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JH ^ 6>C>, ^ IB 

fi-t ^ 






Ficsimlle, reduced by unu thin), fios original MS. In lUlfli'ld Libmry 










Sad patience that waiteth at the doore. — The Bee, 

Cenz qui ont M les pr^d^cessears des grands esprits, et qui 
ont contribnd en qnelqne fa9on k lenr Education, lenr doivent d'etre 
saay^ de Toabli. Dante fait vivre Bmnetto Latini, Milton da 
Bartas; Shakespeare fait vivre Lyly. — M^zi^RES. 

VOL. Ill 




















Gate of the Revels Office Frontispiece 





TITLES, &c 106 



„ „ „ „ „ (Notes) . . .327 


ENTERTAINMENTS (Introduction) 404 

„ (Text) 410 








Title-Page of Euphues, Pt. I Frontispiece 




CAMPASPE (Introduction) 30a 

„ (Text) 3^3 

SAPHO AND PHAO (Introduction) .... 362 

(Text) 369 

GALLATHEA (Introduction) 4^8 

„ (Text) 4^9 









Autograph Letter of Lyly (Feb. 4, 1602-3) . . Frontispiece 

THE PLAYS (continued): page 


ENDIMION (Introduction) 6 

„ (Text) 17 


MIDAS (Introduction) 106 

„ (Text) 113 

MOTHER BOMBIE (Introduction) 164 

„ „ (Text) 171 

THE WOMAN IN THE MOONE (Introduction) . . 229 

„ „ „ (Text). . . .239 

LOVES METAMORPHOSIS (Introduction) . . .289 

„ (Text) 299 


(Introduction) . . . .-. . . .333 

(Text) 341 


PAPPE WITH AN HATCHET (Introduction) . . 388 

,» >» >i )i (Text) .... 393 

A WHIP FOR AN APE (Introduction) .... 415 

>i » » (Text) 417 

MAR-MARTINE (part of) ' . .423 


POEMS (Doubtful): 

List of Sources 433 

Introduction 434 

Text 448 



MIDAS 519 






A WHIP FOR AN APE, &c 589 










often Prefented and Aded 

before §lueene Elizabeth, 

by the Children of her Ma- 

lefHes Chappell, and the 
Children of Paules. 


By the onely Rare Poet^of that 

Time, The Wide, Comicall, 

Facetioufly'§l^icke and 

vnparalelld .• 

loHN Lilly, Mafter 

of Arts. 

Decles Repetita placebunt 
LO N no N 

Printed by Wittiam Stanshy for Edward 
Blount. I (^ 3 2. 

[The six plays, given in this order of enumeration, are i. Endimion 
(for which play alone there appears no separate title-page in the half- 
dozen copies known to me). 2. Campaspe (with running-title 



' A tragicall Comedie of | Alexander and Campaspe '). 3. Sapho 
and Phao. ^. Gallathea, ^> My das, 6, Mother Bombie. Blount's 
edition first prints the words of the numerous Songs, though some 
of those mentioned in the dialogue or in stage-directions are still 
missing. It prints, however, from the later and more corrupt 
quartos, correcting but a very few of their errors and adding an 
immense number of its own, the majority of which have been 
reproduced in Fairholt's edition. Blount, moreover, misplaces several 
pages in the fifth Act of Sapho and Phao,] 

The Epistle Dedicatorie 

To the Right Honovrable Richard Lvmley, Viscount Lvmley of 

My noble Lord: 

It can be no dishonor, to listen to this Poets Musike, whose 

Tunes alighted in the Eares of a great and euer-famous Queene : his 

Inuention, was so curiously strung, that EUzaes Court held his notes 

in Admiration. Light A)rres are now in fashion ; And these being 

not sad, fit the season, though perchance not sute so well with your 

more serious Contemplations. 

The spring is at hand, and therefore I present you a Lilly, 
growing in a Groue of Lawrels. For this Poet, sat at the Sunnts 
Table: Apollo gaue him a wreath of his owne Bayes\ without 
snatching. The Lyre he played on, had no borrowed strings. 

I am (my Lord) no executor, yet I presume to distribute the 

Goods of the Dead ; Their value beeing no way answerable to 

those Debts of dutie and affection, in which I stand obliged to your 

Lordship. The greatest treasure our Poet left behind him, are these 

six. ingots of refined inuention: richer than Gold. Were they 

Diamonds they are now yours. Accept them (Noble Lord) in part ; 

and Mee 

Your Lordships euer Obliged and Denoted 

Ed. Blount. 

To the Reader. 

Reader, I haue (for the loue I beare to Posteritie) dig'd vp the 
Graue of a Rare and Excellent Poet, whom Queene Elizabeth 
then heard, Graced, and Rewarded. These Papers of his, lay like 


dead Lawrels in a Churchyard ; But I haue gathered the scattered 
branches vp, and by a Charme (gotten from Apollo) made them 
greene againe, and set them vp as Epitaphes to his Memory. 

A sinne it were to suffer these Rare Monuments of wit, to lye 
couered in Dust, and a shame, such conceipted Comedies, should 
be Acted by none but wormes. Obliuion shall not so trample on 
a Sonne of the Muses \ And such a sonne, as they called their 
Darling. Our Nation are in his debt for a new English which hee 
taught them. E{u)pkues and his England began first that language : 
All our Ladies were then his Schollers ; And that Beautie in Court, 
which could not Parley, Eupkueisme^ was as litle regarded ; as shee 
which now there, speakes not French. 

These his playes Crown'd him with applause, and the Spectators 
with pleasure. Thou canst not repent the Reading of them ouer : 
when Old John Ully, is merry with thee in thy Chamber, Thou shalt 
say, P ew (or None) of our Poets now are such witty Companions : 
And thanke mee, that brings him to thy Acquaintance. 

Thine. Ed. Blovnt. 

[The book has no colophon.] 

B 2 



The text followed in the Plays is that of the earliest quarto, in tyerj case 
except that of Campaspe, where only the second (thongh of the same year) was 
accessible. In later quartos corruption outweighs correction; and Blount's ed. 
1632, which Fairholt unfortunately followed, is the worst offender. Obvious errors 
are corrected from the earliest edition where the correction is found, and the 
reading of the editio princeps given in the footnotes, where also all variants are 
reported. Each footnote implies a collation of all editions. 

All modem insertions are enclosed in angular brackets ( ), all those due to 
preceding editors being assigned to them in footnotes. 

The numbering of Acts and Scenes is that of the quartos; the numbering of lines 
in a scene, and the arrangement of them in the verse of The Woman ^ tcl-j own. I hare 
localized the scenes, and noted at the same time any case of abrupt transfer. 

Old stage-directions appear here, though not invariably in the old editions, an- 
bracketed and in italics, the original spelling being always retained. Many, even 
for entry and exit, were omitted in the oM editions; some carelessly, some as 
inferable from the dialogue. In inserted stage-directions names are spelt as in 
the modem list of Dramatis Personae, to which the prefixes to speeches are also 
confomaed, any mistxdces of the quartos being noted. 

In speeches the general rale of the quartos, to print names of persons in italics 
and geographical or national names in romans, has been uniformly followed. 

As to punctuation, I have inserted, omitted, or transpK)sed stops with less scruple 
than in the Euphues^ retaining the old irregularity wherever possible without injury 
to effect, and reporting every change that could affect sense. 

The Bibliography, Sources, Date, and other matters appertaining to each Play 
are discussed in their several Introductions ; for general criticism of each, or of 
all, the reader is referred to the essay on Lyly as a Playwright, pp. 231-89 of 
the second volume. 

In the footnotes italics are reserved for the editor's comment. 

Qi QQ "" QnartOy Quartos : the small distinguishing numbers referring to the 
list of ' Editions ' prefixed to eadi play. 
Bl, -» Blount's Sixe Cffort Comedies (1632). 
Dil, r-. C. W. Dilke's Old Plays, vol. i or U (1814). 
/^ - F. W. Fairholt*s edition of Lyly's Plays {Library of Old Authors, 
a vols. 1858). 
Bak, - G. P. Baker's Lyly's Endymion (New York, 1894). 
s.D. = Stage-direction. 

' Rest ' after a symbol implies the agreement of all subsequent editions. 

' Before ' and ' after,' always of some addition, not of mere substitution or 

* Only,' of words entirely unrepresented in other editions. 

If a word cited from a line in the text occurs more than once in that line, it has 
a small distinguishing number affixed to it in the footnote ; thus, his ']. 

SINCE the sheets of my book have been printed off and bound, 
the following of the pieces which in Vol. Ill I have, under the 
title Doubtful, printed as being possibly (see pp. 438, 440, 442) or 
probably written by Lyly, have been found by Professor H. Littledale 
or myself to be the work of other hands, viz. : — 

No. I forms 11. 112-53 of an eclogue in Arcadia^ Bk. i, ad fin., 
added in 1593 foL, — ^not in 1590 40, and perhaps not certainly 
Sidney's. No. 63 (p. 498) is from Arcadia (1590 4<*), Bk. ii, f. 176V. 
Nos. 2, 3 (p. 449) are by W. Baldwine; No. 4 (p. 450) by John 
Higgins: No. 5 (p. 450), No. 22 (p. 452), and No. 54 by Robert 
Southwell : No. 57 is an extract from Spenser's Mother Hubberd^s 
Taie : and the English lines in No. 68 form the closing couplets of 
stt 120, 144, 145, 179, 213 of The Rape of Lucrece, I must have 
included both these last by some lapse of memory for which 
I cannot now account ; The Mirror for Magistrates ^ which contains 
Nos. 2, 3, 4, and Southwell's Poems, from which 5, 22 and 54 are 
taken, I had not searched, being misled by Harl. MS. 6910, which 
gave these books as the sources of other of its extracts. The key to 
the authorship of No. 64 is bound up, I think, with that to the cast 
of The Returne from Pernassus 



* 4*« Octobris 1 591 mystres Broome Wydowe Late Wyfe of William Broome 
Entred for her copies vnder the hand of the Bishop of London : Three Comedies 
plaied before her maiestie by the Children of Paules th one Called. Endimion. Th 
other. Galathea and th other, Midas . . . xviij<^.* Sta, Reg. ii. p. 596 (ed. Arb.). 

Q. Endimion^ \ The Man in the \ Afoane. \ Playd before the Queenes Ma-\iestie 
at Creentwich on CandUmas day \ at nighty by the Chyldren of\ Paules, \ Ai 
London, \ Printed by I. Charlewoody for \ the widdovte Broome, \ 1591. | 4to. A, 
A a, B-K 3 in fours. No col. (Br. Mns.) 

On Aug. 33, 1601 the play is transferred together with Campaspe, Sapho and 
Phao, Gallathea, and Midas from < mystres Brome Lately Deceased ' to George 
Potter {JSta, Peg, iii. 191, ed. Arb.); and on Jan. 9, 1628 is entered to Bloont as 
one of the Sixe Covrt Comedies {Sta, Peg, iv. 192). 

scond ed. In the Sixe Covrt Comedies^ Endimion is printed first, but follows the Prefiace 
ilonnt's). without any separate title-page. The Prologue occupies sig. a 6 verso, the play 

itself the sixty leaves of sigs. b-f in twelves, and the Epilogue G recto, the verso 

being left blank. 

Also given with Introduction and Notes in Dilke*s Old English Plays, 1814, 
vol. ii ; in Fairfaolt's edition of the plays, 1858, vol. i ; and separately with Bio- 
graphical Introduction and Notes by G. P. Baker (New Vork, 1894, 8vo). 


Argument. — Telms, whom Endimion has abandoned to follow 
a hopeless passion for Cynthia, disregards the dissuasions of her 
confidante Floscula, and plots with the witch Dipsas to bring Ijim 
into trouble. Cynthia grows cold to him (ii. 3. 2-3, iv. 3. 80-3), 
and he himself lying in despair upon a lunary-bank is charmed by 
Dipsas to a slumber of forty years. Cynthia, relenting, dispatches 
his friend Eumenides and others to seek aid ; and punishes some 
malicious words of Tellus by close imprisonment under Corsites. 
The latter, in love with his captive, allows himself to be engaged in 
a hopeless attempt to remove Endimion from his position ; but is 
himself attacked by fairies, pinched black and blue, and made 
a laughing-stock to Cynthia visiting the spot with her Court. The 
philosophers she has summoned cannot break the spell: but 
Eumenides, by double virtue of his truth as a lover and a friend, 
has learned from a magic fountain that the sleeper can be awakened 
by the kiss of Cynthia; and the remedy, coyly applied, proves 
successful Bagoa, Dipsas' maid, now betrays her mistress' wicked 
arts, and Tellus confesses her revenge taken upon Endimion, who 
thereupon acknowledges his passion for Cynthia. Her gracious 
allowance of a love she will not openly return restores him to youth. 
Tellus is pardoned and united to Corsites ; Semele, condemned to 
a year's silence for spiteful speech, breaks the prohibition to protest 
against her forced bestowal on Eumenides; but is won by her 
lover's offer of his own tongue to ransom hers: Geron, exiled to 
the fountain for fifty years by his wife Dipsas' intrigues, is reunited 
with her : and Bagoa, changed by her to an aspen-tree, recovers her 
true shape and finds a husband in the foolish braggart Sir Tophas. 
The latter's intercourse with three chaffing pages supplies a some- 
what tedious comic element, connected, however, with the main-plot 
by his ridiculous passion for the crone Dipsas, which is probably 
intended as the parody of Endimion's for Cynthia. 

Text and Bibliography. — The text here followed is that of 


the first and only known quarto, that of 1591. From the absence 
of Lyly's name on the title-page, and from the Printer's statement to 
the Reader that the play came -into his hands by chance after the 
PauFs boys were silenced, we may perhaps infer that Lyly was not 
personally concerned in its publication. Its errors are comparatively 
few, twenty-five in all; of which four (i. 3. 33, iii. 3. 31, iv. 3. 18, 
27) are of punctuation affecting the sense, four others (i. 3. 43-4, 
54, iii. 3. 29, V, I. 119) may be called serious, and the rest are 
merely orthographical and easily corrigible by the reader. 

Blounfs edition {Sixe Covrt Comedies^ 1632) corrects eleven of 
these minor errors, and adds the words of the Songs, and the Dumb 
Show before Act iii. It also makes thirteen corruptions, six of them 
important (i. 3. 31, ii. 2. 37, Dumb Show p. 39 * readeth,' iii. 3. 39, 
iv. I. 35, iv. 3. 148), four of which persist until the present edition. 

Dilke {Old Eng, Flays, vol. ii. 1814) corrects the text in fifteen 
places, including six of the eight important errors of the quarto, adds 
some needed stage-directions, and supplies a brief critical notice and 
a few notes : but he modernizes not merely the spelling, but also 
the idiom, in twenty-two places; makes a large number of quite 
otiose if slight changes, such as the substitution of the singular for 
plural of a substantive, the omission or insertion of ' a ' and ' the,' 
&c., and is further guilty of twelve bad corruptions, e. g. i. 3. 9, ii. 3. 
13, iii. 4. 118, iv. 2. 71, iv. 3. 130, v. 2. 87, v. 3. 240, &c. 

Fairholty in his collected edition of the plays, follows the text of 
Blount, making but one correction (i. 3. 54) and corrupting the text in 
twenty-nine places, of which i. 3. i, ii. 2. 141, iii. i. 17, 32, iii. 4. 19, 
105, iv. I. 50, iv. 3. 28, v. I. 47, 70, may be called serious. His 
notes, however, and his restoration of the mistake, iii. 3. 32, 'pari' 
for Tari,' which Blount had corrected, show that he had the quarto 
before him. 

Bilker {Lyifs Etidymion^ New York, 1894) emends the text in 
six places (i. i. 72, ii. i. 32, iii. i. 50, iv. 2. 36, 43, v. 3. 92); sup^ 
plies about a score of stage<lirections ; makes eight other changes 
in the text, of which six are needless, and two (iv. 2. 14, iv. 3. 83) 
injurious ; and, moreover, reproduces some of the corruptions in- 
troduced by Fairholt's edition. But Mr. Baker's Endymian^ with its 
careful notes and full biographical introduction, is, in spite of its 
modernization, its want of access to the quarto, and its unsound 
hypotheses in the biography, a valuable and scholarly piece of 
work, which I have found useful in writing my own life. 


Authorship. — Lyiy is not named in the entry in the Stationers* 
Register^ nor on the title-page of the quarto : but the performance 
of the play by the Paul's boys, its inclusion in the Sixe Covrt Comedies^ 
its euphuistic style, and about a dozen marked reminiscences of 
Euphues which it exhibits, leave us in no doubt about the author- 

Source : the Allegory in the Play. — In Lucian's short 
dialogue {Deorum Dial, 11) Selene draws for Venus a pretty picture 
of Endymion lying asleep on his cloak, after hunting, upon the 
mountain of Latmos, his darts slipping from his left hand while his 
right is thrown back round his head, and of herself advancing on 
tiptoe so as not to awake him, and — * but you know the rest,' she 
breaks off, 'and I needn't tell you more, except that I am terribly in 
love with him.' Brief allusions are also found in Pausanias v. i^ 
§§ 2—4; Hyginus Fab. 271 ; Ovid Art, Am, iii. 83, &c. But it is 
obvious that the materials afforded by the classical myth, the 
perpetual sleep and the kiss of Cynthia were insufficient for a play ; 
and what Lyly has done is to weave around this beautiful picture an 
all^orical drama of Court-life whose action has no place nor counter- 
part at all in the myth. The Moon-Goddess becomes a queen 
surrounded by her Court ; the Greek shepherd, her favourite courtier. 
As the double subject of this Court-allegory Lyly takes the two most 
salient features in the domestic history of the reign (i) the rivalry 
between Elizabeth (Cynthia) and Mary of Scotland (Tellus); (2) 
the Queen's perennial affection for, and temporary displeasure (in 
1579) with, Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester (Endimion) ; a sufficient 
warrant for the dramatic connexion of the two being supplied in the 
match actually contemplated between Mary and Leicester in 1563- 
1565. This double subject is supplemented by two subordinate and 
connected subjects (i) the quarrel between the Earl and Countess of 
Shrewsbury (Geron and Dipsas) ; (2) the relations of Sir Philip Sidney 
(Eumenides) with his uncle Leicester and his love Penelope Rich, 
n^e Devereux (Semele) ; while several other personages more or less 
prominent are introduced. With this Court-allegory Lyly attempts, 
without much success, to combine a physical allegory of the Moon 
and the Earth as heavenly bodies. 

The proper development of this view, suggested of course by 
Halpin's well-known essay OberotCs Vision (Shakespeare Society, 
1843), from which, however^ I have made wide departures, would 



occupy too much space in thb Introduction; I have, therefore, 
relegated it to a separate essay (see pp. 81-103), and merely append 
here my key to the cast, side by side with that of Halpin. 






Zontes I 

Sir Tophas 






Earl of Leicester 
Earl of Sussex 
Sir Edward Stafford 
Earl of Shrewsbury 


Stephen Gosson 
Queen Elizabeth 
Lady Sheffield (n^ 

Frances Sidney 

Lady Essex 



Earl of Leicester 
Sir Philip Sidney 
Sir Amyas Paulet 
Eari of Shrewsbury 
^fLord Burleigh 
(Sir Francis Walsingham 
Gabriel Harvey 
Queen Elizabeth 
Mary Queen oC Scots 

Lady Rich (nde Penelope 

Lady Essex, or Frances 

? Countess of Lennox 

Bagoa (unidentified) 

Dipsas Countess of Shrewsbury Countess of Shrewsbury 

For the rest — Dares, Samias, Epiton, Scintilla, Favilla; Pytha- 
goras and Gyptes — I have no suggestions to offer^ feeling it un- 
necessary to suppose that Lyly had an original in mind for every 
one of his minor characters, especially where they have absolutely no 
effect on the plot'. But Halpin professes himself 'convinced, from 
the importance of their names, contrasted with the nothing they have 
to do in the action, that the two latter, at least, were not introduced 
merely to fill up the theatrical pomp, without any more dignity or 
significance' {Oberon's Vision^ p. 75). 

Sir Tophas, it may be added, apart from his allegorical significance 
as Harvey or Gosson, is founded on the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus : 
while that part of Endimion *s dream (Dumb Show and v. 1. 104 sqq.) 
which relates to an old man offering a book with three leaves, is 
obviously adapted from the fable of Tarquin and the Sibyl, related 
by Aulus Gellius {Noct, Att, i. 19). 

Date. — It is obvious that the view taken of the Allegory must 
affect that taken of the date. My interpretation requires a date not 
eariier than September 14, 1584, when Shrewsbury ((}eron) made 
his moving appeal to the Privy Council ('The other old man, what 

^ Hence the note of interrogation appended to the two lords in my cast 


a sad speech vsed he, that caused vs almost all to weepe/ v. t. 3), 
and not later than the first half of 1586, for Sidney (Eumenides) 
died at Zutphen in September of that year, and Mary's (Tellus) long 
period of grace ended with her condemnation at Fotheringay on 
October 25. The commencement of Sir Amyas Paulet's (Corsites) 
custody of her on April 17, 1585, and the departure of Sidney and 
Leicester for the Netherlands (November 16 and December 10), 
after which Lyly is hardly likely to have undertaken the composition, 
suggest yet narrower limits. The title-page announces it as played 
on ' Candlemas day at night.' I believe the Candlemas in question 
to be February 2, 1585-6*, and consider the play to have been 
written between May and November of the preceding year. 

This date may find independent support (i) from that of its 
appearance in print. Whereas Campaspt and Sapho are published 
in 1584; and 'Titirus and Galathea,' i.e. Gallathea^ is entered in 
the Stationers' Register on April i, 1585 — it was not proceeded with 
because, as Mr. Baker shows, the inhibition on the Paul's boys' acting 
was probably removed near the end of the month — we hear nothing 
oiEndimion till the entry of October 4, 1591. The natural inference 
is that, at the time of these earlier publications and contemplated 
publication, it was not yet composed. Its description by the Printer 
in 1 59 1 as *the first' of 'certaine Commedies come to my handes 
by cbaunce,' the others being Gallathea and Midas^ need mean no 
more than that it was the first that so came to his hands on the fresh 
inhibition of the boys in 1590 or 1591. If Blount in 1632 prints it 
first among his Sixe Cavrt Comedies^ he probably does so because it 
is the best representative of that title : in his original entry of the 
volume (5/fl. Reg, January 9, 1627—8) the plays appear in the 
following order — ' Campaste, Sapho, and Phao, Galathea : Endimion 
Midas and Mother Bomby' — which I believe was that of their 

(2) Lyly's appointment as Vicemaster of the Paul's boys in 1585 

' In Chalmen* lists of payments extracted from the Council Registers (BoswelKs 
Malon^s Shakespeare, iiL 423-5 and 44a note) those made between June 26, 1582, 
and Feb. 19, 1586, are reported as lost. A similar gap exists in the fragments of 
the Revels Accounts recovered by Cunningham, from the end of Oct. 1585 to the 
end of Oct. 1587. The absence of any record of a Court-performance by the 
Paul's bojrs need not, therefore, constrain us, as it constrains Mr. Fleay {Biog, 
Chnm. ii. 41), to date the play as late as Feb. 2, 1588 ; nor do the Revels Accounts, 
p. 198, afford us anjrthing more precise for that year than that the Queen was 
spending that Christmas at Greenwich, and that the Paul's boys played before her 
some time ' betwixte Christmas and Shrovetid.' 


(see Life, vol. i. pp. 32 sqq.) would make Endimion^ in which the 
flattery of Elizabeth is more elaborate and direct than in any other 
play, a natural offering on receipt of that appointment 

(3) The amount and character of the euphuism which it exhibits 
indicate a date about the middle of Lyly's dramatic career. Con- 
siderably longer as it is than any other of his plays (occupying 61 pp.), 
it exhibits only eleven distinct reminiscences of Euphues^ while his 
earliest play, Campaspe (45 pp.), has thirty, and Mother Bombie 
(56 pp.), his latest prose play with the partial exception of Laves 
MetamorphosiSy only one or two. Of cases of single alliteration used to 
mark balance Mr. C. G. Child ^ counts an equal number with that in 
CampaspCy seventy, while he gives Mother Bombie only nineteen : of 
transverse alliteration Campaspe affords twenty-six instances, EntUmion 
twelve, Mother Bombie only one. And the general effect, which is 
hardly expressible in tabular form, is to my ear smoother, less con- 
strained to a perpetual antithesis, than it is not only, as Mr. Child 
allows, in Campaspe and Sapho, but also in Gallathea and Loves 

This last argument alone is fatal to so early a date as the autumn 
o^ 1^579) assigned by Mr. Baker in his Introduction to the play, and 
accepted without misgiving by Professor Ward^. The assignment 
is bound up with Mr. Baker's belief in an early connexion between 
Lyly and Leicester ; and he considers that the delay in the issue of 
the Second Part of Euphues^ which he supposes finished by July 24, 
i579» ^^c date of its entry, was due to the contemporary disgrace of 
Leicester. Endimion^ he maintains, was composed and acted during 
a brief return of Court favour — between the middle of September 
and some date before November 1 2, when a letter of Leicester to 
Burleigh shows him to be again in disgrace — ^as an attempt on the 
favourite's part to present a softened view and excuse of his recent 
marriage to Lady Elssex ; and was one of those ' devises to Receave 
the Freenche' whose preparation involved Tylney in so much 
* botehyer ' to and from Greenwich during that autumn *. But not 
only does it seem little likely that Leicester would consent to 
represent his wife, who is ex hypothesi represented by Tellus, as a poor 
jealous dupe, the mere cloak of his passion for the Queen ; but it 

is vastly improbable that either Lyly or Leicester would dream of 


' See his Table, quoted above, vol. ii. p. 289. 

' English Dramatic Literature (ed. 1^), i. a89--9a. 

* Baker's Endymion^ pp. xxziii, IxzxW, zci, clix, &c, and Revels Accounts, 

pp. 153. »59- 


dramatizing this delicate matter before the whole Court, at a time 
when the wound to the Queen's feelings was still fresh. The whole 
idea of a connexion between Leicester and Lyly rests on the most 
shadowy foundations. If it existed, would not Leicester have been 
eulogized along with Burleigh in Euphue^ Giassefor Europe? This 
eulogy, together with the dedication to Burleigh's son-in-law Oxford, 
as well as Lyly's letter of 1582, are enough to show that Lyly was 
not yet attached to the faction of Leicester, to whom Burleigh was 
generaUy in (^position. The delay in publishing Euphues and Ms 
England was due, not to any disgrace of Leicester, but simply to its 
unfinished state, as is clear from the allusion in the middle of the 
book (vol. ii. p. 99, 1. 1 7) to Gosson's Ephemerides ofPhialo^ which was 
not entered in the Stationer^ Register \!C\ November 7, 1579: nor, if 
Endimion had been then written, would the youthful Lyly be likely to 
ignore it as he does in his Dedication, voL ii. p. 4, 1. 11 'I haue 
brought into the worlde two children,' namely, the First and Second 
Parts of Euphues, Lastly, to suppose that an allegory so long and 
elaborate as that of Endimion could be planned and composed by an 
inexperienced dramatist of twenty-five, and then rehearsed and per- 
formed, all in the narrow space of two or three weeks between 
Leicester's partial restoration to favour in September and the close 
of Tylney's rehearsing-work early in October, is to suppose what 
is practically impossible \ 

I date the composition, then. May to November, 1585, and the 
first performance at Court February 2, 1586. 

Imitations. — The relation and character of Sir Tophas and 
Epiton are closely followed by Shakespeare in those of Armado and 
Moth, and Sir Tophas pairing with Bagoa is paralleled by Armado's 
declension upon Jaquenetta. The pinching of Corsites by fairies is 
borrowed for the punishment of Falstaff in the Merry Wives^ Act v. 

' Far less thooghtfiil, though more fortunate, was Mr. Joel Spingam*s attempt, 
is a letter to the Athenaeum of Aag. 4, 1894, to show that the play was written 
in 1586, because seven years* waiting is three times alluded to (ii. i. 14, iii. 4. 
54, vr, 2. 114), and, as Tylney had been appointed Master of. the Revels in 
1579, Lyly had been waiting for the post since that date. In my answer {A then, 
Aug. 11) I pointed out that * seven years* is probably merely a conventional 
e xpr e s s i on for a long period, and that if Lyly was only ' entertained her Majesties 
leruant ' in 1579 his ' despair* at Tylney's appointment in that year was unreason- 
able. It now appears, since the first petition speaking of ten years' service dates 
in 1595 (see Life, vol. i. p. 33), that he did not even receive the vague promise 
of the Mastership till 1585. 


See also the Essay in vol. ii. pp. 297-8 : the allegory of Oberon's 
speech in Midsummer Nighfs Dream is largely suggested by our 
play : and Dogberry and his fellows are indebted to the Watch, iv. 2, 
pp. 57-8. 

Place and Time. — I have marked the localities of the several 
scenes, though Mr. Baker justly remarks on the difficulty of doing 
so satisfactorily. Either no hint is given, or it is contradicted by 
something else : thus Corsites speaks in iv. 3 of removing Endimion 
' from this Caban,' though he fell asleep in ii. 3 on the lunary-bank 
(but see note ad loc.) ; and later on (in iv. 3, line 54) Cynthia and her 
courtiers speak as if on their way to the lunary-bank, while a few 
lines later (1. 7 5) they are evidently beside it. Mr. Baker concludes that 
' Lyly's audience was to follow in imagination where he led : if it was 
important to know the place he gave a hint of it ; if it was not, no 
one bothered about it ; he could shift his place at will, even in the 
same scene.' This is quite the correct account of the matter : such 
imaginary transfer in the middle of a scene is pretty frequent in the 
pre-Shakespearean drama, where there was seldom any definite 
scenery to localize the stage as one particular spot in the first 
instance. Lyly employs it at least four times in his earliest play 
Campaspe^ though but rarely afterwards (see for fuller notice, and 
instances from other dramatists, the essay on *• Lyly as a Playwright,' 
vol. ii. p. 269). Other examples of an ideal treatment of Place in the 
present play are found in the fact that, though Tellus is imprisoned 
in ' the Castle in the Deserte,' p. 41, she can dispatch Corsites to 
the lunary-bank in the neighbourhood of the Court, and witness his 
unavailing efforts from her prison, p. 54; while in v. 3, p. 72, the 
lords who have just left Cynthia speak of bringing Tellus, who is 
apparently still at the castle, immediately before her, and do so bring 
her forty lines later. Again, though Eumenides has been absent 
from Court so long that Cynthia fears he is dead, p. 60, and Geron 
alludes to the tedious journey from the fountain back to Court, p. 52, 
yet Epiton, iv. 2. 67, speaks of it as ' hard by,' i.e. near the lunary-bank, 
whose guardians enter just afterwards. 

A similar confusion hangs over his. treatment of Time. In regard 
to Endimion's slumber, Dilke noted the inconsistency between the 
'almost these twentie yeeres,' of iii. 4. 19, axid the *fortie yeeres,' 
of v. I. 50. This lapse of twenty years during the journey back 
to Court is contradicted by the fact that Geron, banished as a young 


man, has in iii. 4. 5 been at the fountain * these fiftie Winters/ while 
in y. 3. 21, Dipsas has practised the wicked arts that caused his 
exile, not seventy, but only * almost these fiftie yeeres.' There is the 
further inconsistency that, while the actual lapse of a long period is 
marked by the growth of the twig supporting Endimion's head into 
a tree, v. i. 51-2, none of the characters except Endimion have 
aged at all. Cynthia, of course, was secure of an immortality of 
youth and beauty; but the pages still possess their pagehood and 
impudence, Semele's charms are still the object of ardent passion, 
and Tellus has lived but 'few yeres,' v. 3. 57. Clearly we must 
recognize a treatment of Time, as of Place, quite arbitrary. Where 
it is necessary to indicate intervals for a special effect, Lyly does so ; 
but otherwise the play proceeds on the general assumption that the 
events are compressed into a few days. When it suits his purpose, 
the characters are sent on journeys to places far distant ; but other 
passages show that, for stage-purposes, these same places, the magic 
fountain and the castle in the desert, are conceived as lying in the 
immediate neighbourhood of the Court. In the present case these 
inconsistencies, more marked than in any other play, may be 
adopted as appropriate to his 'tale of the Man in the Moone,' 
which, as the Prologue confesses, may *seeme ridiculous for the 
method ' : but his general practice exhibits something of the same 
inconsistency, arguing not, I think, an incomplete intelligence of 
the dramatic Unities, but an indecision as to whether they should 
or should not be observed. Taking them as his working basis, he 
contradicts them when he feels inclined, without care to make his 
contradiction complete ; and so this play, and his work considered 
§s a whole, occupies an intermediate position between classical rule 
supported by contemporary precedent and that absolute freedom 
exercised by the later Romanticists. 


The Man in the 


Playd before the Queenes Ma- 

ieftie at Greencwich on Candlemas day 

at nighi, by the Chyldren of 



Printed by I. Charlewood, for 

the widdowe Broome. 

J 59 1. 

♦ The Printer to the 

Since the Plaies in Paules were dissolued, there are certaine 
Commedies come to my handes by chaunce, which were 
presented before her Maiestie at seuerall times by the children of 
Paules. This is the first, and if in any place it shall dysplease, 
I will take more paines to perfect the next. I referre it to thy 5 
indifferent iudgement to peruse, whom I woulde willinglie please. 
And if this may passe with thy good lyking, I will then goe forwarde 
to publish the rest. In the meane time, let this haue thy good 
worde for my better encouragement. 

Farewell. 10 

I This address is found in the Quarto only 


Endimion, in lave with Cynthia. 
EuMENiDES, his friend, in love with Semeie, 
— CORSiTES, a Captain^ in lave with Tellus, 

Panelion,|^^^^ ^fCynthia^s Court. 

ZONTES, J "^ ^ 

Pythagoras, a Greek Philosopher. 
Gyptes, an Egyptian Soothsayer. 
Geron, an old man, husband to Dipsas. 
Sir Tophas, a foolish braggart. 
Dares, Page to Endimion. 
Samias, Page to Eumenides. 
Epiton, Page to Sir Tophas. 
Master Constable, 
ist and 2nd Watchmen. 
Cynthia, the queen. 

'ellus, in love with Endimion. ' 
Floscula, her attendant and confidante. 
Semele, beloved by Eumenides.* 
DiPSAS, an old Enchantress. 
Bagoa, her Servant, 

Watchmen, Fairies, three Ladies and an old Man in the 
Dumb Show. 

Scene. — Chiefly at Cynthia^ s Court.") 

Dram. Pers.] list first suppL Dil. 4 Panelion] Pantalion DiL F. and 

so in Act iii. sc. i, 1. 50 Bl. Dil. F. : Pantlion in Q, But later (iv. 3 ; v. i and .^) 
always Panelion all eds. : and so Baker here and iii. i lo-i i / reverse the 

services of the two Pages , as given by Dil, F. Bak. See note 

\ Maids in waiting at the Court. 

c 2 




A/fOst high and happy PHncesse^ we must tell you a tale of the 

-^ ^^ Man in the Moone^ which if it seeme ridiculous for the method^ 

or superfluous for the matter^ or for the meanes incredible^ for three 

faultes wee can make but one excuse. It is a tale of the Man in the 


// wc^ forbidden in olde time to dispute of Chymera^ because it 
was a fiction : we hope in our times none will apply pc^ times, because 
they are fancies ; for there liueth none vnder the Sunne, that knowes 
what to make of the Man in the Moone, Wee present neither Comedie^ 
nor Tragedie^ nor storie, nor anie things but that whosoeuer heareth ,q 
may say thiSy Why heere is a tale of the Man in the Moone, 

8 know Bak, 



SCiENA Prima.— <Gar^«j of Cynthia's Palace,) 

{Enter) Endimion. Eumenides. 

End. T Finde Eumenides in all thinges both varietie to content, 
X & satietie to glut, saiuing onelie in my affections, which 
are so stayed^ and withall so statelie, that I can neither satis-fie my 
hart with loue, nor mine eyes with wonder. My thoughts Eumenides 
5 are stitched to the starrest which beeing as high as I can see, thou 
maist imagin how much higher they are then I can reach. 

Eum, If you be enamored of any thing aboue the Moone, your 

thoughts are ridiculous, for that thinges immortall are not subiect to 

affections; if allured or enchaunted with these transitory things 

lo vnder the Moone(^you shew your selfe sencelesse, to attribute such 

lofty tytles, to such lowe trifles. 

End, My loue is placed neither vnder the Moone nor aboue. 
Eum, I hope you be not sotted upon the man in the Moone. 
End. No ; but setled, eyther to die, or possesse the Moone 
15 herselfe. 

Eum. Is Endimion mad, or doe I mistake? doe you loue the 
Moone Endimion f 

End. Eumenides^ the Moone. 

Eum. There was neuer any so peeuish to imagin the Moone 

20 eyther capable of affection, or shape of a Mistris : for as impossible 

it is to make loue fit to her humor which no man knoweth^as a coate 

to her forme, which continueth not in one bignesse whilst she is 

measuring. Cease of Endimion to feed so much vpon fancies. 

Actus Primus . . . Palace] the division into Acts and Scenes is that of the 
oldest cmd all succeeding editions. The localities of the severed scenes are first 
marked in this 1 1 lowe] lone all eds. 2 1 sit Bl. F. the latter giving the true 
reading in the notes aa-3 continneth . . . measuring, and just behw melancholy 
. . . purged, are printed by Bl, in italics 33 Cease of Q Bl. F. : Cease Dil. : 

Cease off Bak. 

23 ENDIMION [act I 

That melancholy blood must be purged, which draweth you to 
a dotage no lesse miserable then monstrous. 35 

End, My thoughts haue no vaines, and yet vnlesse they be let 
blood, I shall perrish. 

Eum. But they haue vanities, which beeing reformed, you may be 

End, O fayre Cynthia^ why doe others terme thee vnconstant, yr 
whom I haue euer founde vnmoueable ? Iniurious tyme, corrupt 
manners, vnkind men, who finding a constancy not to be matched 
in my sweete Mistris, haue christned her with the name of wauering, 
waxing, and waning. Is shee inconstant that keepeth a setled 
course, which since her first creation altereth not one minute in her 55 
mouing? There is nothing thought more admirable or commend- 
able in the sea^ then the ebbing and flowing ; and shall the Moone, 
from whom the Sea taketh this vertue, be accounted fickle .for 
encreasing, & decreasing ? Flowers in theyr buds are nothing worth 
till they be blowne, nor blossomes accounted till they be ripe 40 
fruite : and shal we then say they be changeable, for that they growe 
from seedes to leaues, from leaues to buds^ from buds to the3nr 
perfection ? then, why be not twigs that become trees, children that 
become men, and Mornings that grow to Euenings, termed waueringi 
for that they continue not at one stay ? I, but Cynthia^ being in her 45 
fulnes, decayeth^ as not delighting in her greatest beautie^ or withering 
when she should be most honoured. When mallice cannot obiect 
any thing, folly will, making that a vice, which is the greatest vertue. 
What thing (my Mistris excepted) being in the pride of her beauty, 
& latter minute of her age, that waxeth young againe? Tell meeso 
Eumenides^ what is hee that hauing a Mistris of ripe yeeres, & infinite 
vertues, great honors, and vnspeakeable beauty, but woulde wish 
that shee might grow tender againe ? getting youth by yeeres, and 
neuer decaying beauty by time, whose fayre face, neyther the 
Summers blase can scorch, nor Winters blast chappe, nor the 55 
numbring of yeeres breede altering of colours. Such is my sweete 
Cynthia^ whom tyme cannot touch, because she is diuine, nor will 
offend because she is delicate. O Cynthia^ if thou shouldest alwaies 
continue at thy fulnes, both Gods and men woulde conspire to 
rauish thee. But thou to abate the pride of our affections, dost 60 
detract from thy perfections, thinking it sufficient, if once in a month 

31 immoveable Dil, Bak, 50 that om. DiL 56 colour Dil, 

sc. i] ENDIMION 23 

we enioy a glymse of thy maiesde^ and then, to encrease our greefes, 
thou doost decrease thy glemes, comming out of thy royall robes, 
wherewith thou dazelist our eyes, downe into thy swath dowtes, 

65 b^;uiling our eyes. And then — 

Eum, Stay there Endimion^ thou that committest Idolatry, wilt 
straight blaspheme, if thou be suffered. Sleepe woulde doe thee 
more good then speech : the Moone heareth thee not, or if shee doe, 
r^;ardeth thee not 

70 End. Vaine Eumetddts^ whose thoughts neuer grow higher th6 
the crowne of thy head. Why troublest thou me, hauing neither 
heade to conceiue the cause of my loue, or a hart to receiue the 
impressions ? followe thou thine owne fortunes, which creepe on the 
earth, & suffer me to flye to mine, whose fall though it be desperate, 

75 yet shall it come by daring. Farewell. {Exit") 

Eum. Without doubt Endimion is bewitched, otherwise in a man 

of such rare vertues there could not harbor a minde of such 

extreame madnes. I wil follow him, least in this fancie of the 1 

Moone, he depriue himselfe of the sight of the Sunne. Exit 

SCiENA Secunda.-<754^ same,) 

{Enter) Tellus. Floscula. 

TeUus. Trecherous and most periurde Endimon, is Cynthia the 
sweetnes of thy life, and the bitternes of my death ? What reuenge 1 
may be deuised so full of shame, as my thoughts are replenished ^ 
■ with mallice ? Tell me Floscula if falsenes in loue can possibly be 
i punished with extremitie of hate. As long as sworde, fire, or poison 
may be hyred, no traytor to my loue shall Hue vnreuenged. Were 
thy oathes without number, thy kisses without measure, thy sighes 
without end, forged to deceiue a poore credulous virgin, whose 
simplicity had beene worth thy fauour and better fortune ? If the 
10 Gods sitte vnequall beholders of iniuries, or laughers at Louers / - 
deceipts^ then let mischiefe be as well forgiuen in women^ as periurie 
winked at in men. 

Flosc. Madame, if you woulde compare the state of Cynthia with 
your owne, and the height oi Endimion his thoughts, with the meane- 

67-8 Sleepe . . . speech italicized BL 73 a om, Dil, Bak. the latter reading 

nor heart 73 impreision Dil, s. D. [Exit] suppl, Dil, 14 Eadimioa 

his] EndymioQ s Bak, 

24 ENDIMION [act i 

nesse of your fortune, you would rather yeeld then contende, being 15 
betweene you and her no comparison, and rather wonder then rage 
at the greatnes of his minde, beeing affected with a thing more then 

iTellus, No comparison Floscula f and why so ? is not ray beauty 
diuine^ whose body is decked with faire flowers, and vaines are jo 
Vines, yeelding sweet liquor to the dullest spirits, whose eares are 
Corne, to bring strength, and whose heares are grasse, to bring 
abundance? Doth not Frankinsence & Myrrhe breath out of my 
nostrils, and all the sacrifice of the Gods breede in my bowels? 
Infinite are my creatures, without which neyther thou, nor Enditnton^ 15 
\ nor any could loue, or Hue. 

J*Io5C. But know you not fayre Ladie, that Cynthia gouemeth aU 
things? Your grapes woulde be but drie huskes, your Come but 
chaffe, and all your vertues vaine, were it not Cynthia that preserueth 
the one in the bud, and nourisheth the other in the blade, and by 30 
her influence both comforteth all things, and by her authoritie com- 
maundeth all creatures. Sufler then Endimion to followe his affec- 
tions, though to obtaine her be impossible, and let him flatter himselfe 
in his owne imaginations, because they are immortall. 

Tellus, Loth I am Endimion thou shouldest die, because I loue 35 
thee well; and that thou shouldest Hue it greeueth mee, because 
thou louest Cynthia too well. In these extremities what shall I 
doe? Floscula no more words, I am resolued. He shall neyther 
Hue, nor die. 

Flosc. A strange practise, if it be possible. 40 

Tellus, Yes, I will entangle him in such a sweet nette, that he 
shall neither find the meanes to come out, nor desire it. All allure- 
ments of pleasure will I cast before his eyes, insomuch that he shall 
slake that loue which he now voweth to Cynthia, and burne in mine, 
of which he seemeth carelesse. In thys languishing, betweene my 45 
amorous deuises, and his owne loose desires, there shall such dissolute 
thoughts take roote in his head, and ouer his hart grow so thicke 
a skinne, that neither hope of preferment, nor feare of punishment, 
nor counsel of the wisest, nor company of the worthiest, shall alter 
his humor, nor make him once to thinke of his honor. 50 

Elosc. A reuenge incredible, and if it may be, vnnaturall. 
Tellus, Hee shall knowe the mallice of a woman, to haue neither 

ax fprits Q 36 thou om, F, but not Bl, as F, supposes - 38 resoWed 


sc. ii] ENDIMION 2S 

meane, nor ende ; and of a woman deluded in loue, to haue neither 

rule, nor reason. I can doe it, I must, I will ! All his vertues will 

55 I shadow with vices; his person (ah sweet person) shall he decke 

with such rich Roabes, as he shall forget it is his owne person ; his 

sharp wit (ah wit too sharpe, that hath cut off all my ioyes) shall hee 

vse, in flattering of my face, and deuising Sonnets in my fauour. 

The prime of his youth and pride of his time, shall be spent in 

60 melancholy passions, carelesse behauiour, vntamed thoughts, and 

vnbridled aflections. 

J^sc. When thys is done what then? shall it continue tyll hys 

death, or shall he doate for euer in this delight ? 

Tellus, Ah JFIoscula^ thou rendest my hart in sunder, in putting 

65 me in remembrance of the end. 

FIosc, Why if this be not the end, all the rest is to no ende. 

T^ilus, Yet suffer mee to imitate lunOy who woulde tume lupiters 

louers to beastes on the earth, though she knew afterwards they 

should be starres in heauen. 

70 Flosc, Affection that is bred by enchauntment, is like a flower that 

is wrought in silke, in colour and forme most like, but nothing at all 

in substance or sauour. 

Tellus. It shall suffice me if the world talke that I am fauoured of 


75 J*losc. Well, vse your owne wyll; but you shal finde that loue 

gotten with witch-craft is as vnpleasant, as flsh taken with medicines 


Tellus. jFloscula, they that be so poore that they haue neyther 

nette nor hooke, will rather poyson dowe then pyne with hunger: ii 

80 and she that is so opprest with loue, that shee is neyther able with 

beauty nor wit to obtaine her freende, wyll rather vse vnlawfull 

meanes, then try vntollerable paines. I will doe it. 


JFhsc. Then about it. JPoore Endimion^ what traps are layde for 

thee, because thou honourest one that all the world wondreth at. 

^5 And what plots are cast to make thee vnfortunate, that studiest of all 

men to be the faithfuUest. Exit 

59-^1 The . . . affections itcU. BL except shall be and melancholy passions 
75-82 loue . . . paines i/o/. BL 79 dowe] dough DiL Bak. 

/^ '> 



26 ENDIMION [act i 

SCiCNA Tertia.— <7%^ same,) 
Dares, Samias, Sir Tophas, Epiton. 

{Enter Dares and Samias.) 

Dares. Now our Maisters are in loue vp to the eares, what haue 
wee to doe but to be in knauery vp to the crownes ? 

Samias, O that we had Sir Tophas^ that braue Squire, in the midst 
of our myrth, &* ecce autem, wyl you see the deuill ? 

Enter Sir TophaS {and Epiton). 
Top, Epi! 5 

Epi, Heere syr. 
T^.^^ Top. I brooke not thys idle humor of loue , it tickleth not my 

lyuer, from whence the Loue-mongers in former age seemed to 
inferre they should proceede. 

* EpL Loue, sir, may lye in your lunges, and I thinke it doth, 10 
and that is the cause you blow, and are so pursie. 

Top. Tush boy ! I thinke it but some deuise of the Poet to get 

Epi. A Poet ? whats that ? 

Top. Doost thou not know what a Poet is ? 15 

Epi. No. 

Top. Why foole, a Poet is as much as one shoulde say, a Poet. 
{Perceiving Dar. and Sam.) But soft, yonder be two Wrennes, shall 
I shoote at them ? 

Epi. They are two lads. ao 

Top. Larkes or wrennes, I will kill them. 

Epi. Larkes ! are you blinde ? they are two lyttle Boyes. 

Top. Byrdes, or boyes, they are both but a pittance for my 
breakefast, therefore haue at them, for theyr braines must as it were 
imbroder my bolts. 25 

Sam, Stay your courage valiant Knight, for your wisdome is so 
weane that it stayeth it selfe. 

Dar. Why Syr Tophas haue you forgotten your olde freendes ? 

Top, Freendes ? Nego argumentum. 

Sam. And why not freends ? 30 

Top. Because Amicitia (as in old Annuals we find) is inter pares : 

I our] are F, s. D. [and Epiton] supplied Dil, 9 they] it Dil, Bak, 

18 [Perceiving &c.] supplied Bak. 31 Annals Bl. mods. 

sc. Ill] ENDIMION 27 

now my pretty companions, you shall see how vnequall you be to 
mee : but I will not cut you quite off, you shall be my halfe friendes ; 
for reaching to my middle^ so farre as from the ground to the wast 
35 I wil be your freend. 

Dar. Learnedly. But what shall become of the rest of your 
bodie, from the wast to the crowne ? 

Top. My children quod supra vos nikii ad vos, you must thinke 
the rest immortall, because you cannot reach it 
40 JSpi\ Nay I tell ye my Maister is more then a man. 
I>ar, And thou lesse then a mouse. 
Top, But what be you two ? 
Sam. I am Samias^ page to Eumenides. 
Dar, And I Dares^ page to Endtmion. 
45 Top, Of what occupation are your Masters ? 

Dar. Occupation, you clowne, why they are honourable, and 

Top. Then are they my prentises. 
Dar, Thine, and why so ? 
50 Top. I was the first that euer deuised warre, and therefore by 
Mars himselfe giuen me for my Armes a whole Armorie, and thus 
I goe as you see, clothed with Artillary ; it is not Silkes (milksops) 
nor Tyssues, nor the fine wooU of Seres^ but yron, Steele, swords, 
flame, shot, terror, clamor, blood, and ruine, that rocks a sleepe my 
55 thoughts, which neuer had any other cradle but crueltie. Let me 
see, doe you not bleede ? 
Dar. Why so ? 

Top. Commonly my words wound. 
Sam, \Vhat then doe your blowes? 
60 Top. Not onely wound^ but also confound. 

Sam. Howe darst thou come so neere thy Maister Epil Syr 
TophcLS spare vs. 

Top. You shall liue. You Samias because you are little; you 
Darts^ because you are no bigger ; and both of you, because you 
65 are but two ; for commonly I kil by the dosen, and haue for euerie 
particular aduersarie, a peculiar weapon. 

33-4 frieodes ; F. : semicolon transferred to middle Dil, Bak. perhaps rightly : 
comma at both Q Bl. 36 But om. Dil, 43-4 Samias, page to Eumenides &c.] 
cUlprtv. eds. transpose the names Eumenides and Endimion. See note on Dram. 
l^cn, 51 was be/ore given JJii. : had before given F. Bak, 53 nor*] not 

DiL Seres] Ceres all eds. 54 rock DiL Bak, 60 wound . . . 

confoiiiid F. Bak. : confoimd . . . confoand Q Bl. : coofoond . • . contimd DU. 



28 ENDIMION [act i 

Sam. May we know the vse for our better skyll in warre ? 

Top. You shall. Heere is a burbolt for the vglie beast the 

Dor. A cruell sight. 7® 

Top. Heere is the Muskit, for the vntamed (or as the vulgar Sort 
terme it) the wilde Mallard. 

Sam. O desperate attempt ! 

EpL Nay my Maister will match them. 

Dar. I if he catch them. 75 

Top. Heere is a speare and shielde, and both necessarie, the one 
to conquer, the other to subdue or ouercome the terrible Trowte, 
which although he be vnder the water, yet tying a string to the top 
of my speare and an engine of yron to the ende of my lyne, I ouer- 
throwe him ; and then heerein I put him. 80 

Sam. O wonderfuU warre ! {Aside.") Dares^ didst thou euer heare 
such a dolt ? 

Dar. {aside). All the better, we shall haue good sport hereafter, 
if we can get leysure. 

Sam. {aside). Leysure ! I will rather loose my Maisters seruice 85 
then his companie 1 looke howe he stroutes ! — But what is this, call 
you it your sword ? 

Top. No, it is my Simiter ; which I by construction often studying 
to bee compendious, call my Smyter. 

Dar. What, are you also learned, sir? 9^ 

, Top. Learned ? I am all Mars and Ars, 
! Sam. Nay, you are all Masse and Asse. 

Top. Mock you mee? You shall both suffer, yet with such 
. weapons, as you shall make choise of the weapon wherewith you 
shall perrish. Am I all a masse or lumpe, is there no proportion in 95 
me ? Am I all Asse ? is there no wit in mee ? JSpi, prepare th6 
to the slaughter. 

Sam. I pray sir heare vs speake ! we call you Masse, which your 
learning doth well vnderstande is all Man, for Mas maris is a man. 
Then As (as you knowe) is a weight, and we for your vertues account 100 
you a weight. 

Top. The Latine hath saued your lyues, the which a world of 
siluer could not haue ransomde. I vnderstand you, and pardon 

68 bird-bolt Bi. mods. s. D. [Aside] the asides first marked in Bak. 86 

ttrowtes Bi. : stmts Dil. Bak. ^ weapons so ail. See note 

sciii] ENDIMION 29 

05 Dar. Well Sir Tophas we bid you farewell, & at our next meeting 
we will be readie to doe you seruice. 

Top, Samias I thanke you, Dares I thanke you, but especiallie 
I thanke you both. 
Sam, {astde}. Wiselie. Come, next time weele haue some prettie 
10 Gentle-women with vs to walke, for without doubt with them he will 
be verie daintie. 
JDar. Come let vs see what our Maisters doe, it is high time. 

Top, Now will I march into the fielde, where if I cannot en- . 
counter with my foule enemies, I will withdraw my selfe to the ^ 
'I5 Riuer, & there fortifie for fish: for there resteth no minute free from 
fight. Exit, 

S(c)iENA QuARTA. — {The Same,") 

(^Enter^ at one side^) Tellus,' Floscula, (a/ the other) Dipsas. 

Teiius. Behold Fbscula^ we haue met with the Woman by chaunce 
that wee sought for by trauell; I will breake my minde to her 
without ceremonie or circumstance, least we loose that time in aduise 
that should be spent in execution. / 

5 Fbsc, Vse your discretion ; I will in this case neither give counsell ^ ^ 
nor consent, for there cannot bee a thing more monstrous then to 
force affection by sorcery, neither doe I imagin anie thing more 

Tellus, Tush Ftoscula^ in obtaining of loue what impossibilities 

10 will I not try ? and for the winning of Endimion, what impieties will 
I not practise ? Dipsas^ whom as many honour for age as wonder 
at for cunning, listen in few words to my tale, & answere in one word 
to the purpose, for that neither my burning desire can afforde long 
speech, nor the short time I haue to stay manie delayes. Is it 

15 possible by hearbes, stones, spels, incantation, enchauntment, exor- 
cismes, fire, mettals, plannets, or any practise, to plant affection 
where it is not, and to supplant it where it is? 

Dipsas. Faire Ladie, you may imagin that these horie heares are 
not void of experience, nor the great name that goeth of my cunning 

30 to bee without cause. 1 can darken the Sunne by my skil, and 
remooue the Moone out of her course ; I can restore youth to the 

s. D. [Enter &c.] so first in Bak, a-3 I wiU . . . circumstance and {below) I 

wiU • . . nor consent itcU, Bl. 15 incantantation Q 15-6 exorcism, fire, 

metal, Dil, 


1. ^■<'* 


30 ENDIMION [act i, sc nr 

aged^ and make hils without bottoms ; there is nothing that I can 
not doe^ but that onely which you would haue me doe ; and therin 
I differ from the Gods, that I am not able to rule harts ; for were it 
in my power to place affection by appointment, I would make such aS 
euill appetites, such inordinate lusts, such cursed desires, as all the 
worlde should be filled both with supersticious heates, and extreame 

Teiius. Vnhappie TelluSy whose desires are so desperate, that they 
are neither to be conceiued of any creature, nor to be cured by any 3o 

Dipsas, This I can, — breede slacknes in loue, though neuer 
roote it out. What is he whom you loue, & what she that he 
honoureth ? 

Teiius, Endimion, sweet Endimion is he that hath my hart ; and 35 
Cynthia J too too faire Cynthia^ the myracle of Nature, of tyme, of 
Fortune, is the Ladie that hee deliglites in, and dotes on euery day, 
and dies for ten thousand times a day. 

Dipsas, Would you haue his loue, eyther by absence or sicknes 
aslaked ? Would you that Cynthia should mistrust him, or be 40 
iealous of him without colour? 

Tellus. It_i§_the onelie thing I craue, that seeing my loue to 
Endimion vnspotted, cannot be accepted, hys truth to Cynthia 
(though it be vnspeakeable) may bee suspected. 

Dipsas, I will vndertake it, and ouertake him, that all his loue 45 
shal be doubted of, and therefore become desperate : but this will 
weare out with time, that treadeth all things downe but trueth. 

Teiius, Let vs goe. "^--^ 

Dipsas, I follow. Exeuni. 


SCiENA Prima. — {Gardens of the Palace^ as before,) 

Endimion. Tellus. 

{Enter Endimion.) 

End, r^ Fayre Cynthia I 6 vnfortunate Endimion! Why was 

^^^ not thy byrth as high as thy thoughts, or her beautie 

lesse then heauenlie ? or why are not thyne honors as rare as her 

47 time, ... but trueth italics Bl, except thtt 

ACT 11, sc. i] ENDIMION 31 

beautie? or thy fortunes as great as thy deserts? Sweet Cynthia^ 
5 how wouldst thou be pleased^ how possessed ? wil labours (patient 
of all extremities) obtaine thy loue ? There is no Mountain so 
steepe that I will not climbe, no monster so cruell that I will not 
tame, no action so desperate that I will not attempt. Desirest thou 
the passions of loue, the sad and melancholic moodes of perplexed 

10 mindes, the not to be expressed torments of racked thoughts ? 
Beholde my sad teares, my deepe sighes, my hollowe eyes, my broken 
sleepes, my heauie countenaunce. Wouldst thou haue mee vowde 
onelie to thy beautie ? and consume euerie minute of time in thy 
seruice ? remember my solitarie life, almost these seauen yeeres : 

15 whom haue I entertained but mine owne thoughts, and thy vertues ? 
What companie haue I vsed but contemplation? Whom haue 
I wondred at but thee? Nay whom haue I not contemned, for 
thee ? Haue I not crept to those on whom I might haue troden, 
onelie because thou didst shine vpon them? Haue not iniuries 

30 beene sweet to mee, if thou vouchsafedst I should beare them ? 
Haue I not spent my golden yeeres in hopes, waxing old with 
wishing, yet wishing nothing but thy loue. With Tellus^ faire TelluSy 
haue I dissembled, vsing her but as a cloake for mine affections, that 
others seeing my mangled and disordered minde, might thinke it 

35 were for one that loueth me, not for Cynthia^ whose perfection 
alloweth no companion, nor comparison. 

In the midst of these distempreii thoughts of myne thou art not 
onelie iealous of my truth, but,careles, suspicious, and secure: 
which strange humor maketh my minde' as desperate as thy conceits 

30 are doubtfull. I am none of those m)lueSi that barke most when 
thou shynest brightest ; but that fish (thy ^^ Cynthia in the floode 
Araris) which at thy waxing is as white as the driuen snowe, and at 
thy wayning, as blacke as deepest darknes. I am that Endimion 
(sweet Cynthia) that haue carryed my thoughts in equall ballance 

35 with my actions, being alwaies as free from imagining ill, as enter- 
prysing; that Endimion^ whose eyes neuer esteemed anie thing 
faire but thy face, whose tongue termed nothing rare but thy vertues, 
and whose hart imagined nothing miraculous but thy gouernment. 
Yea, that Endimion^ who diuorsing himselfe from the amiablenes of 

40 all Ladies, the brauerie of all Courts, the companie of al men, hath 

4 thy] her Dil. perhaps rightly 7 monseer F, 30 vouchsafedst Dil. Bak, : 
▼OQchsalest Q Bl. F. 33 affection DiL 31 brightest ; but DiL Bak. : 

brightest. But Q BL /*. 33 Araris Bak, : Aranis all preceding eds. 


32 ENDIMION [act ii' 

chosen in a solitarie Cell to liue, onely by feeding on thy fauour, 
accounting in the worlde (but thy selfe) nothing excellent, nothing 
immortall; thus maist thou see euerie vainei sinew, muscle^^nd 
artery of my loue, in which there is no flatterie, nor deceipt, error, 
nor arte. But soft, here commeth TelluSy I must tume my other 45 
face to her like lanus, least she be as suspicious ^s/uno. 

Enter Tellus (, Floscula and Di^ks following'). 

Tellus, Yonder I espie Endimion^ I will seeme to suspect nothing, 
but sooth him, that seeing I cannot obtaine the depth of his loue, 
I may leame the height of his dissembling. Floscula and Dipsas^ 
with-drawe your selues out of our sight, yet be within the hearing 50 
of our saluting. — How now Endimion^ alwaies solitary ? no com- 
panie but your owne thoughts ? no freende but melancholic fancies ? 

End, You know (fayre Tellus) that the sweet remembrance of 
your loue, is the onely companion of my life, and thy presence, my 
paradise : so that I am not alone when no bodie is with mee, and 55 
in heauen it selfe when thou art with me. 

Tellus. Then you loue me Endimion. 

End. Or els I liue not Tellus. 

Tellus. Is it not possible for you Endimion^ to dissemble ? 

End. Not, Tellus^ vnlesse I could make me a woman. 60 

Tellus. Why, is dissembling ioyned to theyr sex inseparable ? as 
heate to fire, heauines to earth, moysture to water, thinnesse to ayre ? 

End. No, but founde in their sex, as common as spots vpon 
Doues, moles vpon faces, Caterpillers vpon sweet apples, cobwebs 
vpon faire windowes. 5^ 

Tellus. Doe they all dissemble ? 

End, All but one. 

Tellus. Who is that? 

End. I dare not tell. For if I shoulde say you, then would you 
imagin my flattery to be extreame ; if another^ then woulde you thinke ^o 
my loue to be but indiflferent. 

Tellus. You will be sure I shall take no vantage of your words. 
But in sooth Endimion, without more ceremonies, is it not 
Cynthia ? 

s. D. [Flosc. . . . foUowing] supplied DiU 4S-9 obtaine . . . dissembling;, 

and^ below ^ How now . . . fancies, and Tellus" next speech but one are italieited in 
Blount^ as well as many others in this scene. Since these frequent italicizatums 
sum merely due to underlinings by some reader in the Q copy from which the 
compositor was printings I report no more 61 inseparably />fV. 72 advantage 
Dit. 73 oatmony Dil. 


sc i] ENDIMION 33 

^5 End, You know TelluSy that of the Gods we are forbidden to 
dispute, because theyr dieties come not within the compasse of our 
reasons ; and of Cynthia we are allowed not to talke but to wondo", 
because her vertues are not within the reach of our capacities. 
Teibis, Why, she is but a woman. 
80 I End. No more was Venus. ? 
Telhis. Shee is but a virgin^ 
» End. No more was Vesta. ^ * 
Telhis. Shee shall haue an ende. 
End. So shall the world. 
^5 Tellus. Is not her beautie subiect to time ? 
End. No more then time is to standing still. 
Tellus. Wilt thou make her immortall ? 
End. No, but incomparable. 
^ Tellus. Take heede Endimian^ lest like the Wrastler in Olimpia, 
90 that striuing to lifte an impossible weight catcht an incurable straine, 
thou by fixing thy thoughts aboue thy reach, fal into a disease without 
al recure ! But I see thou art now in loue with Cynthia. 

End. No Tellus 'y thou knowest that the statelie Cedar, whose 
toppe reacheth vnto the clowdes^ neuer boweth his head to the 
95 shrubs that growe in the valley; nor luie that climeth vp by the 
Elme, can euer get hold of the beames of the Sunne: Cynthia 
I honour in all humilitie, whom none ought, or dare aduenture to 
loue, whose affections are immortall, & vertues infinite. Suffer me 
therefore to gaze on the Moone, at whom, were it not for thy selfe, 
100 I would die with wondering. Exeunt. 

SCiENA Secunda. — {The same.} 

{Enter} Dares, Samias, Scintilla^ Fauilla. 

Dar. Come, Samias^ diddest thou euer heare such a sighing, 
the one for Cynthia^ the other for Semele^ & both for moone shine 
in the water? 

Sam. Let them sigh, and let vs sing : how say you gentlewomen, 
5 are not our Masters too farre in loue? 

Scint. Their tongues happily are dipt to the roote in amorous ■; 
words and sweete discourses, but I thinke their hearts are scarce tipt 
on the side with constant desires. 

76 deities BL rest 6 haply Bak. 

m D 




34 ENDIMION [actii 

Dar, How say you Fauilla, is not loue a lurcher, that taketh 
mens stomacks away that they cannot eate, their spleene that they lo 
cannot laugh, their harts that they cannot fight, the3rr eyes that 
they cannot sleepe, and leaueth nothing but lyuers to make nothing 
but Louers ? 

FaviL Away peeuish boy, a rodde were better vnder thy girdle, 
than loue in thy mouth : it will be a forward Cocke that croweth in '5 
the shell. 

Dar, Alas ! good olde gentlewoman, how it becommeth you to be 

Scint, Fauilla though she be but a sparke, yet is shee fyre. 

FaviL And you Scintilla bee not much more then a sparke, '<» 
though you would be esteemed a flame. 

Sam, {aside to Dares). It were good sport to see the fight betweene 
two sparkes. 

Dar. {aside to Sam.). Let them to it, and wee will warme vs by 
theyr words. ^5 

Scint You are not angry Fauilla ? 

FaviL That is. Scintilla^ as you list to take it 

Sam, {to Scintilla). That ! that I 

Scint, This it is to be matched with girles, who comming but 
yesterday from making of babies, would before tomorrowe be y^ 
accounted Matrons. 

FaviL I crye your Matronship mercy; because your Pantables 
bee higher with corke, therefore your feete must needs be higher in 
the insteppes : you will be mine elder, because you stande vppon 
a stoole, and I on the floore. 55 

Sam, {aside). Good, good. 

Dar, {to Sam.). Let them alone, and see with what countenance 
they will become friendes. 

Scint, Nay, you thinke to bee the wyser, because you meane to 
haue the last worde. 40 

Sam, Step betweene them least they scratch. — In faith gentle- 
women, seeing wee came out to bee merry, let not your iarring marre 
our iestes : be friendes, how say you ? 

Scint, I am not angry, but it spited mee to see howe short she 
was. 45 

FaviL I ment nothing, till she would needs crosse me. 

33 Sam. [aside &c.] tke asides first marked by Baker 3a Pantables so 

all 35 floore] flowre Q 37 alone] lone BL mods. 

sc ii] ENDIMION 35 

Dor. Then so let it rest. 
Sdnt I am agreede. 

FaviL And I, yet I neuer tooke anything so vnkindly in my life. 

50 Sdnt Tys I baue the cause, that neuer offered the occasion. 

Dor, Excellent, and right like a woman. 
Sam. A strange sight to see water come out of fire. 
Dar. It is their propertie to carrie, in their eyes, fire ^nd water, 
teares and torches, and in their mouthes, honie and galL 
55 Sdnt You will be a good one if you liue> but what is yonder 
formall fellowe? 

Enter Sir Tophas <, Epiton following), 

Dar, Sir Tophas^ syr Tophas of whom we tolde you : if you bee , 
good wenches make as though you loue him, and wonder at him. 
FaviL Wee will doo our parts. 
60 Dar. But first let vs stand ^ide, and let him vse his garbe, for all 
consisteth in his gracing. ( The four retire. ) 

Top. Epi! 
Epi. At hand, syr. 

Top. How likest thou this Martiall life, where nothing but bloud 
65 besprinkleth our bosomes? Let me see, be our enemies fatte? 

Epi. Passing fat : and I would not chaunge this life to be a Lord ; 
and your selfe passeth all comparison, for other Captaines kill and 
beate, and there is nothing you kill, but you also eate. 

Top. I will drawe out their guttes out of their bellies, and teare 
70 the flesh with my teeth, so mortall is my hate, and so eger my 
unstaunched stomacke. 

Epi. (aside to the ladies). My master thinkes himselfe the valiantest 
man in the world if hee kill a wren: so warlike a thing he 
accompteth to take away life, though it be from a Larke. 
75 Top. Epi^ I finde my thoughtes to swell, and my spirite to take 
winges, in so much that I cannot continue within the compas of so 
slender combates. 

FaviL This passeth ! \ 

Sdnt. Why, is he not madde? \ (.Adde.) 

80 Sam. No, but a little vaine glorious. ) 

s. D. [Weeps] (Jbis) supplied B ok. after Dilke's note s, D. [Epiton follow- 

ing] supplied Dil. s. D. [The four retire] supplied B ok. 7 a s. D. [Aside] 

supplied Dil. 74 it after acconnteth Dtl. 79 Why is Q 

D 2 

36 ENDIMION [actii 

Top. Epit 

Epu Syr. 

Top, I will encounter that blacke and cruell enemie that beareth 
rough and vntewed lockes vpon his bodie, whose Syre throweth 
downe the strongest walles, whose legs are as many as both ours, on 85 
whose head are placed most horrible homes by nature, as a defence 
from all harmes. 

EpL What meane you, Master, to be so desperate? 

Top, Honour inciteth mec, and very hunger compelleth mee. 

EpL What is that monster ? 9^ 

Top, The Monster Outs, I haue saide, — ^let thy wits worke. 

EpL I cannot imagin it; yet let me see,— a black enemie with 
rough lockes — it may be a sheep, and Ouis is a sheep : his Sjrre so 
strong — a Ram is a sheepes Sire, that beeing also an engine of war : 
homes he hath, and foure legs, — so hath a sheepe : without doubt this 95 
monster is a blacke sheepe. Is it not a sheepe that you meane ? 

Top, Thou hast hit it, that Monster will I kill and sup with. 

Sam, Come let vs take him off. (^Advancing.) Syr Tophas^ all 

Top, Welcome children, I seldome cast mine eyes so low as to ic 
the crownes of your heads, and therfore pardon me that I spake not 
all this while. 

Dar, No harme done : here be faire Ladies come to wonder at 
your person, your valour, your witte, the report whereof hath made 
them careles of their owne honours, to glut their eyes and harts vpon i< 

Top, Report cannot but iniure mee, for that not knowing fully 
what I am, I feare shee hath beene a niggard in her praises. 

Scint, No, gentle knight. Report hath beene prodigal; for shee 
hath left you no equall, nor her selfe credite ; so much hath she tolde, i^ 
yet no more than we now see. 

Dar, (aside), A good wench. 

Fa^iL If there remaine as much pittie toward women as there is 
in you courage against your enemies, th6 shall we be happie, who 
hearing of your person, came to see it, and seeing it, are now in loue i 
with it 

Top, Loue me. Ladies ? I easily beleeue it, but my tough heart 
receiueth no impression with sweet words. Mars may pearce it, 
Venus shall not paint on it. 

84 YDtewed so all 85 will DiL 113 woman DU, 

sc. ii] ENDIMION 37 

20 FaviL A cruell saying. 

Sam. {aside^, Ther*s a girle. 

Dor. Will you cast these Ladyes away, and all for a little loue ? 
doc but speake kindly. 

' Tap. There cdmeth no soft syllable within my lips ; custome hath 
25 made my wordes bloudy, and my hart barbarous : that pelting word 

loue, how watrish it is in my mouth, it carrieth no sound ; hate, o 
horror, death, are speaches that nourish my spirits. I like hony, but " 
I care not for the bees : I delight in musicke, but I loue not to play 
on the bagpipes : I can vouchsafe to heare the voice of women, but 
30 to touch their bodies I disdaine it, as a thing childish, and fit for 
such men as can disgest nothing but milke. 

Sdnt. A hard heart ! shall wee dye for your loue, and iinde no 

Top. I haue already taken a surfet. 
35 £/i. Good master, pittie them. 

Tdfp. Pittie them, jEpif no I do not thinke that this breast shalbe 
pestred with such a foolish passion. What is that the gentlewoman 
carrieth in a chaine? 

JEpi. Why it is a Squirrill. 
40 Top. A Squirrill ? O Gods what things are made for money. 
JDar. (Jo t?u Uidies). Is not this gentleman ouerwise? 
FaviL I could stay all day with him, if I feared not to be 
Sdnt. Is it not possible to meete againe ? 
45 Dar. Yes, at any time. 

FaviL Then let vs hasten home. 

Sdnt. Sir TopAas, the God of warre deale better with you, than 
you doe with the God of loue. 
FaviL Our loue we may dissemble, disgest we cannot; but 
50 I doubt not but time will hamper you, and helpe vs. 

Top. 1 defie time, who hath no interest in my heart : come £pi^ 
let me to the battaile with that hideous beast : loue is pappe and 
hath no relish in my taste^ because it is not terrible. 

{Exeunt Sir Tophas and Epiton.) 
J?ar. Indeede a blacke sheepe is a perrilous beast : but let vs in 
55 till another time. 

FaviL I shall long for that time. Exeunt. 

124 syllables Dii. 126 it is om, Bab. 137 gentlewomen F 141 

geDtlemeo F. otherwise F. s. d. [Exeunt ftcT) suppli€d Bak, 

- ) 

38 ENDIMION [act il 

SCiENA Tertia. — (^A Grave.) 

{Enter) Endimion : Dipsas {and) Bagoa {in the background). 

End, No rest Endimion ? still vncertaine how to settle thy steps 
by day, or thy thoughts by night? thy trueth is measured by thy 
fortune, and thou art iudged vnfaithfuU because thou art vnhappy. 
I will see if I can beguile my selfe with sleep, & if no slumber will 
take hold in my eyes, yet will I imbrace the golden thoughts in my 5 
head, and wish to melt by musing : that as Ebone, which no fire 
can scorch, is yet cdsumed wjfch^sweet sauours ; so my heart which 
cannot bee bent \bvth^-'!iardnes of fortune, may be brused by 
amorous desires. Uh yonder banke neuer grewe any thing but 
Lunary, and hereafter I will neuer haue any bed but that banke. lo 
O Endimion, Tellus was faire, but what auaileth Beautie without 
wisedome? Nay, Endimion^ she was wise, but what auaileth wis- 
dome without honour? Shee was honourable Endimion, belfe her 
not, I but howe obscure is honor without fortune? Was she not 
fortunate whome so many followed? Yes, yes, but base is fortune 15 
without Maiestie : thy Maiestie Cynthia al the world knoweth and 
wondereth at, but not one in the world that can immitate it, or 
comprehend it. No more Endimion / sleepe or dye ; nay die, for 
to sleepe, it is impossible ; and yet I knowe not how it commeth to 
passe^ I feele such a heauines both in mine eyes and hart, y^ I am 20 
sodainly benummed, yea in euery ioint : it may be wearinesse, for 
when did I rest ? it may bee deepe melancholy, for when did I not 
sigh ? Cynthia / I so ; I ^^TCynthia I Hefalles a sleepe, 

Dipsas {advanang)yL,itt\e doost thou knowe Endimion when 
thou shalt wake, foT^adst thou placed thy heart as lowe in loue, 25 
as thy head li^i^now in sleepe, thou mightest haue commanded 
Tel/us whonM^^we in stead of a Mistris, thou shalt finde a tombe. 
These eyes must I seale vp by Art, not Nature, which are to be 
opened neither by Art nor Nature. Thou that laist downe widi 
goldeo,.lockes, shalt not awake vntill they bee turned to siluer haires ; 30 
^aftd-ithat chin, on which scarcely appeareth soft downe, shalbe filled 
\ withUjoii^sels as hard as broome : thou shalt sleep out thy youth and 
flooring time, and become dry hay before thou knowest thy selfe 
grasse, & ready by age to step into the graue whe thou 

[Enter &c.] old eds, DiL F, simply Endimion, Dipsas, Bagoa. Baker 

^^ W Dipsas and Bagoa after Endimion* s speech 13 believe Dil, 17 

that om. DiL ai ioint] iont Q 29 Uest Bak. 30 wake Bak, 33 
knowest DiL Bak, : knewest Q BL F, 


35 wakest, tl^at was youthfull in the Courte when thou laidst thee downe 
to sleepe. The malice of Telius hath brought this to passe, which if 
shee could not haue intreated of mee by fayre meanes, shee would 
haue commaunded by menacing, for from h^ gather wee all our 
simples to maintaine our sorceries. Fanne with this hemlocke ouer 

40 his face^ and sing the inchantmetit for sleepe, whilst I goe in and 
finish those cerimonies that are required in our Art : take heede yee 
touch not his face, for the Fanne is so seasoned that who so it 
toucheth with a leafe shall presently dye, and ouer whom the wind 
of it breatheth, hee shall sleepe for euer. Exit, 

45 Bagoa, Let me alone, I will bee carefuU. — What happe hadst thou 
Endimian to come vnder the hands of Dipsas ! O faire Enditnion / 
how it grieueth me that that faire face must be turned to a withered 
skinne, & taste the paines of death before it feele the reward of 
loue. I feare Telius will repent that which the heauens themselues 

50 seemed to rewe. But I heare Dipsas comming ; I dare not repine, 
least she make me pine, and rocke me into such a deepe sleepe, that 
I shall not awake to my marriage. 

{R€')Ent€r Dipsas. 
Dipsas. How now, haue you finished ? 
Bagoa. Yea. 
55 Dipsas, Well then let vs in, and see that you doo not so much as 
whisper that I did this, for if you do, I will turne thy haires to Adders, 
and all thy teeth in thy heade to tongues : come away, come away. 


A DUMBE SHEW {representing thc dream ^Endimion). 

Musique sounds. 
Three La^esjnter ; one with a Knife and a looking glasse^ who by 
the procurement of one of the other two, offers to stab endimion as 
hee sleepes, but the third wrings her hands, lamenteth, offering still to 
preuent it^ but dares not. 

At last, the first Lady looking in the glasse, casts downe the Knife, 

Enters an ancient man with bookes with three leaues, offers the same 
twice, ENDIMION refuseth: hee rendeth two and offers the third, 
where hee stands a while, and then endimion offers to take it. 

Exit {the Old Man), 

35 wert DiL : wast Bak, s. D. This Dumb Show first appears in Blount 

rendeth DU, Bak. : readeth Bl, F, Cf.y,i,p, 66, /. 109 offers to take] takes 
Dil. [the Old Man] added Bak, 

40 ENDIMION [act in 


SCiENA Prima. — (^Gardens of the Palace^ as before,^ 

Cynthia, three Lordes, Tellus. 

{Enfer Cynthia, Tellus, Semele, Eumenides, Corsites, 


Cynthia, TS the report true, that Endimion is striken into such 
^ a dead sleep, that nothing can either wake him or 
mooue him ? 

Eum. Too true Madame, and as much to be pittied as won- 
dered at. 5 

Tellus. As good sleepe and doe no harme, as wake and doe 
no good. 

Cynth, What maketh you Tellus to bee so short? the time was 
Endimion onely was. 

Eum. It is an olde saying Madame, that a waking dog doth a farre lo 
off barke at a sleeping Lyon. 

Setn, It were good Eumenides that you tooke a nappe with your 
friend, for your speech beginneth to be heauy. 

Eum. Contrarie to your nature, Semele^ which hath beene alwaies 
accounted light. i^ 

Cynih. What haue we heare, before my Dace, these vnseemely 
and malepart ouerthwarts? I will tame your tongues, and your 
thoughts, and make your speeches answerable to your dueties, and 
your conceits fitte for my dignitie, els will I banish you both my 
person and the worlde. 20 

Eum, Pardon I humbly aske : but such is my vnspotted faith to 
Endimion^ that whatsoeuer seemeth a needle to pricke his finger^ is 
a dagger to wound my heart 

Cynth. If you bee so deere to him, howe happeneth it you neither 
go to see him, nor search for remedy for him ? a^ 

Eum, I haue seene him to my griefe, and sought recure with 
despaire, for that I cannot imagine who should restore him that 
is the wounder to all men: your highnes on whose handes the 

s. D. Cynthia, three Lordes, Tellus Q BL F, though Sem. Eum. Con. Zoo. 
appear in ail thru awtaw the foUcwing prefxes^ apui Pantlioo or Pantalion in the 
text, Dilke merely adds Skmblb to the imperfect enumeration of the old eds. 
Baker gives the list as here 17 tame] take F. 28 wounder Q^ i,e, wonder 
as BL mods, on] in Z>i7. 


sc i] ENDIMION 41 

compasse of the earth is at cdmaund, (though not in possession) 
30 may shewe your selfe both worthy your sex, your nature, and your 
fauour, if you redeeme that honorable Endimion^ whose ripe yeres 
foretell rare vertues^ and whose vnmeUowed conceits promise rype 

Cynth. I haue had tryal of Endimioriy & conceiue greater assur- 
35 ance of his age, then I coulde hope of hys youth. 

Telius, But timely. Madam, crookes that tree that wil be a 
camock ; and young it pricks that will be a thorne : and therefore 
he that began without care to settle his life, it is a signe without 
amendment he will end it. 
40 Cynth, Presumptuous gyrle, I will make thy tongue an example 
of vnrecouerable displeasure. CorsiteSy carry her to the Castle in 
the Deserte, there to remaine and weaue. 
Cors. Shall she worke stories or poetries ? 

Cynth. It skyleth not which — ^goe to ! in both ; for she shall find 
45 examples infinite in eyther what punishment long tongpes haue. 
EumenideSy if eyther the Soothsayers in Egipt, or the Enchaunters in 
Thessaly, or the Philosophers in Greece, or all the Sages of the 
worlde, can find remedie, I will procure it ; therefore dispatch with 
al speede : you EumenidcSy into Thessalie. You Zontes into Greece, 
50 (because you are acquainted in Athens.) You Panelion to Egypt, 
saying that Cynthia sendeth, and if you will, commaundeth. 

Eum, On bowed knee I giue thanks, and with wings on my legs 
I flye for remedie. 
Zon, We are readie at your highnes commaund, & hope to retume 
55 to your full content. 

Cynth, It shall neuer be said that Cynthiay whose mercy and 

goodnes filleth the heauens with ioyes, & the world with meruailes, 

will suffer esrther Endimion or any to perrish, if he may be protected. 

Eum, Your Maiesties wordes haue beene alwaies deedes, and 

60 your deedes vertues. Exeunt. 

SCiENA Secunda. — (^Before a Castle,) 

{Enter) Corsites, Tellus. 

Cors. Heere is the Castle (fayre Tellus) in which you must weaue, 
till eyther time end your dayes, or Cinthia her displeasure. I am / / 
sorrie so foyre a face shoulde bee subiect to so hard a fortune, and 

33 whose] those F. 46 Sonthsayers BL 50 Panelion Bak, : Pantlion 

Q : FantalioQ BL DiL F. 57 meroailes] marvaile Bl. F. : manrel DiL Bak. 





42 ENDIMION [act m 

that the flower of beautie, which is honoured in Courts, shoulde 
heere wither in pryson. 5 

Tellus, CorsiteSy Cynthia may restraine the libertie of my bodie, 
of my thoughts she cannot, and therefore doe I esteeme my selfe 
most free, though I am in greatest bondage. 

Cors, Can you then feede on fancie, and subdue the mallice of 
enuie by the sweetnes of imagination ? w 

Teilus, Corsites, there is no sweeter musicke to the miserable then 
dispayre; and therefore the more bittemesse I feele, the more 
sweetnes I find ; for so vaine were liberty, and so vnwelcome the 
following of higher fortune, that I chuse rather to pine in this Castle^ 
then to be a Prince in any other Court. 15 

Cors. A humor contrary to your yeeres, and nothing agreeable to 
your sex : the one commonly allured with delights, the other alwaies 
with soueraigntie. 

Tellus, I meruaile Corsites that you being a Captain, who should 
sound nothing but terror, and suck nothing but blood, can finde in ao 
your hart to talke such smooth wordes, for that it agreeth not with 
your calling to vse words so soft as that of loue. 

Cors, Ladie, it were vnfit of warres to discourse with wom€, into 
whose minds nothing can sinck but smoothnes ; besides, you must not 
thinke that Souldiours bee so rough hewne, or of such knottie mettle, 35 
that beautie cannot allure, and you beeingbeyonde perfection enchaunt 

Tellus. Good Corsites talke not of loue, but let me to my labor : 
the little beautie I haue, shall be bestowed on my Loome, which 
I now meane to make my Louer. 

Cors. Let vs in, and what fauour Corsites can shewe, Tellus shall 30 

Tellus. The onely fauour I desire, is now and then to walke. 


SCiENA Tertia. — (^Gardens of the Palace^ as before,) 

{Enter) Syr Tophas and Epi<ton>. 
Tophas. EpL 
Epi. Heere sir. 

Tophas. Vnrigge mee. Hey ho ! 
Epi. Whatsthat? 

Tophas. An interiection, whereof some are of mourning : as 5 ' 
eho^ vah. 

7 I do DiL 

sc. Ill] ENDIMION 43 

Epi. I vnderstand you not. 

Tophas, Thou seest me. 

Epi. I. 
lo Taphcu. Thou hearst me. 

Epi. I. 

Tcphas, Thou feelest me. 

Epi. I. 

Tophas, And not vnderstand'st me ? 
15 Epi, No. 

Tophas. Then am I but three quarters of a Nowne substantiue. 
But alas Epi^ to tell thee the troth, I am a Nowne Adiectiue. 

Epi. Why? 

Tophas. Because I cannot stand without another, 
ao Epi. Who is that? 

Tophas. Dipsas. 

Epi. Are you in loue ? 

Tophas. No : but loue hath as it were milkt my thoughts, and 
drained from my hart the very substance of my accustomed courage ; 
35 it worketh in my heade like newe Wine, so as I must hoope my 
skonce with yron, least my head breake, and so I bewray my 
braines : but I pray thee first discouer me in all parts, that I may be 
like a Louer, and then will I sigh and die. Take my gunne and giue 
me a gowne : Cedant arma toga. 
30 Epi. Heere. 

Tophas. Take my sworde and shielde, and giue mee beard-brush 
and Cyssers : bella gerant aliiy tu Pari semper ama. 

Epi. Will you be trimd sir ? 

Tophas, Not yet : for I feele a contention within me, whether 
35 I shall frame the bodkin beard or the bush. But take my pike and 
giue mee pen : dicere qua puduity scribere iussit amor, 

Epi. I wyll furnish you sir. 

Tophas. Nowe for my bowe and bolts giue me ynke and paper ; 
for my Smiter a pen-knife: for Scalpelium, calami^ atramentum^ 
40 charta^ libelliy sint semper studiis arma parata meis. 

Epi. Sir, will you giue ouer warres, & play with that bable called 

10 hearest Bl. mods, 39 Cedant Dii, Bak, : Coedant Q Bl. F. 31 

beard-brush Dil. Bak, : beard, bmsh Q Bl. F, 32 Pari BL DiL Bak, : pari 

QF, 36 a brfore pen Dii, quae] que Q 39 Smiter Q : Semiter Bl, F. : 

scimitar Dil, : simitar Bak, ; ^/ r/*. i. 3. 89 41 baable Dil, Bak, 

44 ENDIMION [act hi 

Tophas, Giue ouer warres ? no Epi^ Militat omnis amans, et Jiabtt 
sua castra Cupido, 

EpL Loue hath made you very eloquent, but your face is nothing 43 

Tophas, Nonformosus erat^ sed erat facundus VJisses, 

Epu Nay, I must seeke a new Maister if you can speake nothing 
but verses. 

Tophas, Quicquid conabar dicere versus erat Epi^ I feele all Ouid ffi 
de arte amandi lie as heauie at my heart as a loade of logges. 
O what a fine thin hayre hath Dipsas / What a prettie low fore- 
head ! What a tall & statelie nose ! What little hoUowe eyes ! 
What great and goodly lypes ! Howe harmlesse shee is beeing 
toothlesse ! her fingers fatte and short, adorned with long nayles like 55 
a Bytter ! In howe sweete a proportion her cheekes hang downe to 
her brests like dugges, and her pappes to her waste like bagges ! 
What a lowe stature shee is, and yet what a great foote shee carryeth ! 
Howe thrifty must she be in whom there is no waste! Howe 
vertuous is shee like to be, ouer whom no man can be ielous ! 6o 

Epi. Stay Maister, you forget your selfe. 

Tophas, O Epiy euen as a dish melteth by the fire, so doth my 
wit increase by loue. 

EpL Pithily, and to the purpose. But what? beginne you to nodde? 

Tophas, Good Epi^ let me take a nappe : for as some man may 65 
better steale a horse, then another looke ouer the hedge : so diuers 
shall be sleepie when they woulde fainest take rest He skepes, 

Epi, Who euer saw such a woodcock ? loue Dipsas ! without doubt 
all the world will nowe account him valiant, that ventureth on her, 
whom none durst vndertake. But heere commeth two wagges. 70 

Enter Dares and Samias. 

Sam, Thy Maister hath slept his share. 

Dar, I thinke he doth it because he would not paie me my boord 

Sam, It is a thing most strange, and I thinke mine will neuer 
retume, so that wee must both seeke newe Maisters, for we shall 75 
neuer hue by our manners. 

Epi. If you want Maisters, ioyne with me, and seme Sir Tophas^ 
who must needes keepe more men, because he is toward marriage. 

44 castea Q 53 tall] talc Q 56 Bytter C, cf,l.^i Bytten 

Bl, mods. 


Sam, What, Epi ! wher's thy Maister ? 
80 Epi, Yonder, sleeping in loue. 
Dar, Is it possible? 

Epu Hee hath taken his thoughts a hole lower^ and sayth, seeing 
it Is the fashion of the world, hee will vaile bonet to beautie. 
Sam, How is he attyred ? 
gg Epi, Louelie. 

Dar, Whom loueth this amorous knight ? 
Epi, Dtpsas, 

Sam, That vglie creature? Why shee is a foole, a scold, fat, 
without fashion, and quite without fauour. 
90 Epi, Tush you be simple, my Ma. hath a good marriage. 
Dar, Good ? as how ? 

Epu Why in marrying Dipsas^ hee shall haue euerie day twelue 
dishes of meate to his dinner, though there be none but Dipsas with 
him. Foure of flesh, four of fish, foure of fruite. 
95 Sam, As how Epi ? 

Epi. For flesh these ; woodcock, goose, bitter, & rayle. 
JDar, Indeed he shal not misse, if Dipsas be there. 
Epi, For fish these ; crab, carpe, lumpe, and powting. 
Sam, Excellent ! for of my word, she is both crabbish, lumpish, 
100 and carping. 

Epi, For fruite these ; fretters, medlers, hartichockes, and Lady 
longings. Thus you see hee shall fare like a King, though he be 
but a begger. 

Dar, Well, Epi^ dine thou with him, for I had rather fast then 
105 see her face. But see, thy Ma. is a sleepe : let vs haue a song to 
wake this Amorous knight. 
Epi, Agreed. 

Sam, Content. 

The First Song. 

Epi, TJEre snores TofihaSf 

no That Amorous Asse, 

Who loues Dipsas f 
With face so sweet. 
Nose and Chinne meet. 
>f // ih I ^^ sight of her each Fury skips 
115 * I And flings into her lap their whips. 

96 bitter Q, rf, /. 56 : Byttem Bl, mods, 99 of om. DU, loi 

Fritten Bl, mods, s. D. The First Song so Bl, where it first appears ; Q 

has merely Song, without giving it 


46 ENDIMION [act m 

Dor. Holla, Holla in his eare. 

Sam^ The Witch sure thrust her fingers there. 

Epu Crampe him, or wring the Foole by th* Nose. 

Dar, Or clap some burning flax to his toes. 
Sam^ What Musique's best to wake him? 

Epi, Baw wow, let Bandogs shake him 

Dar. Let Adders hisse in*s eare. 

Sam. Else Eare-wigs wriggle there. 

Epi, No, let him batten ; when his tongue 

Once goes, a Cat is not worse strung. \i\ 

Allik 1 ^"^ '^ ^^ ^P® °°"^ mouth, nor eies, 

' I He may in time sleepe himselfe wise. 

Top, Sleepe is a bynding of the sences, loue a loosing. 

Epi, {aside). Let vs heare him awhile. 

Top, There appeared in my sleepe a goodly Owle, who sitting 130 
vpon my shoulder, cryed twyt twyt, & before myne eyes presented 
her selfe the expresse image of Dipsas. I meruailed what the Owle 
said, til at the last, I perceiued twyt twyt, to it, to it : onely by con- 
traction admonished by thys vision, to make account of my sweet 
Venus, 135 

Sam, Sir TophaSy you haue ouer-slept your selfe. 

Top, No youth, I haue but slept ouer my loue. 

Dar, Loue? Why it is impossible, that into so noble and 
vnconquered a courage, loue should creepe ; hauing first a head as 
hard to pearce as Steele, then to passe to a hart arm'd with a shirt 140 
of male. 

Epi, I, but my Maister yawning one day in the Sun, loue crept 
into his mouth before he could close it^ and there kept such a tum- 
bling in his bodie, that he was glad to vntrusse the poynts of his hart, 
and entertaine Loue as a stranger. j^^ 

Top, If there remaine any pittie in you, pleade for me to 

Dar, Pleade? Nay, wee will presse her to \\„—(^Asid€ to Sam.) 
Let vs goe with him to Dipsas^ and there shall wee haue good sport — 
But sir Tophas when shall we goe ? for I finde my tongue voluble, 150 
and my hart venturous, and all my selfe like my selfe. 

Sam, {aside to Dar.). Come Dares^ let vs not loose him till we 

133-4 ^^"^t . . . admonished so punctuated Q Bl, : twit, twit, was to it, to it, only 
by contraction; admonished Du,\ 'Twit, twit,* 'To it, to it*— Hwly, by con- 
traction admonished Bak, s. D. [Aside &c.] the asides here supplied 

sc 111] ENDIMION 47 


find our Maisters, for as long as he liueth, we shall lack neither mirth 
nor meate. 
155 Epi^ We will trauice. Will you goe sir ? 

Top. I prce^ sequar. Exeunt, 

SCiENA QuARTA. — (^A dcscrt placCy with a fountain,) 


{Geron singing: to whom^ at dose of song^ enter Eumenides.) 

Eum, Father, your sad musique beeing tuned on the same key 
that my harde fortune is, hath so melted my minde, that I wish to 
hang at your mouthes ende till my life end. 

Ger, These tunes, Gentleman, haue I beene accusttomed with 
5 these fiftie Winters, hauing no other house to shrowde my selfe but f\ L^ 
the broade heauens : and so familiar with mee hath vse made miserie, '^ — ^ ^^. 

that I esteeme sorrowe my cheefest solace. And welcommest is A^*^-'^^^''*'^^ 
that guest to mee^that can rehearse the saddest tale, or the bloodiest " 

>o Eum, A strange humour, might I en quire the cause ? 

Ger, You must pardon me if I denie to tell it, for knowing that 
the reuealing of griefes is as it were a renewing of sorrow, I haue 
vowed therefore to conceale them, that I might not onely feele 
the depth of euerlasting discontentment, but dispaire of remedie. 
15 But whence are you? What fortune hath thrust you to thys 
distresse ? 

Eum, I am going to Thessalie, to seeke remedie for Endimion my 
deerest freende, who hath beene cast into a dead sleepe, almost these 
twentie yeeres, waxing olde, and readie for the graue, beeing almost 
JO but newlie come forth of the cradle. 

Ger, You neede not for recure trauell farre, for who so can j 
cleerely see the bottome of thys P ountaine shall haue remedie for 
any thing. 

Eum, That mee thinketh is vnpossible : why, what vertue can ' >t^^>^ 

25 there be in water? J^^' ^, 

Ger, Yes, who soeuer can shedde the teares of a faythfull Louer 
shall obtaine any thing he would: reade these words engrauen 
about the brimme. 

Eum. Haue you knowne this by experience, or is it placed heere 
30 of purpose to delude men ? 

155 trauice] traverse Bak, 3 my om. Bl. mods, 19 and] am F, 29 

knowe /*• 

:-^\ -^ 

I ■•-■» J 


48 ENDIMION [act m 

Ger, I onely would haue experience of it, and then shoulde there 
bee an ende of my miserie. And then woulde I tell the strangest 
discourse that euer yet was heard. 

Eum, (^aside}. Ah Eumenidesf • 

Ger. What lacke you Gentleman, are you not wel ? 35 

Eum, Yes Father, but a qualme that often commeth ouer my 
hart doth nowe take hold of me. But did neuer any Louers come 

Ger. Lusters, but not Louers ; for often haue I seene them weepe, 
but neuer could I heare they saw the bottome. 40 

Eum, Came there women also ? 

Ger, Some. 

Eum. What did they see ? 

Ger, They all wept that the Fountaine ouerflowed with teares, 
but so thicke became the water with theyr teares, that I could scarce 45 
disceme the brimme, much lesse beholde the bottome. 

Eum, Be faithfull Louers so skant ? 

Ger, It seemeth so, for yet heard I neuer of any. 

Eum, Ah Eumenides^ howe art thou perplexed i call to minde the 
beautie of thy sweet Mistris, and the depth of thy neuer dyimg ffi 
affections: howe oft hast thou honoured her, not onelie without 
spotte, but suspition of falsehoode ! And howe hardly hath shee 
rewarded thee, without cause or colour of despight ! Howe secrete 
hast thou beene these seauen yeeres^ that hast not, nor once darest 
not, to name her, for discontenting her. Howe faythfuU ! that hast 55 
offered to dye for her, to please her. Vnhappie Eumenides I 

Ger, Why, Gentleman, did you once love ? 

Eum, Once ? I Father, and euer shall. 

Ger. Was she vnkind, and you faithfull ? 

Eum, Shee of all women the most froward, and I of sUl creatures 60 
the most fond. 

Ger, You doted then, not loued: for affection is grounded on 
vertue, and vertue is neuer peeuish: or on Beautie, and Beautie 
loueth to be praised. 

Eum, I, but if all vertuous Ladies should yeelde to all that be 65 
louing, or all amia ble gentlewomen entertaine all that be agiorous, 
theyr vertues would bee accounted vices, and their beauties deformi- 
ties ; for that loue can bee but betweene two, and that not proceeding 
of him that is most faithfull, but most fortunate. 

55 hath F, Bak. 67 their cm, Bl. mods. 


70 Ger. I would you were so faithfull, that your teares might make 
you fortunate. 

Eum, Yea father, if that my teares cleare not this fountaine, then 
may you sweare it is but a meere mockerie. 
Ger. So saith every one yet, that wept. 
75 Eum, Ah, I fainte, I dye I Ah sweete Semele let me alone, and 
dissolue, by weeping, into water. 

(^He gazes into the fountain,) 

Ger. This affection seemeth straunge: if hee see nothing, 
without doubt this dissembling passeth, for nothing shall drawe mee 
from the beleefe. 
80 Eum, Father, I plainlie see the bottome, and there in white 
marble engrauen these wordes, Aske one for ally and but one thing 
at all 

Ger, O fortunate EumenideSy (for so haue I hearde thee call thy 
selfe) let me see. (^Laoks into the fountain,) I cannot discerne any 
85 such thing. I thinke thou dreamest. 

Eum, Ah Father, thou art not a faithfull louer, and therefore canst 
not beholde it 

Ger. Then aske ; that I may be satisfied by the euent, and thy 

selfe blessed. 

90 Eum, Aske? so I will: and what shall I doo but aske? and 

whome should I aske but Semele ? the possessing of whose person 

is a pleasure that cannot come within the compasse of comparison ; 

whose golden lockes seeme most curious, when they seeme most 

carelesse ; whose sweete lookes seeme most alluring, when they are 

95 most chaste ; and whose wordes the more vertuous they are, the 

more amorous they bee accounted. I pray thee, fortune, when 

I shall first meete with fayre Semele^ dash my delight with some 

light disgrace, least imbracing sweetnesse beyond measure, I take 

a surfit without recure : let her practise her accustomed coynesse, 

100 that I may dyet my selfe vpon my desires : otherwise the fulnesse 

of my ioyes will diminish the sweetnesse, and I shall perrish by them 

before I possesse them. 

Why doe I trifle the time in words ? The least minute, beeing 

spent in the getting of Semele^ is more worth then the whole worlde : 

105 therefore let mee aske. What nowe Eumenides? Whether art thou 

78 this so all 81 one] once DiL perhaps rightly 93 seeme*] are Dil. 

perhaps rightly 104 of am, Dil, 105 aske.] aske, F, spoiling sense 


so ENDIMION [act hi 

drawn? Hast thou forgotten both friendship and duetie? Care 
of Endimion^ and the commaundement of Cynthia^ Shall hee 
dye in a leaden sleepe, because thou sleepest in a golden dreame? 
I, let him sleepe euer, so I slumber but one minute with Semeie. 
Loue knoweth neither friendshippe nor kindred. no 

Shall I not hazard the losse of a friend, for the obtayning of her 
for whome I woulde often loose my selfe ? Fonde Eumenides^ shall 
the intycing beautie of a most disdainfull Ladie, bee of more force 
then the rare fidelitie of a tryed friend ? The loue of men to women 
is a thing common and of course: the friendshippe of man to man 115 
infinite and immortall. Tush, Semele dooth possesse my loue. 
I, hut Ends'mion hath deserued it. I will helpe Endimian. I founde 
Endimion vnspotted in his trueth. I, but I shall finde Semele con- 
stant in her loue. I will haue Semek, What shall I doe? Father, 
thy gray haires are Embassadours of experience. Which shall I lao 

Ger, EumenideSf release Endimion^ for all thinges (friendship 
excepted) are subiect to fortune.: Loue is but an eye-worme, which 
onely tickleth the heade with hopes and wishes: friendshippe the 
image of etemitie, in which there is nothing moueable^ nothing 135 
mischeeuous. , As much difference as there is betweene Beautie 
and Vertue^ bodies and shadowes, colours and life; so great oddes 
is there betweene loue and friendshippe. 

Loue is a Camelion^ which draweth nothing into the mouth but 
ayre, and nourisheth nothing in the bodie but lunges : beleeue mee 130 
Eumenides^ Desire dyes in the same pioment that Beautie sickens, 
and Beautie fadeth in the same instant that it flourisheth. When 
aduersities flowe^ then loue ebbes : but friendship standeth stifflie 
in stormes. Time draweth wrinckles in a fayre face, but addeth 
fresh colours to a fast friende, which neither heate, nor cold, nor 135 
miserie^ nor place^ nor destiny, can alter or diminish. O friendship ! 
of all things the most rare, and therefore most rare because most 
excellent, whose comforts in misery is alwaies sweet, and whose 
counsels in prosperitie are euer fortunate. Vaine loue, that onely 
comming neere to friendship in name, woulde seeme to be the same, 140 
or better, in nature. 

Eum, Father^ I allowe your reasons, and will therefore conquer 
mine owne. Vertue shall subdue affections^ wisdome lust, friendship 

118 shall finde] found Dil, 129 chameleon Bak, ' 13a floariihes Dii. 

133 friendships standeth DiL 138 is] are DiL 

sciv] ENDIMION 51 

beautie. Mistresses are in euery place^ and as common as Hares 

145 in Atho^ Bees in Hxhla^ foules in the ayre : but friends to .bfcfounde, 

are^like the^Phoenix in Arabia, but one, or the Philadelphi in Arays, 

' heuer aboue two. I will haue Endimion : (jigain looking into the 

fountcUn) sacred Fountaine! in whose bowels are hidden diuine 

secrets, I haue encreased your waters with the teares of vnspotted 

150 thoughts and therefore let mee receiue the reward you promise : 

Endimion^ the truest friende to mee, and faithfullest louer to 

Cynthia^ is in such a dead sleepe, that nothing can wake or 

mooue him. 

Ger, Doost thou see any thing ? 
155 Eum, I see, in the same Filler, these wordes: When shee whose 
figure of all is the perfectest^ and neuer to bee measured — ahvaies one^ 
yet neuer the same — still inconstant^ yet neuer wauering — shall come 
and hisse Endimion in his sleepe^ hee shall then rise ; els neuer. This 
is straunge. 
160 Ger. What see you els ? 

Eum. There commeth ouer mine eyes either a darke mist, or 
vppon the fountaine a deepe thicknesse : for I can perceiue nothing. 
But howe am I deluded? or what difficult (nay impossible) thing 
is this? 
165 Ger. Me thinketh it easie. 

Eum, Good father and howe ? 
Ger, Is not a circle of all Figures the perfectest ? 
Eum. Yes. 

Ger. And is not Cynthia of all cyrcles the most absolute ! 
170 Eum. Yes. 

Ger, Is it not impossible to measure her, who still worketh by 
her influence, neuer standing at one stay ? 
Eum, Yes. 

Ger. Is shee not alwaies Cynthia^ yet seldome in the same 

i75bignesse; alwaies wauering in her waxing or wayning, that our 

bodies might the better bee gouemed, our seasons the daylier giue 

their increase ; yet neuer to bee remooued from her course, as long 

as the heauens continue theirs ? 

Eum, Yes. 

180 Ger, Then who can it bee but Cynthia^ whose vertues beeing all 

diuine, must needes bring things to passe that bee myraculous? 

Goe, humble thy selfe to Cynthia^ tell her the successe, of which 

145 on Athos Bak, 146 Phsenix Q Bl, F. Arays so all 176 be the better Dil, 

X 2 


5 2 ENDIMION [act hi, sc iv 

my selfe shall bee a witnesse. And this assure thy selfe, that shee 
that sent to finde meanes for his safetie, will now worke her cun- 
ning. 185 

Eum. How fortunate am I, if Cynthia be she that may doo it. 

Ger. Howe fonde art thou, if thou doo not beleeue it ? 

Eum, I will hasten thither, that I may intreat on my knees for 
succour, and imbrace in mine armes my friend. 

Ger, I will goe with thee, for vnto Cynthia must I discouer all 190 
my sorrowes, who also must worke in mee a contentment 

Eum, May I nowe knowe the cause ? 

Ger, That shall bee as wee walke, and . I doubt not but the 
straungnesse of my tale will take away the tediousnesse of our 
iourney. 195 

Eum, Let vs goe. 

Ger, I followe. Exeunt, 


SCiENA Prima. — {Before Corsitef Castle,) 

Tellus, Corsites. 

{Enter Tellus.) 
Tellus, Y Maruell Corsites giueth me so much libertie: all the 


worlde knowing his charge to bee so high, and his 
nature to bee most straunge; who hath so ill intreated Ladies of 
great honour, that he hath not suffered them to looke out of 
windowes, much lesse to walke abroade : it may bee hee is in loue 5 
with mee, for {Endimion, hard-harted Endimion^ excepted) what is 
he that is not enamourd of my beautie ? But what respectest thou 
the loue of all the world ? Endimion hates thee. Alas poore Endi- 
mion^ my malyce hath exceeded my loue : and thy faith to Cynthia 
quenched my affections. Quenched Tellus 1 nay kindled them 10 
a fresh ; in so much that I finde scorching flames for dead embers, 
and cruell encounters of warre in my though tes^ in steede of sweete 
parlees. Ah that I might once againe see Endimion \ accursed girle, 
what hope hast thou to see Endimion ? on whose head already are 
growne gray haires, and whose life must yeelde to Nature^ before 15 
Cynthia ende her displeasure. Wicked Dipsas^ and most deuilish 

187 fonde] silly F, 16 most] more F, Bak, 

ACT IV, SC l] 



Teilus, the one for cunning too exquisite the other for hate too 
intollerable. Thou wast commanded to weaue the stories & Poetries 
wherein were shewed both examples & punishments of tatling 

20 tongues^ and thou hast only imbrodered the sweet face of Endimion^ 
deuises of loue^ melancholy imaginations, and what not, out of thy 
worke, that thou shouldst studie to picke out of thy mind. But 
here cometh CorsiteSy I must seeme yeelding and stoute, ful of mild- 
nesse, yet tempered with a Maiestie : for if I be too flexible, I shall 

35 giue him more hope then I meane ; if too froward, enioy lesse 
liberty then I would; loue him I cannot, & therfore will practise 
tRat which is most customarie to our sex, to dissemble. 

Enter Corsites. 

Cor, Faire Teilus^ I perceiue you rise with the Larke, and to your / 
selfe sing with the Nightingale. 
30 Teilus, My Lord I haue no play-fellow but fancy : being barred of 
all companie I must question with my selfe, and make my thoughts 
my frindes. 

Cor, I would you would account my thoughtes also your friends, 

for they be such as are only busied in wondering at your beautie 

35 & wisdome : & some, such as haue esteemed your fortune too hard ; 

and diuers of that kind that offer to set you free, if you will set them 


Teilus, There are no colours so contrarie as white and blacke, 
nor Elements so disagreeing as fire and water, nor any thing so 
40 opposite as mens thoughts & their words. 

Cor, He that gaue Cassandra the gift of prophecying, with the 4 
curse that, spake shee neuer so true, shee should neuer be beleeued, 
hath I think poysoned the fortune of men, that vttering the ex- 
tremities of their inward passions, are alwayes suspected of outward 
45 periuries. 

Telius, WeU Corsites I will flatter my selfe, and beleeue you. 
What would you doe to enioy my loue ? 

Cor, Sette all the Ladies of the Castle free, and make you the 
pleasure of my life : more I cannot doe, lesse I will not. 
50 Telius, These be great wordes, and fit your calling: for Cap- 
taines must promise things impossible. But wil you doe one thing 

22 worke,] Dil. om, comma 27 customarie] contrarie all prev, eds. sex,] 

BL om. comma 32 frindes Q : friends Bl, rest 35 wisdome :] Bl. om, colon 
38 black and white Dil, 50 for before yoor F. Bak, 

." t 

-• 'f 


54 ENDIMION ^ ^ ^ [activ 

Cor, Any thing sweet Teiius, that am ready for ajf. 

Tellus, You knowe that on the Lunary bancke sleegeth Endimum. 

Cor, I knowe it. 55 

Tellus, If you will remoue him from that plac& b/ force, and 
conuey him into some obscure caue by pollicie, I giue^you here the 
faith of an vnspotted virgine, that you onelie shall possesse me as 
a louer, and in spight of malice haue mee for a wife. 

Cor, Remooue him Tellus ? Yes Tellus, hee shall bee remooued, 60 
and that so soone, as thou shalt as much commend my dilligence as 
my force. I goe. '^-^ 

Tellus, Stay, will your selfe attempt it i. 

Cor. I Tellus .• as I would haue none partaker of my sweete loue, 
so shall none be partners of my labours : but I pray thee goe at your 65 
best leysure, for Cynthia beginneth to rise, and if she discouer our 
loue we both perish, for nothing pleaseth her but the fairenesse of 
virginitie. All thinges must bee not onely without lust, but without 
suspicion of lightnes. 

Tellus, I will depart, and goe you to Enditnion. 70 

Cor, I flye Tellus, beeing of all men the most fortunate. r. .. 

Tellus. Simple Corsites, I haue set thee about a taske being but 
a man, y^ the gods thSselues cannot performe : for little doost thou 
knowe howe heauie his head lies, howe hard his fortune : but such 
shiftes must women haue to deceiue men, and vnder colour of things 75 
easie, intreat that which is impossible : otherwise we should be 
cQbred with importunities, oathes, sighes^ letters, and all implements 
of loue, which to one resolued to the contrary, are most lothsome. 
I will in, and laugh with the other Ladies at Corsites sweating. 


SCiENA Secunda. — {Gardens of the Palace, as before.) 

Samias and Dares, Epiton. 

(^Enter Samias and Dares.) 

Sam, Will thy master neuer awake ? 

Dar. No, I thinke hee sleepes for a wager : but how shall wee 
spende the time ? Sir Tophas is so farre in loue that he pineth in 
his bedde, and commeth not abroade. 

Sam. But here commeth Epi, in a pelting chafe. c 

73 y* om, Bl, mods. s. D. Samias and Dares, Epiton Q : SamiMi Dues 

and Epiton Bl. DU. F. , xs — , « 

sc ii] ENDIMION ss 

(^Enter Epiton.) 

E^. A poxe of all felse Prouerbes, and were a Prouerbe a Page, jf\ 
I would haue him by the eares. 

Sam. Why art thou angry ? 

Efii. Why ? you knowe it is sayd, the tyde tarieth no man. 
lo Safn, True. 

Epi. A monstrous lye; for I was tide two houres^ and tarried for f) 
one to vnlose mee. 

Dar. Ahs poor^ Epi, 

Epi, Poore? No, no, you base(-)conceited slaues, I am a most 
15 complyt Gentleman, although I bee in disgrace with sir Tophas, 

Dar, Art thou out with him ? 

EpL I, because I cannot gette him a lodging with Endtmion : hee 
would faine take a nappe for fortie or fifty yeeres. 

Dar, A short sleepe^ considering our long life, 
ao Sam, Is he still in loue ? 

Epi, In loue? why he doth nothing but make Sonets. 

Sam. Canst thou remember any one of his Poems ? 

Epi, I^ this is one. 

The beggar Loue that knows not where to lodge: 
35 At last within my hart when I slept, 

He crept, 
I wakt, and so my fancies began to fodge. 

Sam. That's a verie long verse. 

Epi, Why the other was shorte, the first is called from the thombe 

30 to the little finger, the second from the little finger to the elbowe, 

and some hee hath made to reach to the crowne of his head, and 

downe again to the sole of his foote : it is sette to the tune of the 

blacke Saunce^ ratio est^ because Dipsas is a black Saint 

Dar, Very wisely : but pray thee, Epi^ how art thou complet ? 
35 and beeing from thy Maister what occupation wilt thou take ? 

Epi, Know my harts, I am an absolute Microcosmus, a pettie 
worlde of my selfe, my library is my heade, for I haue no other ^ 
bookes but my braines : my wardrope on my backe, for I haue no 
more apparrell then is on my body j my armorie at my fingers ends, 

s. D. [Enter Epiton] inserted here by Bak, 14 base-conceited] base, con- 

ceited Bak, wrongly 24-7 The beggar Loue . . . fodge] so arranged F, Bak, : 
first as verse DiL 31 bath om, F. Bak, 32 sole] soule Q 33 

Sannce so all 36 Know Bak, : No all other eds, 39 hnger ends Bh F, : 

fingers' end Bak, 


S6 ENDIMION [act iv 

for I vse no other Artillarie then my nailes ; my treasure in my purse. 40 
Stc omnia mea mecum porto. 

Dar. Good ! 

Epi, Know^ syrs, my Pallace is pau'd with grasse^ and tyled with 
starres : for ccelo tegitur qui non habei vmam^ he that hath no house, 
must lie in the yard. 45 

Sam, A braue resolution. But how wilt thou spend thy time ? 

Epi, Not in any Melancholie sort : for mine exercise I will walke 
horses. • 

Dar, Too bad. 

Epi. Why is it not saide : It is good walking when one hath his ffi 
horse in his hand ? 

Sam, Worse, and worse ! but how wilt thou liue ? 

Epi, By angling : O tis a stately occupation to stande foure houres 
in a colde Morning, and to haue his nose bytten with frost, before hys 
baite be mumbled with a Fish. 55 

Dar. A rare attempt, but wilt thou neuer trauell ? 

Epi. Yes in a Westeme barge, when with a good winde and lustie 
pugges one may goe ten miles in two daies. 

Sam. Thou art excellent at thy choyse, but what pastime wilt thou 
vse, none ? 60 

Epi. Yes the quickest of all. 

Sam, What! dyce? 

Epi. No, when I am in hast, xxj games at Chesse, to passe a fewe 

Dar. A life for a little Lord, and full of quicknesse. 65 

Epi. Tush, let mee alone ! but I must needes see if I can finde 

where Endimion lieth : and then goe to a certaine fountaine hard by, 

where they say faithfull Louers shall haue althings they will aske. 

If I can finde out any of these, ego et Magister meus erimus in tuto^ 

I and my Maister shall be freendes. He is resolued to weep some 70 

three or foure payle-fuls, to auoyde the rume of loue that wambleth 

in his stomacke. 

Enter the Watch. 

Sam, Shall we neuer see thy Maister, Darts f 

Dar, Yes, let vs goe nowe, for to morrowe Cynthia will be 

there. 75 

43 Know Bak. : tio'w prtcecUng eds, ^4 celo Q 48 hones, Dam. F. Bah. 
misled by Bi. {sy^, D i a recto) where the foiUwing prefix appears as a catchword im 
the same line with horses 53 foure] all : query} for 63 one and twentie BL 
mods. 71 pales full Dil. : pailMi Bah, rheume Bl. F, Bak, : theme DiL 



sc. ii] ENDIMION S7 

Epi, I will goe with you. But howe shall wee see for the 
Watch ? 

Sam, Tush, let me alone ! He begin to them. Maisters God 
speede you. 
So I Watch. Sir boy, we are all sped alreadie. 

Epi, {aside). So me thinks, for they smell all of drinke, like 
a beggers beard. 

Dar. But I pray sirs, may we see Endimion f 

2 Watch. No, we are commanded in Cynthtas name that no man 
85 shall see him. 

Sam. No man ? Why we are but boyes. 

1 Watch. Masse, neighbours, hee sayes true ; for if I sweare I will 
neuer drinke my liquor by the quart, and yet call for two pints, I V 
thinke with a safe conscience I may carouse both. 

90 Dar. Pithily, and to the purpose. 

2 Watch. Tush, tush, neighbors, take me with you. 
Sam. This will grow bote. 
Dar. Let them alone. 
2 Watch. If I saie to my wife, wife I will haue no Reysons in my 

95 pudding, she puts in Corance, smal Reysons are Reysons, and boyes 
are men. Euen as my wife shoulde haue put no Reysons in my 
pudding, so shall there no boyes see Endimion. 
Dar* Learnedly. 

Epi. Let Maister Constable speake : I thinke hee is the wisest 
100 among you. 

Ma. Canst. You know neighbors tis an old said saw, 'children 
and fooles speake true.' 
All say. True. 

Ma. Const. Well, there you see the men bee the fooles, because 
105 it is prouided from the children. 
Dar. Good. 

Ma. Const. Then say I neighbors, that children must not see 
Endimion^ because children & fooles speak true. 
Epi. O wicked application ! 
110 Sam. Scuruily brought about ! 

I Watch. Nay he sais true, & therfore till Cynthia haue beene 
heere he shall not be vncouered. Therefore away ! 

S.D. [aside] supplied DU. 95 Corancel currants DiL Bak. loi on] 

an an Q loi-a no inv. commas Q Bl. DiL : itai. F. 103 All say Q 

BL F. : All J)il. Bak. : rf. note 

58 ENDIMION [act iv 

Dar, {aside to Sam. and £pi.). A watch, quoth you? a man may 
watch 7. yeres for a wise worde, & yet goe without it Their wits 
are all as rustie as their bils. — But come on Ma. Const, shall we haue 115 
a song before we goe ? 

Const. With all my hart. 

The second Song. 

Watch, CTand: who goes there? 

We charge you, appeare 
Fore our Constable here. 120 

(In the name of the Man in the Moone) 
To vs Bilmen relate, 
Why you stagger so late, 
And how you come drunke so soone. 
Pages, What are yee (scabs?) 

Watch, The Watch : 125 

This the Constable. 
Pages, A Patch. 

Const, Knock'em downe vnlesse they all stand. 

If any run away, 
Tis the old Watchmans play. 
To reach him a Bill of his hand. 150 

Pages, O Gentlemen hold^ 

Your gownes freeze with cold, . 
And your rotten teeth dance in your B^ad ; 
Epi, Wine, nothing shall cost yee. 

Sam, Nor huge fires to roast yee. 135 

Dares, Then soberly let vs be led. 
Const, Come my browne Bils wee*l roare, 

Bownce loud at Taueme dore, 
Omnes, And i*th' Morning steale all to bed. 


SCiENA Tertia. — (^The Grove^ with Endxmxon slewing on the 

lunary-bank {with double transfer^ to Gardens 1. 44, back to 

Grove 1. 75).) 

Corsites solus. 

Corsites, I am come in sight of the Lunary bank : without doubt 
Tellus doteth vpon me, and cunningly that I might not perceiue her 
loue, shee hath sette mee to a taske that is done before it is begunne. 

114 7. Q: leaen BL rest s.D. Thr second Song so Blount, from whom 

it is here given, Q Song without giving it 124 came Dit, 130 himl 

them Dil, s. D. Extuni ^ntal in BL F. before songi om, DiL 


Endimiofty you must change your pillowe ; and if you be not wearie 
5 of sleepe, I will carrie you where at ease you shall sleepe your fill. 
It were good that without more ceremonies I tooke him, least, beeing 
espyed, I be intrapt, and so incurre the displeasure of Cynthia^ who 
commonly setteth watch that Endimion haue no wrong. 

He lifts. 
What nowe, is your Maistership so heauie? or are you nayld 

lo to the ground ? Not styrre one whit ? then vse all thy force 
though he feele it and wake. What ! stone still ? turnd, I thinke, 
to earth, with lying so long on the earth. Didst not thou, Corsites^ 
before Cynthia pul vp a tree, that fortie yeeres was fastned with 
rootes and wrethed in knots to the grounde? Didst not thou 

15 with maine force pull open the yron Gates, which no Ram or Engine 
could moue ? Haue my weak thoughts made braunfallen my strong ^ . 
armes? or is it the nature of loue or the Quintessence of the mind /^^-^"^^ ^ 
to breede numnesse, or lythemesse, or I knowe not what lanjg[uishing 
in my loynts and sinewes, beeing but the base strings of my bodie? 

ao Or dooth the remembraunce of Tellus so refine my spirits into 

a matter so subtill and diuine, that the other fieshie parts cannot 

worke whilst they muse ? Rest thy selfe, rest thy selfe : nay, rent 

thy selfe in peeces Corsites^ and striue in spight of loue, fortune, and 

nature, to lift vppe this dulled bodie, heauier then deade, and more 

35 sencelesse then death. 

Enter Fayries. 

But what are these so fayre fiendes that cause my ha3n'es to stand 
vpright, and spirits to fall downe? Hags — out alas ! Nymphes ! — 
I craue pardon. Aye me, out ! what doe I heere ? 

The Fayries daunce^ and with a song pinch hitn^ and hee falleth 

a sleepe : they kisse Endimion, and depart. 

The third Song by Fairies. 
Omnes, ID Inch him, pinch him, blacke and blue, 

30 Sawcie mortalls must not view 

What the Queene of Stars is doing, 
Nor pry into our Fairy woing. 

s. D. He Ms. Q BL : He tries to lift Endymion Dil. F, Bak. 1 2 thou not F. 

Bak. 18 Dimmesse Q BL : mumnesse F. : numbness DiL Bak, what] 

what, Q BL ao so om, DiL 22 rent] rend DiL Bak, 27-8 Hags . . . I *] 
hags, out alas, Nymphes I Q BL F. : Hags, out I — Alas ! nymphs, I Dil, Bak. 28 
Aye] Ah DiL out ! what DiL : out what Q BL : but what F. Bak, heere? 
Q BL F. i.e. hear as DiL Bak, s. D. The Fayries daunce &c.] Q BL DiL F, : 

but Q kas no further direction for the song, nor the song itself which is given 
from BL announced as in the text they] thy Q 

6o ENDIMION [act iv 

1 Fairy, Pinch him blue. 

2 Fairy. And pinch him blacke. 

3 Fairy. Let him not lacke 35 

Sharpe nailes to pinch him blue and red. 
Till sleepe has rock*d his addle head. 

4 Fairy. For the trespasse hee hath done, 

Spots ore all his flesh shall runne. 

Kisse Endimion^ kisse his eyes, 4^ 

Then to our Midnight Heidegyes. 

Exeunt {leaving Endimion and CORSITES sleeping). 

{Enter) Cynthia, Floscula, Semele, Panelion, Zontes, 

Pythagoras, Gyptes. 

Cynth. You see Pythagoras what ridiculous opinions you bold, 
and I doubt not but you are nowe of another minde. 

Pythag. Madam, I plainlie perceiue that the perfection of your 
brightnesse hath pearced through the thicknesse that couered my 45 
minde ; in so much that I am no lesse gladde to be reformed^ then 
ashamed to remember my grosenes. 

Gyptes. They are thrise fortunate that Hue in your Pallace, where 
Trueth is not in colours^ but life, vertues not in imagination, but 
execution. 50 

Cynth. I have alwaies studied to haue rather liuing vertues then 
painted Gods ; the bodie of Trueth, then the tombe. But let vs 
walke to Endimion^ it may bee it lyeth in your Artes to deliuer him: 
as for EumenideSy I feare he is dead. 

Pythag. I haue alledged all the naturall reasons I can fcnr such 55 
a long sleepe. 

Gyptes. I can doe nothing till I see him. 

Cynth. Come Floscula y I am sure you are glad that you shall 
behold Endimion. 

Flosc. I were blessed if I might haue him recouered. 60 

Cynth. Are you in loue with his person ? 

Flosc. No, but with his vertue. 

Cynth. What say you, Semele f 

Sem. Madame, I dare say nothing for feare I ofTende. 

Cynth. Belike you cannot speake except you bee spightfiilL 65 
But as good be silent as saucie. Panelion, what punishment were 

s. D. [leaving . . . Corsites &c.] Q Bl. F. add Corsites to the nucdeding Hsi 
of entries : Corsites sleeping Dil. Bak, s. D. Zontb BL Dil. F. 

sciii] ENDIMION 6i 

fitte for Semele^ in whose speech and thoughts is onely contempt 
and sowrenesse? 

Panel I loue not Madam to giue any iudgement. Yet sith your 
70 highnesse commaundeth, I thinke, to commit her tongue close ^^ r/j^ 

prisoner to her mouth. ^-^ 

Cynth. Agreed ; Semele^ if thou speake thys twelue-month, thou / ^ *^ 

f A 


shalt forfet thy tongue. — Behold EndimionI alas, poore Gentleman, ' " ' J\ 
hast thou spent thy youth in sleepe, that once vowed all to my ^ ' ^ .^^»>^^'^ 

75 seruice? Hollow eyes? gray haires? wrinckled cheekes? and 
decayed limmes ? Is it destinie, or deceite that hath brought this 
to passe? If the first, who could preuent thy wretched starres? 
If the latter, I would I might knowe thy cruell enemie. I fauoured 
thee Endimion for thy honor, thy vertues, thy affections : but to bring 

80 thy thoughts within the compasse of thy fortunes, I haue seemed 
strange, that I might haue thee staied; and nowe are thy dayes 
ended before my fauour beginne ? But whom haue we heere ? is it 
not Corsitesf • 

Zon. It is ; but more like a Leopard then a man. 

