So they be well ordered by good pollicie and slayght.
 
 SC. II.] NEW CUSTOMR. 287 
 
 Howbeit their doctrine be sounde ; yet their vices fynd 
 
 out, 
 
 As this is a sloven, or this is a lowte : 
 Hee speaketh on envie, such a one for neede ; 
 This saith it in woordes, but hee thinketh it not in deede. 
 Upon greatter occasion they sticke not to rave, 
 Saying, this is a whooremaster,villaine, hee an heretike 
 
 knave, " 
 
 An extorcioner, a theefe, a traytour, a murtherer, 
 A covetous person, a common userer. 
 This hee doth for my mistresse his wyve's sake, by the 
 
 roode, 
 
 The beiter to maintaine and supporte thefrenchehoode. 
 Remember also, that it weare a great shame, 
 For thee for to have forgotten thy owne name. 
 Perverse Doctrine, of right, must the trueth so perverte, 
 That hee never let it sinke into any manne's harte, 
 As farre as he can, with diligence withstande, 
 For ever it behoveth thee to be readie at hande, 
 To strenthen thine owne partes, and disprove other 
 
 doctrine, 
 
 Whatsoever shall be taught that is contrarie to thine : 
 Still pretende religion, whatsoever you say, 
 And that shall get thee good credite alway, 
 Pleasing the multitude with suche kinde of gear 18 . 
 As with them to the whiche most enclined they are. 
 Square cappes, longe gownes, with tippettes of silke, 
 Brave coopes in the churche, surplices as white as 
 
 milke, 
 
 Beades, and suche like, all these beare the price ; 
 To these thinges applie thy attendant devise : 
 And other likewise, which well you do knowe, 
 Whiche all of great holinesse do set forthe a shewe. 
 Though some of them doubtlesse, be iudifferent, what 
 
 matter, 
 
 They furnishe our businesse never the latter. 
 For these of antiquitie, since that they do smell, 
 Our cause must commend right wonderful well : 
 
 } 
 11 fear] The 4to reads, grace. The alteration by Mr. Dodsley.
 
 288 - NEW CUSTOMS. 
 
 And these be the thinges wherof thou hast neede, 
 The better of thy wyl and purpose to speede. 
 Then geve thy attendance, and so be sure of this, 
 That I will be readie and never wyll misse 
 To assist thee still in workinge thy purpose, 
 To th' advauncing of thee, and depressing thy foes. 
 c Perverse Doctrine. Gramercie, good sister, even with 
 
 all my hearte, 
 
 For this your good councell ; and for my parte, 
 Whatsoever in this case may bee possibly donne, 
 I shall followe your preceptes as a natural sonne. 
 For the matter so standes if wee looke not well about, 
 That we quite perishe out of all doubt, 
 Unlesse some such way wee take out of hande, 
 Whereby wee may be able our foes to withstande. 
 And for this cause my brother Ignorance and I, 
 Lest it should chaunce us to fall into jeoperdie, 
 Through envie of our names in any manne's eare : 
 For this intent, I say, wee did diligently care, 
 Our names to counterfaite in such maner of sorte, 
 That where ever wee goe wee may win good reporte. 
 
 Hypocrisie. Of my faith that is very well done in 
 
 deede, 
 
 God sende thee a good wit still at thy neede. 
 And that in thy doinges such successe thou maist fynde, 
 That all thinges may chaunce to thee after thy minde. 
 My brother, if thou have ought else for to say, 
 Speake on, or that I departe hence away. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine* Great thankes for your councel, 
 
 and if yee chaunce to go thyther, 
 You may meete with Ignorance, to hasten him hyther. 
 
 Hypocrisie. Farewel he shall be here, you shall see 
 even anon. [Exit. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. Alacke, alacke, now my good 
 
 sister is gon, 
 
 Whose presence to enjoye is more pleasant unto mee, 
 Than any thing whatsoever in the worlde coulde bee. 
 Good occasion have I suche a sister to embrace, 
 For by her means I lyve and enjoye this place,
 
 SC. II.] NEW CUSTOMS. 289 
 
 Which yet I possesse as longe as I may, 
 
 And have heretofore many a faire day. 
 
 For since these newe heretickes, the devill take them all, 
 
 In all corners began to barke and to ball 
 
 At the catholike faith, and the olde religion, 
 
 Making of them bothe but matters of derision ; 
 
 Hypocrisie hath so helped at every neede, 
 
 That but for her, hardly were wee lyke for to speede. 
 
