Skip to main content

Full text of "Plays & poems. Edited with introd. and notes by J. Churton Collins"

See other formats



T O R O N T O 





VOL. Il 




1 8 c° 



FURIOSO . . Frontis2Mece 
PREFACE .... vii 
NOTES :-- 

NOTES :-- 

• 79 
• 235 



THIS play was first published in quarto by Edward White in 1594, 
and in the May of that year it was entered on the Stationers' Registers, 
thus :-- xiiii to die Maij 
A ..........  Entred for his Copie under th(e h)andes of bothe the 
IïDIVAgD IVttITE wardens a booke entituled the 
BACO2Vand.ff?yer 0 UNGA Y.E ... vj a CI -er 
It was reprinted also in quarto in I63o and in 1655 1. The text 
printed here is that of the first Quarto collated with that of the second 
and third. 
Of the time of its composition and of its first appearance there is 
no record. It would seem from an entry in Henslowe's 19iary that 
it had been performed in February, I59 ½. 
' R a at fryer baeone, the 19 of febrary, Satterdaye . . . xvij = iija. ' Collier's 
Transeript, p. 20. 
Henslowe does hOt note that it was a new play, and it probably was 
hot. In the Z)iary it heads the list of plays performed by = my lord 
Stranges tuerie.' With regard to its composition and first appearance 
we have nothing to guide us but conjecture and inference. In point 
of merit it stands withJames/Vat the head of Greene's dramas. The 
versification and style, as well as its merit from a dramatic and idyllic 
point of view, seem to warrant us in concluding that its composition 
must bave been subsequent to that of Al;bhonsus, the Zookinff Glasse, 
and Orlando t:urioso. It is as plainly the work of a comparatively 
practised hand as they are the work of a tiro in his apprenticeship. 
Ifwe assign it to the end of I59I or the beginning of 1592 we shall 
probably not be far from the mark. Nf. F. G. Fleay (sec Ward's 
Introduction, Appendix ]3) very ingeniously deduces from 1. 137, 'Lacie, 
thou knowst next friday is S. Iames,' that the play was produced 
before August I589. He observes that dramatic authors always used 
the almanac ofthe current year, and that St. James's day fell on a Friday 
in I578, I589, and 1595. Of these dates the first would be too early, 
the third too late, and thus we are limited to 1589 . ]3ut this is as 
obviously unsatisfactory as the conclusion he draws from the curtail- 
Owing presumably to an error of Malone, Dyce, Lowndes, Grosart, 
Dr. Ward, and others, have recorded an edition of 1599- But no such edition is, 
so far as I tan ascertain, in existence. Malone had two copies, now in the 
]3odleian Library, both of them the 163o reprint, one of them has lost its title- 
page) and this eopy Malone supposed to be an edition dated zfi99, and has in 
his own hand entered it as such. If he had collated it with the repriut of 
he would have seen that it was merely a eopy of that. I cannot find that 
before Malone there was any trace or tradition of an edition dated Ifi99. Baker, 
in his l?iograpMa Dramatica (ed. 178), makes no mention of sueh an edition. 
Its alleged existence seems to be due to Malone's mistaken note. 


ment of Greene's motto (Id.). Dr. Ward sees ' no reason against the 
assumption that it was written belote February 1589, very possibly in 
I588 or even in I587.' But surely there are strong reasons against 
such an assulnption. As I have already shown, there is no evidence 
at all that Greene was engaged in dramatic composition before I59 o. 
Of one thing it seems to me that there can be little doubt, that it 
stands in the same relation to Marlowe's Faustus as Alfihonsus 
stood to his T«mburlaize, not indeed in the sense of borrowing from 
it, but in the fact that it was intended to rival itl. The date of the 
first appearance of Marlowe's play is not known, but such evidence 
as we bave seems to point to some period between I588 and 
i89  ; that it preceded Greene's play must, in the absence of certain 
proof, be a matter of inference, but it is inference equivalent to moral 
certainty. Nothing of course can be deduced from the obvious 
parallel between Faust's words (Scene i. 86, Ward's ed.) :-- 
« I'll haue them wall all Germany with brass," 
and t3urden's words in Frier lacon (I1. 2OO-I) :-- 
« Thou meanst ere many yeares or daies be past, 
To compasse England with a wall of brasse,' 
repeated afterwards by the Friar (11. 343-4) :- 
'_And Hell and Heceate shall faile the Frier, 
But I will circle England round with brasse.' 
because Greene found them in the romance on which his drama was 
based (see Appendix to Introduction, p. 6), and the presumption in 
favour of Fattstus having preceded Greene's play is so overwhelmingly 
strong that we cannot suppose that Marlowe borrowed from Greene. 
In ail probability the line was one of the interpolations introduced 
into the play after Marlowe's death, and in that case was derived from 
Greene or from the romance on which Greene drew. But this need 
hOt be pressed, for, as Dr. ,Vard observes, it was a ' traditional boast 
which was probably quite familiar from the story-book of Friar Bacon.' 
In the Lookng Glasse, Greene, for the passage vas plainly vritten by 
Greene, had already borrowed from Faustus : compare the scene where 
the Usurer is presented in his despair (11. I948-53) :-- 
' Hell gapes for me, heauen will not hold my soule. 
You rnountaines, shroude me from the God of tmth: 
Mee-thinkes I sec him sit to iudge the earth; 
Sec how he blots me out of the booke of life! 
Oh burthen more than AEAna that I beare! 
Couer me hilles, and shroude me from the Lord,' 
• I entirely agree with Dr. Wagner in his remarks on this subjeet in his 
Introduction to hi edition of Marlowe's Faustus. 
e For the vhole question of the probable date of the prodnetion and 
first appearance of Marlowe's Faustus sec Dr. Ward's Introduction to his 
edition of fi'austus and ri'fiat 13acon and ri'fiat t?unffay, 4th edition, pp. 



with Faust's (Scene xiv. 83-7, VCard's ed.) :-- 
' Mountains and hills corne, corne and fall on me 
And hide me from the heauy wrath of God. 
No, no I 
Then will I headlong rn into the earth ; 
Earth gape. O no it will hot harbour me.' 
Compare again the words of the Usurer (ll. I955-8 ) :-- 
' In life no peace: each murmuring that I heare, 
Mee-thinkes the sentence of damnation soundes, 
"Die reprobate, and hie thee hence to hell." 
The euill Angell/em;Me/h him, offerizg the knife and rope. 
What fiend is this that temptes me to the death?' 
with those of Faust at whose side also is standing the Evil Angel 
(Scene vi. 20-3, Ward's ed.) :-- 
' Fearful eehoes tlunder in my ears. 
Faustus thotl art damn'd, these swords and knlues, 
Poison, guns, halters and enuenom'd steele 
Are laid belote me to despatch myself.' 
Again (Id. 11. I4-I7):-- 
' auslus. "Who buzzeth in my ears I ana a spirit. 
13e I a deuil, yet God may pity me, 
Aye God vill pity me, if I repent.' 
compared with the words of the Usurer (11. I96o-3) :-- 
' What second charge is this? 
Mee-thinks I heare a voiee amidst mine eares, 
That bids me staie, and tels me that the Lord 
Is mercifull to those that do repent.' 
But the whole position and scene where the Usurer is presented in 
his despair is so analogous to the scene in Faus/us that it can hardly be 
doubted that it xvas a reminiscence of the scene in Marlowe's tragedy x. 
There are, it must be admitted, no parallels in details and particulars 
between Errer tTacon and Faus/us beyond what can be accounted for 
from similarities in the romances from which each derived its plot, 
the Faus/buch and The Famous t-]is/orie oj Friar tacon. It is 
probable that Marlowe's play directed Greene's attention to magicians 
and magie as subjects for dramatic treatment, and inspired him with 
the idea of competing with Marlowe by treating in his own way 
a kindred theme. And his treatment of it is certainly widely different, 
as he entirely eliminates, with the exception of one incident, the tragical 
element. Greene had no doubt the tact to know where his strength 
lay, and where his rival's strength lay. And he had his reward; 
he produced a work which, as Henslove's entries show, became as 
popular in comedy as Marlowe's was in tragedy. 
1 These parallels with Dr. Faustus are hot affected by the faet that the germ of 
this passage is round in Lodge's llarum against Usurers. See note on Looking 
Glasse, vol. i. p. 9 a, 1. 9 a. 


Of equal interest is the relation of Frier lacon to Faire Em. It 
is scarcely necessary to say that the well-known passage in the address 
to the Gentlemen Students prefixed to Greene's Farewell lo Follie 1 
proves conclusively that Greene had no part in the composition of that 
play, and that to assign it to him is absurd. But the resemblance it bears 
to Friar t?acon generally, and particularly in the opening scene, is so 
striking that it would be interesting to know whether the resemblance 
is merely accidental, or whether it was the result of conscious imita- 
tion. It is difficult to think it was accidental, and the question then 
arises xvhether Faire Em preceded Frier t?acon or Frier Iacon 
Faire Em. I have already stated my reasons for thinking that 
Frier t?acon was not composed before 1590. Ail that tan be known with 
certainty about Faire Em is that it was on the stage in or before 
I59I , for in that year appeared Greene's attack on it in the Farewell 
fo Follie. Now, part of the plot of Faire Em is probably founded 
on a ballad licensed to Henry Carre, March 2, I58o-I, under the tire 
of The 3Iiller's DaugMer oflanchesler2; its style and versification 
point to an earlier period than 159 ; it was evidently composed not 
originally for the London stage, but for Lord Strange's men to act in 
Lancashire and Cheshire, where its many local allusions would alone be 
intelligible s; after being acted in the provinces it must have won its 
way to the London boards. So that in all probability when Greene refers 
to it, it must have been a play of some standing. Simpson is inclined 
to asslgn its composition to I587'. On the whole then, though it is 
not possible to speak with certainty, it is in the highest degree 
probable that Faire Em preceded Frier t?acon . If it did, it may 
bave given Greene the model for that part in Frier Bacon in which 
the Prince, Lacy, and Margaret are the principal figures, a love 
comedy perplexed with disguises and cross-affections. At the 
opening of the play, William the Conqueror and the Marquis Lubec 
stand in precisely the saine relation to each other as the Prince and 
Lacy do in Greene's play, first with regard to Blanche, and afterwards 
with regard to Mariana. Margaret sometimes reminds us of Faire Em, 
and sometimes of Mariana; the sentiments are often identical ; there 
is the saine blending of rustic and courtly life; the blank verse is 
often indistinguishable from Greene's. It would not be too much to say 
that in tone, colour, and style Faire/m stands in the saine relation 
to Frier tacon as Tamburlaine stands to Al2bhonsus. 
1 Works (Grosart). vol. ix. pp. 232- 3. 
• 2 Simpson's S«hool of Shakeseare, vol. ii. 377- 
 Id. 37- t Id. 
 Dr. Ward Introduction to Friar tacon and Friar tunffay, pp. cxlvii-viii) 
is of opinion that Faire Em was subsequent in appearance to Greene's 
• . play, 
tmd that the resernblances between them are to be referred to mtations of 
Greene. Had this been the case, is it likely that Greene would have been silent 
about what he might fairly bave described as plagiarism from his drama . 

Greene has founded his play on an old romance written probably 
towards the end of the sixteenth century, the earliest extant edition 
of which is dated I627. The title-page is as folIows :-- 
'The Famons Historie of Fryer Bacon. Containing the wonderfnll things 
that he did in his Lire : Also the manner of his Death ; With the Lines and 
Deaths of the two Coniurers, Bungye and Vanderrnast. Very pleasant and 
delightfnll to be read. Bliidschap doet, het leuen ver Langhen. Printed at 
London by G. P. for Francis Grone, and are to be sold at his shop at the vpper 
end of ShOW Hill, against the Saracens head. I627." 
This is in black-letter; the ]3ritish Museum copy is imperfect, 
and I bave therefore supplied the deficiencies from another quarto 
printed, it is supposed--for it is undated--in I63o. Dyce and 
Dr. Ward have contented themselves with extracts from the reprint 
in the second volume of Thoms's Prose lomances. I have given 
in the Appendix to this Introduction all those portions of the romance 
which bave furnished Greene with material. A comparison of the 
drama with the romance will show that Greene in the most charming 
part of his work owes nothing to the original. His indebtedness to 
the romance extends indeed no further than the part played by Bacon. 
The only hint in the romance of the love portion is in chapter xv, 
where it is said that a fait maid caIled Mellisant had two suitors, 
a knight and a gentleman, and that of the two she preferred the 
gcntleman, which may bave suggested Margaret's preference of Lacy 
to the Prince. The test belongs to Greene. There is hOt, so far 
as we know, any foundation either in fact or tradition for Edward's 
intrigue with 'the fait maid of Fressingfield' or for the visit of 
Henry III, the King of Castile, and the Emperor of Germany to 
The historical personages and the part they play will hOt of course 
bear examination for a moment and this part of the drama is full 
of the absurdest fictions and anachronisms. Henry III, indeed, paid 
several visits to Oxford (see the first book of Anthony à Wood's l-Iisto O, 
and Inti¢uities of ta Universily), but the Emperor of Germany, who 
was Frederic II, was never in England, nor, so far as is known, was 
the King of Castile, Ferdinand III. The whole accourir given of 
Prince Edward is incorrect. He married Eleanor of Castile sixteen 
years before he went on the Crusade referred to by Greene, and he 
married, hOt in England, but by proxy in Spain, nor did he ever 
distinguish himself before the walls of Damascus. I-tis relations 
with Friar Bacon are as purely fictitious as his connexion with the 
Fait Maid of Fressingfield. No scholar or magician of the name 
of Vandermast is known. Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, and Warren are 
historical personages but there is nothing which connects Lacy with 
an)" maid of Fressingfield, and Warren was hot Earl of Sussex but 
Earl of Surrey. 

CHAP. II. I63 o 
How the King sent for Frier ]Bacon, and of the wonderful things that 
he shewed the King and Queen.-- 
The King being in Oxfordshire at a Nobleman's house was very 
desirous to see this famous Frier, for he had heard many tiines of the 
wondrous things that he had done by his art. 
The King, Queen and Nobles sate then all clown: they having so 
done the Frier waving his wand, and presently was heard such ex- 
cellent Musick that they were all amazed, for they all said they had 
never heard the like ..... Then waved he his wand again, and 
there was another kind of Musick heard, and whilst it was a playing, 
there was suddenly belote them a Table richly covered with all sorts 
of delicates: Then desired he the King and Queen to taste of some 
certain rare fruits that were on the Table, which they and the Nobles 
there presently did, and were very highly pleased with the taste. 
How F'ryer ]Bacon ruade a ]Brasen head fo speake, by the which hee 
would have walled England about with 13rasse.-- 
F'ryer ]Bacon reading one day of the many Conquests of Fng]and, 
bethought himself how hee might keepe if hereafter from the like 
Conquests, and fo make himse]fe famous hereafter fo all posterities: 
This (after great study) hee round cou]d be no way so well donc as 
one ; which was to make a head of ]Brasse, and if he could make this 
head fo speake (and heare if when if speakes) then might hee be able 
to wa]l al] England about with ]Brasse. To this purpose he got one 
F'ryer ]Bungey fo assist him, who was a great Schollar and a magician, 
(but hot fo bee compared with Frier ]Bacon) : These two with great study 
and paines so framed a head of [Brasse, that in the inward parts 
thereof there was all things (like as is in a natura]] mans head) : this 
being done, they were as farre from perfection of the worke as they 
were before, for they knew hOt how to give those parts that they had 
ruade motion, without which if was impossible that it shou]d speake : 
Many bookes they read, yet cou]d not finde out any hope of what 
they sought, so that ai the ]ast they conc]uded fo raise a spirit, and 
to know of him that which they cou]d hot attaine fo by their owne 
studies. To do this they prepared ail things ready and went one even- 
ing fo a wood thereby, and after many ceremonies used, they spake the 
words of conjuration, which the IDevill straight obeyed and appeared 
unto them, asking what they wou]d ? Know, said Frier ]Bacon, that wee 
have ruade an artifi¢ial] head of brasse, which wee would have to speake, 
fo the furtherance ofwhich vee have raised thee ; and being raised, wee 
vil] here keepe thee, unlesse thou te]l fo us the way and manner how 

to make this Head to speak. The Devill told him that he had hOt that 
power of hi,nselfe : beginner of lyes (said Fryer Bacon) I know that thou 
dost dissemble, and therefore tell it us quickly, or else wee will here 
bind thee to remaine during our pleasures. At these threatnings the 
Devill consented to doe it, and told them, that with a continuall fume 
of the six hotest Simples it should bave motion, and in one month space 
speake, the Time of the moneth or day hee knew not : also hee told them, 
that if they heard it hOt before it had done speaking, all their labour 
should be lost : they, being satisfied, licensed the Spirit for to depart.-- 
Then went these two learned Fryers home againe, and prepared the 
Simples ready, and ruade the fume, and with continuall watching 
attended when this Brasen head would speake : thus watched they for 
three weekes without any rest, so that they were so weary and sleepy, 
that they could not any longer retaine froln rest: then called Fryer 
Bacon his man lVliles, and told him, that it was not unknowne to him 
what paines Fryer 13ungy and himselfe had taken for three weekes 
space, onely to make, and to heare the Brasen-head speake, which if 
they did not, then had they lost ail their labour, and all England had a 
great losse thereby : therefore hee intreated bliles that he would watch 
whilest that they sleep,and call them ifthe Head speake. Feare not, good 
Master (said blailes) I will not sleepe, but harken and attend upon the 
head, and if it doe chance to speake, I will call you : therefore I pray 
take you both your rests and let mee alone for watching this head. 
After Fryer 13acon had given him a great charge : The second time, 
Fryer 13ungy and he went to sleepe, and left Miles alone to watch the 
]3rasen head: Miles, to keepe him from sleeping, got a Tabor and 
Pipe, and being merry disposed, sung this Song to a Northren tune, 
Of Cam'st thou hOt from New-Castle 
To couple is a custome, 
AI1 things thereto agree: 
Why should hot I then love . 
Since love to all is free. 
But l'll bave one that's pretty, 
Her cheekes of scarlet die ? 
For to breed my delight, 
When that I ligge her by. 
Though vertue be a Dowry, 
Yet I'll ehuse money store: 
If my love prove untrue, 
With that I can get more. 
The faire is oft unconstant, 
The blacke is often proud. 
I'll chuse a lovely browne, 
Corne fiddler scrape thy crowd. 


Corne fidler scrape thy crowd, 
For Peggie the browne is she, 
Must be my Bride, God guide 
That Peggie and I agree. 
With his owne Musicke, and such songs as these spent he his time, 
and kept from sleeping, at last, after some noyse the Head spake these 
two words, Time is. Miles hearing it to speake rm more, thought his 
Master would be angry if hee waked him for that, and therefore hee let 
them both sleepe, and began to mocke the Head in this manner : Thou 
Brazer-faced Head, bath my Master tooke ail this paines about thee, 
and now dost thou requite him with two vords, Time is: had he 
watched with a Lawyer so long as he bath watched with thee, he would 
bave given him more, and better words then thou hast yet, if thou can 
sFeake no wiser, they shall sleepe till doomes day for me: Time is: 
I know Time is, and that you shall heare good-man Brazen-face. 
To the tune of Daintie corne thou to me. 
Time is for some to plant, 
Time is for some to sowe; 
Time is for some to graft 
The borne as some do know. 

Time is for some to eate, 
Time is for some to sleepe, 
Time is for some to laugh, 
Time is for some to weepe. 
Time is for some to sing, 
Time is for some to pray, 
Time is for some to creepe, 
That bave drunke ail the day. 
Time is to cart a Bawd, 
Time is to whip a \Vhore, 

Time is to hang a Theefe, 
And time is for much more. 
Doe you tell us Copper-nose, when Time is, I hope we Schollers know 
our Times, when to drinke drunke, when to kisse our Hostis, when to 
goe on her score, and when to pay it, that time comes seldome. After 
halle an hour had passed, the Head did speake againe, two words, which 
were these: Time was. Mlles respected these words as little as he 
did the former, and would hot wake them, but still scoffed at the 
Brasen head, that it had learned no better words, and had such 
a Tutor as his Master : and in scorne of it sung this Song. 
To the tune of A rich Merchant Man. 
Time was when thou a Kettle 
Wert fill'd with better matter: 
But Fryer Bacon did thee spoyle, 
When he thy sides did batter. 