85 Cynth, Awake him. (Zontes wo^^^wj Corsites.) Howe nowe, 
CorsiUSy what make you heere ? How came you deformed ? Looke 
on thy hands, and then thou seest the picture of thy face. 

Cors, Myserable wretch, and accursed. How am I deluded? 
Madame, I aske pardon for my offence, and you see my fortune 

90 deserueth pittie. 

Cynth, Speake on, thy offence cannot deserue greater punishment : 
but see thou rehearse the trueth, else shalt thou not find me as thou 
wishest me. 

Cors, Madam, as it is no offence to be in loue beeing a man 

95 mortall, so I hope can it be no shame to tell with whom, my Ladie 
beeing heauenlie. Your Maiestie committed to my charge fayre 
TelluSy whose beautie in the same moment tooke my hart captiue, 
that I vndertooke to carry her bodie prisoner. Since that time 
haue I found such combats in my thoughts betweene loue and dutie, 
100 reuerence and affection, that I coulde neyther endure the conflict, 
nor hope for the conquest. 

Cynth, In loue ? A thing farre vnfitting the name of a Captaine, 
and (as I thought) the tough and vnsmoothed nature of Corsites, 
But forth. 

69 any] my Dil, 79 but] but, Bak, wrongly s. D. [ZONTES &c.] 

supplied Bak, 96 the before faire F, Bak, 


62 ENDIMION [act iv 

Cors, Feeling this continuall warre, I thought rather by parlee to 105 

yeeld, then by certaine danger to perrish. I vnfolded to Tellus the 

depth of my affections, and framed my tongue to vtter a sweet tale 

of loue, that was wont to sound nothing but threats of warre, Shee 

^ •' too fayre to be true, and too false for one so fayre, after a nice 

deniall, practised a notable deceyt; commaunding mee to remooue no 
Endimion from this Caban, and carrie him to some darke Caue; 
which I seeking to accomplish, found imppssible ; and so by Fayries 
or fiendes haue beene thus handled. 

Cynth, Howe say you, my Lordes, is not Tellus alwaies practising 
of some deceites? In sooth Corsites^ thy face is nowe too foule for 115 
a Louer, and thine hart too fonde for a Souldiour. You may see, 
when Warriors become wantons, howe theyr manners alter with 
theyr faces. Is it not a shame Corsites^ that hauing liued so long in 
Mars his Campe thou shouldest now bee rockt in Venus Cradle? 
Doost thou weare Cupids Quiuer at thy gyrdle, and make Launces i^o 
of lookes ?. Well Corsites, rouse thy selfe, and be as thou hast beene ; 
and let Tellus who is made all of loue, melt herselfe in her owne 

Cors. Madam, I doubt not but to recouer my former state ; for 
Tellus beautie neuer wrought such loue in my minde, as now her 125 
deceite hath dispight ; and yet to be reuenged of a woman, were 
a thing then loue it selfe more womanish. 

Gyptes, These spots Gentleman are to be worne out, if you nibbe 
them ouer with this Lunarie ; so that in place where you receiued this 
maime, you shall finde a medicine. i^o 

Cors. I thanke you for that. The Gods blesse mee frO loue & these 
prettie Ladies that haunt this greene. 

Fbsc, Corsites^ I would Tellus saw your amiable face, 

ZonL How spightfully Semele laugheth, that dare not speake. 

Cynth, Coulde you not stirre Endimion with that doubled strength 155 
of yours ? 

Cors, Not so much as his finger with all my force. 

Cynth, Pythagoras and Gyptes^ what thinke you of Endimion t 
what reason is to be giuen, what remedie ? 

jyth, Madame it is impossible to yeeld reason for things that 140 
happen not in compasse of nature. It is most certaine^ that some 
strange enchauntment hath bound all his sences. 

107 depths Dtl. 119 Mars his] Mars' Dil. : Mare's BaJk, 126 hath] and 
Dil. 128 gentlemen F, 129 the de/org ^U/cc Dil. BaJk, 130 maine Q 


Cynth, What say you, Gyptes f 

Gyptes, With Pythagoras^ that it is enchauntment, and that so 

145 strange that no Arte can vndoe it, for that heauines argueth a mallice 

vnremooueable in the Enchauntresse ; and that no power can ende 

it, till shee die that did it, or the heauens shew some meanes more 

then miraculous. 

Flo5€» O Endimion^ could spight it self deuise a mischiefe so 
J5<> monstrous as to makelhee dead with life, and lyuing beeing altogether 
dead? Where others number their yeeres, their houres, their 
minutes, and steppe to age by staires, thou onely hast thy yeeres 
and times in a cluster, being olde before thou remembrest thou wast 
155 Cynth, No more Floscula^ pittie dooth him no good : I would 
any thing els might, and I vowe by the vnspotted honour of a Ladie 
he should not misse it : but is this all Giptes, that is to be done ? 

Gyptes, All as yet. It may be that either the Enchauntresse shall 

dye, or els be discouered : if either happen, I will then practise the 

160 vtmost of my arte. In the meane season, about this Groue would 

I haue a watch, and the first liuing thing that toucheth Endimion^ 

to be taken. 

Cynth, Carsites what say you, will you vndertake this ? 
Cars. Good Madame, pardon mee ! I was ouertaken too late. 
165 I should rather breake into the middest of a maine battaile, than 
againe fall into the handes of those fayre babies. 

Cynth, Well, I will prouide others. Pithagoras and Giptes^ you 
shall yet remaine in my Courte, till I heare what may be done in this 
170* jyth. Wee attende. 

Cynth, Let vs goe in^ Exeunt, 


SCiENA Prima. — (^The Grave^ with Endimion sleeping as before.") 

(Enter} Samias, Dares. 

Sam. i? Vmenides hath tolde such strange tales as I may well wonder 
at them, but neuer beleeue them. 
Z>ar, The other old man, what a sad speech vsed he, that 
caused vs almost all to weepe. Cynthia is so desirous to knowe the 

148 then Q only 165 would Dil, 166 in ViU 

64 ENDIMION [act v 

experiment of her owne vertue, and so willing to ease Endimions 5 
harde fortune, that she no sooner heard the discourse, but shee 
made her selfe in a readines to trye the euent. 

Sam, Wee will also see the euent ; but whist ! heere commeth 
Cynthia^ with all her traine ! Let vs sneake in amongst them. 

Enter Cynthia, Floscula, Semele, Eumenides, Panelion, &c 

Cynth, Eumenides, it cannot sinke into my heade that I should 10 
bee signified by that sacred Fountaine, for many thinges are there in 
the worlde to which those words may be applyed. 

Eum, Good Madame vouchsafe but to trye, els shall I thinke my 
selfe most vnhappie, that I asked not. my sweete Mistris. 

Cynth. Will you not yet tell me her name? 15 

Eum. Pardon mee good Madame, for if Endimion awake, bee 
shall : my selfe haue sworne neuer to reueale it. 

Cynth. Well, let vs to Endimion. I will not be so statelie (good 
Endimion)not to stoope to doe thee good : and if thy libertie consist 
in a kisse from mee, thou shalt haue it. And although my mouth ao 
hath beene heere tofore as vntouched as my thoughts, yet now to 
recouer thy life, (though to restore thy youth it be impossible) I will 
do that to Endimion which yet neuer mortall man coulde host of 
heretofore, nor shall euer hope for heereafter. 

Shee kisseth him, 

Eum. Madame, hee beginneth to stirre. 25 

Cynth. Soft Eumenides^ stand still. 

Eum. Ah, I see his eyes almost open. 

Cynth. I commaund thee once againe, stirre not: I wil stand 
behinde him. 

Fan. AVhat doe I see, Endimiotk almost awake ? 30 

Eum. Endimion ! Endimion I art thou deafe or dumbe ? or hath 
this long sleepe taken away thy memorie ? Ah my sweet Endimion^ 
seest thou not Eumenides ? thy faithful friende, thy i^yihiyiVi Eumenides^ 
who for thy saftie hath beene carelesse of his owne content. Speake 
Endimion! Endimion/ Endimion/ 35 

End. Endimion f I call to minde such a name. 

Eum. Hast thou forgotten thy selfe, Endimion? then do I not 
maruell thou remembrest not thy friend. I tell thee thou art 

7 a om. Dil. 8 will! Q s. D. EuMENmES, Panblton, &c] Bah. first 

inserts the needed Eumenides, and needlessly substitutes for * &c. 2U>ictbs, 
Pythagoras, and Gyptes 

sc i] ENDIMION 6s 

Endimian^ and I Eumenides : beholdealso Cynthia^ by whose fauour 
40 thou art awaked, and by whose vertue thou shalt continue thy naturall 


Cynth, Endimian^ speake sweete Endimian^ knowest thou not 

Cynthia t 
End. O heauens, whom doe I beholde? faire Cynihiay diuine 
45 Cynthia t 

Cynth. I am Cynthia^ and thou Endimion, 

End. Endimion t What do I heere? What, a gray beard? 

hollow eyes? withered bodie? decayed lymbes? and all in one 

50 Eum. One night? thou hast heere slept fortie yeeres, by what 

Enchauntresse as yet it is not knowne: and behold, the twig to 

which thou laiedst thy head, is now become a tree. Callest thou 

not Eumenides to remembrance ? 

End. Thy name I doo remember by the sounde, but thy fauour 
55 I doe not yet call to minde : onely diuine Cynthia, to whom time, 

fortune, destinie, & death, are subiect, I see and remember^ and in 

all humilitie I regard and reuerence. 

Cynth. You haue good cause to remember Eumenides, who hath 

for thy safetie forsaken his ownc solace. 
^ End. Am I that Endimion who was wont in Court to leade my 

life, and in lustes, turneys, and armes to exercise my youth ? am 

I that Endimion f 
Eum. Thou art that Endimion, and I Eumenides, wilt thou not 

yet call me to remembrance? 
65 End. Ah sweete Eumenides, I now perceiue thou art hee, and 

that my selfe haue the name of Endimion; but that this should bee 

my bodie I doubt : for howe coulde my curled lockes bee turned to 

gray haires, and my stronge bodie to a dying weaknesse, hauing 

waxed olde and not knowing it. 
70 Cynth. Well Endimion arise, a while sit downe, for that thy 

limmes are stifle, and not able to stay thee, and tell what hast thou 

scene in thy sleepe all this while ? What dreames, visions, thoughts, 

and fortunes? For it is impossible, but in so long time, thou 

shouldest see things straunge. 
75 End. Fayre Cynthia, I will rehearse what L haue scene, humblie 

desiring that when I exceede in length you giue me warning, that 

47 heere Q Bl F. : hemr Dil. Bah, with dmbtful propriety What, Q Bl. 

What I Dil. : F, om. comma 68 a om. F. 70, 71 thy limmes J my limbes F. 


66 ENDIMION [actv 

I may ende : for to vtter all I haue to speake would bee troublesome, 
although happilie the straungenesse may somewhat abate the tedious- 

Cynth, Well Endimion begin. 80 

End, Me thought I sawe a Ladie passing faire, but verie mis- 
cheeuous ; who in the one hande carryed a knife with which shee 
offered to cut my throte, and in the other a looking-glasse, wherein 
, seeing how ill anger became Ladies, shee refrained from intended 
■ violence. She was accompanied with other Damsels, one of which 85 
with a Sterne countenance, & as it were with a setled malice en- 
grauen in her eyes, prouoked her to execute mischeefe: an other 
with visage sad and constant onelie in sorrow, with her armes crossed^ 
and watery eyes, seemed to lament my fortune, but durst not offer 
to preuent the force. I started in my sleepe, feehng my verie veines 9° 
to swell, and my sinewes to stretch with feare, and such a colde 
sweate bedewed all my bodie, that death it selfe could not be so 
terrible as the vision. 

Cynth, A straunge sight. Giptes at our better leysure shall ex- 
pound it. 95 

End, After long debating with her selfe, mercie ouercame anger ; 
and there appeared in her heauenly face such a diuine Maiestie, 
mingled with a sweete mildenes, that I was rauished with the sight 
aboue measure, and wished that I might haue enioied the sight 
without end ; and so she departed with the other Ladyes, of which 100 
the one retained still an vnmoueable crueltie, the other a constant 

Cynth, Poore Efidimion^ how wast thou affrighted ? What els ? 

End, After her immediatly appeared an aged man with a beard 
as white as snow, carying in his hand a book with three leaues, ^^5 
& speaking as I remSber these words. Endimion^ receiue this booke 
with three leaues, in which are contained coimsels, policies, and 
pictures : and with that he offered mee the booke, which I reiected : 
wherwith, moued with a disdainefull pittie, hee rent the first leafe in 
a thousand shiuers; the second time hee offered it, which I refused ^^^ 
also ; at which bending his browes, and pitching his eyes fast to the 
ground, as though they were fixed to the earth, and not againe to 
be remoued — then sodainlie casting them vp to the heauens, he tore 
in a rage the second leafe, and offered the booke only with one 
leafe. I know not whether feare to offende, or desire to knowe 115 

9a all 9m, Dill, loi an om, Dil, 105 and before carrying DiL 

sc. i] ENDIMION 67 

some strange thing, moued mee : I tooke the booke, and so the olde 
man vanished. 

Cynth. What diddest thou imagine was in the last leafe? 

End, There portraid to life^ with a colde quaking in euery ioynt, 

1 30 I behelde many wolues barking at thee Cynthiay who hauing ground 
their teeth to bite, did with striuing bleede themselues to death. 
There might I see ingratitude with an hundred eyes, gazing for ^^ 
benefites^ and with a thousand teeth, gnawing on the bowelles where- 
in shee was bred. Trecherie stoode all cloathed in white, with ^ 

125 a smyling countenance, but both her handes bathed in blood. ^ 
Enuye with a pale and megar face (whose bodie was so leane, that 
one might tell all her bones, and whose garment was so totterd, that 
it was easie to number euery thred) stood shooting at starres, whose 
dartes fell downe againe on her owne face. There might I beholde 

130 Drones, or Beetles, I knowe not howe to terme them, creeping vnder 
the winges of a princely Eagle, who being carried into her neast, 
sought there to sucke that veine, that woulde haue killed the Eagle. 
I mused that thinges so base, shoulde attempt a facte so barbarous, ^ ^ 
or durst imagine a thing so bloody. And manie other thinges . ' ■ 

135 Madame, the repeticion whereof may at your better leysure seeme 
more pleasing: for Bees surfette sometimes with honnie, and the s 
Gods are glutted with harmony^ and your highnesse may be dulled 
with delight 

Cynih, I am content to bee dieted, therefore lette vs in. Eu- 

140 menides^ see that Endimion bee well tended, least eyther eating 
immoderatlie, or sleeping againe too long, hee fall into a deadly 
surfette, or into his former sleepe. 

See this also bee proclaimed, that whosoeuer will discouer this 
practise, shall haue of Cynthia infinite thankes> and no small re- 

I -4 5 wardes. Exit 

Elosc, Ah Endimion^ none so ioyfull as Fioscuia of thy restoring. 

Eum. Yes, JFIoscuia, let Eumenides be somewhat gladder, and doe 

not that wrong to the setled friendship of a man, as to compare it 

with the light affection of a woman. Ah my deere friend Endimion^ 

1 50 suffer mee to dye with gazing at thee. 

End, Eumenides y thy friendshippe is immortall, and not to be 
conceiued ; and thy good will, Fioscuia^ better then I haue deserued. 
But let vs all wayte on Cynthia : I maruell Semele speaketh not 
a word. 

J 19 I before portraid Q Bl, ioynt. Q 127 all om, Dil, tattered Dil, Bak, 

F 2 


68 ENDIMION [actv 

Eum, Because if shee doe^ shee loseth her tongue. 

End, But how prospereth your loue ? 

Bum, I neuer yet spake worde since your sleepe. 

End, I doubt not but your affection is olde, and your appetite 

Eum, No Endimion^ thine hath made it stronger, and nowe are i6o 
my sparkes growne to flames, and my fancies almost to frenzies: 
but let vs foUowe, and within wee will debate all this matter at large. 


SCiENA Secunda. — (^Gardens of the Palace,) 

Sir Tophas, Epiton. 

Top, Epi^ loue hath iustled my libertie from the wall, and taken 
the vpper hand of my reason. 

EpL Let mee then trippe vp the heeles of your affection, and 
thrust your goodwill into the gutter. 

Top, No Epi^ Loue is a Lorde of misrule, and keepeth Christmas 5 
in my corps. 

EpL No doubt there is good cheere : what dishes of delight doth 
his Lordshippe feast you withal ? 

Top, First, with a great platter of plum-porrige of pleasure^ wherein 
is stued the mutton of mistrust. 10 

EpL Excellent loue lappe. 

Top, Then commeth a Pye of patience, a Henne of honnie, 
a Goose of gall, a Capon of care, and many other Viandes^ some 
sweete and some sowre ; which proueth loue to bee, as it was saide 
of in olde yeeres, Duke venenum, 15 

EpL A braue banquet. 

Top. But Epiy I praye thee feele on my chinne, some thing 
prycketh mee. What doost thou feele or see. 

EpL There are three or foure little haires. 

Top, I pray thee call it my bearde. Howe shall I bee troubled ao 
when this younge springe shall growe to a great wood ! 

EpL O, sir, your chinne is but a quyller yet, you will be most 
maiesticall when it is full fledge. But I maruell that you loue JDipsas, 
that old Crone. 

x6o thine] time Di/. 161 frenzy £>i/, 8 with de/. withall BL mcds. 

9 plnmb Dil, 1 1 loue lappe] love-pap Bak, 7vho thinks the \ a printer's 

error 14 and cm, Dil. 14-5 as was said of it Bak. 23 fledged Dil. Bak. 

sen] ENDIMION 69 

^5 Tofi. Agnosco veteris vestigia flamma^ 1 loue the smoke of an 
olde fyre. 
Epi. Why shee is so colde^ that no fyre can thawe her thoughts. 
Top. It is an olde goose, Epi^ that will eate no oates ; olde Kine 
will kicke^ olde Rats gnawe cheese, and olde sackes will haue much 
30 patching : I preferre an old Cony before a Rabbet sucker, and an 
ancient henne before a younge chicken peeper. 

Epi, {aside), Argumentum ab aniiquitatey My master loueth 
anticke worke. 

Top, Giue mee a pippin that is withered like an olde wife. 
35 Epi, Good, sir. 

Tap, Then, a contrario sequitur argumentum, Giue me a wife 
that lookes like an olde pippin. 

Epi, {aside). Nothing hath made my master a foole, but flat 
40 Tcp, Knowest thou not that olde wine is best ? 
Epi, Yes. 

Top, And thou knowest that like will be like ? 
Epi. I. 

Top. And thou knowest that Venus loued the best Wine. '- 
45 Epi. So. 

Top, Then I conclude, that Venus was an olde woman in an olde 
cuppe of wine. For, est Venus in vinis, ignis in ignefuit. 

Epi, O lepidum caputs O mad cap master ! You were worthy to 
winne Dipsas^ were shee as olde againe, for in your loue you haue 
5owome the nappe of your witte quite off, and made it thredbare. 
But soft, who comes heere ? 

{Enter Samias and Dares.) 
Top, My solicitors. 

Sam, All baile sir Tophas, how feele you your selfe ? 
Top. Statelie in euery ioynt, which the common people terme 
55 stifnes. Doth Dipsas stoope? wyll shee yeeld? will she bende? 
Dar, O sir as much as you would wish, for her chin almost 
toucheth her knees. 

Epi. Maister, she is bent I warrant you. 
Top, What conditions doth she aske ? 
60 Sam, Shee hath vowed shee will neuer loue anie that hath not 
a tooth in his head lesse then she. 

s. D. [aside] asides of this scene first marked Dil. s. D. [Enter &€.] 

supplied Dil, 

70 ENDIMION [act v 

Top. How manie hath shee ? 

Dar, One. 

Epi. That goeth harde Maister, for then you must haue none. 

Top. A small request, and agreeable to the grauitie of her yeeres. 65 
What shoulde a wise man doe with his mouth full of bon^. like a 
Chamell house ? The Turtle true hath nere a tooth. 

Sam. (^to Epi.). Thy Maister is in a notable vaine, that will loose 
his teeth to be like a Turtle. 

Epi. {aside to Sam.). Let him loose his tongue to, I care not 70 

Dar. Nay, you must also haue no nayles, for shee long since hath 
cast hers. 

Top. That I yeelde to : what a quiet life shal Dipsas and I leade, 
when wee can neither byte nor scratch ! You may see, youthes, how 
age prouides for peace. 75 

Sam. {aside to Epi.). How shal we doe to make him leaue his 
loue, for we neuer spake to her ? 

Dar. Let me alone. — ( To Sir Tophas.) Shee is a notable Witch, 
and hath turnde her maide Bagoa to an Aspen tree, for bewraying 
her secretes. 80 

Top. I honor her for her cunning ; for now when I am wearie of 
walking on two legges, what a pleasure may she doe mee to tume me 
to some goodly Asse, and help mee to foure. 

Dar. Nay, then I must tell you the troth : her husband Geron is 
come home, who this fifty yeeres hath had her to wife. 85 

Top. What doe I heare ? Hath she an husbande ? Goe to the 
Sexton, and tell him desire is deade, and will him to digge his 
graue. O heauens, an husbande ? What death is agreeable to my 
fortune ? 

Sam. Be not desperate, and we will helpe you to find a young 90 

Top. I loue no grissels ; they are so brittle, they will cracke like 
glasse, or so dainty, that if they bee touched they are straight of the 
fashion of waxe : Animus maioribus instat. I desire olde Matrons. 
What a sight would it be to embrace one whose hayre were as orient 95 
as the pearle ! whose teeth shal be so pure a watchet, that they shall 
staine the truest Turkis ! whose nose shall throwe more beames from 
it then the fierie Carbuncle ! whose eyes shall be enuirond about with 

67 channel house Q 68 lose Dil. Bak. 70 lose DiL Bak, too 

Bl. rest s. D. [To SjR ToPH as] supplied Bak. 84 is] has Dil, 87 

Sexteene Q wills Dil. 89 fortunes Dil. 95 it would be Di}. 

were] was Dil. 96 the om. DiL 

sail] ENDIMION 71 

rednesse exceeding the deepest Corall ! And whose h'ppes might 
100 compare with siluer for the palenesse ! Such a one if you can help 
me to, I will by peece-meale curtoll my affections towardes Dipsas, 
and walke my swelling thoughts till they be cold. 

Epi. Wisely prouided. How say you, my freendes, will you angle 
for my Maisters cause ? 
105 Sam, Most willingly. 

Dar, If wee speede him not shortly, I will burne my cappe : we 
will serue him of the spades, and digge an old wife out of the graue 
that shall be answerable to his grauitie. 

Tap. Youthes, adiew : hee that bringeth mee first newes, shall 
110 possesse mine inheritance. (^Exit Sir Tophas.) 

Dar, What, is thy Maister landed ? 
EpL Know you not that my Maister is Liber tenens f 
Sam. What's that? 

Epi. A Free-holder. But I will after him. 
115 Sam, And wee to heare what newes of Endimion for the con- 
clusion. Exeunt, 

SCiENA Tertia. — {The same,} 

(^Enter) Panelion, Zontes. 

Pan, Who would haue thought that Tellus beeing so fayre by 
nature, so honourable by byrth, so wise by education^ woulde haue 
entred into a mischiefe to the Gods so odious, to men so detestable^ 
and to her freend so malicious. 
5 Zon, If Bagoa had not bewraied it^ howe then shoulde it haue 
come to light ? But wee see that Golde and fayre words are of force 
to corrupt the strongest men; And therefore able to worke sillie 
women like waxe. 
Pan, I maruell what Cynthia will determine in this cause. 
10 Zon, I feare, as in all causes^ heare of it in iustice, and then iudge 
of it in mercy : for howe can it be that shee that is vnwilling to punish 
her deadliest foes with dysgrace, will reuenge iniuries of her trayne 
with death. 
Pan, That olde witch Dipsas^ in a rage, hauing vnderstoode her 
15 practise to bee discouered, turned poore Bagoa to an Aspen tree. 

loi curtail Bl, F, : curtail Dil, : curtal Bak. s. D. [Exit Sir Tophas] 

supplied Bak, 4 friends /?i/. 

72 ENDIMION [actv 

But let vs make hast and bring Tellus before Cynthia^ for she was 
comming out after vs. 

Zon. Let vs goe. JSxeunt, 

{Enter) Cynthia, Semele, Floscula, Dipsas, Endimion, 
EuMENiDES, (Geron, Pvthagoras, Gvptes, and 

Sir Tophas). 

Cynth. DipsaSy thy yeeres are not so manie as thy vices; yet 
more in number then commonly nature dooth affoorde, or iustice 20 
shoulde permit. Hast thou almost these fiitie yeeres practised that 
detested wickednes of witchcraft ? Wast thou so simple, as for to 
C r, 'C know the nature of Simples, of all creatures to be most sinfull ? 

Thou hast threatned to tume my course awry, and alter by thy 
damnable Arte the gouernment that I now possesse by the eternal! 25 
Gods. But knowe thou Dipsas, and let all the Enchaunters knowe, 
that Cynthia, beeing placed for light on earth, is also protected by 
the powers of heauen. Breath out thou mayst wordes, gather thou 
mayst hearbes, finde out thou maist stones agreeable to thine Arte, 
yet of no force to appall my heart, in which courage is so rooted, 30 
and constant perswasion of the mercie of the Gods so grounded, that 
all thy witch-craft I esteeme as weake, as the world dooth thy case 

Thys noble Gentleman Geron, once thy husband, but nowe thy 
mortall hate, didst thou procure to lyue in a Deserte, almost des- 35 
perate. Endimion, the flowre of my Courte, and the hope of suc- 
ceeding time, hast thou bewitched by Arte, before thou wouldest 
suffer him to florish by nature. 

Dipsas, Madam, thinges past may be repented, not recalled : 
there is nothing so wicked that I haue not doone, nor any thing so 40 
wished for as death. Yet among al the things that I committed, 
there is nothing so much tormenteth my rented and ransackt 
thoughts, as that in the prime of my husbands youth I diuorced 
him by my deuillish Arte ; for which, if to die might be amendes, 
I would not Hue till to morrowe. If to Hue and still be more miser- 45 
able would better content him, I would wish of all creatures to be 
oldest and vgliest. 

Geron. Dipsas, Thou hast made this difference betweene me and 

s.D. [Geron . . . Sir Tophas] su}}lied Bak, aa>3 Wast thoa . . . most 

tinfull 7 so punctuated Q Bl. F, : Bak* om, comma at simple : DiL punctuates . . . 
simple, . . . simplest . . . sinful ! 25 that cm. DiL 37 a brf. light DH^ 

47 the before oldest DiL 

sc. Ill] ENDIMION 73 

Endimion^ that being both young, thou hast caused mee to wake in 
50 melanchoHe, loosing the ioyes of my youth^ and hym to sleepe^ not 
remembring youth. 

Cynth, Stay, heere commeth Tellus : we shall nowe knowe all. 

{Re-enter Panelion and Zontes with Corsites and Tellus.) 

Cars. I woulde to Cynthia thou couldest make as good an excuse 
in truth, as to me thou hast done by wit 

55 Tellus. Truth shall be mine answere, and therefore I will not 
studie for an excuse. 

Cynth, Is it possible Tellus^ that so few yeres should harbor so 
many mischiefes ? Thy swelling pride haue I borne, because it is 
a thing that beautie maketh blamelesse, which the more it exceedeth 

60 fairenes in measure, the more it stretcheth it selfe in disdaine. Thy 

deuises against Corsites I smyle at ; for that wits, the sharper they . t ^ 
are, the shrewder they are. But this vnacquainted and most vn- 
naturall practise with a vile Enchauntresse against so noble a Gen- 
tleman as Endimiony I abhorre as a thing most malicious, and will 

65 reuenge as a deede most monstrous. 

And as for you^ Dipsas^ I will send you into the Deserte amongst 
wilde beastes^ and try whether you can cast Lyons, Tygars^ Bores, 
and Beares^ into as deade a sleepe as you did Endimion ; or turne 
them to trees, as you haue doone Bagoa, But tell me Tellus^ what 

70 was the cause of this cruel part, farre vnfitting thy sexe, in which 
nothing should be but simplenes : and much disagreeing from thy 
face, in which nothing seemed to bee but softnes. 

Tellus, Diuine Cynthia^ by whom I receiue my life, and am con- 
tent to ende it, I can neyther excuse my faulte without lying, nor 

75 confesse it witl^out shame ; Yet were it possible that in so heauenlie 
thoughts as yours, there coulde fall such earthly motions as mine, 
I would then hope, if not to bee pardoned without extreame punish- 
ment, yet to be heard without great maruell. 

Cynth, Say on, Tellus \ I cannot imagine anie thing that can 

80 colour such a crueltie. 

Tellus, Endimion^ that Endimion in the prime of his youth, so _ 
rauisht my hart with loue, that to obtaine my desires, I coulde not !^ ^ 
finde meanes, nor to resi<s)te them, reason. 

s. D. [Re-enter &c] so first Bohr, Enter Corsites, Tellus, Panblion, &c. 
preadtngeds. 73 bee] me Dii, 80 a am, Dil, 83 lesiste] resite Q : 

recite Bl, mods. 

74 ENDIMION [act v 

What was shee that fauoured not Endimion^ being young, wise, 
honorable, and vertuous ; besides, what mettall was shee made of 85 
(be shee mortall) that is not affected with the spice, nay, infected 
with the poyson of that (not to be expressed, yet alwaies to be felt) 
Loue ? which breaketh the braines, and neuer brooseth the browe : 
consumeth the hart, and neuer toucheth the skinne : and maketh 
a deepe wounde to be felt, before any skarre at all be seene. My 90 
hart too tender to withstande such a diuine furie, yeelded to Loue 
— Madame I not without blushing confesse, yeelded to Loue. 

Cynth, A strange effect of loue, to worke such an extreame hate. 
How say you Endimion^ all this was for loue ? 

End. I say. Madam, then the Gods sende mee a womans hate. 93 

Cynih, That were as bad, for then by contrarie you shoulde neuer 
sleepe. But on Tei/us, let vs heare the ende. 

Tellus. Feeling a continuall burning in all my bowels, and aburst- 
ing almost in euerie vaine, I could not smoother the inwarde fyre, 
but it must needes bee perceiued by the outwarde smoke ; and by 100 
the flying abroade of diuers sparkes, diuers iudged of my scalding 
flames. Endimion as full of arte as witte, marking mine eyes, (in 
which hee might see almost his owne,) my sighes, by which he might 
euer heare his name sounded, aymed at my hart, in which he was 
assured his person was imprinted ; and by questions wrunge out that, 105 
which was readie to burst out. When he sawe the depth of my 
affections, he sware, that mine in respect of his were as fumes to 
Aetna, vallies to Ali)es, Ants to Eagles, and nothing could be com- 
pared to my beautie but his loue, and etemitie. Thus drawing 
a smooth shoe vppon a crooked foote, hee made mee beleeue^ that no 
(which all of our sexe willinglie acknowledge) I was beautifull. And 
to wonder (which indeede is a thing miraculous) that; any of his sexe 
should be faithfull. 

Cynth, Endimion^ how will you cleere your selfe ? 

End, Madam, by mine owne accuser. 115 

Cynth, Well, Tellus^ proceede, but breefiie ; least taking delight in 
vttering thy loue, thou offende vs with the length of it. 

Tellus, I will, Madame, quickly make an ende of my loue & my 

88 bruseth Bl, F, : bruiseth Dil, Bak, 90 wounde ... be teene] en 

Mr, P, A, DanieVs suggestion I transpose skarre . . . seene . . . wounde . . . felt of 
all previous eds, 91-2 Loue. Madame. ... to Loue. Q Bl, /*., F, placing am 

additional comma at I : love, madam ; I, not without blushing, confess, yielded to 
love. Dil, : love. Madam, I, not without blushing, confess 1 yielded to love, 
Bak, 104 euer] even Dil, he om, F, 


tale. Finding continuall increase of my tormenting thoughts, and 
1 30 that the enioying of my loue made deeper woundes then the entering 
into it, I could finde no meanes to ease my griefe but to foUowe 6 
JSndimion, and continually to haue him in the obiect of mine eyes, 
who had me slaue and subject to his loue. 

But in the moment that I feared his falsehoode, and fryed my 

125 selfe most in myne affections, I founde, (ah griefe ! euen then I lost 

my selfe !) I founde him in most melancholic and desperate termes, 

cursing hys starres, his state, the earth, the heauens, the world, and 

all for the loue of — 

Cynth. Of whom ? Tellus speake boldly. 
130 Tellus. Madame, I dare not vtter for feare to offende. 

Cynth. Speake, I say ; who dare take offence, if thou be com- 
maunded by Cynthia f 

Tellus. For the loue of Cynthia. 

Cynth. For my loue Tellus^ that were strange. Endimion^ is it 
ni true? 

End. In all things, Madame, Tellus doth not speak false. 
Cynth. What will this breede to in the ende ? Well Endimiony 
wee shall heare all. 

Tellus. I seeing my hopes turnde to mishaps, and a setled dis- 
140 sembling towards me, and an vnmooueable desire to Cynthia, for- 
getting both my selfe and my sexe, fell vnto this vnnaturall hate ; 
for knowing your vertues, Cynthia, to be immortall, I coulde not 
haue an imagination to withdraw him. And finding mine owne 
affections vnquenchable, I coulde not carrie the minde that any els 
M5 should possesse what I had pursued. For though in maiestie, 
beautie, vertue, and dignitie, I alwaies humbled and yeelded my 
selfe to Cynthia, yet in affections, I esteemed my selfe equall with 
the Goddesses ; & all other creatiures, according to theyr states, with 
my selfe. For stars to theyr bignes haue theyr lights, and the sunne 
Tf o hath no more. And little pytchers when they can holde no more, ^ 
are as full as great vessels that runne ouer. Thus Madam, in all 
trueth, haue I vttered the vnhappinesse of my loue, and the cause of 
my hate ; yeelding wholy to that diuine iudgement which neuer erred 
for want of wisedom, or enuied for too much partiality. 
is^s, Cynth. How say you, my Lords, to this matter? But what say 
you, Endimion, hath Tellus tolde troth ? 

139 Of whom, Tcllns? Dil. 136 Madame, Tellus so punctuated Dil, Bak.i 
Madame. Tellus Q BU F. 141 into DiL Bak. 

76 ENDIMION [act v 

End, Madame in all things, but in that shee saide I loued her, 
and swore to honour her. 

Cynth, Was there such a time when as for my loue thou didst 
vowe thy selfe to death, and in respect of it loth'd thy life? speake 160 
Endimion^ I will not reuenge it with hate. 

End. The time was Madam, and is, and euer shall be, that I 
honoured your highnesse aboue all the world ; but to stretch it so 
far as to call it loue, I neuer durst. There hath none pleased mine 
eye but Cynthiay none delighted mine eares but Cynthia^ none pos* 165 
sessed my hart but Cynthia. I haue forsaken all other fortunes to 
foUowe Cynthitty and heere I stande ready to die if it please C^ntkia, 
Such a difference hath the Gods sette between our states, that all 
must be dutie, loyaltie, and reuerence ; nothing (without it vouchsafe 
your highnes) be termed loue. My vnspotted thoughts, my languish- 170 
ing bodie, my discontented life^ let them obtaine by princelie fauour 
that, which to challenge they must not presume, onelie wishing of 
impossibilities : with imagination of which, I will spende my spirits, 
and to my selfe that no creature may heare, softlie call it loue. And 
if any vrge to vtter what I whisper, then will I name it honor. From 175 
this sweet conteplation if I be not driuen, I shall Hue of al men the 
most content, taking more pleasure in mine aged thoughts, then euer 
I did in my youthful actions. 

Cynth, Endimion, this honorable respect of thine, shalbe christned 
loue in thee, & my reward for it fauor. Perseuer Endimion in 180 
louing me, & I account more strength in a true hart, then in a 
walled Cittie. I haue laboured to win all, and studie to keepe such 
as I haue wonne ; but those that neither my fauour can mooue to 
continue constant, nor my offered benefits gette to bee fJEUthfuU, the 
Gods shal eyther reduce to trueth, or reuenge their trecheries with 185 
iustice. Endimion continue as thou hast begun, and thou afari t finde 
that Cynthia shyneth not on thee in vaine. 

{At this point Endimion finds means to part with his white beard 
and other signs of age. ) 

End. Your Highnesse hath blessed mee, and your wordes haue 
againe restored my youth : mee thinkes I feele my ioyntes stronge, 
and these mouldy haires to molt, & all by your vertue Cynthia^ into i^ 
whose hands the Ballance that weigheth time & fortune are 

fr«)llilM ir.c 

159 as om. Dil. 169-70 (without Your Highness TOQchsafe it) Bak. s. D. 
Lt this pomt &c] fW^i^tf 0i» ■'- * /^--it-* -._i-.-l „ 

Kxsoailfrf. Mid, i. i, 50, 9a. 

[At ihvi yomt SlcT^ imerted on suggestum of Bilkers note 191 wcjgfateth F. 




Cynth. What younge againe? then it is pittie to punish Tellus. 
Tellus, Ah Endimion^ now I know thee and aske pardon of thee : 
suffer mee still to wish thee well. 
195 End. Tellus^ Cynthia must commaund what she will. 

Fhsc, Endimian, I reioyce to see thee in thy former estate. 
End, Good JFToscuia^ to thee also am I in my former affections. 
Eum. Endimian^ the comfort of my life, howe am I rauished with 
a ioy matchlesse, sauing onelie the enioying of my mistrisse. 
aoo Cynth. Endt'mion^ you must nowe tell who Eumenides shrineth 
for bis Saint. 
End. Semeky Madame. 

Cynth. SemeUy Eumenides f is it ScmeU t the very waspe of all 
women, whose tongue stingeth as much as an Adders tooth ? 
ao5 Eum. It is Seme/e, Cynthia : the possessing of whose loue^ must 
onelie prolong my life. 

Cynth. Nay sith Endimion is restored, wee will haue all parties 
pleased. Semele^ are you content after so long triall of his faith, such 
rare secresie, such vnspotted loue, to take Eumenides t Why speake 
a 10 you not ? Not a word ? 

End. Silence, Madame, consents : that is most true. 
Cynth. It is true Endimion. Eumenides, take Semele. Take her 
I say. 

Eum. Humble thanks, Madame : now onely doe I begin to liue. 
a 15 Sem. A harde choyce, Madame, either to be married if I say 
nothing, or to lose my tongue if I speake a word. Yet doe I rather 
choose to haue my tongue cut out, then my heart distempered : 
I will not haue him. 

Cynth. Speakes the Parrat ? shee shall nod heereafter with signes : 
•ao cut off her tongue, nay, her heade, that hauing a seruant of honour- 
able birth, honest manners, and true loue, will not be perswaded. 

Sem. He is no faithfuU Louer, Madame, for then would he haue 
asked his Mistris. 

Ger. Had he not beene faithfull, he had neuer scene into the 
>>5 fountaine, and so lost his friend and Mistrisse. 

Eum. Thine own thoughts, sweet Semele^ witnesse against thy 
wordes, for what hast thou founde in my life but loue ? and as yet, 
what haue I founde in my loue but bittemesse ? Madame, pardon 
Semeie^ and let my tongue ransome hers. 

203 Semele, Eumenides ?] Semele ? Eumenides DU. 

78 ENDIMION [act v 

Cynth, Thy tongue, Eutnenides ? what ! shouldst thou liue wanting 330 
a tongue to blaze the beautie of Semeie f Well Seme/e, I will not 
commaund loue, for it cannot bee enforced : let me entreat it 

Sem. I am content your Highnesse shall command, for now only 
do I thinke Eumenides faithful!, that is willing to lose his tongue for 
my sake : yet loth^ because it should doe me better seruice. 235 
Madame, I accept of Eumenides, 

Cynth. I thanke you, Semeie, 

Eum, Ah, happie Eumenides^ that hast a friend so faithfully and 
a mistris so faire : with what sodaine mischiefe wil the Gods daunt 
this excesse of ioye ? Sweet Semeie^ I liue or dye as thou wilt 3 40 

Cynth, What shall become of Tellus ? Te/Zus, you know Endimion 
is vowed to a seruice, from which death cannot remooue him. Ccr- 
sites casteth still a louely looke towards you : how say you, will you 
haue your Corsites^ and so receiue pardon for all that is past ? 

Tellus, Madame, most willingly. 345 

Cynth, But I cannot tel whether Corsites be agreed. 

Cors, I, Madame! more happie to enioy Tellus then the 
Monarchie of the world. 

Eum, Why she caused you to be pincht with Fairies. 

Cors, I^ but her fairenesse hath pinched my hart more deepelie. 350 

Cynth, Well, enioy thy loue. But what haue you wrought in the 
Castle, Tellus f 

Tellus, Onely the picture of Endimion, 

Cynth, Then so much of Endimion as his picture commeth to, 
possesse and play withall. 255 

Cors, Ah my sweete Tellus, my loue shal be as thy beautie is, 

Cynth, Now it resteth, Dipsas, that if thou wilt forsweare that vile 
Arte of Enchaunting, Geron hath promised againe to receiue thee ; 
otherwise, if thou be wedded to that wickednes, I must and will see 360 
it punished to the vttermost 

Dipsas, Madam, I renounce both substance and shadow of that 
most horrible and hatefull trade; vowing to the Gods continuall 
penaunce, and to your highnes obedience. 

Cynth, Howe say you, Geron, will you admit her to your Wife? 265 

Ger. I, with more ioy then I did the first day : for nothing could 

330 what !] no stop in oldeds, 338 and om, Dil, 340 this] thdr Dil, 

343 looke] lookes Q you : . . . you, will] you, . . . you ? Will Bl, /. Q^s 0mfy 
stop is comma at first you yon' om. Q 

sc 111] ENDIMION 79 

happen to make me happy^ but onely her forsaking that leude and 
detestable course. Dipsas, I imbrace thee. 

Dipsas, And I thee, Geron^ to whom I will heereafter recite the 
170 cause of these my first follies. 

Cynth. Well, Endimion^ nothing resteth nowe but that we 
depart Thou hast my fauour, Tellus her friend, Eutntnides in 
Paradice with his Semele^ Geron contented with Dipsas, 

Top. Nay soft, I cannot handsomly goe to bed without Bagoa, 
275 Cynth, Well Syr Tophas^ it may bee there are more vertues in 
mee then my selfe knoweth of; for Endimion I awaked, and at my 
words he waxed young; I will trie whether I can turne this tree 
againe to thy true loue. 

Top. Tume her to a true loue or false, so shee be a wench I care 
380 not 

Cynth. Bagocy Cynthia putteth an end to thy harde fortunes ; for 
being tumd to a tree for reuealing a truth, I will recouer thee againe, 
if in my power be the effect of truth. 

(Bagoa recovers human shape,) 

Top, Bagoa ? a bots vpon thee ! 
285 Cynth. Come my Lordes let vs in. You, Gyptes and Pythagoras^ 
if you can content your selues in our Court, to fall from vaine follies 
of Phylosophers to such vertues as are here practised, you shall be 
entertained according to your deserts ; for Cynthia is no stepmother 
to strangers. 
290 JPythag, I had rather in Cynthias Court spende tenne yeeres, then 
in Greece one houre. 

Gyptes, And I chuse rather to liue by the sight of Cynthia^ then 
by the possessing of all Egipt. 
Cynth. Then follow. 
395 Eum. We all attend. Exeunt, 


376 I awaked Endimion Bi, mods, s. D. [Bagoa &c.] Bak, sullied 

[Bagoa becomes herself again] 386 can] cannot all previous eds. 

^ The Epilogue. 

A Man walking abroade, the wind and Sunne stroue for soue- 
raignty, the one with his blast, the other with his beames. 
The wind blew hard, the man wrapped his garmfit about him harder : 
it blustred more strongly, he then girt it fast to him : I cannot pre- 
uaile, sayd the wind. The Sunne casting her Christall beames, began 5 
to warme the man : he vnlosed his gowne. Yet it shined brighter : 
he then put it off. I yeelde, sayd the winde, for if thou continue 
shining, he will also put off his cote. 

Dread Soueraigne, the malicious that seeke to ouerthrowe vs with 
threats, do but stiffen our thoughts^ and make them sturdier in 10 
stormcs : but if your Highnes vouchsafe with your fauorable beames 
to glaunce vpon vs, we shall not onlie stoope, but with all bumilitie, 
lay both our handes and heartes at your Maiesties feete. 


Nearly sixty years ago the Rev. N. J. Halpin laid before the world of 
Shakespearean scholars a most ingenious essay, in the course of which 
Lyl/s play of Endimion was interpreted for the first time as an elaborate 
transcript of certain events in contemporary Court history, centreing 
round the passion entertained by Queen Elizabeth for Robert Dudley, 
Earl of Leicester \ Mr. Haipin*s theory, advanced with much modesty 
and supported by a dose reference to historical documents, has won 
a wide though not a universal acceptance. Attention has recently been 
called to special defects in it, and an attempt made, which I cannot 
regard as successful, to amend it in some particulars'. A closer con- 
sideration of the essay reveals, indeed, inconsistencies so glaring between 
the conduct and situation of the characters in the play and those of the 
people with whom it is sought to identify them, as make it impossible to 
accept Halpin's view as more than partially and approximately correct ; 
the Dact being that his desire to find support in Endimion for bis inter- 
pretation of Oberon's speech has largely disqualified him as the interpreter 
of the former. In the- following pages I shall endeavour to pomi out the 
inconsistencies alluded to, and to suggest a general emendation of the 
theory. Some of my objections were anticipated, though but inadequately 
met, by Mr. Halpin himself : and if I am obliged to reject the majority 
of his identifications, and to alter considerably the general scope of the 
play, it must always be remembered that to his clever initiative belongs 
the credit of first opening this line of inquiry and of pointing us to 
authorities by whom it might be verified or corrected. 

In the first place it is necessary to observe that the allegory in Endimion 
is twofold. The classical myth afforded Lyly the bare suggestion of 
Endymion's slumber and the kiss of Cynthia ; but it is obvious that these 
were insufficient materials for a play. He has, therefore, woven round 
this beautiful picture a drama of Court life, which has no place nor 
counterpart at all in the classical myth ; and has, further, combined with 
this a physical allegory, accepted even by those who refuse to recognize 
the political one— an allegory, namely, under the names of Tellus and 

* Oherons Vision in the Midsummer s Nighfs Dream. Illustrated by a com- 
parison with Ly lie's Endymion, By the Rev, N.J, Halpin . . . London, 1843. 8® 
(^Shakespeare Society), 

* Endymion , , . edited by George P. Baker ^ New York, 1894. The allegory is 
dealt with in Mr. Baker's full biographical Introduction, pp. sdi-lxxiv. 

BOKD in O 






Cynthia, of the Earth and the Moon as heavenly bodies. This latter^ 
a link between Lyl/s work and the still-surviving Moral- PlaySi and an 
idea which finds other development in the treatment o£ thr Sf y^n gjatae ts 
j]X_The^ fppman in The Moone\ may be briefly illustrated and dismissed. 
It appears most prominently in the first Act, where Lyly is breaking his 
ground, and the desire of Endimion to mislead Eumenides as to the real 
object of his passion harmonizes with some timidity on the author's part 
in introducing his real subject. Endimion*s defence of. Cynthia from the 
charge of inconstancy on account of her waxing and waning (pp. 22-3), is 
followed in the second scene (11. 19-26) by the following protest of Tellus — 

'Is not my beauty diuine, whose body is decked with faire flowers, 
and vaines are Vines, yeelding sweet liquor to the dullest spirits, whose 
eares are Come, to bring strength, and whose heares are grasse, to bring 
abundance? Doth not Frankinsence and Myrrhe breath out of my 
nostrils, and all the sacrifice of the Gods breede in my bowels ? Infinite 
are my creatures, without which neyther thou, nor Endimion^ nor any 
could loue, or Hue.' 

To which Floscula, one of the 'faire flowers ' who perhaps help to ' deck ' 
Tellus, rejoins 

' Your grapes woulde be but drie huskes, your Come but chaflfe, and 
all your vertues vaine, were it not Cynthia that presemeth the one in the 
bud, and nourisheth the other in the blade, and by her influence both 
comforteth all things, and by her authoritie commaundeth all creatures.' 

But, attention once won for Cynthia and Tellus as women, their planetary 
signi ficance emerges only occasionally, with fainter and rarer recurrence, 
to the end of the piece: e.g. p. 31 'thy fish Cynthia in the floode 
Araris, which at thy waxing is as white as the driuen snowe, and at thy 
wayning, as blacke as deepest darknes ' ; p. 33 ' Sufler me therefore to 
gaze on the Moone, at whom, were it not for thyselfe, I would die with 
wondering ' ; p. 38 ' On yonder banke neuer grewe any thing but Lunary, 
and hereafter I will neuer haue any bed but that banke' ; ib. 1. 26( Dipsas 
charming End.) 'thou mightest haue conmianded Tellus, whoniejiowe 
in stead of a Mistris, thou shalt finde a tombe'; and lower,. L 38, she 
is obliged to gratify Tellus, * for from her gather wee all our simptes to 
maintaine our sorceries'; iii. i. 28 'your highnes, on whosehandes die 
compasse of the earth is at cofifiaund, though not in possession'; p. 51 
the inscription on the pillar; iv. i. 66 'Cynthia beginneth to rise'; 
v. 3. 24 ' Thou hast threatned to tume my course awry ' &c ; lETl. 75 
(Tellus to Cynthia) 'were it possible that in so heauenlie thoughts as 
yours there coulde fall such earthly motions as mine' ^c^^nd ib. 1, 145 
'though in maiestie, beautie, vertue, and dignitie, I alwaies humbled and 
yeelded my selfe to Cynthia, yet in affections I esteemed my selfe equaU 

* Steinluiiifer,^iif Lyfy als Dramatiker, p. 19. 


^th the Goddesses; & all other creatures, according to theyr stdtes, 
with my selfe. For stars to theyr bignes haue theyr lights, and the sunne 
hath no more' ; ib. 1. 185 'Endimion, continue as thou hast begun, and 
thou shalt finde that Cynthia shyneth not on thee in vaine/ 

The existence of a Court allegory has, we have said, not been universally The Court 
allowed; chiefly, perhaps, because the story told about Cynthia and her allegory — 
courtiers may quite well be regarded by itself as a pretty imaginative fof^^h! 
effort, perfectly intelligible without any reference to actual facts. It is so 
regarded by, among others, Professor Morle^ who says k propos of the 
Court allegory suggested — 'This wky of hobbling Pegasus with logs of 

prose has friends enough. I am not 
and in many another play, a surface 

of their company. . . • There is here, 
reference to Queen Elizabeth, which 

comes of readily identifying the ciueen's grace and wisdom with the 
wisdom from above. But throughout there is also set forth clearly an 
impersonal allegory that touches the relation of the mind of man to Earth 
and Heaven \* Imitating Professor Morle/s liberality we may cheerfully 
admit that there is here a surface reference to these serener matters, 
especially perceptible to those who readily identify the Queen's grace and 
wisdom with the wisdom from above ; and suggestion of such impersonal 
allegory is prominent in the first two scenes, in the contrast between the 
'sweet nette,' the ' allurements of pleasure,' in which Tellus (i. 2. 41 sqq.) 
tries to entangle the hero, and the vague aspirations he acknowledges 
towards a beauty far above him. It also appears in the pinching of Tellus' 
lover, Corsites, by fairies ; the punishment allotted in folklore to sensual 
affection. But it is my decided belief that such a mystical interpretation 
of the main purport of the play, though quite in harmony with the spirit 
of Spenser's non-dramatic work a few years later, and not out of harmony 
even with the temper of the earlier Moralities, is considerably removed 
from tEiTtemper at which the contemporary 3rama in the natural course 
of its development had arrived, and is quite foreign to the spirit which 
dominates the other writings of John Lyly. It is abundantly clear that 
Lyly had thoroughly learned the lesson of realism taught by the progress 
of the drama up to his time. The sure process of evolution, the gradual 
SiiHng of the stock of dramatic pieces in the competition for popular 
favour, was steadily eliminating abstract allegory such as Professor 
Morley here imagines. Lyly's allegory is, I believe, almost invariably 
a personal allegory, a representation, more or less veiled, modified, and 
partial, of contemporary men and women ; and even if Nature, with her 
handmaids Concord and Discord, in The Woman in ike Moone^ constitute 
a momentary exception, yet the Seven Planets in that play are not so 
much representations of abstract virtues and vices, as Steinhauser 
asserts*, as of definite personalities in classical mythology with which 
Lyly chose to combine the mediaeval notions of astrological influence. 

* English Writers^ ix. 204, ao8. ^ John Lyly als Dramatiker^ P* *S>- 

G 2 


Lyiy had, in ilEict, grasped the neoessity of presenting the concrete : and if 
he IS unwilling wholly to discard the allegory out of which the drania of 
bis day had grown, and which still possessed a certain hold^ e specia lly 
on educated minds, yet he brings it into line with the advance of dramatic 
usage and adroitly makes it the engine of a yet closer realism. And it by 
no means follows, because the Court allegory can be easDy detached and 
leave the play still interesting and complete, that no such allegory was 
intended. It is equally possible, and more probable, that the author had 
grasped the notion that— while allegory of any kind is hardly a fit metier 
for the drama, which moves and has its being in action and leaves tlie 
spectator little time for pondering recondite meanings, and no opportunity 
of turning back to verify a new suggestion by reference to an earlier 
scene — yet, if it be admitted on the stage at all, that all^ory will be the 
best which lies in the play juxtaposed rather than inextricably intertwined, 
parallel yet apart, perceptible to the reader and to the acuter spectator, 
Ibut not essential to the intelligence and enjoyment of the piece^ The 
perception of this principle by writers for the stage had no doubt been 
quickened by the royal proclamation of May i6, 1559, declaring Vthat no 
dramatic production should be licensed, which touched matters of religion 
or governance of the estate of the commonweal ^' If such matter, then, 
were to be handled at all, the play must at least seem innocent of the 
intention ; which it could hardly seem if the underlying matter or meaning 
were necessary to its comprehension, if it had no proper vitality apart 
from such. And so we need not conclude that there is no allegory, merely 
because the piece can stand without it. While the author would recognize 
it as his business to make his play independent of such aid, he was 
perfectly conscious how much its interest would be enhanced by this 
addition to its significance. And in Endimion at any rate, the idea of 
the presence of something more than meets the eye is quite irresistible. 
One asks, if the presentation and embroidery of the classical myth were 
the sole intention, what could have induced the author to drag so lovely 
a glimpse of ideality down to the vulgar level of Court intrigue ? Whereas, 
if the presentation of the latter is the main intention, the introduction 
of the myth idealizes and purifies it. And would a free imagination have 
gone out of its way to construct the absolutely unessential Corsites, with 
his futile effort, his pinchings and slumberings, effecting nothing, leading 
to nothing, but readily intelligible if introduced as part of a dramatized 
series of real events, which so often bear this incoherent and purposeless 
character ? The same question may be asked in regard to the ineffectual 
Floscula, The language, too, used by Endimion under Cynthia's dis« 

' Collier's Hist, of Dram. Poetry, i. 1 74. The earliest Act of Parliament for 
the control and regulation of the stage, on which later statntes and proclamations 
like that of 1559 were based, was that of 1543, 34 and 35 Henry VIII, c. i. 
(Id. i. la;.) 


pleasure is £ar more appropriate to the Earl of Leicester, suddenly 
deprived of a favour long enjoyed, than to the shepherd of Latmos^: 
Cynthia's bearing towards Semele and Tellus admirably reflects the 
dopaineering temper of Henry VII Fs daughter: and the dream of 
£ndimion,~diescribed in the fiflh Act (pp. 66-7), would be altogether 
pcnntlessjuidLimpertinent unles% addressed avec intention to an actual 
Cynthia seated as spectator of the piece. Admit the dream as all^orical, 
and the rest must become wholly or partly so : moreover, the words in the 
Prologue about ' applying pastimes ' are obviously the excuse which is its 
own accuser, an attitude exchanged in the Epilogue for one of frank 
acknowledgement and deprecation of a possible displeasure on the Queen's 
part * Besides all this, we have already seen reason to suspect allegorical 
intention in Sapho and Phaoy and at least a personification of Elizabeth 
in Gallathea and Loves Metamorphosis (supposing the latter to precede 
Endimion) : it would be natural now to find him launching out on a more 
elaborate effort in the same direction, one that might serve at once as his 
acknowledgement for his recent appointment as Court dramatist, and as 
the best vindication of his claims to it. 

fiut gp-anting, as we must, the presence of a Court allegory, there are Limita- 
one or two things to be premised concerning it, one or two limitations ^^^^ ^® ^^^ 
to the precision we might expect to find. In the first place, Lyly's own ^^ ^|^^ 
opportunities for ascertaining the facts, if they equalled, would not exactly allegory, 
tally with those of the ingenious critic of to-day, with the stores of 
information from the most private sources which the research and editing 
of the nineteenth century have placed at his disposal. Lyly was simply 
a clever young man in a subordinate position about the Court, whose 
wit, address, and literary achievement would make him a natural reci- 
pient for such fact»-or gossip as were current, and whose special con- 
nexion with Oxford or Burleigh, or perhaps Leicester himself, would 

^ There is a noticeable resemblance between the soliloquy Act ii. sc i, p. 31 
and the language of a letter written by Leicester to Burleigh, about the Queen*i 
displeasnre, under date Nov. 12, 1579 — a coincidence probably, though it is by no 
means impossible that Lyly, in his capacity as secretary to Burleigh*s son-in-law 
Oxford, had actually read, or heard read, this letter, and in any case it only 
repeated the complaints with which Leicester had alreadv filled the Court. It is 
quoted by Mr. Baker {Endymian^ p. xlvii) from Wright s Queen EHzcibeth and 
Her Times, ii. 103. £. g. Endim. * Haue I not crept to those on whom I might 
haue troden, onelie because thou didst shine vpon them ? Haue not iniuries beene 
sweet to mee, if thou vouchsafedst I should beare them ? Haue I not spent my 
golden yeeres in hopes, waxing old with wishing, yet wishing nothing but thy 
loue ? * — Leic, ' 1 must confess it greveth me not a lyttle, having so faythfuUy, 
carefully, and chargeably served her Majesty this twenty yeres, as 1 have done . . • 
I wyll be found faythfull and just to her Majesty, no wrongs, dishonors, or other 
indygnitet offered me, shall alter my dewtyfull affection towards her ... So may 
I say, I have lost both youth, liberty, and all my fortune reposed in her; and, my 
Lord, by that tyme I have made an even reckoning with the world, your Lordship 
wyll not give me much for the remainder of my twenty yeres* service,* &c. 

* Baker's Endymum, pp. xlii, xliii. 


afford him some special opportunities. In the second place, his zUegotf 
ivas conditioned by the form in which it was presented. The events of 
real life are rarely either so symmetrical or so ideal in their character as 
to be capable of presentation by art without selection or change of some 
sort ; and the necessities of the stage may have compelled Lyly to £dsify 
even the limited knowledge that he possessed Another motive for such 
falsification would lie in the danger of being too direct : while indicating 
clearly his general intent, he must leave himself, and his originals, loop- 
holes of escape from too close an identification. And, fourthly, seeing 
that the matters dealt with extended over a lai^ge portion of the reign, he 
could hardly treat them dramatically without some compression and 
recombination ; so that while certain features of his story seem to point 
to one date, certain others are perhaps rather indicative of another, 
and the whole work cannot safely be reg^ded as other than a loose 
rendering of general facts with more detailed reference here and there. 
Dramatic necessity or the State censorship may compel him to alter 
times and places, to marry people who were not really married, or not to 
those whom they are represented as marrying, and even to combine in 
one character features of two persons holding successively the same 

Nevertheless, if the claim of any particular interpretation is to be sup- 
ported at all, there must be a general correspondence shown between 
the main facts of the drama and the main facts of the history, a general 
consonance between the characters and situations of the personages with 
those of their models. My complaint against many of Mr. Halpin's 
identifications is that they fail to satisfy this essential of a general 
Halpin*s correspondence. He divides the identified characters according to three 
inteqpreta- degrees of probability ; while for the nine minor parts not here enumerated 
^^°' he suggests no originals, though he considers that there probably were 

such for Pythagoras and Gyptes. None of these nine minor characters, 
however, at all affect the plot, and so may safely be ignored without 
damage to the general theory upheld about the rest. His cast is as 
follows : 

Highly Probable^ 

Endymion (m love with Cynthia,and \ Leicester 
beloved by Tellus and Floscula) j 

Cynthia Queen Elizabeth. 

Tellus (in love with Endymion*s\ Lady Douglas Howard, Countess of 

* person ') I Sheffield. 

r iv. 3. p. 60. 
Floscula (in love with Endymion*s I Lady Lettice Knollys, Countess of 

* virtues *) i Essex. 

Corsites (married to Tellus) . . Sir Edward Stafford. 
Eumenides (in love with Semele) . the Earl of Sussex. 



Semde Lady Frances Sidney. 

Dipsas (an old mischief-making) ., ^ . rr.i_ 
„ V ** h the Countess of Shrewsbury, 

crone; J * 

Geron (her husband) • • .the Earl of Shrewsbury. 

Not Improbable, 

e- n* ^u / J *• < M'-L • .f\l Stephen Gosson, author of *The 

St Tophas (a pedantic 'mditamf)) gchoole of Abuse.' 

In Halpin's view the subject of the play is the general relations of 
Elizabeth with her favourite Leicester, and particularly that temporary 
disgrace of Leicester brought about by the revelation by M. Simier, 
envoy of the Duke of Anjou, in late July or August, 1579, of Leicester's 
marriage with Essex's widow in the previous year ; a revelation which 
led Leicester's previous (his second) wife, Lady Sheffield (Tellus), to claim 
her own marital rights in him, and caused Eli2abeth to order him to 
confine himself to the palace at Greenwich (the lunary-bank), and even 
to think of committing him to the Tower (the 'darke Caue' of iv. 3. 
Ill) ; a course from which she was, however, dissuaded by the generous 
remonstrance of Leicester's great enemy, the Earl of Sussex (Eumenides) : 
while Corsites, Tellus' gaoler, whom she finally marries, represents Sir 
Edward Stafford, on whom Leicester finally persuaded Lady Sheffield to 
bestow her hand ^. 

Against this view of Halpin, Mr. Baker has urged (i) that it errs in Baker's 
attempting to identify too many of the characters. There is no necessity changes, 
to suppose that every character in the piece had a definite original 
(p. xliv) ; (2) that it confuses Leicester's two marriages, that with Lady 
Sheffield in 1573, and that with Lettice Countess of Essex in 1578. If 
Leicester's imprisonment in 1579 was caused by the revelation of his 
marriage to Lady Essex, surely she, and not Lady Sheffield, is the proper 
original for Tellus, Cynthia's rival (p. xlix). Accordingly Mr. Baker sub-> 
stitutes Lettice as Tellus for Lady Sheffield, regarding Endimion's state* 
ment that Tellus has been but a cloak for his affection for Cynthia ', as 
Leicester's palliating version to the Queen of his recent marriage (p. 1), 
and Tellus* 'allurements of pleasure' and employment of Dipsas as 
Leicester's way of saying that he was ' bewitched by Lettice's charms ' 
(p. Hi) ; while Elizabeth's subsequent displeasure with Leicester's new 
wife, who was for years forbidden to appear at Court, is represented by 
Tellus* exile to the castle in the desert (p. Ivi). Further, Mr. Baker 
regards Endimion's treatment by Dipsas as a loose rendering of Simier's 

* Camden's Annals of Elizabeth, 1579 {Hisi, of England, 3 vols. fol. 1706, 
ii. p. 471). 

^ Act ii. sc. I. 22-5. 


information to the Queen (p. liv), his sleep on the lunary-bank O'lke 
Halpin) as meaning generally the royal disfavour, and, specifically, 
Leicester's confinement (p. Iv), and Cynthia's concern for Endimion's 
fate as the allegorical way of expressing the paroxysm of anger with 
which Elizabeth received Simier's news, ' though naturally, in the alle* 
gory, gratitude for faithful service, not jealousy, is the cause of the 
concern ' (p. Ivi) '. Lastly, he accepts . Halpin's highly improbable 
identification of Sussex with Eumenides (p. Ivii), and notes (p. Ixviii) 
that the references to Corsites* strength seem to point to some well-known 
figure ; but for the rest of the characters, for Geron, Dipsas, Bagoa, 
Floscula, Semele, and Sir Tophas, he attempts no identification at alL 

While Mr. Baker's stricture on Halpin's confusion of the incidents of 
the two marriages is a fairly just one ', the reader will scarcely feel that 
the interpretation he substitutes is either very different or at all more 
plausible; and Professor Ward's easy acceptance of it fills one with 
surprise \ Mr. Baker's theory is bound up with a belief in a connexion 
between Leicester and Lyly, and a date for the play, as early as 15799 
between the issue of the First and Second Parts of Eupkues ; an opinion 
for which we cannot find that he has any but the most illusory grounds, 
though he supports it with considerable ingenuity and a wide research. 
The question of date has already been discussed in the Prolegomena to 
the play. It depends largely, of course, on the view taken of the all^;ory. 
Confining ourselves here to the latter, we would point out that the 
numerous inconsistencies into which Mr. Halpin has fallen are probably 
due to too narrow a view taken at the outset of the general subject of 
the play, a view imposed on him no doubt by the special theory of 
Oberon's speech which he was advocating. In interpreting the allegory 
of Endimion it is surely best to proceed inductively. To attach ourselves 
at an early stage to a particular theory and to deduce our identifications 
from that, is far less safe a method than that of keeping the question 
of subject open till the task of identification is far advanced. And in 
the latter we should form no hasty conclusion from a single point of 
resemblance, but, keeping carefully before us all the conditions of a part« 
should cast about for that historical personage who fulfils the most, or 

* Mr. Baker at this point refers us back to his p. xzxiv, where he quotes La 
Ferri^re's description {Les Projets de Mortage de la Reine Elisabeth^ pp. 220-1), 
' A cette r^^lation inattendne, entrant dans one de les col^res de lioone, elle se 
ronla par terre, injoriant tons ceux qui I'approch^rent, et refnsant de manger.* 
Comparing this burst of mad rage with the dignified investigation by Cynthia in 
Act lii. sc. I, we must confess that, if Mr. Baker's intexpretation is correct, Lyly 
has little to learn in the art of discreet translation of his uicts. 

' It is just only as regards the difficulty caused in selecting a single original for 
the part of Tellus. In the facts connected with Simier's revelation of 1579, as 
related by Halpin, both women were intimately concerned ; Lady Sheffield taking 
the more active part, while Lady Essex was perhaps, though passively, the more 

* English Dramatic Literature (ed. 1899), !• ch. 3, pp. 289-93. 


fulfils them best Proceeding on this method, let us defer for the present 
any statement of subject, and let us ascertain the leading facts about 
the chief characters in the play, and see how far Halpin's choice of 
representatives corresponds with these. 

To begin with, there can hardly be a doubt of the correctness of his 
identification of Endimion and Cynthia, an admission which is tanta- 
mount to an acknowledgement that he is at least partly right in supposing 
the play to be a complimentary version of the relations of Leicester 
with the Queen. A certainty almost as great attaches, in our judgement, 
to his choice of originals for Geron and Dipsas in the Earl and Countess 
of Shrewsbury, though he himself attaches to these only a secondary 
degree of probability. It is in the other parts, those of Tellus, Corsites, 
and Eumenides, that his selections, which he marks as ' highly probable,' 
seem so singularly unsatisfying ; while we cannot feel that there is very 
much to recommend his representatives for the only other three for 
which he suggests any, for Floscula, Semele, and Sir Tophas. Let us 
examine them in turn. 

Far the most important of the six, and technically at least the prot- Tellus. 
agonist of the plot \ is Tellus. The leading features about her are that 
she is the object of general admiration and courtship'; tbat she is 
placed in elaborate general opposition to Cynthia ' ; that she has been 
compelled by Endimion's desertion to abandon her hope of marrying 
him ; that she plots revenge against him, a revenge associated (in the 
dream of Endimion) with dark threatenings of Cynthia herself*; that 
she is imprisoned by Cynthia's order, but still carries on her intrigues ^ ; 
that on the discovery of her designs she is treated with great leniency, 
and finally married to her gaoler. Now not one of these features can 

' Steinh'anser'sy^Aif Lyly als Dramatiker^ P* 33 s * Wic in " Sapho," so ist aach 
in " £adimion " der Titelheld nicht der eigentliche Trager der Handlang, sondera 
Tellus, die von Endimion verschmahte Geliebte . . . Das Bewusstsein, in ihren 
heiligsten Gefiihlen gekrankt zu sein, treibt Tellus zu einer verhaDgnissvoUen 
lliat . . . Der Hohepunkt der Handlung ist damit erreicht. Die Gegenspieler 
treten in Gestalt von Cynthia und Eumenides in die Handlung ein.' 

' In ii. 3, p. 38, Endimion admits that she is ' faire,' * wise,' and ' honourable,' 
and adds, ' Was she not fortunate whome so many followed?': while in iv. i, 
p. 53, Tellus says, ' Endimion excepted, what is he that is not enamourd of my 
bemntie?' and on p. 54 she defends women's shifts to ward off lovers, 'otherwise 
we should be cumbred with importunities, oathes, sighes, letters, and all implements 
of loue.' 

' P. 34 she indignantly conopares herself with Cynthia, while Floscula gently 
urges her inferiority. P. 30 ' Endimion is he that hath my heart ; and Cynthia, 
too too faire Cynthia ... is the Ladie that hee delights in.' P. 38 Endimion 
elaborately contrasts them. P. 75 Tellus, in Cynthia's presence, again institutes 
a comparison between herself and Cynthia, though here she is more inclmed to 
admit the latter's superiority. 

* See V. I , pp. 60-7, and compare with the Dumb Show between the Second 
and Third Acts. 

* Cynthia (pp. 40-1) specially notes her spiteful and presumptuous speeches, 
and in iv. 3. 1 1 5 remarks * Howe say you, my Lordes, is not Tellus alwaies 
practising of some deceitesi' 


be claimed for either Lady Sheffield or Lady Essex : or, if Tellus^lot 
against Endimion might by straining be made to correspond to Lady 
Sheffield's claim of her marital rights, yet she was certainly not im- 
prisoned ; and if Tellus' exile to the castle might represent the dis-> 
favour shown to Lady Essex (after her marriage)^ yet the quiescent part 
played by Lettice is very ill represented by this turbulent and intriguing 
character ; and neither lady could for a moment claim to stand in the 
position of marked opposition to and competition with the Queen which 
Tellus occupies^. It is the more remarkable that Halpin, with War- 
burton's interpretation of Oberon's speech before him, did not realize 
that there is one personage, and only one, to whom the features of 
Tellus' part, as detailed above, are really applicable. That personage is 
Mary Queen of Scots. Mary's personal beauty and the romantic passions 
she inspired need no illustration. Throughout the reign, until her con- 
demnation on October 35, 1586, she figures as Elizabeth's great rival and 
opponent ; and the Queen's throne and even life were continually in 
danger from the Catholic plots of which she was the centre. With these 
machinations Tellus is connected in the play through the dream of 
Endimion'. A project of marriage between the Queen of Scots and 
Leicester actually occupied the attention of Elizabeth and her govern- 
ment during the years 1563-51 a plan entertained by Mary at first with 
reluctance, and pressed by Elizabeth with diminishing warmth as Mary's 
willingness increased'. The serious entertainment of this design, and 
the fact that it was not carried out, are quite sufficient for Lyly's purpose, 
and qualify Mary for the part of Tellus* original far better than either 
of the two ladies hitherto proposed. If Mary cannot be credited with 
any special plots against Leicester, no more can Lady Essex, and hardly. 
Lady Sheffield. Much, too, may have passed in the way of political intrigue 
of which no trace remains to-day ; and, in any case, Mary is in natural 
opposition to Leicester as a prominent member of Elizabeth's government \ 
The leniency of Tellus' treatment is abundantly reflected in that actually 
shown to Mary by Elizabeth, who, after the full discovery of Norfolk's 
conspiracy in 1572, refused to comply with the petition of Parliament 
that she should be proceeded against by Bill of Attainder, pleading that 
' she could not put to death the bird that had flown to her for succour 
from the hawk ',' and allowed her to continue in the custody of the 

^ It is farther to be remarked, as against Halpin, that there is a sbgular impro- 
priety in maldng Tellus (Lady Sheffield) confide her plots against Endimioa 
to Floscula (her rival. Lady £^x); and that Cynthia's own kindly attitude to 
Floscula, pp. 60, 63, is quite inconsistent with the jealous anger Elizabeth cherished 
against Lady Essex as late as 1586. See Froude's History of England^ xiL 170. 

^ Act V. sc I, pp. 66-7. 

' See Fronde's History^ vii. chs. 41, 43, 44 (pp. 53, 183, 185, 269, 311, 
pop. ed.). 

* See, too, what is said about the intrigue against Endimion below, pp. 98, io2. 

* Froude, x. ch. 57, pp. 83-91 (pop. ed.). Again, after Pan7*s confession in 


Catholic Earl of Shrewsbury. She was in fact looked upon at this time 
(1573 and 1574) as heir to the crown, and had, says Froude, 'all the 
enjoyments of English country life^' The comparative laxity of 
Shrewsbury's guardianship, which in 1569 had induced the Queen to 
associate the Earl of Huntingdon temporarily with him in the charge of 
her*, is in exact accord with the indulgence shown to Tellus by Corsites, 
irhose passion for his captive has also its counterpart in the slanders 
circulated at Court by Shrewsbury's Countess as to his improper intimacy 
^th Mary '. The single point that makes against Tellus as Mary is her 
final marriage with her gaoler ; but concluding marriages are a necessity 
of comedy, and can hardly be pleaded in bar of my interpretation. 
A further little sign of Tellus* rank and importance is that she is addressed 
by Floscula, p. 23, as ' Madame,' a title of respect elsewhere reserved, both 
in Endimion and Sapho^ for the Queen herself ^ 

There could scarcely be stronger evidence of error in Halpin's choice Corsites. 
of Lady Sheffield for Tellus, than that it leads him to that of Sir Edward 
Stafford for Corsites. Corsites is a soldier, whose great physical strength *, 
'tough and unsmoothed nature ^' and honest simplicity of character^, 
are variously dwelt upon. Appointed gaoler of Tellus, his passion for her 
leads him to relax her confinement ; and her blandishments induce him 
further to undertake an office vaguely hostile to Endimion, but fore- 
doomed, as she knows, to failure. He is attacked and punished by 
fairies, but united in the end to Tellus. Sir Edward Stafford satisfies no 
single one of these conditions, saving that of marriage with Tellus ^, 

Feb. 1585 of his plot to assassinate Elizabeth with the design of placing Maiy on 
the throne, a motion was made in Parliament to revive the proceedings against her 
whidb had been dropped in 1572, but was again damped by Elizabeth, who in the 
speech from the throne at the close of the session defended her indulgent policy 
(Id. xi. 544-6). This recent instance of the Queen's generosity, or hesitation, is, 
I believe, alluded to by Panelion and Zontes (v. 3, p. 7 1), who discuss the treatment 
of Tellus as though it were a parallel, and not the identical case : — ' Pan. I maruell 
what Cynthia wiu determine in this cause ? Zon, I feare, as in all causes, heare 
of it in iustice, and then iudge of it in mercy : for howe can it be that shee that is 
TQwilling to punish her deadliest foes with disgrace, will reuenge iniuries of her 
trayne with death ? ' 

* History f xi. 70. 

' Froude, viii. 433, 480, 490, &&, and article ' Hastings, Henry, 3"^ Earl of 
Huntingdon,* ^ Diet. Nat. Biog. 

* Camden*s Eliutbeth^ 1584. In a letter to Walsingham, dated Oct. 18, 158a, 
Shrewsbury writes, * Among the rest of my false accusations, your Honour knoweth 
that I have been touched with some undutiful respects touching the Queen of 
Scots, but I am very well able to prove she hath shewed herself an enemy to me, 
and to my fortune ; and that I trust will sufficiently clear me.* (Lodge's Illustra" 
tioMs, ii. 239 : see also pp. 243, 275.) 

* In view of Mary*s position in 1585, ii. 3. 15-6 cannot be urged against this, 

* Act iv. sc. 3. 13, 135. • P. 61. 'P. 54. 

■ By way of strengthening his case Halpin suggests {flherotCs Vision, p. 63) 
that Lady Sheffield may have been committed to Stafford's custody by Leicester 
previously, for better concealment of her marriage with himself, but offers no 
grounds iox such a supposition save Elizabeth's general dislike of marriages made 
■without her consent. With regard to her union with Stafford, whose second vrife 


a match probably due, as suggested above, to the necessity of pairing 
the characters of the comedy. Stafford was not a soldier but a diplomatist 
(a character in which a rugged honesty and simplicity are not as a rule 
leading constituents), who conducted the negotiations about the Anjou 
match in 1579-82, and in 1583 was appointed resident ambassador to 
France, where he remained till the end of 1590^ A far more suitable 
original for Corsites is found in the stem and rigidly honest Sir Amyas 
Paulet, a zealous Puritan and favourer of the Huguenots, who, after 
a term as governor of Jersey, occupied the post of French ambassador 
from 1576-9. His stem demeanour was displeasing to Leicester, but 
on Walsingham's suggestion he was appointed to the custody of the 
Queen of Scots, an office which he assumed on April 17, 1585, and 
executed with such close watchfulness and unswerving fidelity as won 
him due reward after Mary's death K The Queen of Scots made a vain 
endeavour to corrupt his honesty, hinting that if ever she came to the 
throne ' he might have another manner of assurance of that island than 
ever was given to an English subject " ' ; but Paulet told her plainly that 
he was not to be seduced from his allegiance. This incident, which 
affords a parallel for Tellus' deceptive promises to Corsites (iv. i. p. 54), 
is related by Froude as occurring at the commencement of Paulet*s 
appointment in 1585. Among other details of his guardianship of Mary, 
Froude relates that when she wished her apartments, which looked upon 
the castle court, changed to others conmianding a view of the open 
country, Paulet refused, from a conviction that she would use the oppor- 
tunity thus afforded to exchange signals with some of the messengers 
ever on the watch to carry communications to her friends ^ This detail 
is probably the suggestion of Tellus' remark—* I maruell Corsites giueth 
me so much libertie : all the world knowing his charge to bee so high, 
and his nature to bee most straunge ; who hath so ill intreated Ladies 
of great honour, that he hath not suffered them to /00k out of windcwes^ 
much lesse to walke abrode ' : and her further remark at the end of the 
scene, * I will in, and laugh with the other Ladies at Corsites sweating,' 
probably has reference to the mischievous enjoyment by Mary and hei: 
train of their continual efforts to elude her gaoler's vigilance '. 

she was, Halpin ihows (p. 39) that Sussex could not have pleaded on Leicester's 
behalf that ' no man was to be troubled for a lawful marriage ' (i. e. to Lettioe), 
had not Lady Sheffield previously withdrawn her claim to be I^icester's wife. On 
the authority of Dugdale he tells us that she was induced to do so at an interview 
with Leicester ' in the close arbour of the Queen's garden at Greenwich,* on con- 
sideration of receiving from Leicester ;f 700 a year ; and that she probably married 
Staff'ord about this time, i.e. autunm of 1579. 

* Diet, of Nat, Biog,, art. 'Stafford, Sir lidward.' 

* Diet, of Nat. Biog^, art. * Paulet, Sir Amyas/ 

* Froude, xi. ch. 67, p. 576. Ihe attempt was made on the suggestion of 
Mor£an, Mary's agent in Paris. 

* Ibid., p. 579. 

' Act iv. sc. J, pp. 5a, 54. The anxious attention of Parliament and the natioi^ 


Of coantf however, I have to admit that Sir Amyas' severity is an ill As Tellus* 
representative of Corsites' indulgence and amorous weakness for his S&ol^r, he 
captive. Of this inconsistency I offer the following defence. In the shrews- 
first place, if my identification of Tellus with Mary be correct, it was bnry and 
desirable for Lyly to give us ocular illustration of the fatal power of her P^^^lct. 
seductions and that universal attraction of which Tellus boasts ^ : and if 
he has to some extent falsified facts in doing so, the falsification stops with 
itself, and leaves the issue quite untouched. Tellus knows, and explicitly 
forewarns us, that Corsites' attempt on Endimion will be void of effect ; 
and, if we must acknowledge here some defect of dramatic construction, 
the episode at least serves the purpose of introducing the ballet of Fairies, 
a welcome divertissement which Lyly has employed before in Gallathea ^ 
without, however, in that case taking the necessary trouble to give them 
a proper connexion with the action. But I believe the episode may be 
shown to have its proper place in the allegory itself, if we remember the 
compression and recombination of events imposed on the historic, still 
more perhaps on the allegorical, dramatist Tellus (Mary) is the real 
centre of the plot. The extraordinary indulgence of Elizabeth's treatment 
of her, the absence of anything like undue severity or oppression in her 
confinement, this was what was filling men's minds in 1585, this is the 
point on which the Court dramatist could without flattery insist. Now 
much in Corsites that is hardly true of Sir Amyas Paulet is abundantly 
true of Mar/s former gaoler, the Earl of Shrewsbury, as I indicated 
above when dealing directly with Tellus'. Shrewsbury, her custodian 
from 1569 to August, 1584, though on the whole faithful to Elizabeth, 
seems not to have been quite unsusceptible to Mary's charms, or at least 
to her influence. In April, 1571, at the time of Norfolk's conspiracy, 
Ridolfi actually reported to Alva that Shrewsbury was privy to the plot 
to rescue Mary and place her upon the throne, and had promised to 
protect her until the Scotch army came to the rescued This was 
probably an exaggeration ; at any rate, from the time of the discovery of 
the conspiracy in October, 1571, there was no wavering in Shrewsbury's 
loyalty to Elizabeth, and his surveillance over Mary became much more 
strict ^, But by-and-by, when it was ascertained that Elizabeth would 
not, perhaps dared not, adopt those extreme measures against her which 
Parliament desired, the Queen of Scots again became a centre of influence 
and intrigue ; and Shrewsbury, who favoured the idea of her succession, 
did not wholly escape implication. It was said that he had promised 

concentrated at this time (1585) upon Mary and her schemes, wonld ensure such 
details being promptly reported and repeated at Court, and the allusions in the 
play would count as very palpable hits. The apparent dissociation of the first 
from Tellus herself is a transparent device to secure the author, like the speech of 
Zontes quoted in note 5 on p. 90 above. 

^ Act iv. sc. I, p. 52. * Act ii. sc. 3. 5. ' P. 91, and note 3* 

* Froude, x. 203 : cf. Act iv. sc. i . 36. • . * Id., x. 295-6. 


her that, on the Queen's death, he would himself place the crown upon her 
head ^ At any rate he allowed himself to be drawn by Mary and his 
Countess into a scheme by which Mary's brother-in-law, Lord Charles 
Stuart, was secretly married to Elizabeth Cavendish, Lady Shrewsbury's 
daughter by a former husband ; a marriage which, as strengthening 
Mary's family connexion in England, gave the direst offence to Elisabeth, 
causing her to commit Lady Lennox (the bridegroom's mother, and a party 
to the plot) to the Tower, and bringing down on Shrewsbury a severe 
rebuke, under which he tried to excuse himself by laying the blame upon 
his wife. Here we have an adequate original for Corsites* temporary 
and partial disloyalty to Cynthia under Tellus' promptings; and even 
some connexion with Endimion is supplied in that bad entertainment 
of Leicester at Chatsworth and Buxton, when on a sanatory visit to the 
baths, of which Elizabeth complained in a sarcastic letter to the Shrews- 
buries dated June 4, 1577 '• At a later period too, 1582-4, we get those 
distinct slanders about the intimacy between Shrewsbury and Mary which 
his Countess, who was at enmity with him from 1580 to 1586, circulated 
about the Court, and which Lyly probably intends to represent by the 
Fairies' pinches, from whose effects he may recover by the use of lunary ', 
i. e. by direct appeal to Elizabeth. It is then, as I believe, rather the 
relations between Mary and her former gaoler that Lyly has in mind in 
this amorous weakness of Corsites. In TeUus' gaoler he attempts to 
embody the general treatment of Mary in her captivity ; though in his 
native character and in certain allusions Corsites represents exclusively 
her gaoler at the time of writing. Sir Amyas Paulet. Such transference 
assists the partial mystification which has to be maintained ; and leaves 
Lyly free to represent in Geron and Dipsas the relations between 
Shrewsbury and his Countess, and the royal displeasure under which the 
former especially rested. 
Eamenides. But of all Halpin's identifications that of Sussex with Eumenides is 
probably the one that will least commend itself to the student The 
leading features of the character are that he is the chivalrous and devoted 
friend of Endimion, the chivalrous and devoted lover of Semele ; that his 
unselfish desire to aid his friend entails on him a long absence from the 
Court, and that a noble sacrifice of his love to friendship is instrumental 
in bringing about Endimion's restoration; that he offers his tongue to 
ransom Semele's, and finally obtains his mistress* hand. To represent 
all this chivalrous devotion Halpin selects Leicester's most bitter opponent, 
Sussex, on the sole ground that, in the affair of Simier's revelation, which 
he regards as the main subject of the play, Sussex with no less justice 

* Froude, xi. 71. 

' Fronde gives tbit letter as if it were the seqael or conclusion of this secret 
marriage plotted between Mary, Ladj Lennox, and the Shrewsbnries, vol. x. ch. 60, 
pp. 39?-403 (pop. ed.). 

' Act iv. sc. 3, p. 6a. 


tban generosity pleaded against too harsh a treatment of the favourite \ 
But Eumenides is obviously young, as his talk with Geron implies ; while 
Sussex, bom '1526?", died at the age of say fifty-five in 1583, an 
additional argument against him, if my date (1585) for the play be correct. 
There is one name that rises instinctively to the lips when acts that are 
lovely and noble and of good report are mentioned— one that still falls 
upon the ear like refreshing music in this hard heart-wearying age of 
brassy even as its bearer softens and shames with his mild lustre the 
coarser flames and gaudier heroics of that iron time — the name of 

'that pensive Hesper light 
O'er Chivdiys departed sun,' 

Sir Philip Sidney. Can the relations of Eumenides in the play be made 
to square with him? It would seem that he particularly suits them. 
Supposing Endimion*s slumber and estrangement from Cynthia to 
represent the disfavour of Leicester during his opposition to the Anjou 
match, we find that Leicester's policy was fully endorsed by his nephew 
Sidney, who ventured early in 1580 his well-known letter to the Queen 
against the match, and as a consequence was compelled to spend seven 
months of that year in retirement at Wilton, his return to Court coinciding 
with Leicester's restoration to favour '. Again towards the end of 1 584 
Sidney wrote a formal Defence of Leicester in answer to the attack by the 
Jesuit, Parsons, entitled Leicester's Commonweaith\ and though the 
Defence was not printed before 1746, its contents were probably well 
known at Court. At the very time when Endimion was probably produced 
(Feb. 2, 1586) Sidney is serving with his uncle in the Netherlands, 
having left England as governor of Flushing on November 16. Sidney thus 
affords a sufficiently close parallel for Eumenides' championship of his 
friend and exile from Court on that account The question of his post- 
ponement of love to friendship brings us to Semele. 

Halpin identifies her with Frances Sidney, Sir Philip's cousin ; a selection Semele. 
made, apparently, because Frances was the second wife of Sussex, whom 
he has already selected for Eumenides, though he tries to strengthen it by 
the suggestion that Semele's petulance with Endimion^ may represent 

^ Mr. Baker argues in Halpin's rapport that — ' The two men were not friends, 
but they were fellow-councillors' {Endymion^ p. Ivii); reasoning which reminds 
us of that by which he essays to prove an early coimexion between Leicester and 
Lyly, namely, that Lyly was an undergraduate of the university of which Leicester 
was Chancellor, that he was still at Oxford at the date of the Kenil worth festivities 
(I575)» a^d that Leicester was the general patron of men of wit ! (pp. xxxv, Ixxiii). 

» Did. Nat. Biog., art. ' Radcliffe, Thos., 3'* Earl of Sussex.' 

' ' In the course of the summer (1580) Leicester left his retirement and returned 
to Court. It was understood that though still not liking the French match, he 
would in future offer no opposition to the queen*s wishes; and on these terms 
he induced Philip also to make his peace with her Majesty. We find him [Sidney], 
accordingly, again in London before the autumn.' {Engiish Men of Letters — 
Sidney f by J. A. Symonds, p. 97.) 

* Act iii. 1 , p. 40, iv. 3, p. 60 and OberorCs Vision, p. 65. 


Frances' annoyance at Leicester's marriage as likely to deprive Sir Philip 
of his succession to Leicester's property. As with Tellus and Corsites, 
Halpin's interpretation here owns a needless constraint in the pairing 
of Semele and Eumenides at the end ; a match which, as in that case, 
may be regarded as merely a stage-necessity. My own suggestion for 
Semele, who is distinguished in the play by her long coldness to her 
lover, by her waspish tongue and the displeasure it brings upon her, is 
Philip's flame, Lady Penelope Devereux, the daughter of the Earl of 
Essex, who became Lady Rich in 1581, with the result, apparently, of 
increasing Philip's passion ^ I do not know whether waspishness can 
correctly be attributed to Stella : beauty and coquetry certainly can ; and 
a match between her and Philip had been arranged as far back as 1576, 
but was broken off by Philip's father. Sir Henry Sidney, after Essex's 
death at Dublin on September 21 of that year, probably because Leicester, 
the Sidneys' near relation, was darkly associated in popular suspicion with 
Essex's end'. I suggest that this probable reason for the breach of 
Philip's engagement offers us our required parallel for Eumenides' 
postponement of love to friendship ; that the length of his connexion with 
Penelope is reflected by the seven years of silent worship of which 
Eumenides speaks ' ; and that the offer of his tongue to ransom Semele's 
is an allusion to the Astropkel and Stella sonnets, or at least that such 
allusion is found in Cynthia's reply ' What ! should'st thou liue wanting 
a tongue to blaze the beauty of Semele * ? ' 

Finally, the possible severance about this time of Lyl/s relations with 
the Earl of Oxford, relations which we know to have been clouded in 
1582', may perhaps have driven him into the arms of the Leicester 
faction ; and, if this be true, he would find additional reason for a flattering 

* Sjrmonds' Sidney pp. 96, 37. 

^ But the acknowledged opposition between Leicester and Essex would con- 
stitute reason enough, without the suggestion of foul play in the latter's death. 
Halpin {^OberorCs Vision^ p. 35) tells us that the intrigue between Leicester and 
Lady Essex began in 1574, and that Essex on his return from Ireland in 1575 did 
not attempt to conceal his indignation against the favourite. He suspeiks the 
honesty of^ the verdict of natural death returned at the inquest on Essex held by 
Sir Henry Sidnev's direction as Lord Deputy of Ireland ; and refers us to Camden's 
Annals of Elizaheth^ l$7^> '^"^ Parsons* Secret Memoirs y p. 31. 

For the breaking off of Philip's engagement to Penelope see Symonds' Sidney, 
pp. 35-6. Symonds suggests an old grudge entertained by Sir Henry against 

* Act iii. sc. 4. 53-6. 'Howe hardly hath shee rewarded thee, without cause 
or colour of despight I Howe secrete hast thou beene these seauen yeeres, that 
hast not, nor once darest not to name her, for discontenting her. Howe iaythfull ! 
that hast offered to die for her, to please her.' 

* Act V. sc. 3. 230. * Astrothel and Stella had circulated among its author's 
private friends for at least four years when Zutphen [Sept. 23, 1586] robbed 
England of her poet-hero' (Symonds* Sidney ^ p. 95). 

^Letter of Lyly to Burleigh, July 1583 {Lansdozvne MS. 36, Art. 76), quoted 
in Life, vol. i. p. 38. 


portrait of Sir Phiiip in the latter's violent quarrel with Oxford in 
September 1579 ^ 

With regajd to Genm and Dipsas I have already admitted that no Geron and 
better connterpart for then: relations can be found than those of the Earl ^P*^* 
and Countess of Shrewsbury, which Halpin suggests. 'Bess of Hardwick' 
was the most notable shrew of her time ; and Lodge's lllusiraiions teems 
with evidence of her quarrel with and slander kA her husband', a quarrel 
not made up (by the Queen) until 1566, and not finally then^ Shrewsbury's 
long absence from Court during his custody of Mary is, no doubt, the 
original of Geron's exile. On Aug. 5, 1582, he writes to the Queen 
'Having these ten years been secluded from your most gracious sight 
and hi4>py presence, which more grieveth me than any travel or discom- 
modity that I have suffered in this charge that it hath pleased your 
Majesty to put me in trust withal, I have taken the boldness' to beg 
a fortnight's leave of absence from his post in order to come to Court 
and clear himself of malicious accusations ^ Not till the autumn of 1584, 
after he had been released from his charge, was the opportunity granted 
him ; when ' being lately come tmto the Court,' at a meeting of the Privy 
Council at which Burleigh, Leicester, the elder Sidney, Hatton and 
Walsingham were present, he refused to take his seat amongst them as 
a privy councillor until he was cleared by them of disloyalty in the 
execution of his charge; and the Council, readily acceding, recorded 
a special minute to that effect, which Dugdale speaks of as 'a memorable 
Testimonial V These vague charges disseminated by Shrewsbury's wife 
are, as Halpin perceived, very like the vague displeasure of Cynthia 
under which Geron rests and which is due to Dipsas' arts " ; and Dares' 
mention of a pathetic speech made by Geron on his return to Court ^ is 
surely an allusion to this scene in the Privy Council, of which Lyly may 

^ Symonds {^Sidney, pp. 67-8) quotes Greville'i detailed accotmt of the quarrel. 

' The difference seems to have commenced in 1577, when she wbhed him to 
move with Muy from Sheffield to Chatsworth. In 1579 his allowance from the 
Treasury was reduced by about one quarter. Towards the close of 1583 the 
Countess left her husband {Diet. Nat. Biog,^ art. 'Talbot, Elizabeth, Countess of 
Shrewsbury'). On Oct 18, 1583, Shrewsbory writes to Walsingham defending 
himself against the cbai^ge of disaffection to Elisabeth and * undutifid respects ' 
with whidi he has been touched 'touching the queen of Scots' (Xx>dge*s lUus- 
irations, ii. 339). On Aug. 8, 1584, he writes to Leicester, alluding to ' my wicked 
and malicious wife,' and his son's partisanship with her (Id , ii. 243) : while on 
Nov. 9, 1585, there is allnsioD in a further letter to 'my wife and her imps' 
(Id., ii. 375). 

» Calendar of State Papers (Domestic), 1581-90, pp. 451-5. In 1589 the 
Queen again writes desiring; him to allow his wife access. 

* Lodge's Illustrations, iu 338. 

^ Lodge's Illustrations y ii. 347 ; the minute is dated * At Oatlands 15 Sept. 1584* 
(No. 189). 

* Cf. Act iii. sc 4, p. 53 'vnto Cynthia must I discouer all my sorrowes, who 
also must worke in mee a contentment,' and v. 3, p. 72. 

' Act v. sc. I, p. 63 (after a remark on Eumenides' strange tale) *The other 
old man, what a sad speech vsed he, that caused vs almost all to weepe.' 



well enough have heard some account. There is, perhaps, little historical 

warrant for crediting Lady Shrewsbury with special hostility to Leicester, 

unless it was she who informed Simier of his marriage with Lettice : but 

it is to be noted that the action of Dipsas against Endimion is undertaken 

with reluctance and purely at Tellus' prompting, 'for/ says Dipsas, 'from 

lier gather wee all our simples to maintaine our sorceries^' ; while in the 

marriage of Lord Charles Stuart, referred to above ^ we have a definite 

plot organized between Mary and the Countess (Tellus and Dipsas) 

which gave the greatest displeasure to the Queen. The intrigue against 

Endimion, indeed, is scantly supported in the Court history by any 

similar intrigue of moment against Leicester ; and if this point of the 

parallel were to be pressed, we should rather have to identify Dipsas with 

Catherine de' Medici, as standing behind Simier in his revelation of 

Leicester's marriage. This, however, would deprive us of the obvious 

correspondence of Geron and Dipsas to the Shrewsbury couple ; and it is 

far more probable that the plot against Endimion is, chiefly, the author's 

device for linking together the different personages of his plot, while 

it serves to enlist sympathy for his hero, the favourite. 

Floscula Of the remaining characters Floscula and Bagoa alone are of any 

and Bagoa. importance to the allegory, though Sir Tophas may possibly claim 

a definite original. Floscula appears to hold the post of confidential 

attendant to Tellus, though she does not accompany her in exile. Bagoa 

is maid to Dipsas, and entirely subject to her authority. Both women 

feel a warm sympathy for Endimion. Floscula, after a vain endeavour to 

dissuade Tellus, dissociates herself definitely from her schemes '. Bagoa, 

used as an instrument, betrays the plot to Cynthia's councillors, is changed 

to an aspen by Dipsas, but retransformed by Cynthia. Floscula's feeling 

for Elndimion is the subject of a suspicious question by Cynthia \ and 

of a slighting remark by Eumenides ^ ; while Endimion on his recovery 

assures her of the continuance of his 'former affections": but as an 

agent in his restoration she takes no part. I confess I am tempted by 

Halpin's identification of her with Lady Essex, and of both with 

Shakespeare's ' little western flower ' ; for Shakespeare, it is clear, knew 

Lyly's work through and through, and the translation of Lyly's Cynthia, 

Tellus, and Floscula into his own ' cold moon,' ' the earth,' and the ' little 

western flower V is both literal and quite consistent with the other 

contents of Oberon's speech, especially if Lyly's Tellus be Mary Queen 

of Scots. Nor need we be disturbed by the specific epithet ' western,' 

^ Act ii. sc. 3. 38. It is probably an allusion to the allowance the Shrews- 
buries received for Mary's support 

* p. 94- 

' Act i. sa 4. 5 ' I will in this case neither gine counsell nor consent.' 

* Act iv. sc. 3. 61 * Are you in loue with his person ?' 

' Act V. sc. 1. 148 * Doe not that wrong to the setled friendship of a man, as 
to compare it with the Ught affection of a woman.' 

* Act V. sc. 3. 197. ' 06eroH*s Vinm, p. 87, 


which seems at first to justify Boaden in pointing to Amy Robsart ; for, 
accompanied as it is by the * fair vestal throned by the west/ ' western * 
need mean no more than 'English.' Shakespeare, at any rate, who 
follows Lyly in this allegory as in several other points of the Midsummer 
Ni^ifs Dream'^y may well have believed that Lettice was meant. 
Certainly no other passion of Leicester's is of such historical importance 
as to entitle its subject to a mention along with Mary and Elizabeth ; and 
if the flower be allegorical at all, the line 

'Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound,' 

is beautifully applicable in Halpin's sense, though we may not like to see 
our favourite poet making courtly allusions to criminal intrigue. It is 
significant, too, that Floscula, whose confessed 'goodwill' to him 
Endimion owns, in Cynthia's absence, to be 'better then I haue 
deserued ',' remains, like Cynthia, unpaired at the close ; while Tellus, 
Semde, Bagoa and Dipsas all find a mate. Halpin tells us that Leicester 
regained Elizabeth's favour in 1579 by denying on oath that he was 
married to Lettice ' ; and Lyly may be adopting the view which the Queen 
preferred, in public, to accept. Cynthia's dispassionate tone to Floscula ^ 
and her insignificance to the action, are not out of harmony with such 
a view : yet as they are quite irreconcileable with the real facts as regards 
Lady Essex, I suggest as an alternative Frances Howard, third daughter 
of Lord Howard of Eflingham. On May 11, 1573, Gilbert Talbot 
writes to his father the Earl of Shrewsbury that the sisters, Lady Sheffield 
and Frances Howard, are both * very far in love' with Leicester*, and the 
latter's active sympathy with him at the period of his disgrace is shown 
by the part she took in a ruse to revive Elizabeth's tenderness for him. 
A beseeching letter, addressed by Leicester to Burleigh, but meant for the 
royal eye, was handed by her to Burleigh in the presence-chamber, and 
dropped in the handing, with the expected result that the Queen demanded 
to see it*. Floscula's superfiuousness to the action is some reason for 
supposing that she was not the mere creature of the author's brain, but 
had a definite original : yet the effort to identify every character may well 
be vain where so many of the lines in the maze of Court intrigue must 
have been effaced by time. 

For Bagoa, who is far more important than Floscula, not indeed to 

' See essay on * Lyly as a Playwright,' vol. ii. pp. 297-8. 

* Act V. sc. 1. 15a. * Oheron*s Visum, p. 40. 

* Act iv. sc 3, p. 63 ' Flosc, O Endimioo, could spight itself deuise a mis- 
chiefe so monstrous ? . . . Where others number their yeeres, their houres, their 
minutes, and steppe to age by staires, thou onely hast thy yeeres and times in 
a cluster, being olde before thou remembrest thou wast younge. Cynth, No 
more Floscula, pittie dooth him no good : I would any thing els might/ &c. 

* Lodge's Illustrations, ii. 100. 

* 1 am indebted for this incident to Mr. Baker*s introduction {EndymicH, 
pp. Ixix-lxx). He quotes it from Parsons* Memoirs of Robert Dudley^ iv. 19, 20, 
but without applying it to the allegory. 

H 2 


Endimion's restoration, but to the discovery of Telltis' intrigue, no original 
has hitherto been suggested. If I am right in regarding the plot of Mary 
and Lady Shrewsbury for the marriage of Lord Charies Stuart in 1574 as 
the original of the alliance between Tellus and Dipsas, a natural 
representative for Bagoa presents herself in Lady Lennox, the third party 
to that plot, who is found writing excuses on the subject to the Queen's 
ministers, represented in the play by Panelion and Zontes, in the winter 
of that year ^ This attitude of submission and excuse, really dictated 
by her fears of Elizabeth, who, says Froude, sent her to the Tower, is 
represented in the play by Dipsas' transformation of her to a qurvering 
aspen-tree, from which by favour of Cynthia she is restored to her former 
shape. Lady Lennox, the mother of Damley and Lord Charles Stuart, is 
certainly an old woman, while Sir Tophas' reversion to her from the 
crone Dipsas implies Bagoa's comparative youth; but otherwise Lady 
Lennox fairly fulfils the requirements of the part. 
SirTophas. For Sir Tophas Halpin suggests Stephen Gosson, who sought to inspire 
his * schoole ' with military ardour as a diversion from * stage plaies ' ; 
but he acknowledges that too little of Gosson's verse survives to allow us 
to compare it with Lyl/s parody '. Beyond the general ground of Gosson's 
attack upon the stage in TAe Schoole of Abuse in 1579, there seems no 
reason why Lyly should satirize him ; and the complimentary reference in 
Euphues and his England^ to Gosson's defence of The Schoole^ entitled 
The Ephemerides of PhialOy makes against such an idea. Much more 
probable is Professor Ward's suggestion ^, which by an odd mistake he 
attributes to Halpin, of Gabriel Harvey. From a passage in Pappe with 
a Hatchet ^ we know that Lyly had long cherished a grudge against this 
*' old acquaintance ' : the scoffing allusion to Sir Tophas' verses is 
appropriate to Harvey's experiments in metre: his patronizing self- 
sufficiency, his affectation of learning ^ his grammatical jokes ^, his flow 
of quotations, and Epiton's remark ' Nothing hath made my master 
a foole but flat schollership ',' are all reflective of the pedant ; and his 
behaviour to two lively girls, brought in for the express purpose of rallying 

^ See the dialogue between Panelion and Zontes about Bagoa, Act v. ae. 3. p. 71. 
Lady Lennox's part in the transaction is related by Froude, x. ch. 60, pp. 398 sqq., 
pop. ed. On Dec. 3, 1574, she writes to Burleigh lamenting; the Queen's dis- 
pleasure in the matter, and enclosing copy of a former letter to Leicester on the 
same subject. On Dec. 10 she again writes to Burleigh from Hackney, excusing 
herself for visiting the Countess of Shrewsbury and consenting to the marriage. 
On Dec 33 Walsingham writes to the Earl of Huntingdon with questions tooe 
put to Lady Lennox's secretary about the marriage. \Calendar of State Papers, 
Domestic^ 1547-80, p. 489.) 

■ Oberon*! Vision^ p. 75 ; and cf. Act iv. sc. a. p. 55. * VoL ii. p. 99, 1. 1 7. 

* English Dramatic Literature ^ i. 292 (ed. 1899). 

' Pappe (vol. iii) ' for this tenne yeres haue I lookt to lambacke him' — ^written in 
the autumn of 1589. 

* Act i. sc. 3. 91, loa ' all Mars and Azs ' : 'the Latine bath saued your lines.* 
» Act iii. sc 3. 5-19. * Act v. sc 2. 38. 



him \ looks fike a peraonal reminiscence. Doubtless it is vain to seek in 
this academic personage any analogy to Sir Tophas' burlesque passion 
lor Dipsas or his marriage with Bagoa, but Sir Tophas lies so much away 
firom the plot that this matters little ; nor was Gabrid Harvey so entirely 
without Court influence but that he was able to give Spenser an introduction 
to Sir Philip Sidney ^ 

To attempt an identification of the remaining characters is needless, 
and would probably be vain, since they have no real part in the action 
nor any distinguishing marks. We therefore present our amended cast 
for comparison with Halpin's. • 




(the Earl of Leicester) 

the Earl of Leicester 


(the Earl of Sussex) 

Sir PhUip Sidney 


(Sir Edward Stafford) 

Sir Amyas Paulet 

the Earl of Shrewsbury 


(the Earl of Shrewsbury) 

Zontes . 


? (Lord Burleigh 

? \ Sir Francis Walsingham 

Sir Tophas 

(Stephen Gosson) 

Gabriel Harvey 


(Queen Elizabeth) 

Queen Elizabeth 


(Lady Sheffield (nde 

Mary Queen of Scots 


(Frances Sidney) 

Lady Rich (n^ Pene- 
lope Devereux) 


(Lady Essex) 

Lady Essex, or Frances 



? the Countess of Lennox 


(the Countess of Shrews- 

the Countess of Shrews- 



If the above cast be accepted, it is clear that the general scope of the 
play must be widened far beyond the bounds of Halpin's interpretation. 
His theory of its subject as Leicester's imprisonment consequent on 
Simier's revelation concentrates attention on what was, in fact, only 
a brief iixcident in a much longer period of Court dis&vour caused by his 
opposition to the Anjou match, and elevates into political importance two 
ladies who were really of but slight significance. It was perfectly admissible 
for a dramatist to do this, but it would have been most impolitic in 
a Court dramatist The introduction of people like Lady Sheffield or 
Lady Essex as direct competitors with the Queen was a piece of audacity 
that could hardly fail to be displeasing to Elizabeth; and, when we 

* Act ii. sc. a. 

' It is, however, faintly possible that Ljly*s late master, Oxford, is intended ; in 
which case Epiton will be Ljly himself. 


remember how sharp was the wound to her feelings caused by Leicester s 
marriage, it is all but incredible that either Leicester or Lyiy would dream 
of venturing to dramatize the subject before the whole Court, even if we 
could conceive Leicester willing, as Mr. Baker imagines, to represent his 
wife as a poor dupe, the mere cloak to cover his real passion for Elizabeth. 
I doubt if his marriage has any place in the piece whatever. The tissue 
of vulgar intrigue disclosed to us in the pages of Mr. Halpin's essay is not 
a story of which Elizabeth, either as an injured woman or as the crowned 
representative of Chastity, could have wished to be reminded. Much 
more probable is it that Lyly, recently appointed as caterer for her 
amusement and casting about for means to flatter his mistress, turned his 
attention to the royal prisoner, so long Elizabeth's rival, the fear of whose 
machinations was urgent in all men's hearts in 1585. This rivalry, these 
machinations, together with the equally perennial royal affection for 
Leicester, are the most salient features in the domestic annals of the 
reign ; and a sufficient warrant for their dramatic connexion was supplied 
by the match actually contemplated between Mary and the favourite in 
J 563-1 565. These two, then, must be regarded as the double subject of 
the piece ; and they are supplemented by two subordinate ones (i) the 
quarrel between the Shrewsburies, (2) the relations of Sir Philip Sidney 
with his uncle and his mistress. This explanation, while it allows us to 
keep four or five of Halpin's identifications, gives us, I think, a fuller and 
more probable explanation of their functions in the piece, and supplements 
them by other figures more conspicuous than those Halpin selects. Its 
weak point is, doubtless, the want of any definite intrigue against Leicester 
by Mary or Lady Shrewsbury ; but the same weakness is inherent in the 
theory of Mr. Halpin, and in Mr. Baker's emendation of it. Neither 
Lady Sheffield nor Lady Essex can properly be credited with any intrigue 
against him : indeed, in spite of a widespread feeling of hatred and 
jealousy of the all-powerful favourite, it is difficult to point to any 
distinctly hostile action except that of Simier in the August of 1579. 
There are, as shown above, strong reasons against taking that incident as 
the chief subject of the play ^ General considerations, no less than the 
identification of particular characters, require us to widen its scope. With 
that widening of scope there is imposed upon the dramatist the necessity 
of some invention for the securing of unity. He obtains it by making 
Mary and Lady Shrewsbury the direct causes of Leicester's disgrace, 
and thus enlisting for the favourite, his hero and perhaps his patron, 

^ It is likely enoagh, however, that representing as it does the acutest phase 
of the royal disfavoar, it is alluded to in the Three Ladies of the fiist part of 
Endimion's dream, which differs considerably in purport from the action of the 
play as a whole. I take the lady with the knife and the looking-glass to be 
Elizabeth herself (cf. especially the flattering language used in describing the 
victory of mercy over her anger; v. i. 96-100), the prompter of cruelty to be 
Lady Sheffield or Lady Shrewsbury, and the sympathetic lady to be Lady Essex. 


ft sympathy which neither on grounds of fact or character did he at all 

I will close this essay with the briefest reference to a fer greater poet 
than Lyly. Mr. Colvin in his monograph on Keats {English Men of 
Letters)^ p. 93, says ' In his own special range of Elizabethan reading, he 
was probably acquainted with Lyl/s Court comedy of Endimion^ in 
prose, which had been edited, as it happened, by his friend Dilke a few 
years before [i.e. in Old Plays ^ voL i. 1814] : but in it he would have 
found nothing to his purpose.' Yet on p. 95 Mr. Colvin adds *' it is the 
passion of the human soul for beauty which he attempts, more or less 
consciously, to shadow forth in the quest of the shepherd-prince after his 
love ' : and since this ideal aspect of love, and the contrast of such with 
more earthly passion, certainly forms one aspect of Lyl/s play (see above, 
p. 83), I think we are justified in claiming the latter as among the 
possible formative influences in Keats' poem. Michael Drayton's Man 
in the Moone"^, to which Mr. Colvin also refers in regard to Keats, 
cannot, I think, be said to owe anything to Lyly, except perhaps the 
title: nor do I trace any connexion between Drayton's poem and The 
Woman in the Moone, 

^ Poemes Lyrick and pastorall, Odes^ Eglogs^ The Man in the Moone, By 
Michtull Drayton^ Esquier, At London^ Printed Sy R, B,forN. L, and /. Flasket, 
n. d. [1604 or 1605]. The Man in the Moone was adapted from an earlier and, 
I think, better poem — about 1000 rhymed heroics — entitled Endimion and Phcebe, 
Ideas iMtmvs, which appeared withont date in 1594. It describes how Phoebe 
Inlled her shepherd to sleep for < thirty yeeres ' that she might descend to him at 
will ; and promises to relate elsewhere * what in vision there to him befell.' The 
Man in the Mootte has an allusion to lunary : 

'As my great brother, so have I a flower 
To me peculiar, that doth ope and close 
When as I rise, and when I me repose.' 



* 4^ octobris 1591 mystres Broome Wydowe Late Wyfe of William Broome 
Entred for her copies vnder the hand of the Bishop of Loodon : Three Comedies 
plaied before her maiestie by the Children of Panles th one Called . Endimion. 
Th other . Galathea and th other, Midas . • . zviij^^/ S/a, Reg, ii. p. 596 (ed. 

Q. Midas . | PlaUd before \ the Qveenes Maiestie \ vpon Twelfe Day at \ night, By 
the Children \ of Paules , \ London \ Printed by Thomas Scarlet for /. B, \ and 
are to be sold in PauUs Churchyard at \ the signe of the Bible . | 1593 . | 4to. 
A, A 2y A-G 4 in fours. No colophon. (JBr, Mus. : BocU, : Z>yce ColL S, Ken- 

Under date 2$ Aug. 1601 Midas, together with Camp., Sapho and Phao, Galla- 
thea and Endim,, is transferred to George Potter {Sta, Reg, iii. p. 191, ed. Arb., 
quoted under Camv ASVE-Editions), 

The Sixe Ccvrt Comedies are entered to Edward Blount under date 9 Jan. 1628 
{Sta, Reg, iv. p. 193, ed. Arb., quoted under CAMPASPB-^d&Vil^ifx). 

Second ed. MYDAS . | Played before the Queenes \ Maiestie vpon Twelfe \ 

(Blount's). Day at Night. \ By the Children of\ Pauls, \ London, \ 

Printed by William Stansby, \for Edward Blount, \ 163a. | 
i2mo, occupying sigs. s I2>Z3, in twelves, of the Sixe Covrt Comedies. 
Also in Old English Plays, vol. 1 (1814), with Introduction and Notes by 
C. W. Dilke; and in Fairholt's edition of Lyly's Dramatic Works, vol. ii (1858). 


Argument. — Bacchus, in return for the hospitality of MidaSi 
king of Phrygia, offers to grant him anything he may desire. Eristus 
advises him to ask his mistress; Martius^ the sovereignty of the 
world; but Midas prefers the advice of a third councillor Mella- 
crites, and asks that his touch may turn everything to gold. A brief 
exercise of this power, which operates on his food, wine and raiment, 
reduces him to beg to be released from it. By the god's advice 
he bathes in the Factolus, and transfers to its waters the fatal gift« 
A mood of sullen discontent follows (iv. i, p. 141, v. 3, p. 159). As 
he is hunting in a wood on Mount Tmolus he comes upon the gods 
Pan and Apollo about to engage in a musical competition, of which 
the Nymphs are to be umpires. Associated with them in this func- 
tion Midas decides for Pan, and his crass judgement is punished by 
Apollo with asses' ears. For a time he contrives to conceal them 
beneath a tiara; but the Nymphs have spread the news of his 
disgrace, and the words 'Midas the king hath asses' ears,' spoken 
by shepherds, are reproduced by some reeds as they wave in the 
wind. This prodigy is reported to the king by his discreet and 
affectionate daughter Sophronia, by whose advice he seeks Apollo's 
oracle at Delphi. There on his acknowledgement of folly and 
profession of repentance the curse is removed, and he returns to 
Phrygia vowing to relinquish those designs of conquest, especially 
against the heroic islanders of Lesbos, his iU-success in which has 
supplied the undercurrent of his thoughts throughout the play. 

Comic relief is sought in the relations between some Court-pages 
and the royal barber Motto, who, robbed by them of the golden 
beard he has cut from Midas' chin, recovers it by curing Petulus' 
toothache; but is afterwards entrapped into treasonable utterance 
of the secret of the asses' ears, and compelled to surrender the beard 
as the price of their silence. 

Text. — The text followed is that of the first and only known 
quarto, of 1592, which is unusually pure, presenting only eight 

io8 MIDAS 

positive errors, besides one or two of punctuation, though it lacks 
the four songs and a few indispensable stage-directions. 

Blount gives us the missing songs, and corrects one of the quarto's 
errors, 'querenda,' p. 117; but introduces six others, besides omitting 
a word in six places. 

Dilke, who rightly follows the quarto rather than Blount and, 
further, supplies some half-dozen needed stage-directions, modernizes 
the text in about a dozen places, e.g. p. 134 'travail' for 'trauel/ 
154 'bauble' for 'Bable,' 157 'own' for *owe,' makes eight other 
alterations which may be classed as emendations, and about a score 
which are quite the reverse, e.g. p. 118 'statute,' p. 120 'no other,' 
p. 137 'forward,' p. 140 * Ah' for *I' (pron.), 141 'ears,' 'swan' for 
the jesting 'goose,' and p. 157 'dente' for Motto's mistake 'dento.' 

Fairholt as usual follows Blount, correcting three of his corruptions, 
and adding two corrections of the original text ; but making twelve 
corruptions of his own, e.g. pp. 126 'admit' for 'omit,' 131 'use' 
for 'lose, 141 'they' for 'there,' 147 'Min,' for 'Lie' 

I have adopted all dear emendations made by others, and added 
three (pp. 118, 136, 138), with one or two further stage-directions; 
reporting all variants in the footnotes. 

Authorship. — Lyly's name is not on the title-page of the quarto : 
but the performance of the play by the Paul's boys, its inclusion 
by Blount, its marked style, and about a dozen reminiscences of 
Euphues (though these are fewer and fainter than formerly, and the 
play contains very few allusions to natural history), are sufficient to 
prove his authorship. 

Sources and Allegory. — Dilke's introduction to the play says 
' For the subject and incidents of this Comedy Lyly was indebted to 
Ovid, Galtruchius, and " The Golden Ass " of Apuleius ; in the latter 
work the story is related at large.' It is unfortunate for this state- 
ment that Pierre Gautruche or Gaultruche, the author of LHistairt 
Potiique (first translated into English, 167 1, 8vo) was only bom, 
at Caen, in 1602 : and, further, that the De Asino of Apuleius, 
whose popular title seems so happily to combine the two instances 
of Midas' folly, contains no mention of Midas whatever; the Ass 
being of course Lucius, the hero of Apuleius' tale and of Lucian's 
KovKun ti "Ovtti^ and the epithet 'golden' being merely the tribute 
of appreciative posterity. The error, which has survived till quite 


Si recent year, is ultimately traceable to Langbaine {English DramaUck 
Poets^ Oxford, 1691, 8vo, p. 329). 

There remains as Lyly's sole source Ovid's Metamorphoses^ xi. 
85-193, which he closely follows. The only differences are that 
in Ovid Bacchus is under obligation for a service rendered to Silenus 
rather than to himself; that in Ovid no motive for Midas' desire of 
gold is suggested, while Lyly (as Hense suggests) supplies one in the 
thirst for conquest ; that after ridding himself of the fatal gift Midas 
betakes himself to a rural life, represented in Lyly by his hunting 
expedition; that in the contest between Pan and Apollo^ though 
Nymphs are present, it is Tmolus, the Genius of the mountain, who 
acts as umpire and whose decision is gratuitously contravened by 
Midas ; that it is Midas' barber, alone cognizant of the ears, who 
whispers the secret into a hole he digs in the ground, afterwards 
filling in the soil, above which reeds spring up to repeat his words 
when stirred by the wind ; and finally that Ovid mentions no expe- 
dition of Midas to Delphi, and no remission of the punishment ; nor 
is any such recorded by Hyginus, whose 191st Fable relates both 
incidents, with the omission of the barber and the reeds. — A few 
words in iv. 2, p. 145 seem indebted to a chapter about Midas in 
The Diall of Princes (see note ad loc). 

Lyly, then, has added the comic elements of the Pages and 
Pipenetta and the Huntsman, and the contest between the former 
and the barber for the possession of the golden beard. He has 
added, too, the characters of Midas' daughter and her ladies, and 
of Midas' three councillors ; and has credited Midas with ambitious 
designs on the territories of his neighbours, particularly on the island 
of Lesbos. Dilke (1814) was the first to observe that in this respect 
the play is intended as a satire on Philip II of Spain, representing 
'the produce of his mines in S. America by his desire to turn 
everything about him into gold; and the defeat of the Armada 
by the fruitless attempts of Midas to subdue the Island of Lesbos.' 
Halpin in Oberotis Vision (Shakespeare Soc. 1843), p. 104, offers the 
following conjectural key : 

Midas, king of Phrygia = Philip of Spain. 
Isles north of Phrygia = British Isles. Lesbos =« England. 
Getulia, Lycaonia, Sola, &c. « Portugal, the Netherlands, and other 
countries cruelly tyrannized over by Philip. 

Bacchus (the presiding deity of India) <= the Genius of the Indies. 
The golden gtft » the influx of precious metals into Spain. 

jio MIDAS 

Pactolus (with golden sands) = the Tagus. 

The contest in music = the controversy of the Reformation. 

Tmolus = (probably) Trent. 

Pan ('all' — Catholic) = Papal Supremacy. 

Apollo (the antagonistic principle) = Protestant Sovereignty. 

Syrinx = the Roman Catholic Faith. 

Daphne « the Protestant Faith. 

Motto (who betrays the ears of Midas) = Anthonio Perez, Philip^s 
secretary, banished for betraying secrets. 

Sophronia (daughter and successor of Midas) » Isabella, Philip's 
daughter, to whom, on her marrying the Archduke Albert, he resigned 
the sovereignty of the Netherlands. 

Martius ] the Dukes of Medina Sidonia and D'Alva; 

Mellicrates f ^ and Ruy Gomez de Libra [given in this 

Eristus (probably) j order]. 

The golden beard perhaps alludes to the order of the Golden Fleece* 


Probably most people will think that Halpin carries the allegory 
somewhat further than the author intended : especially we may note 
that Philip's decision for Catholicism as against Protestantism can 
hardly be represented as a secret that Midas long conceals from his 
daughter and his councillors (pp. 149-52, 158-9), a concealment 
for which, indeed, there is no adequate dramatic motive, seeing that 
his punishment is soon declared. But there can be little doubt 
about the identification of Martius, whose 'counsell hath shed as 
much bloud as would make another sea,' pp. 132,161 (v. 3. 1 11), with 
the pitiless Alva; and the play abounds in allusions to Philip's 
covetousness, treachery and tyranny, and to current events such as 
the bloodshed in the Netherlands, p. 130, the defeat of the Armada, 
p. 131, the expedition of Drake and Norreys, iv. 4. 12, and other 
points illustrated in the Notes. 

Date. — Obviously the play is written after the defeat of the 
Armada in 1588, and before its entry in the Stationers' Raster 
on Oct. 4, 1591. The allusion to Drake and Norreys' expedition 
to Portugal (Act iv. sc 4, p. 149 'suffers the enemies to bid vs good 
morrowe at our owne doors') which sailed Ap. 18, 1589 and re- 
turned in the middle of July, enables us to bring the upward limit 
down to May of that year ; while a passage in Harvey's Advertise- 
ment to Fapp-HatcJuit^ which forms the second Book of Pierc^i^ 
Supertrogation and is dated 'At Trinitie Hall : the fift of Nouember : 
1589,' supplies us with the downward limit: 'Faith, quoth himselfe. 


thou wilt be caught by the stile : Indeede what more easie, then to 
finde the man by his humour, the Midas by his eares, the Calfe 
by his tongue, the goose by his quill, the Playmaker by his stile, 
the hatchet by the Pap ^' Two other allusions, confirming Harvey's, 
occur in Nash's An Almond for a Farraty written probably in 
January or February, 1589-90 2. On p. 4 of Petheram's Reprint 
of that pamphlet we find 'for now a dayes, a man can not haue 
a bout with a Balletter or write Midas habet aures asininas in great 
Romaine letters, but hee shall bee in daunger of a further dis- 
pleasure': and on p. 41 'Pen. [i. e. Penry] with Pan, hath con- 
tended with AppoUo, and you lyke Midasses, haue ouerprised his 

From these allusions it would appear that the play was composed 
between May and September, 1589. The title-page announces it 
as • played before the Queenes Maiestie vpon Twelfe Day at Night 
By the Children of Pavls.' In Chalmers' list of payments made 
to the master of the PauPs Boys {BoswelPs Malone, iii. 425) is one 
on March 10, 1589-90 *for three plays on Sunday after Christmas- 
day, New Year's Day and Twelfth Day.' The last of these was 
probably Midas, performed at Coiut, therefore^ on January 6, 1590. 

Stage-History, Imitations. — Collier (Bisi. Dram. Poet i. 277) 
quotes the following from a tract printed abroad in 1592, with the 
title A Declaration of the true causes of the greate troubles supposed 
to be intended against the Realme of England, &c. — * And therefore 
as an introduction hereunto, to make him [the King of Spain] 
odious unto the people, certain players were suffered to scoffe and 
jeast at him uppon their common stages ; and the like was used in the 
contempt of his Religion, first by making it no better then Tiykish, 
by annexing unto the Psalmes of Dauid . . . this ensuinge meeter/ 
&C. Since the doggrel given is obviously not Lyly*s, Midas can 
hardly be the particular play referred to : but there seems considerable 
probability that, as Halpin suggests (pberoris Vision, p. 104, note), 

' Brydges* Archaica, ii. 139. Before reading Mr. Baker's Biographical Intro- 
duction to his edition of Endymion^ p. cl, I had not, I think, recognized the 
bearing of this passage on the date of Midas, Gabriel Harvey, writing at his 
Cambridge rooms, most have seen the play during the long vacation on the 
St Panl's stage, where its performance would serve as rehearsal for its production 
at Court. 

' Martin was, we are told, ' not many months since most wittily scofte at by the 
extemporall endeuour of the pleasant author of Pap with a hatchet ' (Petheram's 
Reprint, p. 12), 


it may have been one of them ; and Nash's remark in the Almond , 
quoted above, even seems to imply that Lyl/s play had, early in 
1590 or before, attracted official attention and remonstrance. 

Midas' asses' ears as the punishment of arrogance and folly are, 
no doubt, the original of Bottom's ass-head in A Midsummer Night's 

The relation between Motto and the Court-pages is probably the 
original of that between Vertigo, the tailor, and the courtiers in 
Fletcher and Rowle3r's Maid in the Mill. 