 For be our case never so nye driven to the worst, 
 
 Through her meanes by some mcane take no place at 
 
 the first: 
 Yet some meanes doth shee finde, by some meanes at 
 
 the length, 
 
 That her waies do prevai'e, and her matters get strength. 
 Shee can finde out a thousand guyles in a trice, 
 For every purpose a newe strong devise. 
 No matter so difficile for man to find out, 
 No businesse so daungerous, no person so stowt, 
 But of th' one she is able a solucion to make, 
 And th' others greate pcryll and moode for to slake. 
 And in fine, muche matter in fewewoordes to containe, 
 She can finde out a cloke for every rayne' 9 . 
 What person is there that beareth more swaie 
 In all manor of matters at this present daye 
 Throughout the whole world, though of symple degree, 
 And of small power to sight shee seeme for to bee? 
 Consider all trades and condicions of lyfe, 
 Then shall you perceive that Hypocrisie is rife 
 To all kinde of men, and of every age, 
 So farre as their yeeres them therein may geve know- 
 ledge : 
 
 Lo, here a large fielde, where at length hee may walke, 
 Who list of this matter at the full for to talke. 
 To declare of what power, and of what efficacie, 
 In every age, conn trey and time is Hypocrisie. 
 But I may not about suche small pointes now stande, 
 The affaires they be greater that I have in hande. 
 
 l ' J She can finde out a cloke for every raync] A Proverb. Tu Lai 
 nmntillo di ogni acquu. S. 
 
 vol.. i. u
 
 NEW CUSTOME. [ACT II. 
 
 Ignorance is the cause that I so longe tarie heere, 
 And beholde where the blinde bussard doth appeere. 
 Come on, thou grosse headed knave, thou whoroson 
 
 asse, I say, 
 Where hast thou ben sence wee departed to-day ? 
 
 Enter IGNORAUNCE. 
 Ignoraunce. Where have I ben, quod you? mary 
 
 even there I was, 
 Whereas I would have geven an hundred pounde, by 
 
 the Masse, 
 
 To have ben here; for never sence the day I was borne 
 Was I so neere hande in peeces for to have ben torne. 
 For as I was going up and downe in the streete, 
 To see if I coulde with Hypocrisie meete, 
 Beeholde afarre of I began to espie 
 That heretike New Custome, with another in his com- 
 
 panie. 
 
 As soone as they sawe mee, they hyde them apace 
 Came towardes, and met mee full in the face. 
 I am glad wee have fouude you then, quod this heretike 
 
 knave, 
 
 For you, and your fellowe, this day sought wee have 
 In every place, and now cannot you flie ; 
 And with these woordes both they came very nie. 
 Whereat I so feared, I may tell you playne, 
 That I thought at thathowre I should have ben slayne. 
 This is he, quod the varlet, of whom I toldeyou of late, 
 An enemie of the trewth, and incensed with hate 
 Against God and his Churche, and an inipe of Hypo- 
 crisie, 
 
 A foe to the gospell, and to trewe divinitie. 
 Thou lyest, heritique, quod I, and naught elles coulde 
 
 I say, 
 
 But brake quickely from them, and hither came away. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Who is hee that was with him, 
 
 Simplicitie, canst thou tell ? 
 Ignoraunce. Not T sure, but some call him the light 
 
 of the Gospell. 
 A good personable fellowe, and in countenaunce so 
 
 bright, 
 That I coulde not beholde him in the visage aright.
 
 SC. II.] NEW CUSTOM E. 291 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. Goddes preciouse woundes, that 
 
 slave! marie fie on him, fie ! 
 Body of our Lorde, is he come into the countrye ? 
 [ thinke all the heretiques in the worlde have taken in 
 
 hande, 
 
 By some solemne othe to pester this lande, 
 With their wicked scismes, and abhominable sectes, 
 Now a vengeance on them all, and the devyll breake 
 
 their neckes. 
 Light of the Gospell ! light of a straw ; yet what ever 
 
 hee bee, 
 I wold hee were hanged as hie as I can see. 
 
 Ignoraunce. What, have you hearde of him before 
 
 this > 
 Perverse Doctrine. Heard of him ? yee, that have I 
 
 often I wis. 
 
 If there be any in the worlde, it is this horeson theefe, 
 Beleeve me, Simplicitie, that will worke us the mis- 
 
 chiefe. 
 
 Hath that same new Jack gotte him suche a mate ? 
 Now with all my heart a pestilence on his pate. 
 I woulde they were both hanged fairely together, 
 Or elles were at the devill, I care not muche whether. 
 For since these Genevian doctours came so fast into 
 
 this lande, 
 
 Since that time it was never merie with Englande. 
 First came New Custome, and hee gave the onsay 20 . 
 And sithens thinges have gone worse every day. 
 But Simplicitie, dost thou knowe what is mine intent? 
 Ignoraunce. Tell mee, and I shall knowe what you 
 
 have ment. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Our matters with Creweltie our 
 
 friende to discusse, 
 And to here him, what counsell in this case hee will 
 
 geve us. 
 
 And this is the cause I have taried for thee, 
 Because that to him I would have thee goe with mee, 
 But see where hee commeth with Avarice sadly walking, 
 Let us listen, if wee can, whereof they be talkinge. 
 20 the onsay] i. e. the onset. S.
 
 292 NEW CUSTOME. [ACT II. 
 
 ACTUS If. SCENA III. 
 
 CREAVELTIE, AVARICE entre. PERVERSE DOCTRINE 
 
 and IGNORAUNCE tarie. 
 Creweltie. Nay, by Godde's harte, if I might doe 
 
 what I list, 
 
 Not one of them all that should scape my fist. 
 His nayles ai , I would plague them one way or another. 
 I would not misse him, no, if hee were mine owne 
 
 brother. 
 