Time was when conscience dwelled 
With men of occupation : 
Time was when Lawyers did hot thrive 
So well by mens vexation. 
Time was when Kings and Beggars 
Of one poore stuffe had being: 
Time was when office kept no knaves: 
That rime it was worth seeing. 
Time was a bowle of water 
Did give the face reflection, 
Time was when women lnew no paint: 
Which now they call complexion. 
Time was: I know that I3razen-face, without your telling, I know 
Time was, and I know what things there was when Time was, and if 
you speake no wiser, no Master shall be waked for mee. Thus Mlles 
talked and sung till another halle houre was gone, then the t3razen- 
head spake againe these words; Time is past: and therewith fell 
downe, and presently followed a terrible noyse, with strange flashes of 
tire, so that Miles was halle dead with feare : at this noyse the two 
Fryers awakened, and wondred to see the whole roome so full of 
smoake, but that having vanished they might perceive the Brazen-head 
broken and lying on the ground : at this sight they grieved, and called 
Miles to know how this came. Mi]es halle dead with feaxe, said that 
it fell downe of it selle, and that with the noyse and tire that followed 
hee was almost frighted out of his wits: Fryer Bacon asked him if 
hee did hot speake ? Yes (quoth Miles) it spake, but to no purpose. 
I'll bave a Parret speake better in that time that you have beene teach- 
ing this Brazen-head. Out on thee villaine (said Fryer I3acon) thou 
hast undone us both, hadst thou but called us when it did speake, all 
England had bin wa]led round about with Brasse, to its glory and out 
eternall lames : what were the words it spake ? Very few (said Mlles) 
and those were none of the wisest that I have heard neither : first he 
said Time is. Hadst thou call'd us then (said Fryer ]3acon) wee had 
beene ruade for ever : then (said Mlles) halle an boute after it spake 
againe and said, Time was. And wouldst thou hot call us then (said 
Bungy ?) Alas (said Mlles) I thought he would have told me some long 
Tale, and then I purposed to bave called you : then halle an houre 
after he cried Time is past, and made such a noyse, that hee hath 
waked you himselfe mee thinkes. At this Fryer Bacon was in such 
a rage, that hee vould have beaten his man, but he was restrained by 
]3ungey: but nevertheles for his punishment he with his Art struck 
him dumbe for one whole months space. Thus that great worke of 
these learned Fryers was overthrown (to their great griefes) by this 
simple fellow. 


CItAP. Vil 
How Fryer Bacon over-came the German Conjurer Vandermast, and 
make a spirit of his owne carry him into Germany. 
The King of England after hee had taken in the towne, shewed great 
mercy to the Inhabitants, giving some of them their lives freely, and 
others hee set at libertie for their Gold: the Towne hee kept as his 
owne, and swore the Chiefe Citizens to be his true subjects. Presently 
after the King of France sent an Ambassadour to the King of England, 
for to intreat a peace betweene them. This Ambassadour being come 
to the King he feasted him (as it is the manner of Princes to doe) and 
with the best sports as he had then, welcomed him. The Ambassadour 
seeing the King of England so free in his Love, desired likewise to 
give him some taste of his good liking, and to that intent sent for one 
of his fellowes (being a Germane, and named Vandermast) a famous 
Conjurer, who being come, hee told the King, that since his Grace had 
beene so bountifull in his love to him, he would shew him (by a servant 
of his) such wonderfull things, that his Grace had never seene the 
like before. The King demaunded of him, of what nature those things 
were that hee would doe ? The Ambassadour answered, that they were 
things done by the Art of Magicke. The King hearing of this, sent 
straight for Fryer Bacon, who presently came and brought Fryer 
Bungey with him. 
When the Banquet was done, Vandermast did aske the King, if hee 
desired to see any Spirit of any man deceased; and if that he did, 
hee vould raise him in such manner and fashion as he was in when 
that hee lived. 
Fryer Bungey then began to shew his Art ; and after some turning 
and looking on his Booke, he brought up among them the Hysperian 
Tree, which did beare golden Apples; these Apples were kept by 
a waking Dragon, that lay under the Tree : Hee having done this bid 
Vandermast finde one that durst gather the fruit. Then Vandermast did 
raise the ghost of Hercules in his habit that he wore when that he was 
living, and with his club on his shoulder ; Here is one said Vander- 
toast, that shall gather fruit from this Tree : this is Hercules, that in 
his lire time gathered of this fruit, and made the Dragon couch : and 
now againe shall hee gather it in spight of all opposition : As Hercules 
was going to plucke the fruit, Fryer Bacon held up his wand, at which 
Hercules stayed and seemed fearefull. Vandermast bid him for to 
gather of the fruit, or else hee would torment him. Hercules was 
more fearefull, and said, I cannot, nor I date not; for here great 
Bacon stands, whose charmes are farre more powerful than thine, I 
must obey him, Vandermast. Hereat Vandenrast curst Hercules, 
and threatned him : But Fryer Bacon laughed, and bid him not to 


chafe himselfe ere that his journey vas ended ; for seeing (said he) 
that Hercules will doe nothing at your command, I will have him doe 
you some service at mine: with that hee bid Hercules carry him 
home into Germany. The Devill obeyed him, and tooke Vandermast 
on his backe, and went away with him in all their sights. Hold Fryer, 
cried the Embassadour, I will hot loose Vandermast for half my land. 
Content your selfe my Lord, answered Fryer Bacon, I have but sent 
him home to see his wife, and ere long he may returne. The King of 
England thanked Fryer Bacon, and forced some gifts on him for his 
service that hee had done for him ; for Fryer Bacon did so little respect 
money, that he never would take any of the King. 

CHAP. XV. 163o 
(Ed. 1627 has not the later chapters.) 
How Fryer Bacon did help a young man to his sweetheart, vhich 
Fryer Bungey would have married to another; and of the mirth 
that was at the wedding. 
An Oxford-shire Gentleman had long time loved a falr Maid, called 
Millisant ; this love of his was as kindly received of her, as it was freely 
given of him, so that there wanted nothing to the finishing of their 
joys, but the consent of her father, who would hOt grant that she 
should be his wife (though formerly he had been a means to further 
the match) by leason there was a Knight that was a suitor to her, and 
did desire that he might have her to his wife : but this Knight could 
never get from her the least token of good will : so surely was her love 
fixed upon the Gentleman. 
Fryer Bacon (knowing him for a vertuous gentleman) pityed him : 
and to give his griefs some release, shewed him a glass, wherein any 
one might see anything done (within fifty toiles space) that they de- 
sired : So soon as he had looked in the glass, he saw his Love Millisant 
with her Father, and the Knight, ready to be married by Fryer I3ungey : 
At the sight of this he cryed out that he was undone, for now should he 
lose his lire in losing of his Love. Fryer Bacon bids him take comfort 
for he would prevent the marriage. 

How two young gentlemen that came to Fryer ]3acon to know hov 
their Fathers did, killed one another, and how Fryer Bacon for grief 
did break his rare glass, wherein he could see anything that was 
done vithin fifty mlles about him. 
(After introductory paragraph describing the wonderful glass.) 
It happened one day that there came to him two young Gentlemen, 
(that were Countrymen, and Neighbours Children) for to know of him 

by his Glass, how their Fathers did : he being no niggard of his cunning, 
let them see his glass, wherein they streight beheld thelr wishes, which 
they (through their own follies) bought at their lires losses as you shall 
The Fathers of these two Gentlemen, (in their sons absence) were 
become great foes ; this hatred between them was grown to that height, 
that wheresoever they met, they had not only words but blows. 
Just at that rime, as it should seem, that their sons were looking to 
see how they were in health, they were met and had drawn, and were 
together by the ears. 
Their Sons seeing this, (and having been always great friends) knew 
not what to say to one another, but beheld each other with angry 
looks : At last one of their Fathers, as they might perceive in the Glass, 
had a fall ; and the other taking advantage, stood over him ready to 
strike him : The Son of him that was down, could then contain himself 
no longer, but told the other young man, that his Father had received 
wrong. He answered again, that it was fair. At last there grew such 
foul words between them, and their bloods were so heated, that they 
presently stabb'd one another with their daggers, and so fell down dead. 
Fryer Bacon seeing them rail, ran to them, but it was too late; for 
they were breathless ere he came. This ruade him to grieve exceed- 
ingly : he judging that they had received the cause of their deaths by 
this his Glass, took the Glass in his hand, and uttered words to this effect. 
Wretched Bacon, wretched in thy knowledge, in thy understanding 
wretched, for thy Art hath been the ruine of these two Gentlemen. 
Had I been busied in those holy things, the which mine Order tyes me 
to, I had not had that rime that made this wicked Glass: Wicked I 
well may call it, that is the causer of so vile an Act ; would it were 
sensible, then should it feel my wrath, but being as it is, l'll ruine it 
for ruining of them: And with that he broke his rare and wonderful 
glass, whose like the whole World had not. In this grief of his, there 
came news to him, of the deaths of Vandermast and Fryer Bungey 
This did increase his grief, and ruade him so sorrowful, that in three 
days he would not eat anything, but kept his Chamber. 


How Fryar Bacon burnt his Books of Magick, and gave himself to the 
study of Divinity only, and how he turned Anchorite. 

In the time that Frier Bacon kept his chamber, he fell into divers 
meditations : Sometimes into the vanity of Arts and Sciences : then 
would he condemn himself for studying of those things that were so 
Contrary to his Order, and soul's health, and would say» that Magick 
ruade a man a Devil; Sometimes would he meditate on Divinity ; 


then would he cry out upon himself for neglecting the study of it, and 
for studying Magick : Sometirnes would he rneditate on the shortness 
of rnan's life, then would he condernn himself for spending a rime so 
short, so ill as he had donc his : So would he go from one thing to an- 
other, and in ail condernn his former studies. 
And that the world should know how truly he did repent his wicked 
lire, he caused a great tire tobe ruade, and sending for many of his 
Friends, Scholars, and others, he spake to them after this manner : My 
good Friends and fellow Students, it is hot unknown unto you, how that 
through mine Art I have attained to that credit, that few rnen living 
ever had : Of the wonders that I have donc all England tan speak, 
both King and Commons: I bave unlocked the secrets of Art and 
Nature, and let the world sec those things, that bave lain hid ever 
since the death of Hermes, that rare and profound Philosopher : My 
studies have round out the secrets of the Stars, the Books that I have 
ruade of them do serve for presidents to out greatest Doctors, so 
excellent hath my judgrnent been therein. 
I likewise have round out the secrets of Trees, Plants, and Stones, 
with their several uses; yet ail this knowledge of mine I esteem so 
lightly, that I wish that I were ignorant, and knew nothing; for the 
knowledge of these things, as I bave truly ound, serveth hot to better 
a man in goodness, but only to make him proud, and think too well of 
hirnself. What hath all rny knowledge of Natures Secrets gained me ? 
Only this, the loss of a better knowledge, the loss of divine Studies, 
which rnakes the immortal part of man, (his soul) blessed. 
I bave found that my Knowledge bath been a heavy burthen, and 
bath kept down rny good thoughts : but I will remove the Cause, which 
are these books; which I do purpose here belote you all to burn. 
They all intreated him to spare the Books, because in them there were 
those things that after ages rnight receive great benefit by. He vould 
hot hearken unto them, but threw thern ail into the tire, and in that 
flame burnt the greatest learning in the world. 
Then did he dispose of all his goods, some part he gave to poor 
Scholars, and sorne he gave to other (poor folks), nothing left he for 
himself. Then caused he to be (rnade) in the Church-wa]l a cell, 
where he locked himself in, and there remained to his death. His 
rime he spent in Prayer, Meditation, and such divine exercises, and did 
seek by all rneans to persuade rnen frorn the study of Magick. 
Thus lived he some two years space in that Cell, never coming forth ; 
his rneat and drink he received in at a window, and at that window he 
did discourse with those that came to him ; his grave he digged with his 
own halls, and was laid there when... Lire and Death of this farnous 
Fx3,er... part of his lire a Magician, and died a truc penitent Sinner, 
and an Anchorite. 

_. THE 

F R IEII Ë/G 0  'A AND o r. 

As itwas lately plaid byth© Prince t'alatrne his Setuants. 
Made bi' Robin Greene, Marier of ttrts. 

Printed by Erxzas- A,t.D dwel[in 
neer¢ ChnR-Çhurch. 63o. 

offfier Ba¢on,and ffier Bongay. 

As it wa plaid by her Maiefiies feruants. 
" Made by Robert Treene Mailler o! Arts. 

for Edward Wh¢ » ad a« m b fol a bs [hop, a 
h¢ |kd¢ Norh dooe of Poul«s, th¢ Ngnc o[ 
th¢ Gm t  94, 


PRINCE EDWARD, ]lis son. 
LACY, arl of incoln. 
WARREN, arl OE Sussex. 
ERMSY, a Gedleman. 
RALPH SIMNELL, lhe izg's ooL 
MILES, ffr/ar acon's oor scholar. 
NSO, odors of Oxford. 
SERLSBY, } Gentlemen. 
wo scholars, lleir solos. 
RXCHAR, } Clowns. 
Zords, Clos, 
Eo, daugMer to te King  Castile. 
Jo, a country we. 
ostess of ¢e ell at 
' AdaCtedfi-om Dyce--hot in origiual. 


(SCENE I. At Framlingham.) 
Enter, Edward the flrst, malcontented witlz Lacy earle of Lincolne 
Iohn Warren earIe of Sussex, and Ermsbie gentleman: Raph 
Simnell Ihe A'itgs foole. 
Lacie. Why lookes my lord like to a troubled skie, 
When heauens bright shine is shadowed with a fogge? 
Alate we ran the deere, and through the Lawndes 
Stript with our nagges the loftie frolicke bucks, 
That scudded fore the teisers like the wind: 
Nere was the Deere of merry 
So lustily puld down by iolly mates, 
Nor sharde the Farmers such fat venison, 
So franckly dealt, this hundred yeares before: 
Nor haue I seene my lord more frolicke in the chace, io 
And now changde to a melancholie dumpe. 
lVarren. After the Prince got to the keepers lodge, 
And had been iocand in the house a while, 
Tossing of ale and milke in countrie cannes ; 
Whether it was the countries sweete content, 
Or els the bonny damsell fild vs drinke, 
That seemd so stately in her stammell red, 
Or that a quahne did crosse his stomacke then, 
But straight he fell into his passions. 
Ermsbie. Sirra _ahe, what say you to your maister? 
Shall he thus all anaort liue malecontent? 
Ra_phe. Heerest thou, _/Ved? nay looke if hee will speake 
to me. 
or Quarlos see [lrodtction, ib. I. 
13 iucond Qz 3 14 of] off ]).lee, liard 


dward. Wbat sayst tbou to me, foole? 
2«_e. I pree thee tell me, _êd, art thou in loue with the 
keepers daughter ?. 
dvard. How if I be, what then ? 
a2]ze. Why then, sirha, Ile teach thee how to deceiue 
dzvard. How, ta2he ? 3 o 
a2he. Marrie, Sirha 2X,d, thou sbalt put on my cap and 
my coat, and my dagger, and I will put on thy clothes, 
and thy sword, and so thou shalt be my foole. 
dward. And what of this ? 
_a2he. Wby, so thou shalt beguile Loue, for Loue is such a 35 
proud scab, that he will neuer meddle with fooles nor chil- 
dren. Is not Raphes counsell good, _Néd? 
Edward. Tell me, _]Ved Zade, didst thou marke the mayd, 
How liuely in ber country weedes she lookt? 
A bonier wench all Suffole cannot yeeld, 40 
All Suffole, nay all ngland, holds none such. 
Ra2he. Sirha lVill Ermsby, 2Ved is deceiued. 
rmsMe. Why, a2he ? 
Ra2Me. He saies all £ngland hath no such, and I say, and 
Ile stand toit, there is one better in IVarwicsMre. 45 
lYarren. How proouest thou that, 
]?a2he. Why, is not the .433ot a learned man, and bath 
red many bookes? and thinkest thou he bath not more 
learning than thou to choose a bonny wench? yes, I 
warrant thee, by his whole grammer. 50 
Ermsy. A good reason, Ra2e. 
dward. I tell the, Zade, that ber sparkling eyes 
Doe lighten forth sweet Loues alluring tire: 
And in ber tresses she doth fold the lookes 
Of such as gaze vpon her golden haire: 
I-Ier bashfull white mixt with the mornings red 
Zuna doth boast vpon her louely cheekes: 
Her front is beauties table where she paints 
The glories of her gorgious excellence: 
I-Ier teeth are shelues of pretious Margarites, 60 

25 prethee Q3 
47 hOt oto. Q2 3 
55 such a gaize (23 

89 liuely] lovely .Dyce, IVard 45 one] hOt Q3 
hath he read Q 4 warrant I thee Q 3 
58 where] when 3 



Richly enclosed with ruddie curroll cleues. 
Tush, Zacie, she is beauties ouermatch, 
If thou suruaist her curious imagerie. 
Zacie. I grant, my lord, the damsell is as faire 
As simple Suffolks homely towns can yeeld: 6.5 
But in the Court be quainter dames than she, 
Whose faces are enricht with honours taint, 
Whose bewties stand vpon the stage of faine, 
And vaunt their trophies in the courts of loue. 
dward. Ah, 2Ved, but hadst thou watcht ber as my self, 70 
And seene the secret bewties of the maid, 
Their courtly coinesse were but foolery. 
Ermsbie. Why, how watcht you ber, my lord ? 
Edward. When as she swept like Venus through the house, 
And in her shape fast foulded vp my thoughtes: 7.5 
Into the Milkhouse went I with the maid, 
And there amongst the cream-boles she did shine, 
As _Pallace mongst ber Princely huswiferie : 
She turnd ber smocke ouer ber Lilly armes, 
And diued them into milke to run her cheese: 8o 
But, whiter than the rnilke, her christall skin, 
Checked with lines of Azur, ruade her blush, 
That art or nature durst bring for compare. 
.Ermsbie, if thou hadst seene as I did note it well, 
How bewtie plaid the huswife, how this girle s5 
Like Zucrece laid her fingers to the worke, 
Thou wouldest with iTarqubte hazard Woome and all 
To win the louely mayd of x'resingdfe[d. 
Rahe. Sirha .lVed, wouldst faine haue her ? 
dward. I, _ahe. 9 ° 
Raphe. Why, 2Ved, I haue laid the plot in my head; thou 
shalt haue her alreadie. 
Edward. Ile giue thee a new coat and learne me that. 
_aphe. Why, sirra .Néd, weel ride to Oford to Frier acon; 
oh, he is a braue scholler, sirra, they say he is a braue 9.5 
Nigromancer, that he can lnake women of deuils, and 
hee can iuggle cats into Costermongers. 
Edward. And how then, _a_phe? 

69 Court of Loue Qa 3 

63 surpast Q3 66 than] then Q2 3 
78 .Pallas Qz 3 



Ra2khe. Marry, sirha, thou shalt go to him, and because 
thy father Iarry shall hot misse thee, hee shall turne me 
into thee; and Ile to the Court, and Ile prince it out, 
and he shall make thee either a silken purse, full of gold, 
or else a fine wrought smocke.-- 
ldward. But how shall I haue the mayd ? 
_a2he. Mari'y, sirha, if thou beest a silken purse full of 
gold, then on sundaies sheele hang thee by her side, and 
you must not say a word. Now, sir, when she cornes into 
a great prease of people, for feare of the cut-purse on 
a sodaine sheele swap thee into her plackerd ; then, sirha, 
being there you may plead for your selle. 
Ermsbie. Excellent pollicie ! 
Edward. But how if I be a wrought smocke? 
Ra2Nze. Then sheele put thee into her chest and lay thee 
into Lauender, and vpon some good day sheele put thee 
on, and at night when you go to bed, then being turnd 
from a smocke to a man, you may make vp the match. 
Zacie. Wonderfully wisely counselled, ta2ktze! 
.ldward. a2he shall haue a new coate. 
taphe. Goal thanke you when I haue it on my backe, Ned. 
Edward. Zacie, the foole hath laid a perfect plot; 
For why our countrie _J(argret is so coy, 
And standes so much vpon her honest pointes, 
That marriage or no market with the mayd: 
rmsbie, it must be nigromaticke spels 
And charmes of art that must inchaine her loue, 
Or else shall tdward neuer win the gifle. 
Therefore, my wags, weele horse vs in the morne, 
And post to Oxford to this iolly Frier: 
t?acon shall by his magicke doe this deed. 
Warren. Content, my lord, and thats a speedy way 
To weane these head-strong puppies from the teat. 
Edward. I ara vnknowne, not taken for the Prince; 
They onely deeme vs frolicke Courtiers, 
That reuell thus among our lieges gaine: 
Therefore I haue deuised a pollicie. 
Zacie, thou knowst next friday is S. Iames, 

100 Ien o, Q3 
110 sudden Q2 3 

101 into thee] to th«e Q 3 109 presse 
placked Q$ 125 nigromantick Q$ 


And then the country flockes to ttarlston faire; 
Then will the Keepers daughter frolicke there, 
And ouer-shine the troupe of all the maids, 
That corne to sec and to be seene that day. 
Haunt thee disguisd among the countrie swaines; 
Fain thart a farmers sonne, not far from thence; 
Espie ber loues, and who she liketh best :-- 
Coat him, and court her to controll the clowne 
Say that the Courtier tyred ail in greene, 
That helpt her handsomly to run her cheese, 
And fild her fathers lodge with venison, 
Commends him, and sends fairings to herselfe. 
13uy something worthie of ber parentage, 5o 
Not worth ber beautie ; for, Zacie, then the faire 
Affoords no Iewell fitting for the mayd: 
And when thou talkest of me, note if she blush; 
Oh then she loues; but if her cheekes waxe pale, 
Disdaine it is. Zade, send how she fares, • 
And spare no time nor cost to win her loues. 
Zacie. I will, my lord, so execute this charge, 
As if that Zacie were in loue with her. 
Edward. Send letters speedily to Oxford of the newes. 
_Sae. And, sirha Zacie, buy me a thousand thousand 
million of fine bels. 
Zacie. What wilt thou doe with them, Rape? 
?ahe. Mary, euery time that V«d sighs for the Keepers 
daughter, Ile tic a bell about him : and so within three or 
foure daies I will send word to his father ]-farry, that his 
sonne and my maister 2Ved is become Loues morris dance. 
sEdze,ard. Well, Zacie, looke with care vnto thy charge, 
And I will hast to Ovx2ford to the Frier, 
That he by art, and thou by secret gifts, 
Maist make me lord of merrie ffresingfleld. 
Za«ie. God send your honour your harts desire. 