A burlesque entitled MidaSy by Kane O'Hara, was produced at 
Covent Garden in 1764, and reprinted several times in the succeed- 
ing years. In it Midas, introduced as an English squire and J. P., 
allies himself with an old tippler, Fan, to outwit Apollo, who, dis- 
guised as a shepherd, has won the hearts of a farmer's two daughters. 
Daphne and Nysa. Bribed by Mysis, the girls' mother, he decides 
at a musical contest for Pan's bagpipes against Apollo's guitar. 
Apollo reveals himself, punishes Midas with asses' ears, and reascends 
to heaven. The burlesque must have been popular, though I can 
find but little of the wit and humour which Dilke in his prefatory 
note to oiu: play took occasion to eulogize. 

Place and Time. — The expedition to Delphi in v. 3 violates 
the Unity of Place, which otherwise we might, by locating the 
palace at Sardis (mentioned Ovid, Met. xi. 137) instead of in 
Phrygia proper, claim to be observed in this as in all other of Lyly's 
comedies except Endimion. No instance occurs of a transfer of 
place in the middle of a scene; though, to avoid such, we have 
to suppose the locality of the reeds, where the shepherds are 
wandering in ii. 2, to be within easy distance of the palace in iv. 4 
and V. I. 

Unity of Time is violated by Sophronia's remark at the beginning 
of Act V, that the wonder of the ears is 'nine dayes past,' and by 
the expedition to Delphi : but the general aim at continuity of scene 
within the limits of the single Act is quite clear (see ii. 2 end, 
Petulus' excuse for not going to Bacchus' temple with the lords 
at end of ii. i ; and iv. 2 end * I heare some comming '), though 
it is violated by the compression necessary for the hunting described 
in Act iii p. 139, by the opening words of iv. 4 about Midas being 
'melancholy since his hunting,' and by the changes of scene in 
Act V. Acts ii and iii are closely continuous. 


aodaretD.bcrciUui Paula Cliurcbyanlu 

the ligae of the Bible 


Councillors of Midas, 

^Shepherds. 15 





Midas, King of Fhrygia. 




Licio, Page to Calia. 

Petulus, Page to Mellacrites, 

MiNUTius, another Page. 10 

Motto, a Barber, 

Dello, his Boy, 





Amyntas, , 


Erato, a Nymph, 

Other Nymphs. ao 

SoPHRONiA, Daughter of Midas. 

C^lia, Daughter of Mellacrites. 

Camilla, ' 

Amerula, other Ladies of the Court. 

Suavia, j 25 

Pipenetta, Maid to Calia. 

Scene — Phrygia and Delphi.) 

Dramatis Person a] list first supplied Dil.^ F. adding Erato. / have 
made their descriptions more precise 6 Coancillors &c.j Gentlemen of the 

Court Dil. F. 8 Licio, Page to Cselia] DiL F. simply bracket Lido, Petalns 

and Minutiiu as 'Servants* a 2 CiCLiA, Daughter of Mellacrites] Dil. F. 

simply bracket her with the three Jollowing as * Ladies of the Court a6 

Pipenetta, Maid to Cselia] Dil. F. describe her as'ti Serrant ' Scene-* 

Phiygia and Delphos supfil. F. 


GEntkmen^ so nice is the worlds that for apparrel there is no , 
fashion^ for Musick no instrument, for diet no delicate, for 
playes no inuention^ but breedeth sacietie before noone, and contempt 
before night 

5 Come to the Tayler^ hee is gone to the Paynters, to ieame howe more 
cunning may lurke in the fashion^ then can bee expressed in the 
making, Aske the Musicions, they will say their heads ake with 
deuising notes beyonde Ela, Enquire at Ordinaries, there must be 
sallets for the Italian ; picktooths for the Spaniard; pots for the 

10 German ; porridge for the Englishman, At our exercises, Souldiers 
call for Tragedies^ their obiect is bloud : Courtiers for Commedies, 
their subiect is loue ; Countriemen for Pastoralles^ Shepheards are 
their Saintes, Trafficke and trauell hath wouen the nature of all v. 
Nations into ours, and made this land like Arras, full of deuise, which 

>5 was Broade-cloth, full of workemanshippe. 

Time hath confounded our mindes^ our mindes the matter ; but all 
commeth to this passe, that what heretofore hath beene serued in 
seuerall dishes for a feaste, is now minced in a charger for a Galli- 
maufrey. If wee present a mingle-mangle, our fault is to be excused, 

20 because the whole worlde is become an Hodge-podge, 

Wee are ielous of your iudgementes, because you are wise ; of our , 
owne performance, because we are vnpetfect ; of our Authors deuice^ 
because he is idle, Onelie this doeth encourage vs, that presenting our 
studies before Gentlemen, thogh they receiue an inward mislike, wee 

'5 shall not be hist with an open disgrace, 

Stirps nidis vrtica est: stirps generosa, rosa. 

3 satietie Bl, mods. 9 Sallads Bl. mods, 10 porridge] Pottage 

Bl. F., cf Euph.p, 189, /. 33 

I 2 




SCiENA Prima. — {Gardens before Midas' Palace,) 

{Enter) Bacchus, Mydas, Eristus, Martius. {and 


Bacchus. TV /f Idas, where the Gods bestowe benefits they aske 
IVX thankes, but where they receiue good turns, they 
giue rewards. Thou hast filled my belly with meate, mine eares 
with musicke, mine eies with wonders. Bacchus of all the Gods is 
the best fellow, and Midas amongst men a king of fellows. All thy 5 
grounds are vineyards, thy come grapes, thy chambers sellers, thy 
houshold stuffe standing cuppes: and therfore aske any thing it 
shalbe graunted. Wouldest thou haue the pipes of thy conducts 
to run wine, the vdders of thy beasts to drop nectar, or thy trees to 
bud ambrosia? Desirest thou to be fortunate in thy loue, or in thy lo 
victories famous, or to haue the yeres of thy life as many as the 
haires on thy head? Nothing shalbe denied, so great is Bacchus^ so 
happie is Midas. 

Mid. Bacchus, for a king to begge of a God it is no shame, but 
to aske with aduise, wisdom ; geue me leaue to consult : least desir- 1 5 
ing things aboue my reach, I bee fiered with Phaeton: or against 
2_ ^^ " nature, I be drowned with Icarus: & so perishing, the world shal 
both laugh and wonder, crying, Magnis tamen excidit ausis. 

Bacchus. Consult, Bacchus will consent. 

Mid. Now my Lords, let me heare your opinions, what wish may ao 
make Mydas most happie and his Subiects best content ? 

Erist. Were I a king I would wish to possesse my mistresse, for 
what sweetnes can there be found in life, but loue ? whose wounds 
the more mortall they are to the heart, the more immortal they make 

Actus Primus . . . Midas* Palace: tke quartos division into Acts and 
Scefus is retained. The localities of the scenes are first marked in this edition 
s. D. [and Mellacrites] inserted Dil. 8 conducts] Conduits BU mods. 

17 l\Scalleds. 

>, ^ 

ACT I, sc. i] MIDAS 1 1 7 

35 the possessors : and who knoweth not that the possessing of that 
must bee most pretious, the pursuing whereof is so pleasing. 

Mar. Loue is a pastime for children, breeding nothing but follie, ^ 
and nourishing nothing but idlenes. I would wish to be monarch L\ S 
of the world, conquering kingdomes like villages, and being greatest 
^ on the earth be commaunder of the whole earth : for what is there 
that more tickles the mind of a king, then a hope to bee the only 
king, wringing out of euery countrie tribute, and in his owne to sit 
in triumph ? Those that call conquerors ambitious, are like those 
that tearme thrift couetousnes, clenlines pride, honestie precisenes. 
35 Commaund the world, Midas, a greater thing you cannot desire, 
a lesse you should not. 

Mid. What say you Meliacrites ? 

Me/. Nothing, but that these two haue said nothing. I would 
wish that euerie thing I touched might tume to gold : this is the 
40 sinewes of warre, and the sweetnesse of peace. Is it not gold that 
maketh the chastest to yeeld to lust, the honestest to lewdnes, the ^ ^^ 
wisest to foUie, the faithfuUest to deceit, and the most holy in heart, 
to be most hollow of hart ? In this word Gold are all the powers of 
the gods, the desires of men, the woonders of the worlde, the 
45 miracles of nature, the losenes of fortune and triumphs of time. 
By gold may you shake the courts of other Princes, and haue your 
own setled ; one spade of gold vndermines faster then an hundred 
mattocks of Steele. Would one be thought religious & deuout? 
Quart fum quisque sua nummarum seruai in area, iantutn habet &»fidd: 
50 Religions ballance are golden bags. Desire you vertue ? guarenda 
pecunia primum est, virtus post nummos: the first staire of vertue is 
money. Doeth anie thirst after gentrie, and wish to be esteemed 
beautiful? &* genus &*formam regina pecunia donat: king Coin hath 
a mint to stamp gentlemen, and art to make amiablenes. I denie < 
55 not but loue is sweet, and the marrowe of a mans minde, that to 
conquere kings is the quintessence of the thoughts of kings : why 
then follow both, Aurea sunt veri nunc scecuia, plurimus auro venit 
honos, auro conciliatur antor: it is a world for gold ; honor and loue 
are both taken vp on interest. Doth Midas determine to tempt the 
60 mindes of true Subiectes? to drawe them from obedience to 
trecherie, from their allegiance and othes to treason and periurie ? 
quid non mortalia pectora cogit auri sacra fames ? what holes doth 

50 ballance are so all, and again p, 118, /. oa ; 4/! End t. 3. 191 que- 

renda Bl. F. : qnerenda Q Dil. 57 Tero Dil misled by turmd tin Q 

xi8 MIDAS [act I 

not gold bore in mens hearts ? Such vertue is there in golde, that 
being bred in the barrennest ground, and troden vnder foote, it 
mounteth to sit on Princes heads. Wish gold Midas^ or wish not 65 ' 
^ to be Midas, In the councel of the gods, was not Anubi^ with his 
"\ ' ' long nose of gold, preferred before Neptunes^ whose statua was but 
*- / ^ brasse? And jEsculapius more honored for his golden beard, then 
/ / Apollo for his sweet harmonie ? 
y Erist, To haue gold and not loue, (which cannot be purchast by 7° 
1 1 > gold) is to be a slaue to gold. 

Mar, To possesse mountains of gold, and a mistresse more 
precious then gold, and not to commaunde the world, is to make 
Mydas new prentise to a mint, and lomeiman to a woman. 

MeL To enioy a fairc Ladie in loue, and wante faire gold to geue : 75 
to haue thousands of people to fight, and no peny to paye — wil make 
/ ones mistresse wilde, and his soldiers tame. Jupiter was a god, but 
he knew gold was a greater : and flewe into those grates with his golden 
winges, where he coulde not enter with his Swannes wings. What 
staide Atalantas course with Hippomanes f an apple of gold : what 80 
made the three goddesses striue? an apple of gold. If therfore thou 
make not thy mistres a goldfinch, thou mayst chance to find her 
a wagtaile : beleeue me, J^es est ingeniosa dare. Besides, how many 
gates of cities this golden key hath opened, we may remember of late, 
and ought to feare hereafter. That iron world is wome out, the S5 
golden is now come« Sub loue nunc mundus^ iussa seguare louis. 
Erist, Gold is but the guts of the earth. 

Mel, I had rather haue the earthes guttes, then the Moones 
braines. What is it that gold cannot cdmand, or hath not conquered ? 
V lustice her selfe, that sitteth wimpled about the eyes, doth it not 90 
because shee will take no gold, but that she would not be seene 
, V blushing when she takes it: the ballance she holdeth are not to 

weie the right of the cause, but the weight of the bribe : she wil put 
vp her naked sword if thou offer her a golden scabberd. 

Mid, Cease you to dispute, I am determined. It is gold, Bacchus^ 95 
that Mydas desireth, let euery thing that Mydas toucheth be turned 
to gold, so shalt thou blesse thy guest, and manifest thy godhead. 
Let it be golde Bacchus, 

Bacchus, Midas thy wish cleaueth to thy last word. Take vp this 
stone. «oo 

66 counseUi?/./'.: council Z)i/. An\ih\& all eds, 67 Neptune /)i7. A ftatna] 
:»tatare Q Bl, F, : sUtute Dil, 70 by] with DiL 80 AtlanUs Q BL DiL 

sci] MIDAS 119 

Mid. Fortunate MydasI It is gold MeliacritesI gold! it is 
gold I 

Mel. This stick. 

Mid. Gold Mellacritesl my sweet boy al is gold! for euer 
105 honoured be Bacchus, that aboue measure hath made Mydas 

Bacchus. If Mydas be pleased Bacchus is, I will to my temple 

with Silenus, for by this time there are many to offer vnto me 

sacrifices : Panam pro muntre poscis. {Exit Bacchus.) 

MO Mid. Come my Lords, I wil with golde paue my court, and deck 

with gold my turrets, these petty ilands neer to Phrygia shal totter, 

and other kingdoms be turned topsie turuie : I wil commaund both 

the affections of men, and the fortunes. Chastitie wil growe cheape 

where gold is not thought deere; Celia^ chast Celia shall yeeld. 

115 You my Lords shall haue my handes in your houses, turning your 

brasen gates to fine gold. Thus shal Mydas be monarch of the 

world, the darer of fortune, the commander of loue. Come let vs in. 

Mel. We follow, desiring that our thoughtes may be touched with 

thy finger, that they also may become gold. 

lao Erist. Wei I feare the euent, because of Bacchus last words, 

panam pro munere poscis. 

Mid. Tush, he is a dronken god, els he woulde not haue geuen 
so great a gift Now it is done, I care not for any thing he can doe. 


ScE. 2.— {The same.) 
{Enter) Licio. PetULUS. 

Licto. nr^Hou seruest Mellacrites^ and I his daughter, which is the 
JL better man ? 
Pet. The Masculin gender is more worthy then the feminine, 
therfore Licio^ backare. 
5 Licio. That is when those two genders are at iarre, but when they 
belong both to one thing, then — 
Pet. What then? 

Licio. Then they agree like the fiddle and the stick. 
Pet. Pulchri sani. Gods blessing on thy blewe nose ! but Licio^ 
xo my mistres is a proper woman. 

113 the*] their Bl, F. 114 not om. Bl. F. 119 fingers F. i 

Licio] Lit Q 

122 MIDAS [act I 

Enter Pipenetta. 

Liao, But soft, here comes Pipenetta : what newes ? 

Pip, I would not be in your coats for any thing. 

Licio, Indeed if thou shouldest rigge vp and downe in our iackets, 90 
thou wouldst be thought a very tomboy. 

Pip. I meane I would not be in your cases. 

Pet. Neither shalt thou Pipenetta^ for first, they are too little for 
thy bodie, and then too faire to pull ouer so fowle a skinne. 

Pip. These boyes be droonk ! I would not be in your takings. 95 

Licio. I thinke so, for we take nothing in our hands but 
weapons, it is for thee to vse needles and pinnes, a sampler, not 
a buckler. 

Pip. Nay then wee shall neuer haue done ! I meane I would not 
be so courst as you shalbe. 100 

Pet. Worse and worse ! Wee are no chase (prettie mops,) for 

V Deere we are not, neither red nor fallowe, because we are Batchelers 

2. ^ and haue not comu copia^ we want heads : Hares we cannot be, 

Z L because they are male one yere, and the next female, wee change not 

our sex : Badgers we are not, for our legs are one as long as another : 105 
and who wil take vs to be Foxes, that stand so nere a goose, and 
bite not? 
^ Pip. Fooles you are, and therefore good game for wise men to 
hunt : but for knaues I leaue you, for honest wenches to talke of. 

JJcio. Nay stay sweet Pipenetta^ we are but disposed to be no 

Pip. I maruel how old you wil be before you be disposed to be 
honest. But this is the matter, my master is gone abroad, and wants 
his page to wayt on him : my mistresse would rise, and lacks your 
worshippe to fetch her haire. 1 1 5 

Pet. Why, is it not on her head ? 

Pip. Me thinks it should, but I meane the haire that she must 
weare to day. 

Licio. Why, doth she weare any but her owne ? 

Pip. In faith sir no, I am sure it is her owne when shee paies for lao 
it. But do you heare the strange newes at the Court ? 

Pet. No, except this be it, to haue ones haire lie all night out of 
the house from ones head. 

100 cant Bl. F. : coaried Dil. loa Deere we] Deere, we Bl. : Deere ; 

we F. J03 cannot be] are not Dil. 109 for ^ om. Bl. F, 117 that 

om. Dil. I ao it U] iU Bl. F. 


N- ) 

sc. n] MIDAS 123 

^ JHp. Tush 1 euerie thing that Mydas toucheth is gold. 
"5 Fet. The deuil it is ! 

Fip, Indeed gold is the deiiiL 
'^ lido. Thou art deceiued wench, angels are gold. But is it true ? 
Fip. True ? Why the meat that he tutcheth tumeth to gold, so 
doth the drinke, so doth his raiment 
130 Fet I would he would geue me a good boxe on the eare, that 
I might haue a golden cheeke. 

Lido, How happie shal we be if hee woulde but stroke our heads, 
that we might haue golden haires. But let vs all in, least he lose the 
vertue of the gift before wee taste the benefit 
135 Fip. If he take a cudgel and that turn to gold, yet beating you 
with it, you shal only feele the weight of gold. 

Fet What difference to be beaten with gold, and to be beaten 
Fip. As much as to say, drinke before you goe, and goe before 
140 you drinke. 

Lido. Come let vs goe, least we drinke of a drie cuppe for our 
long tarrying. Exeunt. 

ACTUS. 2. 

SCiE. 1. — {The same.) 


{Enter Eristus and CiELiA.) 

Erist. I ^Aire Calia, thou seest of gold there is sacietie, of loue - 
X there cannot 
Cat. If thou shouldst wish that whatsoeuer thou thoughtest might 
be loue, as Mydas what euer he toucht might be gold, it may be loue 
5 would bee as lothsome to thine eares, as gold is to his eyes, and 
make thy heart pinch with melancholic, as his guts doe with famine. 
Erist. No, sweet Calia, in loue there is varietie. 
Cal, Indeed men varie in their loue. 

Erist. They varie their loue, yet change it not. r 

10 CV^/. Loue and change are at variance, therefore if they varie, 
they must change. 

Erist. Men change the manner of their loue, not the humor : the 

I satiety Bl, mods. 



124 MIDAS [ACt II 

1^ c meanes how to obteine, not the mistiesse they honor. So did 
lupUer^ that could not intreat Dana$ks^ golden words, possesse his 
loue by a golden shoure, not alteriag-ldiitffection, but vsing art 15 

CaL The same Jupiter w^ an'Ag^^ a Swan, a Bull; and for 
euerie Saint a new shape, as men haue for euery mistres a new 
shadow. If you take example pf the gods, who more wanton, more 
wauering? if of your selues, being .but men, who wil think you more 
constant then gods ? EristuSy if gold could haue allured mine eies, ao 
thou knowest Mydas that commauq(^EBtb all thinges to bee gold, had 
conquered: if threats might haue feared my heart, Mydas being 
a king, might haue commaunded my affections : if loue, golde, or 
authoritie might haue inchaunted me, Mydas had obteyned by loue« 
golde, and authoritie. Quorum si singula nostram fiectere non poterant^ 35 
potuissent omnia menUm, 

ErisU Ah, Caliay if kinges saye they loue and yet dissemble, 
who dare say that they dissemble, and not loue? Tliey commaunde 
the affections of others yeeld, and their owne to be beleeued. My 
teares which haue made furrowes in my cheekes, and in mine eyes 30 
fountaines : my sighes, which haue made of my heart a furnace, and 
kindled in my head flames : my body that melteth by peecemeale, 
and my mind that pineth at an instant, may witnesse that my loue is 
both vnspotted, & vnspeakeable. Quorum si singula duram flectere 
non poteranty deberent omnia meniem. But soft, here commeth the 35 
Princesse, with the rest of the Lords. 

Enter Sophronia. (Mellacrites, Martius, and other courtiers^ 
Soph. MellacriteSy I cannot tell whether I should more mislike thy 
Gouncell, or Mydas consent, but the couetous humor of you both 
I contemne and wonder at, being vnfit for a king, whose honor should 
consiste in liberalitie, not greedines ; and vnworthy the calling of 40 
Mellacritesy whose fame should rise by the Souldiers god, Mars^ not 
-s by the merchants god, Gold. 

Mel. Madam, things past cannot be recalled, but repented ; and 
therfore are rather to be pittied than punished. It now behoueth vs 
how to redresse the miserable estate of our king, not to dispute of 45 
the occasion. Your highnes sees, and without griefe you cannot see^ 
that his meat tumeth to massie gold in his mouth, and his wine 
slideth downe his throte like liquide golde : if he touch his roabes 

95 noctnim BL F. 39 to hifori yeeld BL nwis* 8.D. Enter 

Sophronia: thus far Q BL F.; DUke adJin^ Mell. and Mart. 45 to 

consider iefifn how Dil, 

sc'i] MIDAS 125 

they are turned to gold, and what is not that toucheth him, but be- 

50 commeth golde? 

Erist I MeUaaites^ if thy tongue had been turned to gold before 
thou gauest our king such oouncel, Mydas heart had been ful of ease, 
and thy mouth of gold. 

Mar. If my aduise had taken place, Mydas that now sitteth ouer 

55 head and eares in crownes, had worn vpon his head many kings 
crownes, and been conqueroar of the world, that now is commaunder 
of drosse. That greedines of Mellacrites^ whose heart-stringes are 
made of PbUus purse-stringes, hath made Mydas a lumpe of earth, 
that should be a god on earth ; and thy effeminate minde Eristus^ 

60 whose eyes are stitcht on Calias face, and thoughts gyude to her ^' 

beautie, hath bredde in all the court, such a tender wantonnes, that 
nothing is thoght of but loue, a passion proceeding of beastly lust, *" 
and coloured with a courtlie name of k)ue. Thus whilest we follow 
the nature of things, we forget the names. Since this vnsatiable 

65 thirst of gold, and vntemperat humor of lust crept into the kings 
court, Souldiers haue begged almes of Artificers, and with their 
helmet on their head been glad to follow a Louer with a gloue in his 
hatte, which so much abateth the courage of true Captaines, that 
they must account it more honorable, in the court to be a cowarde, 

70 so rich and amorus, than in a campe to be valiant, if poore and 
maimed. He is more fauoured that pricks his finger with his mistres ! ^ • 
needle, then hee that breakes his launce on his enemies face : and 
he that hath his mouth full of fair words, than he that hath his bodie 
ful of deep scarres. If one be olde, & haue siiuer haires on his 

75 beard, so he haue golden ruddocks in his bagges, he must be wise 
and honourable. If young and haue curled locks on his head, 
amarous glaunces with his eyes, smooth speeches in his mouth, euerie 
Ladies lap shaibe his pillow, euery Ladies face his glasse, euery 
Ladies eare a sheath for his flatteries ; only Souldiers, if they be old, 

80 must beg in their owne countries ; if yong, trie the fortune of warres 
in another. Hee is the man, that being let bloud caries his arme in 
a scarfe of his mistres fauour, not he that beares hi^legge on a stilt 
for his Countries safetie. 

Soph, Stay MartiuSy though I know loue to growe to such losenes, v 

S5 and hoarding to such miserie, that I maye rather grieue at both, than 
remedie either : yet thy animating my father to continual! armes, to 

49 there before not Dil, 67 of* om, F, 60 gyude] guide Bl.i 

gyved DiL ; gyvde F. rightly 


126 MIDAS [actix 

conquere crowns, hath only brought him into imminent danger of 
his owne head. The loue hee hath followed — I feare vnnaturall, the 
riches he hath got — I know vnmeasurable, the warres he hath leuied — 
I doubt vnlawfull, hath drawn his bodie with graie haires to the 90 
graues mouth ; and his minde with eating cares to desperate deter- 
minations: ambition hath but two steps, the lowest bloud; the 
highest enuie : both these hath my vnhappie father climbde, digging 
mines of gold with the Hues of men, and now enuied of the whole 
world, is enuironed with enemies round about the world, not know- 95 
ing that ambition hath one heele nayled in hell, though she stretch 
her finger to touch the heauens. I woulde the Gods would remoue 
this punishment, so that Mydas would be penitent. Let him thrust 
thee, Eristus with thy loue, into Italie, where they honour lust for 
a God, as the Egyptians did dogs : thee, Mellacrites with thy greedi- 100 
) U ^ nes of gold, to the vtmost partes of the West, where all the guts of 

■':,'Y tl^6 earth are gold : and thee, Martins^ that soundest but bloud and 
terror, into those barbarous Nations, where nothing is to be found 
but bloud and terror. Let Phrygia be an example of chastitie, not 
luste; liberalitie, not couetousnes; valor, not tyrannie. I wish not 105 
your bodies banisht, but your mindes, that my father and your king 
may be our honor, and the worlds wonder. And thou, Ccelia^ and 
all you Ladies, learn this of Sophroniay that beautie in a minute is 
both a blossome and a blast : Loue, a worme which seeming to Hue 
in the eye, dies in the hart. You be all yong, and faire, endeuor all no 
to be wise & vertuous, that when, like roses, you shal fall from the 
stalke, you may be gathered & put to the stiU. 

CaL Madam, I am free from loue, and vnfortunate to be beloued. 

Erist. To be free from loue is strange, but to thinke scome to be 
beloued, monstrous. n^^ 

Soph. Eristus^ thy tongue doth itch to talke of loue, and my eares 
tingle to heare it I charge you all, if you owe any duetie to your 
king, to goe presently vnto the temple of Bacchus^ offer praise-giftes, 
and sacrifice, that Mydas may be released of his wish, or his life : 
this I entreate you, this Mydas commaunds you. larre not with 120 
your selues, agree in one for your king, if euer you took Mydas for 
your lawful king. 

Mel. Madam we will goe, and omit nothing that duety may per- 
forme, or paynes. 

Soph. Goe speedeHe, least Mydas die before you retume: and 125 

118 praise-giftes Q BL F.i praise, gifts, Dil, 123 admit F. 

sc.i] MIDAS 127 

you, CiBliay shal go with me, that with talk we may beguyle the time, 
and my father think of no meat 

ObL I attend. Exeunt. 

SCiENA 2. — {The same,} 

{Enter) Licio, Petulus, Pipenetta. 

Zicio. A H my girle, is not this a golden world ? 

^/\ Pip, It is all one as if it were lead with mee, and yet 
as golden with mee as with the king, for I see it, and feele it not, hee 
feeles it, & enioyes it not 
5 Licio. Gold is but the earths garbadge, a weed bred by the sunne^ 
the very rubbish of barren ground. 

Fet, Tush LiciOy thou art vnlettered ! al the earth is an egge : the 
white, siluer ; the yolk, gold. 

Lido. Why thou foole, what hen should lay that egge ? 
10 jPip. I warrant a Goose. 
Lido, Nay I beleeue a Bull. 
Pet. Blirt to you both ! it was layd by the Sunne. 

Pip. The Sun is rather a cock than a hen. ■> 

Lido. Tis true girle, els how could Titan haue troaden Daphne ? 
1 5 Pet. I weep ouer both your wits ! if I proue in euerie respect no 
difference between an egge and golde, will you not then graunt gold 
to be an egge ? 
Pip. Yes, but I beleue thy idle imagination wil make it an addle 

20 Lido. Let vs heare. Proceed Doctor egge. 

Pet. Gold wil be crackt : A common saying, a crackt crowne. 

Pip. I, thats a broken head. 

Pet. Nay then I see thou hast a broken wit. 

Lido. Wei, suppose gold wil crack. 
25 Pet. So wil an eg. 

Lido. On. 

Pet. An egge is rosted in the fire. 

Pip. Well. 

Pet. So is gold tried in the fire. 
30 Lido. Foorth. 

Pet. An egge (as Physicions say) will make one lustie. 

s. D. The three councillors are not, as usual in the old eds.^ enumerated with the 
servants at the head of the scene : their entry is duly notified at the proper plcue 


128 MIDAS [act II 

Pip, Conclude. 

Pet And who knowes not that gold will make one frolike ? 

Ldcio. Pipenetta this is true, for it is called egge, as a thing that 
doth egge on, so doth gold. 35 

Pip, Let vs heare all. 

Pet. Egges potcht are for a weake stomach, & golde boyld^ for 
a consuming bodie. 

Lido, Spoken like a Physicion. 

Pip, Or a foole of necessitie. 40 

Pet, An egge is eaten at one sup, and a portague lost at one 

Lido, Gamester-like concluded. 

Pet, £gs make custards, and gold makes spoones to eat them. 

Pip, A reason dowe-baked. 45 

Lido, O ! the ouen of his wit was not throwly heated. 

Pet, Only this ods I (inde betweene mony and egs, which makes 
2^ <C me wonder, that being more pence in the world than ^s, that 
one should haue three egges for a peny, and not three pence for an 
egge. 50 

Pip, A wonderful matter ! but your wisdome is ouershotte in your 
comparison, for egs haue chickens, gold hath none. 

Pet, Mops I pittie thee I gold hath egs ; change an angel into ten 
shillings, and all those peeces are the angels egges. 

Lddo, He hath made a spoke, wilt thou eat an egge ? but soft^ here 55 
come our masters, let vs shrinke aside. 

Enter Mellacrites, Martius, Eristus. 

Mel, A short answere, yet a sound, Bacchus is pithy and pitifulL 

(^Reads the) Oracle, 

Ln Pactolus goe bathe thy wish, and thee^ 
Thy wish the wanes shal haue, and thou be free. 
Mar, I vnderstand no Oracles ! shal the water turne euery thing 60 
to gold ? what then shal become of the fish ? shal he be free from 
gold ? what then shal become of vs, of his crowne, of our Countrie ? 
I like not these riddles. 

Mel, Thou Martius art so warlike, that thou wouldest cut of the 
wish with a sworde, not cure it with a salue : but the Gods that can 65 
geue the desires of the heart, can as easilie withdraw the torment. 

56 comet Dil, s. D. [Reads the Oracle] F, : Q Bl, Dil, have simpfy 


sen] MIDAS 139 

Suppose Vulcan should so temper thy sword, that were thy heart neuer 
so valeant, thine arme neuer so strong, yet thy blade shoulde neuer 
draw bloudy wouldest not thou wish to haue a weaker hand, and 
70 a sharper edge? 
Mar. Yes. 

MeL If Mars should answere thee thus, goe bath thy sword in 
water, and wash thy hands in milke, and thy sword shal cleaue 
adamant, and thy heart answere the sharpnes of thy sword, wouldst 
75 not thou trie the conclusion? 
Mar. What els? 

Mel. Then let Mydas beleeue tS he haue tried, and thinke that 
the Gods rule as wel by geuing remedies, as graunting wishes. But 
Erisius is mum. 
80 Mar, Calia hath sealed his mouth. 

Erist. Calia hath sealed her face in my heart, which I am no 
more ashamed to confesse, than thou that Mars bath made a scarre 
in thy face Martius. But let vs in to the king. Sir boies you wait 
85 Ftt We durst not go to Bacchus^ for if I see a grape, my head 
Erist. And if I finde a cudgell He make your shoulders ake. 
Mel. And you Luio^ wait on your selfe. 
JJcio. I cannot chuse sir, I am alwaies so neer my selfe. 
90 Mel. He be as neere you as your skin presently. Exeunt 


ScA. 1. — {77u same.y 

{Enter} Mydas, Mellacrites, Martius, Eristus. 
Midas {reading the Oracle). 

IN Pcutolus go bathe thy wish and thee, 
Thy wish the wanes shal haue, and thou be free. 
Miserable Mydas, as vnaduised in thy wish, as in thy successe 
vnfortunat O vnquenchable thirst of gold, which tumeth mens 
5 heads to lead, and makest them blockish ; their hearts to iron, and 

s. D. [reading the Oracle] addid F. i bathe Q mods. : bath Bl.* 


t30 MIDAS [act III 

makest them couetous ; their eyes to delight in the view, and makest 
them blinde in the vse. I that did possesse mynes of golde, could 
not bee contented till my minde were also a myne. Could not the 
treasure of Phrygia, nor the tributes of Greece, nor mountaines in . 
the East, whose guts are gold, satisfie thy minde with gold ? lo 
Ambition eateth gold, & drinketh blood ; climeth so high by other 
mens heads, that she breaketh her owne necke. What should I doo 
with a world of ground, whose bodie must be content with seauen 
foote of earth ? or why did I couet to get so manie crownes, 
hauing my self but one head? Those that tooke small vessellsat 15 
the sea, I accompted Pyrates ; and my selfe that suppressed whole 
Fleetes^ a Conquerour : as though robberies of Mydas might masque 
vnder the names of triumphs, and the traffique of other Nations 
bee called treacherie. Thou hast pampred vp thy selfe with slaughter, 
as Diamedes ^v\ his horse with blood; so vnsatiable thy thirst, so 20 
heauie thy sword. Two bookes haue I alwaies carried in my 
bosome, calling thenv the dagger, and the sword; in which the 
names of all Princes, Noblemen, and Gentlemen were dedicated to 
slaughter, or if not (which worse is) to slauerie. O my Lords, 
when I call to minde my cruelties in Lycaonia, my vsurpiog 35 
in Getulia, my oppression in Sola : then do I finde neither merdes 
in my conquests, nor colour for my warres, nor measure in my taxes. 
I haue written my lawes in blood, and made my Gods of golde ; 
I haue caused the mothers wombes to bee their childrens tombes, 
cradles to swimme in blood like boates, and the temples of the 30 
Gods a stewes for strumpets. Haue not I made the sea to groane 
vnder the number of my ships : and haue they not perished, that 
there was not two left to make a number? Haue I not thrust my 
subiects into a Camp, like oxen into a Cart ; whom hauing made 
slaues by vniust warres, I vse now as slaues for all warres? Haue 35 
not I entised the subiects of my neighbor Princes to destroy their 
natural Kings? like moaths that eate the cloth in which they were 
bred, like vipers that gnawe the bowels of which they were borne, 
and like woorm^ that consume the wood in which they were 
ingendred? To what kingdome haue not I pretended clayme? 8840 
though I had been by the Gods created heire apparant to the world, 
making euerie trifle a title; and all the territories about me, 
traitour^ to me. Why did I wish that all might bee gold I toucht, 

8 i|Uo] aU DU, 10 East so all thy] my Dil 14 feet Dih 

27 kingdoms b^crt Midas DU. ao horses DU. 37 dothes DiL 

i] MIDAS 131 

but that I thought all mens hearts would bee touched with gold, 

45 that what pollicie could not compasse, nor prowes, gold might haue 
commaunded, and conquered? A bridge of gold did I mean to 
make in that Iland where all my nauie could not make a breach. 
Those Ilandes did I long to touch, that I might tume them to 
gold, and my selfe to glorie. But vnhappie Mydas^ who by the 

50 same meanes perisheth himself, that he thought to conquere others : 
being now become a shame to the world, a scome to that petie 
Prince, and to thy self a consumption. A petie Prince, Mydas^ no, 
a Prince protected by the Gods, by Nature, by his own vertue, and 
his Subiects obedience. Haue not all treasons beene discouered by 

55 miracle, not counsell ? that doo the Gods chalenge. Is not the 
Countrie walled with huge wanes? that dooth Nature claime. Is 
hee not through the whole world a wonder, for wisdome and temper- 
ance? that is his owne strength. Doe not all his Subiects (like ^ ^ 
Bees) swarme to preserue the King of Bees? that their loyaltie 

60 mainteineth. My Lords, I faint both for lack of food, & want of 
grace. I will to the riuer, where if I be rid of this intoUerable disease 
of gold, I will next shake off that vntemperat desire of gouemment, 
and measure my Territories, pot by the greatnesse of my minde, but 
the right of my Succession. 

65 Mar. I am not a little sorrie, that because all that your Highnesse 
toucheth turneth to pure golde, therefore all your Princely affections 
should be conuerted to drosse. Doeth your Maiestie b^in to melt 
your owne Crowne, that should make it with other Monarchies 
massie? B^in you to make incloasure of your minde, and to 

70 debate of inheritance, when the sworde proclaimes you conqueror? 
If your Highnes heart be not of kingdome proofe, euery pelting 
Prince will batter it. Though you lose this garish golde, let your 
minde be still of Steele, and let the sharpest sword decide the right 
of Scepters. 

75 Mid, Euerie little king is a king, and the title consisteth not in 
the compasse of grounde, but in the right of inheritaqce. 
Mar, Are not conquests good titles ? 
Mid. Conquests are great thefts. 
Mar. If your Highnesse would be aduised by mee, then would 

80 I rob for kingdomes, and if I obteyned, fain woulde I see him that 
durste call the Cbnquerour a theefe. 

66 and before i^atxtUatt M eds, F, 71 <Aom, Dii, 7 a loie] use F, 

this om, Dil, 

K 2 


132 MIDAS [act iii^ sc. t 

. Mid. Martins^ thy councell hath shed as much bloud as would 
make another sea. Valor I cannot call it, and barbarousnesse is 
a worde too milde. Come Mellacrites^ let vs goe, and come you 
EristuSy that if I obteine mercie of BacchuSy wee may offer Sacrifice 85 
to Bacchus. MarHus^ if you be not disposed to goe, dispose as you 
will of your selfe. 

Mar. I will humbly attend on your Highnesse, as still hoping to 
faaue my hearts desire, and you your height of honor. Exeunt 

SCiE. 2. — {The same,} 
Licio, Petulus, Dello, Motto. 

{Enter Licio and Petulus.) 

/V/. A H Ziao, a bots on the Barbar ! euer since I cosened him 
x\. of the golden beard I haue had the toothach. 

Zicio. I think MoUo hath poysoned thy gummes. 

Pe/. It is a deadlie paine. 

Zicio, I knew a dog run mad with it 5 

Pe/. 1 beleeue it Ziao^ and thereof it is that they cal it a dogged 
paine. Thou knowest I haue tried all old womens medicins, and 
cunning mens charms, but interim my teeth ake. 

Enter Dello the barbers boy, 

Dello (aside), I am glad I haue heard the wags, to be quittance 
for ouer-hearing vs. We wil take the vantage, they shall finde vs 10 
quick Barbers. He tel Motto my master, and then we will hau6 
Quid pro quOy a tooth for a beard. Exit. 

Pet. LiciOy to make me merrie I pray thee go forward with the 
description of thy mistres : thou must beginne how at the paps. 

Licio, Indeed {Petulus) a good beginning for thee, for thou canst 15 
eat pappe now, because thou canst bite nothing els. But I haue not 
mind on those matters. If the king lose his golden wish, wee 
shall haue but a brasen Court ; — but what became of the beard; 
Petulus ? 

Pet. I haue pawnd it, for I durst not coyn it. ao 

Licio, What doest thou pay for the pawning ? 

Pet. Twelue pence in the pound for the moneth. 

s. D. Enter Dkllo ... . boy Q Bl. F. : Dello enters behind them DU. 16 

not] no Dil. 

«c ii] MIDAS 13.3 

Udo. What for the herbage ? 
Pet It is not at herbage. 
25 IaHo. Yes Fetulus^ if it be a beard it must be at herbadge, for 
a beard is a badge of haire ; and a badge of haire, hairbadge. 


J .'• . \. 

Enter Motto with Dello. 

Motto. DellOy thou knowest Mydas toucht his beard, and twas 

DeUo. Well 
30 Motto. That the Pages cosend me of it. 

Dello. Noh'e. 

Motto. That I must be reuenged. 

Dello. In good time. 

Motto. Thou knowest I haue taught thee the knacking of the 
35 hands, the tickling on a mans haires, like the tuning of a Cittern. 

Dello. True. 

Motto. Besides, I instructed thee in the phrases of our eloquent 
occupation, as 'how sir will you be trimmed? wil you haue your ^ 

beard like a spade, or a bodkin ? a penthouse on your vpper lip, or ^ ' 
40 an allie on your chin ? a lowe curie on your head like a Bull, or 
dangling lock like a spaniel ? your mustachoes sharp at the endes, 
like shomakers aules, or hanging down to your mouth like Goates 
flakes ? your loue-locks wreathed with a silken twist, or shaggie to fal 
on your shoulders ? ' 
45 Dello. I confesse you haue taught me TulUe de oratore^ the very 
art of trimming. 

Motto. Wei for all this I desire no more at thy hands, than to 
keep secrete the reuenge I haue prepared for the Pages. 

Dello. O sir, you know I am a Barber, and cannot tittle tattle, 
50 I am one of those whose tongues are swelde with silence. 

Motto. Indeed thou shouldst be no blab, because a barber, there- 
fore be secret. — (^Louder.) Was it not a good cure DellOy to ease the 
toothach and neuer touch the tooth ? 

Dello. O master, he that is your patient for the toothach, I warrant 
55 is patient of all aches. 

Motto. I did but rub his gummes, and presentlie the rewme 

IJcio. Deus boney is that worde come into the Barbers bason ? 

38-44 ' how . . . shoulders?' itrv. commas first F. 56 rhenme Bl. mods. 

134 MIDAS [ACT in 

Dello. I sir and why not? My master Is a Barber and a Sui^eon. 

Licio. In good time. 60 

Pet O MottOy I am almost dead with the toothach, al my gummes 
are swollen, and my teeth stande in my head like thornes. 

Motto. It may be that it is only the breding of a beard, and being 
the first beard, you shall haue a hard trauel. 

Pet. Old foole, doest thou thinke haires will breede in my teeth ? 65 

Motto. As likelie sir, for any thing I know, as on your chinne. 

Pet. O teeth ! 6 torments ! — 6 torments ! 6 teeth ! 

Motto {aside to his boy). May I but touch them Dello^ He teach 
his tong to tel a tale, what villenie it is to cosen one of a bearde, but 
stand not thou nigh, for it is ods when he spits, but that all his teeth 70 
flie in thy face. 

Lido. QooA Motto geue some ease, for at thy comming in, I ouer- 
heard of a cure thou hadst done. 

Pet. My teeth ! I wil not haue this paine, thats certain ! 

Motto. I, so did you ouer-heare me, when you cosened me of 75 
a beard : but I foiget alL 

Deilo. My master is mild and mercifuU : and mercifull, because 
a Barber, for when he hath the throat at commaund, you know hee 
taketh reuenge but on a siUie haire. 

Motto. How now Petulus^ do they still ake ? 80 

Pet. \ Motto. 

Motto. Let me rub your gummes with this leafe. 

Pet. Doe Motto^ and for thy labor I wil requite thee. {Under 
pretence of easing Motto hurts him.) Out rascal ! what hast thou 
done ? all my nether teeth are lose, and wag like the keyes of a paire 85 
of virginals. 

Dello. O sir, if you wil, I will sing to them, your mouth beeing 
the instrument 

/V/. Doe Dello. 

Dello. Out, villen 1 thou bitest I cannot tune these virginal keyes. 90 

Pet. They were the lackes aboue, the keyes beneath were easie. 

DeUo. A bots on your lacks and lawes too ! 

Lido. They were virginalls of your masters making. 

Pet. O my teeth ! good Motto what wil ease my pain ? 

Motto. Nothing in the world, but to let me lay a golden beard to 95 
your chinne. 

64 travail DiL 68 [aside &c] DiL suppl. (aside) s. D. [Under . . . hurts 
him.] Motto robs hi^ gams twjj^r^/W. 

ii] MIDAS I3i 

Fet. It is at plwiie. 

Motto. You are like to fetch it out with your teeth, or goe without 
your teeth. 
ICO Pttn Motto withdraw thy selfe, it may be thou shalt drawe my 
teeth ; attend my resolution. ( Motto and Dello retire, ) A doubt* 
full dispute, whether I were best to loose my golden beard, or my 
bone tooth? Helpe me Lycio to determine. 

Ucio. Your teeth ake FetuluSy your beard doth not. 
^05 Pet. I but LyciOy if I part from my beard, my heart will ake. 

Licio. If your tooth be hollow it must be stopt, or puld out ; and 
stop it the Barbar wil not, without the beard. 

Pet, My heart is hollow too, and nothing can stop it but gold. 

Licio. Thou canst not eate meate without teeth, 
no Pet. Nor buy it without money. 

Licio. Thou maist get more gold ; if thou loose these, more teeth 
thou canst not. 

Pet. I but the golden beard will last me ten yeres in porredge, and 
then to what vse are teeth ? 
115 Licio. If thou want teeth, thy toung will catch cold. 

Pet. Tis true, and if I lacke money my whole bodie may go naked. 
But LyciOy let the Barbar haue his beard, I will haue a deuice (by 
thy helpe) to get it againe, & a cousenage beyond that, maugre his 
1 30 Licio. Thats the best way, both to ease thy paines, and trie 
our wits. 

Pet. Barber, eleuen of my teeth haue gone on a lury, to trie 
whether the beard bee thine, they haue chosen my tongue for 
the foreman, which cryeth, guiltie. 
135 Motto. Guilded, nay boy, al my beard was gold. It was not 
guilt, I wil not be so ouer-matcht. 

Dello. You cannot pose my master in a beard. Come to his 
house you shall sit vpon twentie, all his cushions are stuft with 
130 Licio. Let him goe home with thee, ease him, and thou shalt 
haue thy beard. 

Motto. I am content, but I wil haue the beard in my hand to 
be sure. 

Pet, And I thy finger in my mouth to be sure of ease. 
135 Motto. Agreed. 

s. D. [Motto . . . retire] /rr/ in Dil. : om. F. 120 to before try Bl. F. 


136 MIDAS [ACTiir 

Pet Dello^ sing a song to the tune of my te^ do ake. 

Delia. 1 wiU. 

The Song. 

Pet^ O ^^ Teeth! deare Barber ease me, 

^"^ Tongue tell mee, why my Teeth disease mee, 
O ! what will rid me of this paine? 140 

Motto. Some Pellitory fetcht from Spaine. 
Ucio. Take Masticke else. 
Pet» Mastick's a patch. 

Masticke does many a fooles face catch. 
^ If suche a paine should breed the Home, 

Twere happy to be Cuckolds borne. 145 

Should Beards with such an ach begin, 
Each Boy to th' bone would scrub his chin. 
Lido. His Teeth now ake not 
Motto. Caper then, 

And cry vp checkerd-apron men: 

There is no Trade but shaues, 150 

For, Barbers are trimme Knaues, 
Some are in shauing so profound, 

By trickes they shaue a Kingdome round. 


SCiB, 3. — {TAe same,} 

{Enter} Sophronia, C^elia, Camilla, Amerula Suauia. 

Sop A. TAdies, here must we attend the happy return of my 
J ^ father, but in the mean season what pastime shal 
we vse to passe the time ? I wil agree to any, so it be not to talke 
of loue. 

Sua. Then sleepe is the best exercise. 5 

SopA, Why Suauia^ are you so light, that you must chat of loue ; 
or so heauie, that you must needes sleepe ? Penelope in the absence 
of her Lord beguyled the daies with spinning. 

Sua. Indeed she spun a faire threed, if it were to make a string 
to the bow wherin she drew her woers. 10 

Soph. Why Suauia, it was a bow which she knew to be aboue 
their strength, and therein she shewde her wit. 

Sua. Qui latus arguerit corneus arcus erat: it was made of home 
madam, and therin she shewde her meaning. 

Soph. Why, doest thou not think she was chast ? 15 

S.D. The soDg 50 Qf without giving the wordsy which first appear in Bl. 12 
their] thy QBi.P.i her Dii. 13 aignerit so all 

Ill] MIDAS 137 

Sua. Yes, of all her woers. 

SopA, . To talke with thee is to lose time, not well to spend it : how 
say you, Amerula^ what shal we do ? 

Ame. Tel tales. 
30 Soph. What say you Calia f 

Cal Sing. ^ 

SopA. What think you Camilla t 

Cam. Daunce. ' 

SopA. You see Suauia^ that there are other things to keep one 
35 from idlenes, besides loue : nay that there is nothing to make i^ 
idlenes, but loue. 

Sua. Well, let mee stande by and feede mine owne thoughts 
with sweetenes, whilest they iil your eyes and eares with songs and 
30 Soph. Amerula, begin thy tale. 

Ame. There dwelt somtiroes in Phrygia, a Lady very fair, but 
passing froward, as much maruelled at for beutie, as for peeuishnes 
misliked. Hie she was in the instep, but short in the heele ; strait \ | 5 
laced, but loose bodied. It came to passe, that a gentleman, as 
35 yong in wit as yeres, and in yeres a very boy, chanced to glaunce 
his eies on her, & there were they dazeled on her beautie, as 
larkes that are caught in the Sunne with the glittering of a glasse. 
In her faire lookes were his thoughts intangled, like the birdes of 
Canarie, that fal into a silken net Dote he did without measure, 
40 and die he must without her loue. She on the other side, as one 
that knew her good, began to looke askaunce, yet felt the passions of 
loue eating into her heart, though shee dissembled them with her eyes. 

Sua. Ha, ha, he ! 

Soph. Why laughest thou ? 
^5 Sua. To see you (Madame) so tame as to be brought to heare 
a tale of loue, that before were so wylde you would not come to 
the name ; and that Amerula could deuise how to spend the time 
with a tale, onely that she might not talke of loue, and now to make 
loue onely her tale. 
50 Soph. Indeed I was ouershot in iudgement, and she in dis- 
cretion. Amerula^ another tale or none, this is too louely. 

Sua. Nay let me heare anie woman tell a tale of x lines long 
without it tend to loue, & I wil be bound neuer to come at the 

3a forward Z)f7. 36 on'] with i9i7. ^i ht old eds. Dil. i ha F. 52 

X Q : tenne BL mods. 

138 MIDAS [act lit 

Court. And you Camilla that would fain trip on your petitoes; 
can you perswade me you take delight to dance, & not loue ? or 55 
you that cannot rule your feet, can guid your affections, hauing the 
one as vnstaid as the other vnsteadie : dauncing is loue sauce, there- 
fore I dare be so sawcie, as if you loue to daunce, to say you daunce 
'^ for loue. But Calia she will sing, whose voice if it should vtter her 

thoughts, would make the tune of a hart out of tune* She that hath 60 
crochets in her head, hath also loue conceipts. I dare sweare she 
harpeth not oneiy on plaine song : & before you {Sqphronia) none of 
them all vse plaine dealing ; but because they see you so curious 
they frame themselues counterfet. For my selfe, as I knowe honest 
loue to bee a thing inseperable from our sex, so doo I thinke it 65 
most allowable in the Court ; vnlesse we would haue all our thoughts 
made of Church-worke, and so carrie a holie face, and a hollow hart* 

Soph, Ladies, how like you Suauia in her louing vaine ? 

Ccel. Wee are content at this time to sooth her in her vanitie. 

Ame. Shee casts all our mindes in the mould of her owne head, 70 
and yet erreth as farre from our meanings, as she doth from her 
owne modestie. 

Sua. Amerula^ if you were not bitter, your name had been ill 
bestowed: but I think it as lawfull in the Court to bee counted 
louing and chast, as you in the Temple to seeme religious, and be 75 

Cam. I meruaile you will reply ante more Amerula^ her toung is 
so nimble it will neuer lye still. 

Sua. The liker thy feete Camilla^ which were taught not to stand 
still 80 

Soph. So, no more Ladies : let our comming to sport not toume 
to spight Loue thou Suauia, if thou thinke it sweete : sing thou 
Calia for thine owne content: tell thou tales, and daunce thou 
Camilla: and so euerie one vsing hir own delight, shall haue no 
cause to be discontent But here cdmeth Martius & the rest. 85 

{Enter Martius, Mellacrites, and others,^ 

What newes Martius of my Soueraigne and Father Mydas f 
Mar. Madam, he no sooner bathed his lims in the riuer, but it 
tumde to a golden stream, the sands to fine gold, and all to gold 

54 CtmilU DU. : C«IU Q BL F. Cf. 11. 23, 79 {pp. 137, 138) 55 you*] 

to previous eds, from subsequent to 59 Cselia Dil. : Camilla Q Bi, F. Cf. 

It, ai, 8a {fp. 137, 138) her om. Dil. s. D. [Enter Martius . . • 

othen] Dtlh amy 

^c m] MIDAS t39 

that was cast into the water. Mydas dismaid at the sodaine altera* 

5^ tion, assaied againe to touch a stone, but he could not alter the 
tiature of the stone. Then went we with him to the Temple of 
Bacchus^ where we offred a launce wreathed about with yuie, 
Garlands of ripe grapes, and skinnes of Wolues and Panthers, and 
a great standing cup of the water, which so lately was turnd to 

95 golde. Bacchus accepted our giftes, commaunding Mydas to honour 
the Gods, and also in wishing to bee as wise, as he meant to haue 
made him fortunate. 

SapJu Happie Sophronia, thou hast liued to heare these newes, 
and happie Mydas^ if thou Hue better to gouern thy fortune. But 

loo what is become of our king ? 

MeL Mydas ouerioyed with this good fortune, determined to vse 
some solace in the woods ; where, by chaunce we roused a great 
bore : he eager of the sport, outrid vs ; and wee thinking hee had 
been come to his Pallace some other way, came our selues the next 

X05 way. If he be not returned, he cannot be long : we haue also lost 
our pages, which we thinke are with him. 

Soph, The Gods shield him from all harmes : the woods are full 
of Tygers, and he of courage : wilde beasts make no difference be* 
tween a king & a clowne ; nor hunters in the heat of their pastime, 

1x0 feare no more the iiersnes of the boare, th£ the fearfulnes of the 
bare. But I hope well, let vs in to see all well. Exeunt 


SCiENA 1. — {Glade in a Forest on Mount Thio/us.} 
Apollo. Pan. Mydas. Nymphes. 

{£nter Apollo, Pan, Erato and Nymphs.) 

Apollo, 13^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ contend with Apollo^ who tunes the heauens, 
XT and makes them all hang by harmony ? Orpheus that 
caused trees to moue with the sweetnes of his harp, offreth yerely 
homage to my lute: so doth Arion^ that brought Dolphins to his 
5 sugred notes; and Amphion^ that by musicke reard the walls of 
Thebes. Onely Pan with his harsh whistle (which makes beasts 

98 these] this Dil, 103 bore:] bore, Q Bl. F. ill I <wf. BL F. 

X49 MIDAS (act IV 

shake for fear^ not men dance for ioy) seekes to compare with 

Pan, Pan is a God^ Apollo i$ no more. Comparisons cannot 
bee odious, where the Dieties are equall. This pipe (my sweete lo 
pipe) was once a Nymph, a faire Nymph; once my louely Mis- 
tres, now my heauenly musicke. Tell mee Apollo^ is there anie 
instrument so sweete to play on as ones Mistres? Had thy lute 
been of lawrell, and the strings of Daphnes haire, thy tunes might 
haue beene compared to my noates : for then Daphne would haue 15 
added to thy stroake sweetnes, & to thy thoughts melodic. 

Apollo. Doth Pan talke of the passions of loue? of the passions 
of deuine loue? O, how that word Daphne wounds Apollo^ pro- 
nounced by the barbrous mouth of Pan. I feare his breath will 
blaste the faire Greene, if I dazel not his eyes, that he may not 20 
behold it. Thy pipe a Nimph? some hag rather, banting these 
shady groues, and desiring not thy loue, but the fellowship of such 
a monster. What God is Pan but the god of beastes, of woods, and 
hilles ? excluded from heauen, and in earth not honoured. Breake 
/ thy pipe, or with my sweet lute will I breake thy heart. Let not 25 
^^ loue enter into those sauage lips, a word for loue, for Apollo, for 
the heauenlie gods, whose thoughts are gods, & Gods are all loue. 

Pan. Apollo, I tolde thee before that Pan was a God, I tell 
thee now againe, as great a god as Apollo, I had almost said a 
greater : and because thou shalt know I care not to tel my thoghts, 30 
I say a greater. Pan feeles the passions of loue deeply engrauen in 
his heart, with as faire Nimphs, with as great fortune, as Apollo, as 
Neptune, as loue ; and better than Pah can none describe loue. 
Not Apollo, not Neptune, not loue I My Temple is in Arcadie, 
where they bume continuall flames to Pan. In Arcadie is mine 35 
Oracle, where Erato the Nymphe geeueth aunsweres for Pan. In 
Arcadie the place of Loue, is the honour of Pan, I but I am 
God of hilles. So I am, Apollo I and that of Hilles so high, as 
I can prie into the iugling of the highest Gods. Of woods ! So 
I am Apollo I of woods so thicke, that thou with thy beames canst 40 
not pierce them. I knew Apolloes prying, I knewe mine owne 
iealouzie. Sunne and shadow cousen one another. Be thou Sun 
still, the shadow is fast at thy heeles Apollo. I as neere to thy 
loue, as thou to mine. A Carter with his whistle & his whip in 

7 shake om, Bl. 31 haunting Dil. 41 Apollo Dil. 43 I] Ah, 

DiL perk, by misprint for Ay, 

sc. i] MIDAS t4X 

45 true eare^ mooues as much as Fhcsbus with his fierie chariot, and 
winged horses. Loue-leaues are as wel for countrie porridge, as 
heauenly nectar, Loue made Jupiter a goose, and Neptune a swine, V ". - '-j 
and both for loue of an earthlie mistresse. What hath made Pan^ 
or any God on earth (for gods on earth can change their shapes) 

50 tume themselues for an heauenly Goddesse ? Beleeue me Apollo^ 
our groues are pleasanter than your heauens, our Milk-maides than 
your Goddesses, our rude ditties to a pipe than your sonnets to a 
lute. Heere is flat faith amo amas; where you crie, 6 vtinam ama- 
rent vel non amassem. I let passe (Apoilo) thy hard words, as 

55 calling Fan monster ; which is as much, as to call all monsters : 
for Fan is all, Apolio but one. But touch thy strings, and let these 
Nymphs decyde. 

Apollo, Those Nymphes shall decide, vnlesse thy rude speach haue 
made them deafe : as for anie other aunswere to Fan^ take this, that 

60 it becommeth not Apollo to aunswere Fan. Fan is all, and all is 
Fan; thou art Fan and all, all Fan and tinkerly. But to this 
mtisick, wherin all thy shame shall be scene, and all my skill. 

Enter Mydas. 

Mid. In the chase, I lost all my companie, and missed the game 
toa I thinke Mydas shall in all things be vnfortunate. 
65 Apollo. What is he that talketh ? 

Mid, Mydas the vnfortunate King of Phrygia. 
Apollo. To be a King is next being to a God. Thy fortune is not 
bad: what is thy follie? 
Mid. To abuse a God. 
70 Apollo, An vngratefuU part of a King. But, Mydas^ seeing by 
chaunce thou art come, or sent by some God of purpose ; none can 
in the earth better iudge of Gods, than Kings. Sit downe with these 
Nymphes. I am Apollo^ this Fan^ both Gods. We contend for 
souereigntie in Musicke. Seeing it happens in earth, we must be 
75 iudged of those on earth ; in which there are none more worthie 
than Kings and Nymphes. Therefore giue eare, that thy iudgement 
erre not 

Mid. If Gods you be, althogh I dare wish nothing of Gods, being 
so deeply wounded with wishing; yet let my iudgement preuaile 
80 before these Nymphes, if we agree not, because I am a King. 

45 ears Dil. 47 goose] swan Dtl. 58 Those] These F. 67 

being to oideds. : to being Dil. F. 75 there] they F. 

142 MIDAS [act IV 

Pan, There must be no condition, but iudge Afydas^ and iudge ' 
Apollo. Then thus I begin both my song and my play. 

A SONG of Daphne to the Lute. 

Apollo. TVTY Daphne's Haire is twisted Gold, 

Bright starres a-piece her Eyes doe hold, S5 

My Daphnes Brow inthrones the Graces, 
My Daphne* s Beauty staines all Faces, 
On Daphnes Cheeke grow Rose and Cherry, 
On Daphnes Lip a sweeter Berry, 

Daphnes snowy Hand but touch*d does melt, 9Q 

And then no heauenlier Warmth is felt, 
My Daphnes voice tunes all the Spheres, 
My Daphnes Musick charmes all Eares, 
Fond am I thus to sing her prayse; 
These glories now are turned to Bayes. 9$ 

Jtympk Erato. O diuine Apollo^ 6 sweete consent ! 

Tha. If the God of Musicke should not be aboue our reach, who 
should ? 

Mid. I like it not. 

Pan. Now let roe tune my pipes. I cannot pipe & sing, thats the 100 
ods in the instrument, not the art : but I will pipe and then sing ; 
and then iudge both of the art and instrument. 

• If e pipes f and then sings. 


Pan. pAn^s Syrinx was a Girle indeed, 

Though now shee's tum*d into a Reed, 
From that deare Reed Pafis Pipe does come, 105 

A Pipe that strikes Apollo dumbe; 
Nor Flute, nor Lute, nor Gitteme can 
So chant it, as the Pipe of Pan; 
Cross-gartred Swaines, & Dairie girles. 
With faces smug, and round as Pearles, no 

When Pans shrill Pipe begins. to play. 
With dancing weare out Night and Day: 
The Bag-pipes Drone his Hum layes by. 
When Pan sounds vp his Minstrelsie, 

s. D. A song • • • Lute to Q, btU vfitkout giving th$ words, which first appear in 
Bl. 00 Daphne's snowy] My Daphne's DiL metr. gra. 97 Tha. JHl, : 

ThU QBi. F^ S. D. He pipes, and then sings so Q Bl. but Blfnmt first gives 

the words * 

sci] MIDAS 143 

115 His Minstrelsie! O Base! This Quill 

Which at my mouth with winde I fill, 
Puts me in minde, though Her I misse. 
That still my Syrinx lips I kisse. 

. Apollo. Hast thou done Pan t 
1 30 Pan. I, and done well, as I thinke, 
. Apollo,. Now Nymphes, what say you? 

Erato. Wee all say that Apollo hath shewed himselfe both 

a. God, and of musicke the God; Pan himselfe a rude Satyre, 

neither keeping measure, nor time ; his piping as farre out of tune, 

X35 as his bodie out of forme. To thee diuine Apollo^ wee giue the 

prize and reuerence. 

Apollo. But what saies Mydas f 

Mid. Mee thinkes theres more sweetnesse in the pipe of Pan^ than 

Apolloes lute ; I brooke not that nice tickling of strings, that contents 

X30 mee that makes one start. Wbat a shrilnes came into mine eares 

out of that pipe, and what a goodly noise it made ! Apollo^ I must 

needes iudge that Pan deserueth most praise. 

Pan. Blessed be Mydas^ worthie to be a Cod : these girles, whose 
eares doo but itch with daintines, geue the verdit without weying the 
X35 virtue ; they haue been brought vp in chambers with soft musicke, 
not where I make the woods ring with my pipe, Mydas. 

Apollo. Wretched, vnworthie to bee a King, thou shalt know what 
it is to displease Apollo. I will leaue thee but the two last letters 
of thy name, to be thy whole name ; which if thou canst not gesse, 
140 touch thine eares, they shall tell thee. 

Mid. What hast thou done Apollo f the eares of an Asse vpon the 
head of a King ? 

Apollo. And well worthier when the dulnes of an asse is in the 
eares of a King. 
X45 Mid. Helpe Pan I or Mydas perisheth. 

Pan. I cannot vndoo what Apollo hath done, nor giue thee anie 
amends, vnlesse to those eares thou wilt haue added these homes. 

1 Nymph. It were verie well, that it might bee hard to iudge 
whether he were more Ox or Asse. 

J 50 Apollo, Farewell i!^//aj. {Exit.) 

Pan. Mydas farewell. {Exit} 

2 Nymph. I warrant they bee daintie eares, nothing can pleas^ 
them but Pans pipe. 

134 gene Q : giue Bl. F. : gave Dil^ 

144 MIDAS [act iv 

Erato. He hath the aduantage of all eares, except the mouse ; 
for els theres none so sharpe of hearing, as the Asse. Farewell 155 

2 Nymph. Mydas farewell. 

3 Nymph. Farewell Mydas. Exeunt < Erato and Nymphs). 
Mid. Ah Mydas^ why was not thy whole bodie metamorphosed, 

that there might haue been no parte left of Mydas t Where shall 160 
I shrowd this shame? or how may I bee restored to mine olde 
shape ? Apollo is angrie : blame not Apollo^ whom being God of 
musick thou didst both dislike and dishonour ; preferring the bar* 
barous noyse of Pans pipe, before the sweete melodie of ApoUoes 
lute. If I retume to Phrygia, I shall bee pointed at ; if Hue in i<^5 
these woods, sauage beasts must be my cOpanions : & what other 
companions should Mydas hope for than beasts, being of all beasts 
himselfe the dullest? Had it not bin better for thee to haue 
perished by a golden death, than now to lead a beastly life? Vn- 
fortunat in thy wish, vnwise in thy iudgmSt ; first a golden foole, 170 
now a leaden asse. What wil they say in Lesbos (if happely these 
newes come to Lesbos) ? If they come Mydas 1 yes, report flies as 
swift as thoghts, gathering wings in the aire, & dubling rumors by 
her owne rutming, insomuch as hauing here the eares of an asse, 
it wil there be told, all my haires are asses eares. Then will this bee 175 
the by-word ; Is Mydas that sought to bee Monarch of the world, 
become the mock of the world? are his gold^^ mynes tumd into 
water, as free for euery one that wil fetch, as for himself, that 
possessed th{^ by wish? Ah poore Mydas! are his conceipts 
become blockish, his counsells vnfortunate, his iudgements vnskil- i8a 
full ? Ah foolish Mydas ! a iust reward, for thy pride to wexe poore, 
for thy ouerweening to wexe dull, for thy ambition to wexe humble, 
for thy crueltie to say, Sis^ miser semper^ nee sis miserabiUs vlU^ 
But I must seeke to couer my shame by arte, least beeing once 
discouered to these pettie Kings of Mysia, Pisidia and Galatia, they 185 
all ioyne to adde to mine Asses eares, of all the beasts the dullest, 
a sheepes heart, of all the beasts the fearfullest : and so cast lots for 
those Kingdomes, that I haue won with so manie Hues, & kept with 
so manie enuies. Exit. 

164 melolodie Q 165 I before Hue Dil, F. 171 happily Bl. F. : 

haply Dil. these] this DU. 

sen] MIDAS 145 

ScJE, 2. — {A reedy place,) 

Enter 5, shepheards ; Menalcas, Coryn, Celthus, 

Driapon, Amyntas. 

Idenal. T Muse what the Nymphs ment, that so sang in the groues, 
X Mydas of Phrygia hath Asses eares. 
Cor, I maruel not, for one of them plainly told me he had Asses 

5 CeL I, but it is not safe to say it : he is a great King, & his hands 
are longer than his eares: therefore for vs that keep sheepe, it is 
wisedome enough to tell sheepe. 

Drya. Tis true, yet since Mydas grew so mischeuous, as to blurre 
his diademe with blood, which should glister with nothing but pittie ; 

10 and so miserable, that hee made gold his god, that was framde 
to be his slaue, manie broad speeches haue flowen abroad : in his 
owne Countrey they sticke not to call him T3rrant, and else where 
vsurper. They flatly say, that he eateth into other dominions, as the 
sea doth into the land, not knowing, that in swallowing a poore Iland 

15 as big as Lesbos, he may cast vp three territories thrice as big as 
Phrygia : for what the sea winneth in the marshe, it looseth in the 

Amynt, Take me with you, but speak softlie, for these reedes may 
haue eares, and heare vs. 

30 MenaL Suppose they haue, yet they may be without tongues, to 
bewray vs. 

Cor. Nay, let them haue tongues too, wee haue eyes to see that 
they haue none, and therfore if they heare, & speak, they know not 
from whence it comes. 

35 Amynt, Well, then this I say, when a Lion doeth so much . 
degenerat from Princely kind, that he wil borow of the beasts, 
I say he is no Lion, but a monster; peec'd with the craflines of 
the fox, the crueltie of the tyger, the rauening of the woolfe, the 
dissembling of Hyena, he is worthie also to haue the eares of an 

30 asse. 

MenaL He seekes to conquere Lesbos, and like a foolish game- ^^ 
ster, hauing a bagful! of his owne, ventures it all to winne a groat 
of another. 

Cor, Hee that fishes for Lesbos, muste haue such a woodden net, 

s. D. Draipon Bl, 37 craftinesses F, 29 the before Hyena DU, F. {see 




146 MIDAS [act iv 

as all the trees in Phrygia wil not senie to make the cod, nor all the 35 
woods in Pisidia prouide the corks. 

Drya. Nay, he meanes to angle for it with an hook of gold and 
a bait of gold, and so to strike the fish with a pleasing bait, that wil 
slide out of an open net. 

Amy fit Tush ! tush ! those Ilanders are too subtil to nibble at 40 
craft, and too riche to swallowe treasure : if that be his hope, he 
may as wel diue to the bottome of the sea, and bring vp an Anchor 
of a thousand weight, as plod with his gold to corrupt a people so 
wise. And besides, a Nation (as I haue heard) so valiant, that are 
redier to strike than ward. 45 

Cd. More than al this Amintas (though we dare not so much as 
mutter it), their king is such a one as dazeleth the cleerest eyes with 
Maiestie, daunteth the valiantest hearts with courage, and for vertue 
filleth all the world with wonder. If beautie goe beyond sight, 
confidence aboue valour, and vertue exceed miracle, what is it to 50 
be thought, but that Mydas goeth to vndermine that by the sim- 
plicitie of man, that is fastened to a rock, by the prouidence of 
the gods. 

MencU. We poore commons (who tasting warre, are made to 
rellish nothing but taxes) can do nothing but grieue, to see things 55 
vnlawfiil practised, to obtein things impossible. All his mines doe 
but glide his combe, to make it glister in the warres, and cut oures 
that are forced to follow him in his warres. 

Car, Well, that must be borne, not blam'd, that cannot be 
changed : for my part, if I may enioy the fleece of my sillie flock 6o 
with quietnes, I will neuer care three flocks for his ambition. 

Menal, Let this suffice, we may talke too much, and being ouer- 
heard, be all vndone. I am so iealous, that me thinks the very 
reedes bow downe, as though they listned to our talke : and soft ! 
I heare some comming, let vs in, and meet at a place more meet. 65 


SCiE, 3. — (^Th€ same,) 

(^Enter) Licio, Petulus, Minutius, Huntsman. 

Lido. T S not hunting a tedious occupation ? 

X -Pd. I and troublesome, for if you call a dog a dog, yoa 
are vndone. 

43 plod so all 

sc ni] MIDAS 147 

Hunts. You be both fooles ! and besides, base-minded : hunting 

5 is for kings, not peasants. Such as you are vnworthie to be hounds, 

much lesse huntsmen, that know not when a hound is fleet, faire 

flewde, and well hangd, being ignorant of the deepenesse of a 

houndes mouth, and the sweetnes. 

Min. Why I hope sir a curres mouth is no deeper than the sea, 
10 nor sweeter than a hony combe. 

Hunts, Prettie cockscombe I a hound wil swalow thee as- easilie, 
as a great pit a small pibble. 

Min^ Indeed hunting were a pleasant sport, but the dogges make 
such barking, that one cannot heare the hounds crie. 
15 Hunts. He make thee crie I If I catch thee in the forest thou 
shalt be leasht. 
Min. Whatsthat? 

Udo, Doest thou not vnderstand their language ? 
Min. Not I! 
20 Pet. Tis the best Calamance in the world; as easilie deciphered^ 
as the characters in a nutmeg. 
Min. I pray thee speake some. 
Pet. I will. 

Hunts. But speake in order or He pay you« 
35 Lido. To it Petulus. 

Pet. There was a boy leasht on the single, because when he was 
imbost, he tooke soyle. 
JJdo. Whatsthat? 

Pet. Why, a boy was beaten on the taile with a leathern thong, 
30 bicause when he fomde at the mouth with running, he went into 
the water. 

Hunts. This is worse than fustian ! mumme ! you were best ! 
Hunting is an honorable pastime, and for my part I had as leife hunt 
a deere in a parke, as court a Ladie in a chamber. 
35 Min. Geue meea pastie foraParke,and letmeeshakeoflfawhole 
kennel of teeth for hounds, then shalt thou see a notable champing, 
after that will I carouse a bouleof wine, and so in the stomack let the 
Venison take soyle. 

Lido. He hath laid the plot to be prudent : why tis pastie crust, 
40 eat enough and it will make you wise, an olde prouerb. 

16, 36 Iflshte Bl. F. 28 Licio] Min. F. 3a This is . . . fnsdan f assigned 
withcnt authority or comment as separate speech to Minutius F. 39 prndent ; 

DiL : prudent, Q Bl. F. 40 eat . . . wise] in inverted commas I*. More 

(orrectiy * why . . , wise* 

L a 


r48 MIDAS* [activ^ 

Pet, I, and eloquent, for you must tipple wine freely, 6* fcuundi 
caUces quem nonfrcere disertutn 1 

Hunts, Fecere dizardum! Leaue off these toyes, and let vs seek 
out Mydas^ whom we lost in the chase. 

Fet, He warrant hee hath by this started a couey of Bucks, or 45 
roused a scull of Phesants. 

Hunts, Treason to two braue sports, hauking & hunting, thou 
shouldest say, start a hare, rowse the deere, spring the partridge. 

Fet. He warrant that was deuised by some Country swad, that 
seeing a hare skip vp, which made him start, he presently said, he 50 
started the hare. 

Ucio. I, and some lubber lying besides a spring, & seeing a part- 
ridge come by, said he did spring the partridge. 

Hunts, Well, remember all this 1 

Fet, Remember all? nay then had we good memories, for there 55 
be more phrases than thou hast haires ! but let me see, I pray thee 
whats this about thy neck ? 

Hunts, A bugle. 

Fet, If it had stoode on thy head I should haue called it a home. 
Wei, tis hard to haue ones browes imbroidered with bugle. 6o 

Ucio. But canst thou blowe it ? 

Hunts. What els? 

Min. But not away. 

Fet, No, twil make Boreas out of breath, to blow his homes 
away. 65 

Ltcio, There was good blowing He warrant before they came 

Fet, Well, tis a shrowd blow. 

Hunts. Spare your windes in this, or He winde your neckes in 
a cord : but soft, I heard my masters blaste. 70 

Min, Some haue felt it I 

Hunts, Thy mother, when such a flyblow was buzd out! but 
I must be gone, I perceiue Mydas is come. Exit. 

Lido. Then let not vs tarrie, for now shal we shaue the Barbars 
house. The world will grow full of wyles seeing Mydas hath lost his 75 
golden wish. 

Min. I care not, my head shall dig deuises, and my tongue stampe 
them ; so as my mouth shall be a mynt, and my braynes a myne. 

56 haires so all 

68 shrewd DiL 

sc. hi] MIDAS 149 

Lido. Then help vs to cousen the Barbar. 
80 Mitu The Barbar shal know euerie haire of my chin to be as good 
as a choakpeare for his purse. (^Exeunt) 

SCiENA 4. — {The same jy 

* {Enter) Mellacrites. Martius. Eristus. 

Erist. T Maruell what MydcLS meaneth to bee so melancholy since 

X his hunting. 

MeL It is a good word in Mydas, otherwise I should tearme it in 

another blockishnes. I cannot tell whether it bee a sowernesse 

5 commonly incident to age, or a seuerenesse perticular to the Kings 

of Phrygia, or a suspition cleaning to great Estates ; but mee thinkes 

he seemeth so iealous of vs al, and becomes so ouerthwart to all 

others, that either I must coniecture his wits are not his owne, or his 

meaning verie hard to some. 

10 Mar. For my part, I neither care nor wonder, I see all his 
expeditions for warres are laid in water : for now when he should 
execute, he begins to consult ; and suffers the enemies to bid vs good 
morrowe at our owne doores, to whom wee long since might haue 
giuen the last Good night in their owne beds. Hee weareth (I know 

15 not whether for warmth or wantonnes) a great Tyara on his head, 

as though his head were not heauie enough, vnlesse hee loaded it / ^; < 
with great rolles : an attyre neuer vsed (that I could heare of) but of ^ >' 
old women, or pelting priestes. This will make Pisidia wanton, 
Lycaonia stiffe, all his Territories wauering; and hee that hath 

ao coutcht so manie Kingdomes in one Crowne, wil haue his Kingdome 
scattered into as manie Crownes as hee possesseth Countries. I will 
rouse him vp, and if his eares be not Asses eares, I will make them 
tingle. I respect not my life, I knowe it is my duetie, and certainly 
I dare sweare Warre is my profession. 

35 Erist Martius^ we will all ioyne : and though I haue been (as 
in Phrygia they tearme) a braue Courtier, that is, (as they expound 
it) a fine Louer ; yet will I set both aside, Loue and Courting, and 
followe Martius: for neuer shall it bee sayd, Bella gerant alij, semper 
Eristus amet. 

30 MeL And I {Martius) that honored gold for a god, and accounted 

30 coucht Bl, F, : coutcbed Dil. Kingdome] Kingdomct Bl. F. 


all other gods but lead, wil follow Martius^ and say ; Villus argentum 
est auro^ vlrtuHbus aurum. 

Mar. My Lords, I giue you thankes, and am glad : for there are 
no stouter soldiers in the world, than those that are made of louers, 
nor anie more liberall in wars^ than they that in peace haue beene 35 
couetous. Then doubt not, if courage and coyne can preuaile, but 
wee shall preuaile; & besides, nothing can preuaile but fortune. 
But here comes Sophronlay I wil first talk with her. 

Enter Sophronia, Camilia, Amerula. 

Madame, either our King hath no eares to heare, or no care to 
consider, both in what state we stand beeing his subiects^ and what 4^ 
danger he is in being our King. Dutie is not regarded, courage 
contemned ; altogether careles of vs, and his owne safetie. 

Soph* MartluSy I mislike not thy plaine dealing : but pittie my 
Fathers traunce; a traunce I must call that, where nature cannot 
moue, nor counsaile, nor musick, nor phisicke, nor daunger, nor death, 45 
nor all. But that which maketh me most both to sorrow and wonder, 
is that musick (a methridat for melancholy) should make him mad ; 
crying still, Una nam^ modo Pan <^ Apollo nocent. None hath 
accesse to him but Motto^ as thogh melancholy were to be shau'n 
with a razor, not cur'd with a medicin. But stay, what noise is this 50 
in those reedes ? 

MeL What sound is this ? who dares vtter that he heares ? 

Soph. I dare Mellacritesy the words are plaine, — Mydas the King 
hath asses eares. 

Cam. This is strange, and yet to be told the King. 55 

Soph. So dare I Camilla: for it concemeth me in dutie, & vs all 
in discretion. But soft, let vs hearken better. 

The Reedes. Mydas of Phrygia hath asses eares. 

Erist. This is monstrous, & either portends some mischiefe to 
the king, or vnto the state confusion. Mydas of Phrygia hath asses 60 
«ars ? It is vnpossible let vs with speed to the king to know his 
resolutiO, for to some oracle he must send. Til his maiesty be 
acquainted with this matter, wee dare not roote out the reedes ; 
himselfe must both heare the sound, and gesse at the reason. 

Soph. Vnfortunate MydaSy that beeing so great a king, there 65 
should out of the earth spring so great a shame. 

Mar, It may bee that his wishing for golde, being but drosse of 
the world, is by all the Gods accounted foolish, and so discouered 

saiv] AlIDAS 151 

out of the earth : for a King to thirst for golde in steede of honour, 
70 to preferre heapes of worldly coyne before triumphes in warlike 
Conquests, was in my minde no Princely minde. 

MeL Let vs not debate the cause, but seeke to preuent the snares ; 
for in my minde it foretelleth that which woundeth my minde. Let 
vs in. Exeunt. 


SCENA L — (^The reedy piace.y 

{Enter) Mydas. Sophronia. MellicRates. Martius. 

Mid. O Ophronia^ thou seest I am become a shame to the world 
O and a wonder. Mine eares glowe. Mine eares? Ah 
miserable Mydas I to haue such eares as make thy cheekes blush, 
thy head monstrous, and thy hart desperate ? Yet in blushing I am 
5 impudent, for I walke in the streetes ; in deformitie I seeme comely, Co <- 
for I haue left off my Tyara ; and my heart the more heauie it is for 
griefe, the more hope it concelueth of recouerie. 

Soph. Dread Soueraigne and louing Syre, there are nine dayes 

past, and therefore the wonder is past ; there are manie yeares to 

10 come, and therefore a remedie to bee hoped for. Though your 

eares be long, yet is there roome left on your head for a diademe : ^ ^. .. 
thogh they resemble the eares of the dullest beast, yet should they -> J -> 
not daunt the spirit of so great a King. The Gods dally with men, 
kings are no more : they disgrace kings, lest they shuld be thpght 
15 gods: sacrifice pleaseth them, so that if you know by the Oracle 
what God wrought it, you shall by humble submission, by that God 
be released. 

Mid. Sophronia^ I commend thy care and courage, but let me 
heare these reedes, that these lothsome eares may be glutted with 
ao the report, and that is as good as a remedie. 

The reedes. Mydas of Phrygia hath asses eares. 

Mid. Mydas of Phrygia hath asses eares ? So he hath, vnhappie 

Mydas. If these reedes sing my shame so lowde, wil men whisper 

it softly ? No, all the world alreadie rings of it : and as impossible 

25 it is to staye the rumor, as to catch the wind in a nette that bloweth 

in the aier; or to stop the wind of al mens mouths that breathe out 

73 my* om. Bl. F. 

IS a MIDAS [act v 

aier. t will to ApollOy whose Oracle must be my doome, and I fear 
me, my dishonor, because my doom was his, if kings may disgrace 
gods : and gods they disgrace, when they forget their dueties. 

MeL What saith Mydas t 30 

Mid. Nothing, but that ApoUo must determine al, or Mydas see 
ruine of al. To Apollo wil I offer an luory lute for his sweet 
harmonie, and berries of baies as blacke as ieat, for his loue 
Daphne^ pure simples for his physicke, and continuall incense for his 
prophecying. 35 

Mar, Apollo may discouer some odde riddle, but not geue the 
redresse; for yet did I neuer heare that his oracles were without 
doubtfulnes, nor his remedies without impossibilities. This super- 
stition of yours is able to bring errors among the common sort, 
not ease to your discontented mind. ^o 

Mid. Dost thou not know Martins, that when Bacchus com- 
maunded mee to bathe my selfe in Pactolus, thou thoughtedst it 
a meere mockerie, before with thine eyes thou sawest the remedie. 

Mar. I, Bacchus gaue the wish, and therefore was like also to 
geue the remedie. 45 

Mid. And who knowes whether Apollo gaue me these eares, 
and therefore may release the punishment? Wei, replie not, for 
I wil to Delphos : in the meane time let it be proclaimed, that if 
there be any so cunning, that can tell the reason of these reedes 
creaking, he shal haue my daughter to his wife, or if she refuse it, 50 
a Dukedome for his paines : and withal, that whosoeuer is so bolde 
as to say that Mydas hath asses eares, shal presently lose his. 

Soph. Deare father then go forwards, prepare for the sacrifice, 
and dispose of Sophronia as it beste pleaseth you. 

Mid. Come let vs in. Exeunt. 55 

SCiENA 2. — (^Gardens before the Palace!) 

{Enter) Licio. Petulus. 

Pet. \7[/Hat a rascall was Motto to cosen vs, and say there 
V V were thirtie men in a roome that would vndoe vs, 
and when all came to all, they were but table-men. 

ZJcio. I, and then to geeue vs an inuentorie of all his goods, 
only to redeeme the beard I but we will be euen with him ; and He 5 
be forswome but He be reuenged. 

28 dishonor,] Bl. om, comma 




Pet. And here I vow by my conceald beard, if euer it chaunce 

to be discouered to the worlde, that it maye make a pike deuant, 

I wil haue it so sharp poyntedi that it shall stab Motto like a 

xo poynado. 

Licio, And I protest by these haires on my head, which are but 

casualties, — for alas who knowes not how soone they are lost, 

Autumne shaues like a razor: — if these locks be rooted against 

winde and weather, spring and fall, I sweare they shal not be lopped, 

15 till Motto by my knauerie be so bauld, that I may ^Tite verses on his 

scalpe. In witnesse whereof I eate this haire: now must thou 

Petulus kisse thy beard, for that was the book thou swarest by. 

Pet. Nay I woulde I coulde come but to kisse my chinne, which 

is as yet the couer of my booke 1 but my word shall stand. Now let 

x> vs read the inuentorie, weele share it equally. 

Licio. What els ? 

Pet. {reading). *An inuentorie of all Mottoes moueable baddes 

and goods, as also of such debts as are owing him, with such hous- 

hold stufTe as cannot be remoued. Inprimis^ in the bed-chamber, 

25 one fowl wife, & fine smal children.* 

Ucio. He not share in that. 

Pet. I am content, take thou all. These be his moueable baddes. 

Ucio. And from me they shall be remoueables. 

Pet. * Item in the seruants chamber, two paire of curst queanes 

30 tongues.' 

Lido. Tongs thou wouldst say. 

Pet. Nay they pinch worse than tongs. 

Licio. They are moueables He warrant. 

Pet. * Item^ one pair of homes in the bridechamber, on the beds 


Lido. The beasts head, for Motto is stuft in the head, and these 

^ among vnmoueable goods. 

Pet. Wei, Faelix quern fadunt aliena pericula cautum^ happie are 

they whom other mens homes do make to beware. ^Jtem, a 

40 broken pate owing me by one of the Cole house, for notching his 

head like a ches-boorde.' 

Licio. Take thou that, and I geue thee al the rest of his debts. 

(^Makes as to strike Aim. ) 

17 swarest Q Bl. : swearedst Dii, : swearest F. 22-46 inv. com. DiL only 
23 moueable Q Bl. F. : moveables DiL 24 Imprimis Dil, 42 Licio] 

^' only. prev. eds. append Take . . . debts to Petulus^ preceding speech, though foil, 
hfrtih prefix PeU 



Pet. Noli me iangere^ I refuse the executorship, because I wil 
not meddle with his desperate debts. ^ Item^ an hundred shrewd 
tumes owing me by the Pages in the Court, because I will not trust 45 
them for trimming.' 

Lido, Thats due debt 

Pet Wei, because Motto is poore, they shalbe paid him cum re- 
cumbentUms. All the Pages shall enter into recognisance, but ecce^ 
Pipenetta chaunts it. 5o 

Enter Pipenetta singing. 


Pip. I. 'T As! How long shall I 

And my Mayden-head lie 
In a cold Bed all the night long, 
I cannot abide it, 

Yet away cannot chide it, 55 

Though I find, it does me some wrong 

2. Can any one tell 

Where this fine Thing doth dwell. 
That carries nor forme, nor fashion? 

It both heates and cooles, (k> 

Tis a Bable for Fooles, 
Yet catch*d at in euery Nation. 

3. Say a Maide were so crost, 
As to see this Toy lost, 

Cannot Hue and Cry fetch it agen? 65 

'Las! No, for tis driuen 

Nor to Hell, nor to Heauen; 
When tis found, tis lost euen then. 

Pip, Hey ho ! would I were a witch, that I might be a Dutchesse. 

Pet, I know not whether thy fortune is to be a Dutches, but 70 
sure I am thy face semes thee wel for a witch : whats the matter ? 

Pip* The matter? marry 'tis proclaymde, that who soeuer can 
tell the cause, and the reeds song, shal either haue Sophronia to 
wife, or (if she refuse it) a Dukedome for his wisdome. Besides, 
whosoeuer saith, that Mydas hath asses eares, shal lose theirs. 75 

Lido, He be a Duke, I finde honor to bud in my head, and 
mee thinkes euerie ioynt of mine armes, from the shoulder to the 

s. D. Enter Pipenetta singiDg so old eds, though Bl, first gives Song and words 
61 bauble DiL modemiting 73 cause, and Q Bl, : cause of Dil, F, perh, 

rightly {F, wrongly reports Q as reading of) 

^ii] kiDAS iS5 

little finger, saies send for the Herauld. Mine armes are all 
armariey gules, sables, azure, or, vert, pur, post, pare, &c. 

80 Pit And my heart is like a harth where Cupid is making a 
fire, for Sophronia shalbe my wife: me thinks Venus and Nature 
stande with each of them a paire of bellowes, the one cooling my 
lowe birth, the other kindling my loftie affections. 
Pip. Apollo wil help me because I can sing. 

85 Lido. Mercuric me, because I can lie. 

Pet All the Gods me, because I can lie, sing, sweare, and loue. 

But soft, here comes Motto^ now shal we haue a fit time to be 

reuenged, if by deuise we can make him say, Mydas hath asses 


Enter Motto {and Dello). 

90 lAcio. Let vs not seeme to bee angrie about the Inuentorie, 
and you shall see my wit to bee the hangman for his tongue* 

Pip. Why fooles, hath a Barbar a tongue ? 

Pet Weele make him haue a tongue, that his teeth that looke 
lyke a combe shall bee the cizzars to cut it off. 
95 Pip. I pray let mee haue the odde endes. I feare nothing so 
much as to be tongue tawde. 

Lido. Thou, shalt haue all the shauings, and then a womans 
tongue ympt with a Barbars, will prooue a razor or a raser. 

Pet How now, Motio^ what all a mort? 
100 Motto. I am as melancholy as a cat. 

Lido. Melancholy? marie gup, is melancholy a word for a 
barbars mouth ? thou shouldst say, heauie, dull and doltish : melan- 
choly is the creast of Courtiers armes, and now euerie base com- 
panion, beeing in his muble fubles, sayes he is melancholy. 
105 Pet. Motto^ thou shouldst say thou art lumpish. If thou encroach 
vpon our courtly tearmes, weele trotlce thee : belike if thou shouldst 
spit often, thou wouldst call it the rewme. Motto, in men of repu- 
tation & credit it is the rewme ; in such mechanicall mushrumpes, it 
is a catarre, a pose, the water euill. You were best weare a veluet ^ 
1 10 patch on your temples too. 

Motto {aside). What a world it is to see egges forwarder than 
cocks ! these infants are as cunning in diseases, as I that haue runne 
them ouer all, backward and forward. — I tell you boyes, it is melan- 
choly that now troubleth me. 

96 tongne Uw'de Bl, F. : tonguetied Dil. 107 the om, Bl, Dil. F. 108 
mushrooms Dii. 

I $6 MIDAS [actv 

J?e//d. My master could tickle you with diseases, and that olde 115 
ones, that haue continued in his Auncestors boanes these three 
hundred yeres. He is the last of the familie that is left vneaten. 

Motto. What meanst thou Dello f 

jPet. He meanes you are the last of the stocke aliue, the rest the 
wormes haue eaten. 120 

Z>ei/o. A pox of those sawcie wormes, that eate men before they 
be dead. 

Pet. But tell vs Motto, why art thou sad ? 

Motto, Because al the Court is sad. 

Idcio. Why are they sad in Court ? 125 

Motto, Because the King hath a paine in his eares. 
, Pet. Belike it is the wennes. 

Motto. It may be, for his eares are swolne verie big. 

Pet. {to Lie). Ten to one Motto knowes of the asses eares. 

Zia'o. If he know it, we shall : for it is as hard for a barbar to 130 
keepe a secrete in his mouth, as a burning coale in his hand. Thou 
shalt see mee wring it out by wit Motto, twas told me that the 
King will discharge you of your office^ because you cut his eare when 
you last trimd him. 

Motto. Tis a lye ; and yet if I had, he might wel spare an inch or ^35 

Pet. (Jo Lie.). It will out, I feele him comming. 

Dello {aside to Motto). Master, take heed, you will blab al anone, 
these wags are craftie. 

Motto. Let me alone ! 1^0 

Lido. Why Motto, what difference between the kings eares, and 
thine ? 

Motto. As much as betweene an asses eares and mine. 

Pet. O, Motto is modest ; to mitigate the matter, hee calls his 
owne eares, asses eares. 145 

Motto. Nay, I meane the Kings are asses eares. 
/ Lido. Treason, treason ! 

Dello. I told you, master ! you haue made a faire hand ; for now 
you haue made your lips cizars to cut off your eares. 

Motto. Perijt vnles you pitie me. Motto is in a pit ,50 

Pet. Nay Motto, treson is a worse pain than toothach. 

139 s. D. [to Lie] iuppl. Dil. Such directions are never marked in the old eds. 
s. D. [aside to Motto] supplied Dil. 148 you*] your Bl. 

sen] MIDAS 157 

Licio. > Now Motto^ thou knowest thine eares are ours to com- 

Motto. Your seruants, or handmaides. 
J55 Pti. Then will I lead my maide by the hand. 

He pulls him by the eares. 

Motto. Out villen ! thou wringst too hard. 

JDello. Not so hard as he bit me. 

Motto. Thou seest boy we are both mortall. I enioye mine 
eares, but durante placito ; nor thou thy finger, hvXfauente dento. 
160 JPet. Yea MottOy hast thou Latin ? 

Motto. Alas ! hee that hath drawen so manie teeth, and neuer 
askt Latin for a tooth, is ill brought vp. 

Udo. Well Motto, let vs haue the beard, without couin, fraud, or 
delay, at one entier paiment, & thou shalt scape a paiment 
1^5 Motto. I protest by cizars, brush and combe; bason, ball and 
apron; by razor, eare-pike and rubbing cloathes; and all the tria 
se^tiuntur triaes in our secret occupation (for you knowe it is no 
blabbing arte) that you shall haue the beard, in manner and forme 
following. Not onely the golden beard and euerie haire, (though 
170 it be not haire,) but a dozen of beards, to stufTe two dozen of 

Udo. Then they be big ones. 

Delh. They be halfe a yeard broad, and a nayle, three quarters 
long, and a foote thicke ; so sir shall you finde them stufte enough, 
175 and soft enough. All my mistres lynes that she dryes her cloathes 
on, are made only of Mustachio stuffe. And if I durst tell the 
truth, as lustie as I am heere, I lye vppon a bed of beards ; a bots 
of their bristles, and they that owe them! they are harder than 
180 Pet. A fine discourse! well Motto^ we giue thee mercie, but 
we will not loose the beard. Remember nowe our Inuentorie. Item^ 
wee will not let thee goe out of our hands, till we haue the beard in 
our hands. 

Motto. Then followe. Exeunt. 

159 dento Q Bl, F. : dente DiL stupidly 166 tria] tira F, ivithout out ho- 

^^y '73 nay!e,] Dil. om. comma 178 owe] DiL modernizes to own 

158 MIDAS [act V 

SCiEN. Z.— {Delphi. Before Apollo's Temple.) 

{Enter) Mydas. Sophronia. Mellicrates. Martius. 

Mid. 'T^His is Delphos. Sacred Apollo^ whose Oracles be all 

JL diuine, though doubtfuU : aunswere poore Mydas^ and 

pitie him. {A pause. ) 

Soph. I maniell there is no answere. 

Mid. Fond Mydas, how canst thou aske pitie of him whom thou 5 

hast so much abusde; or why doost thou abuse the world, both 

to seeme ignorant in not acknowledging an offence ; and impudent, 

so openly to craue pardon ? Apollo will not aunswere, but Mydas 

must not cease. Apollo, diuine Apollo, Mydas hath asses eares, yet 

let pitie sinke into thine eares, and tell when he shall be free from 10 

this shame, or what may mittigate his sinne? 

{A pause. ) 

Mar. Tush ! Apollo is tuning his pipes, or at barly-breake with 
Daphne, or assaying on some Shepheardes coate, or taking measure 
of a serpents skinne. Were I Mydas, I would rather cut these 
eares off close from my head, than stand whimpring before such 15 
a blinde God. 

Mid. Thou art barbrous not valiant. Gods must bee entreated, 
not commanded: thou wouldst quench fire with a sword, and ad 
to my shame (which is more than any Prince can endure) thy rude- 
nesse, (which is more than any sensible creature would folow). 20 
Diuine Apollo, what shal become of Mydas ? Accept this lute, 
these berries, these simples, these tapers ; if Apollo take any delight 
in musick, in Daphne, in phisicke, in eternitie. 

Apollo his Oracle. 

When Pan Apollo in musick shall excell, 

Mydas of Phrygia shall lose his Asses eares; 3. 

Pan did Apollo in musick farre excell. 

Therefore king Mydas weareth Asses eares : 

Vnlesse he shrinke his stretching hand from Lesbos, 

His eares in length, at length shal reach to Delphos. 

Mel. It were good, to expound these oracles, that the learned men 30 
in Phrygia were assembled ; otherwise the remedie wil be as impos- 
sible to be had, as the cause to be sifted. 

8. D. Apollo hii Orade Q Bl. both printing the words of the oracle as her* 

scin] MIDAS 159 

Mar. I foresaw some old saw, which should be doutfull. Who 

would gad to such gods, that must be honored if they speake without 

35 sence : and the Oracle wondred at, as though it were aboue sence? 

Mid. No more MartiusI I am the leamedst in Phrygia to 

interprete these Oracles : and though shame hath hetherto caused 

me to conceale it, now I must vnfould it by necessitie. Thus 

destinie bringeth me, not only to be cause of all my shame, but 

40 reporter. Thou Sophronia^ and you my Lordes, hearken ; When 

I had bathed my self in Pactolus^ and saw my wish to float in the 

wanes, I wished the waues to ouerflow my bodie, so melancolie my 

fortune made me, so mad my follie : yet by hunting I thought to 

ease my heart And comming at last to the hill Tmolus, I per- 

45 ceyued Apollo and Fan contending for excellencie in musick : 
among Nimphs they required also my iudgement. I (whom the 
losse of gold made discontent, and the possessing desperate) eyther 
dulled with the humors of my weak brain, or deceaued by thicknes 
of my deaffe eares, prefer'd the harsh noyse of Pans pipe, before 

50 the sweete stroke of ApoUos Lute, which caused Phabus in iustice 
(as I now confesse, and then as I sawe in anger) to set these eares 
on my head, that haue wroong so many teares from mine eyes. For 
stretching my hands to Lesbos, I find that all the Gods haue spumde 
at my practises, and those Ilandes scornd them. My pride the gods 

55 disdaine ; my pollicie men : my mines haue bin emptied by soul- 
diers, my souldiers spoyled by warres, my wars without successe, 
because vsurping, my vsurping without end, because my ambition 
aboue measure. I wil therfore yeeld my self to Bacchus^ and ac- 
knowledge my wish to be vanitie : to Apollo^ and confesse my 

60 iudgement to be foolish : to Mars^ and say my warres are vniust : 
to Diana^ and tell my affection hath been vnnaturall. And I doubt 
not, what a God hath done to make me know my selfe, al the gods 
wil help to vndo, that I may come to my selfe. 

Soph, {aside). Is it possible that Mydas should be so ouershot in 

65 iudgement ? Vnhappy Mydas^ whose wits melt with his gold, and 
whose gold is consumed with his wits. 

Mid. What talketh Sophronia to her selfe ? 
Soph. Nothing, but that since Mydas hath confessed his fault to 
vs, he also acknowledge it to Apollo. 

33 Mar.] Mel. Bl, 44 Timolas Dil. 45-6 musick: among Nimphs 

they so punctuated Q Bl. : music among nymphs ; they Dil, F., the latter placing 
comma at mnsiqnc 58-9 acknowledged F. 

i6o MIDAS [act V 


Mid. 1 wil Sophronia. Sacred Apollo^ things passed cannot be 70 
recalled, repented they may be : behold, Mydas not only" submitting 
himselfe to punishment, but confessing his peeuishnes, being glad 
for shame to call that peeuishnes, which indeed was foUie. What- 
soeuer Apollo shal commaund, Mydas will execute. 

Apollo (^from the Temple). Then attend Mydas. I accept thy sub- 75 
mission, and sacrifice, so as yerelie at this temple thou offer Sacrifice 
in submission : withal, take Apollos councel, which if thou scome, 
thou shalt finde thy destinie. I will not speake iti riddles, all 
shalbe plaine, because thou art dul, but all certaine, if thou be 
obstinate. 80 

Weigh not in one ballance gold and iustice. 

With one hand wage not war and peace. 

Let thy head be glad of one Crowne. 

And take care to keep one frend. 

The frend that thou wouldst make thy foe, 85 

The kingdome thou wouldst make the world. 

The hand that thou doest arme with force, 

The gold that thou doest think a god. 

Shall conquere, fsdl, shrinke short, be common: 

With force, with pride, with feare, with traffick. 90 

If this thou like, shake off an Asses eares : 

If not, for euer shake an Asses eares* 

Soph. Apollo will not reply. 

Mid. It may be Sophrotda^ that neither you, nor anie els, vnder- 
stand Apollo^ because none of you haue the hart of a king : but my 95 
thoughts expound my fortunes, and my fortunes hang vpon my 
thoughts. That great Apollo^ that ioynd to my head Asses eares, 
hath put into my heart a Lions minde. I see that by obscure 
shadows, which you cannot disceme in fresh colours. Apollo in the 
depth of his darke answere, is to mee the glistering of a bright sunne. 100 
I perceiue (and yet not too late) that Lesbos wil not be touched by 
gold, by force it cannot : that the Gods haue pitched it out of the 
world, as not to bee controlde by any in the world. Though my 
hande bee golde, yet I must not thinke to span ouer the maine 
Ocean. Though my souldiers be valiant, I must not therfore thinke 105 
my quarrels iusL There is no way to nayle the crowne of Phrygia 

93 Soph. F. onfyf prtv, eds. priniing the speech as closing Hne of the oracle 
97 That] The Dil. 

in] MIDAS i6i 

fast to my daughtevd head but in letting the crownes of others sitte 
in quiet on theirs. 
Jfar. Mydas! 

no Mid. How darest thou replie seeing me resolued? thy counsell 
hath spilt more bloud than all my souldiers lances ! let none be so 
hardie as to looke to crosse me. Sacred AppollOy if sacrifice yerely 
at thy temple, and submission hourely in mine owne Court, if ful- 
filling fliy counsell, and correcting my councellors, may shake off 

115 these Asses eares, I heere before thee vow to shake off al enuies 
abrode, and at home all tyrannie. 

The eares fall off. 

Soph. Honored be ApollOy Mydas is restored. 
Mid. Fortunate Mydas^ that feelst thy head lightned of dul eares, 
and thy heart of deadly sorows. Come my Lords, let vs repaire 

1 30 to our Palace, in which Apollo shall haue a stately statue erected: 
euery month will we solemnize there a feast, and here euery yere 
a sacrifice. Phrygia shalbe gouerned by Gods, not men, leaste the 
Gods make beasts of men. So my counsell of warre shal not make 
conquests in their owne conceiptes, nor my councellers in peace 

125 make me poor, to enrich them selues. So blessed be Apollo^ quiet 
be Lesbos, happie be Mydas: and to begin this solemnitie, let 
vs sing to Apollo^ for, so much as Musick, nothing can content 

They sing all. 



Clng to Apollo^ God of Day, 

Whose golden beames with mommg play. 

And make her eyes so brightly shine, 
Aurora^s face is call'd Diuine. 
Sing to PhcBbus^ and that Throne 
Of Diamonds which he sits vpon ; 
J 25 I^ Paeans let vs sing, 

To Physickes, and to Poesies King. 

1 30 statue] palace Dil. s. D. They ling all. Exeunt, so Q, omitting th€ 

•words of the song, which are first given in 6 I. 


x62 MIDAS [act V, sc. iii 

Crowne all his Altars with bright fire^ 
Laurels bind about his Lire, 
A Daphnecm Coronet for his Head, 
The Muses dance about his Bed; 
When on his rauishing Lute he playes. 
Strew his Temple round with Bayes. 

16 Paeans let vs sing, 

To the glittering Delian King. 





II 2 


'xriij Jonij 1594 Cathbert Burby . Entred for his copie Tnder th and of master 
warden Cawood a booke intituled mother Bambye beinge an enterlade . . • yj^ C* 
Statiaturs^ Register, ii. 654 (ed. Arb.)* (' C * indicates the warden, Cawood ; juat 
as ' S ' and ' A/ on pp. 631, 614, indicate the wardens Styrrop and Allen.) 

Q'* Mother \ BotnbU. \ As it was sundrie times plaUd by \ the Children ofPowles, \ 
London, \ Imprinted by Thomas Scarlet \for Cuthbert Burby, | 1594. | 4to. A-l 3 
in fours : no coU (Br. Mas. : Bodl.) 

Q • Mother \ Bombie, \ As it was sundrie times \ plaiedby the Children of Powles. \ 
London \ Printed by Thomas Crude, for Cuthbert \ Burby, 1598. | 4to. a-h in 
fonrs: no col. (Br. Mns;: Bodl.: Dyce Coll. S. Kens.) 

The Sixe Court Comedies are entered to Blount under date 9 Jan. 1638. (^Sta. 
Reg, iv. p. 19a, Arb.— entry quoted under Campaspe Eds.) 

Third cd. Mother \ Bombie. \ As it was sundry times \ Played by the Children \ of Pavls. \ 
(Blount's) iffnfion^ | printed by William Stamby, \for Edward Blount. \ 163a. | lamo, 

occupying Z4-Dd la, in twelves, of the Sixe Court Comedies. 
Also contained in Dilke*s Old English Plays, vol. i. 1814, 8vo : and in Fair- ' 

holt's edition of Lyly's Dramatic Works, vol. ii. 1858, sm. 8vo. 


Argument. — Two wealthy old men, Memphio and Stellio, each 
ignorant of mental defect in the other's child (named Accius and 
Silena respectively), scheme to cheat each other into matching them. 
Two other old men, Sperantus and Prisius, opposing the union of 
their son and daughter Candius and Livia, scheme to marry them to 
the foolish children of their wealthier neighbours. The pages of all 
four, allies in mischief, are privy to their schemes, and possess the 
further knowledge of weak wits in Accius and Silena. To befool 
their masters, they plot to forward alike the undesirable match be- 
tween these ttiro, and the love-match between Candius and Livia. 
After a first meeting between the fools, interrupted by the parents 
before the defect is discovered to be mutual, they arrange for a 
second, at which either parent supposes his imbecile child to be per- 
sonated by some one better qualified for courting. But the fools, 
though disguised in Candius' and Livia's attire, betray their identity 
to his or her parent, and their folly to the parent of the other. 
Meantime Candius and Livia, disguised as Accius and Silena, have 
effected their marriage with the connivance of their unsuspecting 
fathers, who, though they see their ambitions thus thwarted, are still 
resolved to prevent their own children's union. Discovering that 
they have been duped, they at length determine to forgive the 
offenders and their accomplices. Memphio and Stellio are similarly 
persuaded that a match between the two fools will be better than no 
union for them at all; but the marriage is prevented by the discovery 
that they are really the children of an old nurse Vicinia, who 
changed them at birth for the rich men's real offspring, Maestius and 
Serena. An unnatural passion between these latter is thus rendered 
legitimate ; Memphio and Stellio engage still to support the crazed 
couple ; the rascally pages are forgiven, and the general goodwill 
enhanced by the amicable adjustment of a side-quarrel between the 
latter and a horse-dealer. Mother Bombie, who gives a title to the 
piece, is a ' wise woman ' to whom the different characters resort for 


advice or prognostication, and who prophesies in popular doggrel 
form the actual issue in each case ; but she affects the plot only as 
inducing Vicinia's confession at the close. 

Text and Bibliography. — The text followed is that of Q\ 
which however corrupt is by far the best, and well printed. It 
exhibits some seventy errors, ten occurring in classical quotations 
(e.g. on pp. i8i, i86, 192, 206), ten being omissions of speeches, hn- 
portant words, or stage-directions for entry and exit (e.g. on pp. 189, 
217, 222), ten or twelve others being mistakes that cause con- 
fusion (e.g. on pp. 196, 205, 210, 212, 221), and the rest compara- 
tively unimportant 

Q* corrects only twenty of the seventy mistakes of Q^, only six of 
which corrections are important, the rest being of such errors as 
could cause no misapprehension ; while on the other hand it intro- 
duces sixty-seven corruptions, including six important omissions 
(on pp. 182, 183, 193, 202, 21 1, 218) and fifteen other important errors 
(on pp. 178, 184 (two), 190, 192 (two), 193 (two), 196, 197, 204, 211, 
212, 216 and 222). 

Blount prints from Q' and perpetuates most of its errors, making 
altogether only twelve corrections and sixteen fresh corruptions. 
But he inserts all the songs except 'The Love-knot,' v. 3. 21. 

Dilke seems to have had both quartos before him, though in two 
instances, i. 3. 169, ii. i. 12, he fails to insert three words found only 
in the first He makes sixteen corrections and eleven corruptions 
— distinctly the next best text to Q^ though modernized in places. 

Fairholt merely reprinted Blount, making only five original cor- 
rections and introducing twenty corruptions. His notes, in which 
one or two of the worst omissions and errors are pointed out and 
emended, show that he had both QQ, as well as Dilke*s edition, 
before him ; but he mad» no thorough collation of the text, so that 
the great majority of its errors were reproduced. By returning to Q^ 
we eliminate the whole after-growth of corruption, while we have 
attempted to emend its original errors. 

Authorship. — The evidence of Lyly's authorship of the play is 
its performance by the PauFs boys ; its scene laid in his county of 
Kent ; its strong resemblance in plot-construction and handling to 
Tiis other plays, in spite of his abandonment here of a mythological, 


allegorical or ideal treatment for a realistic one ; its repetition of 
many phrases, proverbs, &c. used by him elsewhere — though the 
euphuistic style is almost entirely abandoned ; and lastly, its inclusion 
by Blount in the Sixe Covrt Comedies of 1632. His name, however, 
appears on the title-page of neither quarto edition. 

Scarce. — There appears to be no direct source for the plot — the 
only one of Lyly's plays of which this can be said : but the general 
model — the idea of rascally servants aiding their young masters in 
marriage-schemes against their parents' wishes — is obviously Terence. 
Of Roman comedy also is the motive of child-changing, and the 
solution of the plot by the discovery of such. In my note on 
Italian influence (vol. ii. pp. 473 sqq.) I have already stated that I 
attach little importance to Herr L. L. Schiicking's claim that the 
piece is indebted to Ariosto's SupposiH^ to Cecchi's comedies, or to 
the Anfivalomcni of Cinthio; though doubtless Lyly had read 
Gascoigne's Supposes^ which could yield him next to nothing for our 
play. In the Hackneyman and the Fortune-teller we have English 
national types for which Lyly's own experience could furnish him 
with far better and more abundant models than possibly could the 
Italian extemporal stage. 

Date. — The play in spite of its contemporary character contains 
nothing that may help us to date it save the statement on the title- 
page of the first quarto (1594) that it was 'sundrie times plaied 
by the Children of Powles.' This must be before their long in- 
hibition, our earliest evidence of which is the entry of Endimion^ 
Gallathea ziA Midas in the Stationers' Register Oct 4, 1591, coupled 
with the allusion of the printer in his prefatory note to Endimion, 
1 59 1 : — 'Since the Plaies in Paules were dissolued there are certaine 
Commedies come to my handes by chaunce,' &c. Midas was per- 
formed at Court on Jan. 6, 1590, and there is no necessity to suppose 
the inhibition earlier than 1591. Fleay dates Mother Bombie 1588-9 
or possibly 1589-90. But it is scarcely conceivable that a play of 
contemporary life, written by the topical Lyly in the year of the 
Armada, and with the scene laid in Kent, should contain no faintest 
echo of the great struggle which then absorbed all men's thoughts ; 
while in 1589 Lyly was probably too busy to write it, for he sat in 
Parliament from Feb. 4 to March 29, and composed both Midas and 
Pappe^ and probably one of the lost Anti-Martinist comedies, in the 


same year. There are strong reasons for supposing it later than 
Midas in (i) the rarity of reminiscences of Euphues and the few 
traces of euphuistic style ; (2) the far greater skill in weaving a plot, 
a point in which we have already watched his gradual advance; 
lastly, (3), an arguipent well urged by Mr. Baker {Endymioriy p. clii), 
its character as a new departure, aa essay in Terentian comedy, after 
which Lyly would be less likely to return to the more conventional 
allegorical fashion of Midas and the three preceding plays. I 
should, therefore^ date its composition and production in 1590. The 
reason why it is not included among those announced for publica- 
tion by Widow Broome in 1591, is, perhaps, its more popular 
character, which would give it a better chance of acceptance at other 

Time and Place. — Some two days altogether are occupied, from 
the middle of Monday to the middle of Wednesday. The continuity 
of Acts i and ii is shown at the beginning of ii. i, where Riscio 
meets Dromio, whom he set out to seek at the end of i. 2. At the 
end of ii. i the four wags adjourn to the tavern, and on issuing from 
it agree to meet *to morrow' (ii. 4. 24). In iii. 2 they do so 
meet, having in the interim fixed the second encounter of Accius 
and Silena for that evening ('I told him this wooing should be 
to night' (iii. 2. 36). Just before that second encounter, occurs 
the troth-plight of Candius and Livia and their immediate adjourn- 
ment to church (iv. i. 58). Towards the close of this same 
second day the wags adjourn with the Sergeant, Hackneyman and 
Scrivener to the tavern (iv. 2. 242), whence they are seen issuing 
in V. I. A night intervenes, and then in v. 2 Mother Bombie 
promises Vicinia a solution of her difficulties ' before this daie end,' 
which corresponds with her promise to Msestius and Serena on the 
preceding day (iii. i. 40) that they should * be married to morow.' 
Immediately after enter the fiddlers (v. 3) to salute the newly- 
married pair, Candius and Livia, with morning music ; and at the 
close of the long denouement the four old men agree to feast at their 
respective houses on that and the three following days, ' and euen so 
spend this weeke in good cheere.' 

So that Acts i, ii occupy the latter part of Monday. 
„ „ iii, iy, v. i occupy the whole of Tuesday. 
i> 91 V. 2, 3 occupy the first part of Wednesday. 


In the matter of Place Lyly strictly follows his Roman model, 
Terence. Whatever improbabilities are involved, the stage repre- 
sents throughout one and the same place, an open square, namely, 
or street, wherein are situated the houses of the four old men, of 
Mother Bombie and of the Scrivener, and also the tavern to which 
the different characters repair ; nor is there anything in the dialogue 
requiring an imaginary transfer in the middle of a scene. The proof 
of this identity of scene is as follows : the near neighbourhood of 
Memphio's and Stellio's houses is implied in iii. 3 and iv. 2, where, 
after their first and second encounters, the parents call their half- 
witted children in. That Sperantus' house is hard by is evident 
from V. 3, where the fiddlers pass from it to Memphio's, and are 
greeted from upper windows by Sperantus and Memphio in turn. 
That Mother Bombie's house is also there is clear from ii. 3, where 
Silena, seen issuing * out of Stellio's house ' at the beginning of the 
scene, summons the wise woman forth to speak with her near the 
end of it. That Prisius' house is also near is shown in iii. 4, where 
his servants Rixula and Lucio have evidently just come out of it, 
and visit Mother Bombie in the same scene. (Note that Rixula, 
hearing from Mother Bombie the whereabouts of the spoon she has 
lost, wants to run at once and see if it is still there, iii. 4. 153-7*) 
The presence of the tavern and the Scrivener's house is evident 
from the end of iv. 2, a scene already shown to be laid before the 
houses of Memphio and Stellio. 



^;^^ B O M B I E. 4^y«!^ 

V3^^^' ^/ (7 irrf/ fundf it limts fticd l>) ^^, ^T 
^L^aS ikCkUrtmf Fmh. icSS^S 

JS^S^if . London, i;jl?J/#5if 

t" ^V6 ^Tiprinrtdby ThomflsScarlec ^y\A^ 
.r'y» forCuihbcriBiirby. „US'.» 

^ •ai.^Jm 


Memphio, an avaricious Old Man. 

Stellio, a wealthy Husbandman. 

Prisius, a Fuller. 

Sperantus, a Farmer. 
'^^Candius, Son to Sperantus, 5 

"^ MfiSTius, Son to Memphio; supposed Son to Vicinia. 
-H Accius, supposed Son to Memphio. 

Dromio, a Boy^ Servant to Memphio. 

Riscio, a Boy, Servant to Stellio. 

Halfpenny, a Boy^ Servant to Sperantus. lo 

Lucio, a Boy^ Servant to Prisius. 
'^ LiviA, Daughter to Frisius. 

^ Serzha^ Daughter to Stellio ; supposed Daughter to Vicinia. 
-r SiLENA, supposed Daughter to Stellio. 

Vicinia, a Nurse^ Mother to Accius and Silena. 15 

Mother Bombie, a Fortune-teller. 

RixULA, a Servant-girl to Frisius. 


N ASUTUS, • three Fiddlers. 

BedunenusJ ao 




Scene — Rochester: an open square or street.) 

Dram. Pees.] the list first in Dilke, descriptions in Fairholt. 3^4 Prisius, 
a Fuller ; Spbrantus, a Farmer] Fairholt described them as ' old cowUrymen * ; 
but supp. 178 top^ i8a //. 184, 189, 19^ /. 62, aax /. 144 ScBifB-«-Rochester 

^tcc.] Fairholt first fiave the scene ' /Rochester ' 





ScENA Prima. 
{Enter) Memphio, DROMia 

Memphio, T^ OY, there are three thinges that make my life miser- 
J3 able ; a threed bare purse, a curst wife, & a foole 
to my heire. 
Dro. Why then, sir, there are three medicines for these three ^ 
5 maladies ; a pike-stafife to take a purse on the high way, a holly -? 
wand to brush cholar frd my mistres tong, and a young wench for 
my yong master : so that as your Worship being wise begot a foole, . 
so he beeing a foole may tread out a wise man. 

Memp. I, but, Dromio^ these medicines bite hot on great mis-. 
xo chiefs ; for so might I haue a rope about my necke, homes vpon ^ 
my head, and in my house a litter of fooles. 

Dro. Then, sir, you had best let some wise man sit on your 
Sonne, to hatch him a good wit : they saie, if lauens sit on hens 
egs, the chickens will be black, and so forth. 
15 Memp, Why boy, my sonne is out of the shell, and is growen 
a pretie cocke. 

Dro, Carue him, master, & make him a capon, els all your breed 
will proue cockescombes. 
Memp. I maruell he is such an asse, hee takes it not of his 
30 father. 

Dro, He may for anie thing you know. 

Memp. Why, villain, dost thou think me a foole ? 

Dro. O no, sir, neither are you sure that you are his father, v 

Actus . . . Prima] the division into Acts and Scenes is that of the oldest and alt 
succeeding editions 5 mala-ladies Q^ holy Q^ 6choler^/. 

Dil, F. 14 chichens Q^ 15 growne Q^ rest 


1> ^ 

174 MOTHER BOMBIE [acti 

Memp. Rascall, doest thou imagine thy mistres naught of her 
bodie? 35 

Dro, No, but fantasticall of her mind ; and it may be, when this 
boy was begotten shee thought of a foole, & so conceiued a foole, 
your selfe beeing verie wise, and she surpassing honest. 

Memp, It may be; for I haue heard of an Aethiopian, that 
thinking of a faire picture, brought forth a faire ladie, and yet no 30 

Dro, You are well read, sir ; your sonne may be a bastard, and 
^ ^ /yet legitimate ; your selfe a cuckold, & yet my mistres vertuous ; all 
this in conceit. 

Memp, Come, Dromio^ it is my grief to haue such a sonne that 35 
must inherit my lands. 

Dro, He needs not, sir, He b^ him for a foole. 

Memp, Vile boy I thy yong master ? 

Dro, Let me haue in a deuice. 
V Memp, He haue thy aduice, and if it fadge, thou shalt eate till 4^^ 
thou sweate, play till thou sleep, and sleepe till thy bones ake. 

Dro, I marie, now you tickle me^ I am both hungrie, gamesome, 
& sleepie, and all at once. He breake this head against the wal, but 
He make it bleed good matter. 

Memp, Then this it is^ thou knowest I haue but one sonne, and 45 
be is a foole. 
/ Dro, A monstrous foole ! 

Memp, A wife, and she an arrand scold. 

Dro, Ah, master, I smell your deuice, it will be excellent ! 

Memp, Thou canst not know it till I tell it 50 

Dro, I see it through your braines, your haire is so thin, and your 
scull so transparant, I may sooner see it than heare it. 

Memp, Then, boy, hast thou a quicke wit, and I a slow tongue ; 
but what ist ? 

Dro, Marie, either you would haue your wiues tong in your sons 55 
head, that he might bee a prating foole ; or his braines in hir brain 
pan, that she might be a foolish scold. 

Memp, Thou dreamst, Dromio^ there is no such matter. Thou 
knowest I haue kept him close, so that my neighbors thinke him to 
be wise, and her to be temperate, because they neuer heard them 60 

30 ladie so all: qy, t bftbie {P, A, Danitt) 40-1 eate till thou] eate, thon 

fhalt alleds,: see note 48 arrand QQ Bl, 59 him ^J them Dil, phps, rightljt 


JDro. WeU! 

Memp. Thou knowest that Steltio hath a good farme and a faire 
daughter; yea so faire that she is mewed vp, and onely looketh out 
65 at the windows, least she should by some roisting courtier be stollen 

Dro. So, sir. 

Memp. Now if I could compasse a match between my sonne 
and SUlUos daughter, by conference of vs parents, and without 
70 theirs, I should be blessed, he coosned, and thou for euer set at 

jDro, A singular conceit 

Memp, Thus much for my sonne. Nowe for my wife ; I would 
haue this kept from her, else shal I not be able to keepe my house 
75 from smoake ; for let it come to one of her eares, & then wo to both 
mine : I would haue her goe to my house into the Countrie whilest 
we conclude this ; and this once done, I care not if her tong neuer 
haue done : these if thou canst effect, thou shalt make thy master 
80 Dro, Thinke it done, this noddle shall coin such new deuice as 
you shall haue your sonne marryed by to morrow. 

Metnp, But take heed that neither the father nor the maide speak 
to my sonne, for then his folly will marre all. 

Dro. Lay all the care on mee, SubUuabo te onere^ I will rid you of 
$5 a foole. 

Memp, Wilt thou rid me for a foole ? 

Dro. Tush ! quarrell not 

Memp. Then for the dowrie, let it bee at least two hundreth ducats, 
and after his death the farme. 
90 Dro. What else ? 

Memp. Then let vs in, that I may furnish thee with some better 
counsell, and my son with better apparelL 

Dro. Let me alone. — {Aside.} I lacke but a wagge more to make 
of my counsell, and then you shall see an exquisite coosnage, & the 
95 father more foole than the sonne. — But heare you^ sir, I forgot one 

Memp. Whatsthat? 

Dro. Nay, Expellas furca licet^ vsgue recurret. 

Memp. Whats the meaning ? 

67 So,] No, F. 70 coosDcd QQ Bl F. : coz*ned DU, 75 woe Bl. 

DU. F. 81 by] py (^ 88 hosdieth QQ Bl. : hmidred DiL : hmidicdth F. 

176 MOTHER BOMBIE [acti 

^ Dro, Why though your sons folly bee thrast vp with a paire of loo 
homes on a forke, yet being naturall, it will haue his course. 
Memp, I praie thee no more, but about it Exeunt 

ScE. 2. 

(^Enter) Steluo, Riscio. 

SteL Risio^ my daughter is passing amiable, but verie simple. 
V Ris. You meane a foote, sir. 

SteL Faith I implie so much. 

Ris. Then I apply it fit : the one shee takes of her father, the 
^ other of her mother : now you may bee sure she is your owne. 5 

SteL I have penned her vp in a chamber, hauing onely a windowe 
to looke out, that youthes seeing her fayre cheekes, may be ena- 
moured before they heare her fond speech. How likest thou this 

Ris. There is verie good workmanship in it, but the matter is but 10 
base ; if the stuffe had bene as good as the mold, your daughter had 
bene as wise as she is beautifuU. 

SteL Doest thou thinke she tooke her foolishnes of mee ? 

Ris. I, & so cunningly, that she toke it not frd you. 

Stel, Well, Quod naturd dedity toUere nemo potest. 15 

Ris, A good euidence to proue the fee-simple of your daughters 

SteL Why? 

Ris, It came by nature, and if none can take it awaie, it is per- 
petuall. 20 

SteL Nay, Riscio^ she is no natural foole, but in this consisteth her 
> simplicitie, that she thinketh her selfe subtile ; in this her rudenesse, 
that she imagines she is courtly ; in this the ouershooting Of her selfe, 
that she ouerweeneth of her selfe. 

Ris. Well, what followes ? 25 

SteL RisiOy this is my plot Memphio hath a pretie stripling to his 
Sonne, whom with cockring he hath made wanton : his girdle must 
be warmde, the ayre must not breath on him, he must lie a bed til 
noon, and yet m his bed breake his fast : that which I doe to con- 

loi his] its /^ loa no] no no (^ BU ScE. 2] old eds, prefix an 

erroneous Act 2 ^s. n. Riscio QQ^ though elsewhere often Risio. I follow 

their various spelling only in cUalogue and old stago^rections 2 2 selfe twice 

^. subtiie; ia Vil.: sabUle in QQ BL F. 


30 oeale the folly of my daughter, that doth hee m too much cockering 
of his somie. Now, RiHo^ how shall I compasse a match betweene 
my girle and his boy ? 

Jtis, Why with a payre of compasses, and bring them both into 
the circle, He warrant the'il match themselues. 
35 Std. Tush ! plot it for me that neuer speaking one to another, 
they be in loue one with another : I like not solemne woing, it is for 
courtiers ; let countrie folkes beleeue others reports as much as their 
own opinions. 

Jtis, O then, so it be a match you care not 
40 SUl. Not I, nor for a match neither, were it not I thirst after my 
neighbors farme. 

Jtis. {aside), A verie good nature. — ^Well, if by flat wit I bring 
this to passe, whats my rewerd ? 
SUL Whatsoeuer thou wilt aske. 
45 Jiis, He aske no more than by my wit I can get in the bargaine. 
Stel. Then about it. Exit 

Ris, If I come not about you neuer trust mee. He seeke out 
DromiOf the counseller of my conceit {Exit.} 

ScE. 3. 

{Enter) Prisius, Sperantus. 

Fris. It is vnneighbourly done to suffer your son since hee came 

from schoole, to spende his time in loue ; and vnwisely done to let 

him houer ouer my daughter, who hath nothing to her dowrie but 

her needle, & must proue a Sempster ; nor he any thing to take to 

5 but a Grammer, and cannot at the best be but a schoolemaster. 