 With small faultes I might beare as I sawe occasion, 
 And punishe, or forgeve, at mine owne discretion, 
 For I wote that sometime the wisest may fall ; 
 But heresie, fie on that, that is the greatest of all. 
 Every stockes should be full, every prison and jayle. 
 Some would I beate with roddes, some scorge at a 
 
 carte's tayle. 
 Some hoyse their heeles upwarde, some beate in a 
 
 sacke, 
 
 Some manickle their fingers, some binde in the racke. 
 Some would I sterve for hunger, some would I hange 
 
 privilie, 
 
 Saying, that themselves so dyed desperately. 
 Some would I accuse of matters of great weight, 
 Openly to hange them as trespassours streight. 
 A thousand mo waies could I tell, and not misse, 
 Whiche here in England, I may say to you, I have 
 
 practised ere this, 
 And trust by his woundes, Avarice, some agayne for to 
 
 trie, 
 How so ever the world goe before that I die. 
 
 Avarice. Now I will tel thee, Creweltie, by Godde's 
 
 sacrament I have swore, 
 It were pittie but thou were hanged before. 
 
 Creweltie. Ha, ha, ha; I had as liefe they were 
 hanged as I. 
 
 21 His nayles] i. e. God's nails. So afterwards " By bis wounds" 
 " His blood" without repetition of the sacred name by way of 
 introduction. S.
 
 SC. III.] NEW CUSTOME. 293 
 
 By the masse, there is one thing makes me laugh 
 
 hartely, ha, ha, ha. 
 Avarice. I pray thee what is that ? 
 Creweltie. What? ha, ha, ha; I cannot tell for 
 
 laughinge, I wold never better pastime desire, 
 Then to here adosen of them howling together in thefier ; 
 Whose noyse, as my thinketh, I could best compare 
 To a crie of houndes folowing after the hare, 
 Or a rablement of bandogges barking at a beare, 
 
 ha, ha, ha. 
 Avarice. I beshrew thy knaves fingers with my very 
 
 hearte, 
 
 The devill will reward thee, whose darling thou arte. 
 But, sirra, I pray thee, if it had chanced me in those 
 
 daies in thy handes to have fel, 
 I thinke, sure, thou wouldst have ordred mee well. 
 Creweltie. His bloud, I would I might have once 
 
 seene that chaunce, 
 I would have vext thee with a vengeaunce, for olde 
 
 acquaintance. 
 Avarice. Why so? I was alwaies thy furderer in 
 
 those daies, I am sure. 
 Creweltie. Yee, but what was the cause? thine owne 
 
 profit to procure. 
 
 For so that thou mightest vauntage and lucre obtaine, 
 Thou wouldest not sticke to bring thine owne brother to 
 
 payne. 
 dvarice, Ha, ha, ha; no, nor father and mother, if 
 
 there were ought to be got, 
 Thou mightest sweare, if I could, I would bring them 
 
 to the pot. 
 
 Whereof a like historic I shall tell thee, Creweltie, 
 In Englande, which my self plaied in the daies of 
 queene Marie 22 . 
 
 *z In F.n^lande, which mn self plaied in the daits of qu erne Marie.] 
 In Foxe's third Volume of Ecclesiastical History, 1631 , p. 799, is an 
 account of one Richard Woodman, who was burnt at Lewes, with 
 nine others, on the i!2d of June, 1557. The circumstances attend* 
 ing his apprehension resemble those abovementioned, and seem to 
 be^Uie same alluded to by the Author of this Morality.
 
 '294 NEW CUSTOME. [ACT II. 
 
 Twoo brothers there were dwelling, young gentilmen, 
 
 but the heyre 
 
 Had substanciall revenewes, his stocke also was faire ; 
 A man of good conscience, and studious of the gospell. 
 Which the other brother perceiving very well, 
 Perswaded him by all meanes, since he was so bent, 
 To be constant in opinion, nnd not to relent, 
 Which done, hee gave notice to the officers about, 
 Howe they should come with searche to find his brother 
 
 out ; 
 
 Who, when hee was once in this sorte apprehended, 
 Shortly after his life in the fier hee ended. 
 The other had the most part of all his lyvinge. 
 How saist, sir knave? is not this the nere way to 
 
 thrivinge ? 
 Creweltie. O unreasonable Avarice, unsaciable with 
 
 gayne. 
 Avarice. What, this ? tushe, it was but a merie 
 
 trayne. 
 Creweltie. For luker's sake his owne brother to 
 
 betraye ? 
 
 Hence, Judas, with these doinges I can not awaye 23 . 
 Avarice. I was ever with him, still readie at hande, 
 Continually suggesting of the house and the lande. 
 And yet to tell you the trueth, as in deede the thinge is, 
 Of my conscience I thinke the best part was his. 
 Creweltie. By Godde's glorious wounds, hee was 
 
 worthy of none ; 
 
 But thou to be whipped for thy greedie suggestion. 
 Avarice. Harte of God, man, be the meanes better 
 
 or worse, 
 I passe not, I, so it be good for the purse, ha, ha, ha. 
 