138 Hurlston Q3 16 so that in Q3 165 Henry (23 
dance(r) Z)yce, l'ard 

166 morris- 


(SCENE II. _'riar lacon's Cell al O.tford.) 
Enter fl'ier Bacon, e«ilk Miles his fioo,'e Scholer wilk bookes vneter 
his arme, with them Burden, Mason, Clement, ltzree doclors. 
acon. Miles where are you ? 
3[iles.  sure, doslissittte  rezeerotdissime doclor. 
acon. Attztlisli *nosf libros meos de Necromanlia 
elIiIes. cce fuam bomtm  fuam 
acon. Now Maisters of our Academicke State, 
That rule in Oford Vizroies in your place, 
Whose heads containe Maps of the liberall arts, 
Spending your time in deapth of learned skill, 
Why flocke you thus to acons secret Cell, 
A Frier newly stalde in razennose? 
Say whats your mind, that I may make replie. 
urden. acou, we hear, that long we haue suspect, 
That thou art read in Magicks mysterie; 
In Piromancie to diuine by flames; 
To tell by Hadromaticke ebbes and tides; 
By Aeromancie to discouer doubts, 
To plaine our questions, as Apollo did. 
acon. Well, maister urden, what of ail this? 9o 
2Iiles. Marie, sir, he doth but fulfill by rehearsing of these 
names the Fable of the Fox and the grapes; that which 
is aboue vs pertains nothing to vs. 
urden. I tell thee, acon, Oaford makes report, 
Nay, tgland and the court of ozrie saies 
Thart making of a brazen head by art, 
Which shall vnfold strange doubts and Aphorismes, 
And read a lecture in Philosophie, 
And by the helpe of Diuels and ghasly fiends, 
Thou meanst ere many yeares or daies be past, 
To compasse »glazd with a wall of brasse. 
acon. And what of this ? 

173 doctissime 1)yce, II'ard 174 nos] tostvs lVard aflo" I:leay 
175 jucundum, habitare Qe 3 178 Vice roies Q 3 18'2. 13razednose Q3 
186 Piromancy Q2 3 187 hydromatic l?j,ce: hydromancy IVard 
188 Aeromancy Q2 : Erornancy Q3 189 our] out Q3, Z?j, ce, IVard 

ll,'les. What of this, Maister? why he doth speak mys- 
tically, for he knowes if your skill faile to make a brazen 
head, yet mother waters strong ale will fit his turne to 205 
make him haue a copper nose. 
C/ement. t?acon, we corne not grceuing at thy skill, 
But ioying that out Academie yeelds 
A man supposde the woonder of the world: 
For if thy cunning worke these myracles, 2o 
ngland and Lurope shall admire thy faine, 
And Oaford shall in characters of brasse, 
And statues such as were built vp in 
Eternize Frier t?acon for his art. 
3hson. Then, gentle Frier, tell vs thy intent. 
]]acon. Seeing you corne as friends vnto the frier, 
Resolue you doctors, acon can by bookes 
Make storming toreas thunder from lais caue, 
And dimme faire ftta to a darke Eclipse. 
The great arch-ruler, potentate of hell, 
Trembles, when ?acon bids him, or his ficnds, 
13ow to the force of his Pentageron. 
What art can worke, the frolicke frier knowes, 
And therefore will I turne my Magicke bookes, 
And straine out Nigromancie to the deepe. 
I haue contrivd and fralnde a head of brasse 
(I made l?elcephon hammer out the stuffe), 
And that by art shall read Philosophie: 
And I will strengthen .E»gland by my skill, 
That if ten Cacsars livd and raignd in /ç'ome, 230 
With all the legions uro_pe doth containe, 
They should not touch a grasse of lis/z ground: 
The worke that -Arbres reard at t?alrlon, 
The brazen walles framde by Semiramis, 
Carued out like to the portall of the sunne, 235 
Shall not be such as rings the »glish strond 
From l)ouer to the market place of Nie. 
tho-den. Is this oossible? 
«Hles. Ile bring ye two or three witnesses. 
urde«. What be those ? -4o 
208 ioyeng QI 227 lelcepo Q3 stafl-e Q3 234 S«miramais 
235 protall Q3 037/ï')'e Q2 3 239 two] to Q 


_/l[iles. iXlarry, Sir, three or route as honest diuels, and good 
companions as any be in hell. 
_/lZason. No doubt but magicke may doe much in this; 
For he that reades but Mathematicke rules 
Shall finde conclusions that auaile to worke 245 
Wonders that passe the common sense of men. 
.Burden. But .Baco, roues a bow beyond his reach, 
And tels of more than magicke can performe, 
Thinking to get a faine by fooleries. 
Haue I not past as farre in state of schooles, 250 
And red of many secrets? yet to thinke 
That heads of Brasse tan vtter any volte, 
Or more, to tell of deepe philosophie, 
This is a fable Aes@ had forgot. 
.Baco..Btrde, thou wrongst me in detracting thus ; 255 
t?aco» loues not to stuffe him selfe with lies: 
But tell me fore these Doctors, if thou date, 
Of certaine questions I shall moue to thee. 
.Burdoz. I will, aske what thou can. 
_Il[lies. Marrie, Sir, heele straight be on your pickpacke to 6o 
knowe whether the feminine or the masculin gender be 
most worthie. 
.Bacoz. Were you not yesterday, maister .Burden, at ZZenly 
vpon the Thembs ? 
t3urdem I was, what then ? 265 
]?aco«. What booke studied you there on all night ? 
£'urd«m I? none at all; I red hot there a line. 
_Racole. Then doctors, Frier .Bacos art knowes nought. 
Clemet. What say you to this, maister t?urde», doth hec 
not touch you ? 
.Burden. I passe not of his friuolous speeches. 
.Ailles. Nay, maister .Burde«, my maister, ere hec hath donc 
with you, will turne you from a doctor to a dunce, and 
shake you so small, that he will leaue no more learning in 
you than is iii ]?alaams Asse. 
.Bacon. Maisters, for that learned .Burde»s skill is deepe, 

241 of the honest Deuils Q3 246 sence Q2 3 250 fare Q3 
251 read Q2 3 andpassim 254 Aesope Q2 : Esop Q3 263 Henley Q3 
264 vpon Themes Q2 : vpon Theames Q3 °-66 thereon l)yce, IVard 
275 Balams Qa 3 

And sore he doubts of 27aco¢s Ca[alisme, 
Ile shew you why he haunts to Henly off: 
Not, doctors, for to tast the fragrant aire: 
But there to spend the lfight in Alcmnie, 280 
To multiplie with secret spels of art; 
Thus priuat steales he learning froln vs all. 
"Fo prooue my sayings truc, Ile shew you straight, 
The booke he keepes at .[-ZenO, for hiln selle. 
Ailles. Nay, now my maister goes to conjuration, take heede. 2s5 
]3acot. Maisters, stand still, feare not, Ile shewe you but 
his booke. 
tteere he coniures. 
_Per otaries deos ifernales Telcehon. 
lïnter a woman ;,ilh a shoulder of mullon on a @it and a Deuill. 
3Iiles. Oh, maister, cease your coniuration, or you spoile 
all; for heeres a shee diuell colne with a shoulder of29e 
mutton on a spit: you haue mard the diuels supper, but 
no doubt hee thinkes our Colledge fare is slender, and 
so hath sent you his cooke with a shoulder of mutton, 
to make it exceed. 
Itostesse. Oh where ana I, or whats becolne of me? 
Tacot. What art thou ? 
l]oslesse. Hostesse at çlenl),, lnistresse of the ]3ell. 
tacon. How camest thou heere ? 
l]ostesse. As I was in the kitchen lnongst the maydes, 
Spitting the meate against sui»per for my guesse, 
A motion mooued me to looke forth of dore: 
No sooner had I pried into the yard, 
But straight a whirlewind hoisted me froln thence, 
And mounted me aloft wato the cloudes. 
As in a trance I thought nor feared nought, 
Nor know I where or whether I was tane: 305 
Nor where I ana, nor wllat these persons be. 
lacon. No ? know you hot maister lurdet ? 
l]ostesse. Oh yes, good Sir, he is my daily guest. 
What, maistcr Burdet! twas but yesternight, 
That you and I at Icaly plaid at cardes. 

280 Alcumy Qz 3 
292 faire Q3 
305 whither Qz 

°.83 saying Q2 3 
0_99 'gainst Z)),ce ll'ad 

290 heeres] her's Qz 3 
30'2. wirlewind Q3 


urclen. I knowe not what we did. A poxe of ail coniuring 
Clemenl. Now, iolly Frier, tell vs, is this the booke that 
urclen is so carefull to looke on ? 
l?acon. It is: but, 
Thinkest thou that ]3«co,s Nicromanticke skill 
Cannot performe lais head and wall of Brasse, 
When he can fetch thine hostesse in such post ? 
Ailles. Ile warrant you, maister, if maister urclen could 
conjure as well as you, hee would haue his booke eurie 320 
night from I-fo19' to study on at Oafrd. 
A[ason. urden, what ! are you mated by this frolicke Frier ? 
Looke how he droops, lais guiltie conscience 
Driues him to bash and makes his hostesse blush. 
t?«con. Well, mistres, for I wil not haue you mist, 325 
You shall to ttenlv to cheere vp your guests 
Fore supper ginne, tT, rdot, bid her adew,-- 
Say farewell to your hostesse fore she goes. 
Sirha, away, and set ber safe at home. 
lfoslesse. Maister tTurde», when shall we see l'ou at lfenl_j, ? 330 
E.rettn! Ioslesse and lhe lgeuill. 
_Rurdot. The deuill take thee and /-Avh' too. 
AHles. Maister, shall I lnake a good lnotion ? 
)Tacots. Whats that ? 
Alil«s. Narry, Sir, nowe that my hostesse is gone to prouide 
supper, conjure vp another spirite and send doctor urden 335 
flying after.-- 
Y?acon. Tlms, rulers of out Accademicke State, 
You haue seene the Frier frame his art by proofe: 
And as the collcdge called razen,ose 
Is vnder him, and he the maister there, 3o 
So surely shall this head of brasse be framde, 
And yeeld forth strange and vncoth Aphorismes: 
And tfel! and lçecc«te shall faile the Frier, 
But I will circle tglacl round with brasse. 
Iriles. So be it, d-," nunc G se»er, Amen. 


818 thine] thy Q3 828 drops Q3 825 hlistris Q2 3 829 her 
safe] ber selle Q3 885 vp oto. Qa 889 13rasen-nose Q3 840 he 
oto. Q and he oto. Q3 345 munc Q3 


(SCENE III. At Harleston.) 
tnter Margaret t/te faire l[ayd of Fresingfield, with Thomas a3d 
Ione, and olher clownes : Lacie disguised in cous2trie a@arell. 
T]wmas. By my troth, 3£argre[, heeres a wether is able to 
make a man call his father whorson ; if this wether hold, 
wee shall haue hay good cheape, and butter and cheese 
at Z-Zar[s[on will beare no price. 
3.[argret. 'homas, maides when they corne to sec the faire 350 
Count not to make a cope for dearth of hay: 
When we haue turnd our butter to the salt, 
And set our cheese safely vpon the rackes, 
Then let our fathers price it as they please. 
We countrie sluts of merry Freshtgfleld 355 
Come to buy needlesse noughts to make vs fine, 
And looke that yong-men should be francke this day, 
And court vs with such fairings as they can. 
1)hoebus is blythe and frolicke lookes from heauen, 
As when he courted louely SemeIe, 360 
Swearing the pedlers shall haue emptie packs, 
If that faire wether may make chapmen buy. 
Zacie. But, louely t'eggie, Semele is dead, 
And therefore t'hoeb«s flore his pallace pries, 
And seeing such a sweet and seemly saint, 365 
Shewes ail his glories for to court your selfe. 
Iargret. This is a fairing, gentle sir, indeed, 
To sooth me vp with such smooth flatterie; 
But learne of me, your scoffes to broad before: 
Well Zone, our bewties must abide their iestes, 37o 
We serue the turne in iolly Fresbtgfleld. 
Zone. fargrel, a farmers daughter for a farmers sonne: 
I warrant you, the meanest of vs both 
Shall haue a mate to leade vs ri-oto the Church. 
But, Thomas, whats the newes? what, in a dumpe? 375 
Giue me your hand, we are neere a pedlers shop; 
Out with your purse, we must haue fairings now. 
'homas. Faith, Zone, and shall : Ile bestow a fairing on you, 
S. D. Fresinfield Q3 disguisen Q3 46 her's Q3 adle Q3 
8t8 chape Q2 3 851 cohe Q3 358 safelyom. Q2 5t father Q3 
price] prize 19yce and f;ard 66 glory Q3 69 your scoffe's Q2 : 
you scoffe's Q3 370 beauty (23 72 Joane Q3 


and then we will to the Tauern, and snap off a pint of 
wine or two. 380 
.4Nthis while Lacie whi@ers Margret in tire eare. 
_/ll'argreL Whence are you, sir ? of St¢ffo[ke ? for your tearmes 
Are finer than the common sort of men. 
Zacie. Faith, louely girle, I am of eckles by, 
¥our neighbour, not aboue six miles from hence, 
A farmers sonne, that neuer was so quaint 385 
But that he could do courtesie to such dames: 
But trust me, hrgret, I ana sent in charge, 
From him that reueld in your fathers house, 
And fild his Lodge with cheere and venison, 
Tyred in greene: he sent you this rich purse, 390 
His token that he helpt you run your cheese, 
And in the milkhouse chatted with your selfe. 
:l[argret. To me? you forget your selfe. 
Zacie. Women are often weake in memorie. 
.MargreL Oh pardon, sir, I call to mind the man, 395 
Twere little manners to refuse his gift, 
And yet I hope he sends it not for loue: 
For we haue little leisure to debate of that. 
_Zone. What, .I-argret, blush not! mayds must haue their loues. 
7"homas. Nay, by the masse, she lookes pale as if she were 4oo 
.Richard. Sirha, are you of eckls ? I pray, how dooth goodman 
Cob ? my father bought a horse of him. Ile tell you, .Marget, 
a were good to be a gentl.emans iade, for of ail things the 
foule hilding could hot abide a doongcart. 4o5 
.[argreL How different is this farmer from the rest, 
That earst as yet bath pleasd my wandring sight! 
His words are wittie, quickened with a smile, 
His courtesie gentle, smelling cf the Court ; 
Facill and debonaire in ail his deeds, 41o 
Proportiond as was _Paris, when, in gray, 
He courted Aozon in the vale of 2"roy. 
Great lords haue corne and pleaded for my loue: 
79 we will goe to Q3 off] of Q3 S.D. whisper Q3 81, 382 Qq 
print as 3rose 391 help your run Q3 39;3 you forget your selle 
])yce and IVard assig« to Zacy 402 Beckles Q2 3 doth Q2 
404 gentilemans Q3 405 dung-cart Q2 3 



Who but the Keepers lasse of fi'resingfleld? 
And yet me thinks this Farmers iolly sonne 415 
Passeth the prowdest that hath pleasd mine eye. 
But, teg, dlsclose hot that thou art in loue, 
And shew as yet no signe of loue to him, 
Although thou well wouldst wish him for thy loue; 
Keepe that to thee till tilne doth serue thy turne, 4o 
To shew the greefe wherein thy heart doth burne. 
Corne, _,rone and Thomas, shall we to the faire? 
You, .Beckls man, will not forsake vs now. 
Lade. Not whilst I may haue such quaint girls as you. 
fldargret. Vell, if you chaunce to corne by fi'resingfldd, 45 
Make but a step into the Keepers lodge; 
And such poore fare as Woodmen can affoord, 
Butter and cheese, creame, and fat venison, 
¥ou shall haue store, and welcome therewithalI. 
Lacie. Gramarcies, _Peggie, looke for me eare long. 430 
lxeunt Omnes. 

(SCENE I. The Court al Londot. ) 
Enter Henry the third, the emperour, (the Duke of Saxony), the King 
of Castile, Elinor his daugMer, Iaques Vandermast a Germaine. 
J-Zenrie. Great men of uro¢e, monarks of the West, 
Ringd with the wals of old Oceanus, 
Whose lofties::ge is like the battelments 
That compast high built t?aell in with towers, 435 
Welcome my lords, welcome braue westerne kings, 
To nglands shore, whose promontorie cleeues 
Shewes ilbion is another little world; 
Welcome sayes English ttenrie to you all, 
Chiefly vnto the louely .leanour, 44o 
Who darde for .dwards sake eut through the Seas, 
And venture as lgenors damsell through the deepe, 
To get the loue of tenries wanton sonne. 
Castile. 2nglands rich Monarch, braue _Plantaenet, 
415 joylly Q2 3 soone Q3 416 bleas'd Q3 427 stept Qz 
428 fait Q3 41 ere Qa 3 S, D. Germane Q2 3 44 snrges Qf z 
cour-. Z)yce 442 And venture as Agenor's damsel did sugg, Z)yce 

3 ° 


The _Pryen mounts swelling aboue the clouds, 44.  
That ward the welthie Caslile in with walles, 
Could not detaine the beautious leanour; 
But hearing of the faine of dwards youth, 
She darde to brooke 2Veptunus haughtie pride, 
And bide the brunt of froward olus. 450 
Then may faire L»gland welcome her the more. 
litor. After that English t-Zenrie by his lords 
Had sent prince tdwards louely counterfeit, 
A present to the Caslile £linor, 
The comly pourtrait of so braue a man, 455 
The vertuous lame discoursed of his deeds, 
dTe,ards couragious resolution, 
Donc at the holy land fore Z)amas walles, 
Led both mine eye and thoughts in equall links, 
To like so of the English Monarchs sonne, 460 
That I attempted perrils for his sake. 
»@erour. Where is the Prince, my lord ? 
tZenrie. He posted down, not long since, from the court, 
To Suffolke side, to merrie t;remigham, 
To sport himselfe amongst my fallow deere: 465 
Froln thence, by packets sent to fZampton house, 
We heare the Prince is ridden, with his lords, 
To Oaford, in the Academie there 
To heare dispute amongst the learned men, 
But we will send foorth letters for my sonne, 47o 
To will him corne from to the Court. 
'»e. Nay, rather, I-Ze¢rie, let vs, as we be, 
Ride for to visite Oaford with our traine. 
Faine would I sec your Vniuersities, 
And what learned men your Academie yields, 475 
From _,r-faspurg haue I brought a learned clarke, 
To hold dispute with English Orators. 
This doctor, surnam'd dogues Va»dermast, 
A Germaine borne, past into -padua, 
To Z;lorence, and to faire Bolonia, 4so 
To _Paris, 2?heims, and stately Orleans, 

5 Caslile] costly Q3 56 discouered Q3 ,t59 Lad Q3 
Q3 t68 the oto. Q3 473 Ozford Q3 4ï8 surmamde QI 
man Q3 481 straitly Q3 

66 Hamton 


3 1 

And talking there with men of art, put downe 
The chiefest of them all in Aphorismes, 
In Magicke, and the Mathematicke rules: 
Now let vs, ttenrie, trie him in your schooles. 485 
Z-Zenrie. He shal, my lord ; this motion likes me wel. 
Weele progresse straight to Oaford with out trains, 
And see what men our Academie bringes. 
And, woonder Va3dermast, welcome to me: 
In Oaford shalt thou find a iollie frier, 49 ° 
Cald Frier acon, ng[ands only flower: 
Set him but Non-plus in his magicke spels, 
And make him yeeld in Mathematicke rules, 
And for thy glorie I will bind thy browes, 
Not with a poets garland ruade of Baies, 495 
But with a coronet of choicest gold. 
Whilst then we Œfitt to Oaford with out troupes, 
Lets in and banquet in out English court. 