Spe. Prisius^ you bite and whine, wring me on the withers, and 
yet winch your selfe ; it is you that goe about to match your girle 
with my boy, shee beeing more fit for seames than for marriage, and 
hee for a rod than a wife. 
10 Pris. Her birth requires a better bridegrome than such a 

Spe. And his bringing vp another gate marriage than such 
a minion. 

Fris, Marie gup! I am sure he hath no better bread than is 

41 farme] fame BL F. 43 rewerd C*: reward Q^ Bl. mods. 48 Dromio 
Q^ mods, : Romio Q'^ Bl. 4 to* 0* Dil, : too Q^ BL F. 7 wince Dil. 

your girle] my girle Q^ I a gates Q* Bl. IHl. : gate's F. ! 


178 MOTHER BOMBIE [acti 

made of wheat, nor wome finer cloth than is made of woll, nor 15 
' learned better manners than are taught in schooles. 

Spe. Nor your minxe had no better grandfather than a Taller, 
who (as I haue heard) was poore and proud : nor a better father 
y than your selfe, vnlesse your wife borrowed a better, to make her 
(laughter a Gentlewoman. 30 

Pris, Twit not me with my ancestors, nor my wiues honestie ; if 
thou doest— (^threatening him,) 

Spe. Hold thy hands still, thou hadst best ; & yet it is impossible 
now I remSber, for thou hast the palsy. 

Pris. My handes shake so, that wert thou in place where, I would 35 
teach thee to cog. 

Sp€. Nay, if thou shake thy hands, I warrant thou canst not teach 
anie to cog. But, neighbour, let not two olde fooles fall out for two 
yong wantons. 

Pris. In deed it becdmeth men of our experience to reason, not 30 
raile : to debate the matter, not to combat it 

Spe. Wei, then this He tel thee friendly, I haue almost these two 
yeres cast in my head, how I might match my princockes with StelUos 
daughter, whom I haue heard to be verie faire, and know shal be 
verie rich : she is his heire ; he doats, he is stooping old, and shortly 35 
must die ; yet by no meanes, either by blessing or cursing can I win 
my Sonne to be a woer, which I know proceeds not of bashfulnesse 
but stubbomnesse ; for hee knowes his good though I saie it, he 
hath wit at wil: as for his personage, I care not who sees him, 
I can tell you he is able to make a Ladies mouth water if she 40 
winke not 

Pris. Stay, Sperantus^ this is like my case, for I haue bene tam- 
pering as long to haue a marriage cdmitted betweene my wench and 
Memphios only son : they saie he is as goodly a youth as one shall 
$ee in a Summers daie, and as neate a stripling as euer went on 45 
neats leather ; his father will not let him be forth of his sight, he is 
so tender ouer him ; he yet lies with his mother for catching cold. 
Now my pretie elfe, as proud as the day is long, she wil none of him, 
^ she forsooth wil choose her owne husband; made marriages proue 
^ I'*' mad marriages; shee will choose with her eie, and like with her 50 

hearty before she consent with her tong ; neither father nor mother, 

15 woU (^x wol C*! wooll Bl, F,\ wool Dil. 19 her (^\ your re$t 

a I with hrfcre my* F, for before if ^ Bl. mods. 25 ihake, so that 

BL F. 46 be] UJ3i. : hie F. 

$ciii] MOTHER BOMBIE; 179 

kith nor kin^ shalbe her caruer in a husband, shee will fall too where 
she likes best ; and thus the chicke scarce out of the shell, cackles as 
though she had bene troden with an hundreth cockes, and mother of 

55 a thousand egges. 

Sp€^ Well then^ this is our best, seeing we knowe each others 
minde, to deuise to goueme our owne children : for my boy. He 
keepe him to his bookes, & studie shall make him leaue to loue ; 
He breake him of his will, or his bones with a cudgell, 

60 Pns* And He no more dandle my daughter; shee shall prick oi) 
a clout till her fingers ake, or He cause her leaue to make my heart 
ake. But in good time, though with ill lucke, beholde if they be 
not both together; let vs stand close and heare all, so shall we pre^ 
uent all, (^They stand aside.y 

Enter Candius and Liuia. 

65 Spe. {aside). This happens pat, take heed you cough not, Prisius^ 
Fris, Tush ! spit not you, & He warrant, I, my beard is as goodl 
as a handkerchiefe. 

Livia. Sweet Candius^ if thy father should see vs alone, would 
he not fret? The old man me thinkes should be full of 
70 fumes. 

Cand. Tush! let him fret one heart string against another, he 
shall neuer trouble the least vaine of my little finger. The old churle *^ 
thinkes none wise, vnles he haue a beard hang dagling to his wast : 
when my face is bedaubed with haire as his, then perchance my con- 
75 ceit may stumble on his staiednes. 

Fris, {aside). I, in what booke read you that lesson ? 
Spe. I know not in what booke hee read it, but I am sure he was 
a knaue to leame it 

Cand. I beleeue, faire Liuia^ if your soure sire shuld see you with 
80 your sweet heart, he would not be verie patient 

Livia. The care is taken. He aske him blessing as a father, but 

neuer take counsel for an husband ; there is as much oddes between 

my golden thoughts, & his leaden aduice, as betweene his siluer 

haires, and my amber lockes ; I know hee will cough for anger that 

85 I yeeld not, but he shall cough mee a foole for his labour. 

Spe. {aside to Pris.). Where pickt your daughter that worke, out 
of broad-stitch ? 

58 him' Q^ only 60 dandle] dandie /% s. D. [They stand aside] suppi. 

nil. 67 haudkercheffe (? 

N 2 

i8o MOTHER BOMBIE [acti 

Pris. Out of a flirts sampler ; but let vs stay the end, this is but 
the beginning, you shall heare two children well brought vp ! 

Cand. Parents in these daies are growen pieuish, they rocke their 9^ 
children in their cradles till they sleepe, and crosse them about their 
bridals till their hearts ake. Marriage among them is become a 
market What will you giue with your daughter? What loynter 
V will you make for your sonne ? And many a match is broken off 
for a penie more or lesse, as though they could not afford their 95 
children at such a price ; when none should cheapen such ware but 
affection, and none buy it but loue. 
Spe, {aside}. Learnedly and scholerlike ! 

Lhna. In deed our parents take great care to make vs aske 
blessing, and say grace when as we are lyttle ones, and growing to loo 
yeeres of iudgement, they depriue vs of the greatest blessing, and 
the most gracious things to our mindes, the libertie of our minds : 
they giue vs pap with a spoon before we can speak, and when wee 
speake for that wee loue, pap with a hatchet : because their fansies 
. yfly/ beeing growen musty with hoarie age, therefore nothing can relish 105 
A\jJ^ in their thoughtes that sauours of sweet youth : they studie twentie 
j^^^ .,\ yeeres together to make vs grow as straight as a wande, and in the 
^ ende by bowing vs, make vs as crooked as a cammocke. For mine 

' owne part (sweet Candius) they shall pardon me, for I will measure 

my loue by min owne iudgement, not my fathers purse or peeuish- no 
hes. Nature hath made me his child, not his slaue : I hate Metnphio 
and his son deadly, if I wist he would place his affection by his fathers 
^ FrU, {aside). Wittily but vnciuily I 

Can, Be of that minde still, my faire Liuia : let our fathers lay 115 
their purses together, we our harts. I wil neuer woo where I cannot 
loue: let StelUo inioy his daughter. But what haue you wrought 

Lima, Flowers, fowles, beasts, fishes, trees, plants, stones, and 
what not Among flowers, cowslops & lillyes, for our names Candius 120 
and JUuia, Among fowles. Turtles and Sparrowes, for our truth and 
^ ^ ' >* desires. Among beasts, the foxe and the Ermin, for beautie and 
policie. And among fishes, the cockle & the Tortuse, because of 
Venus, Among trees, the vine wreathing about the elme, for our 

100 as Q^only 106 twentie] ao Q* X08 make ts Q^ only 116 woo] 
woe Bl, F, 134 Venus; among trees, the Dii, : Venus among trees, the Q^ : 

Venns among trees : the Q^ BLfolL hy F,\ 



-scui] MOTHER BOMBIE 182 

125 embracings. Among stones, Abeston, which being hot wil neuer be 
colde, for our constancies. Among plants, Time and harts-ease, t6 
note that if we take time, we shall ease our hearts. 

jPris, {aside}, Theres a girle that knowes her lerripoope. 
Spe. (aside). Listen, & you shall heare my sons learning. 
130 Zivia. What booke is that? 

Can, A fine pleasant poet, who entreateth of the arte of Loue, and 
of the remedie. 

Zivia. Is there arte in loue ? 
Can. A short art & a certain, three rules in 3 lines. 
135 Zivia. I praie thee repeat them. 

Can. Principio quod amare velis reperire iahara^ 

Proximus huic Ud>ar est placidam exarare puellanty 
Tertius vt longo tempore duret amor. 
Zwia. I am no Latinist, Candius^ you must conster it 
140 Can. So I will, and pace it too: thou shalt be acquainted with 
case, gender, and number. First, one must finde out a mistres whom 
before all others he voweth to seme. Secondly, that he vse al the 
means that he may to obtaine her. And the last, with deserts^ faith, 
and secrecie, to studie to keepe her. 
145 Zivia. Whats the remedie ? 
Can. Death. 

Zivia. What of all the booke is the conclusion ? 
Can. This one verse, Non caret effectu quod voiuere duo. 
Zivia. Whats that ? 
150 Can, Where two are agreed, it is impossible but they must speed. 
Zivia. Then cannot we misse: therefore giue mee thy hand, 

Pris. {advancing). Soft, Ziuia^ take mee with you, it is not good 
in lawe without witnes. 
155 Spe. And as I remember, there must be two witnesses; God giue 
you ioy, Candius^ I was worth the bidding to dinner, though not 
worthy to be of the counsell. 
Pris. I thinke this hot loue hath prouided but cold cheere. 
Spe, Tush! in loue is no lacke; but blush not, Candius^ you 
160 neede not bee ashamed of your cunning : you haue made loue 
a booke case, and spent your time well at schoole, learning to loue 

125 Abestor old eds, F. : asbestos Dil. 134 3 <^\ three (^ Bl. mods. 

137 exorarc Dil. F. : enorare old eds. 138 doret Dil. : dncet oldeds. F. 

140 pace old eds. F. : parse Dil. 148 effectn Dil. F. : efferto old eds, 150 

are] is Q^ BL F. 160 you QQ : and Bl. DU. F. 

182 MOTHER BOMBIE [acti 

by arte, and hate against nature. But I perceiue, the worser childe 
the better louer. 

FHs, And my minion hath wrought well, where euery stitch in 
her sampler is a pricking stitch at my heart : you take your pleasure 165 
on parents, they are peeuish, fooles, churles, ouergrowen with ignor- 
ance> because ouerwome with age : litle shalt thou know tlie case of 
k father, before thy selfe be a mother, when thou shalt breed thy 
/^l1 childe with continuall paines, and bringing it foorth with deadly 
,/ pangs, nurse it with thine owne paps, and nourish it vp with motherly 170 

tendemes ; and then finde them to curse thee with their hearts, when 
they shoulde aske blessing on their knees, and the coUop of thine 
owne bowels to be the torture of thine owne soul ; with teares trick- 
ling downe thy cheeks, and drops of bloud falling from thy heart, 
thou wilt in vttering of thy minde wish them rather vnbome than 175 
vnnatural^ & to haue had their cradles their graues rather than thy 
death their bridals. But I will not dispute what thou shouldst haue 
done, but correct what thou hast done : I perceiue sowing is an idle 
exercise, and that euerie daie there come more thoughtes into thine 
head, than stitches into thy worke ; He see whether you can spin 180 
a better mind than you haue stitched, and if I coope you not vp, 
then let me be the capon. 

Spe. As for you, sir boy, in stead of poaring on a booke, you shall 
holde the plough; He make repentance reape what wantonnesse 
hath sowen. But we are both well serued: the sonnes must bee 185 
masters, the fathers gaffers ; what wee get together with a rake, they 
cast abroade with a forke ; and wee must wearie our l^ges to pur- 
chase our children armes. Well, seeing that booking is but idlenes$e, 
He see whether threshing be anie occupation : thy minde shall stoope 
to my fortune, or mine shall break the lawes of nature. How like 190 
a micher he standes, as though he had trewanted from honestie ! 
Get thee in, and for the rest let me alone. In vilkine ! 

Pris. And you, pretie minx, that must be fed with loue vpon sops, 
He take an order to cram you with sorrowes : get you in without looke 

or reply. Exeunt Candius, Liuia. 195 

Spe, Let vs follow, and deale as rigorously with yours, as I will 
with mine, and you shall see that hot loue wil wax soone colde. He 

163 arte] hetit /*. 169 bringing it foorth Q^ only 17a collops 

(^rest 174 cheeks] checkes (^ 178 sewing Dil. 179 comes 

0' rest 183 poring Dil. 189 stonpe C« £L F, 

sciiij MOTHER BOMBIE i8j 

tame the proud boy, and send him as far from his loue, as hee is Y ^ 
from his duetie. 
soo Pris, Let vs about it, and also go on with matching them to out 
mindes : it was happie that we preuented that by chance, which we 
could neuer yet suspect by circumstance. Exeunt. 

ACT. 2. 

SCE. 1. 

(^Enter at opposite sides) DromIo, Rislo. 

Drom. Now, if I could meete with Risio^ it were a world of 

Ris. Oh that it were my chance, Ohuiam dare Dromio^ to stumble 
vpon Dromio^ on whome I doo nothing but dreame. 
5 Dro. His knauerie and my wit, should make our masters that are 
wise, fooles ; their chidren that are fooles, beggers ; and vs two that 
are bond, free. 

Ris* He to cosin, & I to coniure, would make such alterations, 
that our masters shuld serue themselues ; the ideots, their children, 
10 serue vs ; and we to wake our wits betweene them all. 

Dro. Hem quhm opportune^ looke if he drop not ful in my dish. 
Ris* Lupus in fabula^ Dromio imbrace me, hugge me, kisse my 
hand, I must make thee fortunate. 
Dro. Risio^ honor me, kneele downe to mee, kisse my feet, I must 
15 make thee blessed. 

Ris. My master, olde Steiiio^ hath a foole to his daughter. 
Dro. Nay, my master, old MempMo^ hath a foole to his sonne* 
Ris, I must conuey a contract. 
Dro, And I must conuey a contract 
20 Ris. Betweene her and Memphios sonne, without speaking one to 

Dro. Betweene him and Stellios daughter, without one speaking 
to the other. 
Ris, Doest thou mocke me, Dromio ? 
25 Dro. Thou doest me else. 
Ris. Not I, for all this is true. 

3 obTiam DiL 9 idiots Bl. mods. xa-3 kisse my hand, (^ only a6 
this] that Dil. 


1 84 MOTHER BOMBIE [act 11 

Dro. And all this. 

Ris, Then are we both driuen to our wits endes, for if either of 
them had bin wise, wee might haue tempered, if no marriage, yet 
a close marriage, 30 

Dro. Well, let vs sharpen our accoimts ; ther's no better grind- 
A O Stone for a young mans head than to haue it whet vppon an olde 
mans purse. Oh thou shalt see my knauerie shaue lyke a rasor ! 

Ris^ Thou for the edge, and I the point, wil make the foole 
bestride our mistres backs, and then haue at the bagge with the 35 
dudgin hafte, that is, at the dudgen dagger, by which hanges his 


tantonie pouch, 

JDro. These old huddles haue such strong purses with locks, when 
they shut them they go off like a snaphance. 

Ris. The olde fashion is best, a purse with a ring round about 40 
it, as a circle to course a knaues hande from it But, Dramio^ two 
they saie may keep counsell if one be awaie : but to conuey knauerie, 
two are too few, and foure too many, 

Dro. And in good time, looke where Haifepeme, Speranius boy, 

commeth ; though bound vp in decimo sexto for carriage, yet a wit 45 

in JaUo for coosnage. Single HoUfepenie^ what newes are now 


Enter Kalfepenie. 

Half. Nothing, but that such double coystrels as you be, are 

Ris. Are you so dapper? weele sende you for an Halfepenieso 

Half. I shall goe for siluer though, when you shall bee nailed vp 
for slips. 

Dro. Thou art a slipstring He warrant 

Half I hope you shall neuer slip string, but hang steddie. 55 

Ris. Dromio, looke heere, now is my hand on my halfepenie. 

Half Thou lyest, thou hast not a farthing to laie thy hands on, 
I am none of thine : but let mee bee wagging, my head is full of 
f hammers, & they haue so maletted my wit, that I am almost a 

malcontent 60 

Dro. Why, whats the matter? 

34 wil] we'll F, 36 18, at] eomtrm in all ids, 40 oldel olke Q* 

41 as Q^: is rest conne a/teds. 4a if] is Q^ conuay Bi, A 46 

ia (fVOTX.) QQ I in (ifals,) Bh F. : in folio (rams.) Dil. cootonage Q^i cooten- 
age Bl, F : cozenage Dtl. 


Half* My master hath a fine scholer to his sonne, Prisius a fayre 
lasse to his daughter. 

Dro. WeUI 
65 Half. They two loue one another deadly. 

Ris. In good time. 

Half The fathers haue put them vp, vtterly disliking the match, 
and haue appointed the one shall haxit Memphios sonne, the other 
Steliios daughter; this workes lyke waxe, but how it will fadge in the 
70 end, the hen that sits next the cocke cannot tell. 

JUs. If thou haue but anie spice of knauery^ wele make thee 

Half Tush ! doubt not of mine, I am as full for my pitch as you 
are for yours ; a wrens egge is as ful of meat as a goose eg, though 
75 there be not so much in it : you shal find this head wel stuft, though 
there went little stuife to it 

Dro. Laudo ingenium^ I lyke thy sconce, then harken : Memphlo 
made me of his counsell about marriage of his sonne to Steliios 
daughter; Stellio made Riscio acquainted to plot a match with 
80 Memphios sonne. To be short, they be both fooles. 

Half But they are not fooles that bee short ; if I thought thou 
meantst so. Seniles qui vir sim, Thou shouldst haue a crow to pull. 

Ris. Be not angrie, Halfepenie; for fellowship we will be all 
fooles, and for gaine all knaues. But why doest thou laugh. 
85 Half At mine owne conceit and quicke censure. 

Ris. Whats the matter ? 

Half Sodainly me thought you two were asses, and that the 
least asse was the more asse. 

Ris. Thou art a foole, that cannot be. 
90 Half Yea, my yong master taught me to proue it by learning, 
and so I can out of Ouid by a verse. 

Ris. Prethee how ? 

Half. You must first for fashion sake confes your selues to be 
95 Dro. Well. 

Half Then stand you here, and you there. 

Ris. Go to. 

Half Then this is the verse as I pomt it. Cum mala per longas 
inualuhre moras. So you see the least asse is the more asse. 

77 Lando Q^ Dil. Memphios Q* Bl. : Memphio*8 DU. F. 8a menntst 

QQ : meanest BL F. : mean*it DU. 97 too (>* BL F. 


i86 MOTHER BOMBIfi [act it 

His. Weele bite thee for an ape, if thou bob vs lyke asses. But loo 
to end all, if thou wilt ioyne with vs, we will make a match betweene 
the two fooles, for that must be our tasks ; and thou shalt deuise to 
couple Candius & Liuia^ by ouer-reaching their fathers. 

Half, Let me alone, Non enim mea pigra iuuentus^ there's matter 

in this noddle. 105 

Enter Lucio. 

But looke where Prisius boy comes, as fit as a pudding for a dogs 

Lucio. Pop three knaues in a sheath, He make it a right Tunbridge 
case, and be the bodkin. 

His. Nay, the bodkin is heere alreadie, you must be the knife. no 

Htzif. I am the bodkin, looke well to your eares, I must boare 

Dro. Mew thy tongue, or weele cut it out; this I speake 
Representing the person of a knife^ as thou didst that in shadow of 
a bodkin. 115 

Lucio. I must be gone; Tcedet^ it irketh, Oportet, it behoueth: 
my wits worke like barme, alias yest, alias sizing, alias rising, alias 
Gods good. 

Half. The new wine is in thine head, yet was hee faine to 
take this metaphor from ale; and now you talke of ale^ let vs all 120 
to the wine. 

Dro. Foure makes a messe, and wee haue a messe of masters 
that must be cosned ; let vs lay our heads together, they are married 
and cannot 

Jfaif. Let vs consult at the Taueme, where after to the health of 125 
Metnphio^ drinke we to the life of Stellio^ I carouse to Prisius, & 
brinch you mas Sperantus ; we shall cast vp our accounts, and 
discharge our stomackes, like men that can disgest any thing. 

Lucio. I see not yet what you go about. 

Dro. Lucio^ that can pearce a mud wall of twentie foote thicke, 130 
would make vs beleeue he cannot see a candle through a paper 
lanthome ; his knauerie is beyond Ela^ & yet he sayes he knowes not 
Gam vt. 

100 thee Q^ only 104 iunentusl %,e, juTentus: iniientns oldeds, F, (a turned 
n) : hence inveotio Z>f7. 108, 116 Lac. Dil.F. : lAVL.0Uleds. 116 irketh, Q^ 
DiL\ liketh. (? Bl, F. 117 to before worke Q^ Bl. mods,, owing to (^ om, 

itop at behoaeth 123 cofiied ^ : cosoned (^\ cooiened Bl. F. : cozened DU. 
127 cast vp Bl. mods.} cast ts QQ ; but cf v. i. 3. 

te.i] MOTHER B0MBI£ 187 

Lucio. I am readie : if anie cosnage be ripe, He shake the 
135 tree. 

Half* Nay, I hope to see thee so strong, to shake three trees at 

Dro. Wee bume time, for I must giue a reckning of my dayes 
worke; let vs close to (to) the bush ixd deliberandum. 
140 Half. In deede Inter pocula philosophandum^ it is good to plea 
among pots. 

J^is. Thine will be the worst ; I feare we shall leaue a halfepenie 
in hand. 

Half Why sayest thou that ? thou hast left a print deeper in thy 
145 hand alreadie than a halfpenie canne leaue, vnles it should sing worse 
than an hot 3nx>n. 

Lucio. All friendes, and so let vs sing : tis a pleasant thing to goe 
into the taueme cleering the throate. 


Ontnes. TO Bacchus/ To thy Table 

Thou calFst euery drunken Rabble, 


We already are stifTe Drinkers, 
Then seale vs for thy iolly Skinckers. 
Dro. Wine, O Wine! 

O luyce Diuine! 
le^ How do'st thou the Nowle refine! 

J^ts* Plump thou mak'st mens Rubie faces, 
And from Girles canst fetch embraces, 
Nal/i By thee our Noses swell, 

With sparkling Carbuncle. 
i5o Luc. O the deare bloud of Grapes, { ^ ^ 

Tumes us to Anticke shapes 
Now to shew trickes like Apes. 
Dro, Now Lion-like to rore. 

/^is. Now Goatishly to whore. 

i(t^ Half. Now Hoggishly ith' mire. 

Luc. Now flinging Hats ith' fire. 

Omnes. Id Bacchus/ at thy Table, 

Make vs of thy Reeling Rabble. 

Exeunt (Jnto taverti). 

140 philosophandam, BLmods,\ philosophundnm QQ X44 ^liy, layest 

thou that thou all eds, S. D. SoNG, 8tQ.Jirst in Blount. QQ have not even 


i88 MOTHER BOMBIE [actii 

ScE. 2. 

Enter Memphio alone. 

Metnp, I maruell I heare no newes of Dromio ; either he slackes 

the matter, or betrayes his master ; I dare not motion anie thing to 

Stellio^ till I knowe what my boy hath don ; He hunt him out, if the 

loitersacke be gone springing into a taueme, He fetch him reeling 

out Exit {into tavern), 5 

Enter Stellio alone. 

Stel, Without doubt Hisio hath gone beyond himselfe, in casting 
beyond the Moone ; I feare the boy be runne mad with studying, for 
I know hee loued me so well, that for my fauour hee will venture to 
runne out of his wits ; and it may be, to quicken his inuention, hee 
is gone into this luy-bush, a notable neast for a grape owle. He 10 
iirret him out, yet in the end vse him friendly : I cannot be merrie 
till I heare whats done in the marriages. Exit {into tavern). 

Enter Prisius alone. 

Pris. I thinke Lucio be gone a squirelling, but H6 squirell him 

for it : I sent him on my arrande, but I must goe for an answere my 

selfe. I haue tied vp the louing worme my daughter, and will see 15 

whether fansie can worme faosie out of her head. This green nose- 

gaie I feare my boy hath smelt to, for if he get but a penny in his 

purse, he tumes it sodainly into Argentum potabile ; I must search 

euery place for him, for I stand on thomes till I heare what he hath 

done. Eocit {into tavern). 20 

Enter Sperantus alone. 

Spe. Well, be as bee may is no banning. I thinke I haue 
charmde my yong master : a hungry meale, a ragged coate, & a drie 
cudgell, haue put him quite beside his loue and his logick too besides 
his pigsnie is put vp, & therefore now He let him take the aire, and 
follow Stellios daughter with all his learning, if he meane to be my 25 
heire. The boy hath wit sance measure, more than needs; cats 
meat & dogs meate inough for the vantage. Well, without Halfe- 
penie all my witte is not woorth a dodkin: that mite is miching 
in this groue, for as long as his name is Halfepenie^ he will bee 
banquetting for the other Halfpenie. Eocit {into tavern). 30 

5 s. D. Exeunt (^ Bl. 11 finet M eds. F.x ferret Dil. 17 to] too 

(^ Bl. F. 18 10 bdan niddminly Q* : so snddcnly BL mods. 23 too] 

to Q^ 34 hb ^ cmy a6 sance old eds. F. : sans Dil. 30 the other 
Bl. mods. : thether ^: tbother (^ 

sciii] MOTHER BOMBIE 189 

Candius, Silena. 

{Enter Candius.) 

Can, He must needs goe that the deuill driues! a father? 
a fiend I that seekes to place affection by appointment, & to force 
loue by compulsion. I have swome to woo Sylena^ but it shall be 
so coldly, that she shall take as small delight in my wordes, as I do 
5 contentment in his commandement He teach him one schoole 
tricke in loue. But behold, who is that that commeth out of SUllios 
house ? it should seem to be Silena by her attire. 

Enter Silena. 

By her face I am sure it is she, oh fiaire face ! oh louely counten- 
ance! How now, CandiuSy if thou begin to slip at beautie on 

10 a sodaine, thou wilt surfet with carousing it at the last. RemSber 
that Liuia is faithfull ; I, and let thine eyes witnesse Siiena is 
amiable! Heere shall I please my father and my selfe: I wyll 
leame to be obedient, & come what will. He make a way ; if shee 
seeme coy, He practise all the arte of loue, if I (finde) her coming, all 

15 the pleasures of loue. 

SiL My name is Siiena^ I care not who knowe it, so I doo not : 
my father keeps me close, so he does ; and now I baue stolne out, 
so I haue, to goe to olde Mother Bambie to know my fortune, so 
I wil ; for I haue as fayre a face as euer trode on shoo sole, and as 

ao free a foote as euer lookt with two eyes. 

Can, {aside). \Vhat? I thinke she is lunatike or foolish ! Thou 
art a foole, Candius ; so faire a face cannot bee the scabbard of 
a foolish minde ; mad she may bee, for commonly in beautie so rare, 
there fals passions extreame. Loue and beautie disdaine a meane, 

35 not therefore because beautie is no vertue, but because it is happi- 
nes ; and we schollers know that vertue is not to be praised, but 
honored. I wil put on my best grace. — {To Silena.) Sweete 
wench, thy face is louely, thy bodie comely, & all that the eyes 
can see inchanting ! you see how, vnacquainted, I am bold to 

30 boord you. 

4 shall (^ only 13 a way Dil, F, : away oldeds, 14 if I finde her 

coming] if I her cnnning oldeds, : if canning Dil, F,^ the former proposing coining 
for cunning in a note 18 Mother Q^ only 21 lunatike oldeds, : lunatic 

Dil, : a lonaticke F, 


Si/, My father boordes mee alreadie, therefore I care not if your 
name were Geoffrey. 

Can, Shee raues, or ouer-reaches. — I am one, sweet soule, that 
loues you, brought hether by reporte of your beautie, and here 
languisheth with your rarenesse. 35 

.SrV. I thanke you that you would call. 

Can, I will alwaies call on such a saint that hath power to release 
my sorrowes ; yeeld, fayre creature, to loue. 

^7. I am none of that sect 

Can, The louing sect is an auncient sect, and an honorable, and 40 
therefore (loue) should bee in a person so perfect. 

&7. Much! 

Can, I loue thee much, giue mee one worde of comfort. 

Sil, I faith, sir, no ! and so tell your master. 

Can, I haue no master, but come to make choise of a mistres. 45 

Sil, A ha, are you there with your beares ? 

Can. {aside), Doubtles she is an idiot of the newest cut ! He 
once more trye hir. — I have loued thee long, Silena, 

Sil, In your tother hose. 

Can, {aside}. Too simple to be naturall : too senslesse to bee fo 
arteficiall. — ^You sayd you went to know your fortune : I am a scholler, 
and am cunning in palmistry. 

Sil. The better for you, sir; heres my hand, whats a clocke? 

Can, The line of life is good, Fenus mount very perfect; you 
shall haue a schoUer to your first husband. 55 

Si/, You are well scene in cranes durt, your father was a poulter. 
Ha, ha, hal 

Can. Why laugh you ? 

Si/. Because you should see my teeth. 

Can, {aside}, Alas, poore wench, I see now also thy folly ; a 60 
fiEtyre foole is lyke a fresh weed, pleasing leaues and soure iuyce. 
I will not yet leaue her, shee may dissemble. — {A/oud,) I cannot 
choose but loue thee. 

Si/, I had thought to aske you. 

Can, Nay then farewell, either too proud to accept, or too simple 65 
to vnderstand. 

Si/, You need not bee so crustie, you are not so hard bakt. 

40 The (^i Thy rest 41 loue here first 47 [aside] this and the 

two asides below marked first in Dilke 56 cranes] caznes Q^ 61 leaves} 

leases, Q* Bl, F, spoiling sense 65 too*] to (^ 67 bakt] so I correct 

backt ofoldeds. F. : baked Dil. 


Can, Now I perceiue thy folly, who hath rakt together all the 

odde blinde phrases, that helpe them that knowe not howe to dis- 

70 course ; but when they cannot aunswere wisely, eyther with gybing 

couer their rudenesse, or by some newe coyned by-word bewraie 

theyr peeuishnesse. I am glad of this : now shall I have coulour to 

refuse the match, and my father reason to accept of Liuia : I will 

home, and repeate to my father oure wise incounter, and hee shall 

75 perceiue there is nothing so fulsome as a shee foole. JExif. 

Si/. Good God, I thinke Gentlemen had neuer lesse wit in a 

yeere. Wee maides are madde wenches; we gird them and flout 

them out of all scotch and notch, and they cannot see it. I will 

knowe of the olde woman whether I bee a maide or no, and then, 

^ if I bee not, I must needes be a man. (^Knocks at Mother Bombie's 

door,) God be heere. 

Enter Mother Bombie. 
Bom, Whose there ? 
.S/7. One that would be a maide. 

Bom, If thou be not, it is impossible thou shuldst be, and a shame 
S5 thou art not. 

SU, They saie you are a witch. 
Bom, They lie, I am a cunning woman. 
&7. Then tell mee some thing. 
Bom, Holde vp thy hande ; not so high : — 
9® Thy father knowes thee not, 

Thy mother bare thee not, 
Falsely bred, truely begot: 
Choise of two husbands, but neuer tyed in bandes, 
Because of loue and naturall bondes. 
95 SU, I thanke you for nothing, because I vnderstand nothing: 
though you bee as olde as you are, yet am I as younge as I am, and 
because that I am so fayre, therefore are you so fowle ; & so farewell 
frost, my fortune naught me cost Eocit, 

Bom, Farewell faire foole, little doest thou know thy hard fortune, 
100 but in the end thou shalt, & that must bewraie what none can 
discouer : in the mean season I wil professe cunning for all commers. 


68 rackt ^- Bl, F. : raked Dil, 71 by-word Bl, mods, : bny worde QQ 

76 Sil. nil. F, : Liu. o/dgds, 84 shuldst Q^ : should Q'^ BL F, : Dil, italicizes 

be not, shouldst be, and zxi not 90-4 Thy father . . . bondes] this and the 

other oracles of Mother Bombie (iii. i and ^^ v. 2), printed as continuous prose in old 
eds.j luere arranged according to the doggrel rhyme by Dilke in 1814 92 

falsely QQ Dil, x falsly Bl, : Fastly F. 

.^ f> 

19? MOTHER BOMBIE [actii 

SCE. 4. 

(^Enter) Dromio, Risio, Lucio, Halfepenie. 

Dro, We were all taken tardie. 

Jiis, Our masters will be ouertaken if they tarry. 

Half. Now must euerie one by wit make an excuse, and everie 
excuse must bee coosnage. 

Lucio. Let vs remember our complot 5 

Dro. We will all plod on that ; oh the wine hath tumd my wit 
to vineger. 

Ris. You meane tis sharpe. 

Half. Sharpe? He warrant twill seme for as good sauce to 
knauerie as — lo 

Lucio. As what ? 

Half. As thy knauerie meat for his wit. 

Dro. We must all giue a reckning for our dayes trauell. 

Jiis. Tush! I am glad we scapt the reckning for our liquor. If 
you be examined how we met, sweare by chance; for so they met, 15 
and therefore will beleeue it: if how much we drunke, let them 
answere them selues ; they know best because they paid it. 
' Half. We must not tarry, adeundum est tnihi^ I must go and cast 

this matter in a comer. 

Dro. Iprct^ sequar; a bowle, and He come after with a broome ; ao 
euerie one remember his que. 

J^is. I, and his k, or else we shall thriue ill. 

Half When shall we meete ? 

Ris. To morrow, fresh and fasting. 

Dro. Fast eating our meate, for we haue dmnke for to morow, 35 
& to morow we must eat for to day. 

Half. Away, away, if our masters take vs here, the matter is 

Lucio. Let vs euerie one to his taske. Exeunt 

ScE. 5. 

{Enter) Memphio, Steluo, Prisius, Sperantus. 

Memp. How luckily we met on a sodaine in a taueme, that 
dmnke not together almost these thirtie yeeres. 

I were ^: ftre rest la knauerie QQ\ knanerie's rest ao Dro. om, 

old eds, : supplied Dil. F. I presequar Q}- : Ipreseqnam Q^ Bl. : I, prse sequar 
Dil. F. a I cue Dil. 39 vs om. Dil, 1 Inck&y Q}^ : quickly rest 


SUL A taueme is the Randeuous, the Exchange, the staple for 

good fellowes : I haue heard my great grandfather tell how his great 

5 grandfather shoulde saie, that it was an olde prouerbe, when his greate 

grandfEither was a childe^ that it was a good winde that blew a man 

to the wine. 

Pris. The olde time was a good time! Ale was an ancient 

drinke, and accounted of our ancestors autentical ; Gascone wine 

TO was liquor for a Lord^ Sack a medicine for the sicke ; and I may 

tell you, he that had a cup of red wine to his oysters, was hoysted in 

the Queenes subsidie booke. 

Spe. I, but now ^you see to what loosenes this age is growen, our 

boies carouse sack like double beere, and saith that which doth an 

15 old man good, can do a yong man no harme : old men (say they) eat 

pap, why shoulde not children drinke sacke ? their white heads haue 

cosned time out of mind our ydg yeres. 

Memp. Well ! the world is wanton since I knew it first ; our boyes 

put as much nowe in their bellies in an houre, as would cloath theyr 

20 whole bodies in a yeere: wee haue paide for their tipling eight 

shillinges, and as I haue hearde, it was as much as bought Rufus^ 

sometime king of this land, a paire of hose. 

Pris. 1st possible ? 

SteL Nay, tis true; they saie Ale is out of request, tis hogges / 
35 porredge, broth for beggers, a caudle for cimstables, watchmens 
mouth glew ; the better it is, the more like bird lime it is, and neuer 
makes one staid but in the stockes. 

Metnp, He teach my wag-halter to know grapes from barley. 

Pris. And I mine to discerne a spigot from a faucet 
30 Spt. And I mine to iudge the difference between a black boule 
and a siluer goblet 

Siel, And mine shall learne the oddes betweene a stand and 
a hogs-head; yet I cannot choose but laugh to see how my wag 
aunswered mee, when I stroke him for drinking sacke. 
35 Pris, Why what sayd he? 

Sttl, ' Master, it is the soueraigntest drinke in the world, and the 
safest for all times and weathers ; if it thunder, though all the Ale 
and Beere in the towne tume, it will be constant ; if it lighten, and 

9 authentical Bl. mods, Gascoyne Bl, F, : Gascoign Dil, 14 taith 

QQ. '" say* B^' mods, 16 children O*: young men rest {cf, v. 3. 236) 17 

cosned (^ : counted rest 19 nowe ^ : wine rest 20-1 wee haue j>aide . . . 
shillinges (^ only 34 strooke C* rest 36-43 inv, com, first F. 




194 MOTHER BOMBIE [actii/sc. v 

that any fire come to it, it is the aptest wine to bum, and the most 
wholesomest when it is burnt. So much for Summer. If it freeze, 40 
why it is so hot in operation, that no Ise can congeale it ; if it 
rayne, why then he that cannot abide the heate of it, may put in 
water. So much for winter.* And so ranne his way, but He ouer- 
take him. 

Sfe. Who woulde thinke that my hoppe on my thumbe, 45 
Jlalf^niey scarse so high as a pint pot, wold reason the matter? 
but hee leamde his leere of my sonne, his young master, whom 
I haue brought vp at Oxford, and I thinke must leame heere in 
Kent at Ashford. 

ATemp, Why what sayd he ? 50 

Sfe. Hee boldly rapt it out. Sine Cerere &* Baccho friget Venus, 
without wine and sugar his veins wold waxe colde. 

Memp, They were all in a pleasant vaine 1 But I must be gone, 
and take account of my boyes businesse ; farewell, neighbours, God 
knowes when we shall meete againe ! — {Aside.") Yet I have dis- 55 
couered nothing : my wine hath been my wittes friende, I longe to 
beare what Dramio hath done. Exit 

Siel. I cannot staie, but this good fellowshippe shall cost mee the 
setting on at our next meeting.— (^5/V/(f.) I am gladde I blabd 
nothing of the marriage, now I hope to compas it I know my boy 60 
hi^th bin bungling about it Exit 

Fris, Let vs all goe, for I must to my clothes that hang on the 
tenters : {Aside,) my boy shall hang with them, if hee aunswere mee 
not his dayes worke. Exit 

Spe. If all bee gone, He not staie : Halfepenie I am sure hath done 65 
mee a pennie woorth of good, else He spend his bodie in buying 
a rod. Exit 

ACT. 3. 

dCS. 1. 

{Enter) MiESTius. Serena. 

Mastius. Sweet sister, I know not how it commeth to passe, but 
I finde in my selfe passions more than brotherly. 
Ser. And I, deare brother, finde my thoughts intangled with 

49 at ^ : of rest 51 Cerext Dil, : Cere old tds, F. 55-63 the asides here 
Jirst marked in Dilke 

Acriii,sci] MOTHER BOMBIE: 195 

affections beyonde nature, which so flame into my distempered head, 
5 that I can neither without danger smother the fire, nor without 
modestie disclose my furie. 

Mast Our parents are pore, our loue vnnaturall : what can then 
happen to make vs happie ? 

Ser. Onely to be content with our fathers mean estate, to combat 
10 against our own intemperate desires, and yeld to the succes of 
fortune, who though she hath framd vs miserable, cannot make vs 

Mast It is good counsel, faire sister, if the necessitie of loue. 
could be releeued by counsell. Yet this is our comfort, that these 
15 vnnaturall heates haue stretched themselues no further than thoughts. 
Vnhappie me that they should stretch so ! r 

Ser. That which nature warranteth laws forbid. Straunge it 
seemeth in sense, that because thou art mine, therefore thou must 
not be mine. 
20 Mast. So it is, Serena ; the neerer we are in bloud, the further 

wee must be from loue ; and the greater the kindred is, the lesse ; -, 5 
the kindnes must be ; so that between brothers &: sisters superstition 
hath made affection cold, between strangers custome hath bred loue 
35 Ser. They say there is hard by an old cunning woman, who can 
tell fortunes, expound dreames, tell of things that be lost, and deuine 
of accidents to come : she is called the good woman, who yet neuer 
did hurt. 
Mcest. Nor anie good, I thmke, Serena; yet to satisfie thy mipde 
30 we will see what she can saie. 
Ser. Good brother let vs. 
Mast Who is within ? 

Enter Mother Bombie. 

Bom. The dame of the house ! 

Mast. She might haue said the beldam, for her face, and yeeres, 
35 and attire. 

Ser. Good mother tell vs, if by your cunning you can, what shall 
become of my brother and me. 

4 into] in Dil. 5 without*] with Dil. 9 comhat Q^ 17-9 Ser. 

That ... be mine. (^ only. Dil. suspecting error in Q* Bl. prefixed Ser. to Yet 
this . . . stretch so in preceding speech. F. gave the true reading from Q^ in his 

O 2 

[■>/ ' 

t96 MOTHER BOMBIE [actiii 

Bom, Let me see your hands, and looke on me stedfastly with 
your eyes. 

You shall be married to morow hand in hand, ¥^ 

By the lawes of God, Nature, & the land, 

Your parents shall be glad, & giue you their lande, 

You shal each of you displace a foole. 

& both together must releeue a foole. 

If this be not true, call me olde foole. 45 

Mast This is my sister, marrie we cannot : our parents are poore, 
and haue no land to giue vs : each of vs is a foole to come for counsell 
to such an olde foole. 
\\, &r. These doggrell rimes and obscure words, comming out of 

^ *" the mouth of such a weather-beate witch, are thought diuinations 5® 

of some holy spirite, being but dreames of decayed braines : for mine 
owne parte, I would thou mightest sit on that stoole, till he & I marrie 
by lawe. 

Bom, I saie Mother Bombie neuer speakes but once, and yet neuer 
spake vntruth once. 55 

Ser, Come, brother, let vs to our poore home; this is our 
comfort, to bewraie our passions, since we cannot inioy our loue. 

Mast, Content, sweet sister ; and learne of me hereafter, that 
these olde sawes of such olde hags, are but false fires to leade one 
out of a plaine path into a deepe pit Exeunt, 6o 

ScE. 2. 

Dromio. Risio. Halfepenie. Luceo. 
{Enter Dromio and Riscio.) 

Dro, Ingenium quondam fuerat pretiosius aura : the time was 
wherein wit would worke like waxe, and crock vp golde like honnie. 

Eis, At nunc barbaries grandis habere nihil^ but nowe wit and 
honestie buy nothing in the market. 

Dro, What Eisio^ how spedst thou after thy potting? 5 

EU, Nay, my master rong all in the taueme, & thrust all out in 
the house. But how spedst thou ? 

Dro, I, it were a dayes worke to discourse it : he spake nothing 

41 hy QQ\ and by BL mods, God, nature (^ BL mods. : good nature (^ 

45 then Ufore call Q^ Bl, mods, 57 to bewraie so alli qy, ? not to bewrmie 
inioy our lone (^; enioy them rest ScB. 2] See. Z (? BL i 

pretiosins Bl, F, : pretiotins QQ : pretiosns DU, 3 barbaries] barbarie est 

QQ Bl, F, : barbana est DU, 6 rang BL mods.] MOTHER BOMBIE 197 

but sentences, but they were vengible long ones, for when one word 
xo was out, hee made pause of a quarter long, till he spake another. 
Jits. Why what did he in all that time ? 
Dro. Breake interiections lyke winde, as eho^ ho^ to, 
Ms, And what thou ? 

I?ro, Aunswere him in his owne language, as euax, vah^ hut, 
15 Ms. These were coniunctions rather than interiections. But what 
of the plot ? 

Dro, As we concluded, I tolde him that I vnderstood that Siiena 

was verie wise, and could sing exceedingly; that my deuise was, 

seeing ^^aW his sonne a proper youth, & could also sing sweetly, that 

ao he should come in the nicke when she was singing, and answere her. 

Jits, Excellent! 

J)ro, Then hee asked how it should be deuised that she might 

come abroade : I tolde (him) that was cast alreadie by my meanes : 

then the song beeing ended, and they seeing one another, noting the 

25 apparell, and marking the personages, he should call in his sonne for 

feare he should ouer-reach his speech. 

Ris, Very good. 

J)ro, Then that I had gotten a young Gentleman, that resembled 

his sonne in yeeres and fauour, that hauing Accius apparell should 

30 court Siiena ; whome shee finding wise, would after that by small 

intreatie be won without mo wordes ; & so the marriage clapt vp by 

this cosnage, and his sonne neuer speake word for himselfe. 

Jits, Thou boy ! so haue I done in euerie point, for the song, the 

calling her in, & the hoping that another shall woo Accius^ and his 

35 daughter wed him. I told him this wooing should be to night, and 

they early marryed in the morning, without anie wordes sauing to 

saie after the Priest. 

Dro, All this fodges well ! now if JIalfpenie and Imcco haue 
playde theyr partes, wee shall haue excellent sporte — and here they 
40 come. Howe wrought the wine, my lads ? 

Enter Halfpenie, Luceo. 
JIalf, How ? like wine, for my bodie being the rundlet, and my 
mouth the vent, it wrought two daies ouer, till I had thought the 
hoopes of my head woulde haue flowen asunder. 

10 a quarter long so atl^ se, of an hour la eho, ho, to. (to roms^ Bl, : a$ui so 

QQ {ail romans) : eho, ho, o. («// Uais,) DU, ij VQ^i wc rest 19 &, om, 

Dil 23 h\m om, old eds.Dtl, 35 marking Q': thanking frx/ 31 mo^^: 

my Q* BL : any Dil. : many F, 33 spake F, 38 fodges QQ here and 

//. 204, 210: todges Bl, mods, 39 cxccellen t Q^ 

198 MOTHER BOMBIE [actiii 

Lucio, The best was, our masters were as well whitled as we, for 
yet they lie by it. 45 

Ris. The better for vs ! we dyd but a little parboile our liuers, 
they haue sod theyrs in sacke these fortie yeeres. 

Half, Tliat makes them spit white broth as they doo. But to the 
purpose. Candius and Uuia will send their attires, you must send 
the apparell of Accius and Sikna ; they wonder wherefore, but 50 
commit the matter to our quadrapertit wit. 

Lucio, If you keepe promise to marrie them by your deuice, and 
their parents consent, you shall haue tenne pounds a peece for your 

Dro, If wee doo it not wee are vndone ! for we haue broacht 55 
a cosnage alreadie, and my master hath the tap in his hand, that it 
must needs runne out. Let th6 be ruld, and bring hether their 
apparell, and we wil determine; the rest commit to our intricate 
considerations: depart 

Exeunt Halfepenie, Luceo. Enter Accius and Silena. 

Dro. Here comes Accius tuning his pipes. I perceiue my master 60 
keepes touch. 
»^ Ris, And here comes Silena with her wit of proofe ! marie it will 
scarse holde out question shot : let vs in to instruct our masters in 
the que. 

Dro. Come let vs be iogging : but wert not a world to heare them 65 
woe one another ? 

Ris. That shall be hereafter to make vs sport, but our masters 
shall neuer know it. Exeunt, 

Accius and Silena singing. 

Sil. /^ Cupid! Monarch ouer Kings, 

^<J Wherefore hast thou feete and wings? 

It is to shew how swift thou art, 

When thou wound'st a tender heart : 

Thy wings being clip'd, and feete held still, 5 

Thy Bow so many could not kill. 

51 qoadrapertite BL F, : qnadrnpaitite Dii. 53 their Q^ DiL : your rest 

60 MaBten BL : master's F, 63 oat Q' : onr rest 64 the que ^^ A : the Q Bl, : 
their cne Dil, 66 woo Bl, mods, to Ufore another Dil, s. D. Exeunt. Sc. 8 . . . 
sinking. I follow F*s suggested emendation ; QQ have Exeunt. Memphio and 
Stellio singing. Act. 8. Sc. 8. Memphio and SteUio om, the song: Bl, Dil, F, insert 
before announcing scene Song and words {first 6 //. to Memp., rest to Stel.) 


Aec. It is all one in Vemts wanton schoole, '^ 

Who highest sits, the wise man or the foole: 
Fooles in loues colledge 
10 Haue farre more knowledge. 

To leade a woman ouer. 
Than a neate prating loner. 

Nay, tis confest, 
That fooles please women best. 

(^Enfet} Memphio oyi^STELLio. 

15 Afem. Acdus come in, and that quickly ! what ! walking without 

Stei. Siiena, I praie you looke homeward, it is a colde aire, and 
you want your mufler. Exeunt Accius & Silkna* 

Mem. {aside). This is pat ! if the rest proceed, Sfe//io is like to 
ao marrie his daughter to a foole ; but a bargen is a bargen ! 

Sfe/. {aside). This frames to my wish ! Memphio is like to 

marrie a foole to his sonne \ Accius tongue shall tie all MempJuos 

land to Silenas dowrie, let his fathers teeth vndoo them if hee can : 

but heere I see Memphio. I must seeme kind, for in kindnes lies 

35 cosnage. 

Mem. {aside). Wei, here is Stellio; He talke of other matters, 
& flie from the marke I shoot at, lapwing-like flying far from the 
place where I nestle. {Aloud.) Stellio^ what make you abroad ? 
I heard you were sicke since our last drinking. 
30 Siel. You see reports are no truths : I heard the. like of you, & 
we are both well. I perceiue sober men tel most lies, for in vino 
veritcu. If they had drunke wine, they would haue tolde the truth. 

Mem. Our boies will be sure then neuer to lie, for they are euer 
swilling of wine : but Stellio, I must straine cursie with you ; I haue 
35 busines, I cannot stay. 

Stel. In good time, Memphio! for I was about to craue your 
patience to departe ; it stands me vppon. — {Aside.) Perhaps (I may) 
moue his patience ere it be long. 
Mem. {aside). Good silly Stel. we must buckle shortly. 


18 yoar Q^\ a rest a 8 makes Dil. 31 in (romans) all eds. 34 cnnie 
old cds. : curgy Dtl. : cur'iie A 37 [I may] F,*s insertion 37, 39 tkese 

two asides suppl. Dilke 

200 MOTHER BOMBIE [act in 

ScE. 4. 

Halfepenie. Luceo. Rixula. Dromio. Risio. 

(^Enttr Halfpenny with clothes belonging to Candius, Lucio and 

Rixula with clothes belonging to Livia.) 

Lucio. Come, Rixula^ wee haue made thee priuie to the whole 
packe, there laie downe the packe. 

^Rix, I beleeue vnlesse it be better handled, wee shall out of 

Half, I care not, Omnem solum fortipatria^ I can liue in christen- 5 
dome as well as in Kent. 

Lucio, And He sing Patria vbicunque bene; euerie house is my 
home, where I may stanch hunger. 

Rix, Nay^ if you set all on hazard, though I be a pore wench 
I am as hardie as you both ; I cannot speake Latine, but in plaine 10 
English, if anie thing fall out crosse. He runne away. 

Half, He loues thee well that would runne after. 

Rix. Why, Halfpenie^ there's no goose so gray in the lake, that 
cannot finde a gander for her make. 

Ludo. I loue a nutbrowne lasse, tis good to recreate. 15 

Half. Thou meanest, a browne nut is good to crack. 

Lucio. Why wold it not do thee good to crack such a nut ? 

Half I feare she is worm-eaten within, she is so moth-eaten 

Rix. If you take your pleasure of mee, He in and tell your 20 
practises against your masters. 

Half In faith, soure heart, hee that takes his pleasure on thee is 
verie pleasurable. 

Rix. You meane knauishly, and yet I hope foule water will 
quench hot fire as soone as fayre. 25 

Half Well then, let fayre wordes coole that cholar, which foule 
speeches hath kindled ; and because we are all in this case, and hope 
all to haue good fortune, sing a roundelay, and weele helpe, — such as 
thou wast woont when thou beatedst hempe. 

Lucio, It was crabbs she stampt, and stole away one to make her 33 
a face. 

Rix, I agree, in hope that the hempe shall come to your wearing : 

I the ^: our rtst 5 onmtDil, stupidly 10 cannon Q^ 16 

bnwne F. 37 tpeeches Qf^ : words rest 29 beatest QQ 


a halfepenie halter may hang you both, that is, Halfepeny and you 
may hang in a halter. 
35 Half. Well brought about. 

Rix. Twill when ds about your necke. 

Ludo. Nay, now shees in she will neuer out. 

Rix, Nor when your heads are in, as it is lykely, they should 

not come out But barken to my song. 


40 Rix. T7^^^ ^^^ ^ ^^^ sweate, 

^ When hempe I did beate, 
Then thought I of nothing but hanging; 
The hempe being spun, 
My beating was done; 
45 Then I wish'd for a noyse 

Of crack-halter Boyes, 
On those hempen strings to be twanging. 
Long lookt I about, 
The City throughout, — 
50 The Pages, And fownd no such fidling varlets. 
Rix. Yes, at last comming hither, 

I saw foure together. 
The Pages. May thy hempe choake such singing harlots. 
Rix. To whit to whoo, the Owle docs cry ; 
55 Phip, phip, the sparrowes as they fly; 

The goose does hisse; the duck cries quack; 
A Rope the Parrot, that holds tack. 
The Pages. The parrat and the rope be thine 

Rix. The hanging yours, but the hempe mine. 

Enter Dromio, Risio {carrying doihes of Accius and Silena 


60 Dro. Yonder stands the wags, I am come in good time. 
Ris. All here before me ! you make hast 

Rix. I beleeue, to hanging ; for I thinke you haue all robd your 
masters : heres euery man his baggage. 

Half That is, we are all with thee, for thou art a verie 
65 baggage. 

Rix. Hold thy peace, or of mine honesty He buy an halfpenie 
purse with thee. 

s. D. Cantant QQ Bl F. : cm, JDii, : Bi, atone o/ddeds, gives the song 50. 

53, 58 The Pages] 4 Pag. BL : The Men Dit. : a Pag. F. 60 stand Dil. 66 
Rix. QQDil.i KLBt.i Ris. F. 

202 MOTHER BOMBIE [actiii 

Dro. In deed thats big inough to put thy honesty in. But come, 
shall we go about the matter ? 

Lucio, Now it is come to the pinch my heart pants. 70 

Half. I for my part am resolute, in uirumque paratus^ redie to 
die or to runne away. 

LmcIo, But, heare me ! I was troubled with a vile dream, and 
therefore it is little time spent to let Mother Bomhy expound it : she 
is cunning in all things. 75 

Dro. Then will I know my fortune. 

Rix, And He aske for a siluer spoone which was lost last daie, 
which I must pay for. 

Ris. And He know what wil become of our deuices. 

Haff, And I! 8<» 

Dro. Then let vs all go quickly; we must not sleep in this 
busines, our masters are so watchfuU about it. 

< They knock at Bombie's door. Enter Mother Bombie.) 

Bom. Why do you rap so hard at the doore ? 

Dro. Because we would come in. 

Bom. Nay, my house is no Inne. S5 

Half. Crosse your selues, looke how she lookes. 

Dro. Marke her not, sheele tume vs all to Apes. 

Bom. What would you with me ? 

Ris. They say you are cunning, & are called the good woman of 
Rochester. 9^ 

Bom. If neuer to doo harme, be to doo good, I dare saie I am 
not ill. But whats the matter ? 

Lucio. I had an ill dream, & desire to know the significatiO. 

Bom. Dreames, my sonne^ haue their weight : though they be of 
a troubled minde, yet are they signes of fortune. Say on. 95 

LuciOn In the dawning of the day, — for about that time by my 
starting out of my sleepe, I found it to bee, — mee thought I sawe 
a stately peece of beefe, vrith a cape cloke of cabidge, imbrodered 
with pepper ; hauing two honorable pages ¥rith hats of mustard on 
their heades ; himselfe in greate pompe sitting vppon a cushion of 100 
white Brewish, linde with browne Breade; me thought being 
poudred, he was much trobled with the salt rume ; & therfore there 

70 pinch] pitch F. 71 atmmqne Dil. : ytnuia. oldeds. s. D. [They 

knock . . . MoTHsa Bombik] u^liid Dil. 87 Dro. Q^ F. : rest omit, 

prinHng speech as part of Half. '^^ 93 *&] <l 6^ loa rheum i9i7. 

saiv] MOTHER BOMBIE 203 

stood by him two great flagons of sacke and beere, the one to drie 
vp his nune, the other to quench his cholar. I as one enuying his 
105 ambition, hungring and thirsting after his honor, began to pull his 
cushi6 fr6 vnder him, hoping by that means to giue him a fall ; & 
with putting out my hand awakt, & found nothing in all this 
dreame about me but the salt rume. 
Dro. A dreame for a butcher. 
no Ludo. Soft^ let me end it! — then I slumbred againe, & me 
thought there came in a leg of mutton. 
Dro, What ! all grosse meat? a racke had bene daintie. 
Lucio, Thou foole ! how could it come in, vnlesse it had bin a leg ? 
me thought his hose were cut & drawen out with parsly, I thrust my 
115 hand into my pocket for a knife, thinking to hoxe him, and so awakt. 
Bam, Belyke thou wentst supperlesse to bed. 
Lucio, So I doo euerie night but sundaies : Prisius hath a weake 
stomacke, and therefore we must starue. 
Bom, Well, take this for answere, though the dream be fantas- 
120 ticall; — 

They that in the morning sleep dream of eating. 

Are in danger of sicknesse, or of beating, 
Or shall heare of a wedding fresh a beating. 
Lucio, This may be true, 
las Half, Nay then let me come in with a dreame, short but sweet, 
that my mouth waters euer since I wakt. Me thought there sate 
vpon a shelfe three damaske prunes in veluet caps and prest satten 
gownes like ludges ; and that there were a whole handfull of curants 
to be araigned of a riot, because they cluged together in such clusters ; 
130 twelue raisons of the sunne were impannelled in a lewry, and, as 
a leafe of whole mase, which was bailief, was carrying the quest to 
consult, me thoght ther came an angrie cooke, and gelded the lewry 
of theyr stones, and swept both iudges, iurers, rebels, and bailiefe, 
into a porredge pot ; whereat I beeing melancholy, fetcht a deepe 
135 sigh, that wakt my selfe and my bed fellow. 

Dro, This was deuisd, not dreamt ; and the more foolish being 
no dreame, for that dreames excuse the fantasticalnesse. 

Half, Then aske my bed-felow, you know him, who dreamt that 
night that the king of diamonds was sicke. 

103 sacke (^ : wine rest io6 cushing Bl, loj I A^. awakt Q* rest 

128 indges Q^ i2g & QQ only dtigd Q^ : dnnged Q* BL : dung mods, 

131 yi\\o\t old eds, Dil,\ c\^ F, 

204 MOTHER BOMBIE [act in 

Bom. But thy yeeres and humours, pretie child, are subiect to 140 
such fansies, which the more vnsensible they seeme, the more 
fantasticall they are ; therefore this dream is easie. 
To children, this is giuen from the Gods 
To dream of milke, fruit, babies, and rods ; 
They betoken nothing, but that wantons must haue rods. 145 

Dro. Ten to one thy dreame is true, thou wilt bee svringed. 

Mix. Nay gammer, I pray you tell me who stole my spoone out 
of the buttrie ? 

Bom. Thy spoone is not stolne but mislaide. 

Thou art an ill huswife, though a good maid, 150 

Looke for thy spoon where thou hadst like to be no maide. 

Eix, Bodie of me 1 let me fetch the spoone ! I remember the 
place ! 

Ludo. Soft, swift ; the place if it be there now, will bee there to 
morrowe. '55 

Rix. I, but perchance the iqx)one will not. 

Half. Wert thou once put to it ? 

Eix. No, sir boy, it was put to me. 

Ludo. How was it mist ? 

Dro. He warrant for want of a mist. But whats my fortune, 160 
mother ? 

Bom. Thy father doth liue because he doth die, 
Thou hast spent all thy thrift with a die. 
And so lyke a begger thou shalt die. 

Eis. I woulde haue likte well if all the gerundes had beene 165 
there, di^ do^ and dum ; but all in die, thats too deadly. 

JDro. My father indeed is a diar, and I haue ben a dicer, but to 
die a beggar, giue mee leaue not to beleeue. Mother Bombie ; and 
yet it may bee. I haue nothing to liue by but knauery, and if the 
world grow honesty welcome beggerie. But what hast thou to say, 170 

Bis. Nothing, till I see whether all this bee true that she hath 

Half. I, Bisio would faine see thee beg. 

Bis. Nay, mother, tell vs this. What is all our fortunes ? we are 175 
about a matter of legerdemaine, howe will it fodge ? 

1^1 VDBcnsible (j^ . Tincible rest; Dil. proposing to transpose fantasticall tfm/ 
vinable 147 gammer Q^ Dil. : grammer rest 154 will] it will (^ 

165 I]IIO': I.Ii?/.-^.: Ah!I/}i7. i67diarOO: l>y9x Bl. F.i dyer 

JHt. and Dil. F. : but old eds. 176 £idge Bl. mods. 

saiv] MOTHER BOMBIE 205 

Bom. You shall all thriue like coosners, 

That is, to bee coosned by coosners : 
All shall ende well, and you bee found coosners. 
iSo Drd, Gramercie ! Mother Bombie^ we are all pleasd, if you were 
for your paines. < Offering money. > 

Bom, I take no monie, but good wordes. Raile not if I tell true ; 
if I doe not, reuenge. Farewell. 

Exit BoM. 
Dro. Now haue we nothing to doe but to go about this busines. 
J^S Accius apparell let Candius put on ; and I wyU aray Accius with 
Candius clothes. 

^is, Heere is Silenas attire ; Lucio^ put it vpon Liuia^ and give 
me Ziuias for Siiena : this done, let Candius & Uuia come foorth, 
and let Dromio and mee alone for the rest 
193 Half. What shall become of Accius and Siiena f 

Dro. Tush ! theyr tume shall bee next, all must bee done orderly : 
lets to it, for nowe it workes. Exeunt. 

ACT. 4. 

SCE. 1. 

Candius, Liuia, Dromio, Risio, Sperantus, Prisius. 

{Enter Candius and Livia, in the clothes of Acaus and Silena, 

respectively. ") 

Livia. This attyre is verie fit But how if this make me a foole, 
and Siiena wise ? you will then woo mee, and wedde her. 

Can. Thou knowest that Accius is also a foole, and his raiment 
fits me : so that if apparell be infectious, I am also lyke to be a foole, 
5 and hee wise ; what would be the conclusion, I meruaile. 

Enter Dromio, Risio. 

Livia. Here comes our counsellers. 
Dro. Well sayd ; I perceiue turtles flie in couples. 
Ris. Else how should they couple ? 

lAvia. So do knaues go double, else how should they be so 
10 cunning in doubling? 

187 Lucio] Linceo (^ 4-5 foole, and hee wife; what] fool; and he wise, 

what Dil. : foole, and hee wist what QQ Bl. F. 


2o6 MOTHER BOMBIE [activ 

Can. Bona verba, Liuia, 

Dro, I vnderstand Latine : that is, Liuia is a good worde. 

Can, No, I byd her vse good wordes. 

Ris. And what deeds ? 

Can, None but a deed of giflL 15 

RU. What gift? 

Can, Her heart. 

Dro, Giue mee leaue to pose you, though you bee a graduate ; for 
I tell you we in Rochester spurre so many hackneys, that we must 
needs spurre schollers, for wee take them for hackneys. ^o 

JJvia, Why so, sir boy ? 

Dro, Because I knew two hired for ten grotes a pece to saie 
seruice on Sunday, and thats no more than a post horse from hence 
to Canterbury. 

Ris, Hee knowes what hee sayes, for hee once serued the 35 
post-master. ^ 

Can, In deed I thinke hee serued some poast to his master, but 
come Dromiopost me, 

Dro, You saie you would haue her heart for a deed. 

Can, Well 3© 

Dro, If you take her hart for cor, that heart in her bodie, then know 
this: Molle eius leuibus, cor enim violabile telis: a womans heart is 
thrust through with a feather : if you meane she should giue a heart 
/ named Ceruus, then are you worse, for comua ceruus habet, that is, 
to haue ones heart growe out at his head, which wyll make one ake 35 
at the heart in their bodie. 

Enter Prisius, Sperantus. 

Liuia. I, beshrew your hearts, I heare one comming : I know it 
is my father by his comming. 

Can, What must we doo? 

Dro. Why, as I tolde you : and let me alone with the olde men : 40 
fall you to your bridall. 

Pris. Come^ neighbor, I perceiue the loue of our children waxeth 
key colde. 

Spe. I thinke it was neuer but luke warme. 

Pris, Bauins will haue their flashes, and youth their fansies ; 45 
the one as soone quenched as the other burnt But who be these ? 

3a Molle . . . Cor enim inuiolabile Q}' : hence Male . . . inniolabile ^ Bl, F. : 
Dil, lengthens oor reading molle . . . levibus, cor est violabile {so Lev. Met. ▼. a. 11) 
38 coinming] congfaing Dil. 43 key colde Q^ : cold rest 



Can, Here I do plight my faith, taking thee for the stafTe of my 
age, and of my youth my solace. 

Uvia, And I vow to thee affection which nothing can dissolue, 
50 neither the length of time, nor mallice of fortune, nor distance of 

Can. But when shall we be married ? 

Zivia. A good question, for that one delay in wedding, brings an 
hundred dangers in the Church : we will not be askt, and a licence is 
55 too chargeable, and to tarrie til to morrow too tedious. 

£>ro. There's a girle stands on pricks till she be married. 
Can. To auoid danger, charge, and tediousnesse, let vs now 
conclude it in the next Church. 
Livia. Agreed. 
60 JPris. What be these that hasten so to marrie ? 

Dro. Marrie sir, Aca'us, sonne to McmphiOy and Sihna^ Stellios 

Spe. I am sorrie, neighbour, for our purposes are disappointed. 
Pris. You see marriage is destinie; made in heauen, though j/^ ^4 
65 consumated on earth. 

Ris. How like you them ? be they not a pretie couple ? 
Fris. Yes : God giue them ioye, seeing in spite of our hearts they 
must ioyne. 

Dro. I am sure you are not angrie, seeing things past cannot be 
70 recald ; and being witnesses to their contract, will be also welwillers* 
to the match. 
Spc, For my part I wish them well. 

Pris, And I : and since there is no remedie, I am glad of it 
Ris. But will you neuer heereafter take it in dugeon, but vse 
75 them as well as though your selues had made the marriage? 
Fris. Not I. 
Spe. Nor I. 

Dro, Sir, heres two old men are glad that your loues, so long 
continued, is so happily concluded. 
80 Can, Wee thanke them; and if they will come to Memphios 
house, they shall take parte of a bad dinner. — (^Aside.yTlis cottons, 
and workes like waxe in a sowes eare. 

Exeunt Candius, Liuia. 

53 bringeth Q^ BL mods, 54 dangers : in Dil, deleting the comma of old eds, 
fl/ Church 55 too*] to Q^ 73 that before I am old eds, 78 heres] 

hecre Q" BL : here Dtt. love F. 79 is] are Dil. 81 bad g^ : 

bard rest 

2o8 MOTHER BOMBIE [activ 

Pris, Well, seeing our purposes are preuented, wee must lay 
other plots, for JJuia shall not haue Candius. 

Spe, Feare not, for I haue swome that Candius shall not haue 85 
JUuia, But let not vs fall out because our children fall in. 

Fris. Wilt thou goe soone to Memphios house ? 

Spe, I, and if you will, let vs ; that we may see how the young 
couple bride it^ and so we may teach our owne. Exeunt 

ScE. 2. 


{Enter Lucio and Halfpenny.) 

Lucio. By this time I am sure the wagges haue playde their 
parts; there rests nothing now for vs but to match Accius and 

Half. It was too good to be true, for we should laugh heartily, 

and without laughing my spleene would split ; but whist ! here comes 5 

the man, 

Enter Accius {in Candius' clothes^. 

and yonder the maide : let vs stand aside. 

Enter Silena {in Livia's clothes), 

Accius. What meanes my father to thrust mee forth in an other 
boies coate ? He warrant tis to as much purpose as a hem in the 
forehead. *o 

Half, There was an auncient prouerbe knockt in the head. 

Accius, I am almost come into my nonage, and yet I neuer was so 
farre as the prouerbes of this citie. 

Ludo, Theres a quip for the suburbes of Rochester. 

Half Excellently applyed. 15 

Sil, Well, though this furniture make mee a sullen dame^ yet 
I hope in mine owne I am no saint 

Half A braue fight is lyke to bee betweene a cocke with a long 
combe, and a hen with a long leg. 

Lucio, Nay, her wits are shorter than her legs. ao 

Half And his combe longer than h}s wit. 

Accius. I haue yonder vncouered a faire girle : He be so bolde as 
spurre her, what might a bodie call her name ? 

84 other (^ only 88 will let all eds, 4 was] would be Dil. 8>9 

anothen boyes (^ la mine Q^ 

sen] MOTHER BOMBIB^ ^09 

&'/. I cannot help you at this time, I praie you come againe to 
35 morrow. 

Ifa/f. I, marie sir ! 

Acdus. You neede not bee so lustye, you are not so honest 

SiL I crie you mercy, I tooke you for a ioynd stoole. 

Lucto, Heeres courting for a conduit or a bakehouse. 
30 SiL But what are you for a man ? me thinks you loke as pleaseth 

Accius. What doo you giue me the boots ? 

JlcUf, Whether will they ? here be right coblers cuts ! 

Accius, I am taken with a fit of loue : haue you anye minde of 
35 marriage ? 

Sii. I had thought to haue askt you. 

Accius. Vpon what acquaintance ? 

SiL Who would haue thought it ? 

Accius. Much in my gascoins, more in my round hOse; all my 
40 fathers are as white as daisies, as an ^ge full of meate. 

SiL And all my fathers plate is made of Crimosin veluet. 

Accius. Thats braue with bread ! 

Half. These two had wise men to theyr Fathers. 

Lucio. Why ? 
45 Half. Because when their bodies were at worke about hous- 
hold stuflfe, their mindes were busied about commonwealth 

Accius. This is pure lawne : what call you this, a pretie face to 
your haire ? 
50 SiL Wisely ! you haue pickt a raison out of a fraile of figges. 

Accius. Take it as you list, you are in your owne clothes. 

SiL Sauing a reuerence, thats a lie! my clothes are better, my 
father borrowed these. 

Accius. Long may hee so doe. I could tell that these are not 
55 mine, if I would blab it lyke a woman. 

SiL I had as liefe you should tell them it snowd. 

Lucio. Come let vs take them oflf, for we haue had the creame of 

Half. He warrant if this bee the creame, the milke is verie flat : 
60 let vs ioyne issue with them. 

33 Whether 1. e. Whither as Dil. 39 hose] honae Bl. DiL 41 crimson 

(^ rest 42 ThaU] That (^ 43 two Dii. F. : three old tds. 49 haire] heir 
Dil. 50 Wisely you all eds. 56 liefe] leane BL Piods. 

BOHo nx P 


2iq MOTHER BOMBIE [activ 

Lucio, To haue such issues of our bodies, is worse than haue an 
issue in the bodie. {To Silena.) God saue you, prety mouse. 

SiL You may command and go without 

Half. Theres a glieke for you, let me haue my girde. — {To Sil.) 
On thy conscience tell me what tis a clocke ? 65 

Sii, I cry you mercie, I haue kild your cushion. 

Half. I am paid and stroke dead in the neast — I am sure this 
soft youth who is not halfe so wise as you are faire, nor you alto- 
\'^, ^ gether so faire as he is foolish, will not be so captious. 

Accius. Your eloquence passes my recognoscence. 70 

Enter Memphio, Stellio {severally^ behind). 

Lucio. I neuer heard that before, but shal we two make a match 
betweene you ? 

•Sr7. He know first who was his father. 

Accius, My father? what need you to care ? I hope he was none 
of yours ! 75 

Half. A hard question, for it is oddes but one begate them both ; 
hee that cut out the vpper leather, cut out the inner, & so with one 
awl stitcht two soles together. 

SM (ande to Luc). What is she? 

Luc, Tis /yxfiW daughter. 80 

SUl. In good time : it fodges. 

Mtmp, {aside to Half.). What is he ? 

Half, Sperantus sonne. 

Memp, So : twill cotton. 

Accius. Damsell, I pray you how olde are you ? 85 

Mtmp, {joside^ alarmed). My sonne would scarce haue askt such 
a foolish question. 

SiL I shall be eighteene next beare-baiting. 

SteL (joside^ alarmed). My daughter woulde haue made a ¥riser 
aunswere. 99 

HcUf, {to Luc). O how fitly this comes oflf ! 

Accius, My father is a scolde, whats yours ? 

Memp, My heart throbs, — I^'U) looke him in the face : and yonder 
I espie Stellio. 

61 issues] issue 0* rest 64 a glieke] glieke Q* rest^ which Dil. explains as 
^ to gibe' 65 tis] it is Q* rest 70 passe QQ 77 that] hath F. 79-84 
Stel. [aside to Luc.] this tmd the five feilawing prefixes are misplaced in all eds, 
Memp. HalL Memp. Stel. Loc. Stel. See note 81 £sdges Bl. mods, 91 

off] of C^ 93 rU] I tf all eds. isprob. mistake fir lltduetolin looke 

nc.ii] MOTHER BOMBIE 21 r 

95 S/el My minde misgiues mee — but whist, yonder is MempMo. 
Accius (Jo Memp.). In faith I perceiue an olde sawe and a nistici^ 
no foole to the old foole. I praie you wherefore was I thrust out 
lyke a scar-crow in this similitude ? 

Memp. My sonne ! and I ashamd ! Dromio shall die. 
100 SiL Father, are you sneaking behind? I pray you what must 
I doe next ? 

Siel. My daughter ! Eisio thou hast cosned mee« 
Lucio. Now begins the game. 
Memp, How came you hether ? 
105 Accius. Marrie, by the waie from your house hether, 
Memp. How chance in this attire ? 
Accius. How chance Dromio bid me ? 
Memp. Ah, thy sonne will bee begd for a concealde foole. 
Accius. Will I ? I faith, sir, no. 
1 10 SteL Wherefore came you hether, Siiena^ without leaue ? 
SiL Because I dyd, and I am heere because I am. 
Stei. Poore wench, thy wit is improued to the vttermost. 
Half. I, tis an hard matter to haue a wit of the olde rent; 
euerie one rackes his commons so high. 
115 Memp. (jiside). Z^r^m/V? tolde mee that one should meete •S/^///V?x 
daughter, and courte her in person of my sonne. 

SteL (^aside), Risio tolde me one shoulde meete Memphios sonne, 
and pleade in place of my daughter. 

Memp. {aside). But alas, I see that my sonne hath met wyth 
lao Siiena himselfe, and bewraid his folly. 

SteL {aside). But I see my daughter hath pratled with Accius^ 
and discouered her simplicitie. 

Lucio. A braue crie to heare the two olde mules weep ouer the 
young fooles. 
125 Memp. Accius^ how lykest thou Siiena f 
Accius. I take her to be pregnant 
SiL Truly his talke is very personable. 
SteL Come in, girle : this geare must be fetcht about, 
Memp. Come, Accius^ let vs go in. 
130 Ludo {to Stellio). Nay, sir, there is no harme done ; they haue 

104 hither ^' rest 107 How chance ? Dromio bid me. DiL 111 am* ^^ : 
came rest 1 17 Stel. Risio . . . sonne (^ only. The rest print and pleade . . . 

daughter as continuation of Memphio's preceding speech, old eds. placing fresh prejix 
Memp. before But alas 123 to before weepe Q^ Bl. mods. 136 pregnant 

(^ : repugnant rest 

p a 

aia MOTHER BOMBIE [activ 

neither bought nor solde : they may be twinnes for theyr wits and 

Memp. {to Halfpenny). But why diddest thou tell mee it was 
Sperantus sonne ? 

JIaif, Because I thought thee a foole, to aske who thine owne 135 
Sonne was. 

Lucio {to Stellio). And so, sir, for your daughter, education hath 
done much, otherwise they are by nature softe wytted inough. 

Memp. Alas, theyr ioyntes are not yet tied, they are not yet come 
to yeeres and discretion. 143 

Accius, Father, if my handes bee tyed, shall I growe wise ? 

Half, I, and Silena too, if you tie them fast to your tongues. 

Si7. You may take your pleasure of my tongue, for it is no mans 

Memp, Come in, Accius. 145 

Stel, Come in, Silena : I wyll talke with MempMos sonhe ; but 
as for Risio — / 

Memp. As for Dromio — f 

Exeunt Memphio^ Accius, Stellio^ Silena. 

Half. Asse for you all foure ! 

Enter Dromio, Risio. 

Dro. How goes the worlde now ? We haue made all sure ; Candius 150 
and Liuia are maryed, their fathers consenting, yet not knowing. 

Lucio. We haue fiat mard all ! Accius and Silena courted one 
another ; their fathers toke them napping ; both are ashamd ; and 
you both shall be swingd. 

Eis. Tush ! let vs alone : we will perswade them that all fals out 155 

for the best ; for if vnderhande this match had bene concluded, 

they both had ben coosned ; and now seeing they finde both to bee 

fooles, they may be both better aduised. But why is HcUfepenie 

so sad? 

^/i/^ Hackneyman, Sergeant 

Half. Because I am sure 1 shall neuer bee a pennie. 160 

Eis. Rather praie there bee no fall of monie, for thou wilt then 
go for a que. 

134 Spenmtm] Prisiiis all eds. See mv tmendation rf the prefixes 11. 79-S4 
140 and so all 142 too Q* rest : to Q^ 150 worldfe, now we all eds,, Dil. 
F. am. comma at world 156 'vnderhande, Q^ : I vnderstand rest^ DU. nt- 

peating if bef. this i6a qae old eds. i. e. q. as Dil. : larthiog F,] MOTHER BOMBIE 213 

Dro. But did not the two fooles currantly court one another ? 
Ludo, Verie good words, fitly applyed, brought in the nicke. 
165 Serg. {laying hand on Dromio). I arest you. 

Dro. Me, sir ! why then didst not bring a stoole wyth thee, that 
I might sit downe ? 
Hack, Hee arests you at my suite for a horse. 
J^is. The more Asse hee ! if hee had arested a mare in stead of ^ 
170 an horse, it had bin but a slight ouersight ; but to arest a man that 
hath no lykenesse of a horse, is fiatte lunasie or alecie. 
Hack. Tush ! I hired him a horse. 
Dro. I sweare then he was well ridden. 
Hack. I think in two daies he was neuer baited. 
1 75 Half. Why, was it a beare thou ridst on ? 
Hack. I meane he neuer gaue him bait. 
Lucio. Why he tooke him for no fish. 

Hack, I mistake none of you when I take you for fooles \ — I say 
thou neuer gauest my horse meate. 
i8o Dro. Yes, in foure and fortie houres I am sure he had a bottle 
of hay as big as his belly. 
Serg. Nothing else ? thou shouldest haue giuen him prouender. 
JRis. Why he neuer askt for anie. 
Hack. Why, doest thou thinke an horse can speake ? 
185 Dro. No, for 1 spurd him till my heeles akt and hee sayd neuer 
a word. 

Hack. Well, thou shalt paie sweetly for spoiling him ! it was as 
lustie a nag as anie in Rochester, and one that would stand vpon 
no groimd. 
190 Dro. Then is he as good as euer he was. He warrant heele do 
nothing but lie downe. 

Hack. I lent him thee gently. 

Dro. And I restored him so gently, that hee neither would cry 
wyhie^ nor wag the taile. 
195 Hack. But why didst thou boare him thorough the eares ? 

Lucio. It may be he was set on the pillorie, because hee had not 
a true pace. 

Half. No, it was for tyring. 

Hack. He would neuer tire : it may be he would be so wearie 
303 he would go no further, or so. 

170 but* C* only 183 Ria.] Dro. F. wrongly reporting (^ for om. (^ 

Bl. Dil. 190 is he Q^ : hee is m/ 194 wjhie] Ual. first F. 

a 14 MOTHER BOMBIfi [actiV 

Dro. Yes, he was a notable horse for seruice ; he wold tyre, and 

Hack, Doe you thinke He be iested out of my horse ? Sergeant, 
wreake thy office on him« 
Ris. Nay, stay, let him be baild. 205 

Hack, So he shall when I make him a bargen. 
^ Dro. It was a verie good horse, I must needs confesse ; and now 
hearken to his qualities, and haue patience to heare them, since 
I must paie for him. He would stumble three houres in one mile, 
I had thought I had rode vpon addeces betweene this and Canter- a 10 
burie ; if one gaue him water, why he would lie downe & bath 
himselfe lyke a hauke : if one ranne him, he woulde simper and 
mump, as though he had gone a wooing to a maltmare at Rochester : 
hee trotted before and ambled behinde, and was so obedient, that 
he would doo dutie euerie minute on his knees, as though euerie 215 
stone had bin his father. 

Hack, I am sure he had no diseases. 

Dro^ A little rume or pose : hee lackt nothing but an hand- 

Serg, Come, what a tale of a horse haue we here ! I can not stay, 220 
thou must with me to prison. 

Eis, If thou be a good fellow^ Hacknyman, take all our foure 
-bondes for the paiment : thou knowest wee are towne borne children, 
and wil not shrinke the citie for a pelting iade. 

Half, He enter into a statute Marchant to see it aunswered. But 225 
if thou wilt haue bondes, thou shalt haue a bushell full. 

Hack, Alas, poore Ant! thou bound in a statute marchant? 
a browne threed will bind thee fast inough. But if you will be 
content all foure ioyntly to enter into a bond, I will withdrawe the 
action. 230 

Dro. Yes, He warrant they will. How say you ? 

Half. lyeeld. 

Ris, And I. 

Lucio, And I. 

Hack, Well, call the Scriuener. 235 

Serg, Heeres one hard by : He call him. 

(^Knocks at a door, ) 

204 thine Q^Bl, mods, 205 stay, (^ only 208 to' ^*: Kiirest 210 
•ddeces QQ {t,e. adzei) : addtces rest 218 rhenme Bl, mods, 222 Ris.1 

lU. e» : Li. ^ BL : Luc. £>t7, F, fellow Q^ only 227 poore] poort (^ 

s. D. [Knocks at a door] supplied Dil,] MOTHER BOMBIfi 215 

His, A scriueners shop hangs to a Sergeants mase, like a barrel to 
a freese coate. 

Scri. {within). Whats the matter ? 
240 Hack, You must take a note of a bond. 

Dro. Nay, a pint of curtesie puis on a pot of wine. In this 
Taueme weele dispatch. 

Hack, Agreed. Exeunt {ail dufRiscio). 

Ris. Now if our wits be not in the waine, our knauery shall bee 

245 at the full They will ride them worse than Dromio rid his horse, 

for if the wine master their wits, you shall see them bleed their 

foUyes. Exit. 

ACT. 6. 

{Enter) Dro, Risio, Lucio, Halfpenie. 

Dromio. Euerie foxe to his hole, the houndes are at hande. 

Ris. The Sergeants mase lyes at pawne for the reckning, and he 
vnder the boord to cast it vp. 

Lucio. The Scriuener cannot keepe his pen out of the pot : euery 
5 goblet is an inkhome. 

Half. The hackneyman hee whiskes with his wande, as if the 
Taueme were his stable, and all the seruantes his horses : ' lost there 
vp, bay Richard ! ' — and white loaues are horsebread in his eyes. 

Dro. It is well 1 haue my acquitance, and hee such a bond as 
10 shall doo him no more good than the bond of a faggot Our 
knaueries are now come to the push, and wee must cunningly 
dispatch all. Wee two will goe see howe wee may appease our 
masters, you two howe you may conceale the late marriage : if 
all fall out amisse, the worst is beating ; if to the best, the worst ' 
15 is lybertie. 

J^is. Then lettes about it speedely, for so many yrons in the fire 
together require a diligent Plummer. Exeunt. 

237 Kom. (^ s. D. [all bat Risdo] added Dil. 245 Thej] we Dil. 

SCB. 1] See 8. ^ s. D. Lucio] Linceo oldeds. 7-8 inv. commas first in 

Dil, 9 acquitance] acquaintance Q' Bl, F, sach a bond Q' : fttcn bonds 

rest 13 the (^\ joux rest 16 &reom. Q^ 


ScE. 2. 


(^Enter Vicinia.) 

Vic, My heart throbbes, my eares tingle, my minde misgiues 
mee, since I heare such muttering of marryages in Rochester. My 
conscience, which these eighteene yeeres hath beene frosen with 
coniealed guiltynesse, beginnes nowe to thawe in open griefe. But 
I wil not accuse my selfe till I see more danger : the good olde 5 
woman Mother Bombie shall trie her cunning vpon me; and if 
I perceiue my case is desperate by her, then wyll I rather preuent, 
although with shame, then report too late, and be inexcusable. 
(^Knocks. Enter Mother Bombie.) God speed, good mother. 
Bom, Welcome, sister. to 

Vic, I am troubled in the nfght with dreames, and in the daie 
with feares ; mine estate bare, which I cannot well beare ; but my 
practises deuillish, which I cannot recall. If therefore in these same 
yeeres there be anie deepe skill, tell what my fortune shall be, and 
what my fault is. 15 

Bom. In studying to be ouematurall. 
Thou art like to be vnnaturall, 
And all about a naturaU : 
Thou shalt bee eased of a charge. 

If thou thy conscience discharge, 20 

And this I commit to thy charge. 
Vic, Thou hast toucht mee to the quicke, mother ; I vnderstand 
thy meaning, and thou well knowest my practise, I will follow thy 
counsell. But what wyll bee the end ? 
Bom. Thou shalt know before this daie end : farewel. 25 

Eocit BoM. 
Vic. Nowe I perceiue I must either bewraie a mischiefe, or suffer 
a continual inconuenience. I must hast homewardes, and resolue 
to make all whole : better a little shame, than an infinite griefe. 
The strangenes will abate the faulte, and the bewraying wipe it 
cleane away. Exit, 30 

s. D. Vicinia Q^, here and below ^ II, 269, 272, 342 : Vicina (^ rest 2 such Q^ : 
some rest 3 bane (? Bl. F, : has Dtl. 4 coniealed QQ : congealed BL F, : 
concealed Dil. this hef. coniealed ^ rest 8 report so all 14 nie after 

tdl Bl mods. 18 a ^ only 

scin] MOTHER BOMBIE 217 

{Enter) Three Fidlers, Synis, Nasutus, Bedunenus. 

Syn. Come, fellowes, tis almost dale ; let vs haue a fit of mirth at 
Sperantus doore, and giue a song to the bride. 

Nas, I beleeue they are asleepe : it were pittie to awake them. 

Bed, Twere a shame they shoulde sleepe the first night 
5 Syn. But who can tell at which house they lie ? at Prisius it may 
be ! weele trie both. 

Nas, Come lets drawe lyke men. 

Syn. Now, tune, tune, I saie ! that boy, I thinke will neuer profit 
in his facultie ! he looses his rosen, that his fiddle goes cush, cush, 
10 like as one should go wet-shod ; and his mouth so drie that he hath 
not spittle for his pinne as I haue. 

Bed, Mary, sir, you see I go wetshod and dry mouthd, for yet 
could I neuer get newe shooes or good drinke ; rather than He leade 
this life, I throw my fiddle into the leads for a hobler. 
15 Syn, Boy, no more words ! theres a time for al things. Though 
I say it that should not, I haue bene a minstrell these thirtie yeeres, 
and tickled more strings than thou hast haires, but yet wa3 neuer so 

NcLS. Let vs not brabble but play : to morrow is a new daie. 
20 Bed, I am sorrie I speake in your cast What shall wee sing ? 

Syn, The Loue-knot, for thats best for a bridall. 

Good morow, fayre bride, and send you ioy of your bridalL 

Sperantus lookes out. 

Spe, What a mischiefe make the twanglers here? we haue no 
trenchers to scrape : it makes my teeth on edge to heare such grating. 
35 Get you packing ! or He make you weare double stockes, and yet 
you shall bee neuer the warmer. 

Syn, We come for good will, to bidd the bride and bridegroome, 
God giue them ioy. 

Spe, Heres no wedding. 

s. D. Bedunenus] Bedvnens (^ o roson 0* • Rozen Bl, : rotin Dil, : 

razon F, 14 I G^ : He Q*^ Bl, F, : I'll Dil, 15 therei a (^\ there is 

rest S.D. Sing.] rMVJ. alleds, : ai end rflim Q^, Frvd, stagi-dinctiim as 

F, first suggests 22 Good] God QQ, Dil, assigns Good . . . bridall to Nas. 

23 makes Dil, twangeis (^ Bl, mods. 29 Hexes] Hers (^ 


Syn. Yes, your sonne and Prisius daughter were maryed : though 30 
you seeme strange, yet they repent it not, I am sure. 

Spe, My sonne, villaine ! I had rather hee were fairely hanged. 
Nas, So he is, sir ; you haue your wish. 

Enter Candius. 

Can. Here, fidlers, take this, and not a worde: heere is no 
wedding, it was at Memphios house; yet, gramercy! your musicke, 35 
though it mist the house, hit the minde ; we were a preparing our 
wedding geare. 

Syn, I crie you mercie, sir, I thinke it was Memphios sonne that 
was married. (^Exit Candius.) 

Spe. O ho, the case is altered ! goe thether then, and be haltered 40 
for me. 

Nas. Whats the almes ? 

Syn, An Angell. 

Bed. He warrant thers some worke towards: ten shillings is 
money in master Maiors purse. 45 

Syn, Let vs to Memphios and share equally ; when we haue done 
all, thou shalt haue new shooes. 

Bed, I, such as they cry at the Sizes, a marke in issues, and 
marke in issues, and yet I neuer sawe so much leather as would 
peece ones shooes. 50 

Syn. No more 1 thers the mony. 

Bed. A good handsell, and I thinke the maidenhead of your 

J\ras. Come, heres the house : what shall we sing ? 

Syn. You know Memphio is verie rich and wise, and therefore 55 
let vs strike the gentle stroke, and sing a catch. Sing. 


Ai/ s. T^He Bride this Night can catch no cold; 

-L No cold, the Bridegroome's yong, not old, 
Like lule he her fast does hold, 

1 Fid. And clips her, 5o 

2 „ And lips her. 

3 „ And flips her too. 

A// 3. Then let them alone, they know what they doe. 

s. D. [Exit Candius] cm, ail eds, tkaugk they record his re-entry below 40 

Spe. om. Q* 48 and om. Bl. Dil, 50 ones Q^\ my rest s.D. Sing.] 
as stage-direction (^ : as text, rest. BL alone of old eds, gives the words 


I Fid, At laugh and lie downe, if they play, 

5^ 2 ,, What Asse against the sport can bray? 

3 „ Such Tick-tacke has held many a day, 

1 ,, And longer. 

2 „ And stronger. 

3 ,, It still holds too. 

70 All 3. Then let them alone, they know what they doe^ 

This Night, 
In delight 
Does thump away sorrow. 
Of billing 
ye Take your filling, 

So good morrow, good morrow. 

Nas, Good morrowe, mistres bride, and sende you a huddle. 

Memp. (above). What crouding knaues haue we there ? case vp 
your fiddles, or the cunstable shall cage you vppe ! What bride 
80 talke you of? 

Syn, Heres a wedding in Rochester, and twas tolde me first that 
Sperantus son had married Frisius daughter. We were there, and 
they sent vs to your worshippe, saying your son was matched with 
Slellios daughter. 
85 Memp, Hath Sperantus that churle nothing to doe but mocke his 
neighbours? He bee euen with him! And get you gone, or 
I sweare by the roodes bodie He laye you by the heeles. 

Nas, Sing a catch ? heres a faire catch in deed ! sing til we catch 
colde on our feet, and bee caid knaue tyll our eares glowe on our 
5^ heades ! Your worshippe is wise, sir. 

Memp, Drotnio^ shake off a whole kennel of officers, to punish 
these iarring rogues. He teach them to stretch theyr dried sheepes 
guts at my doore, and to mock one that stands to be maior. 

Dro, {above), I had thought they had beene sticking of pigs, 
95 I heard such a squeaking. I go, sir. 

Syn. Let vs be packing. 

Nas, Where is my scabbarde ? euerye one sheath his science. 

Bed, A bots on the shoomaker that made this boote for my 

fiddle : tis too straight. 

100 Syn, No more wordes! twill bee thought they were the foure 

waites, and let them wring ; as for the wagges that set vs on worke, 

wele talke with them. Exeunt, 

77 Good] God QQ 78 [above] DiL suppL Memphio looks oat 85 

with before his (^ Bl, mods, 9 a rogues Q^\ tongues rest 


{Enter) Memphio, Dromio. 

Dro. They be gone, sir. 

Memp. If they had stayed, the stockes shoulde haue staled them. 
But, sirra, what shall we now doo ? ^^h 

Dro. As I aduised you, make a match j for better one house be 
cumbred with two fooles than two. 

Memp, Tis true: for it beeing bruted that eache of vs haue 
a foole, who will tender marriage to anie of them, that is wise? 
besides, fooles are fortunate, fooles are faire, fooles are honest. i^o 

Dro, I, sir, and more than that, fooles are not wise : a wise man 
is melancholy for moone-shine in the water; carefull, building 
castles in the ayre ; & commonly hath a foole to his heyre, 

Memp, But what sayest thou to thy dames chafing ? 

Dro. Nothing, but all her dishes are chafing dishes. 115 

Memp. I would her tongue were in thy belly. 

Dro. I had as liefe haue a rawe neates tongue in my stomacke. 

Memp. Why? 

Dro. Marie, if the clapper hang within an inch of my heart, that 
makes mine eares bume a quarter of a mile off, do you not thinke i ao 
it would beate my heart blacke and blew ? 

Memp. Well, patience is a vertue, but pinching is worse than any 
vice ! I wil breake this matter to Stellio^ and if he be willing, this 
day shall be their wedding. 

Dro. Then this day shall be my libertie. 125 

Memp. I, if Steiiios daughter had beene wise, and by thy meanes 
cosned of a foole. 

Dro. Then, sir, He reuolt, and dash out the braines of your 

Memp. Rather thou shalt be free. Exeunt. 130 

{Enter) Sperantus, Halfepenie, Prisius, Lucio. 

Spe. Boy, this smoake is a token of some fire, I lyke not the lucke 
of it Wherefore should these minstrelles dreame of a marryage ? 

HtUf. Alas, sir, they rustle into euery place. Giue credit to no 
such wordes. 

Spe. I will to Prisius : I cannot be quiet — ^and in good time I meet 1 35 
him. Good morow, neighbor. 

106 adnise O* Bl. mods. 109 wise?] wise, oldeds. : wise; Dil. F. 120 

off, do DiL : off. TUiM tds. F. %. D. Lucio] Linoeo Q* : Undo (^ BL 131 
A Q^ only Incke] k)ok DiL 156 Good mod. tds. : God QQ BL 

sciii] MOTHER BOMBIE 22 1 

Pris. I cast the morrow in thy face, & bid good night to all 

Spe. This is your olde tricke, to pick ones purse & then to picke 
140 quarrels : I tell thee, I had rather thou shouldest rob my chest, than 
imbesell my sonne. 

Pris. Thy sorme ? my daughter is seduced t for I hear say she 
is marryed, and our boyes can tell. — (^To Lucio.) How sayest thou ? 
tell the truth or He grinde thee to pouder in my mill. Be they 
145 marryed ? 

Lucio. True it is they were both in a chtux:h. 
Fris. Thats no fault, the place is holy. 
Half. And there was with them a priest. 
Spe. Why what place fitter for a priest than a church ? 
150 Lucio. And they tooke one another by the hand. 
Fris. Tush ! thats but common curtesie. 
LLalf. And the priest spake many kinde wordes. 
Spe, That shewed hee was no dumbe minister. But what sayde 
they ? diddest thou heare anie wordes betweene them ? 
155 Lucio. Faith there was a bargaine during life, and the clocke 
cryed, God giue them ioy. 
Pris. Villaine ! they be marryed ! 
JlcJf. Nay, I thinke not so. 

Spe. Yes, yes ! God giue you ioy is a binder ! He quickly be 
160 resolud. Candius^ come forth. 

(^Re')Enter Candius. 
Pris. And He be put out of doubt lAuia^ come forth. 

{Enter) LiuiA. 

Spe. The micher hangs downe his head ! 

Pris. The baggage begins to blush ! 

Half, Now begins the game I 
165 Lucio. I beleeue it will be no game for vs. 

Spe. Are you marryed, yong master ? 

Can. I cannot denie it, it was done so lately. 

Spe, But thou shalt repent it was done so soone. 

Pris. Then tis bootlesse to aske you, Liuia. 
170 Livia, I, and needlesse to be angrie. 

137 face] late Q}^ 141 imbeasell Bl. F. : embezzle Dil. 144 pow« 

dcded (^ 155 clocke] clerk Dil. without authority^ but perhaps rightly 

22^ MOTHER BOMBIE [actv 

Pns^ It shall passe anger ; thou shalt finde it rage. 

Uvia, You gaue your consent 

Pris, Impudent giglot, was it not inough to abuse me, but also to 
belie me ? 

Can, You, sir, agreed to this match. 1 75 

Spe. Thou brasen face boy, thinkest thou by learning to persuade 
me to that which thou speakest ? Where did I consent, when, what 
witnes ? 

Can, In this place yesterday before Droniio and Risio, 

Pris, I remember we heard a contract between Memphios sonne 180 
and Stellios daughter ; and that our good wils being asked, which 
needed not, wee gaue them, which booted not. 

Can, Twas but the apparell oi Accius and Sikna; we were the 

Pris, O villany not to be borne ! (^To Lucio.) Wast thou priuie 185 
to this practise ? 

Lucio, In a manner. 

Pris, He pay thee after a manner. 

Spt, And you, oatemeale groate ! you were acquainted with this 
plot. 190 

Half, Accessarie, as it were. 

Spt, Thou shalt be punished as principal : here comes Memphio 
and SieUio ; they belike were priuie, and all theyr heads were layde 
together to grieue oiu: heartes. 

Enter Memphio, Stellio, (Dromio, Riscio). 

Memp, Come, Stellio^ the assurance may be made to morrow, and 195 
our children assured to day. 

SUL Let the conueyance runne as we agreed. 

Pris, You conuey cleanely in deede, if coosnage bee cleane deal- 
ing, for in the apparell of your children you haue conuaide a match 
betweene ours, which grieues vs not a little. 200 

Memp, Nay, in the apparel of your children, you haue discouerd 
the folly of ours, which shames vs ouermuch. 

Stel, But tis no matter; though they bee fooles they are no 

Spe, And thogh ours be disobedient, they be no fools. 205 

Dro, So now they tune theyr pipes. 

188 pay] pray Q* BL s. D. [Dromio, Riscio] supplied Dil, aoa 

ihamet J shame F, 


J^is. You shal heare sweet musicke betweene a hoarse rauen and 
a schritch owle. 

Memp, Neighbours, let vs not vary : our boyes haue playd theyr 
2 lo cheating partes. I suspected no lesse at the Taueme, where our 
foure knaues met together. 

Ris, If it were knauery for foure to meet in a Taueme, youi: 
worships wot well there were other foure. 

SUL This villaine cals vs knaues by craft. 
215 Ludo. Nay, truly, I dare sweare hee vsed no crafte, but meanes. 

Spe. This is worse! come, Halfeptnie^ tel truth & scape the 

Half, As good confesse heere beeing trust, as at home with my 
2 30 hose about my heeles. 

Dro, Nay, He tell thee, for twill neuer become thee to vtter it. 

Memp, Well, out with it. 

Dro. Memphio had a foole to his sonne, which Stellio knew not ; 
Stellio a foole to his daughter, vnknowen to Memphio ; to coosen 
a 25 eache other, they dealte with theyr boyes for a match ; we met 
with Lucio and Halfepenie who told the loue betweene their 
masters children, the youth deeply in loue, the fathers vnwilling to 

Ris, He take the tale by the end, — then wee foure met, which 
330 argued we were no mountaines; and in a tauem we met, which 
argued we were mortall ; and euery one in his wine told his dayes 
worke, which was a signe we forgot not our busines ; and seeing all 
our masters troubled with deuises, we determined a little to trouble 
the water before they dronke ; so that in the attire of your children 
335 our masters wise children bewrayed theyr good natures ; and in the 
garments of our masters children yours made a marriage; this all 
stoode vppon vs poore children, and your yong children, to shewe 
that olde folkes may be ouertaken by children. 

Fris, Heres a children indeed ! He neuer forget it. 
340 Memp, I will ! Accius, come forth. 

Stel, I forgiue all ! Si/ena, come forth. 

210 cheating] chcaring Q^ Bl, Dil, aio-i onr foure] foure foure QQ 213 
worships Dil, F, : wor. old eds, 217 Halfepenie Bl, tnods, : Half. QQ 219 

honfesse Q}^ trust all eds. for trussed 226 Lucio] Lincio old ccb, 227 un- 
willing Dil, : vnwitting old eds, F. 239 a QQ only 

224 MOTHER BOMBIE [actv 

{Enter AcCius and Silena.) 

Spe. Neighbor, these things cannot be recald, therefore as good 
consent ; seeing in all our purposes also we mist the marke^ for they 
two will match their children. 

Pris. Well of that more anone ; not so sodainely, least our vn- 245 
gratious youths thinke we dare do no other ; but in truth their loue 
stirres vp nature in me. 

Mtmp. Come, Accius^ thou must be marryed to Silena. How art 
thou minded ? 

Accius. What for euer and euer ? 250 

Memp, I, Acaus, what els ? 

Acdus. I shall neuer be able to abide it, it will be so tedious. 

Stel. StVena, thou must be betrothed to Acaus, & loue him for thy 

Si/. I had as liefe haue one of clouts. ^f 5 

Ste/. Why, Siiena ? 

5/7. Why looke how he lookes. 

Accius. If you will not, another will. 

Sil. I thanke you for mine olde cap. 

Accius. And if you be so lustie, lend me two shillings. 360 

Pris. (^to Spe,). We are happie we mist the foolish match. 

Memp. Come, you shall presently be contracted. 

Dro. Contract their wits no more, they bee shronke close 

Accius. Well, father, heeres my hande ; strike the bargaine. 365 

Sii. Must he lie with me ? 

Stel. No, Silena, lie by thee. 

Accius. I shall giue her the humble-bees kisse. 

^«/l?r ViciNiA, (MiESTius, am/ Serena). 

Vic. I forbid the banes. 

Pis. What, doest thou thinke them rattes, and fearest they shall 270 
be poisoned ? 

Memp. You, Vicinia? wherefore? 

Vic. Hearken ! — ^about eighteene yeeres agoe, I nurst thee a sonne, 
Memphio, and thee a daughter, Stellio. 

Stel. True. 375 

Memp. True. 

s. D. ViciNiA QQ : Vicina Bi. mods. s. D. [M^STius and Serena] sup» 

plied Dil. 372 Vicioa (^ Bl. mods. 


Vic, I had at that time two children of mine owne ; and being 

poore, thought it better to change them than kill them. I imagined 

if by deuice I coulde thrust my children into your houses, they should 

aSo be wel brought vp in their youth, and wisely prouided for in their 

age : nature wrought with me, and when they were weaned, I sent 

home mine in sted of yours, which hetherto you haue kept tenderly 

as yours : growing in yeres I founde the children I kept at home to 

loue dearely, at first lyke brother and sister, which I reioyced at, but 

285 at length too forward in affection ; which although inwardly I could 

not mislike, yet openly I seemed to disallowe. They increased in 

their louing humours ; I ceased not to chastise them for theyr loose 

demeanors. At last it came to my eares, that my sonne that was 

out with Memphio was a foole ; that my daughter with Stellio was also 

290 vnwise ; and yet beeing brother and sister, there was a match in 

hammering betwixt them. 

Memp, What monstrous tale is this ? 
SicL And I am sure incredible. 
Spe, Let her end her discourse. 
295 Accius, He neuer beleeue it 1 
Memp, Holde thy peace ! 

Vic, My verie bowels earned within me, that I shuld be author 
of such vilde incest, an hinderance to lawfull loue. I went to the 
good olde woman, Mother Bombie^ to knowe the euent of this 
300 practise ; who tolde mee this day I might preuent the danger, and 
ypon submission escape the punishment Hether I am come to 
claime my children, though both fooles, and to deliuer yours, both; 

Memp, Is this possible ? how shall we beleeue it ? 
305 SteL It cannot sinke into my head. 

Vic, This triall cannot faile. Your sonne Memphio j had a moale 
vnder his eare : I framed one vnder my childes eare by arte ; you 
shall see it taken away with the iuyce of mandrage ; beholde nowe 
for your sonnes, no hearbe can vndo that nature hath done. Your 
310 daughter, Stellio^ hath on her wrist a moale, which I counterfeted 
on my daughters arme, & that shall you see taken away as the other. 
Thus you see I doe not dissemble, hoping you will pardon me, as 
I haue pittied them. 

279 should (^ : would rest 288 demeanor F, 2Q7 earned] yearned 

mods. 298 vilde QQ : vile Bl, mods, an] and Dil, perhaps rightljf 

299 good olde] ^pld Bl. : good Dil, 302-3 your both louing (^ : yours 

both lining <^ rest, Dil. inserting comma at yoois ... 


236 MOTHER BOMBIE [actv 

Memp, This is my sonne. O fortunate Memphio / 

SteL This is my daughter, more than thrice happie 5/f///<t?/ 315 

Mast, How happie is Mastius^ how blessed Serena^ that being 
neither children to poore parents, nor brother and sister by nature, 
may inioye their loue by consent of parents and nature, 

Accius. Soft, He not swap my father for all this. 

SiL What, do you thinke He bee cosned of my father ? me thinkes S^o 
I should not ! Mother Bombit tolde me * my father knew mee not, 
my mother bore mee not, falsely bred, truly begot,' — a bots on 
Mother Bomby 1 

Dro, Mother Bombie tolde vs we should be founde coosners, and 
in the end be cosned by cosners : wel fare Mother Bomby / 3»5 

Ris. I heard Mother Bomby saie that thou shalt die a beggar ; 
beware of Mother Bomby ! 

Fris, Why haue you all bene with Mother Bomby f 

Lucia, ^11, and as farre as I can see (she) foretolde all. 

Memp, In deed she is cunning and wise, neuer doing harme, but 330 
still practising good. Seeing these things fall out thus, are you 
content, Steilio, the match goe forward ? 

SteL I, with double ioye, hauing found for a foole a wise maide, 
and finding betweene them both exceeding loue. 

Fris, Then to end all iars, bur childrens matches shall stand 335 
with our good liking. Liuia^ inioy Candius. 

Spe, Candius, inioy Liuia^ 

Can, How shall we recompence fortune, that to our loues hath 
added our parents good wills ? 

Mast, How shall wee requite fortune, that to our loues hath 340 
added lawfulnesse, and to our poore estate competent liuing ? 

Memp, Vtcinia, thy fact is pardoned ; though the law would see 
it punisht. Wee be content to keepe Silena in the house with the 
new married couple. 

SteL And I doo maintaine Accius in our house. 3^5 

Vic. Come, my children, though fortune hath not prouided you 
landes, yet you see you are not destitute of friends. I shall be eased 
of a charge both in purse and conscience : in conscience, having 
reuealed my lewd practise ; in purse, hauing you kept of almes; 

Accius, Come, if you bee my sister, its the better for you, 350 

316 hovr^ihovL all eds,jDil, placing comma aih\txsc^ 321-a inv, com, first F, 

335 wel fare F. : welfare old, eds, : farewell DU, Bomby] Bom. Bl, DiL 

339 [she] inserted DU, 34a Vidua (^ BL mods, 34B haying mods. ; 
bane oldeds^ 350 its ^: tis ^ nst 

sciii] MOTHER BOMBIE 227 

Si/. ComCi brother, me thinkes its better than it was : I should 
haue beene but a balde bride* He eate as much pie as if I had 
bene marryed. 

Memp. Lets also forgiue the knauerie of our boyes, since all tumes 
355 to our good haps. 

SteL Agreed : all are pleased nowe the boyes are vnpunisht* 

Enter Hackneyman, Sergeant, Scriuener. 

Hack. Nay, softe, take vs with you, and seeke redresse for our 
wrongs, or weele complaine to the Maior. 
Pris, Whats the matter ? 
360 Hack, I arested Memphios boye for an horse. After much 
mocking, at the request of his fellowe wagges, I was content to take 
a bonde ioyntlye of them all : they had me into a taueme ; there they 
made me, the Scriuener, and the Sergeant, dronke, paunde his mase 
for the wine, and seald mee an obligation nothing to the purpose : 
365 I pray you, reade it. 

Memp. What wags be these ! Why by this bond you can 
demand nothing ; and thinges done in drinke may be repented in 
sobemes, but not remedyed. 
Dro. Sir, I haue his acquittaunce : lette him sue his bonde. 
370 Hack. He crie quittance with thee. 

Serg. And I, or it shall cost me the laying on freelie of my mase. 
Scri. And He giue thee such a dash with a pen as shall cost 
thee many a pound, with such a Nauerint as Cheapside can shew 
none such. 
375 Half. Doe your worst ; our knaueries will reuenge it vpon your 
childrens children. 

Memp. Thou boy ! {To Hackneyman.) We wil paie the hire of 

the horse : be not angrie ; the boyes haue bene in a merrie cosning 

vaine, for they haue serued their masters of the same sorte ; but all 

380 niust be forgotten. Now all are content but the poore fidlers : 

they shal be sent for to the marriage, & haue double fees. 

Dro, You need no more send for a fidler to a feast, than a beggei 
to a fayre. 

SteL This daie ve will feast at my house. 
385 Memp. To morrow at mine. 

351 itB ^^ : 'tis BL F, : it is Dil. 360 horse after old eds, F. : horse; after 
Dil. 363 pawnde (^ BL F. : pawned Dil, 369 acquaittance BL 370 

rid/; 373 cheap side <7/rf^d:r. 375 renenge (^ ITJ Thou boy!] Then, 
boy, DiL 378 cosning Q^ : cousoning Q* : cousening BL F. : cozening DU. 




[act V, SC. lit 

Pris. The next day at mine# 
. Sp€, Thea at mine the last day, & euen so spend this weeke in 
gogd cheere. 

Dro, Then ^e were best be going whilest euery one is pleasd : 
and yet these couples are not fully pleasde, till the priest haue done 390 
his worst 

Eis, Come, Sergeant, weele tosse it this weeke, and make thy 
mase arest a boild capon. 

Serg, No more words at the wedding : if the maior shuld know 
it, 1 were in danger of mine office. 595 

J^is, Then take heed how on such as we are, you shew a cast of 
your office. 

Ifaif. If you mace vs, weele pepper you. 

Accius, Come, sister, the best is, we shall haue good chere these 
ibure dayes. 400 

'■ Lucio, And be fooles for euer. 

Sil, Thats none of our vpseekings. 



387 day Q' mly 




' xzij die Septembris • 1595. Robert Fyncbe. Entred for bis Copie vnder tb 
ftndes of botbe the wardens a booke intitnled a woman in the moone . . . yj^.' 
Sta, Reg, iu. 48 (ed. Arb.)* This is the only entry in the whde Register con- 
cerning Robert Finch, all note of transference of rights in The Wcwum to William 
Jones, the actual publisher^ being wanting* 

Q. TKe Woman \ in the Moone. \ As it was prestnttd before \ her Higkmsse, \ By 
John Lyllie maister | rf Artes, \ Imprinted ai London for William \ Jones^ and 
are to be sold at the signe of the \ Gun, neere Holbume Conduict, \ 1597. | 4to« 
A-G 2 in fours, G 2 verso blank. No col. {Br, Mus, : Bodl, : J>yce Coll, S, 

The play is not included among the Sixe Court Comedies^ its second publication 
being that of Fairholt's edition of the Dramatic Worhs, roh ii. 1858. 


Argument, — Nature on the petition of the shepherds of Utopia 
creates a woman for their comrade, and dowers her with the several 
excellences of the gods who preside over the Seven Planets. The 
latter, filled with envy, determine to work her ruin by subjecting her 
in turn to their influence. Under that of Saturn she repays with 
a moody discourtesy the service rendered by Gunophilus (the Clown 
of the piece)^ and the admiration of the shepherds. Under that of 
Jupiter she rejects contemptuously the love profiered by the god and 
the sceptre she at first requested ; she exacts exaggerated demonstra- 
tions of respect from Gunophilus, and delights in exercising the 
shepherds in dangerous tasks. When Mars assumes the ascendant, 
he brings the shepherds to blows over the boar they have killed ; but 
Pandora mingles in the fray, and puts them all to rout Sol^ suc- 
ceeding, makes her sweet-tempered and poetical : she apologizes to 
Gunophilus and her suitors^ selects Stesias as her husband, and 
prophesies their happiness in oracular verse. Next, Venus, aided by 
Cupid and Joculus, renders her wanton : she makes love in turn to 
Gunophilus and the three other shepherds, Learchus, Melos, and 
Iphicles, and invites them to a banquet Gunophilus, jealous of the 
shepherds, posts Stesias in wait in a cave, but, failing to give the 
signal till the banquet with its jealousies and recriminations is over, 
only receives a beating for his pains. Mercury, assuming sovereignty, 
fills Pandora with the spirit of lying and theft ; while the shepherds, 
changed also to intriguers under his influence, betray her conduct to 
Stesias. Warned by Gunophilus, Pandora parries Stesias' reproaches 
by a feigned swoon, and represents the shepherds' reports as caused 
by jealousy and disappointed love. She revenges herself on them 
by pretended assignations, at which Stesias, in his wife's clothes, 
meets and cudgels them ; while she herself elopes with Gunophilus, 
carrying her husband's treasure along with her. On their way to the 
coast, however, Zuna assumes sway, causing her purpose to change 
and her wits to ^(rander. Stesias overtakes them; but she soon 


breaks away from him, and finally lies down to sleep. Stesias, again 
assured by the shepherds of her treachery, determines to kill her : 
from this, however, he is dissuaded by the Planets, and finally 
Nature assigns her a place in the Moon, with special influence over 
women ; while Stesias, appointed to attend on her as the Man in the 
Moon, in his anger rends Gunophilus^ who has been changed into 
a hawthorn, to form the bush at his back* 

Text. — I follow that of the Quarto, which is far better than Fairholt'^ 
reprint of it, correcting its errors, and inserting many necessary stage- 
directions. It presents about twenty mistakes in the text^ and seven- 
teen important omissions of stage-directions for entry or exit, especially 
the latter. Yet it is dis t inguished from the quarto editions of f}} ^^ 
other plays by a much greater fullness and frequency o fjgther stage- 
directions : the metre, too, is well preserved, requiring correction in 
only three instances — a circumstance due no doubt to the end-stoipped 
character of Lyly's blank verse. 

Fairholt corrects seventeen errors of Q ; but introduces twenty-five 
corruptions, many of them more serious than those which he corrects, 
e.g. pp. 249, 'Calisco' for *Calisto'; 253, 'where thy' for 'were 
they'; 259, 'Utopia' for * Vtopiae ' ; 260, 'fortunae' for 'fortuna'; 
268, ^GunJ for *PanJ; 270, 'love' for 'loue'; 274, *protenus* 
for 'protervus'; 282, 'Musk white' for 'Milke white,' 'breach* 
for 'breath.' Yet since in this case we are spared the interven- 
tion of Blount's carelessly-printed edition, Fairholt's text is better 
for this play than for most of the rest ; though we have lost the 
two Songs in i. i, which Blount would doubtless have given. 

Authorship.— (a) 'By lohn Lyllie maister of Artes* (tide-page 
of Q) ; (b) the allusion ' Ceres and her sacred Nymphes,' iil i. 50, is 
probably to the Nymphs of Ceres in Zaves Metamorphosis^ asserted 
to be Lyly's on its title-page ; and in iiL 2. 21-4 there is a notable 
reproduction of an opinion strongly emphasized by Lyly in Euphues 
and his England^ voL iL p. 160, about women's attitude towards 
a man's love. 

Date. — The downward limit may, in the case of a play, be con- 
sidered as supplied by the entry to Robert Finch in the Stationers^ 
/Register, under date Sept. 22, 1595, of a 'booke intituled a woman 
in the moone,' which was followed in due course by its publication 
in 1597 'for William lones.' 


For the upward limit, the simflarity noted above between Venus* 
speech, iii. 2. 11. 21-4, and the argument on p. 160 of Euphues and 
his England (1580) cannot safely be taken as evidence that the play 
was not written before 1580, since the passage in the novel might be 
developed from that in the play. A line in the Prologue describing 
the play as the author's dream, 

The first he had in Phoebus holy bowre, 

has sometimes been interpreted as meaning absolutely the first play ^ ; 
but the more natural meaning is, surely, the first attempt at a play in 
verse, and there is much to support the idea of a late date. To 
begin with, the absence in this single case of the name of the PauFs 
boys from the title-page suggests its production after their inhibition 
in 1 59 1, an inhibition which lasted till 1599. Then the mention of 
Ceres' nymphs, iii. i. 50, who play no part in the classical myth of the 
goddess, points to a date of composition later than that of at least 
the earliest form of Loves Metamorphosis^ where such nymphs figure 
prominently — a play produced, probably, before the suppression 
of the Paul's boys; *and perhaps later than Sept 1592, the date 
of the entertainment at Bisham, another work of Lyly, wherein 
Ceres and her nymphs also appear*. In iii. i. 53, 63 are two un- 
common words, ' demeane ' and ' depart,' used as substantives, which 
Lyly almost certainly borrowed from the Faerie Queene (1590), ii. 
9. 40, * modest of demayne,' and iii. 7. 20, * lament for her depart' 
The only earlier instances quoted by Murray of * demeane ' as a noun 
are of 1450 and 1534, the only earlier one of 'depart ' is c. 1330 in 
the romance Arthur and Merlin^nonQ of which seem likely to have 
crossed Lyly's eye. Further, my later study of the play induces me to 
class it as dramatically one of the best and most skilfully constructed 
of all Lyly's efforts. Euphuism, too, is entirely absent ; the w retched 
puns are gone, and are replaced^ a for more natural hum our. ~It is 
in this last respect particularly, and only I think in this play, that we 
inay trace in our author the reciprocal influence of Shakespeare. Fair- 
holt has noticed as common to this work and ih'^ Midsummer Nighfs 
Dream_l\ie apology for the play as merely the author's dream, and the 
introduction of the man in the moon with his bush. These were 

• - • 

^ To suppose it his first literary work of any kind is absolutely prohibited by 
the words at the beginning of the dedication of Euph. and his Eng. — ' In the like 
manner fareth it with me (Right Hooonrable) who muer be/on handling the 
pcnsilU did for my fyrst connterfaite, coulour mine owne Enphnes/ &c 

' See vol. i. p. 476 1. a. Compare, too, * Maremaydes glasse,' iii. a. i6a, with 
the stage-direction for the Siren in Lnes Met, iT..3| p. 32a. 


points which I believe Shakespeare to have borrowed from Lyly; 
and he may further have found in Pandora^s passion for Guno- 
philus under malign influence (pp. 262, 280), especially Luna's, the 
suggestion of Titania's grotesque amour with Bottom in his ass- 
head ; in the lines spoken by the amatory shepherds, 

*When will the sun go downe? flye Phoebus flye! 
Oh that thy steeds were wing'd with my swift thoughts : . • . 
Come night, come gentle night, for thee I stay ' (iv. i'. 348-54), 

an anticipation of Juliet's speech in the orchard (iiL 2), 

' Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steedes ; 

To Phoebus mansion 

And send in cloudie night immediately' (ist Quarto 1597); 

and in some lines in iii. 2. 166-9 a hint for 'Under the greenwood 
tree ' in As You Like It But it has not been noticed that in The 
Woman we get, in far more pronounced degree than in Maries in 
Campaspe^ the exact presentment of the early Shakespearean Clown 
of the type of Costard and Launce. Hitherto Lyly has distributed 
his comic matter among a group of pages with their butt or butts : 
here he concentrates it in the person of Gunophiju s, with just that 
admixture of shrewd rustic comment on the action and rueful reflec- 
tion on his own mishaps which is so familiar to us in Shakespeare 
(see pp. 247, 251-2, 265-6, 267, 278, 282-3). Lov^s Labouf^s Lost^ 
The Two Gentlemen^ and The Comedy of Errors were all produced 
probably 1590-1592, and Lyly may well have witnessed all three. 

Connected with this last argument is the character of the blank 
verse, which is certainly not that of an early date like 1 580-1 586, 
but evinces the skill more appropriate to a time when it was winning, 
or had won, general acceptance as the right dramatic vehicle. It is 
true that smooth ^d moderately good end-stopped blank verse had 
been written much earlier, e. g. GorboduCy 1561, Jocasta^ 1566, 
Tancred and Gismunda^ 1568, The Arraignment of Paris (pub. 1584) 
and The Misfortunes of Arthur^ 1587 : but not one of these, with 
the possible and partial exception of Peek's Arraignment^ exhibits 
the ease and strength so noticeable throughout The Woman in the 
Moone\ still less does any of them approach the delicate poetic 
fancy displayed in many of Lyl/s lines. Moreover, a close examina- 
tion of these lines shows him not unaffected by the improvements — 
the variety of cadence, the departures from the normal decasyllabic 
line — which are generally accredited to Marlowe's Tamburlaine^ iS^7- 
I have counted over thirty lines in the play where such irregularities 


appear, and they are seldom such as can be attributed to mistakes in 

printing, e. g. : 

iiL 2. 4. Wanton discourses, mosicke and merrie songes 

iii. 2. 65. An^ of them all Stasias deserues the least 

iii. 2. 128. Then shepheard this kisse shalbe our nuptials 

iii. 2. 238. Bring Iphicles and Melos with thee, and tell them 

iv. I. 10. Theeuish, lying, subtle, eloquent 

. V. 1. 107. Milke white Squirrels, singing Popiniayes 

iv. I. 24. She singing on her Lute, and Melos being the note 

V. I. 324. Fantasticall, childish, and folish, in their desires 

Moreover, as I have shown under * Sources ' below, the play is 
probably indebted to the example of Greene's Pianetomachia^ pub- 
lished in black-letter quarto by Thos. Cadman, 1585; and to the 
dramatic example of The Rare Triumphs of Love and Fortune^ pub. 
1589. Finally the Latin lines, iii. i. 11 1-5, are a later adaptation of 
an effect already employed by him in the Elvetham Entertainment^ 
1591 : vol. i. p. 445. On all these grounds I incline, then, to reverse 
my earlier judgement (^Quarterly Review^ Jan. 1896) that The Woman 
is Lyl/s earliest play, 1578-81, and to pronounce it his latest concep- 
tion (followed only by the revised form oi Loves Metamorphosis\ com- 
posed 1591-3, probably nearer the end than the beginning of that 
period, but earlier than A Midsummer Nighfs Dreamy which dates 
about 1594. 

Sources. — The story of the creation of Pandora is original 
in Hesiod's*lB/jya mx 'UfUfxu^ IL 69-82 : 

^$ lifniff' oi 3* hrWovTO Au Kpovuan ayoKTU 
Avruca S* ^«c ytutf^ wXaxTfrt xXvro9 'Afi^yvi^t? 
vapBtvif aJSoiti ZkcXov, KpoviSco) 8ta fiovXds' 
{oxrc Sc Jocu KQQ'firja'€ Ota yXavKw/in^ *AOijtrq* 
iLfufn Bi Oi XapLTti re $mX koI rrorvta H€«$m 
op/wvi xp'^xrtiovi I0t<ray XP^ dfufn &k njyy€ 
^O/xu KmXXuco/jiSi €rr€<fHiiv 3y$wiy tlaptvoiaC 
[irai^ra 8c ot xpo^ Kotrfiov iifirjpfUHrt UaXXJas 'AA/n;.] 
*Ev 8* Sipa Oi on^coxTi 8iaicro/x>$ * Afrfti^^ovriffi 
^cvSca ff mfivXxov^ re Xoyovs jcou iwucXoTtov ^09 
rcv^c A«o9 fiovX'ffn fiafVKTvmv' Iv 8* &pa i^vrgv 
6rfK€ d€wv K^pvi' wofiifyt &k rqyB€ ywaljuca 
Uav&Q^fniVf ore toitcs *0\vfiina itafior ^;(OKrcs 
ScupoK iSwpftfirayf wrjfi h^ipaaw dXtf^t fv rjji n y* 

See also the Thetgony 570-612, 


: The following is the version of Hyginus, Fab. 142, Pandora : 

* Prometheus lapeti filius, primus homines ex luto finxit, postea 
Vulcanus louis iussu ex luto mulieris effigiem fecit, cui Minerva 
animam dedit, caeterique Dii alius aliud donum dederunt, ob id 
Pandoram nominarunt, ea data in coniugium Epimetheo fratri, inde 
nata est Pyrrha, quae mortalis didtur prima esse creata.' 

Lyly may have read the latter, and had probably read the former 
passages ; but I have found a still closer resemblance in some words 
in the third of Geoffrey Fenton's Cerieine Travail Discourses written 
oute of Frenche^ &c., London . • . 1567, B. L. 4°, being thirteen 
tales translated from Belleforest's Histoires Tragiques, which came 
originally from Bandello's Italian. The third of Fenton's Discourses 
is about ' A younge Ladye of Myllan,' who is named Pandora, and 
' longe abused the vertue of her youth and honor of manage with an 
vnlawfull haunte of diuerse yonge Gentlemen ' (from the * Table '). 
On fol. 62 it is said of her, 'This Pandora • • • gaue manyfest . 
signes during the tyme of her Infansye of her future disposition, 
arguinge the poysined Clymatte whiche first gettynge domynion 
ouer the yonge yeares of her grene vnderstading dyrected after y« 
whole seaquel of her life by the dyal of a cursed constelladon . . • 
for she was disdaynfull without respect, spytefuli without measure, 
honge altogether full of t)ie fethers of folyshe pryde, so wholly giuen 
to wallowe in dilycacie that she detested al exercises of vertue ' &c. : 
while on fol. 66 occurs ue following in a letter written to Pandora 
by her lover Parthenope — *The curious Artificer and coninge worke 
woman Dame Nature • . • was not so careful to worke you in her 
semelie frame of all perfections, as the powers deuine and disposers 
of the daungerous and loftye planets, assistinge her endeuour with 
certaine peculier ornaments of their spedall grace weare redye to 
open their golden vessell of precious treasur.' 