 23 I can not awaye.~] An expression of dislike or aversion used by 
 almost every writer of the times. Ben Jonson's Cynthia's Revels, 
 A. 4. S. 5. 
 
 " Of all nymphs i'the court, I cannot away with her ;" 
 
 Poetaster, A. 8. S. 4. " and do not bring your eating player 
 " with you there ; I cannot away with him." 
 
 Bartholomew Fair, A. 1. S. 6. " Good i'faith, I will eat heartily 
 " too, because I will be no Jew, I could never away irith that stiff- 
 " necked generation."
 
 SC. III.] NEW CUSTOME. 295 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. If you love the purse so well, 
 
 Avarice, as you say indeede, 
 
 Then helpe mee with your councell now at a neede. 
 Avarice. What, Perverse Doctrine, and Ignoraunce 
 
 too, were you both so neere ? 
 Wee had thought at our comming that no man had ben 
 
 heere. 
 Ignoraunce. Wee have ben in this place ever since 
 
 that you staide, 
 
 And wee have hearde also what so ever you havesayde. 
 Creweltie. Welcome bothe, on my faith, and I am 
 
 glad it was our chaunce 
 
 To meete with you here, Perverse Doctrine, and Igno- 
 raunce. 
 
 Whie, how gothe the worlde? my thinkes you be sad. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Mary, God have mercie, but there 
 
 is small cause to be glad: 
 
 For excepte you come speedely with your helping hande, 
 No doubt wee shall shortly be banished the lande. 
 Avarice. Whie so, Perverse Doctrine ? 
 Creweltie. I pray thee, let mee understande. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Whie so? you knowe howe since 
 
 herisie came lately in place, 
 And New Custome, that vile scismatique, began to 
 
 deface 
 
 All ourolde doings, our service, our rites, that of yore 
 Have bene of great price in the olde time before: 
 Our selves have been enforced almost for to flye 
 The countrie, or else covertly in some corner to lye. 
 Creweltie. By the Masse that is trewe, for I dare not 
 
 appeere, 
 Who so ever would geve mee twenty pounds landes by 
 
 the yeere. 
 Avarice. Ha, ha, ha; by Godde's foote, and I was 
 
 never in better case in my lif, 
 For covetousnes with the clergie was never so rife. 
 Wherefore I have nocauseinsuchesorttobegreeved, 
 Yet I would e I could tell, sirs, how you might be re- 
 leeved.
 
 296 - NEW CUSTOM E. [ACT n. 
 
 Perverse .Doctrine. Nowe, sirha, to mende up this 
 
 matter withall : 
 
 Preciouse God, it frettes mee to the very gall. 
 For now of late that slave, that varlet, that heretique, 
 
 Lighte of the Gospell, 
 Is come over the sea, as some credibly tell, 
 Whom New Custome doth use in all matters asastaie, 
 The most ennemie to us in the worlde alway; 
 Whose rancour issuche, and so great is his spight, 
 That no doubt hee will straightway banishe us quight, 
 Unlesse wee provide some remedie for the contrary, 
 And with speede ; this is treuth that I tell thee, 
 
 Crevveltie. 
 Creweltie. His woundes, hart and bloud, is he come 
 
 without any naye? 
 Ignoraunce. Yee verely, for with these eyes I savve 
 
 him to daye. 
 Creweltie. Now I would hee were here, I woulde so 
 
 dresse the slave, 
 
 That I warrant hee should beare mee a marke to his grave. 
 First I would buffet him thus, then geve him a fall; 
 Afterwarde I would dashe out his braynes at the wall. 
 Avarice. Holde your handes, you rude knave, or by 
 
 Godde's bodie I sweare, 
 I wyll quickely fetche my fist from your eare. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. Tushe, tushe, it availes naught to 
 
 chafen, or to chide, 
 It were more wisedgme with speede some redresse to 
 
 provide. 
 Creweltie. Redresse? nowe by Godde's guttes, I will 
 
 never staye, 
 Tyll I finde meanes to ridde the beast out of the 
 
 waye. 
 
 I wyll cuthim of the slampambes, I holde him a crowne,. 
 Where so ever I meete him, in countrie, or towne. 
 Ignoraunce. What order you will take, it were best 
 
 make relation, 
 
 For moe wittes, as you knowe, may do better than 
 one.
 
 SC. III.] NEW CUSTOME. 297 
 
 Creweltie. I wyll do then what so ever shall come in 
 
 my head, 
 I force, not I 84 , so the vyllaine were dead. 
 
 Ignoraunce. And of my furtherance, whatsoever I 
 
 may do, you be sure, 
 
 Your good state againe, if I can, to procure, 
 With my uttermost help to suppresse yonder rascall, 
 For by the masse, you papists I like best of all. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. Then can wee not doo amisse, I 
 
 conjecture lightly, 
 
 For where as al these come, Perverse Doctrine, Ava- 
 rice, Ignoraunce, and Creweltie: 
 
 There goeth the hare, except all good lucke goe awrie. 
 But, sirs, it is good, lest your names you discrie, 
 To transpose them after some other kinde, 
 Els bee sure with the people much hatred to finde. 
 As for Perverse Doctrine, Sounde Doctrine; for Igno- 
 raunce, Simplicitee ; 
 
 With these coulours, of late, our selves cloked have we. 
 Creweltie. What then shall J, Creweltie, bee called 
 
 in your judgement? 
 Perverse Doctrine. Mary, Justice with Severitie, a 
 
 vertue most excellent. 
 Avarice. What will you terme Avarice, I pray you 
 
 let mee heare? 
 Perverse Doctrine. Even Frugalitie, for tothatver- 
 
 tue it commeth most neare. 
 Avarice. Contente by his woundes, I, but wee must 
 
 look to our feete, 
 Least wee stumble in these names when so ever wee 
 
 meete. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Yea, see you take heede to that 
 
 in any manner of case, 
 So may you delude the people in every place. 
 