(SCENE II. At O.tford.) 

lïnter Raphe Simnell b Edwardes aî@arrell, Edward, Warren, 
Ermsby disguisal. 
Raphe. Where be these vacabond knaues, that they attend 
no better on their maister? 500 
dward. If it please your honour, we are all ready at an inch. 
)?aphe. Sirha 2êd, Ile haue no more post horse to ride on : 
Ile haue another fetch. 
rmsbie. I pray you, how is that, my Lord ? 
2?a2he. Marrie, sir, Ile send to the Ile of ]Fely for foure or 505 
fiue dozen of Geese, and Ile haue them tide six and six 
together with whipcord; Now vpon their backes will 
I haue a faire field bed, with a Canapie; and so 
when it is my pleasure Ile flee into what place I please ; 
this will be easie. SlO 
lHarren. Your honour bath said well; but shall we to 
t?rasenwse Colledge before we pull off our bootes ? 
rmsbie. Irren, well motioned ; wee will to the Frier 
483 Aphorisemes Q3 485 Sehoole Q3 491 flowre Q2 3 497 fit] 
sit Q : set 93,ce atd IVard 499 vagabond Q 3 501 all oto. Q. 3 
502 post-horses Q3 508 feteht Q3 508 Canopy Qz 3 12 13razennose Q3 

Belote we reuell it within the towne. 
_aphe, see you keepe your countenance like a Prince. 55 
_a_phe. Wherefore haue I such a companie of cutting knaues 
to wait vpon me, but to keep and defend my countenance 
against all naine enemies ? Haue you not good swords and 
bucklers ?-- 
tnter Bacon and Miles. 
rms3ie. Stay, who cornes heere? 5ao 
llZarren. Some scholler; and weele aske him where Frier 
Bacon is. 
2acon. Why, thou arrant dunce, shal I neuer make thee good 
scholler? doth hot all the towne crie out, and say, Frier 
2acons subsiser is the greatest blockhead in all Oxford? 5a5 
why, thou canst hot speake one word of true Latine. 
3¢iIes. No sir, yes, what is this els ; ',ço sure 't««s homo, 
I ana your man? I warrant you, sir, as good Tullies 
phrase as any is in O.xford. 
Bacon. Corne on, sirha ; what part of speech is 'g'o ? 
[iles. Ego, that is I; marrie, nomen s«stantiw. 53o 
tacon. How prooue you that ? 
t"iles. Why, sir, let him prooue himselfe and a will i I can 
be hard, felt, and vnderstood. 
tacon. Oh grosse dunce! 
Hem beate him. 
tdw. Corne, let vs breake off this dispute between these two. 55 
Sirha, where is lrazennose Colledge ? 
2V[iles. Not far from Co2er-Smilhes hall. 
2dward. What, doest thou mocke me? 
2lIiles. Not I, sir, but what would you at Jrazennose ? 
rmsbie. Marrie, we would speake with frier Jacon. 54 ° 
riles. Whose men be you ? 
Ermsbie. Marrie, scholler, heres our maister. 
_a_he. Sirha, I ana the maister of these good fellowes. Mayst 
thou not know me to be a Lord by my reparrell? 
[iles. Then heeres good gaine for the hawke ; for heers the 545 
maister foole, and a couie of Cockscombs : one wise man 
I thinke would spring you ail. 
ldward. Gogs wounds! lVarren, kill him. 
527 yes oto. Q3 : yet Z)yce and IlZard 5.'29 on oto. Q2 3 588 heard 
Qa 3 55 off] of Q3 586 Braison-nose Q3 

IVarren. Why, 2XC, I thinke the deuill be in my sheath, 
I cannot get out my dagger. 550 
rmsbie. Nor I naine. Swones, 2Ved, I thinke I am bewitcht. 
Ariles. _A companie of scabbes! the proudest of you all 
drawe your weapon if he tan. See how boldly I speak 
now my maister is by. 
dward. I striue in vaine ; but if my sword be s.hut, 555 
And coniured fast by magicke in my sheath, 
Villaine, heere is my fist. 
Slrike him a 3ox on lhe eare. 
AHles. Oh, I beseech you conjure his hands too, that he 
may hOt lift his armes to his head, for he is light 
fingered ! 56o 
tda_phe. 2V-ed, strike him, Ile warrant thee by mine honour. 
acoz. What meanes the English prince to wrong my lnan ? 
dward. To whom speakest thou ? 
acon. To thee. 
tdward. Who art thou? 565 
Nacon. Could you not iudge, when ail your swords grew fast, 
That frier Nacon was not farre from hence ? 
Fdzvard, King Z-Zenries sonne and Prince of ll;ales, 
Thy foole disguisd cannot conceale thy selfe: 
I know both rmsbie and the Sussex Earle, 570 
Els Frier Nacon had but little skill. 
Thou comest in post from inertie resbtgfleld, 
Fast fancied to the Keepers bonny lasse, 
To craue some succour of the iolly Frier; 
And Zacie, Earle of Zincolne, hast thou left, S75 
To treat faire A2rarret to allow thy loues: 
But friends are men, and loue tan baffle lords ; 
The Earle both woes and courtes her for himselfe. 
lVarren. 2Ved, this is strange ; the frier knoweth al. 
rmsbie. Appollo could hOt vtter more than this. 580 
dward. I stand amazed to heare this iolly Frier, 
Tell euen the verie secrets of my thoughts: 
But, learned Nacon, since thou knowest the cause 
Why I did post so fast from l;resizgKeld, 
555 bel by Q2 
57 °" poasttQ 2 3 
581 here of this Q3 

558 hand Q2 3 to Q3 569 fool disguise lVard 
575 Eare QI 578 wooes Q2 3 580 Apollo Q2 3 
583 knew Q3 

Helpe, Frier, at a pinch, that I may haue 585 
The loue of louely $Iargret to my selle, 
And as I ara truc Prince of IVales, Ile giue 
Liuing and Iands to strength thy colledge state. 
lVarren. Good Frier, helpe the Prince in this. 
Ra]e. Why, semant _/Ved, will not the frier doe it ?--Were 59 ° 
not my sword glued to my scabberd by coniuration, 
I would cut off his head, and make him do it by force. 
[iles. In faith, my lord, your manhood and your sword 
is all alike, they are so fast coniured that we shall 
neuer see them. 595 
rm#ie. What, doctor, in a dumpe ? tush, helpe the prince, 
And thou shalt see how liberall he will prooue. 
17acon. Craue not such actions greater dumps than these? 
I will, my lord, straine out my magicke spels ; 
For this day cornes the earle to t;'resingfleld, 600 
And fore that night shuts in the day with darke 
Theile be betrothed ech to other fast: 
But corne with me; weele to my studie straight, 
And in a glasse prospectiue I will shew 
Whats done this day in merry Fresbgfleld. 605 
P_.dward. Gramercies, .tTacon, I will quite thy paine. 
_lacon. But send your traine, my lord, into the towne, 
My scholler shall go bring them to their Inne: 
Meane while weele see the knauerie of the Earle. 
.P_.dward. lKarren, leaue me: and P_.rms3[e, take the foole;6xo 
Let him be maister and go reuell it, 
Till I and Frier .Bacon talke a while. 
IXrren. We will, my lord. 
.Ra,e. Faith, 2Ved, and Ile Iord it out till thou comest; 
Ile be Prince of Wales ouer all the blacke pots in Oxford. 
(Sc III. Z?riar .acon's 
Bacon and Edward ffoes inlo the study. 
.tTaco». Now, frolick .Edvard, welcome to my Cell; 
Heere tempers Frier .tTacon many toies, 
58î as/" ara the Prince Q3 588 Colledge' Oz : college-state Z?y«e 
and [Vard 596 Wat (I 600 toi of Q2 3 601 shut 
602 each Q2 3 608 thy study (3 606 quit Q3 607 your] thy 
into] unto (23 608 go and bring Q5 611 toaster, Qe 5,-Dyce and IYard 


And holds this place his consistorie court, 
Wherein the diuels pleads homage to his words. 
Within this glasse prospectiue thou shalt sec 620 
This day wbats donc in merry 
Twixt louely -Peggie and the Zbzcobze eafle. 
.Ea'ward. Frier, thou gladst me: now shall ]clward trie 
How Zacie meaneth to his soueraigne lord. 
.Baron. Stand there and looke directly in the glasse. 

lïnler Margret a»td Frier Bungay. 
t?acon. What secs my lord? 
l?clwarcl. I sec the Keepers louely lasse appeare, 
As bright-some as the parramour of 2rats, 
Onely attended by a iolly frier. 
t?acon. Sit still, and keepe the christall in your eye. 63o 
2Iar'et. But tell me, frier t?uzgay, is it truc, 
That this faire courtious countrie swaine, 
Who saies his father is a fariner nie, 
Can be lord Zacie, Earle of Zb,coltshire? 
t?u»gay. _Peggie, tis truc, tis Zacie for my life, 635 
Or else naine art and cunning both doth faile, 
Left by prince lF.dward to procure his loues; 
For he in greene that holpe you runne your cheese, 
Is sonne to ffenry, and the prince of lUales. 
A;rargret. Be what he will his lure is but for lust: 640 
But did lord Zacie like poore 3[argret, 
Or would he daine to wed a countrie lasse, 
Frier, I would his humble handmayd be, 
And for great wealth quite him with courtesie. 
t?ungay. Why, ;][argret, doest thou loue him ? 645 
3,rgret. His personage, like the pride of vaunting 2"roy, 
Might well auouch to shadow ffellens rape: 
His wit is quicke and readie in conceit, 
As Greece affoorded in her chiefest prime. 
Courteous, ah Frier, full of pleasing smiles. 6o 
Trust me, I loue too much to tell thee more, 

619 pleade Q2 624 his .Dyce: this Qq 
bright-sunne Qq Paramour Q2: paramont Q3 
634 Lincornshier Q3 635 truc] rime Q3 
638 helpe Q3 to run Q2 3 640 lure] loue Q3 
646 a pride Q3 67 tape .Dyce : cape Qq 

1) 2 

628 bright-some l?,ce : 
631 it is true, Q3 
636 doth] doe Q2 
645 thou oto. Qz 3 

3 6 
Suffice to me he is Fzg[alzds parramour. 
thozgay. Hath not ech eye that viewd thy pleasing face 
Surnamed thee faire maid of fi'resz',gflelcl? 
A[argret. Yes, Bztngay, and would God the louely Earle 655 
Had that in esse, that so many sought. 
t«ngay. Feare not, the Frier will not be behind 
To shew his cunning to entangle loue. 
Edward. I thinke the Frier courts the bonny wench; 
t?a«o,, me thinkes he is a lustie churle. 66o 
]'acon. Now looke, my lord. 
lnter Lacie. 
Edward. Gogs wounds, acon, heere cornes Zacie. 
acon. Sit still, my lord, and marke the commedie. 
5'zingay. Heeres Zacie; _/lIargret, step aside awhile. 
Zacie. 29ahe, the damsell that caught _19haebus fast 665 
And lockt him in the brightnesse of her lookes, 
Was not so beauteous in .4o[los eyes 
As is faire _/][argret to the Zilwo/ne Earle. 
Recant thee, Zacie, thou art put in trust: 
tde,ard, thy soueraignes sonne, hath chosen thee, 670 
A secret friend, to court ber for himselfe: 
And darest thou wrong thy Prince with trecherie? 
Zacie, loue makes no exception of a friend, 
Nor deemes it of a Prince but as a man: 
Honour bids thee controll him in his lust; 675 
His wooing is hot for to wed the gifle, 
But to intrap ber and beguile the lasse: 
Zacfe, thou louest ; then brooke hot such abuse, 
But wed her, and abide thy Princes frowne: 
For better die, then see ber liue disgracde. 680 
][arreL Corne, Frier, I will shake him from his dumpes. 
How cheere you, sir? a penie for your thought: 
Vour early vp, pray God it be the neere. 
What, corne from t?ectë[es in a morne so soone ? 
Zacie. Thus watchfull are such men as liue in loue, 
Whose eyes brooke broken slumbers for their sleepe, 
652 English Q3 658 or entangle Q3 
670 the soueraine son Q3 671 to court him her Q3 
675 thee] me Q. 3 680 better oint. Qe 3 
684 what 'are corne Qe 3 


665 thoebus Q3 
673 acception Q 
682 your] my Q3 

I tell thee, _Pegg[e, since last Z-Zars/o,t faire 
My minde hath felt a heape of passions. 
][argret. A trustie man, that court it for your fiiend. 
Woo you still for the courtier all in greene ? 69o 
I maruell that he sucs not for himselfe. 
Zacie. _Peggie, I pleaded first to get your grace for him; 
But when lnine eies suruaid your beautious lookes, 
Loue, like a wagge, straight diued into my heart, 
And there did shrine the Idea of your selle: 695 
Pittie me though I be a farmers sonne, 
And measure not my riches, but my loue. 
llhzrgret. You are verie hastie; for to garden well, 
Seeds must haue time to sprout before they spring: 
Loue ought to creepe as doth the dials shade, 7oo 
For timely ripe is rotten too too soone. 
Bu«gO,. Jgeus hic ; roome for a merry Frier! 
What, youth of Beckles, with the Keepers lasse? 
Tis well; but tell me, heere you any newes. 
_J[argret. No, Frier: what newes ? 7o5 
Nu»gaj,. Heere you hot how the purseuants do post 
With proclamations through ech country towne? 
Zacie. For what, gentle frier ? tell the newes. 
u»gaj,. Dwetst thou in eck/es, and heerst not of these news ? 
ravie, the Earle of Zb«coh«e, is late fled 7IC 
From IUDdsor court, disguised like a swaine, 
And lurkes about the countrie heere vnknowne. 
Ztenrie suspects him of some trecherie, 
And therefore doth proclaime in euery way, 
That who tan take the fi¢col¢e earle shall haue, 
Paid in the Exchequer, twentie thousand crownes. 
Zacie. The earle of Zi»coln t. Frier, thou art mad: 
It was some other: thou mistakest the man: 
The earle of f[ncolte, t why, it cannot be. 
][argret. Yes, verie well, my lord, for you are he: 
The keepers daughter tooke you prisoner, 
Lord Zacie, yeeld, Ile be your gailor once. 
2dze,ard. How familiar they be, 27acon .t 
689 it o»t. Q3 690 Woo] Woe Q3 698 You are verie hastie for to Q, 
tort. ]9,,ce : You are over hastie for to sugg. J. C. Smith 7'05 Z)y,_e 
IVard assign lo Zacy 706 Pursevants Q3 709 of oto. Q 
717 thon art] art thou Q3 


taco. Sit still and marke the sequell of their loues. 
£acie. Then ana I double prisoner to thy selfe: 725 
29eggie, I yeeld; but are these newes in iest ? 
3hgret. In iest with you, but earnest vnto me: 
For why these wrongs do wring me at the heart. 
Ah, how these earles and noble men of birth 
Flatter and faine to forge poore womens ill. 73 ° 
Zade. Beleeue me, lasse, I aih the Zi«colne Earle: 
I hot denie, but, tyred thus in rags, 
I liued disguisd to winne faire _Peggies loue. 
l][aret. What loue is there where wedding ends hot loue? 
Lacie. I meant, faire girle, to make thee Lacies wife. 735 
A[aret. I little thinke that earles wil stoop so low. 
Lade. Say, shall I make thee countesse ere I sleep? 
3[arg. Handmaid vnto the earle, so please himselfe: 
A wife in naine, but seruant in obedience. 
Lacie. The Licolne countesse, for it shalbe so: 740 
Ile plight the bands, and seale it with a kisse. 
tdward. Gogs wounds, ]?acon, they kisse! Ile stab them. 
N'aco. Oh, hold your handes, my lord, it is the glasse! 
.dvard. Coller to see the traitors gree so well 
Made me thinke the shadowes substances. 745 
acon. Twere a long poinard, my lord, to reach betweene 
O,ford and _Fresb«gfleld; but sit still and see more. 
lu»ga.r. Well, lord of Lincolne, if your loues be knit, 
And that your tongues and thoughts do both agree, 
To auoid insuing iarres, Ile halnper vp the match. 750 
Ile take my portace forth, and wed you heere, 
Then go to bed and seale vp your desires. 
Lacie. Frier, content; 29eggie, how like you this ? 
Zl[argret. What likes my lord is pleasing vnto me. 
Bc«ngay. Then hand-fast hand, and I wil to my booke. 755 
Baco». What sees my lord now ? 
E'dward. Bacon, I see the louers hand in hand, 
The Frier readie with his portace there 
To wed them both: then ana I quite vndone. 
B«con, helpe now, if ere thy magicke serude, 760 

724 sequill of there loue (?3 70 forge] forgoe (?3 732 I not deny 
but, Dyce ad ll7ard 735 meane Q3, .D.1/ce, ll-ard 741 seale] saile Q3 
745 Made me [toi think 193,ce , lI'ard 760 bis bi Q2 3 : thy] the Q32ri»to 

Helpe, acalz, stop the marriage 
If diuels or nigromansie may suffice, 
And I will giue thee fortie thousand crownes. 
acon. Feare not my lord, Ile stop the iolly Frier 
For mumbling vp his orisons this day. 765 
Zacie. Why speakst hot, 2?zo«ga),? Frier, to thy booke. 
Bungay is rutile, crying ,r-dud hud. 
l[argret. ttow lookest thou, frier, as a man distraught ? 
Reft of thy sences, «ngay ? shew by signes 
If thou be dura what passions holdeth thee. 770 
Zacie. Hees dumbe indeed: Bacon hath with his diuels 
Inchanted him, or else solne strange disease 
Or Appoplexie hath possest his lungs: 
But, .Peggie, what he cannot with his booke 
Weele twixt vs both vnite it vp in heart. 775 
dl[argreL Els let me die, my lord, a miscreant. 
deard. Why stands frier zozga.v so alnazd ? 
acon. I haue strook him dura, my lord ; and if your honor 
Ile fetch this ttttgay straightway from resingdfeld , 
And he shall dine with vs in Oaford here. 780 
dzeard. aco«, doe that, and thou contentest me. 
Zacie. Of courtesie, 2l[«rgrel, let vs lead the frier 
Vnto thy fathers lodge, to comfort him 
With brothes to bring him from this haplesse trance. 
[argreL Or els, my lord, we were passing vnkinde 785 
To leaue the frier so in his distresse. 
nler a deuill, a,td carrie Bungay on his backe. 
Zargret. 0 helpe, my lord! a deuill, a deuill, my lord! 
Looke how he carries 2?u,,gay on his backe ! 
Lets hence, for d?acons spirits be abroad. 

tdze:ard. acon, I laugh to see the iolly Frier 
Mounted vpon the diuell, and how the Earle 

765 For] From l'd aflcr llg;¢er 769 Reft if thy siences (23 
770 passion Q. 3 72, Inchant Q3 77-3 Apoplexie Q2 : Aporplexie 
hath passed him longs Q3 777 t?utffay lIS. corr. i;t Q3: tacoz Qf 
779 straightway] straight IFard, stgg. 193'ce 78t boths Q3 790 Baco Q] 
791 laugh] loue Q3 

Flees with his bonny lasse for feare. 
Assoone as 13ul«gay is at JrazemzosG 
And I haue chatted with the merrie frier, 
I will in post hic me to _FresD«gfleld, 
And quite these wrongs on Zacie ere it be long. 
Jacoz. So be it, my lord, but let vs to our dinner: 
For ere we haue taken our repast awhile, 
We hall haue Jungay brought to .Bra:emzose. 