The idea of conflict between the Planets in regaid to their influence 
on human affairs appears in actual dialogue-form in Greene's Planeto- 
machia (1585), of which the following is the title : — 

< Planetomachia : Or the first parte of the generall opposition of 
the seuen Planets : wherein is Astronomically described their essence, 
nature, and influence : Diuersly discouering in their pleasaunt and 
Tragicall histories, the inward affections of the mindes, and painting 
them out in such perfect Colours, as youth may perceiue what fond 
fancies their florishing yeares doe foster : and age clerely see what 
doting desires their withered heares doe afforde. Conteyning alsq 


a briefe Apologie of the sacred and misticall Science of Astronomic : 
By Robert Greene, Master of Arts and student in Phisicke. 1585. 
Imprinted at London for Thomas Cadman, dwelling at the great 
North doore of S. Paules, at the signe of the Byble. 1585.' (6 fols. 
then A, B, B — 1 3 in fours, bl. lett 40.) The book represents 
a quarrel between Venus and Saturn as to whose astrological in- 
fluence is the more pernicious, in which Mars and Mercury take 
Venus' part, while Jupiter and Luna side with Saturn, and Sol, whose 
$phere lies midmost of the Seven, is appointed * moderator ' between 
them. Venus then gives a general statement of the melancholy 
influence exercised by Saturn on those bom under his star, and 
illustrates it by * a pleasant though Tragical History' (occupying 
14 fols.) of the loves of Rodento and Pasylla, daughter of Valdracko 
Duke of Ferrara, and their unfortunate issue owing to the Duke's 
^mity with Rodento's father, Count Celio. Then the dialogue 
between the Planets is resumed (sig. F 3), and Luna gives an 
|Astronomicall description of Venus,' which is followed by 'Satumes 
Tragedie,' closing the book with the story of Rhodope, the Egyptian 
courtesan, and the evils attending those who surrender themselves 
to Venus' influence. The book is redolent of Euphuts^ but shows 
no knowledge of Lyl/s play, which, as the more elaborate, is the 
more likely to be daived, though close parallels are lacking. He 
may have found a closer model in the play called The Rare Triumphs 
of Love and Fortune^ pub. 1589, 4^ ; the flrst Act of which is occupied 
by a council of the gods to set the action in motion ; in the second, 
third, and fourth Fortune and Venus alternately dominate the lives 
of two lovers, Hermione and Fidelia ; while in the fifth, by Jupiter's 
command, they combine to secure their happiness. For M&iferes' 
suggestion of Pandora or Luna as a satirical allegory of the Queen, 
a suggestion I hesitate to accept, see the Essay, voL iL p. 356 notei 
and Life and Appendix, vol. L pp. 63-4, 383, 389-90. 

Stage-History.: — The quarto's use of a smaller roman type for 
five particular ^age^rections (Act L II.31, 57, 224; Act iL 11. 201, 203) 
paay point to additions on the MS. in another hand, made, at a late^ 
performance than that before the Queen, by some stage-manager to 
whom Lyly had sold the play ; or, since it is not said to have beeii 
acted by the Paul's or Chapel Children, to additions made by the 
stage-manager (other than Lyly) of the first performance. The 
greater frequency of stage-directions in this, as compared with the 


other plays, favours the idea that Lyly had no hand in the actual 
production, and, in this case, wrote instructions he could not give 

Imitations. — Besides the suggestions afforded by this play to 
Shakespeare, as enumerated under 'Date* above (and cf. Essay, 
vol. ii. pp. 297-8), it undoubtedly contributed something to a poem 
of uncertain date, but originally dedicated to Prince Henry (ob. 161 2) 
by William Basse, entitled Vrania the Woman in the Moone ; wherein 
two gods, sent by Jupiter to report on the state of the world, fall in 
love with an Ethiopian woman, who having extracted from them the 
secret by which they are able to reascend, flies to Olympus, and on 
her arrival is banished by the Immortals to the Moone. Cynthia's 
indignation at the companion thus forced upon her is made to ex- 
plain the common lunar phenomena, and especially the subjection 
to her influence of all women, whom she afflicts 

With fancyes, frenzies, lunacyes, with strange 

FeareSy fashions, factions, furyes, & affections, 

With fondnes, fayntnes, fugacy, and change 

Of mindes, moodes, habits, houses, freindes, complections : 

In breife she raignes o're Women as a Queene. 

In her their state, in them her power, is seene. 

See my edition of William Basse's Poetical Works^ p. 308 (Ellis and 
Elvey, 1893), and compare the closing lines of Lyly's play. 

Place and Time. — In this his latest play but one we have the 
same indeterminate treatment, the same hovering between rule and 
licence, as in earlier works. In his onedrama of, 
however, Mother BombiL, he ohserved the. Unities more strict^ ; and 

J I, I — — 

in this play, his next composition, it is natural to find a. greater efiprt 
at conformity* Yet, while taking the Unities for his working-plan, 
he allows inconsistency to creep in. As regards Place, the presence 
of the balcony, occupied continuously by one or other of the 
Planets, really fixes the scene at one spot; but, while in iv. i. 165 
Pandora appoints to meet Iphicles * on Enipeus sedgy bankes,* later 
on in the same scene^ 1. 292, Stesias entering as her substitute says, 
*This is Enipeus banke.' Just before that point Pandora and 
Gunophilus have crossed the stage on their way * vnto the sea side,' 
1. 270 ; while at the beginning of Act v. 1. 10, evidently representing 


a later moment of the same expedition, Gunophilus says, * We are 
almost at the sea side.* Evidently there is an imaginary transfer of 
scene, the difficulty presented by the continuous use of the balcony 
being obviated by the reflection that it stands in this play for the 
heavens or actual planetary spheres, which would be equally present 
at different spots in the same neighbourhood. Several similar 
imaginary transfers occur in Campaspe^ one in Endimioriy pp. 60-1, 
and one in Loves Metamorphosis^ Act ii. As regards Time, he is stricter 
than in any other play. Though the notes of it are not very precise, 
he intends the action to occupy no more than the single day allowed 
for Comedy. Acts iv and v are, as I have shown, continuous, and 
early in Act iv (1. 103, * ere the sunne go doun ') Pandora alludes 
to the approach of evening. The inference is that the earlier part 
of the day has been occupied by the preceding Acts ; for the plan of 
the piece seems to require that if Mercury and Luna, who dominate 
the Fourth and Fifth Act respectively, hold sway only for a few 
hours, the ascendency of the preceding Planets shall not be of very 
much longer or shorter duration. The banquet that occupies the 
second scene of Act iii thus falls appropriately about the middle of 
the single day occupied by the whole piece ; and we may note that 
the division of this Third Act into two scenes involves no real 
interval, since Gunophilus executes in the second scene, 1. 68, 
a commission (to fetch a herb) imposed on him in the first, 11. 65-71. 
Similarly the sway of Luna, or moon-rise, comes near the end of the 
piece. We are, then, to disr^ard the inconsistencies which Lyly, 
whether carelessly or deliberately, left in the text, of which the chief 
are the words of Pandora, ii. i. 8-9 : 

By day I thinke of nothing but of rule. 
By night my dreames are all of Empery — 

words used immediately after Jupiter has assumed ascendency, and 
the recital by the shepherds, iv. i. 21 sqq., of past favours she has 
shown to them ; which would properly require the lapse of a con- 
siderable interval 



As it was prefentcd before 
her HighneJJi. 

ByloHN LviLiE aptilcr 


Imprinted at London forWillktn 

looest andare to be fold at the/^« oftbc 
Cm^ nemHolittrmCtndim* 

I J>7. 



-^ ' [ her handmaids. 

Discord, J 




Sol, \ the Seven Planets. 



Luna, / lo 


Ganymede, Mending on Jupiter (mute), 

Cupid, \ attending on Venus, 


Pandora, the Woman, 15 

Stesias, \ 

, , 'I Utopian Shepherds, 


Iphicles, J 

GuNOPHiLUS, Servant to Pandora, 20 

Scene — Utopia, ) 

TiVLKhi, VzvLS,'] list supplied F, 11 JvKO om, F, a i Scene — Utopia 

su/p/, F, 

Prologus ^^ ^^ ,^ p 

/^Fr /'(t;^/ slumbring in the Muses laps^ 

^^ Hath sum a Woman seated in the Moone^ 

A point b^ond the auncient Theorique: 

And as it was so he presents his dreame^ 

Here in the bounds of fayre Vtqpia, 5 

Where loueiy Nature being onely Queene^ 

Bestowes such workmanship on earthly mould 

That Heauens themselues enuy her glorious worke. 

But all in vaine : for {malice being spent) 

They yeeld themselues to follow Natures doom ; lo 

And fayre Pandora sits in Cynthias orbe, 

ThiSy but the shadow of our Authors dreame^ 

Argues the substance to be neere at hand: 

At whose appearance I most* humbly craue^ 

That in your forehead she may read content, 15 

If many faults escape in her discourse^ 

Remember all is but a Poets dreame^ 

The first he had in Phoebus holy bowre^ 

But not the last^ vnlesse the first displease. 



<ACT I) 

Enter Nature, with her two maidens Concord and Discord. 


V '^^Aiurt descends from farre aboue the spheeres, 

l\l To frolicke heere in fayre Vtopia, 

Where my chiefe workes do fiorish in their prime, 
"^ And wanton in their first simplicitie. 

Heere I suniey the pictured firmament, 5 

With hurtlesse flames in concaue of the Moone; 
, The liquid substance of the welkins waste, 

Where moystures treasurie is clouded vp; 
. The mutuall loynter of all swelling seas, 
; And all the creatures which their wanes conteine; lo 

I Lastly the rundle of this Massiue earth. 

From vtmost face vnto the Centers point: 

All these, and all their endlesse circumstance, 

Heere I suruey, and glory in my selfe. 

But what meanes Discord so to knit the browes, 15 

With sorrowes clowde ecclipsing our delights? 
Discord. It grieues my hart, that still in euery worke, 

My fellow Concorde frustrates my desire, 

When I to perfect vp some wondrous deed. 

Do bring forth good and bad, or light and darke, 33 

Pleasant and sad, moouing and fixed things, 

Fraile and immortal], or like contraries: 

She with her hand vnites them all in one, 

And so makes voide the end of mine attempt 

s. D. Act \\ om,Q, Tks diviswn of the play into Acts, and of the Third Act 

into scenes, is reproduced from Q F, s. D. Enter Nature, &c. : this and all 

tmdracheted stagt'directions, more full and numerous for this play, are, as usual, 

from the Q 6 Moone;] the stops at end of II, 6, 8, 10, la an represented by 

commas in Q ; F» substituting full stop only at conteine 


Nat. I tell thee Discord while you twaine attend 35 

On Natures traine, your worke must prooue but one; 
And in your selues though you be different, « 

Yet in my seruice must you well agree. 
For Nature workes her will from contraries, — 
But see where our Vtopian Shepheards come, 30 

Enter Stesias, Learchus, M£los» iPHiCLESy all clad in Skin^. 

They kneele downe. 
Stesias, Thou Soueraigne Queene and Author of the world. 

Of all that was, or is, or shall be framde, 

To finish vp the heape of thy great gifts, 

Vouchsafe thy simple seruants one request 
Nat. Stand vp, and tell the sum of your desire, 35 

The boone were great that Nature would not graunt: 

It euer was and shall be still my ioy. 

With wholesome gifts to blesse my workemanship. 
Jphicks, We craue, fa3nre goddesse, at thy heauenly hands, 

To haue as euery other creature hath, 40 

A sure and certaine meanes among our selues, 

To propagate the issue of our kinde : 

As it were comfort to our sole estate. 

So were it ease vnto thy working hand. 

Each Fish that swimmeth in the floating sea, 45 

Each winged fowle that soareth in the ayre, 

And euery beast that feedeth on the ground, 

Haue mates of pleasure to vpholde their broode : 

But thy Vtopians, poore and simple men, v 

As yet bewaile their want of female sex. 50 

Nat, A female shall you haue, my louely swaines, 

Like to your selues, but of a purer moulde : 

Meane while go hence, and tend your tender flocks, 

And while I send her, see you holde her deare. 
Exeunt Shepheards, singing a roundelay in praise of Nature. 

Now Virgins put your hands to holy worke, 55 

That we may frame new wonders to the world. 

They draw the Curtins from before Natures shop, where 
stands an Image dad and some vnclad, they bring forth the 
doathed image. 

s. D. They kneele downe] the chann of type here and in four places below ^ IL 57, 
324 ; Act ii. aoi, 203, is reproduced from Q, See under Stage-History ^ /. 336 

R 2 



When I arayde this lifelesse Image thus, 

It was decreed in my deepe prouidence, 

To mak^ it such as our Vtopians craue, 

A merror of the earth, and heauens dispight : 60 

The matter first when it was voyde of forme, 

Was purest water, earth, and ayre, and fyre, 

And when I shapt it in a matchlesse mould, 

(Whereof the lyke was neuer seene before) 

It grew to this impression that you see, 65 

And wanteth nothing now but life and sowle. 

But life and soule I shall inspire from heauen. 

So hold it fast, till with my quickning breath, 

I kindle inward seeds of sence and minde. 

Now fire be turnd to choler, ayre to bloud, 70 

Water to humor purer then it selfe. 

And earth to flesh more cleare then Christall rock. 

And Discord stand aloofe, that Concords hands 

May ioyne the spirit with the flesh in league. 

Concord fast imbrcueth the Image, 
Concord. Now do I feele how life and inward sence, 75 

Imparteth motion vnto euery limme. 
Nat, Then let her stand or moue or walke alone. 

The Image walkes about f carefully. 

Herein hath Nature gone beyond her selfe, 

And heauen will grudge at beautie of the earth. 

When it espies a second sonne belowe. 80 

*^ Dis, Now euerie part performes her functions dew. 

Except the tongue whose strings are yet vntyed. 
^ Nat, Discorde, vnlose her tongue, to serue her turne. 

For in distresse that must be her defence: 

And from that roote will many mischiefes growe, 85 

If once she spot her state of innocence. Image speakes. 

Pandora kneeling, Halle heauenly Queene, the author of all good, 

Whose wil hath wrought in me the fruits of life^ 

And fild me with an vnderstanding soule, 
^ To know the diflerence twixt good and bad. 90 

Nature lifting her vp. I make thee for a solace vnto men, 

And see thou follow our commaunding will. 
V Now art thou Natures glory and delight, 

Compact of euery heauenly excellence : 


Thou art indowd with Satums deepe conceit, 95 

Thy minde as hawte as lupiters high thoughts, 
Thy stomack Lion-like, like Manors hart, 
Thine eyes bright beamde, like Sol in Tiis array, 
/ Thy cheekes more fayre, then are faire Venus chcekes, 

Thy tongue more eloquent then Mercuries^ 100 

Thy forehead whiter then the siluer Moones: 

Thus haue I robd the Planets for thy sake. 

Besides all this, thou hast proud lunoes armes, 

Auroraes hands, and louely Thetis foote: 

Vse all these well, and Nature is thy friend, 105 

But vse them ill, and Nature is thy foe. 

Now that thy name may suite thy qualities, 

I giue to thee Pandora for thy name. 

(^During the following dialogue Pandora sits apart,) 

Enter the seuen Planets. 

Saturn, What creature haue we heere? a new found gawde? '^ 

A second man, lesse perfect then the first? no 

Mars. A woman this forsooth, but made in hast, 

To robbe vs Planets of our ornaments. ^ 

Jupiter. Is this the Saint, that steales my lunoes armes? - 
Sol. Mine eyes ? then gouerne thou my daylight carre. 
Venus. My cheekes? then Cupid be at thy commaund. 115 

Mercury. My tongue? thou pretty Parrat speake a while. 
Luna. My forehead? then faire Cynthia shine by night. 
Nat. What foule contempt is this you Planets vse, 

Against the glory of my words and worke ? 

It was my will, and that shall stand for lawe, iso 

And she is framd to darken all your prides. 

Ordeynd not I your motions, and your selues? 

And dare you check the author of your Hues ? 

Were not your lights contriude in Natures shop? 

But I haue meanes to end what I begun, 125 

And make Death triumphe in your Hues decay: 

If thus you crosse the meede of my deserts, 

Be sure I will dissolue your harmonie. 

When once you touche the fixed period: 

Meane while I leaue my worthy workmanship, 130 

Here to obscure the pride of your disdaine. ._ Exit. 

97 Mauors] Mars*8 /*., misreporting Q as reading Manor's 


Saf. Then in reuenge of Nature and her worke, 

Let vs conclude to shew our Emperie: 
^ And bend our forces gainst this earthly starre. 

Each one in course shall signorize awhile, 135 

That she may feele the influence of our beames, 

And rue that she was formde in our dispight: 

My turne is first, and Saturne will begin. He ascends. 

Jup. And He begin where Saturne makes an end, 

And when I end, then Mars shall tyrrannize, 140 

And after Mars then Sol shall marshall her. 
And after Sol each other in his course : 
Come let vs go, that Saturne may begin. 

{Exeunt all the Planets except Saturne.) 

Sat. I shall instill such melancholy moode. 
As by corrupting of her purest bloud, 145 

Shall first with sullen sorrowes clowde her braine, 
And then surround her heart with froward care: 
She shalbe sick with passions of the hart, 
Selfwild, and toungtide, but full fraught with teares. 

Enter Gunophilus. 

{Gun.y Gratious Pandora: Nature thy good friend 150 

Hath sent Gunophilus to waite on thee: 

For honors due that appertaines her will^ 

And for the graces of thy louely selfe, 

Gunophilus will seme in humble sorte^ 

And is resolud to liue and die with thee. 155 

Pan. If Nature wild, then do attend on me. 

But little seruice haue I to commaund, 

If I my selfe might choose my kinde of life, 

Nor thou, nor any else should stay with me, 

I finde my selfe vnfit for company. 160 

Gun. How so faire Mistres in your flouring youth, 

When pleasures ioy should sit in euery thought? 
Pan. Auaunt sir sawce ! play you the Questionest ? 

Whats that to thee, if I be sick or sad? 

Eyther demeane thy selfe in better sort, 165 

Or get thee hence, and seme some other where. 

136 our] her Q F. 


Gun. (^aside}. A sowre beginning: but no remedy,, 
Nature hath bound me» and I must obey: 
I see that seruants must haue Marchants eares, 
To beare the blast and brunt of euery winde. 170 

Pan. What throbs are these that labour in my brest? 
What swelling clouds, that ouercast my braine? 
I burst, vnlesse by teares they tume to raine. 
I grudge and grieue^ but know not well whereat: 
And rather choose to weepe then speake my minde, 275 

For fretfull sorrow captiuates my tongue. 

SAe playes the vixen with euery thing about her (^and finally resumes 

her seat}. 

Enter Stesias, Melos, Learchus, and Iphicles. 

Ste. See where she sits, in whom we must delight. 

Beware! she sleepes: no noyse for waking her! 
Iphi. A sleepe? why see how her alluring eyes, 

With open lookes do glaunce on euery side. 180 

Melos. O eyes more fayre then is the morning starre! 
Lear. Nature her selfe is not so louely &yre! 
Ste. Let vs with reuerence kisse her Lillie hands, 

Th^ all kneele to her. 

And by deserts in seruice win her loue. 

Sweete Dame, if Stesias may content thine eye, 185 

Commaund my Neate, my flock, and tender Kids, 

Whereof great store do ouerspred our plaines. 

Graunt me sweet Mistresse but to kisse thy hand* 

She hits him on the lips. 
Lear. No Stesias no, Learchus is the man: 

Thou myrror of Dame Natures cunning worke, 190 

Let me but hold thee by that sacred hand. 

And I shall make thee our Vtopian Queene^ 

And set a guilded Chapplet on thy head, 

That Nymphes and Satyrs may admyre thy pompe. 

She strikes his hand. He riseth. 
Gun. These twaine and I haue fortunes all alyke. 195 

Melos. Sweet Natures pride, let me but see thy hand, 

And servant lyke, shall Melos waite on thee. 

And beare thy traine: as in the glorious heauens, 

Perseus supports his loue Andromeda: 


Whose thirty starres, whether they rise or fall, aoo 

He falles or ryseth, hanging at her heeles. 

She thrusts her hands in her pocket, 
Jphi. O then to blesse the loue of Iphkles^ 

Whose heart dooth hold thee deerer then himselfe, 

Do but behold me with a louing looke, 

And I will leade thee in our sollemne daunce, 205 

Teaching thee tunes, and pleasant layes of loue. 

She winkcs and frownes. 
Ste, No kisse? nor touche? nor friendly looke? 

What churlish influence depriues her minde? 

For Nature sayd, that she was innocent, 

And fuUy fraught with vertuous qualities: 210 

But speake sweete loue: thou canst not speake but well. 
Gun. She is not tongue tyde, that I know by proofe. 
Melos, Speake once Pandora to thy louing friends. 
Pan. Rude knaues, what meane you thus to trouble me? 

Gun. She spake to you my maisters, I am none of your 
company. a 16 

Lear. Alas ! she weeping sounds : Gunophilus 

O helpe to reare thy Mistresse from the ground. 
Gun. This is the very passion of the 4ieart, 

And melancholy is the ground thereof. 220 

. Ste. O then to sift that humor from her heart, 

^jt^t^^ Let vs with Rundelayes delight her eare: 

^ For I haue heard that Musick is a meane, 

To calme the rage of melancholy moode. They sing. 

She starteth vp and runs away at the end of the Song saying. 

Pan. What songs? what pipes? & fidling haue we here? 225 

Will you not suffer me to take my rest? Exit. 

Meios. What shal we do to vanquish her disease? 

The death of that were life to our desires : 

But let vs go, we must not leaue her thus. Exeunt. 

Saturne descendeth on the stage. 
Sat. Saturne hath layd foundation to the rest, 230 

Whereon to build the mine of this dame, 

And spot her innocence with vicious thoughts; 

My tume is past, and Jupiter is next. Exit. 

Actus primi finis. 


ACT. 2. 

SCENA. 1. 

Enter Iupiter. 

(^Tup.) A loue principium^ sunt &• louts omnia plena. 
Now Iupiter shall rule Pandoraes thoughts, 
And fill her with Ambition and Disdaine : ^ 
I will inforce my influence to the worst, 4 

Least other Planets blame my regiment. (^He ascends,) 

Enter Pandora and Gunophilus. 

Pan, Though rancor now be rooted from my hart, 

I feele it burdened in an other sort: 

By day I thinke of nothing but of rule, ^ 

By night my dreames are all of Empery. 

Mine eares delight to heare of Soueraingtie, 10 

My tongue desires to speake of princely sway, 

My eye would euery obiect were a crowne. 
Jup, {aside), Danae was fayre, and Lceda pleasd me well, 

Louely Calisto set my hart on fyre: 

And in mine eye Europa was a gemme, 15 

But in the beauty of this Paragon, 

Dame Nature far hath gone beyond her selfe. 

And in this one are all my loues conteind. 

And come what can come, Iupiter shall prooue. 

If fa3rre Pandora will accept his loue : 20 

But first I must discusse this heauenly clowde 

That hydes me from the sight of*mortall eyes. 

Behold Pandora where thy loyer sits, (^Discovers himself,) 

High loue himselfe, who rauisht with thy blaze, 

Receiues more influence then he powers on thee, 25 

And humbly sues for succour at thy hands. 
Pan. Why what art thou? more then Vtopian swaines? 
Jup, The king of Gods, one of immortall race. 

And he that with a beck controules the heauens. 
Pan, Why then Pandora dooth exceed the heauens, 30 

Who neither feares nor loueth Iupiter. 

s. D. [He ascends] required by U, 60, 173 S. D. 14 Calisco F, misled by 

a batiered letter in Q 


Jup, Thy beauty will excuse what ere thou say, 

And in thy lookes thy words are priuiledgd. 

But if Pandora did conceiue those gifts, 

That loue can giue, she would esteeme his loue; 55 

For I can make thee Empresse of the world, 

And seate thee in the glorious firmament. 
/ Pan, The words of Empresse and of firmament, 

More please mine eares then Jupiter mine eyes : 

Yet if thy loue be lyke to thy protest, 40 

Giue me thy golden scepter in my hand. 

But not as purchase of my precious loue, 

For that is more then heauen it selfe is worthe. 
Jup. There, hold the scepter of Eternall loue^ 

{Hands it from the balcony,) 

But let not Maiestie encrease thy pride. 45 

Pan, What lack I now but an imperiall throne, 

And Ariadnas star-lyght Diadem. 

Enter lUNo. 

Juno, False, periurd lupiter and full of guile, 

Are these the fruites of thy new gouemment? 

Is lunoes beauty and thy wedlock vowe, 5<3 

And all my kindnesse troden vnder foote? 

Wast not enough to fancie such a trull. 

But thou must yeeld thy scepter to her hand? 

I thought that Ganimede had wened thy hart. 

From lawlesse lust of any womans loue : 55 

But well I see that euery time thou strayest. 

Thy lust but lookes for st^mpet stars belowe. 
Pan, Why know. Pandora scomes both loue and thee, 

And there she layes his scepter on the ground. 
Juno {picking it up). This shall with me to our Celestiall court, 

Where gods (fond lupiter) shall see thy shame^ 6r 

And laugh at Loue for tainting Maiestie: 

And when you please, you will repaire to vs: 

But as for thee, thou shamelesse counterfet. 

Thy pride shall quickly loose her painted plumes, 65 

And feele the heauy weight oi Junoes wrath. Exit Iuno. 

49 govemments I F, mistaking battered interrogation paint of Q 53 

soeptet Q 


Pan. Let lutw fret, and mooue the powers of heauen, 

Yet in her selfe Pandora stands secure: 

Am I not Natures darling and hir pride? y 

Hath she not spent her treasure all on me? 70 

Jup. Yet be thou wise (I counsell thee for loue) 

And feare displeasure at a goddesse hand. 
Pan. I tell thee Jupiter^ Pandoras worth 

Is farre exceeding all your goddesses: 

And since in her thou dost obscure my prayse, 75 

Here (to be short) I do abiure thy loue. 
Jup. I may not blame thee, for my beames are cause 

Of all this insolence and proud disdaine : 

But to preuent a secbnd raging storme, 

If iealious luno should by chaunce retume, 80 

Here ends my loue: Pandora now farewell. Exit (jabave). 

Pan, And art thou clouded vp? fare as thou list^ 

Pandoraes hart shall neuer stoope to loue: 

GunopJUluSy base vassaile as thou art^ 

How haps when luno was in presence here, 85 

Thou didst not honor me with kneele and crowche^ 

And lay thy hands vnder my precious foote, 

He powres downe a number of curtesies. 

To make her know the height of my desart ? 

Base pesaunt^ humbly watch my stately lookes^ 

And yeeld applause to euery word I speake: 90 

Or from my seruice He discarde thee quite. 

GuNOPHiLUS on his knees. 
Gun, Fayre and dread Soueraigne ! Lady of the world 1 

Euen then when iealous luno was in place, 

As I beheld the glory of thy face, 

My feeble eyes admiring maiestie, 95 

Did sinke into my hart such holly feare, 

That very feare amazing euery sence. 

Withheld my tongue from saying what I would, 

And freezd my ioynts from bowing when they should. 
Pan, I now Gunophilus thou pleasest me, 100 

These words and cursies prooue thee dutifull. 

93 place,] place : Q 


Enter Stesias, Learchus, Melos, and Iphicles. 

Ste, Now Stesias speake. 

Lear. Learchus^ plead for loue. 

Jphi. Now Cyprian Queene, guider of louing thoughts, 

Helpe Iphicles. 
Melos. Melos must speed, or dye. 

Gun, {intervening between the Shepherds and Pandora). Whether 
now my maisters in such post hast? 105 

Her excellence is not at leisure now. 
Ste, O sweet Gunophilus further our attempts. 
Iphi, And we shall make thee riche with our rewards. 
Gun, Stay heere vntill I know her further pleasure: 

{Turning to Pan.) 

Stesias & his felows humbly craue accesse to your excellSce. no 
Fan, I now thou fittest my humor; Let them come. 

Gun. Come on maisters. {77ie Shepherds approach,) 

Ste, Tel me my deare, when comes that happy houre, 

Whereon thy loue shall guerden my desire. 
Lear. How long shall sorows winter pinche my hart? .■ 115 

And luke warme hopes be child with freezing feare, I 

Before my suite obteyne thy sweete consent? 
Iphi, How long shall deaths incroching by delayes, 
y Abridge the course of my decaying life, 

Before Pandora loue poore Iphicles? 120 

Melos, How long shall cares cut off my flowring prime, 

Before the haruest of my loue be in? 
Ste, O speake! sweete loue. 

Iphi, Some gentle words, sweete loue. 

Lear. O let thy tongue first salue Learchus wound. 

That first was made with those immortall eyes. 125 

Melos. The only promise of thy future loue. 

Will drowne the secret heapes of my dispayre 

In endlesse Ocean of expected ioyes. 
'Pan. Although my brest yet neuer harbored loue, 

Yet should my bountie free your seruitude: 130 

If loue might well consort our Maiestie, 

And not debase our matchlesse dignitie. 
Ste. Sweet hony words, but sawst with bitter gawle. 

113 me] oa QF. proh,fir one, the compositor mistaking me 114 thy] my F. 


Iphi. They drawe me on, and yet they put me back. 

Lear. They hold me vp, and yet they let me fall. 135 

Melos, They giue me life, and yet they let me dye. 

Ste, But as thou wilt, so giue me sweet or sowre: 

For in thy pleasure must be my content 
Iphi. Whether thou drawe me on, or put me back, 

I must admyre thy beauties wildernesse. 140 

Lear. And as thou wilt, so let me stand or fall : 

Loue hath decreed thy word must goueme me« 
Melos. And as thou wilt, so let me liue or dye. 

In life or death I must obey thy wyll. 
Pan. I please my selfe in your humility, 145 

Yet will I make some triall of your &ith, 

Before I stoope to fauour your complaints: 

For wot ye well Pandora knowes her worth. 

He that will purchase things of greatest prize. 

Must conquer by his deeds, and not by words: 150 

Go then all foure, and slay the sauadge Boare, 

Which roauing vp and downe with ceaselesse rage, 

Destroyes the fruit of our Vtopian fields, 
/ And he that first presents me with his head, 

Shall weare my gloue in fauour of the deed. 155 

Melos. We go Pandora. 
Lear. Nay we runne! 

Ste. We flye! 

(^Exeunt Shepherds.) 
Pan. Thus must Pandora exercise these swaines, 

Commaunding them to daungerous exploits: 

And were they kings my beautie should commaund. 

Sirra Gunaphilus beare vp my traine. 160 

Exit Pandora and Gunoph. 

Enter Mars. 

Mars. Mars comes intreated by the Queene of heauen, 
To summon loue from this his regiment: 
Such iealious humor croweth in her braine. 
That she is mad till he retume from hence. 
(^Louder.) Now Soueraigne loue king of immortal kings, 165 

139 thou] they F. 159 were they] where thy F. 


Thy louely luno long hath lookt for thee, 

And till thou come thinkes euery howre a yeere. 

(^Reenter Jupiter ahove^ with Ganymede.) 

Jup. And lout will go the sooner to asswage 

Her franticke, idle, and suspitious thoughts, 

For well I know Pandora troubles her, 170 

Nor will she calme the tempest of her minde. 

Til with a whirlwinde of outragious words^ 

She beat mine eares, and weep curst hart away. 

He descends {with Ganymede). 

Yet will I go, for words are but a blasts 

And sun-shine wil insue when stormes are past. 175 

Exit Tvith Ganimede. (Mars ascends,) 
Mars in his seate. Now bloudy Mars begins to play his part. 

He worke such warre within Pandaraes brest, 

(And somewhat more for lunoes fa3rre request) 

That after all her churlishnesse and pride 

She shall become a vixen Martialist. 180 

Enter the foure Shepheards with the Boares head, 
Ste. Heere let vs stay till fayre Pandora come, 

And then shal Stesias haue his due rewarde. 
Iphi. And why not Iphicks as well as you ? 
Melos. The prize is mine, my sword cut off his head. 
Lear. But first my speare did wound him to the death. 185 

Ste, He fell not downe till I had goard his side, 
Lear. Content you all, Learchus did the deed, 

And I will make it good who eare sayes nay. 
Melos, Melos will dye before he lose his right. 
Iphi, Nay then tis time to snatch, the head is mine. 190 

Ste. Lay downe, or I shal lay thee on the earth. They fight. 

Enter Pandora and Gunophilus. 

Pan. I, so, fayre and far off, for feare of hurt. 
See how the cowards counterfet a fray : 
Strike home you dastard swaines, strike home, I say I 
Fight you in iest? let me bestur me then, 195 

And see if I can cudgel yee all foure. 

She snatcheth the speare out ^Stesias hand &* layes about her, 

s. D. [Re-enter Jup. &&] required by U, 81 s. D., 175 s. d. 


Gun, What? is my mistresse mankinde on the sudden? 
Lear. Alas! why strikes Pandora her best friends? 
Pan. My friends ? base pesants ! My friends would fight like men : 
Auaunt! or I shall lay you all for dead. aoo 

Exeunt^ all sauing Stesias. 
Sie^ See cruell fa3rre, how thou hast wrongd thy friend, 

He sheweth his shirt all bloudy. 
To spill his bloud that kept it but for thee. 
Thers my desart: And here is my rewarde, 

Pointing first to the head on the ground : and then to his wound. 

I dare not say of an ingratefull minde, 

But if Pandora had been well aduisd, 205 

This dare I say, that Stesias had been sparde. 

Pan. Begon I say, before I strike againe. 

Gun. O stay sweet mistresse and be satisfied. 

Pan. Base vassall, how darst thou presume to speake? 209 

Wilt thou incounter any deed of mine? She beats him. 

How long haue you beene made a counseller? 

Exit GuNOPH., running away, 

Ste. Here strike thy fill, make lauish of my life, 
That in my death my loue may finde reliefe: 
Launce vp my side, that when my heart leapes out, 
Thou maist behold how it is scorcht with loue, 215 

And euery way croswounded with desire: 
There shalt thou read my passions deepe ingrauen, 
,And in the midst onely Pandoraes name. 

Pan. What telst thou me of loue and fancies fire? 

Fyre of debate is kindled in my hart, 220 

And were it not that thou art all vnarmd. 

Be sure I should make tryall of thy strength : 

But now the death of some fierce sauadge beast. 

In bloud shall end my furies tragedie, 224 

For fight I must, or else my gall will burst. Exit Pand. 

Ste. Ah ruthlesse hart! harder then Adamant, 
Whose eares are deafe against affections plaints. 
And eyes are blinde, when sorrow sheds her teares: 
Neither contented that I liue nor dye. 

X99 My friends would . . . men as seftaraie line in Q F. S. D. Exeunt, all 

saning Stesias— 1. e, the other thru shepherds 

2s6 THE WOMAN IN THE MOONE [actii,sc.i 

But fondling as I am, why grieue I thus? a 30 

Is not Pandora mistris of my life? 

Yes, yes, and euery act of hers is iust. 

Her hardest words are but a gentle winde: 

Her greatest wound is but a pleasing harme: 234 

Death at her hands is but a second life. Exit Stesi. 

Mars descendeth. 

Mars. Mars hath inforst Pandora gainst her kinde, 
To manage armes and quarrell with her friends: 
And thus I leaue^her, all incenst with yre: 
Let Sol coole that which I haue set on fire. Exit, 

Actus 2. finis. 

ACT. 3. 

SCENA. 1. 

Enter Sol and take his seate. 

Sol. In looking downe vpon this baser worlde, 
I long haue seene and rude Pandoraes harmes; 
But as my selfe by nature am inclinde, 
'/ So shall she now become, gentle and kinde, 

Abandoning all rancour, pride, and rage, 5 

And changing from a Lion to a Lambe; 

She shalbe louing, liberall, and chaste, 

Discreete and patient, mercifuU and milde. 

Inspired with poetry and prophesie, 

And vertues apperteyning womanhoode. 10 

Enter Pandora with Gunophilus 

Pan. Tell me Gunophilus how doth Stesias now? 
How fares he with his wound? vnhappy me, 
That so vnkindely hurt so kind a friende ! 
But Stesias^ if thou pardon what is past, 

I shall rewarde thy sufTeraunce with loue, 15 

These eyes that were like two malignant starres, 
Shall yeeld thee comfort with their sweet aspect ; 

a rued F. 17 thee] their Q F. 


And these my lippes that did blaspheme thy loue, 
Shall speake thee fayre and blesse thee with a kisse; 
And this my hand that hurt thy tender side, ao 

Shall first with herbes recure the wound it made, 
Then plight my fa5rth to thee in recompence. 
And thou Gunophilus I pray thee pardon me. 
That I misdid thee in my witles rage, 

As time shall yeelde occasioni be thou sure 35 

I will not fayle to make thee some amends* 
Gun, I so content me in this pleasaunt calme^ 

That former stormes are vtterly foigot. 


Enter (Jhe) faure Shepherdes. 

Lear, We follow still in hope of grace to come. 

Jphi, O sweete Pandora! deigne our humble suites. 30 

Melos, O graunt me loue or wound me to the death i 

Pan, Stand vp: Pandora is no longer' proudi 

But shames at folly of her former deedes. ^^ 

But why standes Siestas like a man dismayde? 

Draw neare, I say, and thou, with all the rest, 35 

Forgiue the rigour of Pandoraes hand. 

And quite forget the faultes of my disdayne* 

Now is the time if you consent all foure. 

Wherein He make amends for olde offence. 

One of you foure shalbe my wedlocke mate, * 40 

And all the rest my welbeloued friendea: 

But vowe you here in presence of the Gods, 

That when I choose, my choyse shall please you all. 
Ste. Then make I vowe, by Pallas shepherds QueenCy 

That Siestas will alowe Pandoraes choyse. 45 

But if he speede that lesse deserues then I, 

He rather dye, then grudge or make complaynt. 
Melos, I sweare the like by all our country gods. 
Iphi, And I by our Dianes holy head. 

Lear, -And I by Ceres and her sacred Nymphes. 50 

Pan, Then loue and Hymen blesse me in my choyse. 

You all are young and all are louely fayre, 

All kinde, and curteous and of sweete demeane, 

35 rest Q 44 Pallas* F, 

BOND in S 


All right and valiaunt, all in flowring prime; 

But since you graunt my will his libertie, 55 

Come Stesias take Pandora by the hand, 

And with my hand I plight my spotles fayth. 
Ste. The word hath almost slayne me with delight. 
Lear, The worde with sorowe killeth me outright 
Meios, O happy Stesias^ but vnhappy mel 60 

Ipht. Come let vs goe, and weepe our want els where: 

Stesias hath got Pandora from vs all. 

Exeunt (Learchus, Melds, and Iphicles). 
Pan, Their sad depart would make my hart to eame. 

Were not the ioyes that I conceaue in thee: 

GOi go, GunopkUus without delay, 65 

Gather me balme and cooling Violets, 

And of our holly hearbe Nicotian, 

And bring with all pure hunny from the hyue, 

That I may heere compound a wholsome salue. 

To heale the wound of my vnhappy hand. 70 

Gun. I goe. {Exit.^ 

Ste, Blest be the hand that made so happy wound. 

For in my sufferance haue I wonne thy loue; 

And blessed thou, that hauing tryed my faith^ 

Hast giuen admittance to my harts desert: 75 

Now all is well, and all my hurt is whole. 

And I in paradise of my delight. 

Come, louely spouse, let vs go walke the woods, 

Where warbling birds recorde our happines. 

And whisling leaues make musick to our myrthe, 80 

And Flora strews her bowre to welcome thee. 
Pan. But first sweet husband, be thou ruld by me: 

Go make prouision for some holy rytes. 

That zeale may prosper our new ioyned loue, 

And by and by my selfe will follow thee. 85 

Ste. Stay not my deere, for in thy lookes I Hue. Exit. 

Pan. I feele my selfe inspyrd, but wot not how, 

Nor what it is, vnlesse some holy powre: 

My heart foretels me many things to come, 

And I am full of vnacquainted skil^ 90 

64 Were not the Q/*. (/*. fnisriporting Q as Where notthe) 85 follw Q 


Yet such as wil not issue from my tongue, 

But like Sibillaes goulden prophesies, 

AiTecting rather to be clad in verse 

(The certaine badge of great Apolloes gift) 

Then to be spred and soyld in vulgar words; 95 

And now to ease the burden of my bulke. 

Like Sibill^ thus Pandora must begin* 

Enter Stesias, 

Ste, Come my Pandora^ Siestas stayes for thee. 

Pan, Peace man, with reuerence here & note my words. 

For from Pandora speakes the Lawreat God, 100 

Vtopice Stesias Phcenici soluit amorem^ 
Numina azlorum dum pia prcecipiunt 
And backward thus the same, but double sence. 
Ptacipiunt pia dum celorum Numina^ amarem 

Soluit Phcenici Stesias Vtopia. 105 

He soberly repeating these verses^ first forward and then backward, 

Ste. If soluere amorem signifie to loue, 
Then meanes this prophesie good to Stesias; 
But if it signifie to withdrawe loue, 
Then is it ill aboadement to vs both : 

But speake Pandora while the God inspyres. no 

Pan. Idaliis prior hie pueris est: eequoris Alti 
Pulchrior hec nymphis, &* prior Aoniis. 
And backward thus, but still all one in sense. 
Aoniis prior, &» nytnphis hec pulchrior cUti 
jEquoris est: pueris hie prior Idaliis, 115 

He soberly repeating these cUso, backward and forward^ sayeth 
Ste. Forward and back, these also are alike. 

And sence all one, the pointing only changd: 

They but import Pandoraes praise and mine. 
Pan. Euen now beginneth my furie to retyre, 

And now with Stesias hence wil I retyre. Exeunt. lao 

9a Siballaes Q F. loi soluit Q F. ; query t solnet 105 Utopia F. 

117 the] this/: 

S 2 


SCEN. 2. 

Enter Venus {with Cupid and Joculus). 

, {Venus,") Fhcsbus away, thou makst her too precise, 
^ He haue her wittie, quick, and amorous, 

Delight in reuels and in banqueting, 

Wanton discourses, musicke and merrie songes. 

(Sol descends,) 
Sol. Bright Cyprian Queene, intreate Pandora fayre. 5 

For though at first Phcebus enuied her lookes. 

Yet now doth he admire her glorious hew. 

And sweares that neyther Daphne in the spring, 

Nor glistering Thetis in her orient robe. 

Nor shamefast morning gert in siluer cloudes, lo 

Are halfe so louely as this earthly sainte. • 

Venus, And being so fayre my beames shall make her light, 
V For Leuety is Beauties wayting mayde. 
Sol, Make Chastity Fandoraes wayting mayde^ 

For modest thoughtes beseemes a woman best. 15 

Venus. Away with chastity and modest thoughts. 

Quo mihi fortuna si non conceditur vti? 

Is she not young? then let her to the worlde: 

All those are strumpets that are ouer chaste. 

Defying such as keepe their company. 20 

Tis not the touching of a womans hand. 

Kissing her lips, hanging about her necke, 

A speaking looke, no, nor a yeelding worde. 

That men expect ; beleeue me Sol tis more. 

And were Mars here he would protest as much. 25 

Sol, But what is more then this is worse then nought: 

{Aside,) I dare not stay least she infect me too. Exit, 

Venus. What, is he gone? then light foote loculus^ 

Set me Pandora in a dauncing vayne. 
Joe, Fayre mother I will make Pandora blyth, 30 

And like a Satyre hop vpon these playnes. Exit. 

Venus. Go Cupid giue her all the golden shafts, 

s. D. [with Cupid and Joe.] rtauired by II. 30 and 34 s. d. [Sol descends] 
om. Q A 13 Leoety P, : Lenety Q (fumed a) 17 tortnna Q : for- 

tnnse P, : see note 3a the Q /1 : 2^^. f thy 



And she will take thee for a forrester. 
Cupid, I will and you shall see her streight in loue. Exit, 

Venus asandeth, 
Venus. Here Venus sit, and with thy influence 35 

Goueme Pandora^ Natures miracle. 

Enter Pandora {with Cupid) and Ioculus. 

Pan, Prethee be quiet, wherefore should I daunce? 
/oc. Thus daunce the Satyrs on the euen lawnes. 
Pan, Thus, prety Satyr, will Pandora daunce. 
Cupid, And thus will Cupid make her melody. 40 

He shootes. 

( They dance and sing as follows) 

Joe. Were I a man I could loue thee. 
Pan. I am a mayden, wilt thou haue me? 
Joe. But Stesias saith you are not. 

Pan. What then? I care not. 

Cup. Nor I. 

Joe. Nor I. 45 

Pan. Then merely 

Farewell my maydenhead. 
These be all the teares He shed ; 
Tume about amd tryppe it. 

Venus. Cupid and loculuSy come leaue her now. 50 

Exeunt (Cup. and Joc.>. 
Pan. The boyes are gone and I will follow them. 

I will not follow them, they are to young. 

What bony thoughts are in Pandoraes brayne? 

Hospitis est tepedo necte recepta sui. 

Ah I enuie her, why was not I so? 55 

And so will I be: where is Iphicles^ 

Melos^ Learchus? any of the three? 

I cure the sicke? I study Poetry? 

I thinke of honour and of chastitie? 

No: loue is fitter then Pandoraes thoughts; 60 

s. D. [They dance and sing &c] not in Q F. which print song as prose 46 

merely i.e, merrily 54 necte : both in Br. Mus, copy and in Dyce copy the first 
eis a little blurred or bcUtered, In Br, Mus. it is more like e than o, while in the 
Dyce copy an original o seems to have been inked with a pen into an e. Both copies 
read tepedo quite clearly 60 then Q F.\ qy,f for 



Yet not the loue of Siestas alone; 

Learchus is as £siyre as Siestas, 

And Meios loulier then Learchus farre, 

But might I chose, I would haue Iphtcles, 

And of them all Siestas deserues the least. 65 

Must I be tyde to him? no He be loose, 

As loose as Heien^ for I am as fayre. 

Enter Gunophilus. 

{Gun.y Mistresse, here be the hearbs for my maisters wound. 
Pan. Prety Gunophilus^ give me the hearbs: 

Where didst thou gather them my louely boye? 70 

Gun, Vpon Learchus plaine. 
Pan, I feare me Cupid daunst vpon the plaine, 

I see his arrow head vpon the leaues. 
Gun. And I his golden quiuer and his bowe. 
Pan. Thou doost dissemble, but I meane good sooth. 75 

These hearbes haue wrought some wondrous effect: 

Had they this vertue from thy Lilly hands? 

Lets see thy hands my fayre Gunophilus. 
Gun. It may be they had, for I haue not washt them this many 
a day. 80 

Pan. Such slender fingers hath loues Ganymede: 

Gunophilus, I am loue sick for thee. 

Gun. O that I were worthy you should be sick for me ! 
Pan. I languish for thee, therefore be my loue. 

Gun. Better you languish, then I be beaten ! Pardon me, I dare 
not loue, because of my Maister. 86 

Pan. He hide thee in a wood, and keepe thee close. 

Gun. But what if he come a hunting that way? 
Pan. He say thou art a Satyre of the woods. 

Gun. Then I must haue homes. 90 

Pan. I, so thou shalt, He giue thee Siesias homes. 

Gun. Why he hath none. 

Pan. But he may haue shortly. 

Gun. Yee say true, and of that condition I am yours. 

Enier Learchus. 

Lear. I may not speake of loue, for I haue vowd 95 

Nere to soUicit her, but rest content; 


Therefore onely gaze, eyes, to please your selues, 

Let not my inward sence know what you see, 

Least that my fancie doate vpon her stilL 

Pandora is diuine, but say not so, 100 

Least that thy heart heare thee and breake in twaine. 

I may not court her : what a hell is this I 
Pan, Gunophilus: He haue a banquet streight, 

Goe thou, prouide it, and then meete me here. 
Gun, I will; but by your leaue He stay a while. 105 

Lear, Happy are those that be Pandoraes guestes. 
Pan, Then happy is Learchus^ he is my guest. 
Lear, And greater ioy doe 1 conceaue therein, 

Then Tantalus that feasted with the Gods. 

Gun. Mistres, the banquet ^ no 

Pan, What of the banquet? 

Gun, You haue bid no body to it. 

Pan, Whats that to you? Goe and prepare it. 

Gun, And in the meane time you will be in loue ¥rith him. 
I pray let me stay, and bid him prepare the banquet. 115 

Pan, Away, ye peasant! 

Gun, Now she begins to loue me. (^Exit,) 

Pan, Learchus had I markt this golden hayre, 

I had not chosen Stesias for my loue, 

But now {sighs), lao 

Lear, Louely Pandora^ if a shepherds teares 

May moue thee vnto rueth, pity my state. 

Make me thy loue, though Stesias be thy choyse, 

And I in steade of loue will honour thee. 
Pan, {aside). Had he not spoke I should haue courted him: 125 

Wilt thou not say Pandora is to light, 

If she take thee insteede of Stesias 1 
Lear, Rather ile dye then haue but such a thought. 
Pan, Then shepheard this kisse shalbe our nuptials. 
Lear, This kisse hath made me welthier then Pan, 130 

Pan, Then come agayne: Now be as great as loue, 
Lear, Let Stesias neuer touch these lippes agayne. 
Pan. None but Learchus: Now sweet loue begone, 

Least Stesias take thee in this amarous vayne; 

But go no farther then thy bower my loue, 135 

lie steale from Stesias and meete thee streight. 

264 THE WOMAN IN THE MOONE [act iii 

Zaot. I will Pandora, and agaynst thou comst, 

Strew all my bower with fiagges and water mints. Exit 

Pan, A husband? what a folish word is that! 

Giue me a louer, let the husband goe. 140 

Enter Melos {and Iphicles). 

Meios, O Iphicles beholde the heauenly Nymphe. 

Iphi. We may beholde her, but she scomes our loue. 

Pan, Are these the shepherds that made loue to me? 

Melos, Yesi^ and the shepherds that yet loue thee still. 

Iplii. O that Pandora would regard my suite! 145 

Pan, They looke like water Nymphes, but speake like men : 

Thou should be Nature in a mans attire, 

And thou young Ganimayde Minion to loue, 
Melos,T^eci would I make a worlde and giue it thee. 
Jphi, Then would I leaue great loue, to follow thee. 150 

Pan, (^aside). Melos is loneliest, Melos is my loue; 

Come hether Melos I must tell thee newes, 

Newes tragicall to thee and to thy flock. 

She whispers in his eare, 

Melosy I loue thee, meete me in the vale. 

She speakes ahude. 

I saw him in the Wolues mouth, Melos flye. 155 

Melos. O that so fayre a Lambe should be deuoured : 

lie goe and rescue him. (^Exit Melos.) 

Jphi, Could Iphicles goe from thee for a Lambe? 

The wolfe take all my flocke, so I haue thee! 

Will me to diue for pearle into the sea, 160 

To fetch the fethers of the Arabian bird, 

The Golden Apples from the Hesperian wood, 

Maremaydes glasse. Floras abbiliment, 

So I may haue Pandora for my loue. 
Pan, He that would do all this, must loue me well; 165 

And why should he loue me and I not him? 

Wilt thou for my sake goe into yon groue^ 
/ And we will sing vnto the wilde birdes notes. 

And be as pleasant as the Western winde, 

s. D. [and Iphicles] added F, 163 The before Maremaydes F, : but the ward 
is meant as trisyUabie 


That kisses flowers and wantons with their leaues. 170 

IpM, Will I ? O that Pandora would ! 
Pan, I will ! and therefore followe, IphicUs. Exeunt, 

Enter Stesias with Gunophilus. 

Ste, Did base Learchus court my heauenly loue? 

Pardon me Pan if, to reuenge this deed, 

I shed the blood of that desembling swaine. 175 

With lealous fire my heart begins to bume. 

Ah bring me where he is, Gunophilus^ 

Least he intice Pandora from my bower. 
Gun, I know not where he is, but here heele be: 

I must prouide the banquet, and be gone. 180 

Ste, What! will the shepherds banquet with my wife? 

O light Pandora canst thou be thus false? 
• Tell me where is this wanton banquet kept? 

That I may hurle the dishes at their heades, 

Mingle the wine with blood, and end the feast 1S5 

With Tragicke outcries, like the Theban Lord 

Where fayre Hippodamia was espousd. 
Gun, Here in this place, for so she poynted me. 
Ste, Where might I hide me to behold the same? 
Gun. O, in this caue, for ouer this theyle sitte. 190 

(^Pointing to a trapdoor,) 
Ste, But then I shall not see them when they kisse. 

Gun. Yet you may here what they say; if they kisse ile 
Ste, But do so then my sweete Gunophilus ; 

And as a stronge winde bursting from the earth, 195 

So will I rise out of this hollow vault, 

Making the woods shake with my furious wordes. 

Gun, But if they come not at all, or when they come do vse 
themselues honestly, then come not out, least you seeming lealious 
make her ouer hate you. 200 

Ste, Not for the worlde vnles I heare thee call. 

Or els their wanton speech prouoke me forth. 

Gun. Well, in then I (Stesias descends through the trap.) Wert 
not a prety iest to bury him quicke ? I warrant it would be a good 

189 heboid Q 195 bunting F. : bnising Q 



while eare she would scratch him out of his graue with her nayles, 205 
and yet shee might too, for she hath digd such vaults in my face that 
ye may go from my chinne to my eyebrowes betwixt the skin and 
the flesh ! wonder not at it, good people ! I can proue there hath 
bene two or three marchantes with me to hire romes to lay in wine : 
but that they doe not stand so conueniently as they wold wish, (for a 10 
indeed they are euery one too neare my mouth, and I am a great 
drinker) I had had a quarters rent before hand. Wei, be it knowne 

/ vnto all men that I haue done this to cornute my mayster, for yet 
I could neuer have opportunities You would litle thinke, my necke 
is growne awry with loking back as I haue been a kissing, for feareaif 

1/ he should come, and yet it is a fayre example ; beware of kissing, 
bretheren ! (^The trap rises slightly,) What ! doth the caue open? 

V ere she and he haue done heele picke the lock with his home. 

Enter Pandora. 

Pan. Now haue I playde with wanton Iphicles, 

Yea, and kept touch with Melos^ both are pleased; 220 

Now, were Learchus here! — but stay, me thinkes 

Here is GunophiluSy He goe with him. 

Gun, (^speaking low), Mistres, my mayster is in this caue thinking 
to meete you and Learchus here. 
Pan, {same tone). What, is he lealious? come Gunophilus 225 

In spite of him He kisse thee twenty times. 

Gun, O looke how my lippes quiuer for feare ! 
Pan. (^louder, for Stesias' ear). Where is my husband ? speake 

Gun. He is in the woods, and will be here anon. 
Pan. (flower). I, but he shall not. 230 

(^Louder ^ as before.) His fellow swaines will meete me in this 

Who for his sake I meane to entertayne, 

If he knew of it he would meete them here. 

Ah ! where so ere he be, safe may he be ! 

Thus hold I vp my hands to heauen for him, 235 

Thus weepe I for my deere loue Stesias! 
Gun. When will the shepheards come? 
Pan. Imediately ; prepare the banquet streight : 

215 awry/'.: away Q 


Meane time He pray that Siestas may be here. 

(Lower agatnJ) Bring Iphkles and Melos with thee, and tell 
them 240 

Of my husband Descendit ad inferos^ 
Gun. Youle loue them then? 
Fan, No, onely thee, yet let them sitte with me. 
Gun, Content, so you but sit with them. . Eocit. 

Enter Learchus. 

Lear. Why hath Pandora thus deluded me? 245 

Fan, Learchus^ whist! my husbands in this caue, 

Thinking to take vs together here ! 
Lear, Shall I slay him, and enioy thee still? 
Fan, No! let him Hue, but had he Argos eyes, 

He should not keepe me from Learchus loue: 250 

Thus will I hang about Learchus necke. 

And sucke out happinesse from forth his lippes. 
Lear, And this shalbe the heauen that He ayme at. 

Enter Gunophilus {with glasses, &*c, for banquet). 

Gun, Sic vos non vobis, sic vos non vobis, 

Lear, What meanst thou by that? 255 

Gun, Here is a coment vpon my wordes. 

He throwes the Giasse downe and breakes it. 

Fan. Wherefore doest thou breake the giasse? 

Gun, He answere it : shall I prouide a banquet and be cosend 
of the best dish ? I hope, syr, you haue sayde grace, and now 
may I fall too. 260 

He takes his mistres by the hand and imbraceth her, 

Lear. Away, base swayne! 

Gun, Sir, as base as I am, He goe for currant here. 

Lear, What? will Pandora be thus light? 

Gun, O ! you stand vpon the weight ! wel if she were twenty 
graines lighter I would not refuse her, prouided alwayes she be 
not dipt within the ringe. a66 

Fan, Gunophilus, thou art too malepert! 

<-4w^ /^ Learchus.) Thinke nothing, for I can not shift him 

247 vs] qy, /*v8 both metr.gra. 248 and] qy, ftmdsotMtr.gra, thc« 

Q : the F, 250 not Q: no F, 258 it :] it, Q F. 


(7b Gun.) Sirra, prouide the banquet you are best. 269 

Gun. I will! and that incontinently! for indeed I cannot 
abstein. Exit, 

Pan. Here, take thou Melos fauours, keep it close, 

For he and Iphicks will streight be here; 

I loue them not, they both importune me. 

Yet must I make as. if I loue them both; 275 

Here they come. 

Welcome Learchus to Pandoraes feast. 

(^Re-enter Gunophilus with viands^ &*c.} 

Enter Melos and Iphicles {meeting). 

Melos. What makes Learchus here ? 

Iphi. Wherefore should Melos banquet with my loue? 

Lear. My heart ryseth agaynst this Iphicles. aSo 

Pan. MeloSy my loue! Sit downe, sweete Iphicles. 

{Confers with Iphi. apart.) 
Melos. She daunts Learchus with a strange aspect. 
Lecu'. I like not that she whispers vnto him. 
Iphi. {aside to Pand.). I warrant you. 
Pan. Her<e')s to the health of Stesias my loue, 285 

Would he were here to welcome you all three. 
Melos. I will go seeke him in the busky groues. 
Gun. You lose your labour then, he is at his flocke. 
Pan. I, he wayes more his flocke then me. 
{Lear.) She weepes. 

Iphi. Weepe not Pandora^ for he loues thee well. 290 

Pan. And I loue him. 

Iphi. But why is Melcs sad? 

Melos. For thee I am sad, thou hast iniured me. 
Pan. Knowes not Melos I loue him? 
Iphi. Thou iniurest me, and I wilbe reuenged ! 
Pan. Hath Iphicles forgot my wordes? 295 

Gun. {aside). If I should hollow they were all vndone. 
Lear, {aside). They both are lealious, yet mistrust me not! 
Iphi. Here, Melos I 
Melos. I pledge thee, Iphicles. 

285 Here's] Hen O: Her*8 F. 289 Pan. Q\ Gun. F. She weepes.] 

itals, tviikout cap. S in one line with preceding^ Qi as stage- directum, F. : but 
rehired in text to complete the line. I prefix Lear. 


Pan, (jaside to Lear.). Learchus goe, thou knowst my minde. 300 
Lear, {aside). Shall I sit here thus to be made a stale? 

Louely Pandora meanes to follow me: 

Farewell this feast, my banquet comes not yet* Exit, 

Jphi, Let him goe. 

Melos, Pandora go with me to Stesias, 305 

Jphi, No, rather goe with me. 
Melos, Away, base Iphicles! 

Iphi, Coward! hand of! or els He. strike thee downe! 
Pan, My husband heres you ! — {Louder,) Will you striue for wine ? 

Giue vs a fresh cup, I will haue ye friends. 310 

Melos, I defie thee, Iphicles! 
Iphi, I thee, Melos! 
Gun, Both of them are drunke ! 
Melos {to Pand.). Is this thy loue to me? 

Pan, Nay, if you fall out, farewell. {Aside,) Now will I goe 
meet Learchus, Exit Pand. 316 

Iphi, I see thy lugling, thou shalt want thy will. 
Melos, Follow me if thou darst, and fight it out. 
Iphi, If I dare ? Yes I dare, and will ! Come thou. 

{Exeunt Mel. and Iph.) 
Gun, Hollow ! hollow ! 330 

Stesias riseth out of the cam, 
Ste, Where is the villayne that hath kist my loue? 
Gun, No body, mayster. 
Ste. Why striue they then? 

Gun, Twas for a cup of wine, they were all drunke. 
Ste, Whither is my wife gone? 325 

Gun, To seeke you. 

Ste, Ah ! Pandora^ pardon me ! thou art chaste. Thou madst 
me to suspect her, take thou that {Beating Gun.) 

Gun. O mayster ! I did for good will to you ! 

Ste, And I beat thee for good will to her. What hast thou 
to doe betwixt man and wife? 

Gun, Too much with the man, too litle with the wife. 333 

Finis Actus tertij, 

330 s. D. Stesias F,\ He Q 

2 70 THE WOMAN IN THE MOONE [act iv 

ACT. 4. 

ScEN. 1 {with transfer at L 294). 

Enter Mercury. 

Mer, Empresse of loue, giue Hermes leaue to reigne, 

My course comes next, therefore resigne to me. 

Descend Venus. 
Venus. Ascend, thou winged purseuant of loue, 
Mer, Now shall Pandora be no more in loue; 

And all these swaines that were her fauorits 5 

Shall vnderstand their mistres hath playde false, 

And lothing her blab all to Stesias. 

Now is Pandora in my regiment, 
v/ And I will make her false and full of slights, 

Theeuish, lying, suttle, eloquent; xo 

For these alone belong to Mercury. 

Enter Melds, Learchus, Iphicles. 

Jphi. Vnkind Pandora to delude me thus. 

Lear. Too kinde Learchus that hath loude her thus. 

Melcs, Too foolish Melos that yet dotes on her. 

Lear. Blacke be the luory of her tysing face. 15 

Melos. Dimde be the sun shine of her rauishing eyes. 

Iphi^ Fayre may her face be, beautifull her eyes! 

Lear. O IphicUs abiure her, she is false! 

Jphi. To thee Learchus and to Melos false. 

Melos. Nay, to vs all too false and full of guile. 20 

Lear. How many thousand kisses gaue she me, 

And euery kisse mixt with an amorous glaunce. 
Melos. How oft haue I leand on her siluer breast. 

She singing on her Lute, and Melos being the note. 
Jphi. But waking, what sweete pastime haue I had, 25 

For loue is watchfuU, and can neuer sleepe. 
Melos. But ere I slept — 
Lear. When I had list — 

Jphi. What then ? 

3 lone Q : lore F. 5 her Q : were F. 6 there Q F. 


Meios. Cater a quis nesciti 

Lear. Melos preuents me that I should haue sayd. 

Iphi, Blush IphicUs and in thy Rosie cheekes 30 

Let all the heat that feeds thy heart appeare. 
Lear, Droope not fayre Iphicles for her misdeeds: 

But to reuenge it hast to Stesias, 
Melos. Yea he shall know she is lasciuious. 
Iphi, In this compls^nt He ioyne with thee^ let vs go. 35 

Lear, Stay, heere he comes. 

Enter Stesias with Gunophjlus. 

Ste, O Stesias what a heauenly loue hast thou ! 
A loue as chaste as is ApoUoes tree: 
As modest as a vestall Virgins eye, 

And yet as bright as Glow wormes in the night, 40 

With which the morning decks her louers hayre. 

fayre Pandora^ blessed Stesias! 
Jphi. O foule Pandora^ cursed Stesias! 
Ste, What meanst thou Iphicles J 

Melos. Ah ! is she fayre that is lasciuious ? 45 

Or that swaine blest that she makes but a stale? 
Lear, He meanes thy loue, vnhappy Stesias. 
Ste. My loue? no, Shepheards, this is but a stale, 

To make me hate Pandora whom I loue: 

So whispered late the false Gunophilus ; 50 

Let it suffice that I beleeue you not. 
Jphi. Loue is deafe, blinde, and incredulous; 

1 neuer hung about Pandaraes neck. 

She neuer termd me fayre and thee black swaine. 
Melos. She playd not vnto Melos in her bowre, 55 

Nor is his greene bowre strewd with Primrose leaues. 
I^ar. I kist her not, nor did she terme me loue; 

Pandora is the loue of Stesias. 

(^Exeunt Lear. Iph. and Mel.) 

Ste. Sirra! bid your Mistres come hether. 59 

Gun. I shall syr. Exit, 

Ste. 'I neuer hung about Pandaraes neck/ — 

'She playde not vnto Melos in her bower,' — 

S.D. [Exeunt Lear. &c.] suggested F, 61-3 * I neuer &€.*] quctaiUm-'marks 
suppl F. 


'I kist her not^ nor did she terme me loue;' — 

These wordes argue Pandora to be light. 

She playde the wanton with these amarous swaines, 65 

By all these streames that interlaced these floodes, 

Which may be venom to her thirstie soule^ 

He be reuenged as neuer shepherd was! 

Now foule Pandora^ wicked Stesias. 

Enter Gunophilus and Pandora. 

Gun. Mistres tis.true, I hard them, venter not. 70 

Pan, Fenced with her tongue, and garded with her wit, 

Thus goeth Pandora vnto Stesias. 
Ste. Detested falsor! that to Stesias eyes 

Art more infestious then the Basiliske. 
Pan. Gunophilus^ Pandora is vndone 1 75 

Her loue, her ioy, her life hath lost his wits ! 

OiTer a Kyd in Esculapius fane, 

That he may cure him, least I dye outright. 

Gun. {aside). He offer it Esculapius^ but he shall not haue him, 
for when he comes to him selfe I must answer it. 80 

Pan. Go, I say! 
Ste. Stay ! I am well, tis thou that makst me raue. 

Thou playdst the wanton with my fellow swaynes. 
Pan. Then dye, Pandora! art thou in thy wits, 84 

And calste me wanton ? Shefals dawne. 

Gun. O Maister! what haue you done? 
Ste. Diuine Pandora! rise and pardon me! 
Pan. I cannot but forgiue thee Stesias^ 

But by this light, if 

Gun. {aside). Looke how she winkes. 

Ste. O stay, my loue ! I know twaa their deuise. 90 

Pan. He that will winne me must haue Stesias shape, 

Such golden hayre, such Alabaster lookes; 

Wilt thou know wl^ I loued not Jupiter? 

Because he was vnlike my Stesias. 
Ste. Was euer silly shepherd thus abusd? 95 

All three afirmd Pandora held them deare. 

66 interlaced so Q F. 71 Fenced F, : Fence Q 74 insestions Q {com^ 

fotitor pUJting up long %for f) F. 77 Esciilapias Q F. 88 cmanot, but F. 

89 Looke Q : Looke, Fi qy. t Looke yoa 


Pan, It was to bring me in disgrace with thee, 

That they might haue some hope I would be theirs. 

I cannot walke but they importune me. 

How many amarous letters haue they sent! zoo 

What giftes ! yet all in vayne : to proue which true, 

He beare this slaunder with a patient minde, 

Speeke them all fayre, and ere the sunne go downe, 

rie bring thee where they vse to lie in wait, 

To robbe me of my honour in the groues. Z05 

Ste, Do so sweete wife, and they shall buy it deare. 

I cannot stay, my sheepe must to the fould. Exit, 

Pan, Go Siestas as simple as a sheepe; 

And now Pandora summon all thy wits, 

To be reuenged vpon these long-toungd swaynes. no 

Gunophilus beare JphicUs this ring: 

Tell him I raue and languish for his loue: 

Will him to meete me in this meade alone, 

And sweare his fellowes haue deluded him. 

Beare this to Melos {handing a bloody napkin) ; say that for his 
sake X 15 

I stabd my selfe, and hadst not thou been neare, 

I had bene dead, but yet I am aliue^ 

Calling for Me/os whom I onely loue. 

And to Learchus beare these passionate lines. 

Which, if he be not flint, will make him come. zao 

Gun, I will, and you shall see how cunningly He vse them ; 
stay here, and I will send them to you one after another, and then 
vse them as your wisdome shall thinke good. Exit, 

Pan, That letter did I pen doubting the worst. 

And dipt the Napking in the Lambkins blood 125 

For Iphicles were he compact of Iron, 

My ring is Adamant to drawe him foorth, 

Let women learne by me to be reuengd. 

He make them bite their tongues and eate their wordes, 

Yea sweare vnto my husband all is false. 130 

My wit is plyant and inuention sharpe. 

To make these nouises that iniure me. 

{AsidCy as she sees Iph. approaching,) 

104 wait] weight Q F, iia laDgnish] language Q F, s. D. [handicg 

&c] required by IL 125,171 



Young Iphicles must boast I fauourd him, 

Here I protest as Helen to her loue: 

Oscula luctanti tantummodo pauca proteruus 135 

absiuiit : vlterius^ nil habet tile met. 

And whats a kisse? too much for Iphicles! 

{Enter Iphicles.) 
Jphi, (^aside). Melos is wily, and Learchus false, 

Here is Fandoraes ring, and she is mine! 

It was a stratagem layde for my loue. 140 

O foolish Iphicles^ what hast thou done? 

Must thou betray her vnto Stesiasi 
Pan. (^as if alone). Here will I sit till I see Iphicles^ 

Sighing my breath, out weeping my heart bloud. 

Go, soule, and fiye vnto my leefest loue, 145 

A fayrer subiect then Elysium. 
Jphi. {aside). Can I heare this? can I view her? O no! 
Fan. But I will view thee, my sweet Iphicles! 

Thy lookes are physicke, suffer me to gaze, 

That for thy sake am thus distempered. 150 

Iphi. Pale be my lookes to witnesse my amisse. 
Pan. And mine to shew my loue; louers are pale. 
Iphi. And so is Iphicles. 
Pan. And so Pandora; let me kisse my loue, 

And adde a better couler to his cheekes. 155 

Iphi. O bury all thy anger in this kisse. 

And mate me not with vttering my offence. 
Pan. Who can be angrie with one whom she loues? 

Rather had I to haue no thoughts at all. 

Then but one ill thought of my Iphicles: x6o 

Go vnto Stesias and deny thy words. 

For he hath thrust me from his cabanet. 

And as I haue done, I will loue thee still: 

Delay no time, hast, gentle Iphicles: 

And meete me on Enipeus sedgy bankes. 165 

Iphi. When shall I meet thee? tell me my bright loue. 
Pan. At midnight, Iphicles; till then farewell! 
Iphi. Farewell Pandora! He to Stesias. Exit. 

135 proteruus] protemas Q {turned a) : Jience protenns F.^ wAa gratuitously 
transfers abstnlit to end of thts line 163 And Q : For F. 165 

Exupens] Enepeai Q F. 


Pan, Thus will I serue them all; now, Meios^ come, 

I loue thee too, as much as Iphicles, 170 

Enter Melds (with the bloody naphin). 

Melos, This is Pandoraes blood; hast, Meios^ hast I 

And in her presence launce thy flesh as deepe: 

Wicked Learchus^ subtill Jphicies : 

You haue vndone me by your reaching wit. 
Pan, Gunophilus I where is Gunpphiiusf 175 

Giue me the knife thou puUedst from my brest: 

Meios is gone, and left Pandora here; 

Witnesse yee wounds, witnesse yee siluer streames. 

That I am true, to Melos onely true, 

And he betrayde me vnto Siestas. iSo 

Melos. Forgiue me, loue, it was not I alone, 

It was Learchus, and false Iphicles. 
Pan, Tis not Learchus, nor that Jphicies, 

That greeues me, but that Melos is vnkinde; 

Melos J for whom Pandora straynd her voyce, 185 

Playing with euery letter of his name : 

Melos, for whom Pandora made this wounde : 

Melos, for whom Pandora now will dye! 
Melos. Diuine Pandora, stay thy desperat hand ! 

May summers lightning bume our Autumne crop, 190 

The thunders teeth plowe vp our fayrest groues, 

The scorching sun-beames dry vp all our springs, 

And ruffe windes blast the beauty of our plaines^ 

If Melos loue not thee, more then his heart. 
Pan. So Melos sweares, but tis a louers othe. 195 

Melos. Once guiltie, and suspected euermore! 

He nere be guiltie more, suspect me not 
Pan. Nor I suspect thee more, mistrust me not: 

Learchus neuer toucht Pandoraes lips, 

Nor Jphicies receaud a friendly word : 300 

Melos hath al my fauours, and for all 

Doe onely this, and He be onely thine. 

Go vnto Stesias and deny thy wordes. 

And as the sunne goes downe He meete thee heare, 

302 this,] F. transferred comma from end of preceding Urn 

T 2 


Melos, I will Pandora; and to cure thy wound, acs 

Receiue these vertuous hearbes which I haue found. 

(^Exit Melos.) 
Pan. A prety swayne worthy Pandoraes loue ! 

But I haue written to Learchus^ I, 

And I will keepe my promise though I dye; 

Enter Learchus with a letter^ and Gunophilus. 

Which is to cozen him as he did me. aio 

Lear, {reading), ^ Learchus^ my loue Learchus!^ O the iteration 
of my name argues her affection. ' Was it my desert ? thine, alas ! 
Pandora^ It was my destiny to be credulous to these mis- 

Gun, Looke, looke, she is writing to you agayne. 215 

Pan. What, is he come? then shall my tongue declayme. 

Yet am I bashfull and afeard to speake. 
Lear, Blush not, Pandora; who hath made most fault? 
Pan, I that soUicit thee which loues me not. 
Lear, I that betrayd thee, which offended not. 220 

Pan, Learchus pardon me ! 
Lear, Pandora pardon mee ! 

Gun, {aside). All friendes ! and so they kist. 
Pan, I can but smile to thinke thou wast deceiud. 

Learchus thou must to my husband streight, 325 

And say that thou art sory for thy wordes, 

And in the euening ile meete thee agayne, 

Vnder the same groue where we both sat last. 
Lear. I will. Pandora; but looke where he comes. 
Pan. Then giue me leaue to desemble. 250 

{Louder). Tis not thy sorrow that can make amends; 

Were I a man thou shouldst repent thy wordes ! 

{Enter Stesias.) 
Ste, Learchus will you stand vnto your wordes? 
Lear. O, Stesias I pardon me : twas their deceite. 

I am sory that I iniurd her. 235 

Ste. They lay the fault on thee, and thou on them; 

But take thee that. {Striking him.) 

Pan, Ah, Stesias, leaue; you shall not fight for me. 

211 [reading] suppi. F, The quarto prints speech as four lines of verse: 
Learchns . . . Learchus, — O the . . . affection, — Was it . . • Pandora, — It was . . . 
miscreants. Inv, com. suppL by F, 313 to' Q : on /*. 224 wast Q, slightly 
smeared: was^t F. 237 thee so QF, s. D. [Striking him] suppl. F. 


Go, goe, Learchus^ I am Stesiasses. 

Lear, Art thou? 240 

Gun, No, no, Learchus^ she doth but say so. 
Ste, Out of my ground Learchus^ from my land. 

And from hence forward come not neare my lawnes. 

Pandora come : Gunophilus away ! 34 % 

Pan, {aside to Lear.). Learchus meete me straight, the time 
drawes nigh. {Exit Pand. after Stes. and Gun.) 

Lear, The time draws nigh, — O that the time were now! 

I go to meete Pandora at the groue. Exit. 

Enter Melds. 

Melos, When will the sun go downe ? flye Phoebus flye ! 
O, that thy steeds were wingd with my swift thoughts : 
Now shouldst thou fall in Thetis azure armes ; 
And now would I fall in Pandoraes lap. 

Enter Iphicles. 

Jphi, Wherefore did Jupiter create the day? 

Sweete is the night when euery creature sleepes. j 
Come night, come gentle night, for thee I stay. . 

Melos, Wherefore dooth Iphicles desire the night? 255 

Iphi, {starting). Whose that? Melos 1 thy words did make me 
afeard ; 
I wish for midnight but to take the Wolfe, 
Which kils my sheepe, for which I make a snare: 
Melos farewell, I must go watch my flocks. 

Exit Iphicles. 

Melos, And I my loue! here she will meet me streight. 260 

See where she comes, hiding her blushing eyes. 

Enter Stesias in womans apparelL 

Melos, My loue Pandora for whose sake I Hue! 
Hide not thy beauty which is Melos sunne. 
Here is none but vs two, lay aside thy vale. 
Sie, Here is Stesias ; Melos you are deceaud. 265 

He striketh Melos. 
Melos, Pandora hath deceaud me, I am vndone! {Exit,) 

Ste, So will not I, syr: I meane simply. 

Exit {pursuing him), 
s. D. Exit l?H,/oil(fws I. 260 Q F. 264 two F,: too Q 


Enter Pandora with Gunophilus. 

Pan. Come hast thou all his lewels and his pearles? 

Gun. I, all! but tell me which way shall we go? 

Pan. Vnto the sea side, and take shipping streight 270 

Gun. Well I am reuengd at last of my Maister; I pray God 
I may be thus euen with all mine enemyes, onely to runne away 
with their wiues. 
Pan. Gunophilus^ for thee I haue done this. 

Gun. I, and for your selfe too : I am sure you wil not beg by 
the way. 
Pan. For thee He beg and dye Gunophilus! 

Gun. J, so I thinke ; the world is so hard, that if yee beg yee 
may be sure to be starud. 
Pan. I prythee be not so churlish. 280 

Gun. O this is but m3nthe; do you not know 

Comes facetus est tanquam vehiculus in via t 
A merry companion is as good as a Wagon, for you shalbe sure 
to ryde though yee go a foote. 
Pan. Gunophilus, setting this mirth aside, 385 

Dost thou not loue me more then all the world? 

Gun. Be you as stedfast to me as He be to you, and we two wil 
goe to the worlds end ; and yet we cannot, for the world is round, 
and seeing tys round, lets daunce in the circle : come, tume about. 

(Th^ dance.} 
Pan. When I forsake thee, then heauen it selfe shal fall. 290 

Gun. No, God forbid, then perhaps we should haue Larkes. 

Enter Stesias (^as before). 

S/e. This is Enipeus banke, here she should be. 

Enter Iphicles. 

/phi. What, is it midnight? time hath bene my friend, 

Come sweete Pandora all is safe and whist: 

Whither flyes my loue? 295 

Ste. Follow me, follow me; here comes Stesias! 
Iphi. She hath betrayd me: whither shall I flye? 
•SVcf. Eyther to the riuer, or els to thy graue. 

I£e strikes Iphicles. 

s. D. [as before] not in Q F. Q has Enter Stesias, and Iphicles, repeating Enter 
Iphicles turf. /. 395 s. D. He strikes l?H. /recedes I. 398 Q 



Enter Learchus. 

Lear, The euenings past, yea, midnight Is at hand. 

And yet Pandora comes not at the groue. 300 

Ste, But Stesias is her deputy, he comes; 

And with his shephooke greetes Learchus thus. 

He layes about 
Lear. Pardon me Stesias^ twas Pandoraes wiles, 

That hath betrayd me; trust her not, she is false. 304 

Ste, Why doest thou tell me the contrary? take that; she is 
honest, but thou wouldst seduce her. Away from my groue, out of 
my land ; did I not giue thee warning ? 

Exit (^driving them out). 

ACT. 5. 

Enter LuMa. 

Lu. Now other planets influence is done, 

To Cynthia lowest of the erring starres, 
' Is beautious Pandora giuen in charge. 

And as I am, so shall Pandora bee. 

New fangled, fyckle, slothfull, foolish, mad, 5 

In spight of Nature^ that enuies vs all. 

{Enter Pandora and Gunophilus.) 
Gun. Come, come. Pandora^ we must make more hast. 

Or Stesias will ouertake vs both. 
Pan. I cannot go no faster, I must rest. {She lies down.) 

Gun. We are almost at the sea side: I pray thee ryse* 10 

Pan. O I am faynt and weary, let me sleepe. 
Gun. Pandora^ if thou loue me, let vs goe. 
Pan. Why doest thou waken me? ile remember this. 
Gun. What, are you angry with me? 
Pan. No, with my selfe for louing such a swayne. 15 

What fury made me doate vpon these lookes? 

Like winters picture are his withered cheekes, 

His hayre as rauens plumes ; ah ! touch me not ! 
I His handes are like the finnes of some foule fish ; 

305-7 Why . . . warning 11 QF. print as verse * Why . . . that, — She . . . her.— 
Away . . . land,— Did . . . warnbg ? ' 6 nature Q 14 What arc Q 



I..ooke how he mowes, like to an aged ape ! * 20 

Ouer the chayne, lacke ! or ile make thee leape ! 

Gun. AVhat a suddayne change is here? 

I\in. Now he sweares by his ten bones; downe, I say! 

Gun, Did I not tell you I should haue Larkes? 
^ Pan. Where is the larks? come, wee! go catch some streight ! 25 

No, let TS go a fishing with a net! 

With a net? no, an angle is enough: 

An angle, a net, no none of both, 

Ile wade into the water, water is fayre. 

And stroke the fishes vnder neath the gilles. 30 

But first Ile go a hunting in the wood; 

I like not hunting; let me haue a hawke. 

What wilt thou say and if I loue thee still? 
Gun. Any thing, what you will! 
Pan. But shall I haue a gowne of oken leaues, 35 

A chaplet of red berries, and a fanne 

Made of the morning dewe to coole my face ? 

How often will you kisse me in an houre? 

And where shall we sit till the sunne be downe? 

For Nocfe latent menda. 
Gun. What then? . 40 

Pan. I will not kisse thee till the sunne be downe; 

That art deformd, the nyght will couer thee; 
• We women must be modest in the day: 

tempt me not vntill the euening come. 

Gun. Lucretia toto 45 

Sis licet vsque die : Thaida node volo. 
Hate me a dayes, and loue me in the nyght. 
Pan. Calst thou me Thais ^ goe, and loue not me; 

1 am not Thais^ Ile be Lucretia^ I ; 

Giue me a knife, and for my chastety 50 

Ile dye to be canonized a saynt. 
Gun. But you will loue me when the sun is downe? 
Pan. No, but I will not! 

Gun. Did you not promise me? 

Pan. No, I ! I saw thee not till now. 

36 fanne F.\ Q turning (he n, faune 39 we F.i mt Q 45-6 Lucretia 

toto sis &c.] Lucretise tota sis &c Q : Lucretia tota sis &c. F.—both, giving 
the whole as om line 54 No, I ! F.i No I, Q, i,e. perh. No, ay ! but qy. t Not I ! 


Gun. Do you see me now ? 

Pan. I ! and loth thee ! 

Gun. Belike I was a spirit all this while? 

Pan. A spirit! a spirit! whither may I flye? -^v _ 


Enter Stesias (i>r his awn attire). 

Ste. I see Pandora and GunopMlus. 

Pan. And I see Stesias ; welcome, Stesias i 

Ste. Gunophilus^ thou hast inveigled her, 60 

And robd me of my treasure and my wife. 

He strippe thee to the skinne for this offence, 

And put thee in a wood to be deuourd 

Of emptie Tygres, and of hungry Wolues, 

Nor shall thy sad lookes moue me vnto rueth. 65 

Gun. Pardon me, mayster; she is Lunaticke, 

Foolish and franticke, and I followed her, 

Onely to saue the goods and bring her backe: 

Why thinke you I would runne away with her? 
Pan. He neede not, for He runne away with him; 70 

And yet I will go home with Stesias : 

So I shall haue a white lambe coloured blacke, 

Two little sparrowes, and a spotted fawne. 
Ste. I feare it is too true that he reportes. 
Gun. Nay, stay a while, and you shall see her daunce. 75 

Pan. No, no, I will not daunce, but I will sing: {Sings.) 

Stesias hath a white hand, 

But his nayles are blacke; 
His fingers are long and small. 

Shall I make them cracke? So 

One, two, and three; 
I loue him, and he loues me. 

Beware of the shephooke ; 
He tell you one thing. 
If you aske me why I sing, 85 

I say yee may go looke. 

Ste. Pandora speake; louest thou Gunophilus? 
Pan. I, if he be a fish, for fish is fine ; 

Sweete Stesias helpe me to a whiting moppe. 

60 has F. Ti Stesias &c.] song printed without change of type ^ and first six 
lines as three Q J\ 88 is Q : are F, 



Ste, Now I perceiue that she is lunaticke: 90 

What may I do to bring her to her wits? 
Gun, Speake, gentle maister, and intreat her fayre. 
Ste, Pandora^ my loue Pandora/ 
Pan. He not be fayre; why call you me your loue 

Loue is a little boy, so am not I ! 95 

Ste. I will allure her with fayre promises; 

And when I haue her in my leauie bower, 

Pray to our water Nimphes and Siluane gods, 

To cure her of this piteous lunacye. 
Pan, Giue me a running streame in both my hands, too 

A blew kings fisher, and a pible stone. 

And He catch butter flies vpon the sand, 

And thou Gunophilus shalt clippe their wings. 
Ste. lie giue thee streames whose pibble shalbe pearle, 

Loue birdes whose feathers shalbe beaten gold, 105 

Musk flyes with amber berries in their mouthes^ 

Milke white Squirrels, singing Popiniayes, 

A boat of deare skins, and a fleeting He, 

A sugar cane, and line of twisted silke. _ 
Pan. Where be all these? no 

Ste. I haue them in my bower; come, follow me. 

Pan. Streames with pearles ? birdes with golden feathers ? Musk 
flyes, and amber berries ? white Squirrels, And singing Popiniayes ? a 
boat of deare skins ? Come, He goe ! He go ! Exeunt (Stes. Pand.). 

Gun. I was nere in loue with her till now, O absolute Pandora I 
because folish, for folly is womens perfection. To talke Idely, to 
loke wildly, to laugh at euery breath and play with a feather, is that 
would make a Stoyke in loue, yea, thou thy selfe, iis 

O Marce fill annum iam audientem Cratippum idque Athenis. 

Grauity in a woman is like to a gray beard vpon a breaching boies 
chinne, which a good Scholemaister would cause to be dipt, and 
the wise husband to be avoyded. 

Enter Melds and the rest. 

Melos. Gunophilus^ where is thy Mistresse ? 
Gun. A ketching a blew kings fisher. 

107 Milke Q: Mask P. 11 2-4 Streames ... go!] as verse Q F. Streames 

. . . feathers ? — Musk . . . Squirrels, — And . . . deare skins ? — Come . . . go. 

117 breath] breach/: misled by battered i of Q 118 selfe. Q F. 119 
Marce] Marci QF. {see note) 119 Atbiseois Q : Athoenis F. 


Iphi. Tell Ts where is she ? 125 

Gun. A gathering little pibles. 

Lear, What ! dost thou mocke vs ? 

Gun, No : but if she were here she would make mowes at the 
proudest of you. 

Melos. What meanest thou by this ? 130 

Gun. I meane my mistres is become folish. 
Jphi. A iust reward for one so false as shee. 
Afe/os. Such hap betide those that intend vs ill. 
/.ear. Neuer were simple shepherdes so abusd. 
/p^\ GunopMlus thou hast betrayd vs all. 155 

Thou broughtest this ring from her which made me come. 
Melos. And thou this bloody napkin vnto me. 
Lear. And thou this flattering letter vnto me. 

Gun. Why I brought you the ring thinking you and shee should 
be maried togeather. And being hurt, as she told me, I had thought 
she had sent for you as a surgeon. 141 

Lear. But why broughtest thou me this letter? 

Gun. Onely to certifie you that she was in health, as I was at the 
bringing hereof. And thus being loth to trouble you, I commit you 
to God. Yours, as his owne, Gunophilus. Exit. 

Melos. The wicked youngling flouteth vs ; let him goe ! 146 

Lear. Immortall Pan^ where ere this lad remaynes, 

Reuenge the wrong that he hath done thy swaines. 
Melos. O that a creature so diuine as she, 

Whose beauty might inforce the heauens to blush, 150 

And make fayre Nature angry at the hart 

That she hath made her to obscure her selfe, 

Should be so fickle and so full of slightes, 

And fayning loue to all, loue none at all. 
Iphi. Had she been constant vnto Iphicles, 155 

I would haue clad her in sweete Floraes roabes: 

Haue set Dianaes garland on her head. 

Made her sole mistres of my wanton flocke, 

And sing in honour of her diety. 

Where now with teares I curse Pandoraes name. 160 

J^ar. The springs that smild to see Pandoraes face. 

And leapt aboue the bankes to touch her lippes; 

'43-5 Onely . . . Gnnophilos] as verse Q : Onely . . . health, — As I . . . hereof. 
— And thus . . . God. — Yours . . . Gunophilus. 


The proud playnes dauncing with Pandoraes weight; 

The locund trees that vald when she came neare, 

And in the murmur of their whispering leaues, 165 

Did seeme to say, ' Pandora is our Queene I ' 

Witnesse how fayre and beautifull she was, 

But now alone how false and treacherous! 
Melos. Here I abiure Pandora^ and protest 

To Hue for euer in a single life. 170 

Lear. The like vow makes Ltarchus to great Pan. 
Iphu And IpfUcles ; though soare agaynst his will. 
Lear. In witness^ of my vow I rend these lines;— 

O thus be my loue disperst into the ayre i 
Melos. Here lie the bloody Napkin which she sent, 175 

And with it my affection, and my loue. 
Iphi. Breake, breake, Pandoraes ring ; and with it breake 

Pandoraes loue, that almost burst my heart. 

Enter Stesias, Pandora, land Gunophilus. 

Ste, Ah whither runnes my loue Pandora f stay, 

Gentle Pandora stay; runne not so fast. x8o 

Pan, Shall I not stamp vpon the ground? I will! 

Who sayth Pandora shall not rend her hayre? 

Where is the groue that askt me how I did? 

Giue me an angle, for the fish will bite. 
Melos, Looke how Pandora raves! now she is starke mad. 185 
Ste, For you she raues, that meant to rauish her; 

Helpe to recouer her or els yee dye ! 
Lear. May she with rauing dye ! do what thou darst. 
Iphi. She ouer reacht vs with deceitfuU guile; 

And Pan, to whom we prayed, hath wrought reuenge. 190 

Pan. He haue the Ocean put into a glasse, 

And drinke it to the health of Stesias. 

Thy head is full of hediockes Jphicks, 

So, shake them of; now let me see thy hand; 

Looke where a biasing starre is in this line, 195 

And in the other two and twenty sonnes. 
Ste. Come, come, Pandora; sleepe within my armes. 
Pan. Thine armes are firebrandesi whers Gunophilus t 

Go kisse the eccho, and bid loue vntrusse; 

166 inv. com. first F. 188 dye? Q, 1.^. dye! aiustial: dye; /*. 190 had/\ 


Go fetch the blacke Goat with the brazen heele, aoo 

And tell the Bell-wether I heare him not. 

Not, not, not, that you should not come vnto me 

This nighty not at all, at all, at all. Dormit. 

Gun. She is a sleepe, mayster; shall I wake her? 
Ste. O no Gunophilus ; there let her sleepe, 205 

And let vs pray that she may be recurd. 
Lear, Siestas thou pittiest her that loues thee not. 
Meios. The wordes we told thee Stesias were too true. 
IphL Neuer did Iphicles desemble yet : 

Beleeue me Stesias she hath l>een vntrue. a 10 

Sit, Yet will you slay me with your slaunderous words? 

Did you not all sweare for her chastety? 
Lear, It was her subtle wit that made vs sweare ; 

For, Stesias^ know she shewed loue to vs all. 

And seuerally sent for vs by this swayne. 215 

And vnto me he brought such hony lines, 

As ouercomd, I flew vnto her bower; 

Who, when I came, swore she loud me a lone. 

Willing me to deny the wordes I spoke. 

And she at night would meete me in the groue. aao 

Thus meaning simply, lo ! I was betrayd. 
Melos, Gunophiius brought me a bloody cloth. 

Saying for my loue she was almost slayne; 

And when I came she vsed me as this swaine. 

Protesting loue, and poynting me this place. aas 

Jphi, And by this bearer I receiued a ring. 

And many a louing word that drew me foorth. 

O that a woman should desemble so ! 

She then forswore Learchus and this swaine, 

Saying that Iphicles was onely hers; 330 

Whereat I promised to deny my wordes. 

And she to meete me at Enipeus bankes. 
Ste, Wert thou the messenger vnto them all? 
Gun, I was, and all that they haue sayde is true; 

She loud not you, nor them, but me alone. 235 

How oft hath she runne vp and downe the lawnes. 

Calling aloud— 'Where is Gunophilus V 

23a Enipeus] Enepius Q F, 235 loud] loue Q : lov'd F. 237 inv. com, first F. 


Ste. {aside). Ah ! how my hart swels at these miscreants wordes ! 
Melos, Come let vs leaue him in this pensiue mood. 
Lear, Fret, Stesias, fret; while we daunce on the playne. 240 
Melos, Such fortune happen to incredulus swaines. 
Iphi, Sweete is a single life; Stesias farewell. 
~~ -^^ -Ejirtftt«/(IPH. Mel. a«^/ Lear.). 

Ste, Go life, flye soule; go, wretched Stesias! 
'^ Curst be Vtopia for Pandoraes sake! 

Let wild bores with their tuskes plow vp my lawnes, 245 

Deuouring Wolues come shake my tender lambes, 

Driue vp my goates vnto some*steepy rocke. 

And let them fall downe headlong in the sea. 

She shall not Hue, nor thou Gunophilus^ 

To triumph in poore Stesias ouerthrow. 350 

Enter the seauen Planets. 

Sat, Stay shepherd, stay! 

Jup, Hurt not Pandora^ louely Stesias. 

She awakes and is sober. 
Pan, What meanes my loue, to looke so pale and wan? / • 
Ste, For thee, base strumpet, am I pale and wanne. 
Mer, Speake mildly, or He make thee, crabbed swainel 255 
Sol, Take her agayne, and loue her, Stesias. 
Ste. Not for Vtopia! no, not for the world! 
Venus. Ah! canst thou frowne on her that lookes so sweet? 
Pan. Haue I offended thee? He make amends. 
Mer. And what canst thou demaund more at her band? 260 
Ste. To slay her selfe, that I may liue alone. 
Luna. Flint harted shepherd, thou deseruest her not. 
Ste. If thou be V<7i^, conuey her from the earth. 

And punish this Gunophilus her man. 

Gun, O loue/ let this be my punishment, to liue still with 

Pandora. 266 

Enter Nature. 

Nat. Enuious planets, you haue done your worst. 
Yet in despight of you Pandora Hues ; 
And seeing the shepherds haue abiurd her loue. 
She shalbe placed in one of your seauen orbs. 970 

But thou that has not serud her as I wild, 

262 deserveth/*. 


Vanish into a Haythorne as thou standst, 
Neare shalt thou wait vpon Pandora more. 


Sat. O Nature! place Pandora in my sphere, 

For I am old, and she will make me young. 275 

Jup, With me I and I will leaue the Queene of heauen. 
Mars. With me i and Venus shall no more be mine. 
SoL With me! and He forget fayre Daphnes loue. 
Venus, With me ! and ile tume Cupid out of doores. 
Mer. With me! and ile forsake Agiauros loue. 2S0 

Luna. No ! fayre Pandora, stay with Cynthia^ 

And I will loue thee more then all the rest: 

Rule thou my starre, while I stay in the woods, 

Or keepe with Pluto in the infemall shades. 
Ste. Go where thou wilt so I be rid of thee. 2S5 

Nat. Speake, my Pandora ; where wilt thou be (placed) ? 
Pan. Not with old Saturne for he lookes like death. 

Nor yet with Jupiter^ least luno storme; 

Nor with thee Mars, for Venus is thy loue; 

Nor with thee Sol, thou hast two Parramours, 290 

The sea borne Thetis and the rudy mome. 

Nor with thee Venus, least I be in loue 

With blindfold Cupid or young loculus ; 

Nor with thee Hermes, thou art full of slightes. 

And when I need thee loue will send thee foorth. 295 

Say Cynthia^ shall Pandora rule thy starre, 

And wilt thou play Diana in the woods, 

Or Hecate in Plutos regiment? 
Luna. I, Pandora! 
Pan. Fayre Nature let thy hand mayd dwell with her, , 300 

For know that change is my felicity, 

And ficklenesse Pandoraes proper forme. 

Thou madst me sullen first, and thou loue, proud; 

Thou bloody minded ; he a Puritan : 

Thou Venus madst me loue all that I saw, 305 

And Hermes to deceiue all that I loue; 

But Cynthia made me idle, mutable, 

ForgetfuU, foolish, fickle, franticke, madde; 

277 Mars. F.: Mer. Q 286 placed required by metre 291 sea- 

bore F, 308 Forgetfall misplaced at tlte end of preceding line Q F. 



These be the humors that content me best, 
And therefore will I stay with Cynthia, 

Nat, And Stesias since thou setst so light on her. 
Be thou her slaue, and follow her in the Moone. 

Ste. He rather dye then beare her company ! 

Jup. Nature will haue it so, attend on her. 

Nat, He haue thee be her vassaile, murmur not. 

Ste, Then, to reuenge me of Gunophilus^ 

He rend this hathorne with my furious hands, 
And beare this bush ; if eare she looke but backe. 
He scratch her face that was so false to me. 

Nat, Now rule. Pandora^ in fayre Cynthias steede. 
And make the moone inconstant like thy selfe; 
Raigne thou at womens nuptials, and their birth; 
Let them be mutable in all their loues, 1 

Fantasticall, childish, and folish, in their desires, 
Demaunding toyes : 

And Starke madde when they cannot haue their will. 
Now follow me ye wandring lightes of beauen, 
And grieue not, that she is not plast with you; 
All you shall glaunce at her in your aspects, 
And in coniunction dwell with her a space. 

Ste, O that they had my roome ! 

Nat, I charge thee follow her, but hurt her not. 








326 And Starke madde placed as completion of preceding line Q F, Tikis rare 
irregularity suggests the loss of some words 329 All Q : And F, 



' 43 Regine. 35 Novembris 1600 william wood Entred for his Copie ynder the 
haodes of Master PasTeild and the wardens A booke Called Loves metamorphetis 
wrytten by master John Lylly and playd by the Children of Paoles . . yj**.* 
Stationers* Register, Hi. 176 (ed. Arb.). 

Q. Loves Meiar\morpkosis. \ A \ Wittie and Courtly \ Pastorall, \ WritUn by \ 
Mr, John Lyllie. \ First playd by the Children ofPaules, and new \ by the Children 
of the Chappell, \ London \ Printed for William Wood^ dwelling at the West end 
of\ PauleSy at the signe of Time . 1601. | 4to. A (verso blank), B>F4 in fours, 
G (yerso blank). No col. {Br, Mus. : Bodl, : Magd^ Coll, Camb, : Dyce ColL 
S, /Censing.) 

Not inclnded among the Sixe Covrt Comedies, its second publication being that 
of Fairholt*s edition of the Dramatic Works, toL ii. 1858. 



Argument. — Erisichthon, a wealthy farmer, jealous of honours 
paid to Ceres by her nymphs, destroys a tree sacred to the goddess ; 
and in so doing kills another nymph of Ceres, Fidelia, who has 
found protection in that shape from the pursuit of a sat)rr. Ceres 
in revenge commissions Famine to prey on the offender, who is 
speedily reduced by his insatiable hunger to poverty, and sells his 
daughter, Protea, to a merchant. Her appeal to Neptune enables 
her to elude her purchaser in the form of a fisherman; and by 
a second transformation to the likeness of Ulysses she rescues her 
lover, and father's benefactor, Petulius, from the dangerous fascina- 
tions of a Siren. Meantime Ceres' three nymphs, Nisa, Celia, and 
Niobe, to whose information the farmer owed his punishment, have 
themselves incurred the displeasure of Cupid by disdainful treatment 
of three admiring foresters ; and at the latters' request the god trans- 
forms them respectively into a rock, a rose, and a bird. Ceres' 
petition for their release is used by Cupid to extort from her the 
pardon of Erisichthon, whose daughter's faithful love has given her 
a claim on his protection. The nymphs recover their shape on con- 
dition of their acceptance of the amorous foresters, and the wedding- 
feast is held at Erisichthon's house. 

Text — I follow the original quarto edition of i6or, which has 
few serious errors, the chief being pp. 303, *constancie' for *in- 
constancie,' 305 'Miretia' for *Mirrha,' 325 'fames' for 'formes,' 
330 * Nisa ' for * Niobe,' and one or two scenes misnumbered. The 
fourteen Latin quotations are given with unusual accuracy : probably 
the author gave more personal attention to the printing. But there 
is the same paucity of stage-directions, due probably to the fact that 
he himself supervised its production and instructed the actors by 
word of mouth ; while to a similar cause may be assigned (Essay, 
vol. ii. 265) the loss of the four songs, indicated in i. 2 the Nymphs, 
iii. I Niobe and Silvestris, and iv. 2 two by the Siren. 


Fairbolt's text, escaping in this instance the unfortunate interven- 
tion of Blounty who does not include the play in the Sixe Covrt 
Comedies^ is much better than usual. It corrects the mistake on 
p. 325, and the numbering of the scenes, and it sometimes emends 
the punctuation ; but it leaves the other errors unrepaired ; it omits 
half a line p. 32 1, a speech of Petulius p. 328, and ' take ' on p. 33 1 ; 
it introduces some half-dozen stupid mis-spellings, and some other 
errors, e.g. pp. 311 *No' for *Not,* 314 'garland' for 'garlands,' 
318 'fond* for 'found/ 329 'And* for 'Are*; and it fails to supply 
some needed stage-directions^ though those required for iii. \ and 
iv. 2 are suggested in a note. 

Authorship. — Lyly's authorship is proved by his own name^ and 
those of the two Children's companies with which he was connected, 
on the title-page; by the generally euphuistic character of the 
speeches (cf. i. i, i. 2 p. 305, iv. i pp. 319-20, v. i p. 325, v. 3, v. 4 
p. 329), by ten distinct echoes of Euphues itself (given in the 
notes), and by the ample use made of his favourite Latin poet 

Sotirces. — For the somewhat slender scaffolding which, in virtue 
of its prior introduction and the larger share of dialogue allotted to 
it, pretends to the position of main plot — that, namely, which deals 
with the loves of Ceres' n3rmphs and the three foresters — Lyly seems 
to have had no other source than his own invention ; though the 
same book of the Metamorphoses^ from which he drew the by-plot, 
contains transformations of Nisus into a bird, of Naiads into islands, 
and of Philemon and Baucis into trees, while Bk. vi. 146-312 relates 
that of ' Niobe in marmor V In the by-plot, which is interwoven with 
considerable skill, he follows very closely Ovid's Metamorphoses^ viii. 
738-878. There we read how Erisichthon, jealous of Ceres' honours, 
attacks her sacred oak, hung with garlands ' memoresque tabellae,' 
under which ' Dryades festas duxere choreas ' (cf. i. i and 2). The 
blows of his axe are followed by a flow of blood and a voice from an 
unnamed nymph of Ceres confined in the tree, who at the moment 
of her death prophesies Erisichthon's punishment. Ceres, informed 

^ See, however, what is said aboat a possible suggestion for Nisa and her trans- 
fonnation in Sannazarro*s Eclogae Piscatoriae and Boccaccio's Amtio^ below, 
p. 395* 



by the Dryads, devises his destruction by Famine, the allegorical 
description of whom is almost verbally copied by Lyly : 

Quae quatenus ipsi 
Non adeunda Deae (neque enim Cereremque Famemque 
Fata coire sinunt), montani numinis unam 
Talibus agrestem compellat, Oreada, dictis: 
Est locus extremis Scythiae glacialis in oris, 
Triste solum, sterilis, sine fruge, sine arbore, tellus; 
Frigus iners iUic habitant, Pallorque, Tremorque, 
£t ieiuna Fames: ea se in praecordia condat 
Sacrilegi scelerata, iube: nee copia rerum 
Vincat eam ; superetque meas certamine vires. 

The Oread (unnamed by Ovid, * Tirtena * in Lyly — from * Tirrena ' 
in Sannazarro's Arcadia ?) obeys : 

Quaesitamque Famem lapidoso vidit in agro, 

Vnguibus, et raras vellentem dentibus herbas. 

Hirtus erat crinis; caua lamina; pallor in ore; 

Labra incana situ; scabri rubigine dentes; 

Dura cutis, per quam spectari viscera possent; 

Ossa sub incuruis extabant arida lumbis; 

Ventris erat pro ventre locus : pendere putares 

Pectus, et a spinae tantummodo crate teneri. 

Auxerat articulos macies, genuumque rigebat 

Orbis, et immodico prodibant tubere tali. 

Hanc procul ut vidit (neque enim est accedere iuxta \dL Act ii. sc i; 

Ausa) refert numdata Deae ; &c. L 32]. 

As in Lyly Erisichthon exhausts his patrimony in the endeavour 
to assuage his hunger, and finally sells his daughter (Metra, unnamed 
by Ovid, who merely calls her ' Autolyci coniux ') : 

Tandem, demisso in viscera censu, 
Filia restabat, non illo digna parente. 
Hanc quoque vendit inops. Dominum generosa recusat ; [cL 

Protea's * Gentleman,' &c. iii. 2. 41]. 
Et vicina suas tendens super aequora palmas, 
Eripe me domino, qui raptae praemia nobis 
Virginitatis habes, ait. (Haec Neptunus habebat.) 
Qui prece non spreta, quamuis modo visa sequenti 
Esset hero [i.e. domino], formamque nouat, vultumque virilem 
Induit, et cultus piscem capientibus aptos: 

in which shape she eludes her purchaser's inquiries, and returns to 
her father. 

Lyly b original only in making Erisichthon a farmer, in the motive 


of a satyr's pursuit for the change of Fidelia into a tree, in the names 
Protea (borrowed from the transformations of Proteus summarized 
by Ovid just before, 11. 730-7) and Petulius (for Ovid's *Auto- 
lycus '), whom he represents as Protea's suitor and her father's bene- 
factor, rather than as her husband, and in the pardon accorded to 
Erisichthon, who in Ovid perishes by devouring his own flesh : little 
changes subserving the purpose of dramatic unity. Also, for variety's 
sake and to give Protea opportunity for a new transformation, he 
adds the Siren, suggested perhaps by their conjunction with Ceres 
in Metatnorph, v. 557-63 * and Hyginus' Fable CXLI^ where ' Cereris 
voluntate, quod Proserpinae auxilium non tulerant, volaticae sunt 
factae'; mingling the classical conception with the Teutonic and 
Northern superstition of mermaids, just as in The Woman in the 
Moone he mingles the classical divinities with the mediaeval notion 
of planetary influence. 

I have exhibited his debt to Ovid thus fully because of the natural 
temptation to connect the play rather with Spenser's Faerie Queene, 
the first three books of which appeared in 1590. The striking in- 
cident of Fidelia bears considerable resemblance to that of Fradubio 
and Fraclissa, borrowed from Ariosto in Bk. i, canto 2'; while the 
description of Famine might be modelled on Spenser's similar pic- 
tures of Idleness, Gluttony, Wrath, &c., in Bk. i, c. 4, or on* those of 
Doubt, Danger, Fear, &c., in the masque of Cupid, Bk. iii, c 12 ; 
though Spenser's whole poem contains no specific description of 
Famine like that in Lyly's play. In the Quarterly Review for Jan. 
1896 ', I suggested that Lyly might have founded the latter on some 
stanzas in Sackville's Induction to The Mirrour for Magistrates^ 
quoted in the notes. But the extracts firom Ovid given above 
leave no doubt that he, and not Spenser nor Sackville, was Lyly's 
true original in this description. In two points, however, Fidelia's 
speech does seem to me to indicate a knowledge of Spenser's Third 
Book ; the idea, namely, not in Ovid, of Fidelia's attempted rape by 
a satyr (cf. F. Q. iii. c. 10), and the mention together (i. 2, p. 305) 
of Daphne and Myrrha as instances of flight, two cases hardly parallel, 
which Spenser also combines : 

* Or peihaps by the allusions to them in Sannaiairo** Eclogae Piscatcriae : cf. 
below, p. 395. 

' For the transformation into a tree, of whidi Lyly has two other instances, some 
example was afforded by Gascoigne*s show in the Princely Pleasures of Kmilworth^ 
J 576 ; cf. vol. ii. p. 477, note 5. 

'* hTXicltfohn Lyly : Novelist and Dramatist, p. 133. 


/ — 


Not halfe so fast the wicked Myrrha fled 

From dread of her revenging Other's hond ; 

Nor halfe so fast to save her maydenhed 

Fled fearfull Daphne on th' Aegean strond. 

As FJorimell fled, &c. F, Q, iii. 7. 26. 

Under this head of sources should be mentioned the close con- 
nexion of this play in subject and treatment with the earlier pastoral 
J Gallathea, Both celebrate the triumph of true love over a false 
ideal of chastity which declines and mocks at marriage \ The stuff 
of both consists in great part of the relations between a presiding 
goddess (Diana or Ceres) and her nymphs, who become subject to 
the power of Cupid ; and there is accordingly the same conceited 
dialogue on the subject of love (cf. Gall. i. 2, iv. 2 with Laves Met, 
ii. 2, iv. i). If that in the later play shows as a fainter reflection of 
the former, yet Nisa's spirited exposure of poetic fictions on the 
subject (p. 308) affords us compensation. In two passages our play 
actually alludes to Gallathea^ as has been pointed out in the one 
case by Steinhauser, in the other by Fleay*. Then we have the 
same angry figure in the background (Neptune or Erisichthon) to 
serve as moving cause of the action ; the same idea of filial sacrifice 
by reluctant parents and of the evasion thereof: the same introduc- 
tion of a genuine tragic note in Hsebe and Fidelia, neither of whom 
is dramatically essential; the same solution by a compromise be- 
tween rival deities ; the same general idea of locality, woods near 
a seacoast, and especially, the same tree occupying a conspicuous 
position on the stage and often referred to; and even the same 
series of musical puns (cf. iii. i. 122-7 with Gall. v. 3. 188-93). ^ut 
the play is far from being a mere repetition. The attitude towards 
love of Ceres and her nymphs, respectively, is almost a reversal of 
that of Diana and hers : and Cupid is no longer a petulant boy, 
playing truant, making mischief, caught and punished for it; but 
a great god with a temple at which Ceres offers homage, and wielding 
a dread power of physical punishment. Here too, if there is no 

' ' " Gallathea " und ^ Love*8 Metamorphosis ** konnen als allegorische Ver- 
herrlichang des Sieges wahrer liebe iiber die falsche Keuschheit bezeichnet 
werden, welche aach die £he fiir verwerflich halt, und deren — wenigstens ofient- 
liche— Hauptveitreteriii in England Elisabeth war' (Steinhaaser,y(t?^/f Lily als 
Dramatiker^ P* 3i)* 

' Act ii. sc. I. 1. 77 : ' Diana's N3rmphes were as chast as Ceres viigines, as 
faire, as wise : how Cupid tormented them, I had rather you should heare then 
feele; but this is truth, they all yeelded to lone.' Act v. sc i. lU 18-9 : * Diana 
hath felt some motions of -loue, Vesta doth, Ceres shall.' 


comic element, the by-plot is far better interwoven with the main 
action, and may boast a greater variety in itself. 

Lastly, just as Gallathea and the pastoral scenes in Midas may 
owe something to Sannazarro's Arcadia^ so this play may confess, 
perhaps, a hint or two from his Eclogae Piscatoriae^ in the introduction 
of a Siren (they are associated with Sannazarro's scene, the Naples 
coast) and consequently of Ulysses, and in the stony-hearted Nisa's 
transformation ; e. g. cf. v. 4. 68 and 116 with 

Sirenes, mea cura, audite haec ultima vota. 

Aut revocet iam Nisa suum, nee spernat lolam, 

Aut videat morientem. Haec saxa impulsa marinis 

Fluctibus, haec misero vilis dabit alga sepulchnim. (EcL iii. 50-3.) 

Boccaccio's Ameto has, in the story of Acrimonia, faint suggestions 
of Lyly's nymphs and their punishment, and of Protea's proposed 
voyage. See note, vol. ii. pp. 473 sqq. 

Date. — The date is perhaps harder to fix than that of any other 
play of Lyly. Could we judge simply by the year of its publication, 
we should have to regard it as much the latest, written and produced 
a year or two before November, 1600; for it is not entered on the 
Stationers' Register till November 25, 1600, and not issued till the 
following year. But a difficulty occurs in the statement of the Re- 
gister, repeated on the title-page, that it had been played by the 
Paul's Boys. This company was suspended from acting, temporarily 
perhaps in the autumn of 1589 (see note on Pappe, ad med.), but per- 
manently before October 4, 1591, when three of its plays are entered 
for publication : and Collier considers the suspension to have lasted 
till about 1600 \ The title-page says it was 'first playd by the 
Children of Paules, and now [i.e. 1601] by the Children of the 
Chappell.' The latter company were under inhibition probably 
from 1583 till 1597, when a new writ was issued to Nathaniel Giles, 
their master, to take up boys for the chapel service, which must be 
understood as including the removal of the prohibition on their 
acting '. There seem, then, prima facie grounds for supposing that 

' History of Dramatic Poetry^ L 37a. 

^ The wording of these writs to choir-masters nowhere contemplates a dramatic 
function for the boys so *■ taken np ' ; but from the very interesting petition, pub- 
lished in the Athenaeum for Aug. 10, 1889, by Mr. James Greenstreet and printed 
by Mr. Fleay, it seems clear that the Queen winked at the practice of so employing 
them. See Fleay*s History of the Stage^ pp. 126 sqq., where Giles, Robinson, and 
Evans, against whose proceedings the petition protests, are stated to have said 
that ' yf the Qneene . . . would not beare them furth in that accion [of practically 
kidnapping boys, who were not musical, simply to turn them into actors], she 


the Paul's Boys first produced the play before 1591, and that the 
Chapel Children after the removal of their inhibition revived it in 
1 598-1600. True, the Stationers* Register (November 25, 1600) 
only names the Paul's Boys in connexion with it; and as there 
seems no good reason why these should not have recommenced 
acting as early as 1599 — the printing of The Maydes Metamorphosis 
in 1600 'as it hath bene sundrie times Acted by the Children of 
Powles' favours the idea — they may have played it in 1599 or early 
in 1600, before transferring it to the Chapel Children ^ But strong 
arguments for a much earlier date exist in the markedly euphuistic 
character of the dialogue, far more noticeable than in Midas or 
Mother Bombie ; in a reference to * Ceres and her sacred Nymphes ' 
in The Woman^ iii. i. 50, which was entered for publication in 
1595 ; and in the general connexion of subject and treatment which 
unites the three plays Sapho and Phao^ Gallathea^ and Loves Meta- 
morphosis^ in all of which Cupid plays a prominent part, while there 
are references in Gallathea to Sapho, and in Loves Metamorphosis 
to Gallathea, Mr. Baker' even considers this connexion ground 
for placing the composition of the play before 1584, i.e. before the 
earlier inhibition of the Paul's Boys, though he doubts if it was acted 
then. But there seems no cogent reason why plays connected in 
subject or treatment should be written in immediate succession : 
and though the points of connexion enumerated under ' Sources ' 
prove it subsequent to Gallathea^ the very number and close re- 
semblance of these points, especially the series of musical pun<;, 
make against its immediate succession; for Lyly, of all authors, 
would shun the charge of poverty of invention. Mr. Fleay's opinion, 
that it was acted at Court by the Paul's Boys * no doubt in 1588-9 ^' 
escapes this objection ; and might find a vague support in the record 
in the Council Registers, quoted by Chalmers *, of a payment on 
March 23, 1588-9, of ^30 to Thomas Giles, master of the Paul's 
Boys, 'for sundry plays in the Christmas holydays.' Mr. Fleay 
further considers that it was revived by the Chapel Children circ, 
1529 before the Paul's Boys recommenced. 
I believe we may accept, roughly, Mr. Fleay's dates. But I find 

tbould gett another to execute her commission for them ' (p. 130) ; and ' were yt 
not for the benefitt they made by the sayd play bowse [Blackfnars], whoe would 
ibonld lerre the Chappell w^ dulderen for them* (p. 131). 
^ See voL i, life, pp. 72-4. 

* Introdoction to bu edition of £ndymmt, p. xcriii. 
' Bi^raphical ChronicUf ii. 41. 

* fioiweU*t MaUm^s Skakespeartj iii. 435. 


strong reason for supposing that the play as revived, whether by the 
Paul's or Chapel Children, was an alteration from that onginally 
produced, (i) Firstly, it is remarkable for its brevity, caused by the 
absence of the farcical element found in all the other plays. It is 
quite possible that such element existed in the earlier form, and that 
it contained some matter, perhaps of Anti-Martinist tendency, which 
was sufficient to prevent the play obtaining its licence for printing 
along with Endimion; Gallathea^ and Midas in 1591, but which was 
excised before its revival. Compare, too, the *thicke mist* of iv. i. 
109 (see note ad loc.) ; also Tirtena in v. i, p. 324. (2) Secondly, 
it is unlikely that the last twelve years of Lyly's life (ob. 1606) 
should have been quite unoccupied with dramatic work^; and it 
exhibits an improved skill in dramatic construction — it is better 
woven than any except Mot?ur Bombie^ and of more varied interest 
than any — and a more evident effort to give characteristic distinction 
to the individual members of the groups of nymphs and foresters 
than is noticeable in earlier work, (3) Thirdly, there are the points 
of connexion with the Faerie Queene (Bk. iii, published 1590) which 
I have noted under ' Sources.' (4) Fourthly, I would suggest the 
possibility of allegorical allusion in Erisichthon to Elizabeth's rela- 
tions with her favourite Essex. That the Queen is represented in 
the person of Ceres has been generally allowed. Her attitude 
towards love is here largely modified from that of Diana in Gallathea ; 
but even here we get a reflection of the old jealousy of marriage 
without her consent in v. 4. 1 2 — * You might haue made me a coun- 
sell of your loues,' and 20-2, which probably allude to Southampton's 
stolen match with Elizabeth Vernon, her maid of honour, in 1598. 
The Queen's displeasure was enhanced by Essex's appointment of 
Southampton to be General of the Horse in Ireland in 1599; and 
X think it very possible that in Erisichthon, so ungrateful for the 
bounty Ceres has showered upon him, we have allusion to Essex him- 
self, and his presumptuous attitude towards the Queen in 1598, 1599, 
and 1600 *. (s) Lastly, revival of Loves Metamorphosis in a revised 
form, and especially without a previously existing farcical element, 
would be consistent with an allusion in the Induction to Jonson's 
Cynthia^ s Revels^ produced by the Chapel Children in the same year 

' I find, later, that there was probably some masque-work within this period. 

' Compare, especially, Elizabeth's saying, in regard to the monopoly of sweet 
wbes for which Essex in 1600 sought a renewal, that *an ungovernable Beast 
must be stinted in his provender, that he may be the better maniag'd ' (Camden's 
Annals of Eliz. 1600, in the fol. Hist, of Eng. ii. p. 626). 


— * the umbrae or ghosts of some three or four plays departed a dozen 
years since, have been seen walking on your stage here/ &c. 

I consider, then, that an earlier form of the play was produced by 
the Paul's Boys in 1586-8 ; that it was revived by them in its present 
form in 1599 or early in 1600, and transferred to the Chapel Children 
before the year was far advanced. 

Place and Time. — The number of scenes cannot be reduced 
below three: i. At Ceres* Tree. 2. Before Cupid's Temple. 3. 
Seashore near Erisichthon's Farm. The distinction between these 
is shown in iv. i, p. 320, where the foresters, in front of Cupid's 
Temple, discuss whether they shall go to look for the nymphs at 
Ceres' Tree, or visit Erisichthon ; and again in v. i, p. 325, where 
Ceres leaves Cupid's Temple to fetch Erisichthon. This distinction 
of the localities involves one imaginary transfer in the middle of 
Act ii— a single scene, at the commencement of which Ceres is 
lamenting over her fallen tree, but proposes, p. 307, to visit Cupid's 
Temple, and after some talk, during which they are supposed to be 
proceeding thither, remarks p. 308 ' This is the temple.' Compare, 
too, iii. 1. 150-7 * Here is the tree.' Several similar transfers occurred 
in Campaspe (see Place and Time in the introduction to that play), one 
in Endimion, Act iv. 3, pp. 60-1, and one in TTie Womatty Act iv. 

As regards Time, the action of the play requires at least several 
days to allow for the operation of famine on Erisichthon, the sale 
of his goods, p. 315, the appointment of 'day' and *hower' with 
the Merchant, p. 316, Petulius' aid mentioned iv. 2. 37, and the 
revenge of the foresters on the nymphs. The intervals should be 
arranged to fall between the Acts, and some time may consistently 
be supposed to elapse between Acts i and ii, and Acts ii and iii : yet 
though the adventure of Protea with the Merchant, and the infliction 
and repentance of their revenge by the foresters, require some time, 
the last three Acts are represented as continuous — Acts iii and iv 
being connected by the visit to Cupid announced iii. i, and carried 
out in iv. I, while Acts iv and v are placed in close connexion by 
the *straunge discourse' of Protea, begun iv. 2. 100, and just con- 
cluded V. 2, p. 325. So that in this, as in preceding plays, especially 
Midas, there is visible an attempt at close continuity of action 
irreconcileable with the lapse of time which the plot requires, a cir- 
cumstance which, when contrasted with the greater care exercised in 
Mother Bambie and The Woman, constitutes yet another argument 
for an early date. 


Pavllcs,anht(i£iicot'Tt!nc. I c 1, 



Ramis, \ Foresters (Nisa, 

MoNTANUS, I in Uwe, re- I Celia. 

SiLxnsSTRis, ) spectioelyy with \Niobe, 

Erisichthon, a churlish Husbandman, 5 

Petulius, in lave with Frotea. 



NiSA, ^ 



Fidelia, a Nymph of Ceres transformed into a Tree. 
Protea, Daughter to Erisichthon, 

Siren. 15 

Scene — Arcadia. ) 

Dram. Pers.] list sufplieJ by F., whcm I follow with but trifling change 
ScKNE— Arcadia] suppl, F. 

Nymphs of Ceres. 



SCiENA Prima.— ^/ Cere^ Tree.) 
(^Enter) Ramis, Montanus, Siluestris. 

(^Ramis.) T Cannot sec, Montanus^ why it is fain'd by the Poets, 
X that Loue sat vpon the Chaos and created the world ; 
since in the world there is so little loue. 

Mon, Ramis^ thou canst not see that which cannot with reason 

5 l>e imagined ; for if the diuine vertues of Loue had disperst them- 

selues through the powers of the world so forcibly as to make them 

take by his influence the formes and qualities imprest within them, 

no doubt they could not chuse but sauour more of his Diuinitie. 

5/7. I doe not thinke Loue hath any sparke of Diuinitie in him ; 

10 since the end of his being is earthly. In the bloud he is begot by 

the fraile fires of the eye, & quencht by the frayler shadowes of 

thought. What reason haue we then to soothe his humor with such 

zeale, and folow his fading delights with such passion ? 

Ramis, We haue bodies, StVuesfrts^ and humane bodies; which 

15 in their owne natiu^es being much more wretched then beastes, doe 

much more miserably then beasts pursue their owne ruines: And 

since it will aske longer labour and studie to subdue the powers 

of our bloud to the rule of the soule, then to satisfie them with the 

fruition of our loues, let vs bee constant in the worlds errours, and 

20 seeke our owne torments. 

Mon. As good yeeld indeed submissiuely, and satisfie part of our 
affections; as bee stubbume without abilitie to resist, and enioy 
none of them. I am in worst plight, since I loue a Nymph that 
mockes loue. 

, s. D. Act I. Scene I. supplied F, The division into Acts and Scenes is that of 
the quarto and F, The localities of the several scenes are first marked in this 
edition I [Ramis] supplied F. 


"^ Ramis, And I one that hates loue. ^5 

SiL I, one that thinkes her selfe aboue loue. 

Ratnis, Let vs not dispute whose mistris is most bad, since they 
be all cruell ; nor which of our fortunes be most froward, since they 
bee all desperate. I will hang my Skutchin on this tree in honour 
of CereSy and write this verse on the tree in hope of my successe. 30 
Penelopen ipsam perstes modo tempore vinces, Penelope will yeeld at 
last : continue and conquer. 

Mon, I this : Fructus ahest fades cum bona teste caret. Faire faces 
lose their fauours, if they admit no fouers. 

Ramis, But why studiest thou ? What wilt thou write for thy Lady 35 
to read ? 

SiL That which necessitie maketh me to indure, loue reuerence, 
wisdome wonder at Riualem patienter habe, 

Mon. Come, let vs euerie one to our walkes, it may be we shall 
meete them walking. Exeunt, 40 

ScENA Secvnda. — {The same.") 

NiSA, Celia, Niobe, Fidelia, Erisicthon. 

{Enter Nisa, Celia, Niobe.) 

Nisa. It is time to hang vp our Garlands, this is our haruest 
holyday, wee must both sing and daunce in the honour of Ceres :■ 
of what colours or flowers is thine made of, Niobe f 

Niobe. Of Salamints, which in the morning are white, red at 
noone, and in the Euening purple, for in my aflections shall there 5 
be no staiednesse but in vnstaiednes : but what is yours of, Nisa f 

Nisa. Of Hollie, because it is most holy, which louely greene 
neither the Sunnes beames, nor the winds blasts can alter or dimi- 
nish. But, Ce/ia^ what Garland haue you ? 

Ce/ia. Mine all of Cypres leaues, which are broadest and beauti- 10 
fullest, yet beareth the least fruit ; for beautie maketh the brightest 
shew, being the slightest substance; and I am content to wither 
before I bee worne, and depriue my selfe of that which so many 

Niobe. Come, let vs make an end, lest Ceres come and find vs 15 
slacke in performing that which wee owe. But soft, some haue beene 
here this Morning before vs. 