 Creweltie. Come then, it is time hence that away 
 
 wee departe. 
 
 Ignoraunce. Wee are redie to follow with a most 
 wyllyng hart. 
 
 24 I force, not I, ~\ i. p. I care not. Camden in his Remains says, 
 " I /(i'ce not of such fooleries." Shakspearc has the same phrase. S.
 
 298 NEW CUSTOME. [ACT III. 
 
 Avarice. But, sirs, because wee have taried so longe, 
 If you bee good fellowes, let us depart with a songe. 
 
 Creweltie. I am pleased, and therefore let every man 
 Follow after in order as well as hee can. 
 
 The first SONGE. 
 
 Well handled, by the masse, on every side. 
 Come, Avarice, for wee twoo will no longer abide. 
 
 [Exit Creweltie and Avarice. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Farewell to you bothe, and God 
 
 sende you successe, 
 
 Suche as may glad us all in your present businesse. 
 Now they bee departed, and wee may not tary, 
 For it lieth us upon all to bee sturryng, by S. Mary. 
 New Custome prevayleth much every where, 
 But, no matter, they bee fooles that do geeve him suche 
 
 eare. 
 
 Let old custome prevayle rather, it is better than new, 
 This all will confesse, that thinke scripture is true. 
 Doo as thy fathers have doone before thee (quoth hee) 
 Then shalt thou bee certayne in the right way to bee. 
 And sure that is better then to followe the trayne 
 That echeman inventeth of his owne proper brayne. 
 "Whichehath brought the worlde to this case, as we see, 
 That every day wee heere of some notorious heresie. 
 Yet all is the Gospell, whatsoever they say. 
 Well, if it chaunce that adogge hath a daye, 
 Woe then to New Custome, and all his mates, tushe, 
 
 tushe, 
 
 No man the Gospell will esteeme then a rushe. 
 What will that other heretik do, Light of the Gospel, I 
 
 pray? 
 
 Dare not once shewe his face more than we at this day. 
 But come, Ignoraunce, let us follow after apace, 
 For wee have abidden all to long in this place. 
 
 Ignoraunce. Let us go then, but by the masse, I am 
 
 vengeance drie, 
 I pray let us drinke at the ale-house herebie. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. Content in fayth, thither with 
 speede let us hie.
 
 fcC. I.] NEW CUSTOME. 299 
 
 ACTUS III. SCENA I. 
 
 LIGHT OF THE GOSPELL, NEW CUSTOME, PERVERSE 
 
 DOCTRINE. 
 Light of the Gospell. They be not this way, as farre 
 
 as I can see : 
 
 Unlesse they have hidden them selves up privilie. 
 For in presence of Light of the Gospel, and Primative 
 
 Constitution, 
 
 Undoubtedly such reprobates can have no habitation. 
 New Custome. Verely I do finde it so even as you 
 
 have saide, 
 
 For at your sight they all flie away as dismaide. 
 Wherefore I have great cause to geeve you thankes, 
 
 Light 
 
 Of the Gospell, that put thus my enemies to flight. 
 Light of the Gospell. Nay, they be my enemies also 
 
 that be enemies to you. 
 In so muche as your dealiflges be both vertuouse and 
 
 true. 
 
 For what is the gospell else, whereof I am Light? 
 But trewth, equitie, veritie, and right? 
 They be enemies to God too, and all Hers impure, 
 In so muche as he is called veritie in the scripture. 
 And the lying lippes with speakers of vanitie, 
 The Lorde him selfewill revenge with extremitie. 
 But see, what is hee that aprocheth so nie? 
 
 New Custome. Of whom I tolde you, it is Perverse 
 
 Doctrine verelie. 
 Light of the Gospell. Then let us a little steppe out 
 
 of the waye, 
 If haplie wee may heare what hee will say. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. A, sirrha, by my trothe there is a 
 
 vary good vaine: 
 
 Ignoraunce hath well lyned his cappe for the rayne. 
 I coulde have taried longer there with a good wyll, 
 But as the proverbe saith, it is good to keepe still, 
 One head for the reckning, bothe sober and wise, 
 Wherefore in this thinge I have followed that guise.
 
 30O NEW CUSTOME. [ACT III. 
 
 Ignoraunce is but a dolte, it is I that must drudge, 
 For neede (they say) maketh the olde wife and man 
 
 both to trudge. 
 
 Suche snares wee shall laye for these heretikes, 1 trust, 
 That New Custome, and his fellowes, shall soone lye 
 
 in the dust. 
 