<SCENE IV. 2he egent-house at Oaford.) 
Enter three doclors, Burden, Mason, Clement. 
.[ason. Now that we are gathered in the regent house, 
It fits vs talke about the Kings repaire 
For he, troopt with all the western Kings, 
That lie alongst the Dansick seas by East, 
North by the clilne of frostie Germanie, 805 
The Almabz Monarke, and the Saxon duke, 
Casœeile, and louely lliwr with him, 
Haue in their iests resolued for Oaford towne. 
t?urdem We must lay plots of stately tragedies, 
Strange comick showes, such as proud _ossi«s 
Vaunted before the _omane Emperours, 
To welcome all the westerne Potentates. 
Cle»mL But more ; the King by letters hath foretold 
That Fredericke, the Almaile Emperour, 
Hath brought with him a Germane of esteeme, 815 
Whose surname is Doz Zaquesse Vandermas4 
Skilfull in magicke and those secret arts. 
erason. Then must we all make sute vnto the fi'ier, 
To Frier Jacon, that he vouch this taske, 
And vndertake to counteruaile in skill 
The German, els theres none in Oford can 
Match and dispute with learned l/'andermast. 
Jurden. Jaco«, if he will hold the German play, 
79 his] the Q3 795 o»z. Q2 3 796 in post] not passe Q3 
802 Kings] long Q- 3 803 troopt] troopèd Z?yce 804 Dancing Q3 
806 AlmanDtê Manarke Q3 Saxon Z?yce : Scocon Qq 807 Castle Q3 
809 of] for Q3 810 Camicke Q3 811 Romans Q3 81°.2 Qfgiï'e 
lo Cle»enl 

Will teach him what an English Frier can doe: 
The diuell I thinke dare not dispute with him. 8., 5 
ClemetL Indeed, mas doctor, he (dis)pleasured you, 
In that he brought your hostesse, with her spit, 
From Z/edy, posting vnto Brazemose. 
tTurde.t. A vengeance on the Frier for his paines. 
But leauing that, lets hie to Pacon straight, 
To see if he will take this taske in hand. 
ClemenL Stay, what rumor is this? the towne is vp in a 
Mutinie: what hurly burlie is this? 
lïnter a Constable, witlz Raphe, Warren, Ermsbie and Miles. 
Consta3le. Nay, maisters, if you were nere so good, you shall 
before the doctors to aunswer your misdemeanour. 835 
Purden. Whats the matter, fellow ? 
Constable. Marie, sir, heres a companie ofrufflers that, drinking 
in the Tauerne, haue made a great braule, and ahnost 
kilde the vintner. 840 
][iles. Salue, doctor turden! this lubberly lurden, 
Ill shapte and ill faced, disdaind and disgraced, 
What he tels vnto obis, metitur de nobis. 
urdesz. Who is the maister and cheefe of this crew ? 
J[iles. Ecce asimtm mmtdi, figm-a rotutdi ; 845 
Neat sheat and fine, as briske as a cup of wine. 
turden. What are you ? 
_,zæ. I ara, father doctor, as a man would say, the Bel- 
wether of this c6pany: these are my lords, and I the 
prince of IVales. 85 ° 
Clement. Are you tdward, the Kings sonne? 
Jabhe. Sirra _[iles, bring hither the tapster that drue the 
wine; and I warrant when they see how soundly I haue 
broke his head, theile say twas done by no lesse man 
than a prince. 855 
[ason. I cannot beleeue that this is the prince of IVales. 
ll'arren. And why so, sir ? 
[ason. For they say the prince is a braue and a wise 
lYar. Why, and thinkest thou, doctor, that he is not so ? 860 
824 \viii l?yce : Weele QI  We'le Q 3 826 displeasured l?yce : 


Darst thou detract and derogat from him, 
Being so louely and so braue a youth ? 
lrmsbie. Whose face, shining with many a sugred stalle, 
Bewraies that he is bred of princely race: 
A[iles. And yet, maister doctor, to speake like a proctor, 865 
And tell vnto you, what is veriment and truc, 
To cease of this quarrell, looke but on his apparrell; 
Then lnarke but my talis, he is great prince of IValis, 
The cheefe of our gregis, and filles regis, 
Then ware what is donc, for he is fZelries white sonne. 870 
2?a2he. Doctors, whose doting night caps are not capable of 
my ingenious digmtie, know that I ara 2FdwardPlantageml, 
whom if you displease, will make a shippe that shall hold 
ail your colleges, and so carrie away the Niniuersitie, with 
a fayre wind, to the Bankeside in Southwarke: how sayst 
thou, 2Ved IFarraine, shall I not do it ? 
Hbrren. Yes my good lord; and if it please your lordship, 
I wil gather vp al your old pantophles, and with the corke 
make you a Pinnis of fiue hundred tunne, that shall serue 
the turne maruellous well, my lord. 880 
lrms3ie. And I, my lord, will haue Pioners to vndermine the 
towne, that the very gardens and orchards be carried away 
for your summer walkes. 
Iiles. And I with sdentia, and great diligentia, 
Will coniure and charme, to keepe you from harme, 885 
That vlrum /wrum mauis, your very great nauis, 
Like arllets ship, from Oford do skip, 
With Colleges and schooles, full loaden with fooles, 
Quid dites ad ho«, worshipfull domine Z?awcocke ? 
ÇlemenL Why, harebraind courtiers, are you drunke or mad, 890 
To taunt vs vp with such scurilitie ? 
Deeme you vs men of base and light esteeme, 
To bring vs such a fop for Henries sonne? 
Call out the beadls and conuay them hence 
Straight to ocardo: let the roisters lie 895 
Close clapt in bolts, vntill their wits be tame. 
Erms3ie. Why, shall we to prison, my lord ? 
86 bread Q3 866 verimens Q3 873 whom] who Q3 III will 
19yce and lVard 880 turne] tune Q3 marvellou QI 887 ]3art]ets] 
Barclay's Z)yce and IFard 869 dicis Z)yce and IVard 893 for] fore Q3 
89t henee QI 

ldhe. What saist, llZiles, shall I honour the prison with my 
presence ? 
zl'Ziles. No no, out with your blades, and hamper these iades, 900 
Haue a flurt and a crash, now play reuell dash, 
And teach these Sacerdos, that the Bocardos, 
Like pezzants and elues, are meet for thelnselues. 
M'ason. To the prison with them, constable. 
lVarren. Well, doctors, seeing I haue sported me, 905 
With laughing at these mad & merrie wagges, 
Know that prince t?dward is at Bn«zenlzose, 
And, this, attired like the prince of IUales, 
Is Ra2Nze , King 1[enfles only loued foole ; 
I, Earle of Sussex, and this rmsbie, 9o 
One of the priuie chamber to the King, 
Who, while the prince with Frier Bacon staies, 
Haue reueld it in Oaford as you see. 
_rason. My lord, pardon vs, we knew hot what you were: 
But courtiers may make greater skapes than these. 95 
Wilt please your honour dine with me to day ? 
lFarren. I will, maister doctor, and satisfie the vintner for his 
hurt; only I must desire you fo imagine him all this fore- 
noon the prince of lVales. 
A[ason. I will, sir. 920 
N«he. And vpon that I will lead the way; onely I will haue 
_/1Ziles go before me, because I haue heard I-Ienrie say that 
wisedome must go before Maiestie. 
E;e¢ol Omnes. 


(Sc; I. At f'ressiî¢gfield.) 
nter #riwe Edward witlz his #oinard bz his hand, Lacie 
and Margret. 
L&ioard. Zacie, thou canst hot shroud thy traitrous thoughts, 
Nor couer as did Cassh«s ail his wiles ; 
For dioard hath an eye that lookes as farre 
As Zitcaeus from the shores of Grecia. 
Did I hot sit in Oaford by the Frier, 
901 play oto. Q2 3 910 Sussex] Essex Qq 
915 scapes Q2 3 925 his] thy Z)yce azd 147ard 


918 it oto. Qe 3 
928 in] at Q3 



And see thee court the mayd of trreszgfleld, 
Sealing thy flattering fancies with a kisse ? 
Did not prowd Btzgay draw his portasse foorth, 
And ioyning hand in hand had married you, 
If Frier Baco,z had not stroke him dumbe, 
And lnounted hiln vpon a spirits backe, 
That we might chat at Oaford with the frier ? 
Traitor, what answerst? is not all this truc ? 
Z«cie. Truth all, my Lord, and thus I make replie. 
At Z-Z«rlstone faire, there courting for your grace, 
When as mine eye suruaid her curious shape, 
And drewe the beautious glory of her looks 
To diue into the tenter of my heart, 
Loue taught me that your honour did but lest, 
That princes were in rancie but as men, 
How that the louely lnaid of _Fresbtgfleld 
Was fitter to be Zacies wedded wife, 
Than concubine vnto the prince of lI'ale. 
t?dwar& Iniurious Zacie, did I loue thee more 
Than Akxander his jr[ephestion ? 
Did I vnfould the passions of my loue, 
And locke them in the closset of thy thoughts? 
Wert thou to dward second to himselfe, 
Sole freind and partner of his secreat loues, 
And could a glaunce of fading bewtie breake 
The inchained fetters of such priuat freindes ? 
Base coward, false, and too effiminate 
To be coriuall with a prince in thoughts! 
From Oaford haue I posted since I dinde, 
To quite a traitor fore that &e,ard sleepe. 
_lhrg. Twas I, my Lord, hot Zacie, stept awry, 
For oft he sued and courted for your selfe, 
And still woode for the courtier ail in greene. 
But I whome fancy ruade but ouer fond, 
Pleaded my selfe with looks as if I loud ; 
I fed myne eye with gazing on his face, 
And still bewicht loud Zacie with my looks ; 
90 thy] and Q3 9111 protasse Q3 933 strooke Q3 
Q3 949 passion (21 950 clozet Q2 3 
956 corrival Q2 5 961 woo'd Q2  
963 I oto. Q 



94 ° 






938 Hairlstone 
954 Th' inchained Q3 
962 whome] who Q3 



968 cypher Q- 3 972 beauty Q2 3 piercing Q2 3 973 Is] Are 
l?yce and IVard 976 Seth9g Q3 984 wait Q 985 their 1)yce : 
ber Qq 992 Phoeabus Q3 tired l?yce: tied Qz : tyed Q : try Q3 
998 Came lgj,ce : Come Qq 991 tunes] turns Q3 995 Nor 1)yce : Not Qq 
996 Sould (3 998 Abbata Qx 1001 will faile] vell faire Q3 

My hart with sighes, myne eyes pleaded with tears, 
My face held pittie and content at once ; 
And more I could not sipher out by signes 
But that I loud Lord Zacie with my heart. 
Then, worthy 2dward, measure with thy lninde, 970 
If womens fauours will not force lnen fall, 
If bewtie, and if darts of persing loue, 
Is hot of force to bury thoughts of friendes. 
dward. I tell thee, f'eggie, I will haue thy loues; 
2dward or none shall conquer _hrgret. 975 
In Frigats bottomd with rich Sethin planks, 
Topt with the loftie firs of Zibanon, 
Stemd and incast with burnisht Iuorie 
And ouerlaid with plates of l'ersian wealth, 
Like 2heNs shalt thou wanton on the waues, 980 
And draw the Dolphins to thy louely eyes, 
To daunce lauoltas in the purple streames; 
Sirens, with harpes and siluer psalteries, 
Shall waight with musicke at thy frigots stem, 
And entertaine faire A[argret with their laies. 985 
]?ngland and 2nKlands wealth shall wait on thee, 
]?rittaîne shall bend vnto her princes loue, 
And doe due homage to thine excellence, 
If thou wilt be but Edwards A[argret. 
Mrargret. Pardon, my lord : if Zoues great roialtie 990 
Sent me such presents as to Danae; 
If l'hoebus tired in Zatonas webs, 
Came courting from the beautie of his lodge; 
The dulcet tunes of frolicke Aercurie, 
Nor all the wealth heauens treasurie affoords, 995 
Should make me leaue lord Zacie or his loue. 
]?dw. I haue learnd at Oxford, there, this point of schooles, 
tblata causa, tollilur effectus : 
Zacie, the cause that [argret cannot loue 
Nor fix her liking on the English Prince, ooo 
Take him away, and then the effects will faile. 

Villaine, prepare thy selfe; for I will bathe 
My poinard in the bosome of an earle. 
Zacie. Rather then liue, and misse faire _a[argrets loue, 
Prince .Edward, stop not at the fatall doome, roc5 
But stabb it home, end both my loues and life. 
_a[arg. Braue Prince of IVales, honoured for royall deeds, 
Twere sinne to staine faire lrenus courts with blood, 
Loues conquests ends, my Lord, in courtesie; 
Spare Zacie, gentle .Edzvard, let me die, ioo 
For so both you and he doe cease your loues. 
2dze,ard. Zacie shall die as traitor to his Lord. 
Zacie. I haue deserued it, dward, act it well. 
_a[argret. What hopes the Prince to gaine by Zacies death ? 
dward. To end the loues twixt hiln and [«rgeret. 
3[arg. Why, thinks King e.tries sonne that 3hrgrels loue 
Hangs in the vncertaine ballance of proud time? 
That death shall make a discord of our thoughts? 
No, stab the earle, and fore the morning sun 
Shall vaunt him thrice ouer the loftie east, io2o 
2lIargrel will meet ber Zacie in the heauens. 
Zade. If ought betides to louely fargret, 
That wrongs or wrings her honour from content, 
ur@es rich wealth nor 'g]ads monarchie 
Should not allure Zacie to ouerliue. o25 
Then, dward, short my lire and end her loues. 
hrgret. Rid me, and keepe a friend worth lnany loues. 
Zacie. Nay, dward, keepe a loue worth many friends. 
AIargret. And if thy mind be such as faine hath blazde, 
Then, princely Fdzvard, let vs both abide o3o 
The fatall resolution of thy rage: 
Banish thou rancie, and imbrace reuenge, 
And in one toombe knit both our carkases, 
XVhose hearts were linked in one perfect loue. 
.Edward..Edward, art thou that famous prince of IVales, lO35 
Who at Z)amasco beat the Sarases, 
And broughtst home triumphe on thy launces point, 
1005 fatoll Q3 1007 royall] Riall Q3 1009 conquest Q2 3, .Dyce, 
lVard 1010 gentile Q3 1015 Margaret Q2 1017 th' uneertaine Q2 3 
1018 thoughts] throats Q3 1024 health Q3 Manarehie Q3 
1027 a loue worth many friends Q3 1036 Sarazens Q2 3 1037 And 
brought home triump on thy Lances point ? Q3 


And shall thy plumes be puld by lems downe ? 
Is it princely to disseuer louers leagues, 
To part such friends as glorie in their loues? io4o 
Leaue, JVed, and make a vertue of this fault, 
And further _P,;g and Zacie in their loues: 
So in subduing fancies passion, 
Conquering thy selle, thou getst the richest spoile. 
Zacie, rise vp. Faire _Peggie, heeres my hand, xo45 
The prince of ll/'ales bath conquered all his thoughts, 
And all his loues he yeelds vnto the Earle. 
Zacie, enioy the maid of _resingfleld; 
Make her thy Zincolne countesse at the church, 
And _/Ved, as he is true Plantagenet, io5o 
Will giue her to thee frŒEnckly for thy wife. 
Zade. Humbly I take her of my soueraigne, 
As if that dward gaue me tgl«tds right, 
And richt me with the llbion diadem. 
i][argret. And doth the English Prince mean true? Io55 
Will he vouchsafe to cease his former loues, 
And yeeld the title of a countrie maid 
Vnto Lord Zacie? 
dward. I will, faire _Peggie, as I ara true lord. 
_rg. Then lordly sir, whose conquest is as great, c6o 
In conquering loue, as Caesars victories, 
_/l[argret, as milde and humble in her thoughts 
As was Nspatia vnto Cires selfe, 
Yeelds thanks, and, next lord Zacie, doth inshrine 
dward the second secret in her heart. Io65 
.Edw. Gramercie, _Peggie, now that vowes are past, 
And that your loues are not tobe reuolt: 
Once, Zacie, friendes againe, corne, we will post 
To Oxford, for this day the King is there, 
And brings for ZCdward Castile £11inor. ioîo 
PegKie , I must go see and view my wife, 
I pray God I like ber as I loued thee. 
13eside, lord Zincolne, we shall heare dispute 

1039 Is't Q3 
1044 rich Q3 
1064 Yeeld Q3 
Costly Q3 

legues] loves? Q2 3 10t0 o»z. Q2 3 
1054 rich Q3 1056 cease] sease Q3 
1067 to o. QI 3 revoult Q3 

104. ° _Peggie Q3 
1068 Cyrus Q2 3 
1070 6astilej 


Twixt frier 13acon and learned Nzndermasl. 
_Peggie, weele leaue you for a weeke or two. I(75 
ANtrgrel. As it please lord Zacie: but loues foolish looks 
Thinke footsteps Miles, and minutes to be houres. 
Zacie. Ile hasten, f'ege, to make short returne. 
But please your honour goe vnto the lodge, 
We shall haue butter, cheese, and venison. 1o8o 
And yesterday I brought for [«rgret 
A lustie bottle of neat clarret w/ne: 
Thus can we feast and entertaine your grace. 
dward. Tis cheere, lord Zacie, for an Emperour, 
If he respect the person and the place: io85 
Corne, let vs in; for I will all this night 
Ride post vntill I corne to dacons cell. 


(SCFn II. Al Oafod.) 
Enler Henrie, Emperour, (Saxony), Castile, Ellinor, 
Vandermast, Bungay. 

tm_perour. Trust me, Plantagenet, these O«ford schooles 
Are richly seated neere the riuer side: 
The mountaines full of fat and fallow deere, o9 o 
The batling pastures laid with kine and flocks, 
The towne gorgeous with high built colledges, 
And schollers seemely in their graue attire, 
Learned in searching principles of art. 
What is thy iudgement, Zaquis Vandermast? o95 
Vandermasl. That lordly are the buildings of the towne, 
Spatious the romes and full of pleasant walkes: 
But for the doctors, how that they be learned, 
It may be meanly, for ought I tan heere. 
ungay. I tell thee, Germane, ttasurge holds none such, l,oo 
None red so deepe as OxeoEord containes. 
There are within out accademicke state 
Men that may lecture it in Germanie 
To all the doctors of your 13eI.gicke schools. 
Ifenrie. Stand to him, 13ungay, charme this Vandermast, 1o5 

lOTit Vandemasler Q3 1091 batfling Q2 3 
1095]aqucs Q2 3 1100 I£asluge hold Q3 
110] Academicke Q: academicke Q3 

1094 the principles Qa 
1101 read Q2 3 

And I will vse thee as a royall king. 
Vandermast.Wherein darest thou dispute with me? 
Bungay. In what a Doctor and a Frier tan. 
Vandermast. Before rich uro2es worthies put thou forth 
The doubtfull question vnto lv«dermast, i iio 
t?ungay. Let it be this, whether the spirites of piromancie or 
Geolnancie, be most predolninant in magick. 
Vander. I say, of Piromancie. 
t?ungay. And I, of Geomancie. 
l'ander. The cabbalists that wright of magicke spels, 
As Ifermes, Ielchie, and ffithagoras, 
Affirme that, mongst the quadruplicitie 
Of elementall essence, Terra is but thought 
To be a punctum squared to the rest: 
And that the compasse of ascending eliments xio 
Exceed in bignesse as they doe in height 
Iudging the concaue .circle of the sonne 
To hold the test in his circomference. 
If then, as Z-Zermes sales, the tire be greatst, 
Purest, and onely giueth shapes to spirites, 
Then must these Demones that haunt that place 
Be euery way superiour to the rest. 
]?ungay. I reason not of elementall shapes, 
Nor tell I of the concaue lattitudes, 
Noting their essence nor their qualifie, xio 
But of the spirites that Piromancie calles, 
And of the vigour of the Geomanticke fiends. 
I tell thee, Germane, magicke haunts the grounds, 
And those strange necromantick spels, 
That worke such shewes and wondering in the world, 
Are acted by those Geomanticke spirites 
That Z-Zermes calleth çerrae filii. 
The fierie spirits are but transparant shades, 
That lightly passe as Heralts to beare newes; 
But earthly fiends, closd in the lowest deepe, lI40 

1112 Magicke ? 
1120 elements Q2 
1126 hunt Q3 
1133 hants Q 3 
1136 sprites Q2 
ll:t0 cloz'd Q2 3 


Q2 3 1115 write Q2 3 
3 1122 sunne Q2 3 
1129 latitudes Q2 3 
grouad Dyce and IVard 
1138 transparent Q2 3 