31 pentes/i//. fy comma Q F^ 


Nisa. The amorous Foresters, or none; for in the woods they 
haue eaten so much wake-Robin, that they cannot sleepe for loue, 
20 Celia. Alas poore soules, how ill loue sounds in their lips, who 
telling a long tale of hunting, thinke they haue bewray'd a sad 
passion of loue ! 

Niobt, Giue them leaue to loue, since we haue libertie to chuse, 
for as great sport doe I take in coursing their tame hearts, as they 
35 doe paines in hunting their wilde Harts. 

Celia. Niobe^ your affection is but pinned to your tongue, which 
when you list you can vnloose. But let vs read what they haue 
written : Penehpen ipsam perstes modo tempore vinces. That is for 
you Nisa^ whome nothing will mooue, yet hope makes him houer. 
30 Nisa. A fond Hobbie to houer ouer an E^le. 

Niobe, But Forresters thinke all Birds to be Buntings. What's 
the next? Fructus (zbest fades cum bona teste caret. Celiac the 
Forrester giues you good counsel, take your penniworth whiles the 
xnarket semes. 
35 Celia. I hope it will be market day till my deathes day, 

• Nisa, Let me read to. Riuakm patienter habe, Hee toucheth 
you, Niobe, on the quicke, yet you see how patient he is in your 

Niobe, Inconstancie is a vice, which I will not swap for all the 

40 vertues ; though I throwe one off with my whole hand, I can pull 

him againe with my little finger ; let vs encourage them, and write 

something; if they censure it fauourably, we know them fooles; 

if angerly, we wil say they are froward. 

Nisa. I will begin. Cedit amor rebuSy res age, tutus eris. 
4S Celia. Indeed better to tell stars then be idle, yet better idle then 
ill employed. Mine this : Sat mihi si fades, sit bene nota mihi. 
Niobe. You care for nothing but a Glasse, that is, a flatterer. 
Nisa. Then all men are Glasses. 
Celia. Some Glasses are true. 
50 Niobe. No men are ; but this is mine : Victoria tecum stabit. 
Nisa. Thou giuest hope. 
Niobe. He is worthy of it, that is patient. 

Celia. Let vs sing, and so attend on Ceres ; for this day, although 

into her heart neuer entred any motion of loue, yet vsually to the 

55 Temple of Cupid, shee offereth two white Doues, as entreating his 

38 inconstancie] constancie Q F. 


fauour, and one Eagle, as commaunding his power. PrcKtbusi^ 
minas regaliter addet, Cantant 6* Saltant 

{Enter Erisichthon.) 

Eris, What noyse is this, what assembly, what Idolatrie ? Is the 
modestie of virgins turnd to wantonnesse ? The honour of Ceres 
accompted immortal ? And Erisicthon ruler of this Forrest, esteemed 60 
of no force ? Impudent giglots that you are, to disturbe my game, 
or dare doe honour to any but Erisicthon, It is not your faire faces 
as smooth as leate, nor your entysing eyes, though they drew yron 
like Adamants, nor your filed speeches, were they as forcible as 
ThessaiideSf that shall make me any way flexible. 65 

Niobe. Erisicthon^ thy sterne lookes ioynd with thy stout speeches, 
thy words as vnkembd as thy lockes, were able to affright men of 
bold courage, and to make vs silly girles franticke, that are full of 
feare ; but knowe thou, Erisicthon^ that were thy hands so vnstaied 
as thy tongue, and th' one as ready to execute mischiefe as the other 10 
to threaten it, it should neither moue our hearts to aske pittie, or 
remooue our bodies from this place; wee are the handmaides 
diuine Ceres ; to faire Ceres is this holy tree dedicated, to Ceres ^ by 
whose fauour thy selfe liuest, that art worthy to perish. 

Eris. Are you addicted to Ceres^ that in spight of Erisicthon you 75 
wil vse these sacrifices? No, immodest girles, you shal see that 
I haue neither regard of your sexe which men should tender, nor of 
your beautie which foolish loue would dote on, nor of your goddesse, 
which none but pieuish girles reuerence. I will destroy this tree in 
despite of all, and that you may see my hand execute what my heart 80 
intendeth, and that no meane may appease my malice, my last 
word shall bee the beginning of the first blowe. 

(^Smites the trunk with his axe.) 

Celia, Out, alas ! what hath he done ? 

Niobe, Our selues, I feare, must also minister matter to his 
furie. 85 

Nisa. Let him alone : but see, the tree powreth out bloud, and 
I heare a voice. 

Eris, What voice? if in the tree there be any bodie, speake 
quickly, lest the next blow hit the tale out of thy mouth. 

Inde, {from the trunk). Monster of men, hate of the heauens, and 90 

57 addct so QF.,as Lyly may have written 60 immortal ?] F, queries 

immoral? 65 Thesssdides Q F, : query ^Messalinas 88 anybodies F,] LOUES METAMORPHOSIS 305 

to the earth a burthen, what hath chasi Fidelia committed? It is 
thy spite, Cupid^ that hauing no power to wound my vnspotted 
mind, procurest meanes to mangle my tender body, and by violfice 
to gash those sides that enclose a heart dedicate to vertue : or is it 

95 that sauage Satire, that feeding his sensuall appetite vpon lust, 
seeketh now to quench it with bloud^ that being without hope to 
attaine my loue, hee may with cruelty end my life ? Or doth Certt, 
whose nymph I haue beene many yeares, in recompence of my 
inuiolable faith, reward me with vnspeakable torments? Diuine 

100 Phoehus^ that pursued Daphne till shee was turned to a Bay tree, 
ceased then to trouble her ; I, the *gods are pittifuU : and Ciwyras^ 
that with furie followed his daughter Mirrha^ till shee was chaunged 
to a Mirre tree, left then to prosecute her ; yea, parents are naturall : 
Phabus lamented the losse of his friend, Cinyras of his child : but 

105 both gods and men either forgot or neglect the chaunge of Fidelia; 
nay, follow her after her chaunge, to make her more miserable : so 
that there is nothing more hatefull then to be chast, whose bodies 
are followed in the world with lust, and prosecuted in the graues 
with tyrannie; whose minds the freer they are from vice, their 

1 10 bodies are in the more daunger of mischiefe ; so that they are not 
safe when they liue, because of mens loue; nor being chaunged, 
because of their hates ; nor being dead, because of their defaming, 
^hat is that chastitie which so few women study to keep, and both 
gods and men seeke to violate ? If onely a naked name, why are 

115 we so superstitious of a hollow sound? If a rare vertue, why are 
men so carelesse of such an exceeding rarenesse ? Goe, Ladies, tell 
Ceres I am that Fidelia^ that so long knit Garlands in her honour, 
and chased with a Satyre, by praier to the gods, became turned to 
a tree, whose body now is growne ouer with a rough barke, and 

lao whose golden lockes are couered with greene leaues ; yet whose mind 
nothing can alter, neither the feare of death, nor the torments. If 
Ceres seeke no reuenge, then let virginitie be not only the scome , 
of Sauage people, but the spoyle. But alas, I feele my last bloud 
to come, & therfore must end my last breath. Farewel Ladies, 

125 whose Hues are subiect to many mischieues; for if you be faire, it 
is hard to be chast ; if chast, impossible to be safe ; if you be young, 
you will quickly bend ; if bend, you are suddenly broken. If you 
be foule, you shall seldome be flattered ; if you be not flattered, you 

95 Satire F, : satire Q loi, 104 Cineras Q F, loa Mirrha] Miretia 

QF. 115 veiturc/'. 

BOND ni X 

30$ IX)UES METAMORPHOSIS [act i, sc. ii 

will euer bee sorrowfull. Beautie is a firme ficklenes, youth a feeble 
^staiednesse, deformitie a continuall sadnesse. {Dies,) 130 

Niobe. Thou monster, canst thou heare this without griefe ? 

Eris. Yea, and double your griefes with my blowes. 
{He proceeds to fell the tree to the ground,) 

Nisa. Ah poore Fidelia^ the expresse patteme of chastitie, and 
example of misfortune. 

Celia. Ah, cruel Erisicthon, that not onely defaceth these holy 135 
trees, but murtherest also this chast nimph. 

Eris, Nimph, or goddesse, it skilleth not, for there is none that 
Erisicthon careth for, but Erisidhen : let Ceres^ the Lady of your 
haruest, reuenge when shee will, nay, when shee dares ! and tell her 
this, that I am Erisicthon, Mo 

Niobe. Thou art none of the gods. 

Eris, No, a contemner of the gods. 

Nisa, And hopest thou to escape reuenge, being but a man ? 

Eris, Yea, I care not for reuenge, beeing a man and Erisicthon, 

Nisa, Come, let vs to Ceres^ and complaine of this vnacquainted M5 
and incredible villaine : if there bee power in her deitie, in her mind 
pittie, or vertue in virginitie, this monster cannot escape. Exeunt. 


ScENA Prima. — {At Ceres' Tree^ with transfer to Cupid's 

Temple, 11. 39-80.) 

Ceres, Niobe, Nisa, Cupid, Tirtena. 

{Enter C^YCE^, Niobe, Nisa, and Tirtena.) 

Ceres, Doth Erisicthon offer force to my Nymphs, and to my 
deitie disgrace? Haue I stuffed his barnes with fruitfull graine, and 
doth hee stretch his hand against me with intolerable pride ? So it 
is, Ceres, thine eyes may witnesse what thy Nymphes haue told ; 
heere lyeth the tree hackt in peeces, and the bloud scarce cold of 5 
the fairest vii^ne. If this bee thy crueltie, Cupid, I will no more 
hallow thy temple with sacred vowes : if thy cankred nature, 
Erisicthon, thou shalt find as great miserie, as thou shewest 
malice : I am resolued of thy punishment, and as speedie shall bee 
my reuenge, as thy rigour barbarous. Tirtena, on yonder hill 10 

10 Tirtense Q 


where neuer grew graine nor leafe, where nothing is but barren- 
nesse and coldnesse, feare and palenesse, lyeth famine ; goe to her, 
and say that Ceres commaundeth her to gnaw on the bowels of 
Erisicthon^ that his hunger may bee as vnquenchable as his furie. 
15 Tir. I obey ; but how should I know her from others ? 

Ceres^ Thou canst not misse of her, if thou remember but her 
name ; and that canst thou not forget, for that comming neere to the* 
place, thou shalt find gnawing in thy stomacke. Shee lyeth gaping, 
and swalloweth nought but a3n:e ; her face pale, and so leane, that 
30 as easily thou maiest through the verie skinne behold the bone, as in 
a glasse thy shadow ; her haire long, blacke and shaggie ; her eyes 
sunke so fisure into her head, that shee looketh out of the nape of 
her necke ; her lips white and rough ; her teeth hollow and red with 
rustinesse; her skin so thin, that thou maiest as liuely make an 
^5 Anatomic of her body, as shee were cut vp with Chirurgi6s ; her 
maw like a drie bladder, her heart swolne bigge with wind, and all 
her bowels like Snakes working in her body. This monster when 
thou shalt behold, tell her my mind, and retume with speed. 
Tir. I goe, fearing more the sight of famine, then the force. 
3® Ceres. Take thou these few eares of come, but let not famine so 
much as smell to them \ and let her goe aloofe from thee. (^Exii 
TiRTENA.) Now shall Erisicthon see that Ceres is a great goddesse, 
as full of power as himselfe of pride, and as pittilesse as he pre- 
sumptuous : how thinke you Ladies, is not this reuenge apt for so 
35 great iniurie ? 

Niabe. Yes Madam : To let men see, they that contend with the 
gods doe but confound themselues. 

Ceres. But let vs to the Temple of Cupid and offer sacrifice ; they 
that thinke it straunge for chastitie to humble it selfe to Cupid^ 
40 knowe neither the power of loue, nor the nature of virginitie : th' 
one hauing absolute authoritie to commaund, the other difficultie to 
resist : and where such continuall warre is betweene loue and vertue, 
there must bee some parlies, and continuall perils : Cupid was neuer 
conquered, and therefore must be flattered; Virginitie hath, and 
45 therefore must be humble. 

Nisa. Into my heart, Madam, there did neuer enter any motion 
of loue. 

Ceres. Those that often say, they cannot loue, or will not loue, 
certainely they loue. Didst thou neuer see Cupid f 
50 Nisa, No : but I haue heard him described at the full, and, as 

X 2 


I imagined, foolishly. First, that he should bee a god blind and 
naked, with wings, with bowe, with arrowes, with fire-brands ; swim- 
ming sometimes in the Sea, & playing sometimes on the shore ; with 
many other deuices, which the Painters, being the Poets Apes, haue 
taken as great paines to shaddow, as they to lie. Can I thinke that 55 
gods that commaund all things, would goe naked ? What should he 
doe with wings that knowes not where to flie? Or what with 
arrowes, that sees not how to ayme ? The heart is a narrow marke 
to hit, and rather requireth Argus eyes to take leuel, then a blind 
boy to shoote at randome. If he were fire, the Sea would quench 60 
those coles, or the flame tume him into cinders. 

Ceres. Well Nisn^ thou shalt see him. 

Ntsa, I feare Niobe hath felt him. 

Niobe. Not I, Madam, yet must I confesse, that oftentimes 
I haue had sweete thoughts, sometimes hard conceites ; betwixt 65 
both, a kind of yeelding ; I know not what But certainely I thinke 
it is not loue: sigh I can, and find ease in melanchoUy; smile 
I doe, and take pleasure in imagination; I feele in my selfe 
a pleasing paine, a chill heate, a delicate bitternesse, how to 
terme it I know not ; without doubt it may be loue, sure I am 70 
it is not hate. 

Nisa. Niobe is tender hearted, whose thoughts are like water, 
yeelding to euerie thing, and nothing to bee scene. 

Ceres. Well, let vs to Cupid; and take heede that in your stuh- 
bemesse you offend him not, whome by entreaties you ought to 75 
follow. Dianas Nymphes were as chast as Ceres virgines, as faire, 
as wise : how Cupid tormented them, I had rather you should heare 
then feele; but this is truth, they all yeelded to loue: looke not 
scomefully, my Nymphes, I say they are yeelded to loue. This 
is the temple. (^The temple-doors open.) Thou great god Cupid^ 80 
whome the gods regard, and men reuerence, let it bee lawfull for 
Ceres to offer her sacrifice. 

Cupid. Diuine Ceres^ Cupid accepteth any thing that cometh 
from Certs : which feedeth my Sparrowes with ripe come, my 
Pigeons with wholsome seedes ; and honourest my Temple with 85 
chast virgines. 

Ceres. Then, Loue, to thee I bring these white and spotlesse 
Doues, in token that my heart is as free from any thought of loue, 
as these from any blemish, and as cleare in virginitie, as these perfect 

6z theM F. 


90 in whitenesse. But that my Nymphes may know both thy power 
and thy lawes, and neither erre in ignorance nor pride^ let me aske 
some questions to instruct them that they offend not thee, whome 
resist they cannot. In virgines what dost thou chiefest desire ? ]/^ 

Cupid. In those that are not in loue, reuerent thoughts of loue ; 
95 in those that be, faithfull vowes. 

Ceres. What doest thou most hate in virgines ? 

Cupid. Pride in the beautiful!, bitter taunts in the wittie, incredu- 
litie in all. 

Ceres. What may protect my virgines that they may neuer loue ? 
00 Cupid. That they be neuer idle. 

Ceres. Why didst thou so cruellie torment all Dianas Nymphes 
with loue ? 

Cupid. Because they thought it impossible to loue. 

Ceres. What is the substance of loue ? 
05 Cupid. Constancie and secrecie. 

Ceres. What the signes ? 

Cupid. Sighes and teares. 

Ceres. What the causes ? 

Cupid. Wit and idlenesse. 
10 Ceres. What the meanes ? 

Cupid. Oportunitie and Importunitie. 

Ceres. What the end? 

Cupid. Happinesse without end. 

Ceres. What requirest thou of men ? 
15 Cupid. That onely shall be knowne to men. 

Ceres. What reuenge for those that will not loue ? 

Cupid. To be deceiued when they doe. 

Ceres. Well, Cupid^ intreate my Nymphes with (auour, and though 
to loue it be no vice, yet spotlesse virginitie is the onely vertue : let 
20 me keepe their thoughtes as chast as their bodies, that Ceres may 
be happie, & they praised. 

Cupid. Why, Ceres^ doe you thinke that lust foUoweth loue? 
CereSy louers are chast: for what is loue, diuine loue, but the >/ 
quintescens of chastitie, and affections binding by heauenly motions, 
J5 that cannot bee vndone by earthly meanes, and must not be comp- 
trolled by any man ? 

Ceres. Wee will honour thee with continuall sacrifice, warme vs 
with mild affections ; lest being too hotte, wee seeme immodest like 
wantons, or too cold, immoueable like stockes. 


1 / 

^10 LOUES METAMORPHOSIS [act ii, sc. 1 

Cupid. CereSy let this seme for all ; let not thy Nymphes be light 130 
nor obstinate, but as virgines should be, pittifull and faithfull; so 
shall your flames warme, but not burne, delight, and neuer dis- 

Ceres. How say you, my Nymphs, doth not Cupid speake like 
a god ? Counsel you I will not to loue, but coniure you I must 135 
that you be not disdainefulL Let vs in, and see how Erisicthon 
speedeth; famine flieth swiftly, and hath already seyzed on his 
stomacke. Exeunt. 


ScENA Prima. — (^A Glade in the Forest^ with transfer 

to the Tree^ \. 157.) 

Ramis, Nisa, Montanus, Celia, Siluestris, Niobe. 

{Enter Ramis, pursuing Nisa.) 

Ramis. Stay, cruell Nisa, thou knowest not from whome thou 
fliest, and therefore fliest; I come not to offer violence, but that 
which is inuiolable : my thoughts are as holy as thy vowes, and I as 
constant in loue as thou in crueltie : lust followeth not my loue as 
shadowes doe bodies, but truth is wouen into my loue, as veines 5 
into bodies: let me touch this tender arme, and say my loue is 

Nisa. And to no end. 

Ramis. It is without spot. 

Nisa. And shall be without hope. 10 

Ramis. Dost thou disdaine Loue and his lawes ? 
^ Nisa. I doe not disdaine that which I thinke is not, yet laugh at 
those that honour it if it be. 

Ramis. Time shall bring to passe that Nisa shall confesse there 
is loue. 15 

Nisa. Then also will loue make me confesse that Nisa is a foole. 

Ramis. Is it folly to loue, which the gods accompt honourable, 
and men esteeme holy ? 

Nisa. The gods make any thing lawfull, because they be gods, 
and men honour shadowes for substance, because they are men. 20 

Ramis. Both gods and men agree that loue is a consuming of the 
heart and restoring, a bitter death in a sweete life. 

a a restoring,] comma misplaced at ht^xi Q F, 


Nisa. Gods doe know^ and men should, that loue is a consum- 
ing of wit, and restoring of folly, a staring blindnesses and a blind 
35 gaang. 

Ramis. Wouldst thou allot me death ? 

Nisa, No, but discretion. 

Ratnis, Yeeld some hope. 

Nisa, Hope to dispaire. ^ 

30 Ramis. Not so long as Nisa is a woman^ 

Nisa. Therein, Ramis^ you show your selfe a man. 

Ratnis. Why? 

JVisa, In flattering your selfe that all women wil yeeld. 

Ramis. All may. 
55 Nisa. Thou shalt sweare that we cannot. 

Ramis. I will follow thee, and practise by denials to bee patient, 
or by disdaining die, and so be happie. Exeunt. 

{Enter Montanus, pursuing Celia.) 

Man. Though thou hast ouer-taken me in loue, yet haue I 
ouer-taken thee in running : faire Celia, yeelde to loue, to sweete 
40 loue. 

Ceiia. Montanus, thou art mad, that hauing no breath almost 
in running so fast, thou wilt yet spend more in speaking so 
foolishly: yeeld to loue I cannot, or if I doe, to thy loue I 
will not. 
45 Man. The fairest Wolfe chuseth the foulest, if he bee faith- 
fullest, and he that indureth most griefe, not hee that hath most 

CeUa. If my thoughts were woluish, thy hopes might be as thy 
comparison is, beastly. 
50 Mon. I would thy words were, as thy lookes are, louely. 

Celia. I would thy lookes were, as thy aflection is, blind. 

Mon. Faire faces should haue smoothe hearts. 

Celia. Fresh flowres haue crooked rootes. 

Mon. Womens beauties will waine, and then no art can make 
55 them faire ! 

Celia. Mens follies will euer waxe, and then what reason can 
make them wise ? 

Mon. To be amiable and not to loue, is like a painted Lady, to t 
haue colours, and no life. 

30 Not C : No /l 35 we Q F.\ qy. .'one 


Celia. To bee amorous, and not louely, is like a pleasant foole, 60 
full of words, and no. deserts. 

Mon. What call you deserts, what louely ? 
^ Celia. No louelier thing then wit, no greater desert then patience. 

Mon, Haue not I an excellent wit ? 

Celia, If thou thinke so thy selfe, thou art an excellent foole. 65 

V Mon, {with heaf). Foole? no, Ctlia^ thou shalt find me as wise, as 
I doe thee proud, and as little to disgest thy taunts, as thou to 
brooke my loue. 

Celia. I thought, Montanus, that you could not deserue, when 
I told you what it was, Patience. 70 

Mon. Sweete Celioy I will be patient and forget this. 

Celia. Then want you wit, that you can be content to be patient. 

Mon, A hard choyse, if I take all well, to be a foole ; if find 
fault, then to want patience. 

Celia. The fortune of loue, and the vertue, is neither to haue 75 
successe nor meane. Farewel ! {Exit,) 

Mon. Farewell? nay, I will follow! and I know not how it 
commeth to passe, disdaine increaseth desire; and the further 
possibilitie standeth, the neerer approacheth hope. I follow ! 

{Enter Silvestris and Niobe.) 

Sil. Polypus^ Niobe^ is euer of the colour of the stone it sticketh 80 
' to, and thou euer of his humor thou talkest with. 

Niobe. Find you fault that I loue? 

5/7. So many. 

Niobe. Would you haue me like none ? 

Sil, Yes, one. 85 

Niobe. Who shall make choyse but my selfe ? 

Sil. My selfe. 

Niobe. For another to put thoughts into my head were to pull the 
braynes out of my head ; take not measure of my affections, but 
weigh your owne ; the Oake findeth no fault with the dewe, because 90 
it also falleth on the bramble. Beleeue me, Siluestris^ the onely way 
to be mad, is to bee constant. Poets make their wreathes of Lawrell, 
Ladies of sundrie flowers. 

Sil, Sweete Niobe^ a ryuer running into diuers brookes becommeth 
shallow, and a mind diuided into sundrie affections, in the end will 95 

60 foole, comnia inserted F. 6a I not F, 75 vcrtne, no comma Q F. : 

F, also om, Qs comma at lone 70, 79 s. D. (Mr) [Kxit] om. Q : Exeunt. F. 


haue none. What joy can I take in the fortune of my loue, when 
I shall know many to haue the like fauours ? Turtles flocke by 
couples, and breede both ioy and young ones. 

Niobe, But Bees in swarmes, and bring forth waxe and honie. 
100 SiL Why doe you couet many, that may find sweetnesse in one ? 
Niobe. Why had Argus an hundred eyes, and might haue seene 
with one ? 

SiL Because whilest he slept with some, he might wake with 
other some. 
-X05 Niobe, And I loue many^ because, being deceiued by the incon- 
stancie of diuers, I might yet haue one. 
•S/7. That was but a deuice of luno^ that knewe lupiters loue. 
Niobe. And this a rule of Venus^ that knew mens lightnes. 
SiL The whole heauen hath but one Sunne. 
no Niobe, But starres infinite. 

SiL The Rainebow is euer in one compasse. 
Niobe, But of sundrie colours. 
•S/7. A woman hath but one heart 
Niobe, But a thousand thoughts. 
115 Sil, My Lute, though it haue many strings, maketh a sweete 
consent ; and a Ladies heart, though it harbour many fancies, should 
embrace but one loue. 

Niobe, The strings of my heart are tuned in a contrarie keye to 
your Lute, and make as sweete harmonic in discords, as yours in 
Z30 concord. 

•S/7. Why, what strings are in Ladies hearts ? Not the base. 
Niobe, There is no base string in a womans heart. 
Sil, The meane ? 

Niobe, There was neuer meane in womans heart. 
135 SiL The treble? 

Niobe, Yea, the treble double and treble; and so are all my 
heartstrings. Farewell ! 

Sil, Sweete Niobe, let vs sing, that I may die with the Swanne. 
Niobe, It will make you sigh the more, and Hue with the Salamich. 
130 SiL Are thy tunes fire ? 
Niobe. Are yours death ? 

5/7. No ; but when I haue heard thy voice, I am content to die. 
Niobe, I will sing to content thee. 

Cantant {then exit Niobe). 

126 treble'] treble, /: 


5/7. Inconstant Ntobe! vnhappie SiluestrisI yet had I rather 
shee should rather loue all then none : for nowe though I haue no 155 
certaintie, yet doe I find a kinde of sweetnesse. 

(^Re-enter Ramis.) 

Ratnis, Cruell Nisa^ borne to slaughter men ! 

(^Re-enter Montanus.) 

Mon, Coy Celia^ bred vp in skoffes ! 

5/7. Wauering, yet wittie Niobe! But are wee all met ? 

Ramis. Yea, and met withall, if your fortunes be answerable 140 
to mine, for I find my Mistris immoueable, and the hope I haue is 
to despaire. 

Men. Mine in pride intolerable, who biddeth me looke for no 
other comfort then contempt. 

SiL Mine is best of all, and worst; this is my hope, that either 145 
shee will haue many or none. 

Ramis, I feare our fortunes cannot thriue, for Erisicthon hath 
felled downe the holy tree of Ceres^ which will encrease in her choler, 
and in her Nymphes crueltie : let vs see whether our Garlands bee 
there which we hanged on that tree ; and let vs hang our selues vpon 150 

5/7. A remedie for loue irremoueable ; but I will first see whether 
all those that loue Niobe do like : in the meane season I will content 
my selfe with my share. 

Mon, Here is the tree. O mischiefe scarce to be beleeued, 155 
impossible to be pardoned ! 

Ramis, Pardoned it is not, for Erisicthon perisheth with famine, 
and is able to starue those that looke on him. Here hang our 
Garlands : something is written ; read mine. 

5/7. Cedit amor rebus^ res age, tutus eris, , 160 

Mon. And mine. 

5i7. Sat mihi si fades, sit bene nota mihi. 

Now for my selfe, 

Victoria tecum stabit — scilicet, 

Mon. You see their posies is as their hearts ; and their hearts as 165 
their speeches, cruell, proud, and wauering : let vs all to the Temple 
of Cupid^ and intreate his fauour, if not to obtaine their loues, yet to 
reuenge their hates: Cupid is a kinde god, who, knowing our 
vnspotted thoughts^ will punish them, or release vs. Wee will 

149 garland F. 150 the F, 164 scilicet as pari of quotation Q F. 


170 studie what reuenge to haue, that our paines proceeding of our 
owne minds, their plagues may also proceed from theirs. Are you 
all agreed? 

St7. I consent ; but what if Cu^id denie helpe ? 
Mon, Then he is no god. 
175 5/7. But if he yeeld, what shall we aske ? 
Jiamis. Reuenge. 
Mon, Then let vs prepare our selues for Cupids sacrifice. 


ScENA Secvnda.— (51f<i^^^^ near Erisichthon's jFarm.} 

Erisicthon, Protea, Marchant. 

{Enter Erisichthon and Protea.) 

Eris, Come, Protea^ deare daughter, that name must thou buy 
too deare ; necessitie causeth thee to be sold, nature must frame thee 
to be contented. Thou seest in how short a space I haue turned all 
my goods into my guts, where I feele a continuall fire, which 
5 nothing can quench : my famine increaseth by eating, resembling 
the Sea, which receiueth all things, and cannot bee filled: life is 
sweete, hunger sharpe; betweene them the contention must bee 
short, vnlesse thou, Protea^ prolong it. I haue acknowledged my 
offence against Ceres ; make amends I cannot, for the gods holding 

10 the ballance in their hands, what recompence can equally weigh 
with their punishments? Or what is hee that hauing but one ill 
thought of CereSy that can race it with a thousand dutiful! actions ? 
such is the difference, that none can find defence : this is the ods^ 
we miserable, and men ; they immortall, and gods. 

1 5 Pro, Deare father, I will obey both to sale and slaughter, accompt- 
ing it the onely happinesse of my life, should I liue an hundred 
yeares, to prolong yours but one mynute : I yeeld, father, chop and 
chaunge me, I am readie; but first let mee make my prayers to 
Neptune^ and withdraw your selfe till I haue done : long it shall not 

20 bee, now it must be. 

Eris, Stay, sweete Protea^ and that great god heare thy prayer, 
though Ceres stop her eares to mine. 

(Erisichthon retires.') 
Pro, SsLcredJVeptune, whose godhead conquered my maiden-head, 
bee as ready to heare my passions, as I was to beleeue thine, and 

25 performe that now I intreate, which thou didst promise when thy 


sdfe didst loue. Let not me bee a pray to this Marchaunt, who 
knowes no other god .then Gold, vnlesse it bee falsely swearing by 
a god to get gold ; let me, as often as I be bought for money, or 
pawnd for meate, be turned into a Bird, Hare, or Lambe, or any 
shape wherin I may be safe ; so shall I preserue mine owne honour, 30 
my fathers life, and neuer repent me of thy loue : and now bestirre 
thee, for of all men, I hate that Marchant, who, if he find my beautie 
worth one pennie, will put it to vse to gaine ten, hauing no Religion 
ih his mind, nor word in his mouth but money. Neptune^ heare now 
or neuer. Father, I haue done. 35 

Eris, (^advancing). In good time, Proiea^ thou hast done ; for loe, 
the Marchant keepeth not onely day, but hower. 

Fro, If I had not beene here, had I beene forfeited ? 

Eris. No, Proiea, but thy father famished. {Enter a Merchant.) 
Here, Gentleman, I am ready with my daughter. 40 

Pro. Gentleman? 

Mar. Yea, Gentleman, faire maide ! my conditions make me no 

Pro. Your conditions in deed brought in your obligations, your 
obligations your Vsurie, your Vsurie your Gentrie. ^5 

Mar. Why, doe you iudge no Marchants Gentlemen ? 

Pro. Yes, many, and some no men ! 

Mar. You shall be well intreated at my hands. 

Pro, It may. Commaunded I will not be. 

Mar. If you be mine by bargaine, you shall. 50 

Pro. Father, hath this Marchant also bought my mind ? 

Eris. He cannot buy that, which cannot be sold. 

Mar. Here is the money. 

Eris. Here the maide: farewell, my sweete daughter; I commit 
thee to the gods, and this mans curtesie, who I hope will deale no 55 
worse with thee, then hee would haue the gods with him. I must 
bee gone, lest I doe starue as I stand. Exit. 

Pro. Farewell, deare Father, I will not cease continually to pray 
to Ceres^ for thy recouerie. 

Mar. You are now mine, Protea. 60 

Pro. And mine owne. 

Mar. In will, not power. 

Pro. In power if I will. 

59 thy 0m. F. 


Mmr, I pocriK Ncltk% gendj tondied, sdqg; but roq^lf 
^5 li^wiBH ^ adbe bo flnait. 

/V«L Yet roagblf huidhdL Nettles are Nettle^ and a Waspe is 
a Waspe^ tfaoi^ diee lose her sdng. 
Mwr. But dm diey doe no hanne. 
/VsL Nor good. 
70 Mwr. Caaie widi me^ and 70a siiaD see thai Havdoamts knov 
their good as wefl as Ge n tlemen, 
jT9m Sore I an, diey hane Gentienens goods. 


ScESA FuDUL—iB^bre ike Iht^ sfCamk} 
Ramis, Montaxus, Silubstms^ Cunix 
{^Enier ike ikne Foresten mik e^aimgs.'^ 
Xawus, This is the Temple of oar gicat god, let ts ofler our 

Mom. I am readie. 

SiL And I. Cupid^ thou god of kme^ whose arrowes haue 
5 pierced our hearts, giue eare to our plaints. 

{The iett^le-doart open.) 
Cupid. If you come to Cupid^ speake boldly, so must loners; 
speake foithfuUy, so must speeders. 

Ramis. These euer bumii^ Lampes are signes of my neuer to be 

quenched flames; this bleeding heart, in which yet stickes the head 

10 of the golden shaft, is the liudy picture of inward torments : mine 

eyes shall bedewe thine Altars with teares, and my sighes couer thy 

Temple with a darke smoake : pittie poore Rattds. 

Mon. With this distafie haue I spun, that my exercises bee as 

womanish as my affections, and so did Hercuies: and with this 

15 halter will I hang my selfe, if my fortunes answere not my deserts, 

and so did Jphis. To thee, diuine Cupid^ I present not a bleeding, 

but a bloudlesse heart, dried onely with sorrow, and wome with 

laithfuU seruice. 

This picture I offer, earned with no other instrument then Loue ; 

20 pittie poore Monianus. 

SiL This £mne of Swans and Turtles feathers is token of my 
truth and iealousie : iealousic^ without which loue is dotage, and with 


which loue is madnesse ; without the which loue is lust, and with 
which loue is folly. This heart, neither bleeding nor bloudlesse, but 
swolne with sighes, I offer to thy godhead, protesting that all my 25 
thoughts are, as my words, without lust, and all my loue, as my 
fortune, without sweetnesse. This Garland of flowers, which hath 
all colours of the Rainebowe, witnesseth that my heart hath all 
torments of the world : pittie poore Siiuestris, 

Cupid, I accept your offers, not without cause ; and wonder at 30 
your loues^ not without pleasure : but bee your thoughts as true as 
your words ? 

Ramis, Thou Cupidy that giuest the wound, knowest the heart ; 
for as impossible it is to conceale our affections, as to resist thy 
force. 35 

Cupid, I know that where mine arrowe lighteth, there breedeth 
loue ; but shooting euerie minute a thousand shafts, I know not on 
whose heart they light, though they fall on no place but hearts. 
What are your mistresses ? 

Ramis, Ceres maidens : mine most cruell, which shee calleth 40 

Mon. Mine most faire, but most proud. 

5i7. Mine most wittie, but most wauering. 

Cupid, Is the one cruell, th' other coye, the third inconstant ? 

Ramis, Too cruell ! 45 

Mon, Too coye ! 

SiL Too fickle! 

Cupid, What do they thinke of Cupid f 

Ramis. One saith hee hath no eyes, because he hits hee knowes 
not whome. 50 

Mon. Th' other, that he hath no eares, to heare those that call. 

Si/. The third, that he hath no nose, for sauours are not found 
of louers. 

Ramis. All, that hee hath no taste, because sweete and sower is 
all one. 55 

Mon, All, that hee hath no sence, because paines are pleasures, 
and pleasures paines. 

Sil. All, that he is a foolish god, working without reason, and 
suffering the repulse without regard. 

Cupid. Dare they blaspheme my god-head, which loue doth 60 

53 fonnd Qi fond /*« 


worship, Neptune reuerence, and all the gods tremble at ? To make 
them loue were a reuenge too gentle for Cupid: to make you hate, 
3i recompence too smal for louers. But of that anon ; what haue you 
ysed in loue? 
^5 Ramis. All things that may procure loue,— giftes, words, othes, 
jsighs, and swounings. 

Cupid, What said they of gifts ? 

Man, That affection could not bee bought with gold. 

Cupid, What of words ? 
70 Ramis. That they were golden blastes, out of Leaden bellowes. 

Cupid. What of othes? 

Sil, That Jupiter neuer sware true to Juno, 

Cupid, What of sighes ? 

Sil, That deceipt kept a forge in the hearts of fooles. 
75 Cupid, What of swounings ? 

Mon, Nothing, but that they wished them deathes. 

Cupid, What reasons gaue they, not to loue ? 

^7. Womens reasons ; they would not, because they would not. 

Cupid, y^^y then shall you see Cupid requite their reasons 
«o with his xigour. What punishment doe you desire, that Cupid will 

Ramis, Mine being so hard as stone, would I haue turned to 
stone ; that being to louers pittilesse, shee may to all the world b^ 
85 Mon, Mine being so faire and so proud, would I haue turned into 
some flower; that shee may know beautie is as fading as grasse, 
which being fresh in the morning, is withered before night. 

Sil, Mine, diuine Cupid^ whose affection nothing can make staied, 

let her be turned to that Bird that liueth only by ayre, and dieth if 

90 shee touch the earth, because it is constant. The bird of Paradise, 

Cupid^ that, drawing in her bowels nothing but a3rre, shee may know 

her heart fed on nothing but ficklenesse. 

Cupid, Your reuenges are reasonable, and shall bee graunted. 
Thou Nisa^ whose heart no teares could pearce, shalt with continuall 
95 wanes be wasted : in stead of thy faire haire, shalt thou haue greene 
mosse; thy face of flint, because thy heart is of marble; thine 
cares shall bee holes for fishes, whose eares were more deafe then 
fishes. Thou Celia^ whome beautie made proud, shalt haue the 
iruite of beautie, that is^ to fade whiles it is flourishing, and to blast 
zoo before it is blowne. Thy face, as faire as the Damaske rose, shall 


perish like the Damaske rose ; the canker shall eate thee in the bud, 
and euerie little wind blow thee from the stalke, and then shall men 
in the morning weare thee in their Hats, and at night cast thee at 
their heeles. Thou Niobe^ whome nothing can please, (but that 
which most displeaseth Cupid^ inconstancie) shalt only breathe and 105 
sucke ayre for foode, and weare feathers for silke, beeing more 
wauering then ayre, and lighter then feathers. This will Cupid doe. 
Therefore, when next you shall behold your Ladies, doe but send 
a faithful! sigh to Cupid^ and there shall arise a thicke mist which 
Proserpine shall send, and in the moment you shall be reuenged, no 
and they chaunged, Cupid proue himselfe a great god, and they 
peeuish girles. 

Ramis. With what sacrifice shall wee shewe our selues thankful!, 
or how may we requite this benefit ? 

Cupid. You shal yerely at my Temple offer true hearts, and 115 
howerly bestow all your wits in louing deuices ; thinke all the time 
lost, that is not spent in loue ; let your othes be without number, but 
not without truth ; your words full of alluring sweetnesse, but not of 
broad flatterie; your attires neate, but not womanish; your giftes 
of more price for the fine deuice, then the great valewe, and yet of I'o 
such valew that the deuice seeme not beggerly, nor your selues 
blockish; be secrete, that worketh myracles; bee constant, that 
bringeth secrecie ; this is all Cupid doth commaund. Away ! 

Ratnis. And to this we all willingly consent 

( The temple-doors close. ) 

Nowe what resteth but reuenge on them tliat haue practised 125 
malice on vs ? let mine be any thing, seeing shee will not be onely 

Mon, Let vs not now stand wishing, but presently seeke them 
out, vsing as great speed in following reuenge as we did in pursuing 
our loue : certainely wee shall find them about Ceres tree, singing or 130 

Sil. But shall we not goe visit Erisicthon ? 

Mon. Not I, lest hee eate vs, that deuoureth all things; his 
lookes are of force to famish : let vs in, and let all Ladies beware to 
offend those in spight, that loue them in honour ; for when the Crow 135 
shall set his foote in their eye, and the blacke Oxe tread on their 
foote, they shall finde their misfortunes to be equal! with their 
deformities, and men both to loath and laugh at them. Exeunt. 

129 punaing Qx puising F. 


ScENA Secvnda. — (^Seashore near Erisichthon's Farm,) 

Erisicthon, Protea, Petulius, Syren. 

(^Enter Erisichthon and Protea.) 

Eris. Come, Protea^ tell me, how didst thou escape from the 
Marchant ? 

Pro, Neptune^ that great god, when I was ready to goe with the 
Marchaunt into the ship, turned me to a Fisherman on the shore, 
5 with an Angle in my hand, and on my shoulder a net ; the 
Marchaunt missing me, and yet finding me, asked me who I was, 
and whether I saw not a faire maiden? I answered, no! Hee 
marueiling and raging, was forced either to lose his passage, or 
seeke for mee among the Pebbles ! To make short, a good wind 
xo caused him to goe I know not whither, and me (thanks be to 
Neptune) to returne home. 

Eris, Thou art happie, Protea, though thy Father bee miserable : 
and Neptune gracious, though Ceres cruell : thy escape from the 
Marchaunt breedeth in me life, ioy, and fulnesse. 
15 Pro, My father cannot be miserable, if Protea be happie ; for by 
selling me euerie day, hee shall neuer want meate, nor I shiftes to 
escape. And, now. Father, giue me leaue to enioy my Petuiius, that 
on this vnfortunate shore still seekes me sorrowing. 

Eris. Seeke him, deare Protea ; find and enioy him ; and Hue 

30 euer hereafter to thine owne comforts, that hast hitherto beene the 

preseruer of mine. Exit, 

Pro. Aye me, behold, a Syren haunts this shore ! the gods forbid 
shee should entangle my Petulius, Syren (^appears). 

Syren, Accursed men! whose loues haue no other meane then 
25 extremities, nor hates end but mischiefe. 

Pro, Vnnaturall monster! no maide, that accuseth men, whose 
loues are built on truth, and whose hearts are remoued by curtesie : 
I will heare the depth of her malice. 

Syren, Of all creatures most vnkind, most cunning, by whose 
30 subtilties I am halfe fish, halfe flesh, themselues being neither fish 
nor flesh ; in loue luke warme, in crucltie red hot ; if they praise, 
they flatter ; if flatter, deceiue ; if deceiue, destroy. 

Pro, Shee rayles at men, but seekes to intangle them : this slight 

ScENA Prima Q, corrected F, s. d. Syren appears F, : Q, simply Syren in 
middle of page 26-7 whose loues . . , truth, and om, F, 



is prepared for my sweete PetuUus ; I will withdraw my selfe close, 
for Petulius followeth : hee will without doubt be enamored of her, 35 
enchaunted hee shall not be, my charmes shall counteruaile hers ; 
it is he hath saued my Fathers life with money, and must prolong 
mine with loue. 

(^Enier Petulius.) 

Pet I maruaile Proiea is so farre before me : if shee runne, lie 
flie : sweete Protea, where art thou ? it is Petulius calleth Protea. 40 

Syren. Here commeth a braue youth. Now Syren^ leaue out 
nothing that may allure — thy golden lockes, thy entising lookes, thy 
tuned voice, thy subtile speeche, thy faire promises, which neuer 
missed the heart of any but Vlisses. 

Sing with a Giasse in her hand and a Combe. 

Pet What diuine goddesse is this? What sweete harmonie? my 45 
heart is rauished with such tickling thoughts, and mine eyes stayed 
with such a bewitching beautie, that I can neither find the meanes 
to remoue my aflfection, nor to tume aside my lookes. 

Sing againe Syren. 

I yeeld to death, but with such delight, that I would not wish to 
Hue, vnlesse it were to heare thy sweete layes. 50 

Syren. Liue still, so thou loue me ! why standest thou amazed at 
the word Loue ? 

Pro, {behind). It is high time to preuent this mischiefe. Nowe, 
Neptune^ stand to thy promise, and let me take suddenly the shape 
of an olde man ; so shall I marre what shee makes. 55 

{Exit into the structure at back.) 

Pet. Not yet come to my selfe, or if I bee, I dare not credit mine 
eares. Loue thee,, diuine goddesse? Vouchsafe I may honour 
thee, and liue by the imagination I haue of thy words and worthi- 

Syren. I am {not) a goddesse, but a Ladie and a virgine, whose 60 
loue if thou embrace, thou shalt liue no lesse happie then the gods 
in heauen. 

{Re-enter Protea as an old man.) 

Pro. Beleeue not this Inchauntresse (sweete youth) who retaineth 
the face of a Virgine, but the heart of a Fiend, whose sweet tongue 5- 
sheadeth more drops of bloud then it vttereth sillables. 

8. D. Sing Q : Sings /*• 56 mine] my F. 


JPet Ou^ dottrell f whose dimme eyes cannot discerae beautie^ 
nor doting age iudge of loue* 

Pro. If thou listen to her words, thou shalt not liue to repent : 
for her malice is as suddaine as her ioyes are sweete. 
^ Pet. Thy siluer haires are not so precious as her golden lockes, 
nor thy crooked age of that estimation as her flowring youth* 

Syren. That old man measureth the hot a^ssault of loue with the 
cold skirmishes of age. 
Pro. That young cruell resembleth old Apes, who kill by culling : 
75 from the top of this Rocke whereon shee sitteth, will shee throw thee 
headlong into the Sea, whose song is the instrument of her witchcraft, 
neuer smiling but when shee meaneth to smite, and vnder the 
flatterie of loue practiseth the sheading of bloud. 
Pet What art thou, which so blasphemest this diuine creature ? 
80 Pro. I am the Ghost of V/isses, who continually houer about 
these places, where this Syren haunteth, to saue those which other- 
wise should be spoyled : stop thine eares, as I did mine, and succour 
the faire, but, by thy folly, the most infortunate Protea. 
Pet Protea 1 What dost thou heare, Petulius? Where is 
85 Protea ? 

Pro. In this thicket, ready to hang her selfe, because thou carest 

not for her, that did<st) sweare to follow. Curse this hag, who onely 

hath the voice and face of a Virgine, the rest all fish and feathers, 

and filth ; follow me, and strongly stoppe thine eares, lest the second 

90 encounter make the wound incurable. 

Pet Is this a Syren, and thou Vlisses ? Cursed be that hellish 
carkas, and blessed be thy heauenly spirit 

Syren. I shrinke my head for shame. O V/tsses / is it not enough 
for thee to escape, but also to teach others ? Sing and die, nay die, 
95 and neuer sing more. 

J^. FoUowe me at this doore, and out at the other, 

{JThey pass through the central structure y Protea emerging 

in her own character,) 
Pet, How am I deliuered ! the old man is vanished, and here for 
him stands Protea, 

Pro, Here standeth Protea, that hath saued thy life, thou must 
100 also prolong hers : but let vs into the woods, and there I will tell thee 
howe I came to Vlisses, and the summe of all my fortunes, which 
happily will breed in thee both loue and wonder. 

75 sittith /; 87 that didst] F, in note proposed that thou didst 

Y Z 

124: LOUES METAMORPHOSIS [act iv, sc. ii 

, Pet I will, and onely loue Frotea^ and neuer cease to wonder at 
Proiea, Exeunt. 


ScENA Prima. — (^Before the Temple (/Cupid.) 
{Enter} CsRHS, Cupid, Tirtena. 

Ceres. Cupidy thou hast transformed my Nymphes and incensed 
me ; them to shapes vnreasonable, me to anger immortal!, for at one 
time I am both robd of mine honour and my Nymphes. 

Cupid, CereSy thy Nymphes were stubbome, and thy selfe, 
speaking so imperiously to Cupid^ somewhat stately. If you aske 5 
the cause in choller, Sic volo^ sic iubeo: if in curtesie, Quce venit ex 
merito pcena dolenda venit. They were disdainefull, and haue their 
deserts ; thou Ceres^ doest but goueme the guts of men, I the 
hearts : thou seekest to starue Erisicthon with thy minister, famine, 
whome his daughter shall preserue by my vertue, loue. lo 

\ Ceres. Thou art but a god, Cupid. 

Cupid. No CereSy but such a god that maketh thunder fall out of 
loues hand, by throwing thoughts into his heart, and to bee more 
terrified with the sparkling of a Ladies eye, then men with the flashes 
of his lightning : such a god that hath kindled more fire in Neptunes 75 
bosome, then the whole Sea which he is king of can quench : such 
power haue I, that Plutaes neuer dying fire doth but scorch in 
respect of my flames. Diana hath felt some motions of loue, Vesta 
doth, Ceres shall. 

Ceres. Art thou so cruell ? ao 

Cupid. To those that resist, a Lyon; to those that submit, 
a Lambe. 

Ceres. Canst thou make such difference in affection, and yet shall 
it all be loue ? 

Cupid. Yea, as much as betweene sicknesse and health, though 25 
in both bee life : those that yeeld and honour Cupid^ shall possesse 
sweete thoughts and enioy pleasing wishes: the other shall bee 
tormented with vaine imaginations and impossible hopes. 

Ceres. How may my Nymphes be restored ? 
' Cupid. If thou restore Erisicthon^ they embrace their loues, and 30 
all offer sacrifice to me. 

s. D. Tirtena. Q F. See note 9 ministred . Q F. 


' Ceres. Erisicthon did in contempt hewe downe my sacred tree. 
Cupid, Thy Nymphes did in disdaine scorne my constant love. 
Ceres. He slew most cruelly my chast JFidelia^ whose bloud lieth 
35 yet on the ground. 

Cupid. But Diana hath chaunged her bloud to freshe flowers, 
which are to be scene on the ground. 

Ceres. What honour shal he doe to Ceres 9 What amends can 
he make to Fidelia t 
40 Cupid. All Ceres grone shall he decke with Garlands, and accompt 
euerie tree holy ; a stately monument shall hee erect in remembraunce 
of Fidelia, and offer yearely sacrifice. 

Ceres. What sacrifice shall I and my Nymphes offer thee? for 
I will doe any thing to restore my Nymphes, and honour thee. 
45 Cupid, You shall present in honour of my mother Venus^ Grapes 
and Wheate; for Sine Cerere 6* Bauho friget Venus. You shall 
suffer your Nymphes to play, sometimes to be idle, in the fauour of 
Cupid ; for Otia si tollas, periere Cupidinis arcus. So much for 
Ceres. Thy Nymphes shall make no vowes to continue Virgins, ^^ 
50 nor vse words to disgrace loue, nor flie from oportunities that kindle 
affections : if they be chast, let them not bee cruell ; if faire, not 
proud ; if louing, not inconstant Crueltie is for Tygers, pride for 
Peacockes, inconstancie for fooles. 

Ceres. Cupid, I yeeld, and they shall: but sweete Cupid^ let ^ 
55 them not be deceiued by flatterie, which taketh the shape of 
affection, nor by lust, which is clothed in the habit of loue ; for men 
haue as many slights to delude, as they haue words to speake. 

Cupid, Those that practise deceit shall perish: Clv/iit/ fauoureth 
none but the faithfull. 
60 Ceres. Well, I will goe to Erisicthon^ and bring him before thee. 
Cupid. Then shall thy Nymphes recouer their formes, so as they 
yeeld to loue. 

Ceres, They shall. Exeunt. 

ScENA Secvnda. — {The same,) 
{Enter) Petulius, Protea. 

Pet. A straunge discourse, Protea^ by which I find the gods 
amorous, and Virgines immortall, goddesses full of crueltie, and men 
of vnhappinesse. 

61 formes F, : fames Q ScsNA Prima Q, carr, F. 2 immortall, 

JF', rightly transfers Qs comma from goddesses 


Pro, I haue told both my Fathers misfortunes, grown by stoutnesse, 
and mine by weaknesse ; his thwarting of Ceres ^ my yeelding X,o Neptune. 5 

Pet I know, Protea^ that hard yron, falling into fire, waxeth soft ; 
and then the tender heart of a Virgine being in loue, must needes 
melt : for what should a faire yong, and wittie Ladie answere to the 
sweete inticements of loue, but, 

Molle meum leuibus cor est violabile telis ? 10 

Pro. I haue heard too, that hearts of men stifTer then Steele, haue 
by loue beene made softer then wooll, and then they crie, 
Omnia vincit amor^ &* nos cedamus amort. 

Pet. Men haue often fained sighs. 

Pro. And women forged teares. 15 

Pet. Suppose I loue not. 

Pro. Suppose I care not. 

Pet. If men sweare and lie, how will you trie their loues ? 

Pro. If women sweare they loue, how will you trie their dissembling? 
^ Pet. The gods put wit into women. ao 

Pro. And nature deceite into men. 

Pet. I did this but to trie your patience. 

Pro. Nor I, but to prooue your faith. But see, PetuKus^ what 
miraculous punishments here are for deserts in loue : this Rocke was 
a Njrmph to Ceres ; so was this Rose ; so that Bird. 25 

Pet. All chaung'd from their shapes ? 

Pro. All chaung'd by Cupid^ because they disdain'd loue, or 
dissembrd in it. 

Pet. A faire warning to Protea ; I hope shee will loue without 
dissembling. 30 

Pro. An Item for Petulius^ that hee delude not those that loue 
him ; for Cupid can also chaunge men. Let vs in. Exeunt. 

ScENA Tertia. — {The same.) 

(^Enter) Ramis, Siluestris, Montanus. 

Ramis. This goeth luckily, that Cupid hath promised to restore 
our mistresses : and Ceres^ that they shall accept our loues. 

Mon. I did euer imagine that true loue would end with sweete 
ioyes, though it was b^un with deepe sighs. 

10 leuibus . . . telis Q {Cf. M. Bomb. iv. X. 35) : lenibus . . . telit F. Scbna 
Qvarta 6, corrected F. 


5 Si7. But how shall we looke on them when we shal see them 
smile? We must, and perchaunce they will, frowne. 

J^amss. Tush ! let vs indure the bending of their faire browes, and 
the scorching of their sparkling eyes, so that we may possesse at last 
the depth of their affections. 
10 Man. Possesse? Neuer doubt it; for Ceres hath restored 
Erisicthonj and therefore will perswade with them, nay, commaund 

SiL If it come by commaundement of Ceres^ not their owne 

motions, I rather they should hate : for what ioye can there be in our 

'5 lines, or in our loues sweetnesse, when euerie kisse shall bee sealed 

with a curse, and euerie kind word proceed of feare, not affection ? 

enforcement is worse then enchantment* 

Ramis. Art thou so superstitious in loue, that wast wont to be 
most carelesse ? Let them curse all day, so I may haue but one 
20 kisse at night. 

M(m, Thou art worse then Siluestris ; hee not content without 
absolute loue, thou with indifferent. 

Sil. But here commeth Ceres with Erisicthon: let vs looke 
demurely ; for in her heart shee hates vs deepely. 

ScENA Vltima. — {The same,) 

Cupid, Ceres, Nymphes, Erisicthon, Petulius, Protea. 

{Enter^ to the Foresters, Ceres and Erisichthon.> 

Eris. I will hallow thy woods with solemne feastes, and honour 
all thy Nymphes with due regard* 

Ceres, Well, doe so; and thanke Cupid that commands; nay, 

thanke my foolish Nymphes, that know not how to obey ; here be 

5 the louers ready at receipt. How now. Gentlemen, what seeke you ? 

Ramis, Nothing but what Ceres would find. 

Ceres. Ceres hath found those that I would shee had lost, vaine 


Ramis. Ceres may lose that that Cup'd would saue, true louers. 
10 Ceres. You thinke so one of another. 
Sii. Cupid knoweth so of vs all. 

Ceres. You might haue made me a counsell of your loues. 
Mbn. I madame, if loue would admit counsell. 

18 wast Q r was /; Scena Vltima Q F. 



( The temple-doors open, ) 

Ceres. Cupid, here is Erisicthon in his former state ; restore my 
Nimphs to theirs, then shal they embrace these louers, who wither 15 
out their youth. 

{Enter Petulius with Protea.) 

Eris. Honoured bee mightie Cupid, that makes me liue ! 

Pet, Honoured bee mightie Cupid, that makes me loue. 

Fro. And me ! 

Ceres, What, more louers yet ? I thinke it bee impossible for ao 
Ceres to haue any follow her in one hower, that is not in loue in the 

Cupid. Erisicthon, bee thou carefuU to honour Ceres^ and forget 
not to please her Nymphs. The faithful! loue of thy daughter Protea, 
hath wrought both pittie in me to graunt her desires, and to release 25 
thy punishments. Thou Petulius shalt enioy thy loue, because 
I know thee loyall. 

Pet, Then shall Petulius be most happie. 

Pro, And Protea most fortunate. 

Cupid. But doe you, Ramis, continue your constant loue ? and you, 3^ 
Montanus ? and you, Siluestris t 

Ramis, Nothing can alter our affections, which encrease while the 
meanes decrease^ and waxe stronger in being weakened. 

Cupid. Then, Venus, send downe that showre, wherewith thou 
wert wont to wash those that doe thee worship ; and let loue by thy 35 
beames bee honoured in all the world, and feared, wished for, and 
wondred at : here are thy Nymphs, Ceres. 

Ramis, Whome doe I see ? Nisa t 

Mon, Diuine Celia, fairer than euer shee was ! 

Sil. My sweete Niobe ! 40 

Ceres, Why stare you, my Nymphs, as amazed? triumph rather 
because you haue your shapes: this great god Cupid, that for 
your prides and follies changed, hath by my praier and promise 
restored you. 

Cupid. You see. Ladies, what it is to make a mocke of loue, or 45 
a scome of Cupid: see where your louers stand; you must now 
take them for your husbands; this is my iudgement, this is Ceres 

Ramis. Happie Ramis ! 

17 line Q : loue /• 18 Pet Honoured.. • . loue om, F, 25 relase F. 


50 Mon, Kappie Montatms / 
StV. Happie Siluesiris / 

Ceres. Why speake you not, Nymphes ? This must bee done, and 
you must yeeld. 
Ntsa, Not I! 
55 Niobe. Nor I ! 
Celia. Nor I! 

Ceres, Not yeeld? Then shal Cupid in his furie turne you 
againe to sencelesse and shamefull shapes. 

Cupid, Will you not yeeld? How say you, RanUs^ Doo your 
60 loues continue? Are your thoughts constant? & yours Monianus9 
And yours Siiuestris ? 
jRamis. Mine most vnspotted 1 
Mon, And mine I 

SiL And mine, Cupid^ which nothing can alter I 
65 Cupid. And will you not yeeld, Virgins ? 

Nisa. Not I, Cupid! neither doe I thanke thee that I am 
restored to life, nor feare againe to be chaunged to stone : for rather 
had I beene wome with the continuall beating of wanes, then dulled 
with the importunities of men, whose open flatteries make way to 
70 their secret lustes, retaining as little truth in their hearts as modestie 
in their words. How happie was Nisa^ which felt nothing ; pined, 
yet not felt the consumption ! vnfortunate wench, that now haue 
eares to heare their cunning lies, and eyes to behold their dissembling 
lookes I turne me, Cupid^ againe, for loue I will not 1 
75 Ramis. Miserable Ramist vnhappie to loue; to chaunge the 
Ladie, accurst ; and now lose her, desperate I 

CeUa. Nor I, Cupid: well would I content my selfe to bud in 
the Summer, and to die in the Winter : for more good commeth of 
the Rose, then can by loue : when it is fresh, it hath a sweete 
80 sauour ; loue, a sowre taste : the Rose, when it is old, loseth not his 
vertue ; loue, when it is stale, waxeth loathsome. The Rose, distilled 
with fire, yeeldeth sweete water: loue, in extremities, kindles 
iealousies : in the Rose, how euer it be, there is sweetnes ; in loue 
nothing but bitternesse. If men looke pale, and sweare, & sigh, then 
85 forsooth women must yeeld, because men say they loue, as though 
our hearts were tied to their tongues, and we must chuse them by 
appointment, our selues feeling no affection, and so haue our 

60 Are] And F, 71 -a pined yet, Q 


thoughtes bound prentises to their word^ : turne me againe. Yeeld 
I will not ! 

Mon. Which way shalt thou turne thy selfe, since nothing will 90 
turne her heart ? Die, MontanuSy with shame and griefc, and both, 
infinite ! 

Niobe. Nor I, Cupid! let me hang alwayes in the ayre, which 
I found more constant then mens words : happie Niobe^ that touched 
not the ground where they goe, but alwayes holding thy beake in 95 
the ayre, didst neuer turne backe to behold the earth. In the 
heauens I saw an orderly course^ in the earth nothing but dis- 
orderly loue^ and pieuishnesse : turne me againe, Cupid, for yeeld 
I will not ! 

SiL I would my selfe were stone, flower, or fowle ; seeing that 100 
Niobe hath a heart harder then stone, a face fairer then the Rose, 
and a mind lighter then feathers. 

Cupid, What haue we here? Hath punishment made you 
peruerse? Ceres, I vowe here by my sweete mother Venus, that if 
they yeeld not, I will turne them againe, not to flowers, or stones, or 105 
birds, but to monsters, no lesse filthie to bee seene then to bee 
named hatefull : they shall creepe that now stand, and be to all men 
odious, and bee to themselues (for the mind they shall retaine) 

Ceres. My sweete Nymphs, for the honor of your sex, for the loue no 
of Ceres, for regard of your own countrie, yeeld to loue ; yeeld, my 
sweete Nymphes, to sweete loue. 

Nisa. Shall I yeeld to him that practised my destruction, and 
when his loue was hotest, caused me to bee chaunged to a rocke ? 

Ramis. Nisa, the extremitie of loue is madnesse, and to be mad 115 
is to bee sencelesse ; vpon that Rocke did I resolue to end my life : 
faire Nisa, forgiue him thy chaunge, that for himselfe prouided 
a harder chaunce. 

Celia. Shall I yeeld to him that made so small accompt of my 
beautie, that he studied how he might neuer behold it againe? 120 

Mon. Faire Ladie, in the Rose did I alwayes behold thy colour, 
and resolu'd by continuall gazing to perish, which I could not doe 
when thou wast in thine owne shape, thou wast so coy and swift in 
flying from me. 

Niabe. Shall I yeeld to him that caused me haue wings, that 125 
I might flie farther from him ? 

loz Niobe] Nisa Q F. 


Si/. Sweete Niobe^ the farther you did seeme to bee from me^ the 
Tieerer I was to my death, which, to make it more speedy, wisht thee 
wings to flie into the ayre, and my selfe lead on my heeles to sinke 
isointo the Sea. 

Ceres. Well, my good Njrmphes, yeeld; let Ceres intreat you 

Nisa, I am content, so as RanUs^ when hee finds me cold in loue, 
or hard in beliefe, hee attribute it to his owne folly ; in that I retaine 
135 some nature of the Rocke he chaunged me into. 

Ramis. O, my sweete Nisa I bee what thou wilt, and let all thy 
imperfections bee excused by me, so thou but say thou louest me. 
Nisa. I doe. 
Ramis. Yiz^^tRamist 
140 CeHa, I consent, so as Montanus^ when in the midst of his sweete 
delight, (he) shall find some bitter ouerthwarts, impute it to his folly, 
in that he suffered me to be a Rose, that hath prickles with her 
pleasantnes, as hee is like to haue with my loue shrewdnes. 
Mon. Let me bleed euerie minute with the prickles of the Rose, 
145 so I may enioy but one hower the sauour; loue, faire Celia^ and at 
thy pleasure comfort, and confound. 
Celia. I doe. 

Mon, FortunsXt Mon/anus / 

Niode. I yeelded first in mind though it bee my course last to 
150 speake : but if Siluestris find me not euer at home, let him curse 
himselfe that gaue me wings to flie abroad, whose feathers if his 
iealousie shall breake, my policie shall imp. 

Nan custodiri, ni velit^ vlla potest 
Si/. My sweete Niode I flie whither thou wilt all day, so I may find 
If 5 thee in my nest at night, I will loue thee, and beleue thee. 

A*/ modo^ nonfeci^ dicere /ingua memor. 
Cupid. I am glad you are all agreed ; enioy your loues, and euerie 
one his delight. Thou, Erisict/ton^ art restored of Ceres^ all the 
louers pleased by Cupid^ shee ioyfull, I honoured. Now, Ladies, 
160 I will make such vnspotted loue among you, that there shall bee no 
suspition nor iarre, no vnkindnesse nor iealousie: but let all 
Ladies heereafter take heede that they resist not loue, which worketh 

Ceres. I will charme my Nymphes, as they shall neither be so 
165 stately as not to stoope to loue, nor so light as presently to yeeld. 

15a imp] nip QF. 155 beleue] beloue Q F. 162 take om. F. 

33« LOUES METAMORPHOSIS [act v, sa iv 

Cupid, Here is none but is happie : but doe not as Hippotnanes 
did, when by Venus ayd bee wonne Atlanta^ defile her Temple 
with vnchast desires, and forgot to sacrifice vowes. I will soare vp 
into heauen, to settle the loues of the gods» that in earth haue 
dispos'd the affections of men. 170 

Ceres. I to my haruest, whose come is now come out of the blade 
into the eare; and let ali this amorous troupe to the temple of 
Venus^ there to consummate what Cupid hath commaunded. 

Eris, Ij in the honour of Cupid and CereSy will solemnize this 
feast within my house; and leame, if it be not too late, agatne to 175 
loue. But you Forresters were vnkind, that in all my maladies would 
not visit me. 

Mon. Thou knowest^ Erisicihon^ that louers visit none but their 

, Eris. Welly I wii not take it vnkindly, since all ends in kind- 180 

Ceres. Let it bee so : these louers mind nothing what we say. 

Ramis. Yes, we attend on Ceres. 

Ceres. Well, doe. Exeunt 


167 AtalanU F. 168 forget F. 




7%e Maydes Metctmorpkcsis, As it hath hent smtdrie times Acfid hy Hki 
CMiidren of Pewits, London : Jointed by Thomas Creede, for Hichard OHue, 
dwelling in kng Lane, i6oa 4^ 

Reprinted in A Collection of Old PlaySy voL i, 1883, 4*, pp. 99-164, with 
IntrodnctioQ and Notes by A. H. Bnllen. 

I add here the title of the other play once claimed for Lyly (see below, p. 334) — 

A Warning for Faire JVomen, containing The most Tragicall amd 
Lameniable Murther of Master George Sanders^ of London^ Manhanty nigh 
Shooters Hill ; consented unto by his otune wife, aeted by M. Browne, Mistris 
Drewry and Trusty Roger, agents therin : with thitr seuermll ends. As it hath 
beene lately diuerse times acted by the right Honorable the Lord Chamberlaine 
his SeruatUes, Printed at London by Valentine Sims for William Apsley. 
1599. 4°. 

Reprinted in The School of Shahs^ere, yoL ii, 1878, 8% with Introdmction and 
Notes by Richard Simpson. 



Two anonymous plays were included by Wood {Athenae Oxum., 1691, 
cd. Bliss, i. 676) in the list of Lyly's pieces : l, A Warning for Faire 
Women^ pub. 1599; 2. The Maydes MetofnorphosiSy pub. 1600. The 
assignment of the first seems to have originated with Milton's nephew, 
Edward Phillips, in his Theatrum Poetarum (1675), p. 113; that of the 
second with William Winstanley, Lives of the English Poets (1687), p. 97, 
where, as he mentions every play of Lyl/s save Loves Metamorphosis, 
it is probably a mistake for the latter. 

The first, though accepted by Winstanley and Wood, was rejected by 
langbaine in his English Dramatick Poets^ Oxf., 1691 ; since when the 
attribution to Lyly has found, as it deserves, no support. The play, 
a domestic tragedy of the type of Arden of Feversham^ presents, in speech 
or conduct, no resemblance whatever to Lyly's work. 

The second appears to have passed unquestioned as Lyl/s down to the 
present century ; being accepted by Langbaine, by Reed in his continua- 
tion of Baker*s Biographia Dramaticoy 1 782, and by Dilke in his Old 
English Plays, 18 14, vol. i. p. 201 • The first indication of doubt seems 
to have come from CoUier, who in his History of Dramatic Poetry^ iii. 
p. 12, speaks of it as < attributed doubtfuUy to Lyly,' though on an earlier 
page (p. 4) he acknowledges that there is * no sufficient reason to deprive 
him of it, unless that it is better in some respects than his other plays,' 
and sketches its contents with some approval. But Fairholt, in 1858, 
pronounced decidedly against it, and rejected it from his edition of the 
plays. Two years later Bodenstedt (Shakespear^s Zeitgenossen und ihre 
Werke^ iii. 50) impugned his decision, but only on the grounds of a 
general ascription to Lyly and the great likeness of the fairy-songs to 
others of his. Mr. Gosse assigned it to Day, an assignment supported by 
Mr. A. H. Bullen, who reprinted it in his Collection of Old Plays, vol. i. 
l8S2« Since then it has been generally rejected ; though Mr. Fleay, in 
1 891, while assigning the greater part of it to Daniel, considers the prose 
bits (the boys Mopso and Frisco, ii. 2, iii. 2), and especially the Fairies 
in il 2| ' almost certainly by Lyly ' {Biog^ Chron. lu 324)» Mn Baker, 


weighing the question in his edition of Endtmion^ 1894* PP- dxxvi-ix, 
decides once more against Lyly's authorship ; and the balance of evidencei 
as of modem opinion, is in my judgement quite with hinu 

The Argument is briefly as follows. Two courtiers, Phylander and 
Orestes, charged by Duke Telemachus to kill a * mayd of meane discent,* 
Eurymine, who is beloved by the Prince Ascanio, after a dramatic reve- 
lation to her of their purpose by means of a feigned tale, are finally moved 
to spare her on condition that she conceals herself. They satisfy the duke 
by presenting him with a kid's heart for hers, together with a piece of 
lawn from her dress ; while Eurymine, now the object of competition 
between a forester and a shepherd, accepts a cottage from the one and 
a £ock to tend from the other. Ascanio, after dispatching his comic page 
Joculo in search of her, is visited in sleep, under Juno's direction, by 
Morpheus in the shape of Eurymine, who advises him to repair for 
news of her to a certain hermit. Meanwhile the god Apollo, vainly urging 
on the beautiful shepherdess his own passion^ is challenged by her to 
prove his boasted deity by changing her into a man, and, in his anger, 
actually does so. The hermit, an exiled prince, Aramanthus, who has 
studied astrology, informs Ascanio that the object of his love is a man ; 
but when at length the pair meet, the prince recognizes Eurymine notwith- 
standing her male dress, obtains assurance of her continued regard^ and 
repsurs to the Graces to entreat their infercession with Apollo, who at last 
consents to her retransformation. Apollo further discovers to Aramanthus 
that Eurymine is his long-lost daughter ; while the Duke, relenting, learns 
the deception practised on him and invites the lovers>to return to Court. 
The pastoral element is supported by choruses led by^tSemulo the shepherd 
and Silvio the ranger ; while comic relief is supplied in the intercourse of 
their respective boys, Mopso and Frisco, with Joculo and with some 
Fairies, and in the scene where Iris rouses Somnus to procure the vision 
for Ascanio. 

The rhymed heroics in which the piece is, with the exception of the 
comic prose passages, almost entirely composed, are not without a share^ 
in places, of lyric beauty ; and the songs are graceful and pretty enough. 

The following details are suggestive of Lyly : — 

Act i. I. 56 'within his fathers Court | The Saint was shrinde^ (cf. 
Eupk. i. 215 1. i). 

Act i. 1. 229 * record '= remember (Euph. i. 303 1. 31, ii. 25 1. 14, 35 1. 19, 
J85 L 8) ; iv. I. 13, 2. 42=* sing' {IVoman, iiL i. 79, EupA, ii. 58 1. 7). 

Act i. I. 309 ' I haue a garden full of Bees ' (cf. Fidus in Euph. ii. 44). 

Act i. I, 320 ' Why, hunting is a pleasure for a King ' (cf. Mid. iv, 3, 
5 ' hunting is for kings, not peasants '). 

Act ii. I.' 62 Joculo's aside to the audience (cf. Gunophilus, Womafiy 
iii. 2. 208; Cupid, Gall, ii. 2. 13). 

Act iii. 2. 28 Joculo's pun ' a Kitchen God, Pan ' (cf. Mid. iv. i. 61 


' all Pan and tinkerly ') ; and later in the scene his pun on ' poynts ' {cL 
Call, i. 4. 42, ii. 3. 42). » 

Act iv. I. 71 the making- the good Aramanthas * Prince of Lesbos He * 
(cf. Midas f iii. i. 53, i v. 2. 31 sqq.). 

Act V. I. 1 13 the musical reference— the brook as a bass to the birds* 

In the conduct of the action, too, though the reader will be reminded 
most of Spenser's Faerie Queenej on which the verse too is often modelled, 
yet there are several points in which it can be paralleled from Lyly*s 
dramatic work, e. g. in the title as compared with that of Loves Metamor- 
phosis ; in the use made of Ovid's Metamorphoses in regard to Somnus 
and his three sons (ii. i) and Apollo and Hyacinth (iii. i); in the ima- 
ginary transfer of scene to Somnus' cave (ii. 1. 139-49) and its subsequent 
contradiction (IL 185-6) by the continued presence of the sleeping Ascanio ; 
in the successive exits at the end of iii. 2 and iv. i, as in Mother BonUd^y 
ii. 2 and iL 5 (c£ Sperantus' ' If all bee gone, He not staie' with Joculo's 
y Nay let them go a Gods name, one by one ') ; in the change effected in 
the heroine's sex, as in Gallathea ; in the vain suit of shepherds and 
foresters to her, as in The Woman and Loves Metamorphosis ; in the sleep 
of the hero like that of Endimion ; in the appeal of the several characters 
to the wizard or astrologer living a hermit's life in a cave, like Cassander, 
or Sybilla, or Mother Bombie, and in the considerable likeness of the 
scene between Aramanthus and the boys (iii. 2) to that between Mother 
Bombie and the wags in that play (iii. 4) ; in the interview between Ara- 
manthus and Ascanio (iv. i), which a little resembles that between Geron 
and Eumenides, while his wrapt absent manner at its commencement is 
very like that of the Alchemist and Astronomer in Gailathea ; in the 
employment of servant-boys to make fun ; in the introduction of fairies 
(whose dialogue with the boys, as Bullen notes, is a little like that of 
Shakespeare's fairies with Bottom) ; and in the large intervention of the 
classical deities. The last three points, however, are fairly common by 
1596 or 1600^; while the others, though characteristic of Lyly, may 
nevertheless indicate some younger playwright, familiar with the work o£ 
previous years. The conduct of the opening scene and of that where 
ApoUo changes Eurymine have, for me, an abruptness and direct force 
wholly foreign to Lyly's manner or genius ; while Aramanthus' connexion 
with Eurymine is more lamely and casually treated than it would have 
been in his hands. The pastoral contains no compliments to Elizabeth ;. 
and the recourse to the demodd vehicle of the rhymed couplet seems 
unlikely in one who had written such good blank verse as is to be found 

^ Jocnlo's remark in iv. i. 157 'Maister be contented, this is leape yeare,* 
may suggest one or other of these years as that of the play's original production, 
or may have been added on Lyly's revival of it in 1600, to which date *• 1599 ' of 
the Table (vol. ii, p. 230} should perhaps be altered. 


in The Woman in the Mo&ne, It is true that Lyly, in the Prologue to 
The IVonum^ had spoken of writing another verse-play ; but, if this is the 
fulfilment of the promise, why does his name not appear on the title-page, 
as on those of The Woman, 1597, and Loves Metamorphosis , 1601 ? 

So &r as the actual verse is concerned little argument can be drawn 
from the disappearance of the peculiar ' mechanical devices ' of Lyly's 
style. Absent from the blank verse of The Woman^ they would still 
more naturally be absent from a novel experiment in rhymed heroics* 
But in the matter and sentiment, as apart from the conduct of the action, 
I find nothing specially characteristic of him beyond the few faint echoes 
cited above : and the general texture of the verse appears to me too thin 
and slight, and sometimes too prosy and obvious, in spite of Spenserian 
passages of poetic merit, to be the product of Lyly's brain ^— even the songs 
are too simfde and spontaneous, too artless, for him; though I should 
admit the possibility of his authorship of the Fairies' songs in Act ii, of the 
duet between Gemulo and Silvio in Act iv, and of the closing song in 
Act V. But in the two prose-scenes between Joculo, Mopso and Frisco 
(iL 2, iil 2) I do feel that there is a sufficient likeness, a siufficient amount 
of antithesis and word-play» to make his late authorship of these possible ; 
though I am by no means sure that there is more than might easily be 
acquired by a young playwright imitating a popular predecessor, and I do 
not think it very probable that one in Lyly's rather distinct position would 
be found collaborating at all. They might, however, be added by him on 
the occasion of his coaching the Paul's Boys in the performance of the 
play, in 1599 or i6oa 

Disbelieving, then, in his authorship of the whole, and admitting only 
a possibility of his authorship of the two prose-scenes, ii. 2 (containing the 
Fairies) and iii. 2 (with its considerable resemblance to iii. 4 of Mother 
Bomhie), and perhaps of the duet in Act iv and the closing song of Act v, 
I have decided to print the play in a category apart as * doubtful,' that 
the reader may be able to verify all that is here said and judge for 

Mr. Fleay (Biograph, Chronicle, ii. 324) says ' the style of most of the 
play is just that of Daniel's earlier dramatic work.' Now Daniel's earliest 
dramatic works were the strict Senecan tragedies Cleopatra and Philotas, 
pub. 1594 and 1605 respectively, in verse rhymed for the most part alter- 
nately, not in couplets, and far stronger, more regular, of a n\ore ethical 
and intellectualized cast than is that of the Maydes Metamorphosis, which 
is written and conducted throughout in the freer spirit of the Romantic 
drama. Also, Mr. Fleay urges, in 1604 Daniel published The Vision of 
the Twelve Goddesses, in which Juno, Iris and Somnus are introduced 
as in ii. I of M. M,, and 'some of the very words are repeated.' 

* The tameness, however, of some of the verse in my lately-identiBed Enter- 
tainmcnts as well as in the Poems, weakens the force of this argument 



For particular expressions, however, affording ground for comparison, 
i look in vain ; nor could anything be farther from the dignified 
conduct and diction of Daniel's Vision than the comic or serio-comic 
treatment of Juno, Iris and Somnus in M, M, Mr. Fleay rightly urges 
that the Prologue of M, M, is more appropriate to some private occa- 
sion like a wedding than to a public audience ; but the line of Daniel's 
first sonnet from which he says 'Then to the boundlesse Ocean of 
your woorth/ Prol. 1. 9, is taken, really runs * Unto the boundless ocean 
of thy beauty' ; and the mere fact that at the end of the play the Muses 
dance to Apollo's music is certainly not sufficient to identify it with the 
masque performed at the wedding of Lord Herbert with Anne Russell 
on June 16, 1600, where Muses did the same thing \ Some general 
likeness, however, may be admitted between our play and Daniel's Vision^ 
which, further, carries something of the same sense of being written by 
one influenced by Lyly's work \ 

Mr. Gosse and Mr. Bullen pronounce for Day's authorship; and 
Mr. Bullen, Day's editor in 188 1, cites a parallel in his Humour out of 
Breath for ' the merciless harrying of the word kind^ at the beginning of 
Act V, and in Law Trickes, v. i, for the echo-scene in iv. i of our play, 
while he considers ' the amoebaean rhymes between Gemulo and Silvio 
(Act i) in their sportive quaintness, as like Day's handiwork as they are 
unlike Lyly's.' Mr. Bullen here, and still more in his Introduction to 
I^^Yi P- 33i is somewhat less than just to Lyiy ; but, putting that aside, 
one may acknowledge that the general style of The Maydes Metamorphosis 
is more like Day. Day, when he wrote verse, generally chose the rhymed 
couplet, which there is no instance of Lyly's using : and the chief metrical 
characteristics of this play, (i) a noticeable carelessness about the rhymes 
chosen ; (2) the frequent leaving of a line unrhymed in the middle of 
a rhymed passage ; (3) a tendency to run into twelve syllables ', and espe« 
cially to do this where the line is divided between two characters, e. g. iii. 

^ See however above, vol. i. p. 381 note, where I have followed Fleay so far as 
to suppose that our play may have been given on the Tuesday or Wednesday 
night of the same occasion, and that the last line of the Epilogue may refer to the 
masque of the preceding Monday night, June 16. 

' The Vision was composed as a masque, and represented January 8, 1604-5, 
not 1603-4 ** Fleay asserts {Biog, Chrofu i. 90). Before the end of Jan. an 
unauthorized quarto without author s name was issued by £dw. Allde, with title The 
Troe Discription of a Royall Masque, Presented at Hampton Courts vpon Sunday 
nighty heing the eight of January ^ 1604. And Personated by the Queenes most 
J^xcellent Majestie^ eUtended by Eleuen Ladies of Honour London Printed by 
Edward Allde, and are to be solde at the LongShoppe, adjoyning imto S. Mildreds 
Church in the Poultrye 1^60)4. (3 copies are in the Br. Mus.), which compelled 
Daniel to issue a correct ed. in 8vo entitled The Vision of the Twelve Goddesses 
presented in a masque at Hampton Court, the 8 of January ^ ^c. Printed by 
T, C.for Simon fVeUerson, 1604. A copy exists in the Bodleian. See £. Law's 
ed. of the 4<> of 1623, (1880), Introd. pp. 49-50. 

' Instances su« not unknown in Lyly, e.g. vol. i. 479 1. 15 and Woman, iv. i. 24^ 


I* 7^9 79f ^3) 131 ; iv. 2. 91 ; v. 1.42 ; (4) a certain confusion or misappre- 
hension in the use of double-rhymes, e. g. iii. i. 21-2, 178-9 ; iv. 2. 65-6 
(cf. Day's Parliament of Bees y p. 49, *A pirate* with *hate'); are all 
paralleled in Day's work '. In Day's Law Trickes there is a page named 
Joculo : in The He of Gvls a gprl named Mopsa. The resemblances to 
Lyly's work in the conduct of The Maydes Metamorphosis may be refer- 
able to a conscious or unconscious imitation by Day of the older dramatist, 
of his familiarity with whose work I can point to two rather striking 
instances, (i) Law Trickes ^ iii. p. 41, ' doost see Vulcan with the homing 
parenthesis in his forehead,' a joke inexplicable save by reference to that 
of the smith Calypho in Sapho and Phao, iiL 2. 47 sqq. ; (2) The lie of 
Gvlsy ii. I. p. 48, Violetta's remarks about 'maydenhead' are exactly 
parallel to Pipenetta's song on the same subject in Midas ^ v. 2. p. 154 : — 

' But in the allowd opinion of most, 
Tis nener traly had till it be lost. 

And in my dreame me thought twas too mnch wrong 
A prettie maid should lie alone so long.' 

On the whole, then, without feeling quite convinced, I am content to 
acquiesce in the view that this play is an early work by that author, 
probably touched and added to by Lyly in the course of his rehearsal of 
it with the Paul's Boys in 1599 or 1600. 

I reprint it literatim et punctuoHm from the quarto, using conical 
brackets for one or two trifling additions, and appending the quarto 
reading in a footnote in the few cases where I have emended the text. 
A number of explanatory or illustrative notes, some from Mr. Bullen, will 
be found at the end, though I have not treated the play quite so elabo- 
rately as those in which Lyly's hand is undoubted. 

* Instances in Lyly are vol. i. 476 11. 30-1 ; 483 IL 3-4 ; 468 11. 7-8. 

Z 2 



^tilh/tthhmejmJTietmts AM 
1} lie cMrntftmlii, 


Printed by Thomas Creede, for Richard 

Oliue, dwdh ng in long Lane. 


The Prologue 

^T^He fnanifold great /(Btuours we haue found, 
By you, to vs poore weaklings still extended: 

Whereof your vertues haue bene only ground. 

And no desert in vs to be so friended: 

Bindes vs some way or other to expresse, 5 

(Though all our all be else defeated quite 

Of any meanes) saue duteous thankefulnes. 

Which is the vtmost measure of our might : 

Then to the boundlesse Ocean of your woorth. 

This little drop of water we present: 10 

Where though it neuer can be singled foorth. 

Let zeale be pleader far our good intent. 

Drops not diminish, but encrease great floods: 
And mites impaire not, but augment our goods. 

The Maydes Metamor- 

(ACT l.> 

< Scene I.) 

Enter Phylander^ Orestes ^ Eurymine. 


T^Hylander^ and Orestes ^ what conceyt 

Troubles your silent mindes? Let me intreat 

Since we are come thus farre, as we do walke 

You would deuise some prettie pleasant talke: 

The aire is coole, the euening high and faire, 5 

Why should your cloudie lookes, then shew dispaire? 
Phy. Beleeue me (aire Eurtmine, my skill 

Is simple in discourse, and vtterance ill: 

Orestes if he were disposde to trie, 

Can better manage such affaires than I. lo 

Eu, Why then Orestes let me craue of you 

Some olde, or late done story to renew: 

Another time you shall request of me 

As good, if not, a greater curtesie. 
Or, Trust me as now (nor can I shew a reason) 15 

All mirth vnto my mind comes out of season : 

For inward I am troubled in such sort, 

As all vnfit I am to make report 

Of any thing may breed the least delight, 

Rather in teares, I wish the day were night: 20 

For neither can my selfe be merry now. 

Nor treat of ought that may be likte of you. 
Eu. Thats but your melancholike old disease. 

That neuer are disposde but when ye please. 
Ph. Nay mistresse, then since he denies the taske 25 

My selfe will strait (ac)compl]sh what ye aske: 

And though the pleasure in my tale be small, 

Yet may it serue to pass the time withalL 


Eu, Thanks good Phylander, when you please say on, 

Better I deeme a bad discourse, then none. 30 

Phy. Sometime there liu'd a Duke not far from hence, 

Mightie in fame, and vertues exceUence, 

Subiects he had, as readie to obey 

As he to rule: beloued euery way^ 

But that which most of all he gloried in, 35 

(Hope of his age, and comfort of his kin,) 

Was the fruition of one onely sonne, 

A gallant youth, inferior vnto none 

For vertue, shape, or excellence of wit, 

That after him vpon his throne might sit 40 

This youth when once he came to perfect age, 

The Duke would faine haue linckt in marris^^e 

With diuers dames of honourable blood. 

But stil his fathers purpose he withstood. 
Eu. How, was he not of mettal apt to loue ? 45 

Phy, Yes apt enough, as wil the sequel proue. 

But so the streame of his affection lay, 

As he did leane a quite contrary way, 

Disprouing still the choyce his father made, 

And (^tentimes the matter had delaid: 50 

Now giuing hope he would at length consent. 

And tlien again, excusing his intent 
Eu. What made hun so repugnant in his deeds? 
Phy, Another loue, which this disorder breeds : 

For euen at home within his Others Court 55 

The Saint was shrinde, whom he did honor most: 

A louely dame, a virgin pure and chaste. 

And worthy of a Prince to be imbrac'te. 

Had but her birth (which was obscure they said) 

Answerd her beautie, this their opinion staid. 60 

Yet did this wilful youth affect her still. 

And none but she was mistres of his will 

Full often did his father him disswade. 

From liking such a mean and low borne mayde. 

The more his father stroue to change his minde, 65 

The more the sonne became with fancy blinde. 
Eu. Alas, how sped the silly Louers then ? 
Phy, As might euen grieue the rude vnciuePst men. 

When herevpon to weane his fixed heart 

From such dishonour, to his high desert, 70 

The Duke had labourd, but in vaine did striue. 

Thus he began his purpose to contriue: 


Two of his seruants of vndoubted troth, 

He bound by vertue of a solemne oath, 

To traine the silly damzel out of sight, 75 

And there in secret to bereaue her quite 
Eu, Of what, her life ? 
Phy. Yes Madame of her life, 

Which was the cause of all the former strife. 
Eu^ And did they kill her? 
Phy. You shall heare anon : 

The question first must be discided on 80 

In your opinion, whats your iudgement ? say. 

Who were most cruell : those that did obay, 

Or he that gaue commandment for the &ct? 
Eu, In each of them it was a bloody act : 

Yet they deserue (to speake my mind of both) 85 

Most pardon, that were bound thereto by oath. 
Phy, It is enough, we do accept your doome. 

To passe vnblam*d, what ere of you become. 
Eu, To passe vnblamde, what ere become of me ? 

What may the meaning of these speeches be ? 90 

Phy, Eurymine^ my trembling tongue doth fSaile, 

My conscience yrkes, my fainting sences quaile: 

My faltring speech bewraies my guiltie thought, 

And stammers at the message we haue brought. 
Eu. Ay me, what horror doth inuade my brest ? 95 

Or. Nay then Phy lander I will tell the rest. 

Damzell thus fares thy case, demand not why. 

You must forthwith prepare your selfe to dye. 

Therefore dispatch, and set your. mind at rest. 
Eu, Phylcmder is it true? or doth he iest? loo 

Phy, There is no remedie but you must dye: 

By you I framde my tragicke history. 

The Duke my maister, is the man I meant, 

His Sonne, the Prince, the mayd of meane discent 

Your selfe, on whom Ascanio so doth doate, 105 

As for no reason may remoue his thought: 

Your death the Duke determines by vs two. 

To end the loue betwixt his sonne and you: 

And for that cause we trainde you to this wood, 

Where you must sacrifice your dearest blood. no 

Eur, Respect my teares. 

Orest, We must regard our oath. 

Eur, My tender yeares. 
Or, They are but trifles both. 


Eu. Mine innocency. 

Or. That would our promise breake. 

Dispatch forthwith, we may not heare you speake* 
Eu. If neither teares nor innocency moue, ti5 

Yet thinke there is a heauenly power aboue. 
Orest, A done, and stand not preaching here all day. 
Eu, Then since there is no remedie, I pray 
Yet good my maisters, do but stay so long 

Till I haue tane my farewell with a song, 1 20 

Of him whom I shall neuer see againe. 
Phy. We will affoord that respit to your paine. 
Eu, But least the feare of death appall my mind, 
Sweet gentlemen let me this fauour find. 

That you wil vale mine eye-sight with this scarfe : 125 

That when the fatall stroke is aymde at me, 
I may not start, but suffer patiently. 
Orest. Agreed, gpue me, He shadow ye from feare, 

If this may do it 
Eu, Oh I would it might 

But shadowes want the power to do that right 130 

Shee sings. 
Ye sacred Fyres, and powers aboue, 
Forge of desires working loue, 
Cast downe your eye, east downe your eye 
Vpon a Mayde in miserie. 

My sacrifice is louers blood: 135 

And from eyes salt teares a flood: 
All which I spend, all which I spend 
For thee Ascanio^ my deare friend : 
And though this houre I must feele 
The bitter sower of pricking Steele, 140 

Yet ill or well, yet ill or well 
To thee Ascanio still farewell. 
Orestes offers to strike her with his Rapier^ and is stayed 

by Phy lander* 
Or est. What meanes Phy lander^ 
Phy. Oh forbeare thy stroke, 

Her piteous mone and gesture might prouoke 

Hard flints to ruthe. 145 

Orest. Hast thou forgot thy oath? 
Phy, Forgot it? na 

Or, Then wherfore doest thou interrupt me so? 
Phy. A sudden terror ouercomes my thought 
Or, ThS sufler me, that stands in fear of nought. 


Phy. Oh hold Orestes^ heare my reason first. 150 

Or, Is all religion of thy vowe forgot ? 

Do as thou wilt, but I forget it not. 
Phy, Orestes^ if thou standst vpon thine oath. 

Let me alone, to answere for vs both. 
On What answer canst thou giue? I wil not stay. 155 

Phy. Nay villain, then my sword shall make me way. 
Or. Wilt thou in this, against thy conscience striue? 
Phy, I will defend a woman while I Hue. 

A virgin, and an innocent beside, 

Therefore put vp, or else thy chaunce abide. 160 

Or. He neuer sheath my sword, vnles thou show, 

Our oath reserued, we may let her go. 
Phy. That will I do, if truth may be of force. 
Or, And then wil I be pleasd to graunt remorse. 
Eu. Litle thought I when out of doore I went, 165 

That thus my life should stand on argument. 
Phy. A lawfull oath in an vnlawfuU cause. 

Is first dispenc't withall, by reasons lawes: 

Then next, respect must to the end be had, 

Because th' intent, doth make it good or bad. 170 

Now here th' intent is murder as thou seest. 

Which to performe, thou on thy oath reliest: 

But since the cause is wicked and vniust, 

Th' effect must likewise be held odious. 

We swore to kill, and God forbids to kill : 175 

Shall we be rulde by him, or by mans will? 

Beside it is a woman is condemde: 

And what is he that is a man indeed, 

That can endure to see a woman bleed ? 
Or. Thou hast preuaild, Eurymine stand vp, 180 

I will not touch thee for a world of gold. 
Phy. Why now thou seemst to be of humane mould. 

But on our graunt faire mayd that you shall Hue, 

Will you to vs your faithfuU promise giue. 

Henceforth t'abandon this your Country quite, 185 

And neuer more retume into the sight 

Of fierce Telemachus^ the angry Duke, 

Whereby we may be voyd of all rebuke ? 
Eur. Here do I plight my chaste vnspotted hand, 

I will abiure this most accursed land : 190 

And vow henceforth what fortune ere betide. 

Within these woods and desarts to abide. 

16s I"] & G 


Phy, Now wants there nothing, but a fit excuse, 

To sooth the Duke, in his conceiu*d abuse: 

That he may be perswaded she is slaine, 195 

And we our wonted fauour still maintaine. 
OresL It shall be thus, within a Lawne hard by, 

Obscure with bushes, where no humane eye, 

Can any way discouer our deceite: 

There feeds a heard of Goates, and country neate. 200 

Some Ktdde, or other youngling, will we take, 

And with our swords dispatch it for her sake. 

And hauing slaine it, rip his panting breast, 

And take the heart of the vnguiltie beast : 

Which to th'intent, our counterfeit report 305 

May seeme more likely, we will beare to court: 

And there protest with bloody weapons drawne. 

It was her heart. 
Phy. Then likewise take this Lawne, 

Which well Telettuichus did know she wore: 

And let it be all spotted too with gore. 210 

How say you mistress^, will you spare that vale? 
Eur, That or what else, to verifie your tale: 

And thankes Phylander^ and Orestes both. 

That you preseme me from a Tyrants wroth. 
Phy. I would it were within my power, I wis, 215 

To do you greater curtesie then this : 

But what we cannot by our deeds expresse 

In heart we wish to ease your heauinesse. 
Eur. A double debt, yet one word ere ye go, 

Commmend me to my deare Ascanioi 220 

Whose loyall loue, and presence to foigoe. 

Doth gall me more then all my other woe. 
Orest. Our Hues shall neuer want to do him good. 
Phy, Nor yet our death, if he in daunger stood : 

And mistresse, so good fortune be your guide. 22$ 

Or, And ought that may be fortunate beside. 

Eu, The like I wish vnto your selues againe: 

And many happie dayes deuoyd of paine. 

And now Eurymine record thy state, 

So much delected, and opprest by fate: 230 

What hope remaines? wherein hast thou to ioy? 

Wherein to tryumph, but thine owne annoy? 

If euer wretch might tell of miserie. 

Then I alas, poore I, am only she: 


Vnknowne of parents, destitute of friends, 235 

Hopeful! of nought, but what misfortune sends. 

Banisht, to Hue a fiigitiue alone, 

In vncoth paths, and regions neuer knowne. 

Behold AscaniOy' ioT thy only sake. 

These tedious trauels I must vndertake: 240 

Nor do I grudge, the paine seemes lesse to mee, 

In that I suffer this distresse for thee. 

Enter Siluio^ a Raunger. 
SiL Wei met fair Nymph, or Goddesse if ye bee : 

Tis straunge me thinkes, that cme of your degree 

Should walk these solitary groues alone. 245 

Eu. It were no maruell if you knew my mone. 

But what are you that question me so far? 
SiL My habit telles you that, a Forrester: 

That hauing lost a heard of skittish Deere, 

Was of good hope, I should a found them heere. 250 

Eu, Trust me, I saw not any, so farewell. 
SU, Nay stay : and further of your fortunes tell : 

I am not one that meanes you any harme. 

Enter Gemulo the shepheard. 
Ge, I thinke my Boy be fled away by charme. 

Raunger well met: within thy walke I pray, 255 

Sawst thou not Mopso^ my vnhappie Boy? 
SU. Shepheard not I, what meanst to seeke him here? 
Ge. Because the wagge, possest with doubtfull feare. 

Least I would beate him for a fault he did: 

Amongst those Trees, I do suspect hees hid. 260 

But how now Raunger? you mistake I trowe. 

This is a Lady, and no barren Dowe. 
SiL It is indeede, and as it seemes, distrest, 

Whose griefe to know, I humbly made request: 

But she as yet will not reueale the same. 265 

Ge, Perhaps to me she will: speak gentle dame? 

What daunger great hath driuen ye to this place? 

Make knowne your state, and looke what slender grace, 

A Shepheards poore abilitie may yeeld. 

You shall be sure of, ere I leaue the feeld. 270 

Eur, Alas good Sir, the cause may not be knowne, 

That hath inforste me to be here alone. 
Sil, Nay feare not to discouer what you are: 

It may be we may remedie your care. 

356 Mopso] Moyso Q 



Eu. Since needs you will, that I renew my griefe, 275 

Whether it be my chance to finde reliefe 

Or not, I wreake not : such my crosses are, 

As sooner /expect to meete dispaire. 

Then thus it is: not farre from hence do dwell 

My parents, of the world esteemed well : 280 

Who with their bitter threats, my graut had won. 

This day to marrie with a neighbours son. 

And such a one, to whom I should be wife, 

As / could neuer fancie in my life. 

And therefore to auoyd that endlesse thrall, 285 

This mome I came away and left them all. 
SiL Now trust me virgin, they were much vnkind. 

To seeke to match you so against your minde. 
Ge, It was beside, vnnaturall constraint: 

But by the tenure of your iust complaint, 290 

It seemes you are not minded to retume. 

Nor any more to dwell where you were borne. 
Eu, It is my purpose, if I might obtaine 

A place of refuge where I might remaine. 
SiL Why go with me, my Lodge is not far off, 295 

Where you shall haue such hospitalitie 

As shall be for your health and safetie. 
Ge, Soft Raunger, you do raunge beyond your skill. 

My house is nearer: and for my good will, 

It shall exceed a woodmans woodden stufTe : 300 

Then go with me, He keep you safe enough. 
SiL He bring her to a bower beset with greene. 
Ge. And I an arbour, may delight a Queene* 
SiL Her dyet shalbe Venson at my boord. 

Ge. Yong Kid and Lambe, we shepheards can affoord. 305 

5/7. And nothing else? 
Ge. Yes, raunging now and then, 

A Hog, a Goose, a Capon, or a Hen. 
Sil, These walkes are mine, amongst the shadie trees. 
Ge, For that I haue, a garden full of Bees, 

Whose buzing musick with the flowers sweet, 310 

Each euen and morning, shall her sences greet. 
SiL The Nightingale is my continuall clocke. 
Ge, And mine the watchfull, sin-remembring cocke. 
SiL A hunts vp, I can tune her with my hounds. 
Ge, And I can shew her meads, and fruitfull grounds. 315 

SiL Within these woods are many pleasant springs. 
Ge* Betwixt yond dales, the Eccho daily sings. 


Si/. I maruell that a rusticke shepheard dare 

With woodmen thus a&daciously compare? 

Why, hunting is a pleasure for a King, 320 

And Gods themselues sometime frequent the thing. 

Diana with her bowe and arrowes keene, 

Did often vse the Chace, in Forrests greene. 

And so alas, the good Athenian knight. 

And swift Acteon herein tooke delight : 325 

And Atalanta the Arcadian dame, 

ConceiuV such wondrous pleasure in the game : 

That with her traine of Nymphs attending on, 

She came to hunt the Bore of Calydon, 
Ge, So did Apollo walk with shepheards crooke, 330 

And many Kings their scepters haue forsooke: 

To lead the quiet life we shepheards know 

Accounting it a refuge for their woe. 
5/7. But we take choice of many a pleasant walke 

And marke the Deare how they begin to stalke, 335 

When each according to his age and time, 

Pricks vp his head, and beares a Princely minde; 

The lustie Stag conductor of the traine, 

Leads all the heard in order downe the plaine; 

The baser rascalls scatter here and there, 340 

As not presuming to approach so neere. 
Ge. So shepheards sometime sit vpon a hill, 

Or in the cooling shadow of a mill : 

And as we sit, vnto our pipes we sing, 

And therewith make the neighboring groues to ring. 345 

And when the sun steales downward to the west, 

We leaue our chat, and whistle in the fist: 

Which is a signall to our stragling flocke, 

As Trumpets sound to men in martiall shocke. 
Sil. Shall I be thus out-faced by a swaine? 350 

He haue a guard to wayt vpon her traine. 

Of gallant woodmen, clad in comely greene : 

The like whereof, hath sildome yet bene seene, 
Ge, And I of shepheards such a lustie crew, 

As neuer Forrester the like yet knew: 355 

Who for their persons and their neate aray, ' 

Shalbe as fresh, as is the moneth of May, 

319 thus] then Q 333 know] I correct tooke. of the Q 336 BulUn 

queries kinde, but time is perhaps better sense^ and an assonance or annomination 
Xfike fist and west, /. 346) often satisfies the author instead of a rhyme 


Where are ye there, ye merry noted swaines? 

Draw neare a while, and whilst vpon the plaines 

Your flocks do gently feed, lets see your skill, 360 

How you with chaunting, can sad sorrow kill. 

Enter shepheards singing. 
Sil, Thinks Cemulo to beare the bell away? 
By singing of a simple Rundelay ? 
No, / haue fellowes, whose melodious throates 
Shall euen as far exceed those homely notes 365 

As doth the Nightingale in musicke passe. 
The most melodious bird that euer was. 
And for an instance, here they are at hand, 
When they haue done,^let our deserts be scand. 

Enter wood^^nen^ cmdsing. 
Eu. Thanks to you both, you both deserue so well, 370 

As I want skill your worthinesse to tell: 

And both I do commend for your good will, 

And both He honor, loue and reuerence still: 

For neuer virgin had such kindnes showne, 

Of straungers, yea, and men to her vnknowne. 375 

But more, to end this sudden controuersie. 

Since I am made an vmpier in the plea, 

This is my verdite : He intreate of you 

A Cottage for my dwelling : and of you, 

A flocke to tend: and so indifferent 380 

My gratefuU paines on either shalbe spent. 
Sil, I am agreed, and for the loue I beare 

He boast, I haue a Tenant is so faire. 
Ce, And I wil hold it as a rich possession. 

That she vouchsafes to be of my profession* 385 

Sil. Th6 for a sign that no man here hath wrong 

From hence lets all conduct her with a song. 

The end of the first Act, 


(Scene I.) 

Enter Ascamo, and loculo his Page. 
Asca. Away loculo, 
lo. Here sir, at hand. 
Asca, loadoy where is she ? 
lo. I know not 
. Asca, When went she ? 5 


lo. I know not 
Asca. Which way went she ? 
lo, I know not. 

Asca* Where should I seeke her ? 

lo, I know not. 10 

Asca, When shall I find her? 
lo. I know not. 

Asca, A vengeance take thee slaoe, what dost thou know ? 
lo. Marry sir, that I doo know. 

Asca, What villaine ? 15 

lo. And you be so testie, go looke : What a coyles here with you ? If 
we knew where she were, what need we seeke her ? I thinke you are 
lunaticke : where were you when you should haue lookt after her ? now 
you go crying vp and downe after your wench, like a Boy had lost his 
home booke. 30 

Asca, Ah my sweet Boy. 

lo. Ah my sweet Maister : nay I can giue you as good words as you 
can giue me : alls one for that. 
Asca, What canst thou giue me no reliefe ? 

lo. Faith sir, there comes not one morsel of comfort from my lips, to 35 
sustaine that hungry mawe of your miserie, there is such a dearth at this 
time, God amend it. 

Asca, A locuio, my breast is full of griefe, 
And yet my hope, that only wants reliefe. 
lo. Your brest and my belly, are in two contrary kaies, you walke to get 30 
stomacke to your meate, and I walke to get meate to my stomacke : your 
breast's full, and my belli's emptie. If they chance to part in this case, God 
send them merry meeting : that my belly be ful, and your brest empty, 
Asca, Boy, for the loue that euer thou didst owe, 

To thy deare master, poore Ascanio^ 35 

Racke thy proou'd wits, vnto the highest straine. 
To bring me backe Eurymine againe. 
lo. Nay master, if wit could do it, I could tell you more : but if it euer 
be done, the very legeritie of the feete must do it : these ten nimble bones 
must do the deed : He trot like a little dog : theres not a bush so big as 40 
my beard, but He be peeping in it : theres not a Coate but He search 
euery comer : if she be aboue, or beneath, ouer the ground, or vnder, 
He finde her out. 

Asca, Stay loculo*, alas it cannot be: 

If we should part, I loose both her and thee : 45 

The woods are wide: and wandring thus about. 
Thou maist be lost: and not my Loue found out. 

16-63 Alljoculo's spuchts within these limits as verse in Q 



lo. I pray you let me goe. 

Asca, I pray thee stay. 

lo, Ifaith lie runne. 

Asca. And doest not know which way. 

lo. Any way: alls one, ile drawe drie foote: if you send not to seeke 5® 

her, you may lye here long enough, before she come to seeke you : she 

litle thinkes that you are hunting for her in these quarters. 

Asca. Ah loculOf before I leaue my Boy, 

Of this worlds comfort, now my only ioy: 

Seest thou this place? vpon this grassie bed, ^5 

With sommers gawdie dyaper bespred. 

He lyes downe, 

Vnder these shadowes shall my dwelling be: 

Till thou retume, sweete loculo to me. 

lOn And if my Conuoy be not cut off by the way, it shall not be long 

before I be with you. rr ^ j- . ^t jt ^, 

' He speakes to the people. 60 

Well, I pray you looke to my maister : for here / leaue him amongst you : 

and if / chaunce to light on the wench, you shall heare of me by the 

next winde. ^ •- r / ># • / 

Exit loculo^ Ascamo solus, 

Asccu In vaine I feare, I beate my braines about, 

Proouing by search, to finde my mistresse out: 65 

Eurymifu^ Eurymine^ retome: 

And with thy presence guild the beautious mome: 

And yet I feare to call vpon thy name. 

The prattling Eccho, should she leame the same. 

The last words accent sheele no more prolong, ^ 

But beare that sound vpon her airie tong. 

Adorned with the presence of my Loue, 

The woods I feare, such secret power shal proue 

As they'll shut vp each path: hide euery way, 

Because they still would haue her go astray: ^^ 

And in that place would alwaies haue her seene. 

Only because they would be euer greene: 

And keepe the wingged Quiristers still there, 

To banish winter deane out of the yeare. 

But why persbt I to bemone my state, 30 

When she is gone, and my complaint too late? 

A drowsie dulnes closeth vp my sight, 

O powerfull sleepe, I yeeld vnto thy might. 

He/alles a sleepe. 

Enter luno^ and Iris. 
Juno. Come hither Iris. 
Iris. Iris is at hand^ 


To attend Jaues wife: great Iunos\ivt command. 35 

Juno, Iris I know I do thy seruice proue, 

And euer since I was the wife of loue 

Thou hast bene readie when I called still, 

And alwayes most obedient to my will: 

Thou seest how that imperiall Queene of loue, 90 

With all the Gods, how she preuailes aboue, 

And still against great lunos bests doth stand. 

To haue all stoupe and bowe, at her command: 

Her Doues and Swannes^ and Sparrowes, must be graced. 

And on loues Aultars, must be highly placed. 95 

My starry Peacocks, which doth beare my state: 

Scaresly alowed within his pallace gate: 

And since her selfe, she thus preferd doth see, 

Now the proud huswife will contend with mee: 

And practiseth her wanton pranckes to play xoo 

With this AscantOy and Eurymine, 

But Loue shall know, in spight of all his skill, 

lunds a woman, and will haue her will. 
Iris. What is my Goddesse will? may Iris aske? 
luno. IriSj on thee / do impose this taske, 105 

To crosse proud Venus, and her purblind Lad, 

Vntill the mother, and her brat be mad. 

And with each other, set them so at ods, 

Till to their teeth they curse, and ban the Gods, 
Iris, Goddes, the graunt consists alone in you, 1 10 

luno. Then mark the course which now you must pursue. 

Within this ore-growne Forrest, there is found 

A duskie Caue, thrust lowe into the ground : 

So vgly darke, so dampie and (so) steepe. 

As for his life the sunne durst neuer peepe 115 

/nto the entrance: which doth so afiright 

The very day, that halfe the world is night. 

Where fennish fogges, and vapours do abound: 

There Morpheus' ^o'Ca. dwell within the ground, 

Ko crowing Cocke, nor waking bell doth call, 120 

Nor watchfuU dogge disturbeth sleepe at all. 

No sound is heard in compasse of the hill, 

But euery thing is quiet, whisht, and still. 

Amid this Caue, vpon the ground doth lie, 

A hollow plancher, all of Ebonie 125 

Couer'd with blacke, whereon the drowsie God, 

Drowned in sleepe, continually doth nod: 

95 loues required by context : Loues Qbya common mistetke 

Aa 2 


Go Iris go, and my commaundment take. 
And beate against the doores till sleepe awake, 
Bid him from me, in vision to appeare, 130 

Vnto Ascanio that lieth slumbring heare. 
And in that vision, to reueale the way. 
How he may finde the faire Eurymine, 
Iris, Madam, my seruice is at your conmiandy 

luno. Dispatch it then, good Iris out of hand. 135 

My Peacocks and my Charriot shall remaine, 
About the shore, till thou retume againe. Exit luno. 

Iris, About the businesse now that / am sent. 
To sleepes blacke Caue, / will incontinent : 

And his darke cabine, boldly will / shake, 140 

Vntill the drowsie lumpish God awake: 
And such a bounsing at his Caue lie keepe, 
That if pale death, seaz'd on the eyes of sleepe, 
He rowse him vp, that when he shall me heare. 
He make his locks stand vp on end with feare. 145 

Be silent aire, whil'st Iris in her pride 
Swifter then thought, vpon the windes doth ride. 
What SomnuSf what Somnus^ Somnus, Strikes, 

Pauses a litle. 
What wilt thou not awake? art thou still so £ut? 
Nay then yfaith. He haue an other cast. 150 

What SomsHis Somnus / say ? 
Strikes againe, 
Som, Who calles at this time of the day ? 
What a balling dost thou keepe? 
A vengeance take thee, let me sleq>e. 
Iris, Vp thou drowsie God, / say, 155 

And come presently away, 
Or / will beate vpon this doore. 
That after this, thou sleep'st no more. 
Sam, /le take a nap, and come annon. 
Iris, Out you beast, you blocke, you stone: 160 

Come, or at thy doore /le thunder. 
Til both heauen and hel do wonder, 
Somnus f I say! 
Som, A vengeance split thy chaps asunder. 164 

Iris, What Somnus ? Enter Somnus, 

Som, Iris I thought it should be thee. 
How now mad wench, what wouldst with me? 
Iris. From mightie luno, loues immortal wife, 
Somnus I come: to charge thee on thy life, 


That thou vnto this Gentleman appeere, 170 

And in this place, thus as he lyeth heerei 

Present his mistres to his inward eies» 

In as true manner, as thou canst deuise. 
Som. I would thou wert hangd for waking me. 

Three sonnes I haue, the eldest Morpheus bighte: 175 

He shewes of man, the shape or sight* 

The second Icelor^ whose beheasts 

Doth shewe the formes of birds and beasts, 

Phantasor for the third, things lifeles hee: 

Chuse which like thee of these three. 180 

\ris, Morpheus : if he in humane shape appeare* 
S^///. Morpheus come forth in perfect likenes beeroi 

Of, how call ye the Gentlewoman? 

\ris. Eurytnime. 

Som. Of Eurymine : and shewe this Gentlemani 

What of his mistres is become. 185 

Kneeling downe by Ascanio. 

Enter Eurymine ^ to be supposed Morpheus. 

Mor, My deare AscaniOy in this vision see, 

Eurymine doth thus appeare to thee: 

As soone as sleepe hath left thy drowsie eies. 

Follow the path that on thy right hand lies. 

An aged Hermit thou by chaunce shalt find, 190 

That there hath bene, time almost out of mind: 

This holy man, this aged reuerent Father, 

There in the woods, doth rootes and simples gather: 

His wrinckled browe, tells strengths past long ago: 

His beard as white, as winters driuen snow. X95 

He shall discourse the troubles I haue past, 

And bring vs both togither at the last. 

Thus she presents her shadow to thy sight. 

That would her person gladly if she might. 
Iris. See how he catches to imbrace the shade. 200 

Mor, This vision fully doth his powers inuade. 

And when the heate shall but a litle slake: 

Thou then shalt see him presently awake. 
Som, Hast thou ought else» that I may stand in sted? 
Iris, No SomnuSy no: go back vnto thy bed: 205 

\uno she shall reward thee for thy paine. 
Som, Then good night, Im, He to rest againe. 
Iris, Morpheus farwell: to luno I will flie. 
Mor, And / to sleepe, a$ fast as / can hie. Exeunt. 


Ascanio starting^ sayes, 
Euryminei Ah my good Angell stay: 210 

O vanish not so suddenly away. 
O stay my Goddes, whither doest thou flie? 
Returae my sweet Eurymine, tis /. 
Where art thoii speake? Let me behold thy face: 
Did / not see thee, in this very place 315 

Euen now ? Here did / not see thee stand ? 
And here thy feete did blesse the happie land? 
Euryminei Oh wilt thou not attend? 
Flie from thy foe: Ascanio is thy friend. 

The fearful! Hare, so shuns the labouring hound, 220 

And so the Dear eschues the Hunts-man wound. 
The trembling Foule, so flies the Falcons gripe: 
The Bond-man, so, his angry maisters stripe. 
/ follow not, as Phabus Daphne did : 

Nor as the Dog pursues the trembling Kid. 225 

Thy shape it was : alas / sawe not diee : 
That sight were fitter for the Gods then mee. 
But if in dreames, there any truth be found. 
Thou art within the compas of this ground. 

Tie raunge the woods, and all the groues about, 230 

And neuer rest, vntill / find thee out. ExiL 

<SC£NE n.) 

Enter at one doore^ Mopso singing. 

Mop. Terlitelo, Terlitelo, terlitelee, terlo, 
So merrily this shepheards Boy 
His home that he can blow. 
Early in a morning, late, late, in an euening, 
And euer sat this little Boy, 5 

So merrily piping. 

Enter at the other doore^ Frisco singing. 

Fris, Can you blow the little home? 
Weell, weell, and very weell. 
And can you blow the little home. 
Amongst the leaues greene? 10 

Enter Joculo in the midst singing. 

lo. Fortune my foe, why doest thou frowne on mee? 
And will my fortune neuer better bee: 
Wilt thou I say, for euer breed my paine? 
And wilt thou not xestore my loyes againe? 


Frisco, Cannot a man be merry in his owne walke, but a must be 15 
thus encombred ? 

lo. I am disposed to be melanchoUy, and I cannot be priuate, for one 
villaine or other. 

Mop. How the diuel stumbled this case of rope-ripes in- into my way ? 

Fris. Sirrha, what art thou ? and thou ? ao 

lo, I am Page to a Courtier. 

Mop, And I a Boy to a Shepheard. 

Fris, Thou art the Apple-squier to an Eawe, and thou swome brother 
to a bale of false dice. 

lo. What art thou ? 25 

Fris. I am a Boy to a Raunger. 

lo. An Out-Iawe by authoritie : one that neuer sets marke of his own 
goods, nor neuer knowes how he comes by other mens. 

Mop, That neuer knowes his cattell, but by their homes. 

Fris, Sirrha, so you might haue said of your masters sheep. 30 

lo, I marry : this takes fier like touch powder, and goes off with 
a huffe. 

Fris, They come of crick-cracks, send shake their tayles like a squib. 

lo. Ha you Rogues, the very Steele of my wit, shall strike fier from 
the flint of your vnderstandings : haue you not heard of me ? 35 

Mop, Yes, if you be that loculo that I take you for, we haue heard of 
your exployts, for cosoning of some seuen, and thirtie Alewiues, in the 
Villages here about. 

lo, A wit, as nimble as a Sempsters needle, or a girles finger at her 
Buske poynt 40 

Mop, Your iest goes too low sir. 

Fris, O but tis a tickling iest. 

lo. Who wold haue thought to haue found this in a plaine villaine, 
that neuer woare better garment, then a green lerkin ? 

Frisco, O Sir, though you Courtiers haue all the honour, you haue 45 
not all the wit. 

Mop. Soft sir, tis not your witte can carry it away in this company. 

lo. Sweet Rogues, your companie to me, is like musick to a wench at 
midnight : when she lies alone, and could wish, yea marry could she. 

Fris, And thou art as welcom to me, as a new poking stick to 50 
a Chamber mayd. 

Mcp. But soft, who comes here ? 

Enter the Faieries^ singing and dauncing. 

By the Moone we sport and play, 

With the night begins our day: 

As we daunce the deaw doth fall, 55 

Trip it little vrchins all: 


Lightly as the little Bee, 

Two by two, and three by three: 

And about go we, and about go wee. 
lo. What Mawmets are these ? 60 

Fris. O they be the Fayries that haunt these woods. 
Mop, O we shall be pincht most cruelly. 

1 Fay, Will you haue any musick Sir ? 

2 Fay, Will you haue any fine musicke ? 

3 Fay. Most daintie musicke ? ^5 
Mop, We must set a face on't now, theres no flying. No Sir : we are 

very merry I thanke you. 

1 Fay. O but you shall Sir. 

Fris, No, I pray you saue your labour. 

2 Fay, O Sir, it shall not cost you a penny. 7^ 
lo. Where be your Fiddles ? 

3 Fay. You shall haue most daintie Instruments Sir. 
Mop, I pray you, what might I call you ? 

1 Fay. My name is Penny, 

Mop, I am sory I cannot purse you. 75 

Fris. I pray you sir, what might I call you ? 

2 Fay, My name is Cricket, 

Fris, I would I were a Chinmey for your sake. 

lo. I pray you, yoa prettie litle fellow, what's your name ? 

3 Fay, My name is litttle, little Pricke, 80 
lo. Little, little Pricke ? 6 you are a daungerous Fayrie, and fright all 

the little wenches in the Country, out of their beds. I care not whose 
hand I were in, so 1 were out of yours. 

1 Fay. I do come about the coppes, 

Leaping vpon flowers toppes: 85 

Then I get vpon a flie, 

Shee carries me aboue the skie: 

And trip and goe. 

2 Fc^. When a deawe drop falleth downe. 

And doth light vpon my crowne, 5^ 

Then I shake my head and skip: 

And about I trip. 
'^Fay. When I feele a gyrle a sleepe, 

Vndemeath her frock I peepe. 

There to sport, and there I play, 95 

Then / byte her like a flea : 

And about / skip. 
lo. I, I thought where I should haue you. 
I Fay. Wilt please you daunce sir? 
lo. Indeed sir, I cannot handle my legges. 100 


2 Fay, O you must needs daunce and sing : 
Which if you refuse to doo» 
We will pinch you blacke and blew. 
And about we goe. 
They all daunce in a Ring^ and sing as follaweth. 
Round about, round about, in a fine Ring a : 105 

Thus we daunce, thus we daunce, and thus we sing a. 
Trip and go, too and fro, ouer this Greene a: 
All about, in and out, for our braue Queene a. 

Round about, round about, in a fine Ring a: 

Thus we daunce, thus we daunce, and thus we sing a. no 

Trip and go, too and fro, ouer this Greene a: 

All about, in and out, for oiur braue Queene a. 

We haue daunc't round about, in a fine Ring a: 

We haue daunc't lustily, and thus we sing a: 

All about, in and out, ouer this Greene a: 115 

Too and fro, trip and go, to our braue Queene a« 


Scena I. 

Enter AppoUo, and three Charites, 

I Cha. No no great PhoebuSy this your silence tends. 

To hide your griefe from knowledge of your friends, 

Who if they knew the cause in each respect, 

Would shewe their vtmost skill to cure th'efiect. 
Ap, Good Ladyes, your conceites in iudgement erre, 5 

Because you see me dumpish, you referre 

The reason to some secret griefe of mine : 

But you haue seene me melancholy many a time. 

Perhaps it is the glowing weather now. 

That makes me seeme so ill at ease to you. 10 

1. Fine shifts to colour what you cannot hide, 
No Phcebusj by your lookes may be discride 
Some hid conceit, that harbors in your thought, 
Which hath therein, some straunge impression wrought: 

That by the course thereof^ you seeme to mee, 15 

An other man then you were wont to bee. 
Ap, No Ladies, you deceiue your selues in mee: 
What likelihood or token do ye see, 
That may perswade it true that you suppose? 

2. Appollo, hence a great suspition growes, 20 


Ye are not so pleasaunt noW| as earst in companie, 
Ye walke alone, and wander solitarie. 
The pleasaunt toyes we did frequent sometime. 
Are wome away, and growne out of prime. 

Your Instrument hath lost his siluer sound, 25 

That rang of late, through all this grouie ground. 
Your bowe wherwith the chace you did frequent, 
Is closde in case, and long hath bene vnbent. 
How differ you from that Appollo now, 

That whilom sat in shade of Lawrell bowe, 30 

And with the warbling of your luorie Lute, 
T'alure the Fairies for to daunce about. 
Or from Th^appolh that with bended bowe, 
Did many a sharp and wounding shaft bestowe. 
Amidst the Dragon Pithons scalie wings, 35 

And fordt his dying blood to spout in springs. 
Beleeue me Phebus, who sawe you then and now, 
Would thinke there were a wondrous change in you. 
Ap, Alas faire dames, to make my sorows plain. 

Would but reuiue an auncient wound again. 40 

Which grating presently vpon my minde. 

Doth leaue a scar of former woes behinde. 
3. Phcebusy if you account vs for the same. 

That tender thee, and loue AppoUos name, 

Powre forth to vs the fountaine of your woe, 45 

Fro whence the spring of these your sorows flowe ? 

If we may any way redresse your mone, 

Commaund our best, harme will we do you none. 
Ap, Good Ladies, though I hope for no reliefe, 

He shewe the ground of this my present griefe. 50 

This time of yeare, or there about it was, 

Accursed be the time, tenne times alas: 

When I from Delphos tooke my ioumey downe. 

To see the games in noble Sparta Towne, 

There saw I that, wherein I gan to ioy, 55 

Amycla^ sonne a gallant comely boy, 

Hight (HiacintK) full fifteene yeares of age. 

Whom I intended to haue made my Page, 

And bare as great affection to the boy. 

As euer loue^ in Ganimede did ioy. 60 

Among the games^ my selfe put in a pledge, 

To trie my strength in throwing of the sledge, 

56 Q misprints Amilchart 


Which poysing with my strained arme I threw 

So faire, that it beyond the other flew. 

My Hiacinth^ delighting in the game, 65 

Desierd to proue his manhood in the same: 

And catching ere the sledge lay still on ground. 

With violent force, aloft it did rebound 

Against his head, and battered out his braine: 

And so alas, my lonely boy was slaine. 70 

I. Hard hap O Phoebus , but sieth it's past & gone. 

We wish ye to forbeare this frustrate mone. 
Ap, Ladies, I know my sorrowes are in vaine, 

And yet from mourning can I not refraine. 

1. Eurania some pleasant Song shall sing. 75 
To put ye from your dumps. 

Ap. Alas, no Song will bring 

The least reliefe to my perplexed minde. 

2. No Phoebus} what other pastime shal we finde, 
To make ye merry with? 

Ap, Faire dames I thanke you all, 

No sport nor pastime can release my thrall : 80 

My griePs of course, when it the course hath had, 
I shall be merrie, and no longer sad. 

1. What will ye then we doo? 

Ap. And please ye, you may goe, 

And leaue me here to feed vpon my woe. 

2. Then Phebus^ we can but wish ye wel again. 85 

Exeunt Charites. 
Ap, I thanke ye gentle Ladies for your paine. 
O Phoebus wretched thou thus art thou faine 
With forg'de excuses, to conceale thy paine. 
O Hyacinth, I suffer not these fits 

For thee my Boy, no, no, another sits 90 

Deeper then thou, in closet of my brest: 
Whose sight so late, hath wrought me this vnrest. 
And yet no Goddesse, nor of heauenly kinde 
She is, whose beautie thus torments my minde. 
No Fayrie Nymph, that haunts these pleasaunt woods, 95 

No Goddesse of the flowres, the fields, nor floods : 
Yet such an one, whom iustly I may call 
A Nymph, as well as any of them alL 
Eurymine, what heauen affoords thee heere? 

So may I say, because thou com'st so neere? loo 

And neerer far vnto a heauenly shape, 
Then she of whom loue triumph't in the Rape. 


He sit me downe, and wake my griefe againe. 
To sing a while, in honour of thy name. 

The Song. 

Amidst the mountaine Ida grouet, 105 

Where Paris kept his Heard: 

Before the other Ladies all, 

He would haue thee preferd. 

Pallas for all her painting than, 

Her face would seeme but pale: no 

Then luno would haue blusht for shame, 

And Venus looked stale. 

Eurymine thy selfe alone, 

Shouldst beare the golden ball: 

So £ar would thy most heauenly forme, 115 

Excell the other all. 

O happie PMabuSy happie then, 

Most happie should I bee: 

If iaire Euryndne would please, 

To ioyne in loue with mee. 120 

Enter Eurymine. 

Eu, Although there be such difference in the chaunge, 

To Hue in Court, and desart woods to raunge, 

Yet in extremes, wherein we cannot chuse, 

An extreame refuge is not to refuse: 

Good gentlemen, did any see my heard? 125 

I shall not finde them out, I am afeard: 

And yet my maister wayteth with his bowei 

Within a standing, for to stdke a Doe. 

You saw them not? Your silence makes me doubt: 

I must goe further, till I finde them out. 130 

Af. What seek you prettie Mayde? 

Eu, Forsooth my heard of Deere. 

Ap. I sawe them lately, but they are not heere. 
Eu. I pray Sir, where? 
Ap. An houre agoe or twaine, 

I sawe them fiseding all aboue the plaine. 
Eu. So much the more my toile to fetch them in. 135 

I thanke ye Sir. 
Ap. Nay stay sweet Nymph with mee. 

Eu, My busines, cannot so dispatched bee. 
Ap, But praye ye Maide, it will be verie good, 

To take the shade, in this vnhaunted wood: 


This flowring bay with branches laige and greati 140 

Will shrowd ye safely, from the parching heat. 
Eu, Good sir, my busines calls me hence in hast. 
Ap. O stay with him, who conquered thou hast 

With him, whose restles thoughts do beat on thee: 

With him that ioyes, thy wished face to see. 145 

With him whose ioyes surmount all ioyes aboue : 

If thou wouldst thinke him worthie of thy loue. 
Eu, Why Sir, would you desire another make? 

And weare that garland for your Mistres sake ? 
Ap. No Nymph, although I loue this lawrel tree, 150 

My fancy ten times more affecteth thee: 

And as the bay is alwaies fresh and greene. 