 If Creweltie may prevaile, hee will never slake, 
 Tyll hee have brought a thousand of them to a stake. 
 Avarice hath promised to do what in him laye, 
 Who hath ben in greate credite with the worlde alvvay. 
 But if Ignoraunce may get place, there shall wee do well, 
 Then adewe all idle heretikes, and vaine talke of the 
 
 gospell, 
 
 For me Perverse Doctrine, this shall be my fetche, 
 To keepe constant the mindes of all I can cetche, 
 Lest these glosers sometimes they chaunce to heare 
 
 preaching, 
 
 And thereby be converted, and credite their teachinge. 
 For I trust shortly to bring it to passe, 
 That lesse knowledge of the Gospell shall serve by the 
 
 masse. 
 Light of the Gospell. Let us inclose him, that hee may 
 
 not flie, 
 Else wyll hee be gone when hee doth us espie. 
 
 impe of Antechrist, and seede of the devyll ! 
 Borne to all wickednesse, and nusled in all evyll 25 . 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. Nay, thou stinking heretike, art 
 
 thou there in deede? 
 Accordinge to thy naughtines thou must looke for to 
 
 speede, 
 New Custome. Godde's holie woorde in no wise can 
 
 be heresie, 
 Though so you terme it never so falsly. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. Yee preciouse whoreson, art thou 
 there too ? 
 
 1 thinke you have pretended some harme mee to doo. 
 Helpe, helpe, I say, let mee be gone at once, 
 
 Else I will smite thee in the face with my fist, by 
 Godde's bones. 
 
 25 nusled in all evyH~\ i. e. nursed, fostered. S.
 
 SC. I.] NEW CUSTOME. 301 
 
 New Custome. You must be contented a little season 
 
 to stay, 
 Light of the Gospell, for your profile, hath some thing 
 
 to say. 
 Perverse Doctrine. I will heare none of your preach- 
 
 inges, I promise you playne, 
 For what ever you speake, it is but in vayne. 
 
 Light of the GospeU. In vayne it shall not be spoken, 
 
 I know very well. 
 For God hath alwaies geven suche power to his gos- 
 
 pell, 
 
 That where ever, or by whom declared it bee, 
 It shall redounde unto his owne honour and glorie. 
 God is glorified in those whom hee dooth electe, 
 God is glorified in those also whom hee dooth rejecte. 
 The electe are saved, by that in the woorde they bee- 
 
 leeve. 
 
 But the other, because no credence they geeve 
 To the truthe, cannot bee but blameable, 
 Commytting a fault of all faultes most damnable. 
 For, Si ad eos non venissem, saieth Christ our Saviour, 
 If I had not come unto them with the worde, this is 
 
 sure, 
 
 In farre better case the unfaithfull had ben 
 For in this one respect they had had no sinne. 
 But where the trueth is, and yet there contemned, 
 Of Christ his owne mouth all suche are condempned. 
 Thus the gospell of Christ, be it received or no, 
 Sheweth the glory of God where so ever it go. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. I were contente to abide, and 
 
 knowe your pleasure : 
 But for businesse, at this time I have no leysure. 
 
 Light of the Gospell. What leisure ought a man at 
 
 all times more to have, 
 Then to endeavour bothe his body and sowle for to 
 
 save ? 
 New Custome. For that care, all other cares wee must 
 
 set aside. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. Say on then, for paciently I minde 
 to abide.
 
 302 NEW CUSTOME. [ACT III. 
 
 Light of the Gospell. Not to heare what is spoken is 
 
 onely sufficient, 
 
 But to put it in practice with sincere intent 
 What so ever is taught us concerning good doing, 
 Expressing it plainely in our vertuouse lyving. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. Whie what would you have mee 
 
 in living expresse ? 
 
 Light of the Gospell. Even the gospell, which is no- 
 thing else, doubtlesse, 
 
 But amendment of life, and renouncing of sinne: 
 With displeasure toward your selfe for the faultes you 
 
 were in. 
 Perverse Doctrine. How shall I displease my selfe in 
 
 sinne I would knowe ? 
 Light of the Gospell. In considering that nothing 
 
 bringeth man so lowe 
 Out of Godde's favour, as sinne : nothing setteth him 
 
 so hie, 
 As lothing the same, and calling to him for his mer- 
 
 cie. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. Verely I am sorie for my fore- 
 passed demeanour, 
 
 But that can not availe mee but little, I am sure. 
 Light of the Gospell. Why think you so? boldely 
 
 tell me your minde. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Because Godde's mercie is farre 
 
 enough behinde. 
 Light of the Gospell. Godde's mercie is at hande, if 
 
 you repent faithfully. 
 Perverse Doctrine. I repent my sinnes, and for them 
 
 am sorie hartely ; 
 But how shall I be sure mercie for to obtaine ? 
 
 Light of the Gospell. Credite mee trewly, for my 
 
 woordes are not vaine, 
 
 I am Light of the Gospell, and have full authoritie 
 To pronounce to the penitent forgivenesse of ini- 
 
 quitie, 
 
 So that in asking, you put your assurance to speede, 
 Then no doubt you have obtained mercie in deede.
 