1116 Pythagoras Qa 3 
1123 circumference Q2 3 
1132 Geomaticke Q3 
11 Negromanticke Qa 3 
119 tIeralds Q2 3 



Disseuer mountaines, if they be but chargd, 
Being more grose and massie in their power. 
Vander. Rather these earthly geomantike spirits 
Are dull, and like the place where they remaine: 
For when proud Zucipher fell from the heauens, ii45 
The spirites and angels that did sin with him 
Retaind their locall essence, as their faults, 
All subiect vnder Zums Continent: 
They which offended lesse bang in the tire, 
And second faults did rest within the aire; I5o 
But Zucifer and his proud hearted fiends 
Were throwne into the center of the Earth, 
Hauing lesse vnderstanding than the rest, 
As hauing greater sinne, and lesser grace. 
Therefore such grosse and earthly spirits doe serue 
For Iuglers, Witches, and vild Sorcerers 
Whereas the Piromanticke Genii 
Are mightie, swift, and of farre reaching power. 
But graunt that Geomancie bath most force 
tugay, to please these mightie po.tentates, 6o 
Prooue by some instance what thy art can doe. 
.l?ungay. I will. 
mper. Now, English Z-Zary, here begins the gaine 
We shall sec sport betweene these learned men. 
VandermasL What wilt thou doe ? 65 
]?u«g. Shew thee the tree, leaud with refined gold, 
Whereon the fearefull dragon held his seate, 
That watcht the garden cald Hesperides, 
Subdued and wonne by conquering lercules. 
Vandermast. Well done.   70 
Heere t3ungay co,«htres a,¢d lhe lree ai@eares with lhe draffon shoolinff 
Z-Zenrie. lVhat say you, royalt lordings, to my frier ? 
Hath he hOt donc a point of cunning skill? 
Vander. Ech scholter in the Nicromanticke spels 
Can doe as much as ]?ungay hath performd. 
13ut as Alcmenas basterd ras'd this tree, 
1141 chargd] char'd Q2 3 1145 Lucifer Q 3 1148 subjects Q 3 
1149 hung Z)j,ce atd IVard 1157 Geniri Q 1158 of] a Q3 
1164 larned Q3 1170 19yce ad lVardplace after lhe S. 19. llTg Lord- 
lings Qe 3 11ï5 Negromanticke Qz 3 1177 Alcmers Q3 

So will I raise him vp as when he liued, 
And cause him pull the Dragon from his seate, 
And teare the branches peecemeale from the roote. 8o 
Hercules, _Prodie ; _Prodi Z-lercules ! 
Hercules afifieares in his Lions Sbt. 
Hercules. Quis me 
VandermasL fortes bastard sonne, thou libian erculcs, 
Pull off the sprigs from off the Hesperian tree, 
As once thou didst to win the golden fruit. 
1-teere he beffins lo breake lhe branc_hes. 
l'ander. Now, l?ungay, if thou canst by magicke charme 
The fiend, appearing like great ercules, 
From pulling downe the branches of the tree, ,,9 o 
Then art thou worthy tobe counted learned. 
l?ungay. I cannot. 
Vander. Cease, ercules, vntill I giue thee charge. 
Mightie commander of this English Ile, 
2r]enr[e, corne from the stout Plantagenets, 95 
l?ungay is learned enough tobe a Frier. 
But to compare with faquis l/'atarermast, 
Oxford and Cambridge nmst go seeke their celles, 
To find a man to match him in his art. 
I haue giuen non-2glus to the 1)adz¢ans, zoo 
TO them of Sien, .Flore»ce, and Bologna, 
_eimes, Zouabt and faire lolerdam, 
'ranckford, ZulrechI and Orleance : 
And now must Z-Zenrie, if he do me right, 
Crowne me with lawrell as they all haue done. 
1?nier Bacon. 
Bacon. All haile to this roiall companie, 
That sit to heare and sec this strange dispute: 
Bungay, how standest thou as a man amazd ? 
What, hath the Gerrnane acted more than thou? 
Uandermast. What art thou that questions thus? 
1181 Prodie, Prodi QI 
hcimes Q3 l'oterdam Q2 3 
Vard after leay Orlance Q3 
and IVard 

1201 Belogna QI 1202 Rhei»zs Q2: 
12o3 Lutrech] Utrecht lPyce : Lutetia 
10 questionst Q2 3 : question'st 

Bawn. Men call me Bawn. 
Iander. Lordly thou lookest, as if that thou wert learned ; 
Thy countenance, as if science held her seate 
Betweene the circled arches of thy browes. 
/are»cm'e. Now, Monarcks, hath the Germain found his match. 
Emperour. Bestirre thee, [aquis, take not now the foile, 
Least thou doest loose what foretime thou didst gaine. 
17andermast. Bacon, wilt thou dispute? 
fl]acon. Noe, vnlesse he were more learned than ITandermasl. 
For yet, tell me, what hast thou done? 
Handermast. Raisd [-[erades to ruinate that tree, 
That Bongay mounted by his magick spels. 
Bacon. Set ttercules to worke. 
Handermast. Now, drtercules, I charge thee to thy taske; 
Pull off the golden branches from the roote. 
I-[ercules. I dare not; seest thou hOt great Bacon heere, 
Whose frowne doth act more than thy magicke can ? 
Yandermast. By all the thrones and dominations, 
Vertues, powers and mightie Herarchies, 
I charge thee to obey to Iandermasl. I3o 
drtercules. Bacon, that bridles headstrong Belce2#hon , 
And rules Asmenot, guider of the North, 
Bindes me from yeelding vnto Iandermast. 
//én. How now, Iandermast! haue you met with your 
match ? 
Vandermast. Neuer belote wast knowne to N,ndermast 
That men held deuils in such obedient awe, 
tacon doth more than art, or els I faile. 
,nerour. Why, Iandermast, art then ouercolne? 
Bacon, dispute with him, and trie his skill. 
t3acon. I corne not, Monarckes, for to hold dispute 4o 
With such a nouice as is 17andermast; 
I corne to haue your royalties to dine 
With Frier acon heere in Brazennose ; 
And, for this Germane troubles but the place, 
And holds this audience with a long suspence, 
Ile send him to his Accademie hence. 

1217 Lest... lose Q2 3 1'2.22 Bongay QI 1229 Hierarchies Q3 
1231 Belzep]wn Q2 : belzephon Q3 1282 Asmenothe Q3 1240» 12ifi 
came Z)yce and Ward 


Thou tfercules, whom Vandermasl did raise, 
Transport the Germane vnto fifas2urge straight, 
That he may learne by trauaile, gainst the spring, 
More secret doomes and Aphorismes of art. 
Vanish the Tree, and thou away with him! 


Exil lhe Sîbiril wilh Vandermast and lhe Tree. 
Enerour. Why, Baron, whether doest thou send him ? 
J3acon. To fZasurge: there your highnesse at returne 
Shall finde the Germane in his studie safe. 
1-1enrie. tacon, thou hast honoured England with thy skill, 
And ruade faire Oxford famous by thine art: 
I will be English Jenrie to thy selfe. 
But tell me, shall we dine with thee to day? 
Bacon. With me, my Lord; and while I fit my cheere, 
See where Prince Fdze,ard cornes to welcome you, 
Gratious as the lnorning starre of heauen. 


tnler Edward, Lacie, Warren, Ermsbie. 
E»erour. Is this Prince Edward, _enries royall sonne, 
How martiall is the figure of his face, 
Yet louely and beset with Amorets. 
]enrie..lVed, where hast thou been? a65 
Edzvard. At fi'ramingham, my Lord, to trie your buckes, 
If they could scape the teisers or the toile: 
But hearing of these lordly Potentates 
Landed, and prograst vp to Oxford towne, 
I posted to giue entertaine to them: 27o 
Chiefe to the Almaine Monarke, next to hiln, 
And ioynt with him, Caslile and Saxonie 
Are welcolne as they may be to the English Court. 
Thus for the men: but see, Venus appeares, 
Or one that ouermatcheth Venus in her shape. 
Sweete Yllinor, beauties high swelling pride, 
Rich natures glorie, and her wealth at once: 
Faire of all faires, welcolne to Albion, 
Welcome to me, and welcome to thine owne, 

1249 trauell Q2 3 spring Z)yce and lVard: springs Qq 1252 vhither 
Q2 3 1261 as is Vard 1267 they teisers QI 1269 progxest Q2 $ 
127, 1275 lénis Q$ 1276 beauty Q3 

If that thou dainst the welcome from my selfe. 128o 
El[inor. Martiall Plantagenet, ]]enries high minded sonne, 
The marke that llinor did count her aime, 
I likte thee fore I saw thee: now I loue, 
And so as in so short a time I may: 
Yet so as time shall neuer breake that so: 1285 
And therefore so accept of Ellinor. 
Castile. Feare not, my Lord, this couple will agree, 
If loue may creepe into their wanton eyes: 
And therefore, .tdward, I accept thee heere, 
Without suspence, as my adopted sonne. 129o 
Zfenrie. Let me that ioy in these consorting greets, 
And glorie in these honors donc to _Nêd, 
Yeeld thankes for all these fauours to my sonne, 
And rest a truc Plantagenet to all. 
Enter Miles wil/z a clolh and trenchers and sall. 
AHles. Saluete omnes reges, that gouerne your Greges, in 1295 
Saxonie and Spaine, in ngland, and in Almaine: for 
all this frolicke table must I couer the table, 
with trenchers, salt and cloth, and then looke for 
your broth. 
mperour. What pleasant fellow is this ? 3oo 
Zfenrie. Tis, my lord, doctor ?acons poore scholler. 
3[iles. iXly maister hath made me se-er of these great 
lords, and God knowes I ana as seruiceable at 
a table as a sow is vnder an apple tree : tis 
no matter, their cheere shall hot be great, and 18o5 
therefore what skils where the salt stand, before or 
behinde ? 
Castile. These schollers knowes more skill in actiomes, 
How to vse quips and sleights of Sophistrie, 
Than for to couer courtly for a king. 31o 
tïnter Miles with a messe of çottage aml broth, and aller hDz ]3acon. 
A[iles. Spill, sir? why, doe you thinke I neuer carried 
twopeny chop before in my life? by your leaue, ohile 
1281 Heneris Q3 128g lik't Q2 3 1284 a o»z. Q3 1293 these] 
those Q3 1296 and in] in on. (23 1297 thee QI 1299 your] 
yont 03 1308 knowes] know Oz 3, Z?j,ce, lI'ard Axiomes Q2 : 
Axomies Q3 1312 Noble Q3 

decus, for here cornes doctor t?acons ecus, being in his 
full age, to carrie a messe of pottage. 
l?acon. Lordings, admire not if your cheere be this, x35 
For we must keepe our Accademicke fare; 
No riot where Philosophie doth raine: 
And therefore, ]-Zenrie, place these Potentates, 
And bid them fall vnto their frugall cates. 
»erour. Presumptuous Frier! what, scoffst thou at a king? 7320 
What, doest thou taunt vs with thy pesants fare, 
And giue vs cates fit for countrey swaines? 
-fe«rie, proceeds this lest of thy consent, 
To twit vs with such a pittance of such price, 
Tell me, and _f'redericke 'ill not greeue the long. 
]tenrie. By ]tenries honour, and the royall faith 
The English :Monarcke beareth to his friend, 
I knew hot of the friers feeble rare, 
Nor ana I pleasd he entertaines you thus. 
t?acon. Content thee, Fredericke, for I shewd the cates 33o 
To let thee see how schollers vse to feede, 
How little meate refines our English wits; 
AIiles, take away, and let it be thy dinner. 
][iles. :Marry, Sir, I wil. This day shal be a festiual day 
with me, 335 
For I shall exceed in the highest degree. 
tLvil Miles. 
37acon. I tell thee, Monarch, all the Germane Peeres 
Could hot aflbord thy entertainment such, 
So royall and so full of Maiestie, 
As t?acon will present to Fredericke. r4o 
The Basest waiter that attends thy cups 
Shall be in honours greater than thy selle 
And for thy cates rich .41éxandria drugges, 
Fetcht by Carueils from AeKls richest straights, 
Found in the wealthy strond of l.-ica, 345 
Shall royallize the table of my King; 
Wines ficher than thEgyptian courtisan 

1315 Lordlings Q2 3 1317 raigne Q2 3 
132t such a pittance_] such oto. Z)yce : a oto. lI'ard 
cates Q2 : thee cats Q3 1889 so full] so ont. Q3 
18î th' Egyptian I)ycc : the Gyptian Q : Gyprian Q 3 

1321 peazants Q2 3 
1830 the cates] thee 
1343 thy] the Q3 


Quaft to Muguslus kingly countermatch, 
Shal be carrowst in English Iafe,ries feasts: 
Candie shall yeeld the richest of her canes ; 
_Psia, downe ber olga by Canows, 
Send down the secrets of ber spicerie; 
The Africke Dates, mirabiles of Sfiabte, 
Conserues, and Suckets from 27berias, 
Cates from tdea, choiser than the lampe 
That fiered A'ome with sparkes of gluttonie, 
Shall bewtifie the board for t;redericke: 
And therefore grudge hot ata friers feast. 


(SCENE III. Al FressDtgfleld.) 
tïnler l,o ,ffcttlcmot» Lambert amt Serlby witlt l/te Kee]ber. 
Z«mb«rL Corne, frolicke kecpcr of our lieges gaine, 
Whose table spred bath eucr venison 36o 
And Iacks of wines to wclcome passengers, 
Know I ara in loue with iolly A[«rgret, 
That ouer-shines out damsels, as the Moone 
1)arkneth the brightest sparkles of the night. 
In Zaafidd heere my land and liuing lies: 
Ile make thy daughter ioynter of it all, 
So thou consent to giue her to my wife; 
And I can spend fiue hundreth markes a yeare. 
Serlbie. I ara the lanslord, keeper, of thy holds, 
By coppie ail thy liuing lies in me; 3î o 
JSavfeht did neuer see me raise my due. 
I will infeofe faire Ahtrgr«l in all, 
So she will take her to a lustie squire. 
_,rçee/er. Now, courteous gentls, if the Keepers girle 
Hath pleased the liking fancie of you both, 1375 
And with ber beutie hath subdued your thoughts, 
Tis doubtfull to decide the question. 
It ioyes me that such men of great esteeme 
Should lay their liking on this base estate, 
And that her state should grow so fortunate, 
To be a wife to meaner men than you. 
1849 feast Q3, 29.,ce, ll.'ard 150 Candy Q2 3 
133 mira'bolans 1).,ce and lVard 1369 Lands-lord Q2 3 

1851 volga Qq 
1372 infeoffe 


But sith such squires will stoop to keepers fee, 
I will, to auoid displeasure of you both, 
Call A[argr«t forth, and she shall make her choise. 


ZambcrL Content, Keeper; send her vnto vs. 
Vhy, Serls@, is thy wife so lately dead, 
Are all thy loues so lightly passed ouer, 
As thou canst wed before the yeare be out ? 
Serlsby. I liue hot, Zambcrl, to content the dead, 
Nor was I wedded but for life to her: ,390 
The graue ends and begins a maried state. 
Enl«r Margret. 
ZamberL _Ptgie, the louelie flower of all townes, 
S«ffolks faire t&ll«n, and rich nglands star, 
Whose beautie, tempered with ber huswifrie, 
Maks .ttglattd talkc of mcrry Frisingfl«ld! '395 
Scrls@. I cannot trickc it vp with poesies, 
Nor paint my passions with comparisons, 
Nor tell a tale of _Phebus and his loues: 
But this beleue me: Zaxflcld here is naine, 
Of auncient rent seuen hundred pounds a yeare ; 14oo 
And if thou canst but loue a countrie squire, 
I will infeoffe thee, AAtrgrct, in all: 
I can hot flatter; trie lrte, if thou please. 
3.far. Braue neighbouring squires, the stay of &ffolks clime, 
A keepers daughter is too base in gree 4o5 
To match with men accoumpted of such worth: 
But might I not displease, I would reply. 
Zam&rL Say, t'egoEv; nought shall make vs discontent. 
,Uarg. Then, gentils, note that loue hath little stay, 
Nor can the flames that Uenus sets on tire I4,o 
Be kindled but by fancies motion. 
Then pardon, gentils, if a maids reply 
Be doubtful, while I haue debated with my selfe, 
Who, or of whome, loue shall constmine me like. 
Serlsbie. Let it be me; and trust me, Ahrgret, "- i41 
The meads inuironed with the siluer streames, 
1383 t' auoyd Qa : t auoide Q3 1391 graues QI 1392 "ets Q2 
1396 poisies Q3 1398 hoebus Q2 3 1405 daughters QI 3 
1409 gentiles Qa 3 1410 set Q3 



5 8 
Whose Batling pastures fatneth all my flockes, 
Yelding forth fleeces stapled with such woole, 
As Ze»ster cannot yelde more finer stuffe; 
And fortie kine with faire and burnisht heads, 42o 
With strouting duggs that paggle to the ground, 
Shall serue thy dary, if thou wed with me. 
Zam3ert. Let passe the countrie wealth, as flocks & kine, 
And lands that waue with Ceres golden sheues, 
Filling my barnes with plentie of the fieldes: 1425 
But, _Peggie, if thou wed thy selfe to me, 
Thou shalt haue garments of Imbrodred silke, 
Lawnes and rich networks for thy head attyre: 
Costlie shal be thy rare abiliments, 
If thou wilt be but Zamberts louing wife. 143o 
2l[argret. Cntent you, gentles, you haue profered faire, 
And more than fits a countrie Maids degree: 
But giue mê leaue to counsaile me a time, 
For rancie bloomes not at the first assault ; 
Giue me but ten dayes respite, and I will replye i435 
Which or to whom my selle affectionats. 
Serlsby. Zamberœ, I tell thee thou art ilnportunate; 
Such beautie fits not such a base esquire. 
It is for Serlsv to haue lrgret. 
Zamb. Thinkst thou with wealth to ouer reach inc? 44 o 
5erlsby, I scorne to brooke thy country braues: 
I date thee, Coward, to lnaintaine this vrong, 
At dint of rapier, single in the field. 
S«rlsby. Ile aunswere, Zamb«r[, what I haue auoucht. 
«lhrgret, farewel, another time shall serue. 145 
xil Serlsby. 
.Lambert. Ile follow. 
_Peau, te, farewell to thy selfe; 
Listen how well ile answer for thy loue. 
E.tqt Lambert. 
.llarg«ret. How Fortune tempers lucky happes with frowns, 
And wrongs me with the sweets of my delight! 
Loue is lny blisse, and loue is now my baie. i45o 
Shall I be lellen in my forward fates, 
1417 battling Q2 3 fatten Q2 3 1t21 puggle Q2 3 
1t26 peggie QI 1428 net-worke (23 
1438 a base oto. Q3 1tt7 List Q3 

14:25 filling QI 
1429 faire habilliments Q2 3 
1451 froward Dyce and IVard 

As I ana ttellen in my matchless hue» 
And set rich Suffolke with my face afire ? 
If louely Zacie were but with his 
The cloudie darckenesse of his bitter frowne 455 
Would check the pride of these aspiring squires. 
13clore the terme of ten dayes be expired, 
When as they looke for answere of their loues, 
My Lord will corne to merry trresingfleld, 
And end their fancies, and their follies both; 146o 
Til when, .[éggie, be blith and of good cheere ! 
tFnter a Post witlt a letler and a baff of ffold. 
_Post. Fair louely dalnsell, which way leads this path ? 
How might I post me vnto _resingfleld? 
Which footpath leadeth to the keepers lodge? 
[argeret. Your way is ready, and this path is right ; 1465 
iXIy selfe doe dwell hereby in f'resipzgfleld-: 
And if the keeper be the man you seeke, 
I ana his daughter: may I know the cause ? 
_Post. Louely, and once beloued of my lord, 
No meruaile if his eye was lodgd so low, I4îO 
When brighter bewtie is not in the heauens. 
The Zincolne earle hath sent you letters here, 
And, with them, iust an hundred pounds in gold. 
Sweete, bonny wench, read theln, and make reply. 
Alargret. The scrowles that Zoue sent Z)anae, 1475 
Wrapt in rich closures of fine burnisht gold, 
Were not more welcome than these lines to me. 
Tell me, whilst that I doe vnrip the seales, 
Liues Zacie well, how fares lny louely Lord? 
_Post. Well, if that wealth may make men to liue well. 4So 
The le/let, ami Margret reads il. 
The bloomes of the Almond tree grow in a night, and vanish 
in a morne ; the flics ]faemerce (faire _Peggie) take life with 
the Sun, and die with the dew; fancie that slippeth in 
with a gase, goeth out with a winke ; and too timely loues 
1454 his] the Q3 1456 these] those IUard 1457 terme] time Q3 
1461 blithe Q2 3 S.D. toast Q2 3 1463 me oto. Qa 1466 hereby] 
hard by Q3 1471 brighter] bright Q3 1476 Wrapt] Wrap Q3 
1482 Haemerae Q2 3 : Hemere 21 1t84 gaze Q2 3 

60 [ACT [III 
haue euer the shortest ]ength. I write this as thy grefe, and ,485 
my folly, who ai _resizgjTeld Ioud that which rime hath 
taught me to be but meane dainties : eyes are dissemb]ers, 
and fancie is but queasie ; therefore know, rgrel, I haue 
chosen a Spanish Ladie tobe my wife, cheefe waighting 
woman to the Princesse 17bwzr; a Lady faire, and no ,49 ° 
fesse faire than thy selle, honorable and wealthy. In that 
I forsake thee I leaue thee to thine own liking ; and for thy 
dowrie I haue sent thee an hundred pounds ; and euer 
assure thee of my fauour, which sha]I auaile thee and thine 
much. FareweII. 
Not thine, nor his owne, 7495 
dward Zacie. 
Fond Atae, doomer of bad boading fates, 
That wrappes proud Fortune in thy snaky locks, 
Didst thou inchaunt my byrth-day with such stars 
As lightned mischeefe from their infancie? 5oo 
If heauens had vowed, if stars had ruade decree, 
To shew on me their froward influence, 
If Zade had but lord, heauens, hell, and all 
Could not haue wrongd the patience of my minde. 
_Post. It grieues me, damsell; but the Earle is forst 15o5 
To loue the Lady by the Kings commaund. 
3lrgret. The vealth combinde vithin the English shelues, 
uro/es commaunder, nor the English King, 
Should not haue moude the loue of _PoEgie from her Lord. 
_Post. What answere shall I returne to my Lord? 
2l[argret. First, for thou camst from Zacie whom I loud 
Ah, giue me leÇue to sigh at euery thought ! 
Take thou, my freind, the hundred pound he sent, 
For argrets resolution craues no dower. 
The world shal be to her as vanitie, 
Wealth, trash; loue, hate ; pleasure, dispaire : 
For I will straight to stately 
And in the abby there be shorne a Nun, 
And yeld my loues and libertie to God. 
Fellow, I giue thee this, not for the newes, 


1485 wright Q3 1488 quasie (3 1489 chose (3 1492 forsooke (3 
1496 boading] boasting (2 3 1501 had vowed] bath vowed (3 1502 on] 
in Q2 3 1508 Commander Q2 3 1512 euery] very .Dyce azd IVard 


For those be hatefull vnto A[argret, 
But for thart Zades man, once ll[argrels loue. 
29osl. What I haue heard, what passions I haue seene, 
Ile make report of them vnto the Earle. 