So shall my loue as fresh to thee be seene. 
Eu. Now truly Sir, you offer: roe great wrong, 

To hold me from my busines here so long. 155 

Ap. O stay sweet Nymph, with more aduisement view^ 

What one he is, that for thy grace doth sue: 

I am not one that haunts on hills or Rocks, 

I am no shepheard wayting on my flocks. 

I am no boystrous Satyre, no nor Faune, 160 

That am with pleasure of thy beautie drawne. 

Thou dost not know God wot, thou dost not kno, 

The wight, whose presence thou disdainest so. 
Eu. But I may know, if you wold please to tell. 
Ap. My father in the highest heauens doth dwel : 165 

And I am knowne the sonne of I(n4e to bee, 

Whereon the folke of Delphos honor mee. 

By me is knowne what is, what was, and what shall bee. 

By me are leamde the Rules of harmonie* 

By me the depth of Phisicks lore is found : 170 

And power of hearbes that grow vpon the ground. 

And thus by circumstances maist thou see. 

That I am Phcebus, who doth fancie thee. 
Eu. No sir, by these discourses may I see, 

You mock me with a forged pedegree. I75 

If sonne you be to loue, as erst ye said. 

In making loue vnto a mortall maide. 

You worke dishonour to your deitie : 

I must be gone : I thanke ye for yoiu: curtesie 
Ap. Alas, abandon not thy Louer so. 180 

Eu. I pray sir hartily, giue me leaue to goe. 
Ap. The way ore-growne, with shrubs and bushes thick, 

The sharpned thomes, your tender feete will prick. 


The brambles round about, your traine will lappe. 

The burs and briers, about your skirts will wrappe. 185 

Eu, If Phosbus, thou of loue the ofspring be. 

Dishonor not thy deitie so much, 

With profered force, a silly mayd to touch: 

For doing so, although a god thou bee. 

The earth, and men on earth, shall ring thy infamie. 190 

Ap, Hard speech to him that loueth thee so well. 
Eu. What know I that? 
Ap. I know it, and can tell: 

And feele it too. 
Eu, If that your loue be such, 

As you pretend, so feruent and so much, 

For proofe thereof graunt me but one request. 195 

Ap. I will, by laue my father, I protest: 

Frouided first, that thy petition bee. 

Not hurtfull to thy selfe, nor harme to mee. 

For so sometimes did Phaeton my sonne. 

Request a thing, whereby he was vndonne. 200 

He lost his life through craning it, and I 

Through graunting it, lost him my sonne thereby. 
Eu. Then Phcsbus thus it is, if thou be hee, 

That art pretended in thy pedegree, 

If sonne thou be to loue as thou doest faine, 205 

And chalengest that tytle not in vaine: 

Now heer bewray some signe of godhead than ? 

And chaunge me straight, from shape of mayd to man ? 
Ap. Alas, what fond desire doth moue thy minde 

To wish thee altered from thy natiue kinde? 210 

If thou in this thy womans forme canst moue. 

Not men but gods, to sue and seeke thy loue: 

Content thy selfe with natures bountie than. 

And couet not to beare the shape of man. 

And this moreouer will I say to thee, 215 

Fairer man then mayde, thou shalt neuer bee. 
Eu, These vaine excuses, manifestly showe, 

Whether you vsurp Appollos name or no. 

Sith my demaund so far surmounts your Art, 

Ye ioyne exceptions, on the other part. 220 

Ap. Nay then my doubtles Deitie to proue, 

Although thereby for euer I loose my Loue, 

I graunt thy wish, thou art become a man : 

I speake no more, then well performe I can. 

And though thou walke in chaunged bodie now, 225 


This pennance shall be added to thy vow: 

Thy selfe a man, shalt loue a man, in vaine : 

And louingj wish to be a maide againe. 
Eu, Appollo^ whether I loue a man or not, 

I thanke ye, now I will accept my lot : 230 

And sith my chaunge hath disappointed you. 

Ye are at libertie to loue anew. Exit. 

Ap. If euer I loue, sith now I am forsaken, 

Where next I loue, it shall be better taken: 

But what so ere my fate in louing bee, 235 

Yet thou maist vaunt, that Phcsbus loued thee. Exit Appollo. 

<SCEN£ 11.) 

Enter loculo^ Frisco, and Afopso, at three 

seuercdl doores. 

Mop. loculoy whither iettest thou? hast thou found thy Maister? 

lo, Mopso wel met, hast thou found thy mistresse ? 

Mop. Not I by Pan. 

lo. Nor I by Pot. 

Mop. Pot? what god's that? 5 

lo. The next god to a Pan, and such a pot it may be. 
That as he shall haue moe seruants then all the Pannes in a Tinkers shop. 

Mop. Frisco^ where hast thou bene frisking? hast thou found? 

Fris. I haue found. 

lo. What hast thou found Friscol 10 

Fris. A couple of crack-roapes, 

lo. And I. 

Mop. And I. 

Fris. I meane you two. 

Jo. I you two. ij 

Mop. And I you two. 

Fris. Come, a trebble coniunction : all three, all three. 

They all embrace each other. 

Mop. But Frisco^ hast not found the faire shepheardesse, thy Maisters 
Mistresse ? 

Fris. Not I by God, Priapus I meane. 20 

Jo. Priapus quoch a ? Whattin a God might that bee ? 

Fris. A plaine God, with a good peg to hang a shepheardresse bottle 

Jo. Thou being a Forresters Boy, shouldst sweare by the God of the 
woods. 25 

Fris. My Maister sweares by Siluanus, I must sweare by his poore 


lo. And beer's a shepheards swaine, sweares by a Kitcben God, Pan, 

Mop, ParCs tbe sbepbeardes God, but tbou swearest by Pot, what 
God's that? 30 

lo. The God of good-fellowship: well, you haue wicked Maisters, 
that teach such little Boyes as you are to sweare so young. 

Fris. Alas good old great man, wil not your master swear ? 

lo, I neuer heard him sweare six sound oaths in all my life. 

Mop, May hap he cannot, because bees diseasd. 35 

Fris, Peace Mopso^ I -will stand toot, hee's neither braue Courtier, 
bouncing Caualier, nor boone Companion, if he sweare not sometime : 
for they will sweare, forsweare, and sweare. 

lo. How ? sweare, forsweare, and sweare ? how is that ? 

Fris, They*le sweare at dyce, forsweare their debts : and sweare 4® 
when they loose their labour in loue. 

lo. Well, your maisters haue much to answere for, that bring ye vp 
so wickedly. 

Fris. Nay my maister is damn'd He be swome, for his very soule 
bumes in the firie eye of his faire mistresse. 45 

Mop, My maister is not damn'd, but he is dead, for he hath buried 
his ioyes in the bosome of his faire mistresse. 

lo. My maister is neither damnde nor dead, and yet is in the case 
of both your maisters: like a woodden shepheard, and a sheepish 
wood-man, for he is lost in seeking of a lost sheepe, and spent in h^ 
hunting a Doe that hee would faine strike. 

Fris, Faith and I am founderd with a flinging too and fro, with 
Ches-nuts, Hazel-nuts, Bullaze, and wildings, for presents from my 
maister to the faire shepherdesse. 

Mop, And I am tierd like a Calfe, with carrying a Kidde euery weeke 55 
to the Cottage of my maisters sweete Lambkin. 

lo, I am not tierd, but so wearie I cannot goe, with following a maister, 
that followes his mistresse, that followes her shadow, that followes the 
sunne, that followes his course. 

Fris, That follows the colt, that followed the mare, the man rode on 60 
to Midleton : shall I speake a wise word ? 

Mop, Do and wee will bume our caps. 

Fris, Are not we fooles ? 

lo. Is that a wise word ? 

Fris. Giue me leaue : are not we fooles to weare our yong feete to old 65 
stumps, when there dwells a cunning man in a Caue hereby, who for 
a bunch of rootes, a bagge of nuts, or a bushell of crabs, will tell vs, where 
thou shalt finde thy maister, and which of our maisters shall win the 
wenches fauour? 

36 Bullen corrects to too't] THE MAYDES METAMORPHOSIS 369 

lo. Bring me to him Frisco^ lie giue him all the poynts at my hose, 70 
to poynt me right to my maister. 

Mop, A bottle of whey shall be his meed, if he saue me labour for 
posting with presents. 

Enter Aramanthus, with his Glohe^ 6f*c, 

Fris, Here he comes, offend him not Icculo^ for feare he tume thee 
to a lacke an Apes. 75 

Mop. And thee to an Owle. 

lo. And thee to a Wood-cocke. 

Fris, A Wood-cocke, an Owle, and an Ape ? 

Mop, A long bill, a broade face, and no tayle ? 

lo, Kisse it Mopso, and be quiet, He salute him ciuilly. Good speed 80 
good man. 

Aram, Welcome bad boy. 

Fris, He speakes to thee loculo, 

lo. Meaning thee Frisco, 
Aram, I speake, and meane not him, nor him, nor thee, ^ 

But speaking so, I speake and meane, all three. 

lo. If ye be good at Rimes and Riddles old man, expound me this. 
These two seme two, those two serue one, 
Assoyle me this, and I am gone. 
Aram, You three serue three : those three do seeke to one, 9° 

One shall her finde, he comes, and she is gone. 

lo. This is a wise answer : her going causd his comming, for if she 
had nere gone, he had nere come. 

Mop, Good maister wizard, leaue these murlemewes, and tel Mopso 
plainly, whether Gemulo my maister, that gentle shepheard, shall win 95 
the loue of the faire shepherdesse his flock-keeper or not, and lie giue ye 
a bottell of as good whey, as ere ye laid lips too. 

Fris, And good father Fortune-teller, let Frisco knowe, whither Siluio 
my maister that lustie Forrester, shal gaine that same gay shepherdesse 
or no ? He promise ye nothing for your paines, but a bag full of nuts : if '^^ 
/ bring a crab or two in my pocket, take them for aduantage. 

lo. And gentle maister wise-man, tell loculo^ if his noble Maister 
Ascanio^ that gallant Courtier, shalbe found by me, and she found by 
him, for whom, he hath lost his fathers fauour, and his owne libertie, and 
I my labour, and He giue ye thankes : for we Courtiers, neither giue nor 105 
take bribes. 

Aram, I take your meaning better then your speech. 
And I will graunt the thing you doo beseech: 
But for the teares of Louers be no toyes. 
He tell their chaunce in parables to Boyes. no 

74-5» 92-3. ^ verscy Q 


370 THE MAYDES METAMORPHOSIS [act in, sc ii 

Frts, In what ye will, lets heare our maisters luck« 
Aram. Thy maisters Doe, shall tume vnto a Buck. 

To Mofiso, 

Thy maisters Eawe, be chaunged to a Ram, 

To loculo. 

Thy maister seeks a maide, and findes a man. 

Yet for his labor shall he gaine his meede, 115 

The other two shall sigh, to see him speede. 
Mop, Then my maister shall not win the shepheardesse ? 
Aram. No: hast thee home, and bid him right his wrong, 

The shepheardesse wil leaue his flock ere long. 
Mof. He run to wame my master of that. Exit. 120 

Fris. My maister wood-man, takes but woodden paines to no purpose 
I thinke, what say ye, shall he speede ? 
Aram. No : tell him so, and bid him tend his Deare : 

And cease to woe, he shall not wed this yeare. 
Fris. I am not sorie for it, farewell loculo. Exit. 125 

lo. I may goe with thee, for I shall speed euen so too, by staying be- 
Aram. Better my Boy, thou shalt thy maister finde, 

And he shall finde the partie he requires: 

And yet not finde the summe of his desires. 130 

Keep on that way, thy maister walkes before, 

Whom when thou find'st, loose him good Boy no more. 

Exit ambo. 

ACT. 4. 


Enter Ascanio^ and loculo. 

Asca. Shall then my trauell euer endles proue? 

That I can heare no tydings of my Loue ? 

In neither desart, groue, nor shadie wood. 

Nor obscure thicket, where my foote hath trod? 

But euery plough-man, and rude shepheard swain, 5 

Doth still reply vnto my greater paine? 

Some Satyre then, or Goddesse of this place, 

Some water Nymph, vouchsafe me so much grace 

As by some view, some signe, or other sho, 

I may haue knowledge if she Hue or no. lo 

Eccho. No. 
Asca. Then my poore hart is buried too in wo : 

Record it once more, if the truth be so ? 
Eccho, So. 


Asca, How, that Eurymine is dead, or liues? 15 

Eccho, Liues. 

Asca. Now gentle Goddesse thou redeem'st my soule 

From death to life: Oh tell me quickly where? 
Eccho, Where? 

Asca, In some remote far region, or else neere? 20 

Eccho, Neere. 
Asca, Oh what conceales her from my thirstie eies? 

Is it restraint ? or some vnknowne disguise ? 
Eccho, Disguise. 

lo. Let me be hangd my Lord, but all is lyes. 25 

Eccho, Lyes. 

lo. True, we are both perswaded thou doest lye. 
Eccho, Thou doest lye. 
lo. Who I ? 

Eccho, Who I? 30 

lo, I thou. 
Eccho, I thou. 

lo. Thou dar'st not come and say so to my face. 
Eccho, Thy face. 

Jo, He make you then for euer prating more. 35 

Eccho, More. 

lo. Will ye prate more? He see that presently, 
Ascha. Stay loculo^ it is the Eccho Boy, 

That mocks our griefe, and laughes at our annoy. 

Hard by this groue there is a goodly plaine 40 

Betwixt two hils, still fresh with drops of raine : 

Where neuer spreading Oake nor Poplar grew. 

Might hinder the prospect or other view, 

But all the country that about it lyes, 

Presents it selfe vnto our mortall eyes: 45 

Saue that vpon each hill, by leauie trees, 

The Sun at highest, his scorching heat may leese. 

There languishing my selfe I will betake. 

As heauen shall please, and only for her sake. 

lo. Stay maister, I haue spied the fellow now, that mockt vs all this 
while : see where he sits. 51 

Aramanthus sitting, 

Asca, The very shape my Vision told me off. 

That I should meet with as I strayd this way. 
Jo, What lynes he drawes? best go not ouer farre. 
Asca, Let me alone, thou doest but trouble mee. 55 

Jo, Youle trouble vs all annon, ye shall see. 

Bb 2 


Asca, God speed faire Sir. 

lo. My Lord doo ye not marke? 

How the skie thickens, and begins to darke? 
Asca. Health to ye Sir. 

lo. Nay then God be our speed. 

Ara, Forgiue me Sir, I sawe ye not in deed. 60 

Asca. Pardon me rather, for molesting you. 
lo. Such another face I neuer knew. 
Ara. Thus studious I am wont to passe the time. 

By true proportion, of each line from line. 
lo. Oh now I see he was learning to spell, 65 

Theres A. B. C. in midst oi his table. 
Asca. Tel me I pray ye sir, may I be bold to craue 

The cause of your abode within this Caue ? 
Ara. To tell you that in this extreme distresse. 

Were but a tale of Fortunes ficklenesse. 70 

Sometime I was a Prince of Lesbos He, 

And liu'd belou'd, whilst my good stars did smile : 

But clowded once with this worids bitter crosse. 

My ioy to grife, my gaine conuerts to losse. 
Asca. Forward I pray ye, faint not in your tale. 75 

lo. It will not all be worth a cup of Ale. 
Ara. A short discourse of that which is too long 

How euer pleasing, can neuer seeme but wrong: 

Yet would my tragicke story fit the stage, 

Pleasaunt in youth, but wretched in mine age. 80 

Blinde Fortune setting vp and pulling downe, 

Abusde by those my selfe raisde to renowne : 

But y* which wrings me neer, and wounds my hart. 

Is a false brothers base vnthankfull part. 
Asc. A smal offence comparde with my disease, 85 

No doubt ingratitude in time may cease 

And be forgot : my grief out-liues all howres : 

Raining on my head, continual haplesse showers. 
Ara. You sing of yours, and I of mine relate : 

To euery one, seemes worst his owne estate. 90 

But to proceed, exiled thus by spight, 

Both country I foigoe, and brothers sight: 

And comming hither where I thought to Hue, 

Vet here I cannot but lament and greeue. 
Asca. Some comfort yet in this there doth remaine: 95 

That you haue found a partner in your paine. 
Ara. How are your sorrowes subiect, let me heare? 
Asca. More ouerthrowne, and deeper in dispaire 


Than is the manner of your heauie smart, 

My curelesse griefe, doth ranckle at my hart loo 

And in a word, to heare the summe of all, 

I loue, and am belou'd: but there-withall 

The sweetnesse of that banquet must forgo. 

Whose pleasant tast is chaungde with bitter wo. 
Ara, A conflict, but to try your noble minde, 105 

As common vnto youth, as raine to winde. 
Asca, But hence it is that doth me treble wrong, 

Expected good, that is forborne so long : 

Doth loose the vertue which the vse would proue. 
Ara. Are you then sir, despised of your Loue ? i lo 

Asca. No, but depriued of her company. 

And for my careles negligence therein: 

Am bound to doo this penaunce for my sin. 

That if I neuer finde where she remaines, 

I vowe a yeare shalbe my end of paines. 115 

Ara, Was she then lost within this Forrest here? 
Asc, Lost or forlorn, to me she was right deere. 

And this is certaine, vnto him that could 

The place where she abides to me vnfold : 

For euer I would vow my selfe his friend, 120 

Neuer reuolting till my life did end. 

And therefore sir, (as well as I know your skill) 

If you will giue me phisicke for this ill, 

And shewe me if Eurymine do Hue, 

/t were a recompence for all my paine, 1 25 

And / should thinke my ioyes were full againe. 
Ara, They know the want of health that haue bene sick, 

My selfe sometime acquainted with the like 

Do leame in dutie of a kinde regard, 

To pittie him whose hap hath bene so hard. 130 

How long / pray ye hath she absent beene ? 
Asca, Three dayes it is since that my Loue was seene. 
lo, Heer's learning for the nonce, that stands on ioynts : 

For all his cunning, ile scarse giue two poynts. 
Ara. Mer curio regnante virum^ subsequenU Luna^ 135 

Fceminam designate 

Jo. Nay and you go to latin, then tis sure, my maister shall finde 
her, if he could tell when. 
Ara. I cannot tell what reason it should bee. 

But loue and reason here doo disagree. 140 

107 it is] Q misprints it it 127 want] qy. ? worth 136 Foeminnm Q and 
BuUen 1 38 when] where BuU.^ l!y oversight^ as he tiuxkes no note 


By proofe of learned prindples I finde, 

The manner of your loue's against all kinde. 

And not to feed ye with vncertaine ioy, 

Whom you affect so much, is but a Boy. 
lo, A Riddle for my life, some Antick lest, did I not tell ye what his 
cunning was? 146 

Asca, I loue a Boy? 

Ara, Mine Art doth tell me so. 

Asca. Adde not a fresh increase vnto my woe. 
Ara, I dare auouch what lately I haue saide, 

The loue that troubles you, is for no maide. 150 

Asca, As well I might be said to touch the skie, 

Or darke the horizon with tapestrie : 

Or walke vpon the waters of the sea, 

As to be haunted with such lunacie. 
Ara. If it be false, mine Art I will defie. 155 

Asca. Amafde with griefe, my loue is then transform'd. 
lo, Maister be contented, this is leape yeare. 

Women weare breetches, petticoats are deare. 

And thats his meaning, on my life it is. 
Asc. Oh God, and shal my torments neuer cease? 160 

Ara. Represse the fury of your troubled minde : 

Walke here a while, your Lady you may finde. 
lo. A Lady and a Boy, this hangs wel together: 

Like snow in haruest, sun-shine and foule weather. 

Entir Eurymine singing. 

Since hope of helfie my froward starres^denie^ 165 

Come sweetest deaths and end my miserie. 

He left his country^ I my shape haue lost, 

Deare is the loue, that hath so dearly cost, 
Eu, Yet can I boast, though Phoebus were vniust 

This shift did seme, to barre him frova his lust. 170 

But who are these alone? I cannot chuse 

But blush for shame, that any one should see, 

Eurymine in this disguise to bee. 
Asca, It is, it is not my loue, Eurymine. 
Eury, Hark, some one hallows: gentlemen adiew, 175 

In this attire I dare not stay their view. Exit, 

Asca. My loue, my ioy, my life. 

By eye, by face, by tongue, it should be shee. 

Oh I, it was my loue, He after her, 

145-6 as verse^ Q 165-8 Q prints the four lines in romans like the rest, but 
its prefix at the ^h seems to mark transition from song to speech, I italicize 
them after Bullen 174 Bullen corrects to It is (is't not )) ^c. 


And though she passe the Eagle in her flight, 180 

He ncuer rest, till I haue gain'd her sight. Exit, 

Ara, Loue carries him, and so retains his mind, 

That he forgets how I am left behind : 

Yet will I follow softly, as I can 

In hope to see the fortune of the man. Exit, 185 

lo. Nay let them go a Gods name, one by one, 

With (all) my heart / am glad to be alone. 

Heres old transforming, would with all his Art, 

He could transforme this tree into a tart. 

See then if / would flinch from hence or no : 190 

But for it is not so, / needs must go. Exit. 

<scENB n.) 

Enter SWmo and Gemulo. 

Sx7. Is it a bargaine Gemulo^ or not ? 

Ge. Thou neuer knew'st me breake my word / wot. 

Nor will / now, betide me bale or blis. 
S//. Nor / breake mine, and here her cottage is : 

He call her forth. 
Ge, Will Siluio be so rude? 5 

S/7. Neuer shall we betwixt our selues conclude 

Our controuersie, for we ouerweene. 
Ge, Not I, but thou, for though thou iet'st in greene, 

As fresh as Meadow in a mome of May, 

And scom'st the shepheard, for he goes in gray. 10 

But Forrester, beleeue it as thy Creede, 

My mistresse mindes my person, not my weede. 
Sil, So 'twas I thought, because she tends thy sheepe 

Thou thinkst in loue of thee she taketh keepe : 

That is as townish damzels lend the hand, 15 

But send the heart to him aloofe doth stand. 

So deales Eurymine with Siluio. 
Ge. Albe she looke more blithe on Gemulo^ 

Her heart is in the dyall of her eye, 

That poynts me hers. 
S/7. That shall we quickly trye. 20 

Ge. Erynnis stop thy throte, 

Vnto thy hound thou hallowst such a note : 

I thought that shepheards had bene mannerlesse. 

But Wood-men are the ruder groomes I guesse. 


Sii. How shuld I cal her Swain, but by her name? . 25 

Ge. So Hobinoll the plow-man, calls his dame. 

Call her in Carroll from her quiet coate. 
S/7. Agreed: but whether shall begin his note. 
Ge, Draw cuttes. 

S//. Content, the longest shall begin. 

Ge. Tis min^. 

S/7. Sing loude, for she is farre within. 30 

Ge. Instruct thy singing in thy Forrest waies. 

Shepheards know how to chant their roundelaies. 
S//. Repeat our bargain, ere we sing our Song. 

Least after wrangling, should our mistresse wrong. 

If me she chuse, thou must be well content : 35 

If thee she chuse, I giue thee like consent. 
Ge, Tis done : now Pan pipe on thy sweetest Reede, 

And as / loue, so let thy seruaunt speede. 

As little Lambes lift vp their snowie sides^ 
When mounting Larke salutes the gray-eyed mome : 40 

Si7. As from the Oaken leaues the honie glides^ 

Where Nightingales record vpon the thome, 
Ge, So rise my thoughts. 

Sil. So all my sences cheere, 

Ge. When she surueyes my flocks, 

Sil, And she my Deare, 

Ge, Eurymine. 45 

Sil, Eurymine. 

Ge, Come foorth, 
Sil, Come foorth, 

Ge, Come foorth emd cheere these plaines. 

And both sing this togither, when they haue sung it single, 
Sil, The Wood-mans Loue. 
Ge, And Lady of the Swaynes, 

Enter Eurymine, 

Faire Forester and lonely shepheard Swaine, 

Your CarroUs call Eurymine in vaine: 50 

For she is gone, her Cottage and her sheepe. 

With me her brother, hath she left to keepe: 

And made me sweare by Pan^ ere she did go, 

To see them safely kept, for Gemulo. 

They both looke straungely vpon her, apart ectch from other. 
Ge. What? hath my Loue a new come Louer than? 55 

Sil, What? hath my Mistresse got another man? 

39 Only the first four lines are italicized in Q 


Ge. This Swayne will rob me of Eurymine, 

SiL This youth hath power to win Eurymine, 

Ge. This straungers beautie beares away my prize. 

Sil, This straunger will bewitch her with his eies. 60 

Ge, It is Adonis, 

Sil, It is Ganymede, 

Ge, My blood is chill. 

Sil, My heart is cold as Leade. 

Eu. Faire youthes, you haue forgot for what ye came. 

You seeke your Loue, shee's gone. 
Ge, The more too blame. 

Eu, Not so, my sister had no will to go: 65 

But that our parents dread commaund was so. 
S/7. It is thy scuse, thou art not of her kin, 

But as my Ryuall, com'ste my Loue to win. 
Eu, By great Apollos sacred Deitie, 

That shepheardesse so neare is Sib to me, 70 

As I ne may (for all this world) her wed: 

For she and I in one selfe wombe were bred. 

But she is gone, her flocke is left to mee. 
Ge, The shepcoat's mine, and I will in and see. 
S/7. And I. Exeunt Siluio and Gemulo, 

Eu, Go both, cold comfort shall you finde, 75 

My manly shape, hath yet a womans minde: 

Prone to reueale what secret she doth know, 

God pardon me, I was about to show 

My transformation: peace they come againe. 

Enter Siluio, and Gemulo. 

Sil. Haue ye found her? 

Ge, No, we looke in vaine. 80 

Eu, I told ye so. 

Ge, Yet heare me, new-come Swayne. 

Albe thy seemly feature set no sale 

But honest truth vpon thy nouell tale. 

Yet (for this world is full of subtiltie) 

We wish thee goe with vs for companie 85 

Vnto a Wise-man wonning in this wood, 

Right AramanlAf whose wit and skill is good: 

That he may certifie our mazing doubt. 

How this straunge chaunce and chaunge hath fallen out. 
Eu, I am content : haue with ye, when ye will. 90 

Sil, £uen now. 
Eu, Hee'le make ye muse, if he haue any skill. Exeunt, 


ACT. 5. 

(Scene I.) 

Enter Ascanio^ and Eurymine. 

Asca, EuryminCy I pray if thou be shee, 

Refraine thy haste, and doo not flie from mee. 

The time hath bene my words thou wouldst allow, 

And am I growne so loathsome to thee now? 
Eu, Ascanio^ time hath bene I must confesse, 5 

When in thy presence was my happinesse: 

But now the manner of my miserie, 

Hath chaung'd that course, that so it cannot be. 
Asca, What wrong haue I contriued ? what iniurie 

To alienate thy liking so from me ? 10 

If thou be she whom sometime thou didst faine, 

And bearest not the name of friend in vaine. 

Let not thy borrowed guise of altred kinde, 

Alter the wonted liking of thy minde : 

But though in habit of a man thou goest, 15 

Yet be the same Eurymine thou wast. 
Eu. How gladly would I be thy Lady still, 

If earnest vowes might answere to my will ? 
Asca. And is thy fancie alterd with thy guise? 

Eu, My kinde, but not my minde in any wise. 20 

Asca, What though thy habit differ from thy kind: 

Thou maiest retain thy wonted louing mind. 
Eu. And so I doo. 
Asca. Then why art thou so straunge ? 

Or wherefore doth thy plighted fancie chaunge ? 
Eu, AscaniOj my heart doth honor thee. 25 

Asc, And yet continuest stil so strange to me ? 
Eu. Not strange, so far as kind wil giue me leaue. 
Asca. Vnkind that kind, that kindnesse doth bereaue: 

Thou saist thou louest me. 
Eu. As a friend his friend: 

And so I vowe to loue thee to the end. 30 

Asca. I wreake not of such loue, loue me but so 

As faire Eurymine lou'd Ascanio. 
Eu. That loue^s denide vnto my present kinde. 
Asca. In kindly shewes, vnkinde I doo thee finder 

I see thou art as constant as the winde. 35 


Eu. Doth kind allow a man to loue a man? 

Asca. Why art not thou Euryminel 

Eu. I am. 

Ksca, Eurymine my Loue? 

Eu. The very same. 

Pisca, And wast not thou a woman then? 

Eu. Most true. 

ks. And art thou changed from a woman now ? 40 

Eu. Too true. 

ksc. These tales my mind perplex: 

Thou art Eurymine. 
Eu. In name, but not in sexe. 

ksca. What then? 
Eu. A man. 

ksca. In guise thou art I see. 

Eu. The guise thou seest, doth with my kinde agree. 
ksca. Before thy flight thou wast a woman tho. 45 

Eu, True kscanio. 

ksca. And since art thou a man? 

Eu. Too true deare friend. 

ksca. Then haue I lost a wife. 

Eu. But found a friend, whose dearest blood and life, 

Shalbe as readie as thine owne for thee: 

/n place of wife, such friend thou hast of mee. 50 

Enter loculo^ and kramanthus. 
lo. I here they are: maister well ouertane, 

/ thought we two should neuer meete againe : 

You went so fast, that I to follow ye, 

Slipt ouer hedge and ditch, and many a tall tree. 
kra. Well said my Boy, thou knowest not how to lie. 55 

lo. To lye Sir? how say you was it not so? 

You were at my heeles, though farre off, ye know: 

For maister, not to counterfayt with ye now, 

Hee's as good a footeman as a shackled sow. 
ksca. Good Sir y'are welcome, sirrha hold your prate. 60 

kra. What speed in that I told to you of late ? 
Asca. Both good and bad, as doth the sequell proue. 

For (wretched) I haue found, and lost my Loue. 

If that be lost which I can nere enioy. 
lo. Faith Mistresse y'are too blame to be so coy. 65 

The day hath bene, but what is that to mee: 

When more familiar with a man you'ld bee. 
Ara. I told ye you should finde a man of her : 

Or else my rule did very straungely erre. 


Asca, Father, the triall of your skill I finde, 70 

My Loue's transformde into another kinde: 

And so I finde, and yet haue lost my Loue. 
lo. Ye cannot tell, take her aside and proue. 
Asca. But sweet Eurymine make some report 

Why thou departedst from my fathers Court ? 75 

And how this straunge mishap to thee befell. 

Let me intreat thou wouldst the processe telL 
Eu. To shew how I arriued in this ground, 

Were but renewing of an auncient wound : 

Another time that office ile fulfill, So 

Let it suffice, I came against my will. 

And wandring here about this Forrest side, 

It was my chaunce of Phcebus to be spide. 

Whose loue because 1 chastly did withstand. 

He thought to offer me a violent hand. 85 

But for a present shift to shun his rape, 

I wisht my selfe transformde into this shape : 

Which he performed (God knowes) against his wil: 

And I since then, haue wayld my fortune still. 

Not for misliking ought I finde in mee, 90 

But for thy sake, whose wife I meant to bee. 
Ksca. Thus haue you heard our woful destenie. 

Which I in heart lament, and so doth she. 
Ara. The fittest remedie that I can finde. 

Is this, to ease the torment of your minde. 95 

Perswade your selues that great hpollo can, 

As easily make a woman of a man, 

As contrariwise he made a man of her. 
AsccL I thinke no lesse. 
Ara. Then humble suite preferre 

To him: perhaps your prayers may attaine, 100 

To haue her tumd into her forme againe. 
Eu. But Phcebus such disdain to me doth beare, 

As hardly we shall win his graunt I feare. 
Ara, Then in these verdant fields al richly dide, 

With natures gifts, and Floras painted pride: 105 

There is a goodly spring whose christal streames 

Beset with myrtles, keepe backe Phcebus beames: 

There in rich seates all wrought of luory. 

The Graces sit, listening the melodye: 

The warbling Birds doo from their prettie billes no 

Vnite in corcord, as the brooke distilles. 

Whose gentle murmure with his buzzing noates. 


Is as a base vnto their hollow throates. 

Garlands beside they weare vpon their browes. 

Made of all sorts of flowers earth allowes : 115 

From whence such fragrant sweet perfumes arise, 

As you would sweare that place is Paradise. 

To them let vs repaire with humble hart. 

And meekly shew the manner of your smart : 

So gratious are they in ApoUas eies, 120 

As their intreatie quickly may suffice. 

In your behalfe, He tell them of your states, 

And craue their aides, to stand your aduocates. 
Asca, For euer you shall bind vs to you than. 

Ara, Come go with me: He doo the best I can. 125 

(^Exeunt ^ except JOCULO.) 
lo. Is not this hard luck to wander so long, 

And in the end to finde his wife markt wrong. 

Enter Phy lander, 

A proper iest as euer I heard tell. 

In sooth, me thinks the breech becomes her well : 

And might it not make their husbands feare them, 130 

Wold all the wiues in our town might wear them. 
Phy. Tell me youth, art a straunger here or no? 
lo. Is your commission sir, to examine me so? 
Phy. What is it thou ? now by my troth wel met. 
lo. By your leaue, it*s well ouertaken yet. 135 

Phy. I litle thought I should a found thee here. 
lo. Perhaps so sir. 

Phy, I prethee speake, what cheere? 

lo. What cheere can here be hopte for in these woods? 

Except trees, stones, bryars, bushes, or buddes? 
Phy, My meaning is, I faine would heare thee say, 140 

How thou doest man, why tak'st thou this another way. 
lo. Why then sir, I doo as well as I may. 

And to perswade ye, that welcome ye bee, 

Wilt please ye sir, to eate a crab with mee ? 
Phy. Beleeue me loculoy reasonable hard cheere. 145 

lo. Phylander^ tis the best we can get heere. 

But when retume ye to the Court againe? 
Phy. Shortly, now 1 haue found thee. 
lo. To requite your paine, 

s. D. [Exeunt ^c^ omitted Q and Bullen 130 them] Bullen rightly corrects 
then^^ 13a Phy.] the prefix omitted in Q and Bullen 141 tak'st 

thou] thou tak'st Q Bull. 


Shall I intreat you beare a present from me ? 
Phy, To whom ? 
lo. To the Duke. 

Phy. What shall it be? 150 

lo. Because Venson so oonuenient doth not fall, 

A pecke of Acomes to make meny withall. 
Phy, What meanest thou by that ? 
lo. By my troth sir as ye see, 

Acomes are good enough for such as hee. 

I wish his honour well, and to doo him good: 155 

Would he had eaten aU the Acorns in th' wood. 
Phy. Good words locuh, of your Lord & mine. 
lo. As may agree with such a churlish swine. 

How dooes his honor? 
Phy. Indifferently well. 

lo. I wish him better. 
Phy. How ? 

lo. Vice-gexent in helL 160 

Phy. Doest thou wish so, for ought that he hath done ? 
lo. I for the loue he beares vnto his sonne. 
Phy. Hees g^wne of late, as fatherly and milde. 

As euer father was vnto his childe: 

And sent me forth to search the coast about, 165 

If so my hap might be to finde him out 

And if Eurymine aliue remaine, 

To bring them both vnto the Court againe. 

Where is thy maister? 
Jo. Walking about the ground. 

Phy. Oh that his Loue Eurymine were found. 170 

lo. Why so she is, come follow me and see. 

He bring ye strait where they remaining bee. Exeunt. 

(Scene II.) 

Enter three or foure Muses ^ AramanthuSy AscaniOy Situto, 

and Gemulo. 

Asca. Cease your contention for Eurymine. 
Nor wordes, nor vowes, can helpe her miserie: 
But he it is that did her first transforme. 
Must calme the gloomy rigor of this storme : 

Great Phcsbus^ whose Pallace we are neere, 5 

Salute him then in his celestiall sphere: 
That with the notes of cheerfull harmonie, 
He may be mou'd to shewe his Deitie.] THE MAYDES METAMORPHOSIS 383 

St'l, But wheres Eurymine, haue we lost her sight ? 

As. Poore soule, within a caue, with fear affright 10 

She sits, to shun Apollos ang^ view, 

Vntill she see what of our prayers ensue: 

If we can reconcile his loue or no, 

Or that she must continue in her woe, 
I. Mu. Once haue we tried Ascanio^ for thy sake 15 

And once againe we will his power awake : 

Not doubting but as he is of heauenly race. 

At length he will take pitie on her case. 

Sing therefore, and each partie from his heart, 

In this our musicke, beare a chearefull part. 20 

All haile /aire Phoebus, in thy purple throne, 
Vouchsafe the regarding of our deepe mone. 
Hide not, oh hide not, thy comfortable face, 
But pittie, hut pittie, a virgins poore case. 

Phoebus appeares. 

1. Muse, Illustrate bewtie, Christall heauens eye, 25 
Once more we do entreat thy demencie : 

That as thou art the power of vs all. 
Thou would'st redeeme Eurymine from thrall. 
Graunt gentle God, graunt this our small request, 
And if abilitie in vs do rest : 30 

Whereby we euer may deserue the same. 
It shalbe seene, we reuerence Phoebus name. 
Phoe. You sacred sisters of faire Helli{c')on, 
On whom my fauours euermore haue shone. 

In this you must haue patience with my vow, 35 

I cannot graunt what you aspire vnto. 
Nor was't my fault, she was transformed so, 
But her owne fond desire, as ye well know. 
We told her too, before her vow was past, 

That cold repentance would ensue at last. 40 

And sith her selfe did wish the shape of man, 
She causde the abuse, digest it how she can. 

2. Muse, Alas, if vnto her you be so hard. 
Yet of Ascanio haue some more regard. 

And let him not endure such endlesse wrong, 45 

That hath pursude her constant loue so long. 

a 1-4 All haile . . . case] the four lines are not italicized in Q 


Asca, Great God, the greeuous trauells I haue past, 

In restlesse search, to find her out at last : 

My plaints my toiles, in lieu of my annoy, 

Haue well deseru'd my Lady to enioy. 5° 

Penance too much I haue sustaind before: 

Oh PhaebuSy plague me not with any more. 

Nor be thou so extreame, now at the worst 

To make my torments greater than at the first. 

My Fathers late displeasure is forgot, 55 

And theres no let, nor any churlish blot 

To interrupt our ioyes from being compleat. 

But only thy good fauour to intreat: 

In thy great grace it lyes to make my state 

Most happie now, or most infortunate. 60 

I Mu, Heauenly Apollo, on our knees I pray, 

Vouchsafe thy great displeasure to allay. 

What honor to thy Godhead will arise, 

To plague a silly Lady in this wise? 

Beside, it is a staine vnto thy Deitie, 65 

To yeeld thine owne desires the soueraigntie : 

Then shew some grace vnto a wofull Dame, 

And in these groues, our tongues shall sound thy fame. 
Phce, Arise deare Nourses of diuinest skill. 

You sacred Muses of Pemassus hill : 70 

Phoebus is conquerd by your deare respect, 

And will no longer clemency neglect. 

You haue not sude nor praide to me in vaine : 

I graunt your willes, she is a mayd againe. 
Asca, Thy praise shal neuer die whilst I do liue. 75 

2. Mu, Nor will we slack perpetual thankes to giue. 
Phoe. Thalia, neare the Caue where she remaines 

The Fayries keepe, request them of their paines, 

And in my name, bid them forthwith prouide. 

From that darke place, to be the Ladies g^ide. '80 

And in the bountie of their liberall minde. 

To giue her cloathes according to her kinde. 
I. Mu. I goe diuine Apollo, Exit 

Phoe. Haste againe. 

No time too swift, to ease a Louers paine. 
Asca. Most sacred Phoebus, endles thankes to thee, 85 

That doest vouchsafe so much to pittie mee. 

And aged father, for your kindnesse showne. 

Imagine not your friendship ill bestowne. 

The earth shall sooner vanisH and decay, 


Than I will proue vnthankfull any way. 90 

Ara, It is sufficient recompence to me. 

If that my silly helpe haue pleasurde ye. 

If you enioy your Loue and hearts desire. 

It is enough: nor doo I more require. , 

Phoe. Graue Aranumthus^ now I see thy face 95 

I call to minde, how tedious a long space 

Thou hast frequented these sad desarts here, 

Thy time imployed, in heedfull minde I beare: 

The patient sufferance of thy former wrong, 

Thy poore estate, and sharp exile so long, loo 

The honourable port thou bor'st sometime. 

Till wrongd thou wast, with vndeserued crime 

By them whom thou to honour didst aduance, 

The memory of which thy heauy chance, 

Prouokes my minde to take remorse on thee, 105 

Father henceforth, my clyent shalt thou bee: 

And passe the remnant of thy fleeting time. 

With Lawrell wreath, amongst the Muses nine. 

And when thy age hath giuen place to £iite. 

Thou shalt exchaunge thy former mortall state: no 

And after death, a palme of fame shalt weare. 

Amongst the rest that liue in honor here. 

And lastly know, that faire Eurymine 

Redeemed now from former miserie 

Thy daughter is, whom I for that intent 115 

Did hide from thee, in this thy banishment: 

That so she might the greater scourge sustaine, 

/n putting Phoebus to so great a paine. 

But freely now, enioy each others sight: 

No more Eurymine \ abandon quite 1 20 

That borrowed name, as Atlanta, she is calde. 

And here she woman, in her right shape instalde. 
A sea. /s then my Loue deriu'de of noble race ? 
Pha. No more of that, but mutually imbrace. 
Ara. Liues my Atlanta^ whom the rough seas wane 125 

/ thought had brought vnto a timelesse graue ? 
Phce. Looke not so straunge, it is thy fathers voyce. 

And this thy Loue : Atlanta now reioyce. 
Eu. As in another world of greater blis 

My daunted spirits doo stand amazde at this. 130 

So great a tyde. of comfort ouerflowes, 

As what to say, my faltering tongue scarse knowes: 
laa Bulien corrects to And here's the woman 



But only this, vnperfect though it bee, 

/mmortall thankes great Phcebus vnto thee. 
Phce, Well Lady, you are retransformed now, 135 

But / am sure you did repent your vow. 
Eury. Bright Lampe of glory, pardon my rashnesse past. 
Pha, The penance was your owne, though / did fast. 

Enter Phyiamier, and loculo, 

Asca. Behold deare Loue, to make your ioyes abound. 

Yonder Phylander comes. 
Jo, Oh sir, well found. 140 

But most especially it glads my minde, 

To see my mistresse restorde to kinde. 
Phy, My Lord & Madam, to requite your pain, 

Telemachus hath sent for you againe. 

All former quarrels now are trodden downe, 145 

And he doth smile, that heretofore did frowne. 
Asca. Thankes kinde Phylander, for thy friendly newes, 

Like lunos balme, that our lifes blood renewes. 
Phce, But Lady, first ere you your ioumey take, 

Vouchsafe at my request, one graunt to make. 150 

Eu, Most willingly. 
Pha, The matter is but small. 

To weare a braunch of Lawrell in your Caull 

For Phcebus sake, least else / be foigot. 

And thinke vpon me, when you see me not. 
Eu. Here while I liue a solemne oath I make, 155 

To loue the Lawrell for Afiollos sake. 
Ge. Our suite is dasht, we may depart I see. 
Phcg. Nay Gemulo and Siluio, contented bee: 

This night let me intreate ye you will take. 

Such cheare as I and these poore Dames can make. 160 

To morrow mome weele bring you on your way. 
.V/7. Your Godhead shall commaund vs all to stay. 
PhcB. Then Ladies gratulate this happie chaunce, 

With some delightfull tune and pleasaunt daunce. 

Meane space, vpon his Harpe will Phcebus play, 165 

So both of them may boast another day 

And make report, that when their wedding chaunc'te, 

Phcebus gaue musicke, and the Muses daunc*te. 

149 Phoe.] Phy. Q, by mistake 


The Song. 

Since painfull sorrowes date hath end^ 

And time hath coupled friend with friend: 170 

Reioyce we all^ reioyce and sing^ 

Let all these groaues of Phcebus ring* 

Hope hauing wonne, dispcdre is vanisht : 

Pleasure reuiues, and care is banisht. 

Then trippe we all this Roundelay ^ 175 

And still be mindfull of the Bay. Exeunt. 


c c a 



(i) A. Title as at p. 393, but having headpiece with bald-headed boy in centre 
and two creatnres with homed yet human heads gallopping from him. 
40 undated [1589]. (Bodleian— Douce, N. 252 (wanting foL El): 
Trin. Coll. Camb.) 

(3) B. Title as at p. 393, but having headpiece containing woman's head with 
ringlets in centre, j^^ undated [1589]. 
(Brit. Mus. 2 copies, C. 37. d. 41 and 96. b. 15 : King*s Coll. Camb.) 

(3) C. Title exactly as B. 4* undated [1589]. (Bodleian— Malone, 715.) 

(4) With Introduction and Notes by John Petheram, forming No. 3 of the series 

Puritan Discipline Tracts ^ Lon. 1844, 12°^, printed from (2). 

(5) Among Elisabetkan and Jacobean Pamphlets (Pocket Library of English 

Literature, vol. iv. pp. 43-83), with brief introduction and notes by 
G. F. Saintsbury (Lon. Percival & Co. 1892. i6"^). 


Text.— My collation of the two copies in the Bodleian and the two in 
the British Museum establishes clearly the existence of three editions, both 
British Museum copies (from one of which Petheram printed) being of 
the same. But in all copies the tract has but nineteen leaves, whose 
collation is the same, the number of words on a page never differing, 
though there is occasional slight variety in the internal arrangement In 
all, the address ' To the Father,' &c. occupies the second and third leaves, 
that ' To the Indifferent Reader ' (in smaller italics) the fourth, while the 
appended portion (from ' Here I was writing Finis and Funis ') com- 
mencing on the verso of the sixteenth leaf extends for three leaves more. 
But the distinction between the three editions is established by the variety 
in the position of the signatures, and by a large number of orthographical 
differences, in addition to the points enumerated in the table below. It 
is almost impossible to fix their order with certainty ; but I have noticed 
a large number of cases where B and C agree in spelling or pointing, and 
differ from A ; ten or eleven points which are evidently corrections of B 
by C ; and one (p. 398 1. 28) in which C corrects both A and B. As to 
the respective order of these latter, the character of the three cases in 
which B (followed by C) corrects A— pp. 395 1. 5, 405 1. 2, 406 1. 4— 
may be taken to establish B's later .date, in spite of the ten cases (given 
below) in which, on that supposition, it corrupts A ; for five of these are 
again corrected by C, while the other five perhaps should hardly be 
considered corruptions. The question is of no importance, as all three 
editions must have appeared close together. The text I have followed 
is that of C, errors being corrected from A or B and every variant of the 
least importance being given in the footnotes. 


(Douce copy) (Brit. Mus. copies) (Malone copy) 
P- 395 !• 5 the nephewe his his nephewe the his nephewe the 




P. 398 1. 6 

brake your fast 

brake you fast 

brake you fast 

P. 398 1. 28 

MartHns . . ergo 

Mar fins . . ergo 

Martins . . ergo 
(for Martin's) 

^' 399 1. 34 

all is 



P. 400 1. 4 

abusde, for 

abusde . for 

abusde: for 


P. 400 1. 4 
P. 400 1. 39 
P. 401 1. II 


P. 402 1. 19 
P. 402 1. 33 
P. 404 1. 24 
P. 405 1. 2 

P. 405 1. 29 
P. 405 1. 35 

P. 406 1. 4 
P. 407 1, 30 
P. 409 L 3 
P. 410 1. 5 
P. 412 1. 3 
P. 412 1. 33 
P. 413 1- 2 


Sainct Martins 

(foL B 4 recto, line 
i) They venter 
(printed level with 
fc^owing line) 

set him to worke 



I (marie quoth the 


this gaming 

hath sod 



GOD saue 




you cannot 

Sainct Martins 
(printed level, as 
in A) 

set to him worke 

I marie (quoth the 
his gaming humour 

had sod 



GOD sane 




you cannot 


Saincts Martins 

(indented the width 
of two letters to 
mark new para- 

set him to worke 



I marie (quoth the 


his gaming humour 

hath sod 



GOD saue 




thou cannot 

Authorship. — Lyl/s authorship cannot seriously be disputed. On 
p.40011.25 sqq. we have a passage referring to Gabriel Harvey ,which called 
forth from the latter the Advertisement to Papp-Haichetty dated Nov. 5, 
1589, and printed as the second book oi Pierces Supererogation in 1593. 
In this Advertisement^ and again in the Four Letters and certaine Son* 
nets of 1592, Harvey expressly identifies Lyly as the author* ; and though 

* From the Advertisement, printed in Biydges^ Archaica, voL ii : — 

'Pap-hatchet (for the name of thy good nature is pitifully grown out of 
requeft) thv old acauaintance in the Savoy, when young Euphues hatcht the eggs 
that his elder frienas laid (Surely Euphues was some way a pretty fellow : would 
God Lilly had alwaies been Euphues and never Papp-hatchet), that old acqaamt- 
ance now somewhat strangely saluted with a new remembrance, is neither InUabied 
with thy sweet Papp, nor scare-crow'd with thy sour Hatchett/ P. 81. 

— ' Euphues it is good to be merrv, and Lvly it is good to be wise, and Papp- 
hatchet it is better to lose a new jest than an old friend. P. 81. 

— ' Albeit every man cannot compete such grand volumes as Euphues, or reare 
such mighty tomes as Pap-hatchet ; yet he might have thought other poore men 
have tongues and pennes to speak something, when they are provoked unreason- 
ably. But loosers may have their wordes and comedians their actes : such drie 
bobbers can lustily strike at other, and cunningly rapp themselves. He hath not 
played the Vicematter of Ponies, and the Foolemaster of the Theater for naaghtes : 
himtelfe a mad lad, as ever twangd, never troubled with any substance of witt, or 
circumstance of honestie, sometime the fiddlestidce of Oxford, now the veiy bable 
of London.* P. 137. 

— * had I been Martin (as for a time I was vainly suspected by such mad 


this identification might conceivably be mere conjecture on Harvey'^ 
part, yet it is confirmed by our knowledge of a previous quarrel between 
the two men of a date roughly corresponding with the ' tenne yeres ' 
grudge to which Papfie (p. 400 1. 34) alludes. Moreover the attribution 
was never denied, either by Lyly himself or by Nash, his partner in the 
war against the Martinists. In Strange NeweSy 1593, Nash twice alludes 
to the Harvey s* attack on himself and Pap-hatchet ; in Pierce Pennilesse^ 
1592, he anticipates that 'he also whom thou tearmest the vayn Pap- 
hatchet will haue a fiurt at thee one day ' ; and in Haue with you to 
Saffron IVaidron, 1 596, he writes ' For Master Lillie (who is halues with 
me in this indignitie that is ofTred) [i.e. in Pierces Supererogation]^ 
I will not take the tale out of his mouth ; for he is better able to defend 
himselfe than I am able to say he is able to defend himselfe, and in so 
much time as hee spendes in taking Tobacco one weeke, he can compile 
that which would make Gabriell repent himselfe all his life after. With 
a blacke sant he meanes shortly to bee at his chamber window, for calling 
him the Fiddlesticke of Oxford.' It is impossible to read these passages, and 
those from the Advertisement quoted below, and not feel that the Bishops' 
engagement of Lyly and Nash was an open secret ; and there is nothing 
surviving (beyond the doubtful Whip for an Ape and Mar-Martine) that 
can be attributed to Lyly except Pappe^ which, further, affords internal 
evidence of his authorship, both in matter consonant with our knowledge 
of Lyly, and in echoes of Euphues. Under the first head might be men- 
tioned his allusions to Cambridge, pp. 398-9, and to Nash (his junior) 
as a 'little wag,' a 'boy,' p. 398, to the gambling in 'an Hospitall' (a 
reminiscence of the Savoy) p. 399 I. 14, to the violin, p. 413 1. 31 ; his 
knowledge of the Court, p. 397 1. 7, and of theatrical affairs, p. 408 ; and 
his sense of the contrast of style between Pappe and Euphues — ' I was 
loath so to write as I haue done, but . . . who would currie an Asse with 
an luorie combe?' p. 394 11. 27-30. Under the second head we get, for 
all he can do, a vast amount of punning and alliteration, and occasional 
antithetic passages : ' Faith,' he says, p. 401 1. 14 after such a lapse into 
euphuism, ' thou wilt bee caught by the stile ' ; and indeed one cannot 

copesmates that can surmise anything for their purpose, howsoever unlikely or 
monstrous) I would have been so far from being moved by such a fantastical 
confuter, that it should have been one of my May-games or August triumphs to 
have driven officials . . . bishops and archbishops ... to entertain such an odd 
light-headed fellow for their defence ; a professed jester, a hick-scomer, a scoff- 
master, a play-monger, an interluder ; once the fool of Oxford, now the stale of 
London, and ever the apes-clog of the press, Cum privilegio perennitatis.' P. 86. 
From the Four Letters and certaine Sonnets (Brydges* ArcAaica, it p. 1 7) : — 
— ' And that was all the fleeting that ever I felt, saving that another company 
of special good fellows (whereof he was none of the meanest that brauely threat- 
ened to conjure up one which should massacre Martin's wit or should be lambacked 
himself with ten years provision) would needs forsooth very courtly persuade the 
Earle of Oxforde that something in those letters, and namely the Mirrour of 
Tuscanismo, was palpably intended against him,* &c. 


beliere that he was particularly anxious to avoid detection, havii^ no sndi 
motive for concealment as had the Martinists. The idea (p. 395 L 3) of 
riding the kiddsh wit of an opponent occurs again at the end of Act iv. 
So. 3 of Mother BomMe. The following particular echoes of Eupkuts are 
also dearly traceable (see notes) : ' addle egges . . . idle heads,' p. 396 1. 50; 
the making of Sdron and Procrustes partners, ib. L 31 ; 'mould . . . 
™<>^>' P- 397 ^ 3 9 ' ^ch a warming as shall make all his deuices like 
^"^ood,* p. 399 IL 25-6 ; ' abiects . . . subiects,' p. 41 1 1. 41 ; ' teare boughs 
. . . hew tree,' ' wet feete • . . care not how deepe they wade,* p. 412 11. 1-2 ; 
a couple of natural history allusions, pp. 396 1. 16 (camel), 399 L 39 
(Estritch) ; and the passage ' Her sacred Maiestie,' &c, p. 409 11. 5 sqq., 
which a little recalls Euphues' ' Glasse for Europe.' 

For the occasion of the pamphlet and the Marprelate Controversy in 
general see Life, vol. i. pp. 49-60. 

Date. — The composition of all except the closing pages preceded the ap- 
pearance of Martin's Protestatyon^ after which, at p. 410 1. 19, the pamphlet 
was resumed. An approximate date for that appearance is to be inferred 
from The Retume of Pcuquill (d iii. verso), where just after * Pasquil's Pro- 
testaticMi,' which is dated ' 20 Octobris Anno Millimo Quillimo Trillimo,' 
Nash says, ' Yester night late olde Martins Protestation in Octauo was 
brought vnto mee.' I see no reason to doubt that ' 20 Octobris ' repre- 
sents the real date of Nash's writing, and therefore that the Protestatyon 
had appeared from the beginning to the middle of the same month. That 
being so, Pappe^ which contains an appendix answering it, can hardly 
have appeared before the second or third week of October ; while a down- 
ward limit is found in the date affixed to Harvey's reply, the Advertise^ 
ment to Papp-Hatchett—^ At Trinitie hall : this fift of Nouember : 1589.' 

Contents.— It is unnecessary to summarize its contents. It makes little 
attempt at serious argument, and indeed seems to disclaim any such (p. 410 
11. 4 sqq.). It is a mere farrago of abuse and scandal gleaned from Nash, 
which Gabriel Harvey (Brydges'^nr^/V^i, ii.p. 83) adequately described as 
' alehouse and tinkerly stuff,' saying that a pamphlet ' so oddly huddled 
and bungled together, in so madbrain a sort and with so brainsick stufi^' 
was ' nothing worthy a scholar or a civil gentleman,' and ' one of the most 
paltry things that ever was published by graduate of either university ' 
(Brydges' Archaica^ i. p. 141). Its apparent high spirits do not prevent 
an occasional indication that Lyly finds his task a bore, e. g. pp. 399 L 34, 
403 11. 6, 18, 404 11. 29, 36, 406 IL 6-8, 413 1. 4. Mingled, however, with the 
ribaldry are one or two pertinent and well-told stories, e. g. pp. 402 IL 12- 
26, 409 11. 16-35 » much that at first appears sheer nonsense is found on 
examination to possess some point ; and the brochure^ whatever its 
defects, reached a third edition. 

Pappe with an hatchet. 


A figgefor my Godfonne. 


Cracky me tlois nut. 


A Countrie cuffe^ that is^ a found boxe of the 

eare, for the idiot Martin to hold his peace, 

feeing the patch will take no 


Written by one that dares call a dog^ a dog^ 
and made to preuent Martins dog daies. 

I mprinted by lohnr^noke^ and lohn AJiile^ for the 
Bay line ofWithernam, cum priuilegio per enni ta- 
lis^ and are to bee fold at the figne of the 
crab tree cudgell in thwack- 
coate lane. 

odf fentence. 
Martin hangs fit for my mowing. 

To the Father and the two Sonnes, 
Huffe, Ruffe, and Snuffe, 

the three tame ruffians of the Church, which take pepper 

in the nose, because they can 

not marre Prelates^,) 5 


ROOME for a royster ; so thats well sayd, itch a little further for a good 
fellowe. Now haue at you all my gaffers of the rayling religion, tis I that 
must take you a peg lower. I am sure you looke for more worke, you 
shall haue wood enough to cleaue, make your tongue the wedge, and your 10 
head the beede. He make such a splinter runne into your wits, as shal 
make the ranckle till you become fooles. Nay, if you shoot bookes like 
fooles bolts. He be so bold as to make your iudgements quiuer with my 
thunderbolts. If you meane to gather clowdes in the Commonwealth, to 
threaten tempests, for your flakes of snowe weele pay you with stones of 15 
hayle ; if with an Easterlie winde you bring Catterpillers into the Church, 
with a Northeme wind weele driue barrennes into your wits. 

We care not for a Scottish mist, though it wet vs to the skin, you shal 
be sure your cockscombs shall not be mist, but pearst to the skuls. I pro- 
fesse rayling, and think it as good a cudgell for a Martin, as a stone for 20 
a dogge, or a whippe for an Ape, or poyson for a rat. 

Yet find fault with no broad termes, for I haue mesured yours with 
mine, & I find yours broader iust by the list. Say not my speaches are 
light, for I haue weighed yours and mine, and I finde yours lighter by 
twentie graines than the allowance. For number you exceede, for you 25 
haue thirtie ribauld words for my one, and yet you beare a good spirit. 
I was loath so to write as I haue done, but that I leamde, that he that 
drinkes with cutters, must not be without his ale dagger ; nor hee that 
buckles with Martin^ without his lauish termes. 

Who would currie an Asse with an luorie combe ? giue the beast 30 
thistles for prouender. I doo but yet angle with a silken flye, to see 
whether Martins will nibble ; and if I see that, why then I haue wormes 
for the nonce, and will giue them line enough like a trowte, till they 
swallow both hooke and line, and then Martin beware your gilles, for He 
make you daunce at the poles end. 35 


I knowe Martin will with a trice bestride my shoulders. Well, if he 
ride me, let the foole sit fast, for my wit is verie kickish ; which if he 
spurre with his copper replie, when it bleedes, it will all to besmeare their 
5 If a Martin can play at chestes, as well as his nephewe the ape, he 
shall knowe what it is for a scaddle pawne, to crosse a Bishop in his owne 
walke. Such dydoppers must be taken vp, els theile not stick to check 
the king. Rip vp my life, discipher my name, fill thy answer as full of 
lies as of lines, swel like a toade, hisse like an adder, bite like a dog, & 

10 chatter like a monkey, my pen is prepared and my minde ; and if yee 
chaimce to finde any worse words than you brought, let them be put in 
your dads dictionarie. And so farewell, and be hangd, and I pray God 
ye fare no worse. 

Yours at an houres warning 

,5 Double V. 

5 the nephewe his ape A 



It is high time to search in what comer of the Church the fire is 
kindled, being crept so far, as that with the verie smoke the consciences 
of diuers are smothered. It is found that certaine Martins^ if no mis- 5 
creants in religion (which wee may suspect) yet without doubt male- 
cotents (which wee ought to feare) haue throwen fire, not into the Church 
porch, but into the Chauncell, and though not able by learning and 
iudgement to displace a Sexton, yet seeke to remooue Bishops. They 
haue scattered diuers libels, all so taunting and slanderous, as it is hard lo 
to iudge, whether their lyes exceed their bittemesse, or their bittemesse 
their fables. 

If they be answered by the grauitie of learned Prelates, they presentlie 
reply with railings ; which argueth their intent to be as farre frd the truth 
of deuotion, as their writings from mildnes of spirit. It is said that 15 
camels neuer drinke, til they haue troubled the water with their feete, & 
it seemes these Martins cannot carouse the sapp of the Church, till by 
faction they make tumults in religion. Seeing the either they expect no 
graue replie, or that they are settled with railing to replie ; I thought it 
more conuenient, to giue them a whisk with their owne wand, than to ao 
haue them spurd with deeper learning. 

The Scithian slaues, though they bee vp in armes, must bee tamde with 
whippes, not swords, and these mutiners in Church matters, must haue 
their mouthes bungd with iests, not arguments. 

I seldome vse to write, and yet neuer writ anie thing, that in speech 25 
might seeme vndecent, or in sense vnhonest ; if here I haue vsed bad 
tearmes, it is because they are not to bee answered with good tearmes : 
for whatsoeuer shall seeme lauish in this Pamphlet, let it be thought 
borrowed of Martins language. These Martins were hatcht of addle 
egges, els could they not haue such idle heads. They measure con- 30 
science by their owne yard, and like the theeues, that had an yron bed, 
in which all that were too long they would cut euen, all that were too 
short they would stretch out, and none escapte vnrackt or vnsawed, that 
were not iust of their beds length : so all that are not Martins^ that is, of 
their peeuish mind, must be measured by them. If he come short of 35 
their religion, why he is but a colde Protestant, hee must bee pluckt out to 


the length of a Puritane. If any be more deuout than they are, as to giue 
almesy fast, and pray, then they cut him off close by the workes, and say 
he is a Papist. If one be not cast in Martins mould, his religion must 
needes mould. He saith he is a Courtier, I thinke no Courtier so per- 
5 uerse, that seeing the streight rule of the Church, would goe about to 
bend it It may be he is some lester about the Court, and of that I mer- 
uaile, because I know all the fooles there, and yet cannot gesse at him. 
What euer he be, if his conscience be pind to his cognizance, I will 
account him more politicke than religious, and more dangerous for ciuill 

10 broyles, than the Spaniard for an open warre. I am ignorant oi Martin 
and his maintainer, but my conscience is my warrant, to care for neither. 
For I knowe there is none of honour so carelesse, nor any in zeale so 
peeuish, nor of nature any so barbarous, that wil succor those that be 
suckers of the Church, a thing against God and i>olicie ; against God, in 

15 subuerting religion ; against policie, in altering gouemment, making in 
the Church, the feast of the Lapithees^ where all shall bee throwne on 
anothers head, because euerie one would be the head. And these it is 
high time to tread vnder foote : for who would not make a threshold of 
those, that go about to make the Church a bame to thresh in. Itaque sic 

ao disputo. 



Good morrow, g^oodman Martin^ good morrow : will ye anie mosique 
this morning ? What fast a sleepe ? Nay faith, lie cramp thee till I wake 
thee. O whose tat f Nay gesse olde knaue and odd knaue : for He neoer 
leaue pulling, til I haue thee out of thy bed into the streete ; and then all 
shall see who thou art, and thou know what I am. 5 

Your Knaueship brake your fast on the Bishops, by breaking your 
iests on them : but take heed you breake not your owne necke. Bastard 
Junior dinde vpon them, and cramde his maw as full of mallice, as hb 
head was of malapertnesse. Bastard Senior was with them at supper, and 
I thinke tooke a surfet of colde and raw quipps. O what queasie girds 10 
were they towards the fall of the leafe. Old Martin^ neuer entaile thy wit 
to the eldest, for hee*le spend all he hath in a quire of paper. 

Now sirs, knowing your bellies full of Bishops bobbs, I am sure your 
bones would be at rest : but wee'le set vp all our rests, to make you all 
restie. I was once determined to write a proper newe Ballet, entituled 15 
Martin and his Maukiny to no tune, because Martin was out of all tune. 
^^' Eiderton swore hee had rimes lying a steepe in ale, which shoulde marre 

his tnazJr ^ ^^^^ reasons : there is an olde hacker that shall take order for to print 
that he will them. O how heele cut it, when his ballets come out of the lungs of the 
make their licour. They shall bee better than those of Bonner^ or the ierkes for m 
shod if the ^ ^^^it. The first begins, Come tit me come tat me, come throw a halter 
ale haue at me. 

his swift Then I thought to touch Martin with Logick, but there was a little 
wag in Cambridge^ that swore by Saint Seaton^ he would so swinge him 
with Sillogismes, that all Martins answeres should ake. The vile boy '5 
hath manie bobbes, and a whole fardle of fallacies. He begins, 
Unquo coax ranis, cros coruis, vanaque vanis. 
Ad Logicam fiergo, qua Martinis non timet ergo. 
And sales, he will ergo Martin into an ague. 1 haue read but one of his 

arguments. V^ 

Tibume stands in the cold, 

But Martins are a warme furrei 

Therefore Tibume must be furd with 


O (quoth I) boy thou wilt be shamed ; tis neither in moode nor figure : 35 

6 70a BC 2*1 cros] qy, t cnxfor corax {ic6pa^) a8 Mart'ins AB : Martins C 


all the better, for I am in a moode to cast a figure, that shall bring them 
to the conclusion. I laught at the boye, and left him drawing all the 
lines of Martin into sillogismes, euerie conclusion beeing this, Ergo 
Martin is to bee hangd. 
5 Nay, if rime and reason bee both forestalde, He rayle, if Martin haue 
not barrelde vp all rakehell words : if he haue, what care I to knocke him 
on the head with his owne hatchet. He hath taken vp all the words for 
his obscenitie : obscenitie ? Naie, now I am too nice, squinilitie were 
a better word : well, let me alone to squirrell them. 

10 Martin^ thinkst thou thou hast so good a wit, as none can outwrangle 
thee ? Yes Martin^ wee will play three a vies wits : art thou so backt 
that none dare blade it with thee ? Yes Martin^ we will drop vie stabbes. 
Martin sweares I am some gamester. Why, is not gaming lawfid? 
I know where there is more play in the compasse of an Hospitall, than 

15 in the circuite of Westchester. One hath been an old stabber at passage : 
the One that I meane, thrust a knife into ones thigh at Cambridge^ the 
quarrel was about cater-tray, and euer since hee hath quarrelled about 

I thought that hee which thrust at the bodie in game, would one day 

30 cast a foyne at the soule in earnest. But hee workes doselie and sees 
all, hee leamd that of old Vidgin the cobler, who wrought ten yeares 
with spectacles, and yet swore he could see through a dicker of leather. 
He hath a wanton spleene, but wee will haue it stroakt with a spume, 
because his eyes are bleard, hee thinkes to bleare all ours ; but let him 

35 take this for a warning, or else looke for such a warming, as shall make 
all his deuices as like wood, as his spittle is like woodsere. Take away 
the Sacke, and giue him some Cinamom water, his conscience hath 
a colde stomacke. Cold? Thou art deceiued, twil digest a Cathedral 
Church as easilie, as an Estritch a two penie naile. 

30 But softe Martins^ did your Father die at the Groyne ? It was well 
groapt at, for I knewe him sicke of a paine in the groyne. A pockes of 
that religion, (quoth Julian Grimes to her Father) when al his haires fell 
off on the sodaine. Well let the olde knaue be dead. Whie are not the 
spawnes of such a dog-fish hangd ? Hang a spawne ? drowne it ; alls 

35 one, damne it. 

Ye like not a Bishops rochet, when all your fathers hankerchers were 
made of his sweete harts smocke. That made you bastards, and your 
dad a cuckold, whose head is swolne so big, that he had neede sende to 
the cooper to make him a biggin : and now you talke of a cooper. He tell 

40 you a tale of a tubb. 

At Sudburie^ where the Martin-mogers swarmd to a lecture, like beares 
to a honnie pot : a good honest strippling, of the age of fiftie yeares or 

34 all if ^ 


thereabout, that could baue done a worse act if companie had not beeo 

neere, askt his sweete sister, whether lecherie in her conscience were 

a sinne? In faith (quoth she) I thinke it the superficies of sinne, and no 

harme if the tearmes be not abusde : for you must say, vertuously done, 

not lustily done. Fie, this is filthie ribaldry. O sir, ther is no miithS 

without ribaldrie, nor ribaldrie without Martin, ask mine hostesse of the 

iuie bush in Wye for the one, & my old hostesse of the Swanne m 

Wanvicke for the other. She is dead : the diuell shee is. You are too 

broad with Martins brood : for hee hath a hundred thousand that will 

set their handes to his Articles, and shewe the Queene. Sweeter and le 

luy are sweeter: for wee haue twentie hundred thousand handes to withstand 

^ ^^ J, them. 1 would it were come to the grasp, we would show them an Irish 

re ail tricke, that when they thinke to winne the game with one roan, wee'le 

tntimani, make them holde out till wee haue but two left to carrie them to the 

J^ gallowes : wel followed in faith, for thou saidst thou wcrt a gamester. 15 

*ece : so All this is but bad English, when wilt thou come to a stile ? Mea^in 

to/ in all hath manie good words. Manie ? Now you put me in minde of the 

^^^ matter, there is a booke c5ming out of a hundred merrie tales, and the 
ti one " 

\(msand. petigree of Martin, fetchte from the burning of Sodome, his armes shalbe 

set on his hearse, for we are prouiding his funerall, and for the winter so 
nights the tales shall be told secundum vsum Sarum: the Deane of 
Salisburie can tell twentie. If this will not make Martin mad, malicious 
and melancholie (6 braue letter followed with a full crie) then will we be 
desperate, & hire one that shall so translate you out of French into 
English, that you will blush and lie by it. And one will we coniure vp, 15 
that writing a familiar Epistle about the naturall causes of an Earthquake, 
fell into the bowells of libelling, which made his eares quake for feare of 
clipping, he shall tickle you with taunts ; all his works bound close, are 
at least sixe sheetes in quarto, & he calls them the first tome of his 
familiar Epistle : he is full of latin endes, and worth tenne of those that 30 
crie in London, haie ye anie gold ends to sell. If he giue you a bob, 
though he drawe no bloud, yet are you sure of a rap with a bable. If 
he ioyne with vs, periisti Martin, thy wit will be massacred : if the toy 
take him to close with thee, then haue I my wish, for this tenne yeres 
haue I lookt to lambacke him. Nay he is a mad lad, and such a one as 35 
cares as little for writing without wit, as Martin doth for writing without 
honestie; a notable coach companion for Martin, to drawe Diuinitie 
from the CoUedges of Oxford and Cambridge, to Shoomakers hall in 
Sainct Martins, But we neither feare Martin, nor the foot cloth, nor the 
• beast that weares it, be he horse or asse ; nor whose sonne he is, be he 40 
Martins^ sonne, Johns, sonne, or Richards, sonne ; nor of what occupa- 
tion hee be, be a sbip-wright, cart-wright, or tibum-wright If they 

59 Sainct AB : Saincts C 


bring seauen hundred men, they shall be boxt 'with.fourteene hundred 
boyes. Nay we are growing to a secret bargaine. O, but I forgate 
a riddle ; the more it is sfded^ the lesse it is seene. Thats the Sunne : 
the lesse it is spied of vs, the more it is seene of those vnder vs. The 
5 Sunne ? Thou art an asse, it is the Father, for the old knaue, thinking 
by his bastardie to couer his owne heade, putteth it like a stagge ouer 
the pale. Pale ? nay I will make him blush as red as ones nose, that was 
alwaies washt in well water. 
What newes from the Heraldes ? Tush, thats time enough to know to 

10 morrow, for the sermon is not yet cast. The sermon foole? why they 
neuer studie, but cleaue to Christ his dabitur in ilia hora. They venter 
to catch soules, as they were soles ; Doctors are but dunces, none sowes 
true stitches in a pulpet, but a shoomaker. 

Faith, thou wilt bee caught by the stile. What care I to be found by Martin lu- 

15 a stile, when so many Martins haue been taken vnder an hedge ? If they »«"' sates ^ 
cannot leuell, they will roue at thee, and anatomize thy life from the j^snuthers 
cradle to the graue, and thy bodie from the come on thy toe, to the papers vn- 
crochet on thy head. They bee as cunning in cutting vp an honest mans ^ ^ hush^ 
credit, as Bull in quartering a knaues bodie. Tush, (what care 1) is my ^^^^ started 

to posie ; if hee meddle with mee. He make his braines so hot, that they /rd his 
shall crumble and rattle in his warpt scull, like pepper in a dride bladder, ^^ourme. 

1 haue a catalogue of al the sheepe, and it shal goe hard, but I wil 
crosse the bel-weather. Why shuld I feare him that walkes on his neats- 
feete. Neither court, nor countrie that shalbe free, I am like death. He 

35 spare none. There shall not misse a name of any, that had a Godfather; 
if anie bee vnchristened, lie nicke him with a name. 

But whist ; beware an action of the case. Then put this for the case, 
whether it bee not as lawful to set downe the facts of knaues, as for 
a knaue to slander honest men. Alls as it is taken ; marie the diuell take 

30 al, if truth find not as many soft cushions to leane on, as trecherie. 

Theres one with a lame wit, which will not weare a foure comerd cap, 
then let him put on Tibume, that hath but three comers; & yet the 
knaue himselfe hath a pretie wench in euerie comer. 

I could tickle Martin with a true tale of one of his sonnes, that hauing He calls 

35 the companie of one of his sisters in the open fieldes, saide, hee woulde nonebutthe 
not smoother vp sinne, and deale in hugger mugger against his Con- ^^^^^se 
science. In the hundred merrie tales, the places, the times, the witnesses 
and all, shall be put downe to the proofe, where I warrant you, the 
Martinists haue consciences of proofe. Doost think Martin^ thou canst 

40 not be discouered ? What foole would not thinke him discouered that is 
balde ? Put on your night cap, and your holie day English, and the best 
wit you haue for high daies, all wil be little enough to keep you from 

39 Doest A 


a knaues penance, though as yet you be in a fooles paradice. If yoa 
coyne words, as Cankerburie^ CanterbitrineSy &c. whie, I know a foole 
that shall so inkhomize you with straunge phrases, that you shall blush 
at your owne bodges. For Similes, theres another shal liken thee to 
anie thing, besides he can raile too. If Martin muzzle not his mouth, < 
and manacle his hands, He blabb all, and not sticke to tell, that pewes 
and stewes are rime in their religion. 

Scratch not thy head Martin^ for be thou Martin the bird, or Martin 
the beast ; a bird with the longest bill, or a beast with the long^est eares, 
theres a net spread for your necke. Martin^ He tell thee a tale wooith n 
twelue pence, if thy witt bee woorth a pennie. 

There came to a Duke in Italie^ a large lubber and a beggerlie, saying 
hee had the Philosophers Stone, and that hee could make golde faster, 
than the Duke could spend it ; The Duke askt him, why hee made ncme 
to mainteine himself? Because, quoth he, I could neuer get a secret i5 
place to worke in ; for once I indeuoured, and the Popes holinesse sent 
for me, whom if he had caught, I should haue been a prentice to main* 
teine his pride. The Duke minding to make triall of his cunning, & eager 
of golde, set him to worke closely in a vault, where it was not knowen 
to his neerest seruaunts. This Alcumist, in short time consumed two so 
thousande pound of the Dukes gold, and brought him halfe a Ducket : 
whie (quoth the Duke) is this all ? All quoth he my Lord, that I could 
make by Art. Wei said the Duke, then shalt thou see my cunning : for 
I will boyle thee, straine thee, and then drie thee, so that of a lubber, that 
weighed three hundred weight, I will at last make a dram of knaues '5 
powder. The Duke did it. 

Martin^ if thou to couscn haue crept into the bosome of some great 
mc, saying thou hast the churches discipline, & that thou canst by thy 
faction & pollicie, pull down Bishops and set vp Elders, bring the lands 
of the Clergy, into the cofers of the Temporaltie, and repaire Religion, 30 
by impayring their liuings, it may bee, thou shalt bee hearkened too, 
stroakt on the head, greasd in the hand, fed daintelie, kept secretlie, and 
countenaunst mightelie. But when they perceiue, that all thy deuices 
bee but Chymeraes^ monsters of thine owne imaginations, so farre from 
Martin^ pulling downe a Cathedrall Church, that they cannot remooue a comer 55 
teiner are ®^ ^ square cap, the will they deale with thee, as the Duke did with the 
both sowers Alcumist, giue thee as many bobs on the eare, as thou hast eaten morsek 
^fj^^^\ of their meate, and make thee an example of sedition to be pointed at, 
stands in ^^^ ^^ "°^ ^ mewde vp, that none can point where thou art All this 
the pit, all tale, with the application, was not of my penning, but found among loose 40 
the ^^^ papers ; marie he that did it, dares stand to it. Now, because I haue 
in hueies nothing to doo betweene this and supper, lie tell you another tale, and 
but he shal so begin Winter by time. 
^'^^^ 19 to him B 33 perceine B 

the boards. 


There was a libeller, who was also a coniurer, so that whatsoeuer 

casting of figures there was, he deceiued them ; at the last, one as 

cunning as himself, shewed, wher he sate writing in a fooles coate, & 

so he was caught and whipt. Martin, there are figures a flinging, & ten 

5 to one thou wilt be found sitting in a Knaues skinne, and so be hangd. 

Hollow there, giue me the beard I wore yesterday. O beware of a gray 

beard, and a balde head : for if such a one doo but nod, it is right dudgin 

and deepe discretion. But soft, I must now make a graue speach. 

There is small difference between Swallowes & Martins^ either in 

10 shape or nature, saue onely, that the Martins, haue a more beetle head, 
they both breed in Churches, and hauing fledgde their young ones, leaue 
nothing behind them but durt. Vnworthie to come into the Church 
porch, or to be nourished vnder anie good mans eues, that gnawe the 
bowels, in which they were bred, and defile the place, in which they were 

15 ingendred. 

They studie to pull downe Bishopps, and set vp Superintendents, which 
is nothing else, but to raze out good Greeke, 8c enterline bad Latine, 
A fine period ; but I cannot continue this stile, let me fal into my olde 
vaine. O doost remember, howe that Bastard Junior complaines of 

ao brothells, and talkes of long Megg of Westminster, A craflie iacke, you 
thoght because you twitted Mar-martin, that none would suspect you ; 
yes faith Martin, you shall bee thresht with your owne flaile. 

It was one of your neast, that writt this for a loue letter, to as honest Het 
a woma as euer burnt malt. Grace, mercie, and peace to thee (O widow) j^^j^ 

25 witkferucnt motions of the spirit, that it may worke in thee both to wilt stiil lien at 
and to doo. Thou knowest my loue to thee is, as Paules was to the Corinth as 
Corinthians ; that is, the loue of copulation. ^ V 

How now holie Martin, is this good wooing ? If you prophane the 
Scriptures, it is a pretie wit ; if we but alledge Doctors to exi>ound them, 

30 wee are wicked. \i Martin oppresse his neighbor, why hee saith, it is 
his conscience; if anie else doo right, it is extremitie. Martin may 
better goe into a brothell house, then anie other go by it ; he slides into 
a bad place like the Sunne, all others stick in it like pitch. If Martin 
speake broad bawdrie, why all the crue sales, your worship is passing 

35 merrie. Martin will not sweare, but with indeede, in sooth, & in truth, 

hee*le cogge the die of deceipt, and cutte at the bumme-carde of his 

conscience. O sweetelie brought in, at least three figures in that line, 

besides, the wit ant. 

One there was, and such a one as Martin would make the eldest of 

40 his Elders, that hauing fortie angels sent him for a beneuolence, refusde 
to giue the poore fellowe a quittance for the receipt, saying, Christ had 
giuen his master a quittance, the same howre he told it out : & this was at 

36 dye A 
D d 2 


his tabic, where he sate with no lesse than fortic good dishes of the greatest 
dainties, in more pompe than a Pope, right like a superintendant. 

Now to the two bastards, what were you twins ? It shuld seeme sOb 
for there wet but a paire of sheres betweene your knaueries. When the 
old henne hatcht such eggs, the diuel was in the cocks comb. Yours 
father thrusts you forward, remember pettie Martins Aesops crab, the 
mother going backward, exhorted her sonnes to goe forward ; doo yoo 
so first mother quoth they, and we will follow. Now the old cuckold 
hath puld in his homes, he would make you creepe deane out of the 
shell, & so both loose your houses, and shewe your nakednesse. You go i« 
about impossibilities, weie no such chage, and if yee had it, yee would 
be wearie of it. 

There was a man like Martin^ that had a goose, which euerie date laid 
him a golden egge ; hee not content with the blessing, kild his goose, 
thinking to haue a mine of golde in her bellie, and finding nothing bat 15 
dung, the g§der wisht his goose aliue. Martinists that Hue well by the 
Church, & receiue great benefites of it, thinke if all Churches were downe, 
they should be much better, but when they shall see cofusion in stead of 
discipline, & atheisme to be found in place of doctrine, will they not with 
sighs wish the Churches and Bishops in their wonted gouemmet ? Thou so 
art well seen in tales, & preachest Aesops fables. Tush, He bring in 
Pueriles, and Sians puer ad mensam, for such vnmannerlie knaues as 
Martin, must bee set againe to their A.B.C. and leame to spell Our 
Father in a Home booke. Martin Junior giues warning that none write 
against reuerent Martin : yes, there are a tribus ad centum^ from three 25 
to an hudred, that haue vowed to write him out of his right wittes, and 
we are all Aptots^ in all cases alike, til we haue brought Martin to the 
ablatiue case, that is, to bee taken away with Bulls voider. 

O here were a notable full point, to kaue Martin in the hangmans 
apron. Nay, he would be glad to scape with hanging, weele first haue 30 
him lashte through the Realm e with cordes, that when hee comes to the 
gallowes, he may be bleeding new. 

The babie comes in with Nunka, Neame, and Dad: (Pappe with an 
hatchet for such a puppie) giue the infant a bibbe, he all to beslauers his 
mother tongue, if he driuell so at the mouth and nose, weele haue him 35 
wipte with a hempen wispe. Huif How often hast thou talkt of haltring ? 
Whie it runnes still in my minde that they must bee hangd. Hangde is 
the Que, and it comes iust to my purpose. 

There was one endited at a laile deliuerie of felonie, for taking vp ap 
halter by the high way. The lurie gaue verdit and said guiltie. The 40 
Judge an honest man, said it was hard to find one guiltie for taking vp 
a penie halter, and bad them consider, what it was to cast awaie a man. 

34 Mantin B 35 Nnncka A 


Quoth the foreman, we haue enquired throughly, and found there was 
a horse tied to the halter. I marie (quoth the Judge) then let him be 
tied to the halter, and let the horse goe home. Martin^ a Monarch in 
his owne moyst conceit, and drie counsell, saies he is enuied onelie, 
5 because he leuelleth at Bishops ; & we say as the Judge saith, that if 
there were nothing else, it were hard to persecute them to death ; but 
when we finde that to the rule of the Church, the whole state of the 
Realme is linckt, & that they filching away Bishop by Bishop, seeke to 
fish for the Crown, and glew to their newe Church their owne conclusions, 

to we must then say, let Bishops stand, & they hang ; that is, goe home. 
Looke howe manie tales are in this booke, so manie must you abate of 
an hundred in the next booke, reckon this for one. 

There came by of late a good honest Minister, with a cloake hauing 
sleeues : ah (quoth a Martinist, sitting on a bulke in Cheapside) he is 

15 a knaue I warrant you, a claspe would become one of his coate to claspe 

his cloak vnder his chinne. Where tis to be noted, that they come in 

with a sleeuelesse conscience, and thinke it no good doctrine, which is 

not preached with the cloak cast ouer each shoulder like a rippier. 

Twas a mad knaue and a Martinist, that diuided his sermon into 

ao 34. parts for memorie sake, and would handle but foure for memorie sake, 
and they were, why Christ came, wherefore Christ came, for what cause 
Christ came, and to what end Christ came; this was all for memorie 
sake. If that Martin could thatch vp his Church, this mans scabship 
should bee an Elder, and Elders they may bee, which being fullest of 

35 spungie pith, proue euer the driest kixes. For in time you shall see, 
that it is but a bladder of worldlie winde which swells in their hearts, 
being once prickt, the humour will quicklie be remoued. O what a braue 
state of the Church it would be for all Ecclesiasticall causes to come 
before Weauers and Wierdrawers, to see one in a motlie lerkin and an 

30 apron to reade the first lesson. The poore Church should play at vnequal 
game, for it should loose al by the Elder hand. Nay Mas Martin, weele 
make you deale, shuffle as well as you can, we meane to cut it. 

If you had the foddring of the sheep, you would make the Church like 
Primero, foure religions in it, and nere one like another. I cannot out 

35 of this gaming humour. Why ? Is it not as good as Martins dogged 
humour, who without reuerence, regard, or exception, vseth such vnfitting 
tearmes, as were hee the greatest subiect in England hee could not iustifie 

Shut the doores (sirs) or giue mc my skimmer, Martins mouth hath 

40 sod vnskimde these twelue months, and now it runnes ouer ; yet let him 
alone, he makes but porredge for the diuell. 

His Elderberrines though it be naught woorth, yet is it like an elder- 

2 I (marie quoth A 39 Wierdawers BC 55 this A : his BC 39 had B 


berrie, which being at the ripencs of a perfect black, yet brused staioes 
ones hands like bloud. They pretending grauitie in the rottennes of their 
zeale, bee they once wrung, you shall finde them lighter than featben. 
Thats a simile for the slaues. Nay, He touch them deeper, and make 
them crie, O my heart, there is a false knaue among vs. f 

Take awaie this beard, and giue mee a pikede vaunt, Martin sweaucs 
by his ten bones : nay, I will make him mumpe, mow, and chatter, Uke 
old lohn of Paris garden before I leaue him. 

If Martin will fight Citie fight, wee challenge him at all weapons, from 
the taylors bodkin to the watchmans browne bil. If a field may beta 
pitcht, we are readie : if they scratch, wee will bring cattes : if scolde, 
we will bring women : if multiplie words, we will bring fooles : if they 
floute, we will bring quippes : if dispute the matter, we will brii^ 
schollers : if they buffet, wee will bring fists. Deus boney what a number 
of we will brings be here ? Nay, we will bring Bull to hang them. 13 
A good note & signe of good lucke, three times motion of Bu/L Modon 
oi Built Why, next olde Rosses motion of Bridewell, Buls motion fits 
them best. Tria sequuntur tria^ in reckoning Bull thrice, meethinkes 
it should presage hanging. O bad application ; Bad ? I doo not thinke 
there can be a better, than to applie a knaues necke to an halter. Martin >o 
can not start, I am his shadowe, one parte of the dale before him, another 
behinde him ; I can chalke a knaue on his backe thrice a weeke. He let 
him bloud in the combe. 

Take heed, he will pistle thee. Pistle me ? Then haue I a pestle so 
to stampe his pistles, that He beate all his wit to powder. What will 25 
the powder of Martins wit be good for ? Marie blow vp a dram of it 
into the nostrels of a good Protestant, it will make him giddie ; but if 
you minister it like Tobacco to a Puritane, it will make him as mad as 
a Martin, 

Goe to, a hatch before the doore, Martin smels thee, and wil not feare 30 
thee ; thou knowest how he deales with the Archbishop and a Counsellor, 
hee will name thee and that broadlie. Name me ? Mary, he and his 
shall bee namefied, that's it I thirst after, that name to name, and knowing 
one another, wee may in the streetes grapple ; wee except none : wee 
come with a verse in our mouthes, courage in our hearts, and weapons 35 
in our hands, and crie 

Discite iustitiam moniti^ 6r* non temnere diuos, 

Martins conscience hath a periwig ; therefore to good men he is more 
sower than wig : a Lemman will make his conscience curd like a Posset 
Now comes a biting speach, let mee stroake my beard thrice like a 40 
Germain, before I speak a wise word. 

Martin^ wee are now following after thee with hue and crie, & are hard 

4 smile A 


at thy heeles ; if thou tume backe to blade it, wee doubt not but three 
honest men shall bee able to beate sixe theeues. Weele teach thee to 
commit sacriledge, and to robbe the Church of xxiiij. Bishops at a blowe. 
Doost thinke that wee are not men Martin^ and haue great men to 
5 defend vs which write ? Yes, although with thy seditious cloase, thou 
would'st perswade her Maiestie, that most of the Gentlemen of account 
and men of honour, were by vs thought Puritanes. No, it is your poorc 
lohns, that with your painted consciences haue coloured the religion 
of diuers, spreading through the veynes of the Commonwealth like poyson, 
10 the doggednes of your deuotions ; which entring in like the smoothnes of 
oyle into the flesh, fretteth in time like quicksiluer into the bones. 

When children play with their meate, tis a signe their bellies are full, 
& it must be taken away from them ; but if they tread it vnder their feete, 
they ought to be ierkt. The Gospell hath made vs wantons, wee dallie 
15 with Ceremonies, dispute of circumstances, not remembring that the 
Papists haue been making roddes for vs this thirtie yeares; wee shall 
bee swing'd by them, or worse by Martin^ if Martins bee worse. Neuer 
if it, for they bee worse with a witnesse, and let the diuell be witnesse. 
Wee are so nice, that the Cap is a beame in our Church, the booke 
ao of Common Praier a milstone, the PcUer nosier is not well pend by Christ. 
Well, either religion is but policie, or policie scarce religious. 

If a Gentleman riding by the way with twentie men, a number of 

theeues should by deuise or force binde all his seruants ; the good lustice 

of Peace would thinke he should bee robd. When Martinists rancke 

35 robbers of the Church shall binde the legges and armes of the Church, 

me thinkes the supreme head of the Church should looke pale. 

They that pull downe the bells of a steeple, and say it is conscience, 
will blow vp the chauncell to make it the quintessence of conscience. 
Bir Ladie, this is a good settled speech, a Diuine might haue seemd to 
30 haue said so much. O sir, I am not al tales, and riddles, and rimes, 
and iestes, thats but my Liripoope, if Martin knock the bone he shall 
find marrow, & if he looke for none, we'le knock the bone on his pate, 
and bring him on his marie bones. 

I haue yet but giuen them a fillip on the conceipt, He fell it to the 
35 ground hereafter. Nay, if they make their consciences stretch like 
chiuerell in the raine. He make them crumple like parchment in the fire. 

I haue an excellent balme to cure anie that is bitten with Martin mad-dog. 

I am worth twentie Pistle-penners ; let them but chafe my penne, & 
it shal sweat out a whole realme of paper, or make the odious to the 
40 whole Realme. 

O but be not partial, giue them their due though they were diuels, so 
will I, and excuse them for taking anie money at interest. 

4 Doest A 17 Martin] Martins A 30 not] nor B 



shewed at 
Paules, it 
will cost 
pence: at 
the Theater 
at Sctinct 
Thomas a 

LibeU, and 

There is a good Ladie that lent one of these Martinists Ibrtie pounds^ 
and when at the dale shee required her money, Martin began to stonne, 
and said, he thought her not the child of God, for they must lend, looking 
for nothing againe, and so to acquite himselfe of the blot of vsurie, he 
kepte the principall. « 

These Martins make the Scriptures a Scriueners shop to drawe am- 
ueyances, and the common pleas of Westminster to take forfeitons. 
Theyle not sticke to outlaw a mans soule, and seme it presently with 
an execution of damnation, if one denie them to lie with his neighboais 
wife. If they bee drunke, they say, they haue Timothie his weaken 
stomacke, which Saint Paule willeth to warme with wine. 

They haue sifted the holie Bible, and left vs nothing as they say, bat 
branne ; they haue boulted it ouer againe and againe, and got themselues 
the fine meale ; tis meale indeede, for with their wresting and shuffling 
holie Writ, they finde all themselues good meales, and stand at liuerie 15 
as it were, at other mens tables. 

Sed heus tu, die sodeSy will they not bee discouraged for the common 
players ? Would those Comedies might be allowed to be plaid that are 
pend, and then I am sure he would be decyphered, and so perhaps dis- 
couraged, so 

He shall not bee brought in as whilom he was, and yet verie well, with 
a cocks combe, an apes face, a wolfs bellie, cats clawes, &c. but in 
a cap'de cloake, and all the best apparell he ware the highest day in the 
yeare, thats neither on Christmas daie. Good fridaie, Easter dale. Ascen- 
sion, nor Trinitie sundaie, (for that were popish) but on some rainie as 
wecke daie, when the brothers and sisters had appointed a match for 
particular praiers, a thing as bad at the least as Auricular confession. 

A stage plaier, though he bee but a cobler by occupation, yet his 
chance may bee to play the Kings part. Martin^ of what calling so euer 
he be, can play nothing but the knaues part, qui tantum constans im 30 
knauitate sua est, » 

Would it not bee a fine Tragedie, when Mardocheus shall play a 
Bishoppe in a Play, and Martin Hamman^ and that he that seekes to 
pull downe those that are set in authoritie aboue him, should be hoysted 
vpon a tree aboue all other. 35 

Though he play least in sight now, yet we hope to see him stride from 
Aldgate to Ludgate, and looke ouer all the Citie at London Bridge. Soft 
swift, he is no traytor. Yes, if it bee treason to encourage the Commons 
against the chiefe of the Clergie, to make a gcnerail reuolt from the 
goucmment so wel established, so wisely maintained, and so long 40 

Because they say, Aue Cascxr^ therefore they meane nothing against 
Csesar. There may bee hidden vnder their long gownes, short daggers, 
and so in blearing Csesars eyes, conspire Caesars death. God saue the 


Queene ; why it is the Que which they take from the mouthes of all you shall 
traytors, who though they bee throughly conuinced, both by proofe and p^^ceiue 
their owne confessions, yet at the last gaspe they crie, God saue the abUtoUach 
Queene. GOD saue the Queene (say I) out of their hands, in whose Gracchus 
5 hearts (long may the Queene thus goueme) is not engrauen. ^.^^*/^' 

Her sacred Maiestie hath this thirtie yeares, with a setled and princelie 
temper swayed the Scepter of this Realme, with no lesse content of her 
subiects, than wonder of the world. GOD hath blessed her gouem- 
ment, more by miracle tha by counsaile, and yet by counsaile as much 

10 as can come from policie. Of a State taking such deepe roote, as to be 
fastened by the prouidence of God, the vertue of the Prince, the wise- 
dome of Counsellers, the obedience of subiects, and the length of time ; 
who would goe about to shake the lowest bough, that feeles in his con- 
science but the least blessing. Heere is a fit roome to squese them 

15 with an Apothegme. 

There was an aged man that liued in a well ordered Common-wealth 
by the space of threescore yeares, and finding at the length that by the 
heate of some mens braines, and the warmnes of other mens bloud, that 
newe alterations were in hammering, and that it grewe to such an height, 

20 that all the desperate & discontented persons were readie to runne their 
heads against their head ; comming into the midst of these mutiners, 
cried as loude as his yeares would allow ; Springalls and vnripened 
youthes, whose wisedomes are yet in the blade, when this snowe shall ^ 

be melted (laying his hand on his siluer haires) then shal you find store 

25 of durt, and rather wish for the continuance of a long frost, than the 
comming of an vntimely thaw. He moralize this. 

He warrant the good old man meant, that when the ancient gouem- 
ment of the state should be altered by faction, or newe lawes brought 
in that were deuised by nice heads, that there should followe a foule and 

30 slipperie managing ; where if happelie most did not fall, yet all would 
bee tired. A settled raigne is not like glasse mettal, to be blowne in 
bignesse, length or fashion of euerie mans breath, and breaking to be 
melted againe, & so blowne afresh ; but it is compared to the fastning 
of the Cedar, that knitteth it selfe with such wreaths into the earth, that 

35 it cannot be remooued by any violent force of the aire. 

Martin^ I haue taken an inuentorie of al thy vnciuill and rakehell 
tearmes, and could sute them in no place but in Bedlam and Bridewell, 
so mad they are, and so bad they are, and yet all proceedes of the spirit 
I thinke thou art possest with the spirites of lacke Straw & the Black- 

40 smith, who, so they might rent in peeces the gouemment, they would 
drawe cuts for religion. 

If all be conscience, let conscience bee the foundation of your building, 

3 sane B 


not the glasse, shew effects of conscience, mildnesse in spirit, obedience 
to Magistrates, loue to thy brethren. Stitch charitie to thy faith, or rip 
faith from thy works. 

If thou wilt deale soberlie without scoifes, thou shalt be answered 
grauely without iests, yea and of those, whom thou canst not controll ki j 
learning, nor accuse for ill life, nor shouldst contemne for authoride. 
But if like a restie lade thou wilt take the bitt in thy mouth, and then 
runne ouer hedge and ditch, thou shalt be broke as Prosper broke his 
horses, with a muzroule, portmouth, and a martingall, and so haue thy 
head runne against a stone wall. n 

If thou refuse learning, and sticke to libelling ; if nothing come out 
of those lauish lips, but taunts not without bittemesse, yet without wit ; 
rayling not without spite, yet without cause, then giue me thy hand, thoa 
and I will trie it out at the cuckingstoole. He make thee to forget 
Bishops English, and weep Irish ; next hanging there is no better reuenge 15 
on Martin^ than to make him crie for anger ; for there is no more sulleo 
beast, than a he drab. He make him pull his powting croscloath ouer his 
beetle browes for melancholie, and then my next booke, shall be Martin 
in his mubble fubbles. 

Here I was writing Finis and Funis, and determined to lay it by, till 10 
I might see more knauerie filde in : within a while appeared olde Martin 
with a wit worn into the socket, twinkling and pinking like the snuffe of 
a candle ; quantum mutatus ab illo, how vnlike the knaue hee was before, 
not for malice but for sharpnesse. 

The hogshead was euen come to the hauncing, and nothing could be 35 
dra^ne from him but dregs : yet the emptie caske sounds lowder than 
when it was ful ; and protests more in his waining, than he could per- 
forme in his waxing. I drew neere the sillie soule, whom I found 
quiuering in two sheetes of protestation paper. O how meager and leane 
hee lookt, so creast falne, that his combe hung downe to his bill, and 30 
had I not been sure it was the picture of enuie, I shoulde haue swonie 
it had been the image of death, so like the verie Anatomie of mischiefe, 
that one might see through all the ribbes of his conscience, 1 began 
to crosse my selfe, and was readie to say the Pater noster^ but that 
1 knewe he carde not for it, and so vsed no other wordes, but 4M in 35 
maiam cruceipi^ because I knewe, that lookt for him. 1 came so neere, 
that I could feele a substantiall knaue from a sprites shadowe. 

I sawe through his paper coffin, that it was but a cosening corse, and 
one that had learned of the holie maid of Kent, to lie in a trance, before 

6 anthoritie A : anthorie BC 33 it bad been the image . . . No more 

did one of his minions (/. 411 /. 35) this portion^ representing tht whole offoL E 
in the original quarto^ is missing from A 


he had brought foorth his lie; drawing his mouth awrie, that could 
neuer speake right ; goggling with his eyes that watred with strong wine ; 
licking his lips, and gaping, as though he should loose his childes nose, 
if he had not his longing to swallowe Churches ; and swelling in the 
5 paunch, as though he had been in labour of a little babie, no bigger than 
rebellion ; but Truth was at the Bishops trauaile : so that Martin was 
deliuered by sedition, which pulls the monster with yron from the beastes 
bowells. When I perceiued that hee masked in his rayling robes, I was 
so bolde as to pull off his shrowding sheete, that all the world might see 

ID the olde foole daunce naked. 

Tis not a peniwoorth of protestation that can buy thy pardon, nor al 
worth a penie that thou proclaimest. Martin comes in with bloud, bloud, 
as though hee should bee a martir. Martins are bad martirs, some of 
them burnt seauen yeares agoe, and yet aliue. One of them lately at 

15 Yorke^ pulling out his napkin to wipe his mouth after a lie, let drop 
a surgeans caliuer at his foote where he stood ; these fellowes can abide 
no pompe, and yet you see they cannot be without a little squirting plate : 
rub no more, the curtail wrinches. 

They call the Bishops butchers, 1 like the Metaphore wel, such calues 

ao must be knockt on the head, and who fitter than the Fathers of the 
Church, to cut the throates of heresies in the Church. Nay, whe they 
haue no propertie of sheepe but bea, their fleece for flockes, not cloath, 
their rotten flesh for no dish, but ditches ; I thinke them woorth neither 
the tarring nor the telling, but for their scabbednes to bee thrust from 

35 the pinfolde to the scaffold, and with an Habeas corpus to remooue them 
from the Shepheards tarre-boxe, to the hangmans budget. 

I but he hath sillogismes in pike sauce, and arguments that haue been 
these twentie yeres in pickle. I, picke hell, you shall not finde such 
reasons, they bee all in celar^t, and dare not shewe their heads, for wee 

30 will answere them in ferio and cut their combes. So say they, their 
bloud is sought. Their bloud ? What should wee doo with it, when 
it will make a dogge haue the toothach to eate the puddings. 

Martin tunes his pipe to the lamentable note of Ora whine meg, O tis 
his best daunce next shaking of the sheetes ; but hee good man meant 

35 no harme by it. No more did one of his minions, that thinking to rap out an 

oath and sweare by his conscience, mistooke the word and swore by his 

concupiscence ; not vnlike the theefe, that in stead of God speede, sayd 

stand, and so tooke a purse for Grod morowe. 

Yet dooth Martin hope that all her Maiesties best subiects will become 

40 Martinists ; a blister of that tongue as bigge as a drummes head ; for if 
the Queenes Maiestie haue such abiects for her best subiects, let all true 
subiects be accompted abiects. 

38 for a God morowe A 


They that teare the boughs, will hew at the tree, and faauing once wet 
their feete in factions, will not care how deepe they wade in treason. 

After Martin had racked ouer his protestation with a lades pace; 
hee runnes ouer his fooleries with a knaues gallop, ripping^ vp the 
souterlie seames of his Epistle, botching in such frize iestes vppon fustioB \ 
earnest, that one seeing all sortes of his shreddes, would thinke he bad 
robd a taylors shop boord ; and then hee concludes all doggedlie, with 
Doctor Bullens dogge Springs not remembring that there is not a better 
Spanniell in England to spring a couie of queanes than Martin, 

Hee sliues one, has a fling at another, a long tale of his talboothe, of » 
a vulnerall sermon, and of a fooles head in souce. This is the Epistle 
which be woonders at himselfe, and like an olde Ape hugges the Vrchin 
so in his conceipt, as though it should shew vs some new tricks ouer the 
chaine : neuer wish it published Martin, we pitie it before it comes out. 
Tmsse vp thy packet of flim flams, & roage to some Countrey Faire, or 15 
read it among boyes in the belfrie, neuer trouble the church with chatter- 
ing ; but if like dawes, you will be cawing about Churches, build your 
nests in the steeple, defile not the quier. 

Martin writes merely, because (hee saies) people arc carried away 
sooner with iest than earnest. 1, but Martin, neuer put Religion into 20 
a fooles coate ; there is great oddes betweene a Gospeller, and a libeller. 

If thy vain bee so pleasant, and thy wit so nimble, that all consists in 
glicks and girds ; pen some playe for the Theater, write some ballads for 
blinde Dauid and his boy, deuise some iestes, & become another Scogen ; 
so shalt thou haue vent inough for all thy vanities, thy Printer shall pur- '5 
chase, and all other iesters beg. 

For to giue thee thy due, thou art the best dyed foole in graine that 
euer was, and all other fooles lacke manie graines, to make them so 

There is not such a mad foole in Bedlam, nor such a baudie foole in ^ 
Bridewell, nor such a dronken foole in the stockes, nor such a scolding 
foole on the cucking-stooie, nor such a cosening foole on the pillerie, nor 
such a roaging foole in the houses of correction, nor such a simple foole 
kept of alms, nor such a lame foole lying in the spittle, nor in all the 
world, such a foole, alL Nay for fooles set down in the scriptures, none 3: 
such as Martin. 

What athebt more foole, that saies in his heart, There is no Godf 
What foole more proud, that stands in his own coceit ? What foole more 
couetous than he, that seekes to tedd abroad the Churches goods with 
a forke, and scratch it to himselfe with a rake. 4( 

Thou seest Martin, with a little helpe, to the foure & twentie orders 
of knaues, thou maist solder the foure and twentie orders of fooles, and 

3 bad] hath A 37 died AB 33 foole*] foale C 


so because thou saist thou art vnmarried, thou maist commit matri- 
monie, from the heires of whose incest, wee will say that which you 
cannot abide, Good Lord deliuer vs. 

If this veyne bleede but sixe ounces more, I shall proue a pretie railer, 

5 and so in time may growe to bee a proper Martinist. Tush, I doo but 

licke ouer my pamphlet, like a Beares whelpe, to bring it in some forme ; 

by that time hee replies, it will haue clawes and teeth, and then let him 

looke to bee scratcht and bitten too. 

Thou seest Martin Moldwarpe, that hetherto I haue named none, but 

ID markt them readie for the next market : if thou proceed in naming, be 

as sure as thy shirt to thy knaues skinne, that He name such, as though 

thou canst not blush, because thou art past shame, yet they shall bee 

sorie, because they are not all without grace. 

Pasquil is comming out with the Hues of the Saints. Beware my Com- 

1 5 ment, tis odds the margent shall bee as full as the text I haue manie 

sequences of Saints ; if naming be the aduantage, & ripping vp of liues 

make sport, haue with thee knuckle deepe, it shall neuer bee said that 

I dare not venter mine eares, where Martin hazards his necke. 

Now me thinkcs Martin begins to stretch himselfe like an old fencer, 

20 with a great conscience for buckler, and a long tohgue for a sword. * Lie 

close, you old cutter at the locke. Nam mihi sunt vires, &* mea tela nocent, 

Tis ods but that I shall thrust thee through the buckler into the brain, 

that is through the conscience into the wit. 

If thou sue me for a double maime, I care not though the lurie allow 
35 thee treble damages, it cannot amount to much, because thy coscience is 
without wit, and thy wit without conscience, & therefore both, not worth 
a penie. 

Therefore take this for the first venew, of a yonger brother, that 

meanes to drie beate those of the Elder house. Martin, this is my last 

30 straine for this fleech of mirth. I began with God morrowe, and bid 

you God night. I must tune my fiddle, and fetch some more rozen, that 

it maie squeake out Martins Matachine. 


Candidissimi Lee tores, peto tenninum ad libellandum. 

35 Lectores. 

Assignamus in proximum, 

3-3 you cannot AB : thou cannot C 20 for a buckler A 









(i) A \ Whip for an Ape: \ Or\ Martin displaied, \ Ordo Sactrdotum fatuo 
turbatur ab omni^ \ Labitur et passim Rtligionis honos. \ ^°, black letter, 
4 leaves, paged. No date. Brit. Mus, (press-mark C. 37. d. 4a) ; Lambeth 
Palace Library, 

(3) Rythvies against Martin Mar re- Prelate. \ Ordo Sacerdotum fatuo turbatur 
ab omni^ \ Labitur et passim Religionis honos, \\ No date. Bodleian 
(where it appears bound between Mar-Martini and Marre- Mar-Martin), 

(3) Reprinted from (a) in D'Israeli's Quarrels of Authors, Lond. 1814, post 8vo, 

vol. iii. pp. a7i-a8a. 

(4) Reprinted from (i) in 77ie Bibliographical Miscellany , No. 5, March ao*"* 

1854, with a note or two by Edward F. Rimbault. 

The present is a reprint of the first edition, collated with the second. 


This lampoon, the best of the Anti- Martini st rhymes, has been claimed 
for both Lyly and Nash, to the latter of whom I preferred, until just 
lately, to assign it ^ Its date is fixed as about April, 1589, (i) by the 
allusion of the penultimate stanza to the Martinist tract Hay any work 
for Cooper f which was issued about March 23, 1589 (see Depositions 
against Robert Waldegrave, HarL MS, 7042, pp. i-ii, quoted in Arber's 
Jntrod. Sketch to the Controversy, p. 125) ; (2) by the following men- 
tion of it in Martinis Months Minde (the date of which is fixed by its 
allusion to Cottntercuffe^ itself dated Aug. 8), where (sig. E 3 verso) Nash 
recounts as successive sufferings of Martin that he was 'drie beaten 
(marginal note, * T. C. ') then whipt that made him winse ' (marg. note, 
* A whip for an Ape '), then * made a Maygame vpon the Stage * (marg. 
note, * The Theater '), * and at length cleane Marde ' (marg. note, * Marre- 
martin *). Points that seem to suggest Lyly's authorship are the words 
in Richard Harvey's dedication of Plaine Perciual, * to all Whip lohns 
and Whip lackes'; and, internally, the use of the expression ^sweares by 

* See vol. i. p. 57 footnote. 


his ten bones ' of the Ape (st. 4), as of Martin in Pappe^ p. 406 L 7 ; the 
uncommon form * rent ' (as present tense) for * rend ' (st. 12), as in Pappe^ 
p. 409 1. 40 and elsewhere in Lyly (cf. Glossary) ; the mention of * Bride- 
well and Bedlem * together (line 41) in connexion with Martin's railing 
(cf. Pappcy p. 409 1. 37, 412 1. 30) ; the allusion to 'Scoggins iests,' L 56 
(cf. Pappe^ p. 412 1. 24) ; the assertion that the interests of Church and 
Crown are bound up together, 11. 79-84 (cf. Papfie, p. 405 11. 7 sqq. ' to 
the rule of the Church, the whole state of the Realme is linckt, & that 
they filching away Bishop by Bishop, seeke to fish for the Crown,' and 
pp. 408 11. 37 sqq., 412 11. 1-2) ; and the comparison of Martin to Jack 
Straw, 1. 89 (cf. Pappe, p. 409 1. 39). These points, it is true, are not con- 
clusive, since Pappe^ written towards the end of September (pp. 410, 392), 
may have borrowed from A Whip ; and the Anti-Martinist partnership 
would favour an interchange of suggestion, especially in work which 
ignored art. Moreover the allusions to the stage in stanias i, 6, 8 and 
9 would suit Nash as well as Lyly : his pamphlets have the same argu- 
ment about the power of the Cro>^'n being endangered with that of the 
bishops, and the same charge against the Martinists of aiming at the 
destruction of the Universities, 1. 'jZ (cf. Countercuffe^ sig. A iij recto, 
ironically exhorting Martin Junior * Downe with learning and Vniuer- 
sities *) : while in Martinis Months Minde, besides the allusion already 
quoted, we get (sig. H 3) the following comment on 1. 138 : * because one 
saith that your workes should go the way of all wast writings you giue 
him his owne word againe and make him groome of a close stoole.' 
But my recent identification of a large quantity of poor verse as Lyiy's 
(see Introd. to Poems below, and cf. especially the Certaine Verses of 1586, 
pp. 427-32 and Note on them vol. i. pp. 401-2) much lessens the hesita- 
tion I previously felt in attributing to him such work as the Whip, One 
should remember, too, that it does not aim at poetry ; and, while I find 
nothing which quite warrants the withdrawal of the epithet ' doubtful,' 
I now incline to his authorship rather than to that of Nash, and also to 
his authorship of such portions of Mar-Martine as I print below, the 
rest being possibly by Nash (cf. vol. i. pp. 387-8). 

D'Israeli (Quarrels of Authors^ 18 14, vol. iii. 269) says of the Whip: 
* It is an admirable political satire against a mob-government. In our 
poetical history this specimen too is curious, for it will show that the 
stanza in alternate rhymes, usu^y denominated Elegiac, is adapted to 
very opposite themes. The solemnity of the versification is impressive, 
and the satire equally dignified and keen.' This is much too high 
praise ; but there is interest in the manner of the vehicle's adaptation 
to its purpose of social or political satire, to which the closing couplet 
gives an edge. It reminds me of the early production of William Basse 
in the same metre, entitled Sword and Bvckler : or Serving-Mans 
Defence^ 1 602. 

Whip for an Ape: 

Martin difplaied. 

Or do Sue tr do turn fituo turbaturai omiii, 
l^iturS^ fajfim Keliaioaa hcnoi. 


(Sig. A a Since reason (Martin) cannot stay thy pen, 

«cto) We'll sec what rime will doo: haue at thee then. 

A Dizard late skipt out vpon our Stage ; 
"^^ But in a sacke, that no man might him s^: 
And though we knowe not yet the paltrie page, 
Himselfe hath Martin made his name to b^e. 
A proper name, and for his feates most fit; 5 

The only thing wherein he hath shew'd wit. 

Who knoweth not, that Apes men Martins call ; 

Which beast this baggage seemes as t'were himselfe : 
So as both nature, nurture, name and all. 

Of that*s expressed in this apish elfe. 10 

Which lie make good to Martin Marr-als face 
In thr^ plaine poynts, and will not bate an ace. 

For first the Ape delights with moppes and mowes. 
And mocketh Prince and peasants all alike: 

This iesting Jacke that no good manner knowes, 15 

With his Asse h^les presumes all States to strike. 

Whose scoifes so stinking in each nose doth smell, 

As all mouthes saie of dolts he beares the bell. 

Sometimes his choppes doo walke in poynts too hie, 
Wherein the Ape himselfe a Woodcocke tries : 20 

Sometimes with fioutes he drawes his mouth awrie, 
And sweares by his ten bones, and falselie lies. 

Wherefore be what he will I do not passe. 

He is the paltriest Ape that euer was. 

Such flaring, luring, iarring fooles bop^pe ; 25 

Such hahaes, t^hdes, w^h6es, wild colts play : 

Such sohoes, whoopes and hallo wes, hold and kdepe ; 
Such rangings, ragings, reuelings, roysters ray. 

With so foule mouth, and knaue at euery catch, 

Tis some knaues neast did surely Martin hatch. 30 

19 Chappes in Bodleian copy 


Now out he runnes with Cuckowe king of May, <Sig. a a v. 

Then in he leapes with a wild Morrice daunce ; *^ ^^ 

Now strikes he vp Dame Lawsens lustie lay; 

Then comes Sir Jeffries ale tub tapde by chaunce : 
Which makes me gesse, (and I can shrewdly smell) 35 

He ]oues both t'one and t'other passing well. 

Then straight as though he were distracted quite, 

He chafeth like a cutpurse layd in Warde ; 
And rudely railes with all his maine and might, 

Against both Knights and Lords without regarde: 40 

So as Bridewell must tame his dronken fits, 
And Bedlem heipe to bring him to his wits. 

But Martifiy why in matters of such waight 

Doest thou thus play the Dawe and dancing foole ? 
O sir (quoth he) this is a pleasant baite 45 

For men of sorts, to traine them to my schoole. 
Ye noble States how can you like hereof, 
A shamelesse Ape at your sage heads should scofTe? 

Good Nod die now leaue scribling in such matters, 
They are no tooles for fooles to tend vnto; 5^ 

Wise men regard not what mad Monckies patters ; 
Twere trim a beast should teach men what to do. 

Now TarletofCs dead the Consort lackes a vice : 

For knaue and foole thou maist beare pricke and price. 

The sacred sect and perfect pure precise, 55 

Whose cause must be by Scoggins iests maintainde, 
Ye shewe although that purple Apes disguise. 

Yet Apes (ye) are still, and so must be disdainde. 
For though your Lyons lookes weake eyes escapes 
Your babling bookes bewraies you all for Apes. 60 

The next poynt is. Apes vse to tosse and teare 

What once their fidling fingers fasten on; 
And clime aloft and cast downe euery where. 

And neuer stales till all that stands be gon. 
Now whether this in Martin be not true, 65 

You wiser heads marke here what doth ensue. 

What is it not that Martin doth not rent ? <Sig. A 3 

Cappes, Tippets, Gownes, blacke Chiuers, Rotchets white; ^c*c> 

Communion bookes, and Homelies, yea so bent 
To teare, as womens wimples feele his spite. 70 

Thus tearing all, as all Apes vse to doo; 

He teares withall the Church of Christ in twa 

EC a 


Marke now what things he meanes to tumble downe, 
For to this poynt to looke is worth the while, 

In one that makes no choyce twixt Cap and Crowne; 75 

Cathedral! Churches he would faine vntile, 

And snatch vp Bishops lands, and catch away 

All gaine of learning for his prouling pray. 

And thinke you not he will pull downe at length 
Aswell the top from tower, as Cocke from staple? 80 

And when his head hath gotten some more strength, 
To play with Prince as now he doth with people? 

Yes, he that now saith. Why should Bishops b6e? 

Will next crie out. Why Kings? The Saincts are Me. 

The Germaine Boores with Clergie men began, 85 

But neuer left till Prince and Pderes were dead : 

lacke Leydon was a holie zealous man. 
But ceast not till the Crowne was on his head. 

And Martins mate lacke Strawe would alwaies ring 

The Clergies faults, but sought to kill the King. 90 

Oh that quoth Martin chwere a Noble man! 

A vaunt vile villaine: tis not for such swads. 
And of the Counsell too ; Marke Princes then : 

These roomes are raught at by these lustie lads. 
For Apes must climbe, and neuer stay their wit, 95 

Untill on top of highest hilles they sit. 

What meane they els, in euery towne to craue 
Their Priest and King like Christ himselfe to be? 

And for one Pope ten thousand Popes to haue. 
And to controU the highest he or she? 100 

Aske Scotland that, whose King so long they crost 

As he was like his Kingdome to haue lost. 

Beware ye States and Nobles of this land, 
(Sig. A 3 The Cleigie is but one of these mens buts : 

Paee 6> '^^^ ^P^ ^^ ^^ ^° masters necke will stand : 105 

Then %t%%<t betime these gaping greedie guts. 
Least that too soone, and then too late ye feele. 
He strikes at head that first began with heele. 

The third tricke is, what Apes by flattering waies 

Cannot come by, with biting they will snatch : I xo 

Our Martin makes no bones, but plainlie saies, 
Their fists shall walke, they will both bite and scratch. 

He'il make their hearts to ake, and will not faile, 

Where pen cannot, their penknife shall preuaile. 

114 their Q\ qy,t theie 


But this is false, he saith he did but mocke: 115 

A foole he was that so his words did scan. 
He only ment with pen their pates to knocke: 

A knaue he is, that so tumes cat in pan. 
But Martin sweare and stare as d^pe as hell, 
Thy sprite thy spite and mischeoous mind doth tell. 120 

The thing that neither Pope with Booke nor Bull, 

Nor Spanish King with ships could do without, 
Our Martins here at home will worke at full; 

If Prince curbe not betimes that rabble rout. 
That is, destroy both Church, and State, and all ; 125 

For if t'one faile, the other n^edes must fall. 

Thou England then whom God doth make so glad, 

Through Gospels grace and Princes prudent raigne : 
Take heede least thou at last be made as sad. 

Through Martins makebates marring, to thy paine: 130 

For he marres all, and maketh nought, nor will, 
Saue lyes and strife, and workes for Englands ilL 

And ye graue men that answere Martins mowes, 

He mockes the more, and you in vaine loose times: 
Leaue Apes to dogges to baite, their skins to crowes, 135 

And let old Lanam lash him with his rimes. 
The beast is proud when men wey his enditings: 
Let his worke go the wale of all wast writings. 

Now Martin, you that say you will spawne out <Sig.A 4 r. 

Your broyling brattes in euery towne to dwell ; 140 *• 7> 

Wde will prouide in each place for your route 

A bell and whippe, that Apes do loue so welL 
And if ye skippe and will not wey the checke, 
We'll haue a springe and catch you by the necke. 

And so adiew mad Martin marre the land, 145 

Leaue off thy worke, and more worke, hear*st thou me ? 

Thy work's nought worth, take better worke in hand: 
Thou marr'st thy worke, & thy worke will marre th^ 

Worke not a newe, least it doth worke thy wracke. 

And thpu make worke for him that worke doth lacke. 150 

135 Leaae] Leaaes Q Ij8 D'lsroili rtprimting the 'IVhip* in the 

* Quarrels of Authors * reads vast : hut NasKs comptent on the tine in * Martinis 
Months Minde^ sig. H 3 verso ^ shows wast (t. #. waste) to be right 


And this I warne th^ Martins Monckies face, 
Take h^ed of me, my rime doth charme thee bad : 

I am a rimer of the Irish race, 
And haue alreadie rimde th^e staring mad. 

But if thou ceasest not thy bald iests still to spread, 155 

He neuer leaue, till I haue rimde th^ dead. 



I know not why a trueth in rime set out 
Maie not as wel mar Martine and his mates. 
As shamelesse lies in prose-books cast about 
MarpriestSy & prelates, and subvert whole states. 

For where truth builds, and lying overthroes, 

One truth in rime, is worth ten lies in prose ^. 

L(oRDES) of our land, and makers of our Lawes, (Tide- 

Long may yee Hue, Lawes many may you make, T0reo> 

This careful, kind, and country-louing clawse, 
As from a faithfiill friend, vouchsafe to take : 
Martine the merry, who now is Mar-prelate^ 5 

Will proue madde Martine^ and Martine mar-the-state. 

The wind doth first send forth a whistling sound. 

Then fierce, and fearefiill, hollow, thundering threates. 

At length it riues the earth and rents the ground 

And tumbles townes and citties from their seates, lo 

So he who first did laughing libells send, . 

Will at the last procure a wreakefull end. {Fdems, 

Women are woed to follow men precise 

Young boies without experience hold thif Gods, 

Yea some for gaine, who are both olde and wise: 15 

Thus merrie Martine sets the world at ods. 

The frozen snake for colde that cannot creepe 

Restorde to strength a stinging stur will keepe. 

Let neighbour-nations leame vs to beware. 
Let harmes at home teach vs for to take heede ; 20 

When Browne and Barrowe haue done what they dare. 
Their hellish Hidraes heades will spring with speede : 

^ Undated, 4<>, 4 leaves, cropped — ^no sigs. remaining. The several rhymes are nn- 
nombeied, withont beamng or signature, and smrated only by a line across tibe 
page. Press-mark Br. Mns. 9<S. b. 15 (i) ; and 7aa. g. ao (wanting first leaf). 




{£upk. ii. 
17a I as) 

Such men as Martine caused all these woes: 
This poison still encreaseth as it goes. 

Somewhat I hearde, and mickle haue I seene 
It were too long to tell your Lordships what : 
Somewhat I knowe, and somewhat haue I beene, 
Yet this I saie, and this is also flat 
Bridle the coltish mouth of Male-part 
Or else his hoofe will hurte both head and hart. 

AngUa Martinis farce favere malis. 



{on verso 
of 3rd leaf) 



(There follows (2) another rhyme in 16 6-line stanzas of shorter lines, 
(3) ten stanzas in Scotch dialect in the old 14-syllable rhymes of Golding 
and Phaer, and then) 


O England gemme of Europe, Angells land, 

Blest for thy gospell, people, prince, and all, 

And all through peace, let Martins vnderstand 

The hony of thy peace, abhorre their gall. 35 

Martins f what kind of creatures mought those bee ? 
Birds, beasts, men. Angels, Feends? Nay worse say we. 
The feendes spake faire sometimes and honor gaue, 
Curse and contempt is all that Martins haue. 






England if yet thou art to leame thy spell, 
Leame other things, such doctrine is for hell. 

What favor would these Martins f Shall I say 
As other birds wherwith yong children play. 
Let them be cagd, and hempseed be their food 
Hempseed the only meate to feede this broode. 
Disdaime these monsters, take them not for thine. 
Hell was their wombe, and hell must be their shiyne. 

Many would know the holy Asse, 

And who mought Martin been, 
Plucke but the footecloth from his backe, 

The Asse will soone be seene. 

My Lordes wise wittall Martins thinkey 

Your Lordships flie to hie: 
Keepe on your flight aloft as yet, 

Lest Martins come too nie. 






For were your winges a little dipt. 

They soone would plucke the rest: 
And then the place too high for you. 

Would be pure Martins nest. 

(Then follow four other short rhymes in the same ballad metre.) 

O') (on recto 

Wei maist thou marke but neuer canst thou marre, 60 ®*4tnicw> 

This present state whereat thou so doost storme: 

Nor they that thee vphold to make this iarre, 

And would forsooth our English lawes deforme. 
Then be thou but Marke-prelate as thou art : 
Thou canst not marre though thou wouldst swelt thy hart. 65 


In Ammons land pretended Repkaims dwelt, Dm. a. ao 

That termd them-selues Reformers of the state, 
These like Zanzummins^ and Deformers dealte, 
Among the people stirring vp debate. 

But when their vilenes, was espied and knowen: 70 

From Ammons land this Gyants broode, was throwen. 
Our England, that for vnitie hath beene, 
A glasse for Europe^ hath such monsters bread. 
That raile at Prelats, and oppugne their Queene, 
Whole common wealthes, each beareth in his head. 75 

These Rephcdmsy for so the(y) would be deemd : 

Are nothing lesse, then that they most haue seemd. 
Then if we loue the gouemement of peace. 
Which true Reformers from aboue maintaine, 
And forraine force could never make it cease, 80 

Nor these Deformers, can with vices staine: 

First let vs finde pretended Rephaims rowte, 

And like Zansummins^ let vs cast them out. 

Martin had much a farther reach, then enery man can gesse, 
Hee might haue cald himselfe Mar-preest, that hath bene somewhat lesse, 
But seeking all to overthrowe, what ever high might be: 86 

Mar-prelate he did call himselfe, a foe to high d^^ree. 

(The fourteenth rhyme, of four lines, has lost a line or two, being at 
bottom of page.) 

(15) (onversd 

If any mervaile at the man, and doe desire to see ^ ^ ^ 

The stile and phrase of Martins booke : come leame it here of mee. 


Holde my cloke boy, chill haue a vling at Martin^ O the boore ; 90 
And if his horseplay like him well, of such he shall haue store. 
He thus bumfeges his bousing mates, and who is Martins mate? 
O that the steale-counters were knoune, chood catch them by the pate. 
ThVnsauorie snufies first iesting booke, though clownish, knauish was : 
But keeping still one stile, he prooues a sodden headed asse. 95 

Beare with his ingramnesse a while, his seasoned wainscot face: 
That brought that godly Cobler ClifTe, for to disproue his grace. 