 SC. I.] NEW CUSTOMR. .303 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. This assurance, how eometh it ? 
 
 declare, I pray you. 
 Light of the Gospell. In thinking that Christ his 
 
 woordes and promises are trewe; 
 And as hee cannot deceive, so cannot be disceived, 
 Which faith of all Christians must nedes be received. 
 Perverse Doctrine. What thing is fayth ? I pray you 
 
 recite. 
 Light of the Gospell. A substance of thinges not 
 
 appering in sight, 
 Yet which wee looke for, for so saincte Paule doth 
 
 define, 
 
 To the Hebrews, the eleventh chapter and the first line. 
 Perverse Doctrine. How to purchase this faith, I 
 
 would I could tell. 
 Light of the Gospell. Certeinly by mee also, the Light 
 
 of the Gospell ; 
 For fayth commeth by the woorde, when we reade or 
 
 heare, 
 
 As by the same sainct Paule it doth plainely eppere. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Geve mee leave then to embrace 
 
 you, I pray you hartely. 
 
 Light of the Gospell. With all my very heart, I re- 
 ceive you courtesely. 
 Perverse Doctrine. To thee I geve most humble 
 
 thankes, O God immortal!, 
 That it hath pleased thee, mee from my wickednesse to 
 
 call; 
 
 And where as I deserved no mercie, but judgement, 
 Yet to powre downe thy pardon on mee most aboundant, 
 Revoking mee from reprobates, and members of hell, 
 To win mee in societie with the Light of the Gospell. 
 Light of the Gospell. Stande up, there is some what 
 
 else yet behynde. 
 Perverse Doctrine. I wholly yelde my selfe to you, 
 
 use me after your minde. 
 Light of the Gospell. Perverse Doctrine you shall be 
 
 calde no more after this, 
 
 But Sincere Doctrine, as now I trust your trewe 
 name is.
 
 304 NEW CUSTOME. [ACT III. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine, By Godde's grace, while I live, I 
 
 will so endevour, 
 
 That my life and my name may accorde thus for ever. 
 Light of the Gospell. Then all wicked companie you 
 
 must cleane forsake, 
 And flie their societie, as a tode, or a snake. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. I abandon them quite, what so 
 
 ever they bee. 
 New Custome. Well, Sincere Doctrine, hearken also 
 
 unto mee, 
 
 Whom needes you must followe if you wyll do well, 
 Since you have imbraced the Light of the Gospell. 
 I am not New Custome, as you have ben misled, 
 But am Primitive Constitution, from the verie head 
 Of the church, which is Christ and his disciples all, 
 And from the fathers, at that time, taking originall. 
 By mee then you must learne, for your owne beheast, 
 And for all vocations what is judged the best. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. I receave you gladly, with thankes, 
 
 for your jentlenes, 
 At your handes craving earnestly for my trespas.for- 
 
 gyvenes. 
 
 New Custome. It is easly forgeven. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Now as touching my apparell, 
 
 what councell do you give ? 
 For I see well that in the constitution primitive, 
 They used no suche garment as I have on heare, 
 But fashioned it after some other maner. 
 
 New Custome. So did they trewly, I confesse it in 
 
 deede ; 
 But in suche things a man ought not to take so greate 
 
 heede, 
 
 For the wearing of a gowne, cap, or any other garment, 
 Surely is a matter, as mee seemeth, indifferent, 
 Howbeit, wyse Princes, for a difference to be had, 
 Hath comrnaunded the clargiein suche sorte to be clad ; 
 But hee who puttes his religion in wearing the thing, 
 Or thinkes him selfe more holly for the contrarie doing, 
 Shall prove, but a foole, of what ever condition 
 Hee bee, for sure that is but meere superstition.
 
 SC. I.] NEW CUSTOME. 305 
 
 Other thinges there be which have ben abused, 
 Tollerable enough, if well they were used : 
 Wherefore use your apparell, as is comely and decent, 
 And not against scripture any where in my judgement, 
 Light of the Gospell. No sure : for God waieth not, 
 
 who is a sprite, 
 
 Of any vesture, or outward appearance a mite, 
 So the conscience be pure, and to no sin a slave, 
 That is all which hee most gladly would have. 
 
 New Custome. Well, these having declared, and suf- 
 ficiently taught, 
 
 And I trust on your parte perceaved as they ought: 
 By your pacience, I mind to departe for a season. 
 Light of the Gospell. If your businesse bee so, it is 
 
 but reason. 
 New Custome. With great thankes unto you, Light 
 
 of the Gospell, for the jentlenes I have found 
 At your handes, as of due desert I am bound. 
 
 Light of the Gospell. The Lorde be your guide whi- 
 ther so ever you departe. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Humble thankes, sir, I yelde you 
 
 from the bottome of my hearte. 
 Albeit in this parte so small be my skyll, 
 That I may not performe them according to my wyll. 
 New Custome. The peace of God be with you both 
 for ever more. [Exit. 
 
 EDIFICATION entreth. 
 