.3[argret. Say that she ioyes his fancies be at rest, 
And praies that his misfortune may be hers. 


/Lrit Post. 

<SCENE I. .Friar lacon's Cell.) 
tnler Frier Bacon drawing tke courtaines, with a while sticke, a 
booke in his hand, and a km«lbe lighted bi' ]riiez, and the braset head 
and Miles, ewith weabons bi' him. 
Bacon. _/l[iles, where are you ? I53o 
2hles. Here, sir. 
Bacon. How chaunce you tarry so long ? 
3Iiles. Thinke you that the watching of the brazen head 
craues no furniture ? I warrant you, sir, I haue so armed my 
selfe, that, if all your deuill» corne, I will not feare them x535 
an inch. 
Bacon. :[iles, thou knowest that I haue diued into hell, 
And sought the darkest pallaces of fiendes; 
That with my magick spels great telcehon 
Hath left his lodge and kneeled at my cell; I54o 
The rafters of the earth rent from the poles, 
And three-formd Zuna hid her siluer looks, 
Trembling vpon her concaue contenent, 
When tacon red vpon his lIagick booke. 
With seuen yeares tossing nigromanticke charmes, 1545 
Poring vpon darke .[-fecats principles, 
I haue framd out a monstrous head of brasse, 
That, by the inchaunting forces of the deuil, 
Shall tell out strange and vncoth Aphorismes, 
And girt faire .England with a wall of brasse. I55o 
t?ungay and I haue watcht these three score dayes, 
And now our vitall Spirites craue some rest. 

1526 misfortunes Q-" 3 
1537 knowst Q2 3 
1543 continent Q 3 

S.D. whith weapons Q1 
1538 of the Fiends Q3 
15t5 With] When Q3 

1535 doe corne Q2 3 
1539 elze2hon Q*. $ 
1548 th' inchanting Q2 $ 


If ,4Vos liud and had his hundred eyes, 
They could not ouerwatch 29hobelers night. 
Now, llIiles, in thee rests Frier lacons weale: I555 
The honour and renowne of all his life 
Hangs in the watching of this brazen-head ; 
Therefore I charge thee by the immortall God 
That holds the soules of men within his fist, 
This night thou watch, for ere the morning star I56o 
Sends out his glorious glister on the north, 
The head will speake: thC, Ailles, vpon thy lire, 
Wake me; for then by Magiek art Ile worke, 
To end lny seuen yeares taske with excellence. 
If that a winke but shut thy watchfull eye, I565 
Then farewell .Bacons glory and his faine! 
Draw closse the eourtaines, Ahles: now for thy lire, 
Be watehfull and-- 

ttere he falleth asleebe. 
lIiles. So; I thought you would talke your selfe asleepe anon, 
and tis no meruaile, for lungay on the dayes, and he on 50 
the nights, haue watcht iust these ten and fifty dayes : now 
this is the night, and ris my taske, and no more. Now, 
Iesus blesse me, what a goodly head it is, and a nose! 
you talke of os «uz'em gloroEcar, but heres a nose that 
I warrant may be cald nos aulem 2bolehre for the people Sî5 
of the parish. Well, I ana furnished with weapons: now, 
sir, I will set me downe by a post, and make it as good 
as a wateh-man to wake me, if I ehaunce to slumber. 
I thought, goodman head, I would call you out of your 
memenlo... Passion a God, I haue almost broke my i58o 
pare! vp, l[iles, to your taske, take your browne bill in 
your hand l heeres some of your maisters hobgobtins 
lVilh lhis a greal noise. 
irhe Head sibeakes. 
I-[ead. Time is. 

Time is ! why, maister ]3razenhead, haue you such a 585 

1565 awinke QI 2 1567 Close the curtaines Q2 3 S. 13. falls Q3 
1575 popelares Q2 3 1579 I thought, that Q3 1580 Zac««a oflwo 
or three words after memento iz Q ; ion and your add. Q1 i eetarg. : mori 
and your-- sztgg.J. C. StMth 


capitall nose, and answer you with sillables, 'Time is ?' is 
this all my maisters cunning, to spend seuen yeares studie 
about ' Time is'? Well sir, it may be we shall haue some 
better orations of it anon : well Ile watch you as narrowly 
as euer you were watcht, and Ile play with you as the i59 o 
Nightingale with the Slowworme, Ile set a pricke against 
my brest : now rest there, liles ;--Lord haue mercy vpon 
me, I haue almost kild my selfe: vp, .Billes, list how they 
Head. Time was. 1595 
llh'les. Well, Frier Bacon, you spent your seuen yeares studie 
well that can lnake your Head speake but two wordes at 
once. ' Time was ' : ye-a, marie, time was when my maister 
was a wise man, but that was before he began to make the 
Brasen-head; you shall lie while your arce ake and your t6oo 
Head speake no better : well I will watch and walke vp and 
downe, and be a Perepatetian and a Philosopher of Aristolles 
stampe. What, a freshe noise ? Take thy pistols in hand, 
tteere lhe Head sîbeakes and a lihminff flashelh forlh, and a hand 
a#beares lhal breakelh down ¢he Head ïvillt a hammer. 
Head. Time is past. 
2l[iles. Maister, maister, vp ! hels broken loose; your Head 16o5 
speakes, and theres such a thunder and lightning, that 
I warrant all Oaford is vp in armes. Out of your bed, and 
take a browne bill in your hand; the latter day is corne. 
gacon, z]liles; I come, oh, passing warily watcht! 
.Bacon will make thee next himselfe in loue. i61o 
When spake the Head ? 
Iiles. When spake the Head ! did hOt you say that hec should 
tell strange principles of Philosophie ? Why, sir, it speaks 
but two wordes at a time. 
.Bacon. Why, villaine, hath it spoken oft? 1615 
.Mlles. Off ! I, marie, bath it ! thrice : but in ail those three 
rimes it hath vttered but seuen wordes. 
J3acon. As how ? 
Iiles. Marrie, sir, the first rime he said, ' Time is,' as if 
1589 better oto. Q2 3 1590 were] was Q3 1596 you haue spent Q3, 
19yce, IVard 1602 Peripatetian Q2 3 1606 thundring Q3 
1613 spoke Q3 

'abius «»etator should haue pronounst a sentence; 
said 'Time was'; and the third time with thunder and 
lightning, as in great choller, he said ' Time is past.' 
27aw. Tis past indeed. A, villaine, time is past, 
My lire, my lame, my glorie, all are past: 
Zacon, the turrets of thy hope are ruind downe, I625 
Thy seuen yeares studie lieth in the dust, 
Thy Brazen-head lies broken through a slaue 
That watcht, and would not when the Head did will. 
What said the Head first? 
'|[iles. Euen, sir, 'Time is.' I63o 
3acon. Villaine, if thou hadst cald to t]acon then, 
If thou hadst watcht, and wakte the sleepie frier, 
The Brazen-head had vttered Aphorismes, 
And tngland had been circled round with brasse: 
But proud Asmenol/z ruler of the North, 1635 
And ])emogorgon maister of the fates, 
Grudge that a mortall man should worke so much. 
Hell trembled at my deepe commanding spels, 
Fiendes frownd to see a man their ouermatch ; 
.t7acon might bost more than a lnan might boast: 164o 
But now the braues of tacon bath an end, 
uroles conceit of Zacon bath an end, 
His seuen yeares practise sorteth to ill end: 
And, villaine, sith my glorie bath an end, 
I will appoint thee fatall to some end. I645 
Villaine, auoid! get thee from 2?acons sight! 
Vagrant, go rome and range about the world, 
And perish as a vagabond on earth. 
ilHles. Why, then, sir, you forbid me your seruice ? 
2?acon. My seruice, villaine, with a fatall curse, I65o 
That direfull plagues and mischiefe fall on thee. 
AZiles. Tis no matter, I ara against you with the old prouerb, 
' The more the fox is curst the better he rares' : God be with 
you, sir ; Ile take but a booke in my hand, a wide sleeued 

he 1620 

1620 Commentator Q2 3 sentanee Q3 [the second time crdd. Zgyce and 
IVard 1621 thundring Q3 1625 turrets of thy] terrours of my Q3 
lô30 sir oto. Q2 3 1635 Asmenotk 29yce : AstmerotA Qq (cf. 1232 ) 
1636 Detegorgon Qq maister] ruler lng. _Parnass. 1637 worke] doe Q2 
1641 hath] haue Q3 16t5 to some fatal end Z)yce and II/'ard 1647 range] 
rage Q3 

gowne on my backe, and a crowned cap on my head, and sec i6s 
if I can want promotion. 
17awn. Some fiend or ghost haunt on thy wearie steps, 
Vntill they doe transport thee quicke to hell: 
For ]Tacon shall haue neuer merrie day, 
To loose the faine and honour of his Head. 

(SCENF-, II. At Court.> 
Enter Emperour, (Saxony), Castile, Henrie, Ellinor, Edward, Lacie, 
Ȣer. Now, louely Prince, the prime of Al3[ons wealth, 
How fares the ladie llinor and you ? 
What, haue you courted and found Castile fit 
To answer ngland in equiuolence ? 
Wilt be a match twixt bonny _lVell and thee? i665 
'dw. Should _Paris enter in the Courts of Greece, 
And not lie fettered in faire I-fellens lookes 
Or _Phoebus scape those piercing amorits 
That Daphne glaunsed at his deitie? 
Can dward, then, sit by a rame and freeze, 
Whose heat puts ffellen and faire Z)aphne downe? 
Now, Monarcks, aske the ladie if we grec. 
lien. What, madam, hath my son found grace or no ? 
Ellinor. Seeing, my lord, his louely counterfeit, 
And hearing how his minde and shape agreed, 1675 
I corne not, troopt with all this warlike traine, 
Doubting of loue, but so effectionat 
As dzvard hath in ngland what he wonne in Saine. 
Castile. A match, my lord; these wantons needes must loue : 
Men must haue wiues, and women will be wed; 168o 
Lets hast the day to honour vp the rites. 
aîbhe. Sirha ffarry, shall JVed marry Nll? 
tfenry. I, Jaîbhe, how then ? 
aphe. Marrie, ffarrie, follow my counsaile: send for frier 
17acon to marrie them, for heele so conjure him and ber i685 
with his Nigromancie, that they shall loue togither like 
pigge and lambe whilest they liue. 
1660 lose Q2 3 1661 prime l?yce: prince Q 166o., rare l?yce and IVard 
1676 came Z)yce and IVard 1677 affectionate Q2 3 1680 will] must Q3 
1681 haste Q2 


66 THE 
Castile. But hearst thou, Rahe, art thou content to haue 
Ellinor to thy ladie ? 
lahe. I, so she will promise me two things. 69o 
Castile. Whats that, Raçhe? 
Raphe. That shee will neuer scold with 2Ved nor fight with 
me. Sirha ]Zarry, I haue put her downe with a thing 
t[enry. Whats that, 2he ? x695 
Rhe. Why, Itarrie, didst thou euer see that a woman could 
both hold her tongue and her handes? No! but when 
egge-pies growes on apple-trees, then will thy gray mare 
prooue a bag-piper. 
Emperour. What saies the lord of Castile and the Earle of 
ZincoIne, that they are in such earnest and secret talke ? 
Castile. I stand, my lord, amazed at his talke, 
How he discourseth of the constancie 
Of one surnam'd, for beauties excellence, 
The faire maid of merrie tresingfleld. 
IIenrie. Tis true, my Lord, ris wondrous for to heare ; 
Her beautie passing 3,rces parramour, 
Her virgins right as rich as Vestas was. 
Zacie and _/Ved hath told me Miracles. 
Caslile. What saies lord Zacie? shall she be his wife? 
Zacie. Or els lord Zacie is vnfit to liue. 
May it please your highnesse giue me leaue to post 
To t;resingfidd, Ile fetch the bonny girle, 
And prooue in true apparance at the court 
What I haue vouched often with my tongue. 7 
I[enrie. Zacie, go to the quirie of my stable, 
And take such coursers as shall fit thy turne: 
Hic thee to t;resingfldd, and bring home the lasse, 
And, for her faine flics through the English coast, 
If it may please the ladie Ellinor, 7o 
One day shall match your excellence and her. 
Ellinor. We Castile ladies are not very coy; 
Your highnesse may command a greater boone: 
And glad were I to grace the Zincolne carie 

1698 grow Q3, 29yce, Ward 1700 say Z)yce 
beautious Q3 1705 merrie ont. Q2 $ 
1709 haue Qz, Dyce 

1704 beauties] 
1707 Alarses Qz $ 


With being partner of his marriage day. 
Edzvard. Gramercie, Arell, for I do loue the lord, 
As he thats second to my selfe in loue. 
Rahe. You loue her. Madam Arell, neuer beleeue him you, 
though he sweares he loues you. 
Ellinor. Why, 2aphe ? x73o 
Rahe. Why, his loue is like vnto a tapsters glasse that is 
broken with euery tutch; for he loued the faire maid 
of tresingfleM once out of all hoe. Nay, .,'Ved, neuer 
wincke vpon me; I care not, I. 
t[en. _ahe tels ail ; you shall haue a good secretarie of him. 135 
But, Zacie, haste thee post to ttresingfleM ; 
For ere thou hast fitted all things for ber state, 
The solemne marriage day will be at hand. 
Lac&. I go, my lord. 

Exil Lacie. 


Enerour. How shall we passe this day, my lord ? 
I-[enrie. To horse, my lord; the day is passing faire, 
Weele file the partridge, or go rouse the deere ; 
Follow, my lords ; you shall hOt want for sport. 

(SCENE III. fi'riar Bacon's Cell.) 
Enter frier Bacon vilh frier Bungay fo his cell. 

tungay. What meanes the frier that frolickt it of late, 
[To sit as melancholie in his cell]: x74. 
To sit as melancholie in his cell, 
As if he had neither lost nor wonne to day? 
acon. Ah, ungay, my Brazen-head is spoild, 
My glorie gone, my seuen yeares studie lost: 
The fame of tacon, bruted through the world, 75o 
Shall end and perish with this deepe disgrace. 
Bungay. tacon bath built foundation of his faine 
So surely on the wings of true report, 
With acting strange and vncoth miracles, 

1726 Gramarcy Q3 1727 my selfe] thyself Z)yce and IVard 1728 her ? 
Q2 3, 19yce, H/'ard 1732 broke Q3 1743 my Lord Q3 1745 oto. 
Q 3, Dyce, Ward 1748 Ah, Bungay, ah, IVard after Z)yce spold 
Q : spoil'd Q : spoiled Q3 1752 of Dyce : on Qq 1754 and oto. Q3 


As this cannot infringe what he deserues. 
]¢acon. ]¢ungaA, , sit down, for by prospectiue skill, 
I find this day shall fall out ominous: 
Some deadly act shall tide me ere I sleep: 
But what and wherein little can I gesse. 
ungay. My minde is heauy, what so ere shall hap. 