But (O) that Godly cobler ClifTe, as honest an olde lad, 

As Martin (O the libeller) of hangbyes ever had. 

If I berime thy worshipnes, as thou beliest thy betters: 100 

For railing, see which of vs two shall be the greatest getters. 

But if in flinging at such states, thy noddle be no slower : 

Thy brother hangman will thee make, be pulde three asses lower. 

Then mend these manners Martin^ or in spite of Martins nose : 

My rithme shall be as dogrell, as vnleamed is thy prose. 105 

These tinkers termes, and barbers iestes first Tarleton on the stage. 
Then Martin in hb bookes of lies, hath put in euery page : 
The common sort of simple swads, I can their state but pitie : 
That will vouchsafe, or deygne to laugh, at libelles so vnwittie. 
Let Martin thinke some pen as badde, some head to be as knavish : 
Soome tongue to be as glibbe as his, some rayling all as lavish, iii 
And be content : if not, because we know not where to finde thee : 
We hope to se thee where deserts of treason haue assigned thee. 

Cast of thy doake and shriue thy selfe, in doake-bagge, as is meete : 
Wkip^ 1. And leaue thy flinging at the preest, as lades doe with their feete. 
^7) The Preest must Hue, the Bishop guide: 116 

To teach thee how to leaue thy pride. 


If Martin dy by hangmans hands, as he deserues no lesse. 
This Epitaph must be engravde, his maners to expresse. 
Here hangs knaue Martine a traitrous Libeler he was 120 

Enemie pretended but in hart a friend to the Papa^ 
'hisbodg Now made meat to the birdes that about his carkas are hagling. 
kTxTi*^ Z^ofw^ by his example yee route of Pruritan Asses, 

^^ Not to resist the doings of our most gratious Hester, 

Martin is hangd (^f)or the Master of al Hypocritical hangbies . . . 

{It is uncertain whether one or more lines followed, for the pamphlet 
has been mutilated in the binding, or before, both at top, bottom, and 


108 their] there Q 



Verses^ presented vnto 

tiie SXutentfi moist excellent ^aientie, t; a Cour 

tier : In ioy of the most happie disclosing, of the most dan- 

geroMi consfhraciu pretended hy the Ute executed Trat" 

toursy against her reyaU person, and 

the whole Estate, 


printer's dkvice. 


Printed by Hentie Haslop, and are to bee 

soid in PauUs Chnrch-yard at the 
signe of the Bible 

* 4°, four leaves, A-A4., verso of tide blank, no col. For che occasion of these 
verses, of Lyly's authorship of which the verification of the references I have 
inserted at 11. ij, xi, 71, 108, 113-4 will, I think, leave no doubt, see vol. i. 
p. 401. 


In Saphk verse of lubiles. 

caniaU D<h 
mino^ &* iU' 
Jttcob. PstU, 

mino in 
Citkara iu- 

ClangiU iu- 
bam^ tumiu 
psaimiky ^ 
panum cum 


imptosb^ CO- 















eBtbuura iu^ 

T F DA VID daunst for ioy before the Arke being a king 

If Barac sang when Israels foes were foild, 
Then victors wee that Deboras song may sing 
Our ludiih stout Holofernes Mates hath spoild. 

If Rome of Romane Triumphes earst was oft so glad 5 

and likewise Greece of Grecians Trophes ioyed : 
If lewes of Jubilees their onlie mirth haue had 

then England leap, and laugh aloud for Queene enioyd. 

Now Baal and Bell, now Titanes sonnes are slaine, 
their Prophets false their wicked Priests are kild 10 

Their Pluto howles that Babels brood are taen, 
their Tower did fall that Nimrods Imps did build. 

Sith Nessus brood and Cassius crue are knowen 
like Siluane Centaures conspirde your Realme to quaile, 14 

Take courage Queene, for Sinon sleights abroad are blowen, (^w^iii 
the Traitours found, and yet the treasons faile. LqT 

These Cicloppes seede which at your crowne doe kicke 
and frame a forme to make your kingdome bleed, 

Like Giants seeke with stones the starres to strike 
but mist the marke and wound themselues in deed : 20 

They vowd Zopirus vowes, to please Darius beck iBupk,iL 

they sought a new deuise which Sphinx of Rome the taught, 97L 30) 

They £aine would finde, that England had one neck, 
that by a stroke the head might off they sought— 

Their match was made, their wager was not wonne, 25 

their snares were laid, but yet their purpose mist, 

Their day decreed, and yet the deed not done, 
a will they had you see, that wanted what they wis(h)t. 

What thought Pyragmons sprats to doe, we know, 
their Romish lesabell Naboths vineyard sought, 30 

39 Pyragmons sprats Qi t. e, PyracnunCs broody a variation on These Cicloppes 
seetie o/st. 5. Cf, vol, ii. 554 



Who like Medusa bends her cursed Bow 
the onlie CirceSy which hath this mischief wrought. 

These vipers tend with Briareus hundred hands, 
with hundred Argus eies these Scorpions wait, 

These busie Basilisks and brood of Cocatrice stands 
like Nilus Crocodiles hungrie for their bait. 

These sucking serpents, these monstrous snakish crewe, 
these blooddie Dragons like spiteful Asps are set, 

With Hidras heads which erst Alcides slue 
are now of late with our Bellona mette. 

Of Canaan faine they would a Ch<ws make, 
and bring Palladium in, our Ilion to deface, 

A spoile for Hispatne, a feat for Fraunce in hand they take 
and quite to make an end of Brutus race. 



bum auibus 
cali, Psal.7g. 

Deus vltio- 



CaUidu ex- 
consiliu con* 
tra dofHtnu, 
Psal. la 2. 

fif. 79. 

Thus these climing mates Enceiadus like attempt, 45 Viaimpio- 

in armes seeke loue from skies by force to take, SSwof*!^- 

They seeke the Sun, the Moone, the Starres in great contempt ^^^"^' 

to obscure their light a deadlie Edips to make. Prou.\. 

They seeke with Phaaton Phoebus charge to rest, 
Vulcans net, Gordian knot they would vnknit 

And breake their blooddie blades on Pallas breast, 
thus they couet much in Moses chaire to sit. 

To wrest from Hercules hand his Club, who can ? 

who may from loue^ his lightning take by force? 
Homers verse, who can disgrace? I say no man, 

who then can touch a sacred Princes coarse. 

Though Casar was in Senate slaine by Brute his friend, 
Though Cirus head was bathd in blood luke warme, 

No maruaile though, for blood requireth blood at thend 
but mercie too much thine, I feare doth harme, 

For if Laban was for lacob sake so blest, 
and Putiphats hap, by Josephs meane no lesse 

Our hap, our blisse, our ioyes wherein we rest, 
For whom it is, we must of force confesse. 

Who with lonas gourd hath sau'de vs from the Sunne, 
Who with Aser shoes, hath kept vs from the mire ? 

Who hath with Dauids sling Golias mates vndone. 
our Cynthia^ she who hath appeas'd lehouas ire. 


S§pi txpug" 
nautrut m4 
mta nunc 
ih'cai JsratL 
I^al, lag. 








T(Bgm€H a 
turbin* 6* 
imm a6 atiu 
Dtus. ils. 
ZZT. 4.) 

40 meete Q 

50 Gordions Q 

65 gurth Q 



anitmi tnta 

^uniiota dig^ 

Pont tos 
eb'banufH ig' 
nis^ in tetn- 

A ptricuUs 







nun a* dis- 
ntiUt 9agit' 
illas. Psai. 

signik caSia 
esi Babium^ 

orum bistijs 
runt. PtaJ. 

Ctmaii suni 
priuart nu 
anin%a mta. 



malUy nu 




tuc, I^al 91. 

Non Mi con- 
tiim ndc 

These on Bellerephom horse do ride in skie, 

with Icarus wings to dime in cloudes is their drift. 

These would make Archtias woodden Doue to flie, 
What blinde Tiresias doth not see their shift. 

In Phatonissa schoole, at Endor they were taught, 
with Dracos ink to write, with Creons seale to signe. 

With ludas kisse to kill, with Hamons haue they sought, 
both ludaes spoyle, and Sions fall in fine. 

These secret Satires^ these cruell Cateiins wait, 
these dogs of Moabs house greadie of their pray. 

Like Eumenides whelpes tending on their bait, 
Vultures for Prometheus guts readie set in ray. 

They ventured Acherontas depth to wade, 
they striued through Stigias streame to saile, 

M auger of Megeras head away they made, 
by Carons help, Elisius field to assaile. 

To make spotted Ewes with Jacobs stick they sought, 
to walke vnseene, with Giges ring faine they would 

Of Simon Magus these men would faine be taught, 
like Curres by Circes charm'd to be with Lions bold. 

Circes cup is faine, Calipsos sauce is shed 
Bedims brood is bar(e)d, their Harpies are descried, 

Cerberus soppes are found. Sirens songs are red 
Thus is Accaron knowen, and Romane Idoll tried. 

Their drinke is blood, their bread is humane fiesh, 
Consuls heads with Preachers tongues their food, & what 

Is their daintiest dish? Princes harts I gesse, 
Thus like Basan Bulles, they feed their Pope with fat. 

But time decreed, how long should Assur liue, 
and God foretolde, when Pharaoes life should end, 

To take thy life the man of sinne doth striue, 
in vaine O Queene, when Angels thee defend. 

Could lomis in the raging Seas be drownd? 

could Lions Daniel in their Dennes deuoure? 
Might Misael bume in fine furnace bound ? 

durst Traitours blade attempt our sacred Princes bowre? 

A blast of winde made Th*assirians hoast to fiie. 
Earthen pots made Madianites to take their flight. 

Homes threw lerichoes wall fiat on ground to be, 
God makes Flies, Frogs, Rats and Lice, for him to fight. 

7a Teresias Q 77 seccet Q 91 Cirens Q 












Cains curse, Heroda death, I wish on them to &11, 
that s«eke a sacred Prince with secret sword to kill, 

ludas death to good for ItuUu mates I call, 
who bathes in blood, and drinke of bk>od their fill. 

But Serpents neuer build in Boxe, nor breede 
' in Cipres tree, no Canker can the Emerald touch, 

Euen so these hellish Heliettei cannot feed, 
on her whose vcrtues rare amaseth mch. 

These MiHotaiirus brood from Rotiu, from CretU, 

with sword and fire, in Albton swaime like Bees 
Like Sampsons Fous with fired talks and fcetc, 

they dread no death to winne a Popish feea. 
In Rhodes was neuer seen, they say, an Eagles nest 

some hold it so, tlia(t) Crette can bleed no Owle, 
And Crowes in Athens were neuer seen at least 

that England breedes no w^ues, an error fonle. 
Cymerians blinde, that hannts Trop{hy<mitis Cane, 

could neuer bide the shining Sunne in sight. 
Who still in darknesse dwell, the light doe neuer ciaue, 

hut like Cacus Captuies shrouded aie with night 
A simple Goal could asswage god Faumis ire, 

a grunting hog conld Neplunes rage appease, 
A seelie Cocke could coole Ascuiapius fire, 

but Lions cround, the bull of Rome must please. 
His Dan and Bethel! , sacred Pantheon cald, 

bis sinagoge esieemes no Oze, no Calfe, no Btdl, 
But blood of kings in Royall seates enstald, 

wherein PeriUus part he plaies at full 
No fire in Rome could Romulus staffe consume, 

no meanes might make Idng Pyrrhus toes to bume 
But Pope with Nauius knife euer durst presume, 

with Briers and Brambles make Qcdar trees to mourn. 
But might these mates haue had but Aarons rod in band 

or could haue borrowed Elias doke no doubt. 
They had made the Seas, on both sides for to stand, 

that Fraunte and Spaine might make the slaughter ont- 
Their Dagon fell, our sacred Arke stood vp, 

their Pharaa myst, our Moses did preuaile, 
Their crosse was downe, our crowne did neuer Stoupe, 
• Their Barge did sinke, our Ship top gallant saile, 

■ rWK F—l. 


MS Qnitdrm, 


Cadani a 
suit^ quonia 
rebeills sunt 
iibi. Ptal. 5. 

cap. 17^ 
Act: cap. 5 
Ad. cap. 19 

rum. Pmlfm, 

impios ta- 
V guspkur. 

tuoa, Ptai. 


guru cmli 
qui con Um ' 





Noughtie Nabals corse on Dauid neuer fell : 

AchUophels cruel counsaile did no good 150 

to Absalon, when Absalon did rebell : 

Semei could doe no harme, when Semei God withstood. 

Elizeus bones could raise the Dead from graue, 
Peters shadowe passing by, made sicke men hole. 

Paules handkercher from death, did many saue, 155 

thus vertue deales to vertuous men her dole 

But Bulles of Rome and Beares of Hisfaine did more, 
they murther whom they will, and pardon whom they list, 

Kings from crownes depriue, and Kings to crownes restore, 
thus to shadow Casars state, the Pope hath euer wisht 160 

If DcUhan and Abiron sanke for treason wrought, 

if Assur, Pkaro so enuied Dauids seat, 
If Greekes lewes and Gentiles Ituobs starre haue sought, 

these Gorgons would Elisa faine from Crowne defeat. 

When Perseus sword shall snatch of Medusas head, 
when Mercuries whistle lulls Argos eies to sleep, 

When Phoebus faulchion kils monstrous Python dead^ 
then shall Eliza make Romane Cerberus creepe. 

Though still you beare the Oliue branch in breast, 
yet some wish you Hermes Harpen in your hand, 170 

Though you the Lambe imbrace, the Lion is your beast, 
for mercie must with iustice ioine to rule a land. 

Cleanse Augeus hall, destroy Stymphalides seede, 

your souldiers readie preast, do stand in aray. 
Thunders, hailstones, brimstone, fier, your foes shal speede 175 

Angels armd, hosts from hie, God himself will say. 

To Cuma trudge, of Sibill knowe your fates, 

to Ammons priests, at Ammons temple scrape. 
To Delpkos post, call and knock at Phoebus gates^ 

to knowe of Phcebus how traitors best may scape. 180 

No lewell, Gemme, no goulde to giue I had, 

no Indian stones, no Persean gaze in hand. 
No pearles from Pactolus to a Prince, yet glad, 

these happie Halcions dales to see in Britaine land. 


197 0. I 


160 Cesar states ^ 
factum Q 

FINIS q\ L. L. 

167 Pbsebus Q 170 i,e, &fwfjr (act.) i8a marg. 



List of Sources 



HarUian 6910: Nos. 2-5, 22, 54, 64. 
Egerton 923 : No. 59. 
Additional 15,227 : Nos. 68-73. 

n 15,232: No. 20. 

„ 22,601 : Nos. 7-12, 16, 28, 57-8. 
Rawlinson {Poetical) 85 : Nos. i, 65. 

„ „ 148: Nos. 17, 60-3. 


A Handejull of Pleasant Delites^ 1584: Nos. 18-9. 
A Banquet of Daintie Conceits^ 1588 : Nos. 13-5. 
The Phoenix Nest . . . 1593: Nos. 6, 23, 29-36. 
Englands Helicon . . . 1600 : Nos. 38-40. 
A Poetical Rapsody . . . 1602 : Nos. 41*"*. 


William Byrd's Psalmes^ Sonets^ ^ songs . 1588: No. 25. 

„ „ Songs of sundrie natures . . 1589: Nos. 26-7. 

John Dowland's First Booke of Songes or Ayres, 1597: Nos. 37, 55-6. 

„ n Second Booke „ „ „ 1600: Nos. 24, 42-3. 

„ „ Third and Lxut Booke „ 1603: No. 44. 

Thom^is Motley's Pirst Boohe of Balletis • . 1600: No. 21. 

Robert Jones* First Booke of Songes &* Ayres, 1600 : Nos. 45--J2, 

„ „ Muses Cardinfor Delights . 1610 : No. 53. 






It must have occurred to many students of the songs printed in 
Blount's Sixe Covrt Comedies— son^y every one of which, and nine 
besides, are announced, though not given in the quarto texts ; while all 
together present a general resemblance, exhibiting only two or three 
alternative manners, and a great similarity of metrical forms, a large 
proportion being dialogue-songs closely connected by their contents with 
the plot and personages of the plays —it must, I say, have occurred to 
Lylyprob- the readers of these songs, the Lylian authorship of which I see no 
ahly among sufficient reason to question, that so practised a song-writer probably 
of anon. ^®^^ much other lyrical work, which either has never yet found its way 
verse, into print, or else has appeare d anonymously. A certain proportion of such, 

confirming his title to the songs in the plays, I am now for the first time 
presenting as Lyly's, in the various Entertainments which I have shown 
to be his : but there are other possible repositories, to which the reader's 
thoughts will naturally turn, in the shape of the MS. collections, the 
Music-Books, and the successive Anthologies published during £lizabeth*s 
reign. In the MSS. poems are often variously, and generally uncertainly, 
assigned : in the Music- Books the names of the authors of the words are 
hardly ever given, partly because the composer was pre-occupied with 
his own art, partly owing to the modesty of the authors or their fashion- 
able reluctance to appear in public as poets ^ : in the Anthologies, while 
much work is signed, much is anonymous, appearing either without 

^ Puttenham writes in 1589 : < Now also of such among the Nobilitie or gentrie 
as be very well seene in many laudable sciences, and especially in making or 
Poesie, it is so come to passe that they haue no courage to write and if they haue, 
yet are they loath to be a knowen of their skill. So as I know very many notable 
Gentlemen in the Court that haue written commendably and suppressed it agayne, 
or els snffred it to be publisht without their owne names to it: as if it were 
a discredit for a Gentleman, to seeme learned, and to shew himself amorous of any 
good Art.* Arte of Poesie, Bk. i. p. 37, ed. Arber, who quotes the passage in his 
ed. of TottelVs Miscellany, p. iii. So too Robert Jones in the address to the Reader 
prefixed to his First Booke ofSonges C?* Ayres, 1600, says : * I was not vnwilUng to 
embrace the conceits of such gentlemen as were earnest to haue me apparel these 
ditties for them ; which though they intended for their priuate recreation, neuer 
meaning that they should come into the light, yet were content vpon intreaty * to 
authorize their publication, but without their names : and again, 'seeing neither my 
cold ayres, nor their idle ditties (as they will needes haue me call them) haue 
hitherto been sounded in the eares of manie,' &c. 


subscription or else with various signatures such as * Ignoto,' ' Incerto,' 
' Anonimus/ and a large proportion is subscribed with initials merely ; 
while the prefatory remarks of the editors, or the changes made in 
subsequent editions, cast some doubt upon the correctness of their 
attributions \ , The complexity of the question is not lessened by the 
g^reat similarity of manner which much of this work presents to the 
modern reader, a similarity due to the writers* working upon the same 
models and to their habit of free exchange of each others' verses : nor is 
the attempt to distinguish very inviting to one who, like myself, feels Medioiriiy 
the bulk of this Elizabethan unsigned verse as dull, artificial and ^'-*'^ 
mechanical in the last degree. Did it often exhibit the qualities it versf!' 
sometimes reveals — were there anything like a plenitude of the spirit 
shown in one or two of the pieces commonly ascribed to Raleigh, such 
as * The Lie ' ' or * Now what is loue, I praie thee tell,* of the beauty 
of *Weep ye no more, sad fountains,' in Dowland*s Third and Last 
Booke of Songs or Aires ^ 1603, or of the style apparent in * I saw my 
Lady weep ' in his Second Booke y 1600 (given below, p. 471) — the task of 
selection and distinction, if not easier, would at least be more interesting. 
But, me scilicet iudice, it does not On the contrary the bulk of it 
impresses me as joumeywork, undertaken far more in obedience to 
a fashion than to any strong emotional impulse or even to delight in 
the exercise of the poetic craft ; work put forth by men who were fighters, 
politicians, or amorists first, and poets only incidentally or because they 
believed the making of verse to be the gallant, the accomplished, or the 
gentlemanly thing to do ; work rarely touched and consecrated by the 
inexplicable, imperishable breath, and whose average standard, whether 
of inspiration or technique, is in my judgement far surpassed by the 
average of work offered in our day to an entirely indifferent public, or 
withheld in despair of any genuine access to it *. I am glad to note that 
even so ardent an Elizabethan as Mr. A. H. Bullen, without whose 
accurate and invaluable labours m this field the task I have here 
attempted would have been much more difficult, is able to recognize 

' For instance, Nicholas Ling, who seems at least to have shared with ' A. B.' in 
collecting the materials for Englands Helicon, 1600, though he states in his 
Epistle to the Reader that no name has been afiized to any poem without the 
authority of *some especial copy,' yet evidently feels that the attribution may 
sometimes be questionable, and anticipates complaints, from some that their work 
has been given to another, from others that he has violated an anonjrmity they 
¥rished preserved. In one or two cases in his volume ' Ignoto* printed on a slip 
has been pasted in so as to He over previously printed initials : while among the 
larjre number of poems attributed in Darison's Poetical Rapsody^ 1603, to * Anomos ' 
or ' Anonimos ' (identified by Sir H. Nicholas (i8a6), or by Ritson earlier, with the 
* A. W.' of Francis Darison*s own list in Harl. MS. aSo, ft. ioa-6), are four from 
which the signature is withdrawn in later editions. 

' In KawL MS. Poet. 17a, f. la, it is headed * D'. Latworthe lye to all esutcs.* 
' Publication which, however coBtly, cannot ensure a pretty general exhibition 
for sale, is no real publication. 

Ff a 


436 POEMS 

that most of the work in The Phcenix Nest^ 1593) for example, is but 
poor stuff*. 
V: {^^ charac' Now to this large body of mediocre and discreetly anonymous verse 

I believe our author was a considerable contributor, a supposition 
rendered probable by the general marks which it exhibits. Among the 
most prominent of these are 

(i) the continual strain after ingenious love-conceits, the Petrarcan 
manner naturalized by Wyatt and Surrey. 

(2) the constant habit of buttressing or illustrating an argument by 
appeal to natural phenomena, real or supposed ; an appeal that often 
leaves the reader with a feeling that the same illustration would have 
served as well to maintain the opposite, and actually invited replies in 
the same vein, which have in some cases survived: e.g. Nos. 11, 15, 18, 

41 *-', 53, 54. 

(3) a proverbial and gnomic tendency, often verging on platitude: 
e.g. Nos. 7, 15-18, 54, &C. 

(4) the use of antithesis. 

(5) the habit of summing up in a final couplet the different parts, 
actions, or feelings touched on in the preceding lines: e.g. Nos. 30, 31, 

43, 50, 63. 

(6) the' inartistic constructive trick of using the last word or words of 
one stanza or line as the starting-point of the next : e. g. the song about 
the Phcenix in Cawdray, voL i. p. 426 ; No. 36 st. 4, and, in part, Nos. 31, 
37~-a method which, though perhaps suggested by the set French forms 
of the rondeau, villanelle, &c., seems, when used apart from them, to 
negative a proper unity and preconception, and prompts the offer to 
* rhyme you so eight years together'.' 

(7) the sometimes tame finish, as though the poet were careless, or 
unable, to conceal his flagging inspiration : e. g. Nos. 6, 16, 25, 40^ 45, 
51, 58. 

(8) the occasional accommodation of grammar to the exigencies of 
rhyme and metre, a defect not always explicable by altered grammatical 
rule: e.g. Nos. 8 L 30, 15 st. 10 1. 26, 59 st. 5 1. 11. Cf. the similar use of 
an inexact word for the sake of rhyme: e.g. p. 454 1. 26 'pretence,' 
p. 458 1. 42 * surmise,* p. 476 1. 37 * all the rest,* p. 478 11. 7-8, No. 48 
St. I * prolong.* 

^ He abftodoDed the idea of reprinting that anthology, contenting himself with 
reprodudng eight aoonymons pieces, three of which, ' Those eies which set my 
fancie on a fire,' * A Coonterlone/ and * The Description of lealoosie/ are given 
below, pp. 474, 476-7, and saying ' It will be found that there it not much spicery 
left in the Nest when we have rifled it of the poems that appear in Englands Htlicon 
and in the following pages.* Lyrics frcm the Romances ^ p. zxriii. 

* In looking through my selection I find the instances rarer and more frag- 
mentary than I thought ; but this method of obtruding rather than concealing the 
incidental suggesdons that arise in course of composition, is a distinct note in the 
vene of the period. 


Of the first four of these methods, as will readily be acknowledged, are those 
Lyly is in prose the recognized high-priest. No one who has studied ^f ^y^y- 
either his novels or plays could suppose him incapable of rivalling the 
most ingenious sonneteer who ever embroidered on the eternal theme 
of love ; antithesis is the most strongly-marked of his formal or structural 
characteristics ; while natural history allusions, and proverbs, are his 
most frequent methods of adornment. Even of the last three I fear 
instances could be supplied from the songs in the Plays or the Enter- 
tainments, though those in the former, especially the earlier ones, are 
marked by a freshness and vigour, besides an ingenuity, which little that 
I print here or in the Entertainments (except the Phillida and Coridon 
song of Elvetham^ a song not certainly his) can boast. Some of the 
Entertainment songs, especially that of the Phoenix in Cowdray^ and 
Apollo*s 'My hart and tongue' and 'Hearbes, wordes and stones' in 
Sudeley, are at once very close to Lyly, and very like the generality of 
the unsigned verse 1 am discussing. Since ascertaining his authorship 
of those shows, therefore, 1 have renewed an investigation only cursorily 
performed before, and have selected from the various sources named above 
the following body of mostly unsigned verse to which 1 think he has 
considerable claims ; though there is not much of it that I print with any 
pleasure, nor very many about which I entertain no personal doubt, among 
them being that on the Bee, which 1 had decided must be his, before 
I found it definitely assigned to him in Rawlinson MS, PoeU 148 — the 
only case I know, outside the plays, of such an attribution. The body Grounds . v 
selected excludes many things that may probably be his, and some V^^oice, 
(among these) which I should have been glad to print as his, had their 
poetical merit been adequately supported in other ways. Those admitted ^ 
have been chosen on grounds of strong general likeness in subject, 
sentiment and treatment, of special likeness in phrase or diction, and 
sometimes of similar collocation of ideas or allusions \ in no case, of 
course, merely on grounds of poetical merit,— I include much that is more 
likely to injure than assist Lyly. In some cases, though I could not 
perceive, or succeed in verifying, any special likeness, I have felt the 
general likeness of tone so strong as to warrant inclusion in a ' Doubtful ' 
list, especially where a poem adjoins another in the same MS. also felt 
to be probably Lyly's. In other cases the special likenesses, which carry 
a widely varying force, may seem to be merely commonplaces of love 
or life, or allusion to some common proverb ; but this, while it weakens, 
does not destroy the argument. When a writer is perpetually harping 
on a particular sentiment, such as the unreliability of women ; when he 
is for ever citing special proverbs like that about smoke and fire, or using 
certain imagery, e.g. baits and hooks, nettles and roses, storms and 
anchors, hearts and tongues, double or single, &c., the circumstance 
^ E g. No. 18, ' A Warning for Wooers,' stanzas 4, 8, 10. 

43^ POOCS 

die reaider «S be 

bodj of Lyi/s 

laugelj to his ova faiMTiwicy wiA the 

viB be ioQud to 

p. 494, ^ »^^>n»i^/jr ir«i«rT PL 46s. the li 

pare the Bnmble widiihe CedariTBe ' p. 4^3^ or * Wbtfe 

mw» pnMti* flM> hart * p^ .fgy^ and flM> ^nqajiMCT^ rftW^^ |p»<Sc a •Pyayraf^ 

probabifity to otben. NevertbdesB I am veil aware of the cstrem^ 
treadiefDcs natnre of the fromid on wincb I am here l iTtifmc Thoogii 
I have dooe my best to piechi de mwtakr, a chance famgnrity vkfa aooie 
one or other of the obfcnrcr poets of this piiiii fi L tioie msj cnaUe 
a reader to BCfati v e dus or that sug g oti un, I tiost that an efibrt 
undertakep with rdnrtancr and diffidence, at the leiy dose cf m Jaborioos 
task^ because I felt it m^ht possibly be demanded on the score of com- 
pletenesSy will not on acooont of its perhaps disappointing^ or sometimes 
uncoovincingy results, be allowed to discredit the other pwiiims of my 
work ; and that the reader wiU be able to feel that I hate, in this section, 
added something to inxr definite knowledge of the author, though I may 
have somewhat lowered the repotatioo of the poeL 
Slimes, I cannot pcetend that my search has been crhansrive : though, so f^ 

as the MSS. in the British Museum are oonoemed, I shonld hardly 
expect a later investigator to add much to my list that had not already 
passed under my review ; while I believe I have also gleaned aO that the 
Rcmlinson MSS. (Poetical) at the Bodleian have to yidd* Those which 
I deem most worth attention, and to which 1 have given the nxist 
thorough scrutiny, are Harleian MS. 6910, Addiitotud MSS. IS>S32, 
22,6otf and Rawlinson MSS, 85, 148, 172. I have also gone through 
all the printed Elizabethan Anthologies, most of the Music-Books before 
l6lOf and some modem collections of ancient work *. I am satisfied that 

> K.|;. d. No. 10 1. 17 with Euph, i. 225 1. 31 'I force not Philaatns his feiy/ 
ifid il. 04 11' 33-4 'I icMXt not thy force, 1 force not thj friendship' : aad Nol 51 
it. a If. 37-8 with Euph, i. 350 IL 8-10 'Thinke . . . that Uiena, when she 
ipeaketh lytce • man deoiseth most mischiefe, y* women when they be moat plcasnoat, 
pretend mott trecherie.' 

" The chief MSS. which I have examined on this matter of anooymoos poems, 
iollowinK the guidance of the descriptive Catalogues or the reff. of critiGS» are 
HarUian MSS.}fil, 1127,4064, 6910. 6^17, 731a, 7332; Lansdomm MS. 740; 
iigirtoH MSS, 923, 2230; AdditioruU MSS, 5956, I5,»'7» »5."8, 15,225, 15,226, 
i«.a'7» «5»*3»» '5»«33i «i,433. aa,6oi, 22,602, 22,603, 25,707, 28,101, 33;963; 
KawiiHion MSS, Pat, 56. 66, 85, 92, 108, 112, 120^ 148, 153, 160, 171, 172, 
1 80, 212. The Dotui and MalofU MSS,, as sommarized in Mr. Madan's Caita- 
luffue, promise nothing. 

^ Out uf a thousand or 'possibly doable that number of poems imder renew, 
I Mpied some two hundred, from wliich my selection has been made. 


nothing I here present has been claimed for Sidney, Greville, Dyer, 
Breton, Oxford, Essex ^ Raleigh', or Spenser. What I select forms, 
I think, a body of fairly homogeneous, though seldom more than 
mediocre, verse. It should be remembered that there is great inequality Lyly 
of merit among the songs in the Plays, some of which are almost Prosateur 
a disgrace to the author of * Cupid and my Campaspe.' It is clear that ^^ " 
Lyly, while capable of the exquisite, could descend to the slipshod, 
though we might have expected better things from one of his evident 
artistic sense. I believe not only that with him, as with a famous modem 
Euphuist, John Ruskin, fluency and fullness of suggestion made him 
impatient of the delay and constraint of versification ; but also, what could 
never be said of Ruskin, that his mind was strictly of a prosaic cast* His 
thought moved freely, but on the plain, never upon the peaks. The 
praise due to the very best of his songs is that of grace and daintiness 
whether of fancy or execution, of prettiness and ingenuity, and of fresh- 
ness ; never, I think, of power, awe, passion, or other than an earthly 
beauty. And he seems to have been aware of the inconstant and qualified 
nature of his impulse, and to have distrusted himself in this field. He 
describes himself in Elvetham as ' modicum poetam ' ; he does not print 
even the songs in the (prose) plays ; his Prologue to the blank verse play. 
The Womatiy 1593 (where two songs are allowed to appear in the quarto), 
is in the modest tone of a tyro ; and in any other poems he may have 
written he remains anonymous. Probably he had imbibed, from early 
acquaintance with the classics, and with Sidney and Spenser in the 
Savoy, too high a respect for the poetic function to venture on it rashly, 
or to obtrude his efforts. 

A correct chronological arrangement of the pieces I print is probably Grouping 
unattainable. The dates of MSS. are too vague to guide us, and those odopf^- 
on the title-pages of anthology or song-book afford only a downward 
limit. 1 have followed what seemed the probable order of production, 
qualifying this with some attempt to keep together poems taken from the 
same source or dealing with the same subject. 

I. Nos. 1-15. First come a few which I have classed as 'Early Auto- 
biographical ' ; beginning with a set of hexameters on trees recalling 
some of Lyly's favourite illustrations and written probably in the days 
of Harvey's Areopagus, and continuing with some versification of special 
sentiments in Euphues^ generally in Chaucer's seven-line stanza popu- 
larized by Sackville, which made way later for that formed by omission 
of its fifth line. The last three of this group are taken from Anthony prom 

Munday's A Banquet of Daintie Conceits^ 1588, reprinted from a unique Munda^s 


» Except The Bee, 

'^ Exceptions are to be found in 'Praisd be Dianas faire and hannlet light' 
(No. 36), * Hey downe a downe did Dian sing ' (No. 38), ' Like to a Hermite, (Sec. 
(No. 23), and the two poems after Marlowe's ' Come Hue with me ' (Nos. 39, 4^). 



Front CI. 

W. Byrd. 

From 'The 


copy in the Harleian Miscellany ^ vol. ix. Thomas Park, the editor, noted 
the likeness in the first to the speeches of Polonius, which I have shown 
to be founded on Euphues (vol. i. p. 165). The other two are more 
doubtful : their tone and subject are quite those of Euphues^ Part I ; but 
these commonplaces about youth and age and the fading of beauty might 
be perpetrated by any young writer, e. g. Munday liimsel£ Still I know 
none to whom they would be half so appropriate as to Lyly. If his, 
I should, comparing them with the much more compact prose expression 
of the same sentiments in Euphues, suppose them to precede that work ; 
though their smooth versification argues previous practice in rhyming. 

U. Nos. i6-2a Next I place a group of ' Early Love- Poems,' mainly 
of rougher and poorer verse, but exhibiting, though drawn from diflferent 
sources, a striking similarity of tone and manner, and that distinctly 
Lylian. The longest, No. 16, is from a MS. (Addit, 22,601) which has 
contributed several other poems in my selection, though generally with 
less certainty than this. The second of two poems in the same uncommon 
metre (Nos. 17, 18) is from Clement Robinson's Handefull of Pleasant 
Delites, 1584, and extremely euphuistic — a mosaic of proverbs : there is 
another of that metre in the same anthology, ^ The Lover,' which fails 
to establish a claim to admission ; but I have included, with some doubts, 
' A Proper Sonet,' No. 19, and one, No. 20 (from another MS.), which 
resembles in tone No. 10. 

m. Nos. 21-4. These are followed by four songs from different sources, 
inserted rather because they fit the place of some that are missing in the 
plays than because they are strikingly like Lyly, though they may be his. 

rv. Nos. 25-53. Then comes by far the largest group, * Later Love- 
Poems,' mostly of much better verse than that of groups I and II, and 
containing a good deal of which Lyly has no reason to be ashamed. This 
is the section to which exception may most easily be taken, though 
of course its contents do not stand or fall together. It includes 

{a) three, Nos. 25-7, from William Byrd's Song- Books of 1588 and 
1589, which remind me of Lyly's phrases and ideas ; and a fourth. No. 28, 
strikingly like him, from Addit, MS. 22,601 ; 

(b) eight, Nos. 29-36, from The Phcenix Nest . . . setfoorth by R. S. 
of the Inner Temple Gentleman . . . 1593, from which I took two others, 
Nos. 6, 23. For the first seven of these eight, I can allege no very special 
likeness. They present a general resemblance both to each other amd to 
Lyly ; an impression that will be strengthened by a comparison of them 
with the three in Cowdray, which I do not doubt for his. I acknowledge 
their similarity also to much other ideal love-verse written about this 
time : they show, for instance, considerable likeness to the work of Lyly's 
friend, Thomas Watson. But three other poems in The Phcmix Nest 
appear with direct attribution to Watson ; and, in view of his high repute 
as a poet, it seems more likely that these, if his, would have been similarly 


assigned. It should not be forgotten that in 1582 (Life, p. 27) Lyly pro- 
mises to communicate to Watson certain love-px)ems written by himself, 
which he then disclaims all intention of printing. Even if these were 
the poor verses I have included under * Early Love- Poems/ yet they were 
probably succeeded by later and more practised work ; and the reluctance 
to print, felt in the first instance, may have disappeared in the interval, 
or have been ignored or overruled by R. S. The Phcmix Nest, at any 
rate, was, with the exception of Munday's Banquet of Daintie Conceits^ 
1 588 (which has nothing I should claim, beyond the three already dealt 
with), the first collection since Robinson's in which they could appear ; and 
the inclusion therein of the dialogue between Constancy and Inconstancy 
(or Liberty) from the Quarrendon Entertainment of the preceding year — 
~? a dialogue suroly Lyiy's, and not known to have existed save in MS. 
—suggests Lyly's acquaintance with 'R. S.,' and makes it probable that 
some poems in the Nest are also his ^ 

(c) The eighth of the Nest group, No. 36, * Prausd be Dianas fairc and Frotn 
harmles light,* together with the next poem * My thoughts are wingde with 'jj^^^"'!'^ 
hopes,' &c., are also found in Efiglands Helicon^ 1600, from which I have 
included (besides the five which found their way into that collection from 
the Entertainments) three more, Nos. 38-40 — * Hey downe a downe did 
Dian sing,' and the two suggested by Marlowe's 'Come liue with me.' The 
second of this group of ^^^^ No. 37, ' My thoughts,* &c., was assigned by 
Francis Davison, in a private list of the Helicon contents (Harl, MS. 280, 
ff. 99-101) made, no doubt, in preparing his own Rapsody^ to the ' Earle 
of Cumberland,' a patron I think of Lyly's, in whose literary perform- 
ances I rather disbelieve '• Collier wrongly reported Dowland as giving 
it to Greville ; and Grosart, while indicating his mistake, included it in 
Greville's Works^ ii. 132 as 'much in the same vein.' I think the likeness 
to the diction of Endimion gives Lyly an infinitely better claim. All the 
other four, together with * Like to a Hermite poore,' No. 23, from the Nest^ 
have been claimed for Raleigh, a claim supported in the case of ' Praisd 
be Dianas,* &c. by the initials ' W. R.' affijDcd to the first line in Davi- 
son's MS. list above referred to. Davison, however, may have had no 
better reason than the signature ' Ignoto ' attached to aU four in Englands 
Helicon '—a signature which, though sometimes Raleigh's, is subscribed 

' That about Apelles, however (the last bat one — ' Sir painter, are thy colonn 
redie set '), though reminiscent of Campaspe in its 4th and loth stanzas, is not 
Lylian enough in manner, and is probably by some one else familiiu: with the play. 

' See vol. i. Biog. App. p. 384, and Notes to Ents. p. 519. 

' Yet Davison withholds the initials from the other three.— It has been 
alleged in regard to ' Praisd/ &c., and *The Nimphs reply' that in ed. 1600 the 
initials ' S. V7. R.* have first been printed on the page, and that afterwards a slip 
with ' Ignoto ' printed on it has been attached at one side so as to lie over and 
cover the initials. This, while tme of other poems in the Helicon, is, in the cast 
of the Brit. Mus. copy of 1600, uncertain as regards ' Praisd,* &c., where is 
neither slip nor signature, only signs of some erasure, and incorrect as regards 



From *'A 



in the same anthology to poems satisfactorily assigned to Barnfield, Dyer, 
Greville, and Lodge. Dr. Hannah^ accepted the claim for Raleigh, made 
in the seventeenth century , of *' Like to a Hermite poore ' and * The Nimphs 
reply ' ; and also, but doubtfully, that of * Praisd/ &c. ; while he rejected ' Hey 
downe a downe ' and the other Marlowe imitation. It seems to me that 
' Praisd,* &c. is redolent of Endimion^ presetiting just that coadmixture 
of physical and mythological allegory which we have traced in that play 
(above, pp. 81-2) and which, if it occurs in anything like the same degree 
in any other Elizabethan work, has entirely escaped my notice. Similarly 
the language of ^ Like to a Hermite poore * is sufficiently near that of En- 
dimion to suggest Lyl/s authorship, though the strength of the suggestion 
is not that of the former case. ' Hey downe a downe ' is either modeUed 
on, or model of, ^ Phoebes Sonnet,' printed in the same collection from 
Lodge's Rosalynde^ 1590; and the passages cited in the margin from 
Euphuesy about an earlier age when love had not yet learned dissimula- 
tion, conjoined with the lectures of Diana in GcUlathea^ seem to give 
Lyly a prior claim. Izaak Walton gave 'The Nimphs reply' to Maud- 
lin's mother to sing, with commendations, as ' made by Sir Walter 
Raleigh in his younger days ' ; but said nothing of the other imitation. 
Mr. Bullen ' does not hold either proven for Raleigh's. Both, I think, 
carry suggestions of Lyly : the first, of his habit of sermonizing to youth ; 
the second, of the Entertainments and of The Wotnan^ in which he was 
to some extent Marlowe's imitator— cf. especially Acts iii 2. 167-70, v. 
25-39, 96-109. In neither is the likeness to his manner very strong ; 
but I wish to suggest his claim, which is perhaps better than any one 
else's. I have felt some doubt whether the similarly-signed allegorical 
poem, ' In Pescod time/ is not Lyl/s ; but there is no sufficient likeness 
of phrase or sentiment to justify its inclusion. 

(</) There remains of the Anthologies', Davison's Poetical Rapsody^ 
1602, whence two poems, the Ode, Of Cynthia and Lottery^ to which Sir 
John Davies may dispute Lyly's claim, have already been given among 
the Entertainments (vol. i. 4 14, 499-504). Some of the ' A.W.' poems might 
on mere internal g^unds be assigned to Lyly ; but it is extremely un- 

the Reply, where the word ' Ignoto ' is printed fairly and cleanly on the original 
pa^e, as it is in the case of the other Marlowe imitation and ' Hey downe a downe.* 

^ Poems of Rcdeigh and Wotton^ 1875, pp. xxx, xxxi, 11, ia> 77. 

• Works of Marlowe^ 1885, vol. iiL p. 283. 

' TottelVs Miscellany, 1557, is much too early: I find nothing to which Lyly 
can lay claim in Edwardes Parculyse of daynty deuises^ ^57^* i^or in A gorgious 
Gallery ofmllattt Inuentions by T.P, 1578 : The Welspring of wit tie Conceit es 
. . . Out of Italian by IV. Phist, 1584, is in prose: IVits Commonwealth [1597] is 
a mere collection of citations from the classics and the Fathers : Wits Theater^ 
1599, is a book of signed quotations, mostly ancient, in which Lyly's name does 
not appear: Belvedere or the Garden of the Mvses, 1600 (single lines and 
couplets only), does not include Lyly in its prefatory list of authors: and 
Engltmds Parnassus ^ 1600, is a book of longer signed extracts, wherein, among 
the few anonymous fragments, is nothing of his. 


likely that Davison in his private memorandum of those poems of a * deere 
friend ' (HarL MS. 280, f. 102) would put down any but the writer's true 
initials ; and, if 'Anonymous Writer' be inadmissible S 'Amicus Watsoni* 
or ' Alter Watsonus * would be equally so. Nor does examination of the 
poems here subscribed ' Ignoto,' or unsubscribed, suggest more than a pos- 
sibility that Lyly might be the author of ' An Invectiver against Women ',' 
which reminds one somewhat of Euphues' ' Cooling Card,' and of ' A 
Counterloue,' No. 33. But among the four from which the signature 
' Anomos * is withdrawn in all editions after the first, is one (No. 41*) so 
thoroughly Lylian that 1 feel bound to include it It purports to be a 
reply to two stanzas subscribed ' Incerto * in the first edition, but assigned 
in Rawit'nson MS, Poet, 148, f. 50, to ' M' Edward Dier,' beginning 

The lowest trees have tops ; the ant her gall ; 
The fly her spleen ; the little sparks their heat : 

and it is enumerated in Davison*s 'A. W.' list as ' 116. Though lowest 
trees have tops, the ant her galL Answer.' Though in printing the 
Rafsody itself Davison omits the first stanza, that is found with the 
other four in Rawl, MS, Poet, 148, L 53, where the poem appears un- 
signed, but headed 'The aunswer to M': Diers ditie, in foL 50.' My 
belief is that these ^"^^ stanzas, the refrain of which embodies an opinion 
expressed by Alexander in Campaspe^ iL 2. 80 sqq., are Lyly's reply to 
Dyer's verses, elicited partly by the fact that the latter were practically 
a cento from Euphues ' ; and that Davison, who at first supposed them to 
be by ' A. W.' had ascertained his error before the second edition of his 
Rapsodyy 1608. I am the more inclined to regard the answer as Lyly*s, 
because the same Kawlinson MS. contains, not only the Bee with defi- 
nite ascription to him, but several others included here on various 
grounds of likeness \ But though it contains the initial stanza, its text 
is so inferior that I prefer to print both poems from the first edition 
of the Rapsody, adding the stanza in a footnote. Another of the four 
poems from which the signature 'Anomos' is withdrawn after the first 
edition, ' It chanct of late a Shepheards swayne V tempts me with an air 
of probability for subject and treatment ; but, beyond the proverb of the 
last stanza, I see no special Lylian likeness of phrase or style. 
(e) I have added to this group of ' Later Love- Poems ' three (Nos. 42-4) From John 

^ I disbelieve in the use of ' anonymous * as an English epithet at this date. 

' Vol. ii. 123, ed. Ballen ; who, with Hannah, rejects the claim for Raleigh. 

' Compare with the two lines quoted above Euph, ii. 90 L 33 ' I but Euphues, 
low trees haue their tops, smal sparkes their heat, the Flye his splene, y* Ant hir 
gall, Pbilautus bis affection, which b neither ruled by reason, nor led by appoint- 
ment.* See too the other references given in the margin. Even if Dyer's verses 
were written before the Second Part of Euphues^ these passages show that they bad 
attracted Lyly's notice, and might elicit a reply. 

* See below, pp. 444-5. 

'" Vol. i. 37, ed. BuUen. Dr. Hannah rejected the claim of this poem for Raleigh. 



aitd Robert 

from John Dowland's Song-Books of 1600 and 1603, and as many as ten 
(Nos. 45-52, 66-7) from Robert Jones' First Booke of Songes 6r* Ayres, 
1600, with one from his Muses Gardin for Delights^ 1610. One or two 
others are included later from the same composers, who with Byrd (three, 
Nos. 25-7), and Morley (one, No. 21), are the only ones laid under con- 
tribution. Though I have hunted through many other music-books— of 
Morley, Wilbye, Weelkes, N. Yonge, &c— it seemed to me unlikely that 
Lyly*s work would be found in many hands. It may be thought I have 
drawn too largely on the single book of Jones, 1600 ; but the Lylian im- 
pression of these pieces is to me very strong. In none of these music- 
books, nor anywhere else, have I come upon the faintest trace of any of 
the songs printed by Blount : nor, let me add, am I aware of any mention 
of Lyly as a poet pure and simple in any contemporary work. 

V. Nos. 54-67. There remains the section headed * Later Autobio- 
g^phical,' wherein I have collected a number of pieces which seem to 
lament, no coldness or treachery of some mistress, real or ideal, but the 
continual thwarting of his material hopes. The superior sincerity of 
accent is obvious. Doubtless this vein of bitter complaint might be 
indulged by many others at Court ; but the pieces I choose are either 
extremely Lylian, e. g. Nos. 54, 58, 59, or else are recommended by their 
appearance in a quarter where I have found others more evidently his. 
Perhaps there is least verbal evidence for those which are poetically the 
best, the four from the Song-Books, Nos. 55-6, 66-7. In support of the 
last, which reminds one rather of Nash, I would urge the marked rhythm 
of the fifth line in each stanza, repeated in the fifth lines of No. 59 
which is more like Lyly. No. 65, from the same MS. as the hexameters 
on trees, is recommended by the musical imagery, by the puns in stanza 3, 
and by Lyly*s favourite trick of exposing fictions, poetic or other ^ The 
rest are taken from or found in the following three MSS. on which I have 
already made considerable drafts. 

(l) Rawlinson MS. Poetical^ 148, 4<*, 114 leaves, is dated in Mr. F. 
^a;<f/. AfS, Madan's Catalogue as about 1600, and is bound with and following on 
' ^ ' a printed copy of Watson's HeceUomfnithiay 1582. It is all written in 
a single hand, that of John Lilliat, a clergyman who, one might conjec- 
ture from some details he gives of proceedings at Christ Church during 
a royal visit, resided at or near Oxford, and who signs his name, generally 
but not always in Greek characters, or prints it from a stamp, all over the 
MS. As the great majority of the poems bear his signature, we may 
reasonably infer that the unsigned ones are by others ; and it seems to 


' Eupk, L 195 drawbacks of wit, ii. 114-9 love-charms. Camp. DiogeDes 
throogboat, and iiL 3 Jnpiter*s character, Saph. ii. 3 Molus on valiancy, GalL 
Alchemist and Astronomer, Loves Met. ii. i. 51-61 Nisa on poetic accounts of 
Love, M. Bomb, i. 3. 90-110 Candins and Livia on parents* affection, Woman 
Gtinophiliis* vein throughout. 


me probable that the five precedmg the Bee, occupying fT. 31 V.-32 v., are 
all by Lyly ; though as the two first of these, ' Who sees y* sunne how 
soone it growes obscure ' (5 stt.)> and a sonnet ' Of a sealed doue/ pre- 
sent no special resemblances, 1 only copy the three frag^xients (Nos. 60-2) 
on f. 32 v.^ Other poems in my selection also found in this MS. are Nos. 
17 ^Of lingeringe Loue * (f. 2), 50 'When loue on time,' &c. (f. 59), and 63 
' Ouer theis brookes,* &c. (f. 46). 

(2) Additional MS. 22,601, 12"®, 107 leaves, was acquired by the From 
Museum at Dr. Bliss' sale, 1858, and formerly belonged to Andrews, ^*^iJ^^^' 
a Bristol bookseller. It is a most interesting collection of poems, balla s, ' 
satirical pieces, &c, all transcribed in one very legible hand about 1603. 

The Percy Society printed twenty-two pieces from it under the title of 
Poetical Miscellanies in vol. xv of its collection of Early English Poetry. 
I have already claimed the fourth of these (No. 28), a sonnet said to be 
worked on a sampler, extremely Lylian in thought and diction, though of 
more pathos than he usually exhibits ; four others, Nos. 7, 8, 10, 12, alike 
in their praise of independence, sincerity, and ' the mean ' ; and the 
long piece of poor verse (No. 16) which preaches Sybilla's lesson of bold 
wooing. Three of them are in octosyllabic metre, and should probably 
be placed before 1 580, about the same time as ' Of lingeringe Loue ' and 
' A Warning for Wooers.' In the same MS., f. 49, are given the mottoes 
for the Lots of the Harefield Entertainment (vol. i. pp. 500-4). 

(3) Harleian MS, 6910 is a very large collection (190 leaves) of poems From 

all copied in the same fine small hand ; those occupying ff. 1-74 being jfj*^^* ^^' 
all by Spenser, and followed in the MS. by 'finis 1596,' so that the sue- ^ 
ceeding ones, nearly all of them unsigned, were at least transcribed after 
that date '. Its contents, which are of every shade of merit, range over 
the whole of Elizabeth's reign, and include poems in the old fourteener, 
though most are in stanzas of six or seven decasyllabic lines, e. g. there 
are long transcripts from Sackville's Induction, I have included from 
this MS. seven poems as possibly by our author, and have transcribed from 
other sources Hwe besides the Bee (Nos.23, 35, 41, 43f 59, 65) also found here. 

The long poem on the Bee claims special notice. It seems to have The Bee, 
enjoyed a contemporary fame equal to that of ' Nowe what is loue ' or The 
Lie, and is found in an even greater number of MSS., of which the list 
given below' is probably far from complete. Its vogue maybe partly 

' Fol. 33, which would have coatained the first four stt. of The Bee, and probably 
something else immediately preceding it, is lost. 

' About one half of them can be definitely assigned. I should like to see this 
portion of the MS. fT. 74-190 edited by some one of full knowledge— and ample 

* Harl. MS. 6910, ff. 167-8 (14 stt., om. 5*^) unsigned, 
liarl. MS. 3137, f. 58 (14 stt., om. 5^) unsigned, endorsed 'The Bees Songe.' 
Addit. MS. 5956, f. 35 (3 stt. 7, 10, II, with two odd couplets) unsigned. 
(Dowland printed stt. 1-3, unsigned, as Na 18 of his Ihird and Last Booke 
of Son^ or Aires, 1603.) 

446 POEMS 

attributed to its, I believe, incorrect ascription to the Earl of Essex. In 
several MSS., notably in Harl. MS. 6910 —almost the best — it is anony- 
mous. Reading it there first I felt assured it must be Lyly*s ; and shortly 
afterwards found it in Rawl. MS. Poet 148 actually subscribed 'q^ 
M*" John Lilly,' in a hand other than that of Lilliat, but still contemporary. 
Then, one after another, I came upon the MSS. with the Essex ascription, 
cuhninating in the Sloane MS. 1303 with a particularity (cf. note, below) 
that compels close examination. Park in his edition (1S06) of Walpole's 
Roycd and Noble Authors^ ii. 107-14, printed it as by Essex ; and Grosart, 
in his Fuller Worthies Miscellanies (1872-6), pp. 85-9. I submit that the 
contents of the poem are inapplicable to Essex, and are exactly applicable 
to Lyly, whose phrases and ideas, besides, the poem repeats. It laments 
under a thin allegorical veil the author's lack of all reward for his service ; 
the last stanza in particular speaks of his having been sustained by false 
hopes and promises for ten years, and specifies money as the object of 
his dreams ; while the third and fourth stanxas allude to the Queen's 
rejection with rebuke of some special application he had made to her. 
Now Essex came to Court in 1585, and had received almost continuous 
marks of royal favour. He was refused a command in 1594 ; but even in 
that year he won Elizabeth's regard by securing the conviction of the 
physician Lopez, and she began to treat him with a separate confidence 
that aroused a natural jealousy in the Cecils. The poem's complaint of 
utter neglect is not such as Essex could reasonably make, either in 1595 
(ten years after coming to Court), or 1598 ^ (the date given by the Sloane 

Rawl. MS. Poet. 148, flf. 34-5 (stt. 5-15 only— f. 33 missiDg), signed in another 

hand * q« M'. lohn UUy.' 
Addit MS. 15,891, flf. 344-5 (13 stt.. cm. 5*'*, 14*'*, is*"*), unsigned, hot follow- 

ing letters between Essex and Egerton. 

Ashmole MS. J8i, p. 132 \ *"^'' ^ ' Complaynt. 

Rawl. MS. Poet. ii2» flf. q-io (14 stt., cm. 5^**), unsigned, bat forming the first 
of two poems headed ' Verses or English Poemes written by the Lo : the 

Rawl. MS. Poet. 173, flf. 13-4 (14 stt., om. 5*^), unsigned, headed * My Lord of 
Essex his Bee.* 

Collier's MS. (15 stt), subscribed 'R. Devereox. Essex,* headed ' Hon! soit qny 
mal y pense.* (Bibl. Cat ii. iSq, where stt 1 1, la are quoted.) 

Sloane MS. 1303 (Tracts relating to the Earl of Essex), flf. 71 -a (15 stt), sub- 
scribed ' Robert Deuoreux Elarle of Essex and Ewe, Earle Marshall of 
Englande,' headed ' The Earle of Essex his Buzze w^^ he made vpon some 
discontentment he receiued, a litle before his ioumey into Ireland. ASo 
Dfli 1598.' 

Egerton MS. 933, If. 5-7 (15 stt.), unsigned, headed 'A Poem made on Robt 
Deuorex Earle of Essex by M*" Henry Cuflf his Chaplaine.' 

I have reported all variants of any importance, not every minute difference. The 
report of the Tanner and Ashmole MSS. is given from Grosart's Fuller Worthies 
Miscellanies^ vol. iv. 85-91. 

^ By no straining could the scene in the Council in July, when Raleigh repeated 
an uncomplimentary remark of Essex, for which the Queen boxed the latter*s ears, 


MS.) ; nor is its piteous tone at all consistent with his pride or his position 
at any time. But to Lyiy's position and fortunes it is absolutely applic- 
able, forming a most natural expression of his reflections on the rejection 
of his First Petition, presented after ten years' service, i.e. in 1598*. It 
is the burthen of both petitions that he has been working hard and has 
received nothing. Tobacco is specially associated with Lyly in passages 
of Nash and Ben Jonson (Life, pp. 60-1) : bees furnish probably his most 
frequent image in Eupkues and elsewhere : and those who will verify the 
references in the margin will find many special likenesses. In view of the 
anonymity in regard to his poems, which he breaks only in the case of 
The Woman, it is easy to understand how this one, copied widely perhaps 
from some collection of Oxford's, might come to be associated with the 
figure who bulked so large in the popular mind at the close of the century. 
The MSS. which assert Essex's authorship are very feulty in text, though 
perhaps not much, if at all, later than the others. The Egerton MS., 
which alone assigns it to Henry CufTe, Essex's secretary or chaplain, is 
dated in the Catalogue 'c. 1630-40.' Cuffe is not known as a maker of 
English verse. Though I disbelieve in its ascription, I print from this 
MS. as furnishing, though late, the best copy, possessing the 5th stanza, 
which Harl. MS. 6910, the next best copy, lacks. 

VI. Nos. 68-73. I close with half a dozen ' Epigrams * from Addit, 
MS. 15,227. 

And so I commend to the critic a selection which, while liable to the 
complaints of inclusion or omission customarily made of anthologies, is 
deprived by its \ery nature of the anthology's special attraction. It 
would have been far safer to decline the task, and that course would have 
saved me months of labour ; but I believe the editor of a later day will 
thank me for having supplied him with some basis and information on 
which to work. 

be made to fit stanzas 3-4. She pardoned him in October. Earlier in the year she 
had presented him with ^7000 \Dict. Nat, Biog^, 

^ Cf. St. 9 'Patience (var. Patient) I am therefore I most be poore,' and ft. 15 
* fiiue yeares twise told w^ promises p'fame | my hope stnft head was cast into 
a slnmber ' {cf. marg. reff.) with the language of Letter iii in Biog. App. vol. L 
P* 39.^) ' ^ one of y* Qneens patients, who have nothing applied thes ten yeres to 
my wantes bat promises.' 

448 POEMS 

I. Early Autobiographical: i 575-1 580? 

1. (From Rawlinson MS. Poet, 85, f. 22.) 

When I behoulde the trees in the earthes fkyre lyuerye clothed 
Ease I do feele, suche ease as faulles to me wholy diseased 
For that I fynde in them parte of my state represented 
Lam«it- La'^^^^i showes what 1 seek, by y« Myrr is showde how I seek it 
inges Olyue poyntes me the pryce that I muste aspyre to by conquest 5 

peace lone Myrtle makes me requeste, my requeste is vnsealde by a Willowe 
2^JJ^ • apruss promisethe healpe, but healp y* bringes me no comfort 
(^Euph,\\. Sweet luniper sayes thus, thoughe 1 bume, yet I bum in a sweet fyre 
75 11* 33-^) Ewe dothe make me thinke what kynd of bowe the boye houldethe, 
Whiche shootes throughe w^ut any noyse and deadlye w^ut smarte. 10 
Firr tree is great and greene fyxte one a hye hill but a barren. 
Lyke to my noble thoughtes styll newe, well plaste, to me fruteless. 
(Eupk,\. Figg that yealdes moste pleasaunt frute his shadow is hurtefulL 
333 L 30) Thus be her guifts most sweet thus most dawnger to be neere her 
{Eupk, i. But in Palme when I mark howe he dothe ryse vnder a burthen 15 
?9^' 9» And maye not I saye than get vp thoughe grefes be so wayghtye 
' ' ' ^^^ Pyne is a maste to a shipp, to my shipp shall hope for a mast seme 
Pyne is hyghe, hope is as hyghe, yet be my hopes budded. 
Elme imbraste by a Vine, embracinge fancye reuiuethe. 
Popler chaungethe his hewe, from a rysinge sun to a settinge. 20 

Thus to my sunn do I yealde, suche lookes her beames do afford me, 
Quid aged oke cutt doune for new workes semes to the buildinge 
So my desy^s by feare cut downe for y« frames of her honor 
Palmes do reioyse to be ioynde w^^ y^ matche of a male to a femall 
And shall sensiue thinges be so sensless as to resist sense 25 

Ashe makes speare w^^ sheilds do resist e, hi' force no repuls takes 
Thus be my thoughts disperst thus thinkinge nowrsest a thought still 
But to the Caedar queen of woodes when I lyft my betrayde eys 
Than do I shape my selfe that forme w®** raygnes so within me 
And thinke ther she dothe dwell and here w^ pllaynts I do vtte' 30 
{SaphAr, When that noble topp dothe nodd I beleiue she salutes me 
3* 4r 19) Than kneelinge often thus I do speake to her image. 
Onlye lewell, all onlye lewell, whiche onlye deserueste 

33 for] by MS. 



That mens heartes be thy seat and endless fame be y^ seruante 
O descend for a whill from this great hyghte to behoulde me 
But nought else do behoulde or it is not worthe the behouldinge 
Se what a thought is wrought by thy selfe ! and since I am alltred 
Thus by thy werck disdayne not(e) that w*'*' is by thy selfe done. 
In meane caues oft treasue' abydes, to an hostry a kinge comes 
— And so behind black cloudes full oft faye^ streams do ly hidden. 



2. (From HarL MS, 6910, f. 97.) 

No PLACE commendes the man vnworthie praise. 
No title of state doth stay vp vices fall : 
No wicked wight to wo can make delay es, 
No loftie lookes preserue the proude at all 
No brags or boast, no stature high and tall, 
No lusty yought, no swearing, stareing stout, 
No brauerie, banding, cogging, cutting out 

Then what availes to haue a Princly place, 
A name of honour or an high degree, 
To come by kindred of a noble race ? 
Except wee Princely, worthie, noble be. 
The fruites declare the goodnes of the tree. 
Doe br( a )gge no more, of birth or linage than, 
fTor vertue, grace, and manners make the man. 

3. (From HarL MS, 6910, L loi v.) 

How can he rule well in a common wealth, 
Which knoweth not himselfe in rule to frame? 
How should he rule himselfe in ghostly health 
Which neuer leam*d one lesson for the same? 
If such catch harme their parents are to blame : 
ffor needes must they be blinde, and blindly led. 
Where no good lesson can be taught or read. 

Some thinke their youth discreete and wisely taught, 
That brag, and boast, and weare their fether braue, 
Can royst and rout, both lowre and looke aloft. 
Can sweare and stare, and call their fellowes knaue, 
Can pill and poll, and catch before they craue. 
Can carde and dice, both cog and foyste at fare, 
Play on vnthriftie, till their purse be bare. 

Some teach their youth to pipe, to sing and daunce, 
To hauke, to hunt, to choose and kill their game. 

(^Eufh. i. 

10 »7ol. 13, 
317 1. ao> 

^5 i.,i9> 


{Euph. L 
269, 376) 


30 </^.> 




450 POEMS 

To winde their home, and with their horse to praunce. 

To play at tennis, set the lute in frame, 

Run at the ring, and vse such other game: 
(Eup/k.u Which feats although they be not all vnfit, 

377 ; ii. 50 Yet cannot they the marke of vertue hit. 5 

^oSus) ffor Noble yought there is nothing so meete 

As learning is, to knowe the good from ill: 
To know the tongues, and perfectly endyte. 
And of the lawes to haue a perfect skill, 

Thinges to reforme as right and iustice will : 10 

(Tor honnour is ordeyned for no cause 
But to see right maintayned by the lawes. 

4. (From Har/. MS. 6910, f. 1 10 v.) 

{Euph.L What liquor first the earthen pot doth take, 

265 1. 34) i^ iceepeth still the sauour of the same. 

(^Theob.voX, ffull hard it is a Camocke straight to make, 15 

L ?\^^^ ^^ wainscot fyne with crooked logges to frame. 

Tis hard to make the cruell Tiger tame. 
And so it fares with those haue vices caught: 
Naught once (they say) and euer after naught. 

I speake no{t) this as though it past all cure 20 

ffrom vices vile to vertue to retire: 

But this I say, if vice be once in vre. 

The more you shall to quite your selfe require, 

The more you plimge yo*^ selfe in fulsome mire, 

(i.e.Syrtes, As he that striues in soakte quicke sirts of sand, 25 

•i"^?*-^*' Still sinkes, scarce euer comes againe to land. 

189 1. 8> 

6. (From HarL MS, 6910, f, 164.) 

{Empk, i. O loath that Loue whose fynall ayme is Lust 

'4^ *N«» Moth of the mynde, Eclipse of Reasons light 

fEtSS^u '^^ graue of Grace, the mole of Natures Rust 

14a 11/19- The wracke of witt, the wronge of euery wighL 30 

31,1891.3^ Iji SuAe an euill, whose harmes no tonge can tell 

a5iU.7-«) j^ ^jj ^^ Line is death, to dye is HeU. 

e. (Fiwn The Phcmix Nest, 1593.) 

iRmtk. L The brainsicke race that wanton youth ensues, 

188, IL 9- Without regard to grounded wisdomes lore, 

15 &c) ^ xJtxtL as I thinke thereon, renues 35 

The frtsh remembrance of an ancient sore : 

15 Cnnocke MS. 16 crooked logges with wainscot fyne MS. 



Reuoking to my pensiue thoughts at last, 
The worlds of wickednes that I haue past. 

And though experience bids me bite on bit, 

And champe the bridle of a bitter smacke, 

Yet costly is the price of after wit, 5 

Which brings so cold repentance at hir backe: 
And skill that's with so many losses bought, 
Men say is little better worth than nought. 

And yet this fruit, I must confesse, doth growe 
Of follies scouige : that though I now complaine 10 

Of error past, yet henceforth I may knowe 
To shun the whip that threats the like againe: 
For wise men though they smart a whil^, had leuer 
To leame experience at the last, than neuer. 

7. (From Addit MS. 22,601, f. 55 V.) 

I feare not death, feare is more paine 
then death it selfe to courage true: 
In youth who dies or else is slaine 
paies nature but a debt y^ due. 

Who yongest dies he doth (but) paye 

a debt (he owes) before the daye 

And such a debte longer to haue 
doth nothinge profite men at all 
Death is a debt nature doth craue 
and must be pay*d by great & small. 

I loth not warres, nor longe for strife 

I feare not death, nor hate not life. 

8. (From Addit. MS. 22,601, f. 56 r.) 

I will not soare aloft the skye 

With Icarus so fismr fro ground 

Least that y* Simn my winges do (fry) 

and fallinge downe w^ him be dround 

The middle Region will I keepe 

when others wake secure to sleepe. 

And as high flights ile not attempt 

So neither will I fly so lowe 

to be a marke for base contempt 35 

to shoote and hitt me with his Bowe. 

If y^ he striue to shoote so hie 

his Bowe about his eares shall flie* 

Gg 2 

(^Euph. ii. 
26 L 22) 

15 {^EuphA, 
letter to 
and No. 10) 


25 < 

<Cf. No. 


(^Euph, ii. 

39 I. 33 •• cf. 
with this 
No. 12) 

{GalL V. 3. 
187 sqq. ; 
Lffves Met, 

• • • 

111. I. 


<Cf. No. 8> 

(Eupk. i. 

325I. 3I1 
ii. 94 11. 

<No.7 end) 

452 POEMS 

Lowe shrubbs y* silly beastes do cropp : 
high trees great tempests do the crack 
The meane growe(n) tree w^ slend(er) topp 
is free from beastes & tempests wrack 
Neither base nor treble will I singe 
the Meane is still y® sweetest stringe. 

9. (From Addit. MS. 22,601, f. 56 r.) 

Councell w®** afterward is soughte 

is like vntimely showres 
Distillinge from the duskie cloudes 

when heate hath parcht y« flowres. 

10. (From Addit, MS, 22,601, £ 60 r.) 

Soare I will not, in flighte the grounde ile see 

The careless mind scomes fortunes angrie frowne, 

Either life or death indifferent is to mee, 

Preferr I do content before a crowne: 

High thoughts I clipp, no stoutenes throwes me downe 

Euen loftiest lookes in small regard I burie 

Not feare their force, nor force not of y«»' furie. 

Riche in content, my Wealth is health & ease 
A conscience cleare my chiefe & sure defence, 
-Disdaine I do by flatt'ringe meanes to please 
For by deserts I will not giue offence. 
Only a wronge reuenge shall recompence : 
Rest Muse, I feare no foe, nor frowe on frend 
Dispise not life, nor yet I dreade not end. 





U. (From Addit, MS, 22,6oi, f. 60 r.) 

If all the Earthe were paper white 
and all the sea were incke 

Twere not inough for me to write 
as my poore hart do^^ thinke. 


12. (From Addii, MS, 22,6oi, ff. 79 v.-8o r.) 

The lofty trees whose brauches make sweete shades 
Whose armes in springe are richely dighte w^h flow'* 
Without y® roote their glory quickly lades 
& all in vaine comes pleasant Aprill show". 
No loue can be at all without y* hart 
nor Musick made excep(t) the Base beares parte. 



The princely tow" whose pride exceedes in show 

if ther foundations be not stronge & sownde 

Are subiect to y* smallest windes y* blowe 

& highest toppes are brought to lowest ground. (Cf. No.8 

No fielde is sweete Whe all is scortchd w**» drowte j "^'S) 

nor musick good when so y® base is out. 

13. (From A. Monday's Banquet of Dointie Conceits^ 1588.) 

A Dittie, wherein is contained divers good and necessary documents, 

which beeing embraced and followed earnestly, may cause a man to shunne ( Quarr. 

manie evilles and mischaunces, that may otherwise fall upon him, ere he ii lllf '^^^ 
can beware. 10 

This Ditty may be sung to the high ' Allemaigne Measure ' ; singing 
every last straine twise with the musicque. 

' Softe fire makes sweete mault,' they say ; 

Few words well plast the wise will way. 

Time idle spent, in trifles vaine, 15 

Retumes no guerdon for thy paine: 

But time well spent, doth profite bring, 

And of good works will honour spring. 

Bestow thy time then in such sort. 

That vertue may thy deedes support : 20 

The greater profite thou shalt see, 

And better fame will goe of thee. 

In talke be sober, wise, and sadde, 

Faire to thy freend, kind to the badde ; 

And let thy words so placed bee 25 

As no man may finde fault with thee. 

Nor meddle not in any case 

With matters which thy wittc surpasse: {EupAA. 

With things that not to thee pertaines, 195 1. 26) 

It folly were to beate thy braines ; 30 

For sudden blame may hap to thee, 

In medling unadvisedly. 

Take heede, in any wise, I say, 

What things thou goest about to-day. 

That thou to-morrow not repent, 35 

And with thy selfe be discontent 

Speake not such words to others' blame. 

As afterward may tume thee shame. 

No. 13. As reprinted in *HarUian Miscellany^* vol, ix. /. 234, ed. Park 

454 POEMS 

To-day thou speakest, and doost not care, 
But of tomorrow still beware : 
For then thou canst not call againe, 
{Euph.W. What lavishly did passe thy braine. 

3^ 11» 3-5> 

Keepe secrete closely in thy minde 5 

Things that thy state and credite binde ; 

Beware, if thou doo them disclose, 

To whom and where, for feare of foes : 
{EufhA. Especially of him take heede 

a8i 11. 3a Whose trueth thou doost not know in deede« 10 

^^'^ For hard it is thy freend to know 

From him that is a flattering foe : 

And many men in showe are kind. 

Yet worse then serpents in their mind. 

{EuphAx, Be not too hasty in thy deedes ; 15 

31 1. 10) Of too much haste oft harme proceedes. 

Be sober, mute; take good advise, 

For things too much are full of vice. 

With moderation rule thee so. 

As thou aside no way maist go: 20 

For 'haste makes waste,' as proofe dooth say, 
{Euph. i. And little said, soone mend ye may. 

279 11. 6-7 > Forecast what after may befall; 

So shalt thou not be rashe at all. 

Have minde still of thine owne offence, 25 

R^;ard thy faults with good pretence: 

Seeke not a moate in one to spie, 

First pull the beame out of thine eye. 

And find no fault with any man, 

Except amend thy selfe thou can: 30 

And when thy faults amended be, 

The good that others see in thee, 

Will leame them so their deedes to frame, 

As they may likewise scape from blame. 

{Euph,)i, Of no man give thou bad report, 35 

3ill.aa-4> Backbite not any in thy sport: 

{^End, i. 3. For words doo wound as deepe as swords, 

5^) Which many use in jesting boordes ; 

And slaunder is a hainous hate, 

Which dooth nought els but stirre debate; 40 

And twixt good freendes makes deadly strife, 

To hazard one another's life : 


And all this may proceede of thee, 
Except thou wilt advised bee* 

Beare freendly with thy neighbours fault, 

Remember thou thy selfe maist halt. 

If he hath ought offended thee, 5 

Forgive, as thou the like wouldest be: 

And thinke, if thou hast gone awrie, 

Thou for forgivenesse must apply: 

So with thy neighbour's faults doo beare, 

And of thine owne stand still in feare. 10 

Pardon as thou wouldest pardoned be. 

So God will pardon him and thee. 

Be gentle unto every wight, {£uph,ii. 

Let courtesie be thy delight: 3111.6-25) 

Familiar be with few, I say ; 15 

For sure it is the wisest wale. 

Too much familiaritie 

May bring thy sorrowes suddainly: 

Therefore, keepe gentlenesse in mind; 

To rich and poore be alwaies kind : 20 

So pride shall never conquere thee. 

Which is man's cheefest enemie. 

14. (From A. Manda/t Banquet of Daintie Conceits^ 1 588.) 

A Dittie, wherein the brevitie of man's life is described, how soone his 
pompe vanisheth away, and he brought to his latest home. 

This Ditty may be sung to the * Venetian AUemaigne.' 25 ^cf. Euph, 

The statelie pine whose braonches spreade so fairey XlI^iq 

By winde or weather wasted is at length; 308-11) 

The sturdie oake that dymeth in the ayre. 
In time dooth lose his beautie and his strength ; 

The fayrest flower that florisht as to dale, 30 (No. 15 st. 
To-morrow seemeth like the withered hale. 5. 18 st. 

So fares it with the present state of man, 

Whose showe of healthe dooth argue manie yeeres : 
But as his life is likened to a span. 
So suddaine sicknes puUes him from his peeres; 35 

And where he seemde for longer time to-daie, 
To-morrow lies he as a lumpe of clay. 

No. 14. As reprinted in Effort, Misc* vol, ix./. 238, ed. Park 




The infant yong, the milk-white aged head, 

The gallant youth that braveth with the best. 
We see with earth are quickly over-spreade, 
And both alike brought to their latest rest : 
As soone to market commeth to be solde, 5 

The tender lambe's skin, as the weather's old. 

Death is not partiall : as the proverbe saies, 

The prince and peasant both with him are one ; 
The sweetest face that's painted now a daies, 
And highest head, set forth with pearle and stone, 10 

When he hath brought them to the earthly grave, 
Beare no more reckoning then the poorest slave. 

The wealthy chuffe, that makes his gold his god, 

And scrapes and scratches all the mucke he may; 
And with the world dooth play at even and od; 15 

When Death thinks good to take him hence away, 
Hath no more ritches in his winding-sheete, 
Then the poore soule that sterved in the streete. 

Unhappie man ! that runneth on thy race. 

Not minding where thy erased bones must rest: 20 

But woe to thee that doost forget thy place, 
Purchast for thee, to live amongst the blest 
Spend then thy life in such a good regard. 
That Christens blessing may be thy reward ! 24 

15. (From A. Manday*t Banquet of DattUie ConceiiSy 1588.) 

A Glasse for all Men to behold themselves in ; especially such proude 
and prodigall-minded Men, and such delicate and daintie Women, who 
(Cfi Euph. building on the pride of their beautie and amiable complexion, thinke 
J» PJ^'V ' scome to become aged ; and that their sweete faces should be wrinckled, 
Sapho ; and ^^ \^^v[ youthfulnes brought into subjection by age. 
No. i^> .pjjjg j^j^jy j^^y ^ g^j^g ^Q ^jjg i £^j^ Qf Oxenford's Galliard.' 30 

{Euph. i. You youthfull heads, whose climing mindes 

189 1. ao> £j^^ seeke for worldly praise, 

Whose yong desires doo seeme to scome 

Olde age*s staied waies. 
Beare with the plaine-song of my note, 3 c 

Which is so plaine in deede. 
As daintie mindes will scant endure 

So harshe a tale to reade. 

No. 15. As rtprinied in ' HarL Miscellany^ voL ix. pp. 246-8, ed. Park 


As nature hath endued your shapes {Euph. i. 

With exquisite perfection ; 202-3) 

And gives you choyse of sweete deb'ghts. 

Wherein you have affection : 
When time hath runne his course in you, 5 

The selfe-same nature saies — 
That all these daintie toyes must die, 

Whereof you made your praise. 

Marke how the yeere in course doth passe: 

Note first the plesant spring; 10 

The earth by nature then affoordes 

Full many a precious thing : 
Of fruits, of flowres, of wholsome hearbes 

We gather as we please ; 
And all things els we lacke beside, 15 

Our needfuU wants to ease. 

And likewise, in this pleasant time. 

We take delight to walke. 
To run and play at barley-breake, 

And in our gardens talke; 20 

One freend an other dooth invite, 

They feast and make good cheere ; 
Both rich and poore doo make pastime. 

At this time of the yeere. 

But wreakfull winter drawing on, 25 (Mar- 

Withdraweth these delights, Mariitu, 

And robbes us of them, one by one, ^^ 

As toyes and trifling sights. 
The scith cuttes downe the goodlie grasse, 

That grew so greene to day ; 30 

And all the sweete and pleasant flowers (No. 14 st. 

Are changed then to hay. ?Lv^^** 

The trees, that bragged in their leaves. 

The bitter blasts doo bight; 
And chaunge them from their goodly state 35 

To olde and withered plight: 
And they that flocked to the feeldes. 

When summer was so brave, 
Nowe closelie creepe about the fire 

For winter warmth will have. 40 

Compare we now the yeerely chaunge, 
With man's £4>pointed race, 



(No. a8 Who in the Aprill of his age 

u 25, &c.> Greene humours dooth embrace : 

And as Maie-flowers glad the eye, 

So in his youthfiill time, 
Man compasseth a world of joyes, 5 

Whereto his thoughts doo dime. 

Behold, likewise, dame Beautie's gyrles. 

Whose daintie mindes are such, 
As not the sun-shine, nor the wind, 
Must their faire faces touch : lo 

i^Euph. Theyr maskes, their fannes, and all the toyes, 

Jj *55 That wanton heads can crave, 

• 5 »*14*/ Jq maintaine beautie in her pride. 

These prancking dames must have. 

But elder yeeres approching on 15 

A little every dale, 
Their daintie beautie dooth decline, 

And vanisheth away. 
And as colde Winter chaseth hence 

The pleasant Sununer daies, 20 

So withered age encountreth youth. 

Amidst his wanton waies. 

You that thinke scome of auncient age. 

And hold him in contempt, 
To make of beautie such a price, 25 

And to vaine thoughts are bent 
Remember Nature yeelds to course. 

And course his race will have, 
From the first howre of your byrth 

Untill you come to grave. 30 

Age is an honour unto them 

That live to see the same. 
And none but vaine and foolish hands 

Will blot olde age with blame; 
Who oftentimes are soone cut off, 35 

And not so happy blest. 
To see the dayes their fathers did, 

Before they went to rest. 

Thrise happy they that spend their youth 
In good and vertuous wise. 40 

Forsaking all such vaine desires 
As wanton heads surmise, 


And wholie doo direct themselves 

Unto his will that made them, 
Then Folly never can have power 

From Vertue to disswade them. 

II. Early Love-Poems: before 1580? 

16. (From Addit. MS, 22,601, ff. 56 V.-59 V.) <Cf. Euph. 

and SaphOf 
Who loues and would his suite should proue 5 passim) 

(To) winn his Mistress to his will, 

That she likes he must seeme to loue 

And what she loues coAend it still. 

Then at fitt time preferr yo' sute 

Let not sharpe answers strike yo^ mute. 10 

Their Castells on such ground are sett 
as vndermyninge may them take 
The walls so weake no strength can lett 
shott soone therein a breache will make 

Their forces are so weake within 15 

small pow' semes their forts to win. 

If men haue tongues to craue & pray 

aswell as women to deny 

No stronger is their no or nay 

then force of wise mens yes or L 20 

For mens perswations stronger are 

then womens noes are much by fiarr. 

Their no is weake & blunt also 

such weapons weakely do defend 

Mens yea so sharpe will pierce their no 25 

and Conquer them if they contend. 

Then feare not force, where force is none 

least feare yo' force do ouercome 

There Sex withstands not place (if fitt{)) 

no{r) speache, for be she base or hie 30 

A womans ey doth guide hir witt 

hir witt doth neuer guide hir eye 

Then senceles is he y* can speake 

feares to the best his loue to breake. 

46o POEMS 

The brauer mart the better matche 

and willinger of all is sought 

And willinge sute doth euer catche 

foule Vulcan so faire Venus cought 
{Euph. ii. Were she a Quene she would be wonne 5 

53 *• ^5/ if cuningly yo'^ race you runne. 

(,Sapfu>, ii. He that can rubb hir gamesome vaine 

^ ^ ^^ and also temper toyes with art 

Makes Loue swim at hir eies amaine 

and so to diue into hir hart lo 

Their Sex are weake, weake forts canott 
w^J'stand the force of Canon shott. 

I argue not of hir estate 

but all my rest I sett on this 
(^Euph/\\. That oportunity will mate 15 

53 "• ^5 and winn the coyest she y* is. 

Laves Met, ^^' ^^ ^^ Courted they desire 

ii. I. Ill) to further pleasure to aspire. 

{Euph^ix, The towne w^^ will to pariy coi&e 

105 11.17- ^jjj y^i^ ^Q peace (though hye in state) 20 

And those no doubt will soone be wonne 

y^ courtinge loue which none do hate. 

If bloody warres they ment to vse 
perswations milde they would refuse. 

Although they seeme to scome loues beck 25 

and in all shew the same to hate 
(^Euph, i. And though at first they giue y^ check 

21311.6-7) at last they gladly take the mate. 

for pleasure they to play beginn 

in sport they lose in sport they winn. 30 

(5a/A. i. 4. In words & lookes theis Ladies braue 

4^~7) haue coye disdaine voide of loues fire 

But in their mindes & harts they haue 
a feruent and a bote desire. 

Reiectinge words mens suits deny 35 

alluringe iestures do say yea. 

{Euph, ii. Courtinge makes them stoope to lure 

119 ^^> and guiftes reclaimes them to the fist 

*3"5/ And with y* bridle and saddle sure 

you well may ride them where yo^ list 40 

In such cariers they run on still 
yt yo^ may breake yo' Launce at wilL 

(^Safh, ii. 
4. 66-9> 


If bewtifuU a Lady be 

with praises great you must hir moue: 

If witty then be wonn will she 

w**» fine conceites the art of loue. 

If coye she be w**' prayers sue, 5 

if proude then guifts must pleade for youe. {Iff.) 

If Couetous she be indeede 

with promises you must assay: 

If wayward then w**' force proceede. 

but all the fault on bewtie lay: 10 

And in one instant also vse 

some rare delight w^^ a iust excuse. 

Sayinge thus: yo'^ bewty doth me drawe 

and eke compell me this to doe 

No faulte in me for as the strawe 15 

drawne by pure lett must leape thereto {Euph. i. 

So I beinge forc'd deserue no blame 228 1. 25) 

sith that yo' bewty forc'd the same. 

When you haue don no doubt but she 

the better like and loue you will 20 

faire Helen may example be 

ho we Menelaus she hated still 

His softnes made him woo in vaine 

she did his humblenes disdaine. 

Enforcinge Paris she did loue 25 iSaph.n,A, 

and like for forcinge hir so well 93-5) 

That greatest dangers she would proue 
with him for to remaine & dwell. 

yet she confest as it was righte 

the Gretian was the better knighte. 30 

But Menelaus takes hart, and soe (£uM i. 

by force recouers hir againe 234 U. a8- 

By force makes hir with him to goe 3c>) 

by force enioyes hir not in vaine 

for when he manlike Deedes did vse 35 

to yeld to him she could not chuse. 

And she y^ neuer like him coulde 

for seruice and for reuerence 

Did euer after deare him holde 

and loue him eke for violence 40 

Tis modesty that they refraine 

what they refuse they would haue faine. 

41 that they] they not AfS. 

462 POEMS 

Though women striue & disagree 
they meane not for to ouercofhe, 
Though they full angrie seeme to be 
well pleas'd they are when well tis done. 

They would not striue nor yet denye 5 

but y^ mens forces they would trye. 

The modestie of Men I finde 

they like not, yef it praises lend 

They hate the fearefull dasterd minde 

that offers not for feare t' offend 10 

Then feare not for to beard the best 

kindely they kindenes will digest. 

If that she do dislike before 

you do attempt hir for to win, 

Then she can do at last no more 15 

howe euer you hir vse therein. 

With lyinge still no forte is gott 

nor Castell battered w^^ut shott. 

And women thinke there is no fire 

where they no sparkes of furie see 20 

for to be courted they desire 

though they in shew displeased bee. 

In womens mouthes in case of loue 

no, no negatiue will proue. 

A womas hart and tongue by Idnde 25 

should not be Relatiues alwaye 

Neither is y* Prouerbe true I finde 

What hart doth thinke, y^ tongue doth say 

They like y^ Lapwinge off do fiye 

and farthest from their Nests do crye. 30 

They vse denialls & sharpe quippes 
not for because they do not loue 
But partly for to shew their witts 
and eke mens constancie to proue« 

Though they refuse it will appeare 35 

tis but th' obtayninge to endeare. 

If women were not frendly foes 

beinge hable for to ouercome 

They would not softly strike w*** noes 

nor yet vnto a parley cofifie. 40 

Or if mens suites they did disdaine 

to answer them they would refraine. 


Take heede do not at first shott yelde 
their tongues will once the battell sounde 
At last you sure shall winn the field 
if that you well, will keepe yo' grounde 

If that y^ forte she hold out longe 5 

the next assaults then make more stronge. 

When as a fearfuU Horsman backs 

a ready horse the horse will bounde 

And for to leape he neuer slacks 

till he hath throwne him to the grounde 10 

But if a horsman good he finde 

will sitt him close he yeldes by kinde. 

Vnworthy life y* Hounde we deeme 

w^^ giues y« chase of at first fault {£upk, ii. 

So of such men they not esteeme 15 '3© 1- a8) 

for one repulse w^^ leaues th* assault 

That loue is weakely built they knowe 

w*^^ one denyall downe doth blowe. 

If y^ in chase so ill you holde 

as for one faulte to leaue the same 20 

They will suppose yo' suite is colde 

and thinke you care not for y^ game. 

for women this account do make 

they will say no and yet will take. 

The Souldio' faint w«^ standeth still 25 iEuph. ii. 

in battell fearing Enemies sight 106 L la) 

Is sooner slaine then he y* will 
the brauest onsett giue in fighte 

Then if you loue be not afraide 

to beard the best as I haue saide. 30 

17. (From Rawlimon MS. Poet. 148, ff. 2-3.) 

Of Hngeringe Loue. <CtN<^^ 

I. In Hngeringe Loue mislikinge growes^ 
Wherby our fancies ebbs and fiowes : 
We love to day, and hate to mome, 
And dayly wher we list to scome. 35 

Take heede therfore, 
If she mislike, then love no more : 

Quicke speed makes waste, 
Loue is not gotten in such haste. 



(^Euph. ii. 
105 1. 17 
and No. 18, 

{^Eupk. ii. 
149 1. 30 ; 
No. 18 
St. 6) 

i^Euph. ii. 

81, 95. 

2. The sute is colde that soone is done, 
The forte is feeble easly wonne: 

The haulke that soone comes by her pray, 
may take a Toye and sore away. 

Marke what means this, 
Some thincke to hitt & yet they misse: 

ffirst creepe, then goe, 
Me thinke(s) our loue is handled soe. 

3. fibr lacke of Bellowes the fire goes out, 
Some say, the next way is about: 

ffew thinges are had without some sute, 
The tree at first will beare no fruite. 

Seme longe, Hope well, 
Loe heere is all that I can tell: 

Tyme tries out troth. 
And troth is likt' wher ere it goth. 

4. Some thincke all theirs that they doe seeke, 
Some wantons wooe but for a weeke: 
Some wooe to shew their subtile witte. 
Such Palfreyes play vpon their bitte, 

ffine heads god knowes, 
That plucke a nettle for a rose: 

They meete their mach, 
And fare tlie woorsse because they snach. 

5. We silly women can not rest, 

for Men that love to woe in iest : 
Some lay their baite in ev'ry nooke, 
And ev'ry fish doth spie their hooke. 

Ill ware, good cheape, 
Which makes vs looke before we leape; 

Craft, can cloke much, 
God saue all simple soules from such. 

6. Though lingeringe Loue be lost some while. 
Yet lingeringe louers laugh and smile: 
Who will not linger for a day. 

May banish hope and happ away. 

Loue must be plide, 
Who thinckes to sayle must wayte y® tide: 

Thus ends this dance: 
God send all ling'rers happie chance. 









36 May] To Park 



18. {From QXtmaktYLc^Araxm^n A Hande/ull of Pleasant DeU^^ 15S4.) 

A Warning for Wooers^ 

that they be not over hastie, nor deceived with 

womens beautie. 

To—' Salisburie Plaine.* 

Ye loving wormes, come leame of me, 5 

The plagues to leave that linked be; 
The grudge, the grief, the gret anoy, 
The fickle faith, the fading ioy, 

In time take heed ; 
In fruitlesse soile sow not thy seed : 10 

Buie not, with cost, (Cam/, t. 

The thing that yeelds but labour lost. 3; 3© note ; 

If Cupids dart do chance to light, iotlV^ 

So that affection dimmes thy sight; 
Then raise up reason, by and by, 15 

With skill thy heart to fbrtifie; 

Where is a breach. 
Oft times too late doth come the Leach : 

Sparks are put out, <No. 41* 

When furnace flames do rage about. 20 ^ "/ 

Thine owne delay must win the field. 
When lust doth leade thy heart to yeeld: 
When steed is stolne, who makes al fast, 
May go on foot for al his haste : 

In time shut gate, 25 

For had I wist, doth come too late: 

Fast bind, fast find ; 
Repentance alwaies commeth behind. 

The Syrens tunes oft time beguiles, (Cf. 

So doth the teares of Crocodiles ; 30 ^aagery, 

But who so leames Ulysses lore, stt'a-3> 

May passe the seas, and win the shore. 

Stop eares, stand fast, 
Through Cupids trips, thou shalt him cast; 

Flie baits, shun hookes, 35 

Be thou not snarde with lovely lookes. 

No. 1 8. As reprinted in Park's * Helicmia^ vol, ii. pp, 5.^-7. He also gave part 
of it in * Censura Literaria,* i. 143-6 6 leave] qy, f love 


466 POEMS 

Where Venus hath the maisterie, 

There love hath lost her libertie : 

Where love doth win the victorie, 

The fort is sackt with crueltie. 

First look, then leap, 5 

In suretie so your skinnes you keepe; 
(Mar' The snake doth sting, 

^^^' "7- That lurking lieth with hissing. 

{Euph. Where Cupids fort hath made a waie, 

p '®5 There grave advise doth beare no swaie ; 10 

*' Where love doth raigne, and rule the roste. 

There reason is exilde the coast: 

Like all, love none, 

Except ye use discretion : 

<i?ai>l.lL First try, then trust, 15 

149 1.30; Be not deceived with sinful lust. 

Na 17 St. 


Marke Priams sonne, his fond devise, 

When Venus did obtaine the prise ; 

For Pallas skil, and Junoes strength, 

He chose that bred his bane, at length. 20 

Choos wit, leave wil, 
Let Helen be with Paris stil : 

Amis goeth al 
Wher fancie forceth fooles to fall. 

Where was there found a happier wight 25 

Than Troylus was, til love did light ? 
What was the end of Romeus ? 
Did he not die, like Piramus? 
Who baths in blis, 
{Loves Let him be mindful of I phis : 30 

'^K Who seeks to plese, 

(ih.wiit May ridden be, like Hercules, 


I lothe to tel the peevish brawles, 

And fond delights, of Cupids thrawles ; 

Like Momish mates of Midas mood, 35 

They gape to get that doth no good : 

Now down, now up, 
As tapsters use to tosse the cup: 

One breedelh ioy, 
Another breeds as great anoy. 40 


Some love for wealth, and some for hue, 

And none of both these loves are true : 

For when the mil hath lost her sailes, 

Then must the miller lose his vailes : (^Euph. ii. 

Of grasse commeth hay, 5 134 "• ^^~ 

And flowers faire wil soon decay: st!'i^ ' 

Of ripe commeth rotten ; (No. 39 

In age al beautie is forgotten. stt a-3) 

Some loveth too hie, and some too lowe. 

And of them both great griefs do grow ; 10 

And some do love the common sort. 

And common folke use common sport. 

Looke not too hie. 
Least that a chip fall in thine eie : (^Euph. ii. 

But hie or lowe, 15 ^'9 L 25) 

Ye may be sure she is a shrow. 

But, Sirs, I use to tell no tales; 

£ch fish that swims doth not beare scales ; {^Euph, i. 

In everie hedge I find not thomes ; *^^ ^^^ 

Nor everie beast doth carrie homes: 20 

I sale not so. 
That everie woman causeth wo: 

That were too broad ; 
Who loveth not venom, must shun the tode. 

Who useth still the truth to tel, 25 

May blamed be, though he saie wel: 
Say crowe is white, and snowe is blacke, 
Lay not the fault on woman's backe; 

Thousands wer6 good, 
But few scapte drowning in Noes flood : 30 

Most are wel bent; 
I must say so, least I be shent. 


H h a 

468 POEMS 

19. (Prom Clement Robinson's A Handefull of Pleasant DeliteSy 1584.) 

<Cf. Enph. A Proper Sofiet, 

to LnciUa, 

1.339-40; intituled, 'I smile to see how you devise.' 

iv V pass. • ^° ^"^'^ pleasant Tune. 

andNo.47> j g^jjig ^q g^^ jj^^ yQ^ devise 

New masking nets my eies to bleare ; 5 

Your self you cannot so disguise, 
But as you are, you must appeare. 

Your privie winkes at boord I see, 
And how you set your raving mind : 

Your self you cannot hide from me, 10 

Although I wincke, I am not blind. 

The secret sighs, and fained cheare. 
That oft doth paine thy carefull brest, 

To me right plainly doth appeare ; 
I see in whom thy hart doth rest. 15 

And though (thou) makest a fained vow, 
That love no more thy heart should nip ; 

Yet think I know, as well as thou. 
The fickle helm doth guide the ship. 

The salamander in the fire, 20 

By course of kinde, doth bathe his limmes : 

The floting fish taketh his desire 

In running streames, whereas he swimmes. 

(No. 47 So thou in change doth take delight ; 

*^ 3> Ful wel I know thy slipperie kinde : 25 

In vaine thou seemst to dim my sight, 
Thy rowling eies bewraieth thy minde. 

(/^. St. 4) I see him smile, that doth possesse 

Thy love, which once I honoured most: 
If he be wise, he may well gesse, 30 

Thy love, soon won, wil soon be lost. 

And sith thou canst no man intice. 
That he should stil love thee alone ; 

Thy beautie now hath lost her price, 
I see thy savorie sent is gone. 35 

No. 19. j4s reprinted in Parkas ^Heiiconia* vol, ii. //. 65-7. lie also gave it 
in * Cens, Lit^ i. 143-6 


Therefore, leave off thy wonted plaie ; 
But as thou art thou wilt appeare, 
~ Unlesse thou canst devise a waie 

To dark the sun, that shines so rieare. 

And keep thy friend, that thou hast won ; 5 

In trueth to him thy love supplie ; 
Least he at length, as I have done, 

Take off thy belies, and let thee flie. 

20. (From Addit. MS, 15,232, f. 12 v.) 

O happ moste harde where truthe doth most beguyle 

O churlishe chaunce where love gives caus to loth 10 

O face moste fals w^^ frowneth by a smyle 

O fayned faithe w^^ loves and hateth both 

My saftye stayes where dainger ever bydes 

My settled truste standes faste one waveringe doutt 

No steddfaste staye is that w<>^ ever slydes 15 

Displeased contente still neither in nor oute{.) 

To maske my mynde where moste yt woulde be seen (Cf. No. 

To hyde my hurtes where healinge handes should helpe 10) 

To saye a naye where soothe doth beste beseeme 

Shewes but a foole one Mother Cowardes whelpe 20 

Wherefor I dare saye as I saide before 

And faine woulde doe yf donne I live no more 

III. Four Songs 

(to replace some missing from the plays) 

21. (From Thomas Morley*t First Booke of BcUletts^ 1600 : No. 4.) 

Sing wee and chaunt it, <Cf. Ctmp, 

While loue doth graunt it. ^ ^idMiM 

Fa la la la. 25 gong 

Not long youth lasteth, between 

And old age hasteth, Sl!!!^ 

. , 1 Phrygins, 

Now IS best leysure, and Lais) 

To take our pleasure. 

Fa la la la. 30 

No. 30. The MS., which includes some of the ' Astrophel and Stella * sonnets in 
a hand like Sidney's^ has been associated, on no good authority , with his sister and 
Wilton. Thh last line of this sonnet suggests Donne* s habit of punning on his 
name ; but I trace him nowhere else in the MS, No. ai. Also in * Cens, Lit.* 

ii. 88, and Bullen's * Lyrics from Song-Books, p. 211 



All things inuite vs, 
Now to delight vs. 

Fa la la la. 
Hence care be packing, 
No mirth bee lacking, 
Let spare no treasure, 
To Hue in pleasure. 

Fa la la la. 


EfuUm, it 
3. 40 ' sing 
ment for 

22. (From HarL MS. (c. 1596) 6910, f. 164.) 

Sleepe, Deathes alye, obliuion of teares. 

Silence of Passions, balme of angrie sore 
Suspence of loues, Securitie of feares 
Wraths Lenatiue, Hearts ease, stormes calmest shore, 
Senses and Soules repriuall from all Combers 
Benuming sense of ill with quiet slumbers 


^Cf. En- 
ii. I. 39- 
43, 3- i-ao, 

<No. 63 
1. a8> 

28. (From TAe Phcsnix Nest, 1593.) 

(Possibly the missing song of Geron, in Endim. iii. 4. i.) 

Like to a Hermite poore in place obscure, 15 

I meane to spend my daies of endles doubt, 
To waile such woes as time cannot recure. 

Where none but Loue shall euer finde me out. 

My foode shall be of care and sorow made, 

My drink nought else but teares falne from mine eies, 20 

And for my light in such obscured shade, 

The flames shall seme, which from my hart arise. 

A gowne of graie, my bodie shall attire. 

My staffe of broken hope whereon He staie. 
Of late repentance linckt with long desu-e, 25 

The couch is fram'de whereon my limbes lie lay. 

And at my gate dispaire shall linger still. 
To let in death when Loue and Fortune will. 

No. a a. Also printed in Brydges* * Excerpta Tudoriana^ vol, i./. 16. 

No. a 3. Also in HarL MS. 6910,/. 139. Park {^ Helicofiia* vol, ii./. 153) notes 
* These are the original words of the celebrated song set by Alfonso Ferabosco and 
Nicholas Laniere^ and referred to by Wcdton in his ** Complete Angler^'' by North in 
his life of the Lord- Keeper Guildford, by Phineas Fletcher in his metaphrase of the 
^2dpscUmt and by Butler in part i. canto a, of^^IIudibras.*^ * Dr. Hannah printed 
it among ^ Raleigh^ s Poems ' 1875, /. i a, with note ^Ascribed to Raleigh in " To day 
a MaUy tomorrow none** 1643-4; Kin^s Pamphlets B. M, vol. 139. // is 
anonvmousin '' Phetn. Nest'* p. 60; in '* Tixall Poetry" p. 115/ in Rawl. MS. 
^Sf/' ^^v. ; in Hart. MS. 6910,/; 139 v., dr*^.' 


24. (From John Dowiand't Secohd Booke cf Songs or Ayres^ 1600 : 

No. I.) 

(Cf. Woman in the Moone^ i. i. 224: the missing song of the Shepherds 

to cakn Pandora.) 

I saw my Lady weepe, 
And sorrow proud to bee aduanced so, 
In those faire eies, where all perfections keepe : 

Hir face was full of woe. 
But such a woe (beleeue me) as wins more hearts, 5 

Then mirth can doe with hir intysing parts. 

Sorow was there made faire, 
And passion wise, teares a delightfull thing, 
Silence beyond all speech a wisdome rare, 

Shee made hir sighes to sing, 10 

And all things with so sweet a sadnesse moue, 
As made my heart at once both grieue and loue. 

O fayrer then ought ells. 
The world can shew, leaue of in time to grieue, 
Inough, inough, your ioyfull lookes excells, 15 

Teares kills the heart belieue, 
O striue not to bee excellent in woe, 
Which onely breeds your beauties ouerthrow. 

IV. Later Love-Poems. 

25. (From WiUiam Byrd't Psolmes^ Sonets, &* songs, 1 588 .* No. 25.) (Cf. No. 


Farewell false loue, the oracle of lyes, 

A mortal foe, & enimie to rest : 20 

An enuious boy, from whome all cares aryse, 
A bastard vile, a beast with rage possest: 

A way of error, a temple ful of treason. 

In all effects contrarie vnto reason. 

A poysoned serpent couered all with flowers, 25 (Cf, 

Mother of sighes, and murtherer of repose, l?^*^©?* 

A sea of sorows fro wh?ce are draw? such showers, ®* ' 

As moysture lend to euerie g^efe that growes, 
A school of guile, a net of deepe deceit, 
A guilded hooke, that holds a poysoned bayte. 30 

Nos. 24-5 also in BulUtCs * Lyrics from Elizabethan Song-Books ^ pp, 13, 144 ; 
and No. 25 in * Censura Literaria^ ii. 115. No authors suggested 

472 POEMS 

A fortress foyled, which reason did defend, 

A Syren song, a feauer of the minde, 

A maze wherein affection finds no ende, 

A raging cloude that runnes before the wmde, 

A substance like the shadow of the Sunne, 5 

A goale of griefe for which the wisest runne. 

A quenchlesse fire, a nurse of trembling feare, 

A path that leads to perill and mishap, 

A true retreat of sorrow and dispayre, 

An idle boy that sleepes in pleasures lap, 10 

A deepe mistrust of that which certaine seemes, 
A hope of that which reason doubtfiill deemes. 


26. (Prom William Byrd*t Scngs of sundrie natures ^ 1589 : No. 10.) 

When younglyngs first on Cupide fyxe their sight, 
ILovesMet, And see him naked, blyndfold & a boy, 15 

3.1.51-61) Though bow & shafts and fier-brand be his might. 

Yet weene they he can worke them none annoy. 

And therefore with his purpill wings they play. 
For glorious semeth loue though light as father. 

And when they haue done they weene to skape away, 20 

For blynd men, say they, shoote they know not whether. 

But when by proofe they finde that he did see, 
& that his wound did rather dym their sight. 

They wonder more how such a lad as he. 

Should be of such surpassing powre and might : 25 

{EufA, ii. But Ants haue gals, so hath the Bee his styng, 

90}' ^i» Then sheeld me heauens from such a subtyle thing, 

and N08. 

27. (From William Bjrrd*t Songs of sutidrie natures, 1589 : No. 3a) 

When I was otherwise then now I am, 

I loued more but skilled not so much: 
(^GaU,vr, Fayre wordes and smyles could haue contented than, 30 

/f'^loM* ^y simple age & ignorance was such: 

p.474l.'5; ^"^ ** *^^ length experience made me wonder, 

Sudeky, That harts & tongues did lodge so farre asunder. 

p. 4^9 L 14, 

&c.) As watermen which on the Teames do row 

(JSndim, Looke to the East, but West keepes on the way, 35 

iv. a. 57> 

No, a6. Also in BtUUrCs ' Lyrics from Eiiaabethan Song-Books,' p. 7 a 



My Soueraigne sweet, her countenance setled so, 
To feede my hope while she her snares might laye. 
And when she sawe that I was in her danger, 
Good God, how soone she proued then a ranger. 

I could not choose but laugh although to late. 

To see great craft diszifered in a toye, 

I loue her still, but such conditions hate. 

Which so prophanes my Paradice of ioy. 

Loue whetts the witts, whose paine is but a pleasure, 
A toy, by fitts, to play withall at leasure. 

5 (^Euph, i. 

238 1. a8; 
i?^, St. ii) 


28. (From Addit. MS, 22,601, f. 26.) 

A Gentlewoman y* married a yonge Gent who after 
forsooke (hir,) where vppon she tooke hir Needle 
in w«*» she was excelSt & wo'ked 
vpo hir Sampler thus 

Come, giue me needle, stitch cloth, silke & chaire 

y^ I may sitt and sigh, and sow & singe 
For perfect cooUo's to discribe y* aire 

a subtile persinge changinge constant thinge 
No false stitch will 1 make, my hart is true 

plaine stitche my Sampler is for to coplaine 
How men haue tongues of hony, harts of rue. 

true tongues & harts are one, men makes them twaine. 
Giue me black silk y^ sable suites my hart 

& yet som white though white words do deceiue 
No green at all for youth & I must part 

Purple & blew, fast loue & faith to weaue. 
May den no more sleepeless ile goe to bedd 
Take all away, y^ work works in my hedd. 


P- 474 1. 

20 ^ 
<No. 39 

St. 3> 
<No. a;) 

25 <P.458 
U. i-a> 

29. (From The Phamix Nest^ 1593.) 

Feede still thy selfe, thou fondling with beliefe. 
Go hunt thy hope, that neuer tooke effect, 

Accuse the wrongs that oft hath wrought thy griefe, 
And reckon sure where reason would suspect. 


No. 28. Printed with others from the same MS, in vol, V9 of Early Eng. Poetry^ 
Ballads, ifc, Percy Society (* Poetical Miscellanies^ No, iv) No. 29. TMs and the 
next seven poems, as well as Nos, 6 and 33, are taken from Colliers reprint of 
* The Phanix Nest* in * Seven English Poetical Miscellanies; 1867, ^' i^ 

474 POEMS 

Dwell in the dreames of wish and vaine desire, 
Pursue the faith that flies and seekes to new, 

Run after hopes that mocke thee with retire. 
And looke for loue where liking neuer grew. 

Deuise conceits to ease thy carefull hart, 5 

Trust vpon times and daies of grace behinde, 

Presume the rights of promise and desart, 
And measure loue by thy beleeuing minde. 

Force thy affects that spite doth daily chace, 
Winke at thy wrongs with wiifull ouersight, lo 

See not the soyle and staine of thy disgrace, 
Nor recke disdaine, to doate on thy delite. 

And when thou seest the end of thy reward, 
And these effects ensue of thine assault, 

When rashnes rues, that reason should regard, 15 

Yet still accuse thy fortune for the fault. 

And crie, O Loue, O death, O vaine desire. 

When thou complainst the heate, and feeds(t) the fire. 

80. (From The Phcmix Nest y 1593.) 

{C£ Those eies which set my fancie on a fire, 

^®' 3^) Those crisped haires, which hold my hart in chains, 20 

Those daintie hands, which conquer'd my desire. 
That wit, which of my thoughts doth hold the rains. 

Those eies for cleerenes doe the Starrs surpas, 

Those haires obscure the brightnes of the Sunne, 

Those hands more white, than euer luorie was, 25 

That wit euen to the skies hath glorie woon. 

O eies that pearce our harts without remorse, 

O haires of right that weares a roiall crowne, 

O hands that conquer more than Caesars force, 

O wit that turns huge kingdoms vpside downe. 30 

Then Loue be Judge, what hart can thee withstand: 
Such eies, such haire, such wit, and such a hand. 

10 thy] the Collier No. 30. Also given in Mr. Bullen^s * Lyrics from Eliza- 
bethan Song- Books ^ from William Barley's * New Book of Tabliture^ '.S96, whert 
ike closing couplet is wrongly placed as IL 5-6 : * A free rendering of Desportes* 
sonnet, '' Du bei odl de Diane est ma flamme empnint^/* ' p. 331 23 doth 

Sullen a8 wear Bullen 31 can thee withstand] may therewith stand 

Builen 3a haire] head Bullen 



31. (From The Phcenix Nest, 1593.) <Cf. No. 

Those eies that holds the hand of euery hart, 

Those hands that holds the hart of euery eie, 

That wit that goes beyond all natures art. 

That sence, too deepe, for wisdome to descrie, 

That eie, that hand, that wit, that heauenly sence, 5 

All these doth show my Mistres Excellence. 

Oh eies that perce into the purest hart, 

Oh hands that hold, the highest harts in thrall. 
Oh wit that weyes the deapth of all desart, 
Oh sence that showes the secret sweete of all, 10 

The heauen of heauens, with heuenly powrs preserue thee, 
Loue but thy selfe, and giue me leaue to serue thee. 

To serue, to Hue, to looke vpon those eies. 

To looke, to Hue, to kisse that heauenlie hand. 
To sound that wit, that doth amaze the wise, 15 

To knowe that sence, no sence can vnderstand, 
To vnderstande that all the world may know. 
Such wit, such sence, eies, hands, there are no moe. 

32. (From The Phoenix Nest^ 1 593-) 

By wracke late driuen on shore, from Cupids Crare, 

Whose sailes of error, sighes of hope and feare, 20 

Conueied through seas of teares, and sands of care. 

Till rocks of high disdaine, hir sides did teare, 

I write a dirge, for dolefull doues to sing. 

With selfe same quill, I pluckt from Cupids wing. 

Farewell vnkinde, by whom I fare so ill, 25 

Whose looks bewitcht my thoughts with false surmise, 

Till forced reason did vnbinde my will. 

And shewed my hart, the follie of mine eies, 
And saide, attending where I should attaine, 
Twixt wish and want, was but a pleasing paine. 30 

Farewell vnkinde, my floode is at an ebbe 

My troubled thoughts, are tumd to quiet wars. 

My fancies hope hath spun and spent hir webbe. 

My former wounds are closed vp with skars, {Life i. a6 

As ashes lie, long since consumde with fire, 35 (Letter)) 

So is my loue, so now is my desire. 

31 floode] floate Collier 

476 POEMS 

Farewell vnkinde, my first and finalljoue, 

Whose coie contempts, it bootes not heere to name, 

But gods are iust, and euery star aboue, 

Doth threat reuenge, where faiths reward is blame, 

And I may liue, though your despised thrall, < 

By fond mischoyce, to see your fortunes £alL 

Farewell vnkinde, most cruell of your kinde, 
By whom my worth, is drowned in disdaines. 
As was my loue, so is your iudgement blinde, 
My fortune ill, and such hath beene my gaines, ic 

But this for all, I list no more to sale, 
Farewell faire proude, not lifes, but loues decaie. 

88, (F*Dm The PhcmixNest^ 1593-) 



Caxde^ Declare, O minde, from fond desires excluded, 

Euph,}^ That thou didst find erewhile, by Loue deluded. 15 


An eie, the plot, whereon Loue sets his gin, 

Beautie, the trap, wherein the heedles fall, 

A smile, the traine, that drawes the simple in, 

Sweete words, the wilie instrument of all, 

Intreaties posts, faire promises are charmes, 2C 

Writing, the messenger, that wooes our harmes. 

Mistresse, and seruant, titles of mischaunce : 
Commaundments done, the act of slauerie, 
Their coulors worne, a clownish cQgnisaunce, 
And double dutie, pettie drudgerie, 25 

And when she twines and dallies with thy locks. 
Thy freedome then is brought into the stocks. 

To touch hir hand, hir hand bindes thy desire, 

To weare hir ring, hir ring is Nessus gift, 

To feele hir brest, hir brest doth blowe the fire, 3c 

To see hir bare, her bare a baleful drift. 
To baite thine eies thereon, is losse of sight. 
To thinke of it, confounds thy senses quite. 

Kisses the keies, to sweete consuming sin, 

Closings, Cleopatras adders at thy brest, 3: 

{Eufh. ii. ' Fained resistance then she will begin, 

131 1. 34) ^^j ygj vnsatiable in all the rest, 

And when thou doost vnto the act proceede. 
The bed doth grone, and tremble at the deede. 


Beautie, a siluer dew that fdls in May, 
Loue is an Egshell, with that humor fild, 
Desire, a winged boy, comming that way, 
Delights and dallies with it in the field, 

The firie Sun, drawes vp the shell on hie, 5 

Beautie decaies, Loue dies, desire doth flie. 

Vnharmd giue eare, that thing is haply caught, {Eu^h, i. 

That cost some deere, if thou maist ha't for naught. ' 9 !• i4> 

34. (From The Phomix Nest, 1593.) 

The Description of lealousie. <Cf. Euph. 

ii. 226 1.10; 
A seemg friend, yet enimie to rest, 10 

A wrangling passion, yet a gladsom thought, 
A bad companion, yet a welcom g^est, 

A knowledge wisht, yet found too soone vnsought. 
From heauen supposde, yet sure condemn'd to hell, 
Is lealousie, and there forlome doth dwell. 15 

And thence doth send fond feare and false suspect, <Cf. No. 

To haunt our thoughts bewitched with mistrust, ?? ^^~ 

Which breedes in vs the issue and effect. 

Both of conceits and actions far vniust. 
The griefe, the shame, the smart wherof doth proue, 20 

That Iealousie*s both death and hell to Loue. 

For what but hell moues in the iealous hart. 

Where restles feare works out all wanton ioyes. 
Which doth both quench and kill the louing part, 

And cloies the minde with worse than knowne annoyes, 25 
Whose pressure far exceeds hells deepe extreemes, 
Such life leads Loue entangled with misdeemes. 

86. (From The Phcenix Nest, 1593.) 

Short is my rest, whose toile is ouerlong, 

My ioyes are darke, but cleere I see my woe, 
My safe tie small : great wracks I bide by wrong, 30 

Whose time is swift, and yet my hap but sloe. 
Each griefe and wound, in my poore hart appeeres, 
That laugheth howres, and weepeth many yeeres. 

Deedes of the day, are fables for the night, 

Sighes of desire, are smoakes of thoughtfull teares, 35 {LovesMet. 

iv I. ii^i^ 
No. 35. 4iso in Harl, MS, 6910, f. 148 

478 POEMS 

My steps are false, although my paths be right, 

Disgrace is bolde, and fauor full of feares, 
Disquiet sleepe, keepes audit of my life, 
Where rare content, doth make displeasure rife. 

The dolefull bell, that is the voice of time, 5 

Cals on my end, before my haps be seene. 

Thus fals my hopes, whose harmes haue power to clime, 
Not come to haue that long in wish hath beene, 

I seeke your loue, and feare not others hate. 

Be you with me, and I haue Csesars state. 10 

<Ci: End. 86. (From The Phoenix Nest, 1593.) 

Praisd be Dianas faire and harmles light, 
Ib\,2,%o) Praisd be the dewes, wherwith she moists the ground; 

lb, and Praisd be hir beames, the glorie of the night, 

Praisd be hir powre, by which all powres abound. 

Praisd be hir Nimphs, with whom she decks the woods, 15 
Praisd be hir knights, in whom true honor Hues, 
(73. i. 1.38) Praisd be that force, by which she moues the floods. 

Let that Diana shine, which aU these giues. 

In heauen Queene she is, among the spheares, 
In ay(er) she Mistres like makes all things pure, 20 

(73.) Etemitie in hir oft chaunge she beares, 

She b«autie is, by hir the faire endure. 

^7^. i.1.57. Time weares hu* not, she doth his chariot guide, 

ii. I. 85) Mortalitie belowe hir orbe is plaste, 

By hir the vertue of the Starrs doune slide, 25 

In hir is vertues perfect image cast : 

A knowledge pure it is hir worth to kno, 

<P. 439 1. With Circes let them dwell that thinke not so. 

3a, &c> 


87. (From John Dowland't First Booke of Songes or Ayres, 1597 : No. 3.) 

Cf. No. I My thoughts are wingde with hop{e)s, my hop{e)s with loue, 

11. 1 a, 16, Moilt loue vnto the moone in cleerest night, 30 


18, 35, 3o> 

No. 36. Also in ^ Englands Helicon* i6oo» 161^, with title The Sheephemrds 
praise of his sacred Diana. Said to be signed S. W. R. ( ^ Sir Walter /^aleigA), with 
Ignoto printed on a slip pasted ozfer it in extant copies : in the Brit. Mus, copy there 
is neither slip nor signature, but signs of some erasure. Signed Ignoto, ea. 1614. 
It was printed, though without conviction^ among * RaleigKs Poems ' 1875, /. 77, by 
Dr. Hannah ao She Mistress-like makes all things to be pure : Bng. ffeL 

For ay qy. f earth No. 37. Also in * Eng. HeV 1600, 1614 with title Another to 


And say as she doth in the heauens mooue 

In earth so wanes & waxeth my delight: (^£ndim. 

And whisper this but softly in her eares, * ^ ^ 

Hope oft doth hang the head, and trust shed teares. 

And you my thoughts that some mistrust do cary, 5 

If for mistrust my mistrisse do you blame, 

Say though you alter, yet you do not varry, {Afui. ii. 

As she doth change, and yet remaine the same : i- 7-") 

Distrust doth enter harts, but not infect, {Endim, 

And loue is sweetest seasned with suspect. lo h. • 3o-9» 

If she for this, with cloudes do maske her eies, '5^7/ 

And make the heauens darke with her disdaine. 
With windie sighes disperse them in the skies, 
Or with thy teares dissolue them into raine ; 

Thoughts, hopes, & loue retume to me no more, 15 

Till Cynthia shine as she hath done before. 

38. (From Englands Helicon^ 1600.) 

A Nimphs disdaine of Loue. 

Hey downe a downe did Dian sing, 

amongst her Virgins sitting: 
Then loue there is no vainer thing, 20 

for Maydens most vnfitting, 
And so think I, with a downe downe derrie. 

When women knew no woe, 

but liuM them-selues to please: 

Mens fayning guiles they did not know, 25 {Euph,\i, 

the ground of their disease. 57 1^ ^5 

Vnbomc was false suspect, ff^io^Mci • 

no thought of iealousie : Laves Met, 

From wanton toyes and fond affect, v. 2.14-32; 

The Virgins life was free. 30 ^^ iv.i.a-) 
Hey downe a downe did Dian sing &c. 

his Cinthia, assigned in Fr. Davis&rCs MS, list to * Earle of Cumberland,^ Collier 
'lorongly reported Dowland as attributing it to Greville (* Bibl. Cat ') ; and Grosart 
included it in Greville^ s * Works ' ii. 1 33 « * much in the same win * a In] On 
E, //. sol Collier misprints she in ^ Seven Poetical Miscellanies * 16 Fol- 

lowed in E. H, by this note These three ditties were taken out of Maister lohn 
Dowlands booke of tabletuie for the Lute, the Authours names not there set downe, 
& therefore left to their owners ; the two preceding ones being * Come away, come 
sweet Louey and *Au*ay with these selflouing Lads' No. 38. Dr, Hannah rejects 
it from his * Kcdeigh's Poems* 1875, noting^ p. xxxi, that it was * claimed for 
Raleigh by Brydges and the Oxftnd editors* on the mere ground of the signature 
Ignoto 25 Mens] Collier misprints Mars 

48o POEMS 

At length men vsed charmcs, 

to which what Maides gaue eare : 
Embracing gladly endlesse harmes, 

anone enthralled were. 
Thus women welcom'd woe, 

disguis'd in name of loue : 
A iealous hell, a painted show, 

so shall they finde that proue. 

Hey downe a do\nie did Dian sing, 

amongst her Virgins sitting: 
Then loue there is no vainer thing, 
for Maydens most vnfitting. 
And so thinke I, with a downe downe derrie. 


Finis. ] 

89. (From Englands Helicon^ 1600.) 

The Nimphs reply to the Sheepheard. 

If all the world and loue were young, 
And truth in euery Sheepheards tongue, 
These pretty pleasures might me moue, 
To Hue with thee, and be thy loue. 

Time driues the flocks from field to fold, 
When Riuers rage, and Rocks grow cold. 
And Philomell becommeth dombe, 
The rest complaines of cares to come. 

(No. 18 The flowers doe fade & wanton fieldes, 

*^* *^) To wayward winter reckoning yeeldes, 

{Wom.\\,\» A honny tongue, a hart of gall, 

133; No. Is fancies spring, but sorrowes fall, 

21° &C.V '^^y gownes, thy shooes, thy beds of Roses, 

Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy poesies, 
Soone breake, soone wither, soone forgotten: 

(No. 18 In follie ripe, in reason rotten. 

St 10) 

Thy belt of straw and luie buddes, 
Thy Corall claspes and Amber studdes, 
All these in mee no meanes can moue, 
To come to thee, and be thy loue. 


But could youth last, and loue still breede, 
Had ioyes no date, nor age no neede, 
Then these delights my minde might moue, 
To Hue with thee, and be thy loue. 


Ignoto, 5 

40. (From Englands Helicon, 1600.) 

Another of the same nature^ made since. 

Come Hue with mee, and be my deere, 

And we will reuell all the yeere, . 

In plaines and groaues, on hills and dales: 10 

Where fragrant ayre breedes sweetest gales. 

There shall you haue the beauteous Pine, 

The Cedar, and the spreading Vine, 

And all the woods to be a Skreene : 

Least Phoebus kisse my Sommers Queene. 15 

The seate for your disport shall be 
Ouer some Riuer in a tree, 
Where siluer sands, and pebbles sing, 
Etemall ditties with the spring. 

There shall you see the Nimphs at play, 20 

And how the Satires spend the day. 

The fishes gliding on the sands : (^IVoman, 

Offering their bellies to your hands. ▼• i* 30) 

The birds with heauenly tuned throates, {lb, iiL i. 

Possesse woods Ecchoes with sweet noates, 25 79» *• 

Which to your sences will impart, 
A musique to enflame the hart. 

Vpon the bare and leafe-lesse Cake, 

The Ring-Doues wooings will prouoke 

A colder blood then you possesse, 30 

To play with me and doo no lesse. 

In bowers of Laurell trimly dight, {fl. iii. 1 . 

We will out-weare the silent night, 

While Flora busie is to spread : 

Her richest treasure on our bed. 35 

5 Ignoto] printed on the page itself in the Br. Mus. copy 1600, and not on 
a slip pasted over the initials S. W. R., or is said to be the case in ether extant 
copies : also Ignoto ed. 1614 



I 1 

482 POEMS 

Ten thousand Glow-wormes shall attend, 
And all their sparkling lights shall spend, 
All to adome and beautifie: 
Your lodging with most maiestie. 

Then in mine armes will I enclose 5 

Lillies faire mixture with the Rose, 
Whose nice perfections in loues play : 
Shall tune me to the highest key. 

Thus as we passe the welcome night, 

In sportfull pleasures and delight, 10 

The nimble Fairies on the grounds. 

Shall daunce and sing mellodious sounds. 

If these may seme for to entice. 

Your presence to Loues Paradice, 

Then come with me, and be my Deare: 15 

And we will straite begin the yeare. 

Finis. Ignoto. 

(^Euph,Vi» 41^ (From DKv'iaon'a Poetical /^a^soify, 1602,) 

QO 11.22-3; 

No. 26 1.26; Natural/ comparisons with perfect loue 

139-3O '^^^ lowest Trees haue tops, the Ante her gall, 20 

iSaph, The flie her splene, the little sparkes their heate: 

Prol.2l.10) The slender haires cast shadowes, though but small, 

And Bees haue stings, although they be not great: 
Seas haue their sourse, & so haue shallow springs. 
And loue is loue, in Beggars, as in Kings. 25 

Where riuers smoothest run, deepe are the foords. 
The Diall stirres, yet none perceiues it mooue: 
7,2191. 1) 'pjjg firmest faith is in the fewest wordes, 

The Turtles cannot sing, and yet they loue: 

True Harts haue eyes, & eares, no tongs to speake, 30 

They heare, & see, and sigh, and then they breake. 


II grounds 1600, 1614: ground Bullen 16 straite] then Collier 17 

Igaoio printed en the page itself 1600, 1614 No. 41 ^ The two stt. rei*ersed in 

HarL MS. 6910,/. 140 v, 19 Naturall . . . loue this heading in 'Poet. Paps.* 

1608 andfollg. eds. only 20 smallest Hart. MS. 21 sparke his Pawl. MS. 
J 48, Hart. 6910 22 And heares haue Shadowes though they be but smalle 

Harl. MS. 24 litle Ilarl. MS. 25 as] and Pawl. MS. 26 riuers] waters 
Pawl. Harl. MSS. are deepest foords Harl. MS. : y**" deepest are y* floodes 

Pawl. MS. 27 can see Harl. MS. 28 is fownd in fewest Pawl. MS. : shonld bee 
in fairest Harl, MS, 29 cannot] doe not Pawl. MS, 30 tongue Hart, MS. 
32 unsigned ed, i6ri : signed Sir (w erased) Edward Dier Pawl, MS, 148,/. 50 

1 7.65 1.23) 


411 An Answere to the first Staffe, that Loue is vnlike 

in Beggers and in Kings. 

Compare the Bramble with the Cedar tree, 
The Pismyres anger with the Lyons rage: 
What is the Buzzing flie where Eagles bee? 
A drop the sparke, no seas can Aetna swage. 

Small is the heat in Beggers brests that springs, 
But flaming fire consumes the hearts of Kings. 

Who shrouds himself where slender hairs cast shade : 
But mighty Oakes may scome the Summer Sun : 
Smal cure wil seme, wher Bees the woud haue made 
But Dragons poyson through each part doth run: 
Light is the loue that Beggers bosome stings, 
Deepe is the wound that Cupid makes in Kings* 

Smal channels seme, where shallow springs d