 Where so ever Light of the Gospell goeth before, 
 There I Edification do followe incontinent, 
 As unto the same a necessary consequent : 
 For though the letter alwaies woorke not that effect, 
 Yet surely in the congregation of Gcdde's elect, 
 Where the light and force taketh place, there Edifica- 
 tion 
 
 Of all right must I make my habitation. 
 Endevour then alwaies mee to retaine, 
 So shall your doctrine not be gyven in vavne. 
 
 Perverse Doctrine. I receive you most gladly ; and I 
 
 truste in the Lorde, 
 That for ever hereafter wee shall well accorde.
 
 306 ' NEW CUSTOME. [ACT III. 
 
 Edification. I trust so. 
 
 Light of the Gospell. Fare you well, now you are not 
 
 alone, 
 
 For this small while I must needes begone. 
 Here, take at my handes this testament booke, 
 And in mine absence therein I pray you ernestly looke. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Your commandement shal be 
 
 done, with thankes for your councel. 
 Light of the Gospell. Then shall yee sure finde great 
 delight in the gospell. [Exit. 
 
 ASSURAUNCE entreth. 
 
 Edification without Assuraunce vayleth not muche. 
 Yet where they both do meete, surely there force is 
 
 suche, 
 
 That to Godde's kingdome they open the way, 
 The sweete place of rest, and perpetual joye. 
 For assurance in Christ Jesus without manne's further 
 
 merite, 
 
 Is fully sufficient Godde's favour to inherite : 
 Wherefore, Light of the Gospell willed mee soe, 
 That to you, Edification with all speede I should goe : 
 So that with Sincere Doctrine wee joyned in unitie, 
 Might in short time conduct him to Godde's perfect 
 
 Felicitie. 
 Perverse Doctrine. I embrace you, Assuraunce, that 
 
 blisse to obtaine. 
 Assuraunce. Then bee you assured, that you shall 
 
 not bee vayne ; 
 
 For if that Christe's woordes be faithfull and just, 
 Godde's perfect Felicitie is not far hence, I trust. 
 
 GODDE'S FELICITIE entreth. 
 Verily, where Edification and Assuraunce in one are 
 
 alied , 
 
 Godde's Felicitie is at hande, it may not be denied, 
 Which hee promiseth to suche as unfeinedly crave, 
 With assurance that certainely the same they shall have: 
 Which Felicitie in person heere I do represente, 
 Who by God himselfe to the faythfull am sent, 
 Prepared for them, as he plainely hath sayde, 
 Since the time that the worlde's foundations were laide :
 
 SC. I.] NEW CUSTOME. 307 
 
 Wherfore great thankes unto hym doubtlesse you owe, 
 That it would please him suche gifteson you to bestowe, 
 The most precious thing which manne's reason doth 
 
 excel!, 
 
 No minde can conceave, muche lesse tongue can tell. 
 Perverse Doctrine. Too him therefore let us geve all 
 
 maner prayse, 
 
 That beareth such affection to mankinde alwaies. 
 O Lorde, thine honour might be great in heaven so hie, 
 And throughout the whole earth thie everlasting glorie. 
 Geeve grace to thy people, that after this transitorie 
 Life, they maye come to thy perfect felicitie. 
 
 Edification. Defende thy churche, O Christ, and thy 
 
 holy congregation, 
 
 fiothe heere in England, and in every other nation. 
 That wee thy trewth may attaine, and still followe the 
 
 same, 
 
 To the salvation of our sowles, and glorie of thy name. 
 Assuraunce. 9G Preserve our noble queene Elizabeth, 
 
 and her councell all, 
 
 With thy heavenly grace, sent from thy seate supernall. 
 Graunt her and them long to lyve, her to raigne, them 
 
 to see 
 What may alwaies be best for the weale publique'scom- 
 
 moditie* 7 . 
 
 The Second SOSGE. 
 
 K Preserve our iwlile queene "Elizabeth, &c.] It was a custom at the 
 end of our ancient interludes and plays to conclude with a solemn 
 prayer for the King or Queen, the council, the parliament, or the 
 nobleman by whom the players were protected. Many instances are 
 produced by Dr. Farmer and Mr. Steevens, in their last Notes on 
 the Epilogue to Second Part of Henry IV. and many other might be 
 added. See particularly the conclusion of Like ivill to like, quoth 
 the Devil to the Collier, 1587. The longer thou livest the more afoole 
 than art. B. L. N. D. The storie of Darius. B. L. and others. 
 
 27 commcditie.'] interest. See p. 207.
 
 308 
 
 EDITION. 
 
 " A New Enterlude, no lesse wittie than pleasant, en- 
 titled Newe Custome ; devised of late, and for di- 
 verse causes nowe set forthe. Never before this tyme 
 imprinted, 1573. Imprinted * at London, in Fleet- 
 streete, by William Howe for Abraham Veale, dwell- 
 ing in Paule's Churcheyarde, at the signe of the 
 Lambe," 4to. B. L. 
 
 * The imprint is not upon the title page (which contains the 
 ' list of the persons and the manner in which the action may be 
 divided among four persons) but at the end of the piece. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 THOMAS WHITE, PRINTER, 
 CRANE COURT.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY, LOS ANGELES 
 
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