Enter tevo Schollers, sonnes fo Lambert and Serlby. 
sacon. Whose that knockes ? 
sungay. Two schollers that desires to speake with you. 
sac. Bid thê corne in. Now, my youths, what would you 
haue ? 
 Scholler. Sir, we are Suffolke men and neighbouring friends, 
Our fathers in their countries lustie squires; 765 
Their lands adioyne: in Crackfleld naine doth dwell, 
And his in Zaxfleld. We are colledge mates, 
Sworne brothers as out fathers liues as friendes. 
A¢acon. To what end is all this ? 
2 Schller. Hearing your worship kept within your cell x77o 
A glasse prospectiue, wherein men might see 
What so their thoughts or hearts desire could wish, 
We corne to know how that our fathers fare. 
A¢acon. My glasse is free for euery honest man. 
Sit downe and you shall see ere long, x775 
t-Iow or in what state your friendly fathers liues. 
Meane while tell me your names. 
Lambert. Mine _Lambert. 
2 Scholler. And mine Serlsbie. 
A¢acon. A¢ungay, I smell there will be a tragedie, i78o 
Enfer Lambert and Serlsbie, wt't/t RalHers and daggers. 
Zambert. Serls@, thou hast kept thine houre like a man: 
Th'art worthie of the title of a squire, 
That durst, for proofe of thy affection, 
And for thy mistresse fauour, prize thy bloud. 
Thou knowst what words did passe at Fresingfleld, I î85 
1758 betide Q2 3 1760 Grosarl atd lfard assign go lacon My minde] 
Mine Q3 1761 Who's Q 3 1762 desire Qz 3, ]_)yct, IVard 1768 liue 
Qe, A)j,ce, lFard 1775, 1776 ere long, how r 19yct : ere long, sirs» how Or 
sugg. Dyce 1776 father liues Q : fathers liue Q3, Dj,ce, l/Vard 1781 
houre] honour Q3 1788 approofe Q3 lî$1 blood Qz 3 

Such shamelesse braues as manhood cannot brooke: 
I, for I skorne to beare such piercing taunts, 
Prepare thee, SerlsNe ; one of vs will die. 
Serls3ie. Thou seest I single (meet) thee (in) the field, 
And what I spake, Ile maintaine with my sword: 79 o 
Stand on thy guard, I cannot scold it out. 
And if thou kill me, thinke I haue a sonne, 
That liues in Oxford in the trodgates hall, 
Who will reuenge his fathers bloud with bloud. 
Zamert. And, Serlsbie, I haue there a lusty boy, 795 
That dares at weapon buckle with thy sonne, 
And liues in troadœeates too, as well as thine ; 
But draw thy Rapier, for weele haue a bout. 
tacon. Now, lustie yonkers, looke within the glasse, . 
And tell me if you can discerne your sires. 8oo 
I Schol. Serlsbie, ris hard ; thy father offers wrong, 
To combat with my father in the field. 
2 Schol. Zambert, thou liest, my fathers is the abuse, 
And thou shalt find it, if my father harme. 
tungay. How goes it, sirs? I805 
x Scholler. Our fathers are in colnbat hard by FresinMTeld. 
tacon. Sit still, my friendes, and see the euent. 
Zaml)ert. Why standst thou, Serlsl)ie ? doubtst thou ofthy lire ? 
A renie, man! faire 3[argret craues so much. 
Serlsbie. Then this for her. 8io 
 Scholler. Ah, well thrust ! 
 Scholler. But marke the ward. 
They fight and kill ech other. 
Zambert. Oh, I ara slaine! 
Serlsbie. And I, Lord haue mercie on me! 
x Scholler. My father slaine ! Serl3y, ward that. 8,0 
The two schollers stab on another. 
 Scholler. And so is mine! Zambert, Ile quite thee well. 
tungay. 0 strange strattageln ! 
tacon. See, Frier, where the fathers both lie dead. 
1789 I single thee the field Q¢: corr. 23yce 1790 speak Q$ 
1796 thy] my Q3 1798 about Q 1803 my father is abuse Q$ 
1804 harme] haue harme Q3 : haue harm IVard 1809 veny Q2 : vaine Q3 
so oto. Q3 1815 S. D. laced after i816 by Dyce and Ward on] ech Q$ 
1817 stratagem Q3 1818 both] doth Q 


.Bacon, thy magicke doth effect this massacre: 
This glasse prospectiue worketh manie woes; 
And therefore seeing these braue lustie Brutes, 
These friendly youths, did perish by thine art, 
End all thy magicke and thine art at once. 
The poniard that did end the fatall liues, 
Shall breake the cause efficient of their woes. 
So fade the glasse, and end with it the showes, 
That Nigromancie did infuse the christall with. 
tte breakes the glasse. 
]ung. What means Iearned ]acon thus to breake his glasse ? 
]acon. I tell thee, ]ungay, it repents me sore 
That euer ]acon medled in this art. 
The houres I haue spent in piromanticke spels, 
The fearefull tossing in the latest night 
Of papers full of Nigromanticke charmes, 
Coniuring and adiuring diuels and fiends, 
With stole and albe and strange Pentageron ; 
The wresting of the holy naine of God, 
As Sother, .Elaim, and Adonaie, 
Alpha, 3lanoth, and Tetragramiton, 
With praying to the fiue-fould powers of heauen, 
Are instances that ]acon must be damde, i84o 
For vsing diuels to counteruaile his God. 
Yet, ]acon, cheere thee, drowne not in despaire: 
Sinnes haue their salues, repentance can do much, 
Thinke mercie sits where Iustice holds her seate, 
And from those wounds those bloudie Jrews did pierce, s4. 
Which by thy magicke oft did bleed a fresh, 
From thence for thee the dew of mercy drops, 
To wash the wrath of hie rehouahs ire, 
And make thee as a new borne babe from sinne. 
.Bungay, Ile spend the remnant of my life i85o 
In pure deuotion, praying to my God» 
That he would saue what .Bacon vainly lost. 
1820 worketh] works Q3 1821 braue ont. Q2 3: brutes QI 
1824 ponard Q3 the] their l?.l, ce atd II'ard 1825 efficiat Qq woes] 
owes Q3 1834 Friends Q3 1835 strange] strong 1?),ce and IVard 
Pentaganon Q 2 : Pantaganon Q3 : corr. l?.vce 18:37 Elvim and 
Adonai Q2 3 1838 Tetragrammaton Q 3 1840 instant Q3 damn'd Qa 3 
18tl sing] vising Q3 hi] with Q 3 1849 thee] the Q3 



(SCENE I. Al 'ressingfleld. > 
EnAer Margret in 1Vuns at#arrell , Aeeber, her f«lher, and lheir frien,L 
Aéep..Margret, be hOt so headstrong in these vows 
Oh, burie hot such beautie in a cell, 
That .England hath held famous for the hue! 
Thy fathers haire, like to the siluer bloomes 
That beautifie the shrubs of Affrica, 
Shall fall before the dated time of death, 
Thus to forgoe his louely largret. 
3[argreL A, father, when the hermonie of heauen 86o 
Soundeth the measures of a liuely faith, 
The vaine Illusions of this flattering world 
Seemes odious to the thoughts of .htrgreL 
I loued once, Lord Zade was my loue ; 
And now I hate my selfe for that I lovd, 
And doated more on him than on my God. 
For this I scourge my selfe with sharpe repents. 
But now the touch of such aspiring sinnes 
Tels me ail loue is lust but loue of heauens; 
That beautie vsde for loue is vanitie: 87o 
The world containes nought but alluring baites, 
Pride, flatterie, and inconstant thoughts. 
To shun the pricks of death, I leaue the world, 
And vow to meditate on heauenly blisse, 
To liue in Framingha»t a holy Nunne, 
Holy and pure in conscience and in deed ; 
And for to wish ail maides to learne of me, 
To seeke heauens ioy before earths vanitie. 
Friend. And will you then, 3"[argret, be shorn a Nunne, 
and so leaue vs ail? 
«fargrel. Now farewell, world, ttae engin of ail woe! 88o 
Farewell to friends and father! wetcome Christ! 
Adew to daintie robes! this base attire 

1857 beautifies Q2 3 1860 harmony Q2 : hearmoney Q3 1868 Seenae 
Q : Seem Q3, l)yce, IVard 1867 repeats Q3 1872 inconstants 
1875 Fremingham Q2 3 : Framlingham IDyce and IVard 1882 Adieu 
to oto. Q danty Q3 

Better befits an humble minde to God 
Than all the shew of rich abilliments. 
Farewell, oh Loue, and with fond Loue farewell, 885 
Sweet Zade, whom I loued once so deere! 
Euer be well, but neuer in my thoughts, 
Least I offend to thinke on Zades loue: 
But euen to that, as to the test, farewell: 
t?nter Lacie, Warrain, Ermsbie, booted and s2burd. 
Zade. Come on, my wags, weere neere the Keepers lodge. ,89o 
Heere haue I oft walkt in the watrie Meades, 
And chatted with my louely _M'argret. 
lKarrabte. Sirha 2Vêd, is not this the Keeper? 
Zacie. Tis the same. 
.Ermsbie. The old lecher hath gotton holy mutton to him: 
a Nunne, my lord. x896 
Lade. Keeper, how farest thou ? holla man, what cheere? 
How doth Z'eie thy daughter and my loue ? 
Aéeper. Ah, good my lord! oh, wo is me for _Peg'g'e ! 
See where she stands clad in her Nunnes attire, 9oo 
Readie for to be shorne in t;raminham: 
She leaues the world because she left your loue. 
Oh, good my lord, perswade her if you can. 
Lacie. Why, how now, _M'argrel? what, a malecontent ? 
A Nunne? what holy father taught you this, i9o  
To taske your selfe to such a tedious life 
As die a maid? twere iniurie to me 
To smother vp such bewtie in a cell. 
3rargrel. Lord Zacie, thinking of my former misse, 
How fond the prime of wanton yeares were spent I9o 
In loue, (Oh fie vppon that fond conceite, 
Whose hap and essence hangeth in the eye !), 
I leaue both loue and loues content at once, 
Betaking me to him that is true loue, 
And leauing ail the world for loue of him. I915 
Zacie. Whence, Z'eie, cornes this Metamorphosis ? 
What, shorne a Nun, and I haue froln the Court 
Posted with coursers to conuaie thee hence 
To ll,'indsore, where our Mariage shal be kept! 
1884 habilliments Q. 3 
1909 my 29yce: thy Q¢ 


1885 Farewell 29yce Loue 
1912 hap] hope 

Thy wedding robes are in the tailors hands, ,920 
Corne, _P«gçy, leaue these peremptorie vowes. 
.Margret. Did not my lord resigne his interest, 
And make diuorce twixt _M-argret and hirn ? 
Zade. Twas but to try sweete _Peges constancie. 
But will faire A[argret leaue her loue and Lord ? x925 
_Iarret. Is not heauens ioy before earths fading blisse, 
And life aboue sweeter than life in loue? 
Zacie. Why, then, [argret will be shorne a Nun ? 
s[ar. 2[argret hath ruade a vow which may not be reuokt. 
IYarraine. We cannot stay, my Lord; and if she be so strict, x93o 
Our leisure graunts vs not to woo a fresh. 
rmsbie. Choose you, faire darnsell, yet the choise is yours, 
Either a solemne Nunnerie, or the Court, 
God, or Lord Zacie: which contents you best, 
To be a Nun, or els Lord Zacies wife? 935 
Zacie. A good motion. _Pege, your answere must be short. 
)rargret. The flesh is frayle; rny Lord doth know it well, 
That when he cornes with his inchanting face, 
What so ere betyde I cannot say him nay. 
Off goes the habite of a maidens heart, i9.o 
.And, seeing Fortune will, faire t;remb,gham, 
.And all the shew of holy Nuns, farewell. 
Zacie for me, if he wilbe my lord. 
Zade. ]eggie, thy Lord, thy loue, thy husband. 
Trust me, by truth of knighthood, that the King 945 
Staies for to marry matchles £11inour, 
Vntil I bring thee richly to the Court, 
That one day may both marry her and thee. 
How saist thou, Keeper? art thou glad of this ? 
éeer. As if the English King had giuen 95o 
The parke and deere of 'resingfleld to me. 
rms. I pray thee, my Lord of Sussex, why art thou in 
a broune study ? 
IŒEarraine. To see the nature ofwomen, that be they neuer so 
neare God, yet they loue to die in a mans armes. 955 
Zade. What haue you fit for breakefast? we haue hied 
and posted all this night to t;resing)qdd. 
1923 make] ruade Q3 1926 fading oto. Q3 
1955 they] thy Qq 1957 poasten Q$ 

1934 which] weich QI 3 


2Varret. Butter and cheese, and humbls of a Deere, 
Such as poore Keepers haue within thëir lodge. 
Lacie. And not a bottle of wine ? 9 6o 
2Varret. Weele find one for my Lord. 
Lacie. Corne, Sussex, lets in: we shall haue more, for she 
speaks least, to hold her promise sure. 
E reunL 

(SCENE II. _Fr[ar ]acon's Cdl.) 
Enter a dadll fo seeke Mlles. 
Deuill. How restles are the ghosts of hellish spirites, 
When euerie charmer with his Magick spels 
Cals vs from nine-fold trenched Phlegiton, 
To scud and ouer-scoure the earth in post, 
Vpon the speedie wings of swiftest windsl 
Now ]acon hath raisd me from the darkest deepe, 
To search about the world for _J[iles his man, 
For Miks, and to torment his lasie bones, 
For careles watching of his Brasen head. 
See where he cornes: Oh, he is naine! 


Enter I iles wi/h a gowne and a corner cap. 
2]Iiles. A scholler, quoth you ! marry, sir, I would I had bene 
ruade a botlemaker when I was ruade a scholler; for I 1975 
can get neither to be a Deacon, Reader, nor Schoole- 
maister, no, hOt the clarke of a parish. Some call me 
a dunce; another saith my head is as full of Latine as 
an egs full of oatemeale: thus I am tormented that the 
deuil and Frier 2acon haunts me. Good Lord, heers one 98o 
of my maisters deuils! Ile goe speake to him. What, 
maister Plutus, how chere you ? 
19euill. Doost thou know me ? 
3liles. Know you, sir ! why, are not you one of my maisters 
deuils, that were wont to corne to my maister Doctor 2acon, 98 
at Brazen-nose ? 
Z)euill. Yes, marry, ana I. 
Mlles. Good Lord, M. Plutus, I haue seene you a thousand 
rimes at my maisters, and yet I had neuer the manners 
to make you drinke. But sir, I am glad to see how con- 99o 
19/;8 humbles Q3 1964 sprites Q2 3, Z)yce, bVard 1966 BleKi/on 
QI : 29hileKiton Q3 1972 watchidg Qx 1980 haunt Z)yce attd Ward 

formable you are to the stature. I warrant you, hees as 
yeomanly a man as you shall sec: marke you, Maisters, 
heers a plaine honest man, without welt or garde, but 
I pray you, sir, do you corne lately from hel ? 
Deuil. I marry : how then ? I995 
A[iles. Faith, tis a place I haue desired long to sec: haue 
you not good tipling houses there ? may not a man haue 
a lustie fier there, a pot of good ale, a paire of cardes, a 
swinging peece of chalke, and a browne toast that will clap 
a white wastcoat on a cup of good drinke ? 
-Deuil AI1 this you may haue there. 
riles. You are for me, freinde, and I am for you. But I 
pray you, may I not haue an office there ? 
.Deuil. Yes, a thousand: what wouldst thou be ? 
MT&s. By my troth, sir, in a place where I may profit my 
selle. I know hel is a hot place, and men are meruailous 
drie, and much drinke is spent there ; I would be a tapster. 
.Deuil. Thou shalt. 
3,Eles. Theres nothing lets me from going with you, but that 
tis a long iourney, and I haue neuer a horse. 2oio 
.Deuil. Thou shalt ride on my backe. 
3liles. Now surely here's a courteous deuil, that for to 2oi 
his friend, will not sticke to make a Iade of himselfe. But 
say you, goodman friend, let me moue a question to you. 
.Deuill. What's that ? 
2V[iles. I pray you, whether is your pace a trot or an amble ? 
.DeuilL An amble. 
2V[iles. Tis well ; but take heed it be hot a trot. But tis 
no marrer, Ile preuent it. 
.Deuill. What doest ? 2020 
2V[iles. Mal'y, friend, I put on my spurs: for if I find your 
pace either a trot, or else vneasie, Ile put you to a false 
gallop, Ile make you feele the benefit of my spurs. 
.Deuill. Get vp vpon my backe. 
2l[iles. 0 Lord, here's euen a goodly maruell, when a man 2oa5 
rides to hell on the Deuils back. 
tïa'eunl roaring. 
1991 statute] state Qz 3 199"2 yemonly Q3 1993 a oto. 3 
welt lost m Ql '. AI. 2000 wascont Q3 2012 here's] hers 
QI B. 2t1. ends here "201 say] I pray 1)yce and IVard 


(SCENE III. At Court.> 
Enter the Emperour witlt a #ointlesse sword; next, the Kinff of 
Castile, carryin a sword wit/t a point ; Lacy carryin the Globe, 
Edward Warraine carryinff a rod of ffold wil/t a Dove on it ; Ermsby 
witl a Crowne and Sceter; the Queene witl» the fiffre maide of 
Fresingfield on ber left tmnd, Henry, (Saxony), Bacon, witlz other 
Lords atlendinff. 
Edward. Great Potentates, earths miracles for state, 
Thinke that Prince Edward humbles at your feet, 
And, for these fauours, on his martiall sword 
He vowes perpetuall homage to your selues, o3o 
Yeelding these honours vnto Ellinour. 
lfenr[e. Gramecies, Lordings ; old Plantagenet, 
That rules and swayes the Albion Diademe, 
With teares discouers these conceiued ioyes, 
And vowes requitall, if his men at armes, ao3 
The wealth of England, or due honours done 
To Ellinor, may quite his Fauorites. 
But all this while what say you to the Dames, 
That shine like to the christall lampes of heauen ? 
lterour. If but a third were added to these two, 2040 
They did surpasse those gorgeous Images 
That gloried da with rich beauties wealth. 
A[argret. Tis I, my Lords, who humbly, on my knee, 
Must yeeld her horisons to mighty loue, 
For lifting vp his handmaide to this state; o45 
Brought from her homely cottage to the Court, 
And graste with Kings, Princes and Emperours, 
To whom (next to the noble Zincolne Earle) 
I vow obedience, and such humble loue 
As may a handmaid to such mighty men. o5o 
Ellinor. Thou martiall man that weares the Almaine Crowne, 
And you the Westerne Potentates of might, 
The Albian Princesse, English Edwards wife, 
Proud that the louely star of fi'resing)fdd, 
Faire _Jxfargret, Countesse to the Zincolne Earle, zo55 
Attends on Ellinour,--gramercies, Lord, for her, 
2087 Fauorites] fauourers suK¢'. Dyce 2042 beautious (23 
loue Q$ 05t Proud] Proued Q3 star] state Q3 

204 Ioue] 

Tis I giue thankes for J[argret to you all, 
And test for her due bounden to your selues. 
]arenm'e. Seeing the marriage is solemnized, 
Let's march in triumph to the Royall feast. o6o 
But why stands Fryer .Bacon here so mute? 
.Bacon. Repentant for the follies of my youth, 
That Magicks secret mysteries misled, 
And ioyfull that this Royall marriage 
Portends such blisse vnto this matchlesse Reahne. o65 
]£enrie. Why, ]?acon, what strange euent shall happen to this 
Or what shall grow from ?dzvard and his Queene ? 
]?acon. I find by deepe praescience of mine Art, 
Which once I tempred in my secret Cell, 
That here where t?rule did build his roynouant, 07 o 
From forth the Royall Garden of a King, 
Shall flourish out so rich and faire a bud, 
Whose brightnesse shall deface proud _Phoebus flowre, 
And ouer-shadow AIMon with her leaues. 
Till then, [ars shall be toaster of the field: o75 
]3ut then the stormy threats of wars shall cease ; 
The horse shall stampe as carelesse of the pike, 
Drums shall be tum'd to timbrels of delight ; 
With wealthy fauours plenty shall enrich 
The strond that gladded wandring t?rute to see, o8o 
And peace from heauen shall harbour in these leaues, 
That gorgeous beautifies this match]esse flower. 
A2ollos Hellitropian then shall stoope, 
And Venus hyacinth shall vaile her top, 
uno shall shut her gilliflowers vp, o8. 
And ]allas Bay shall bash her brightest greene ; 
Ceres carnation, in consort with those, 
Shall stoope and wonder at 29iana's Rose. 
fenrie. This Prophesie is mysticall. 
But, glorious commanders of .Eurota's loue, aogo 
That makes faire .England like that wealthy Ile, 
Circled with Gi]zen, and swift .E@hrales, 
In Royallizing ]CZenries Albion 
070 build] blind Q3 '2074 leaues] loues Q3 
l.t'ard 2092 swift Dyce: first Qq 

OE082 beatatify Dyce and 


With presence of your princely mightinesse, 
Let's march: the tables ail are spred, 
And viandes such as Englands wealth affords 
Are ready set to furnish out the bords. 
You shall haue welcome, mighty Potentates: 
It rests to furnish vp this Royall Feast, 
Only your hearts be frolicke." for the rime 
Çraues that we taste of nought but iouysance. 
Thus glories Enghtnd ouer all the West. 



Fa'eunt Otaries. 

Omne tulil îbutclum qui miscuit utile dulci. 


ALL that ve knoxv of the history of this play is that it was entered 
on the Stationers' Registers on May t4, 1594, and was probably 
printed, as the Zoking Glasse, Orlando Furioso, and Frier lacon 
and Frier longay were» in the same year; but no copy earlier 
than the Quarto of I598 is known to be extant. It was published by 
Thomas Creede under the title of The Scottish ttis[orie of James IV, 
slaine al Flodden Fidd. En[« qx,i[h a leasant Comedie lre- 
sen[ed by Oborana I(t)tg af Faeries. Is il bath been sundrie liipaes 
plaide. Writlen by Robert Greene, 3Iat'sler of Arts. O**t,te lttlt'l fiztnc- 
lu,la 1598. As to the time of its composition we bave nothing to guide 
us. Mr. Fleay is of opinion that it was produced in  59 ° because it bears 
the motto Op,tne tulil 2bunclu**t, which Greene affected from August 
1589 to October 159o ; but as the play appeared nearly two years after 
his death the insertion of the motto may have been due to the pub- 
lisher. The text is in a very bad state, and has evidently been printed, 
without any atternpt at editing, from a stage copy. Obvious instances 
of the carelessness with which it was prepared for the press are seen 
in the second scene of the second act, where in the stage direction we 
find ' Arius the nobles spying him returnes,' Arius certainly not being 
the naine of the King of Scotland ; in ii. 2 and iii. I Gnato is put for 
Ateukin, and in iv. I he is added superfluously with Ateukin ; in the 
third scene of the fifth act 'Arius' stands for the King of England, 
whereas elsewhere he is always called 'the King of England,' and in 
the many corruptions tobe round in other stage directions as well as in 
the text. Sornething has evidently dropped out at the end of the play x, 
and the fourth scene of the fifth act, though evidently written by Greene, 
looks very like an interpolation from sorne other drarna. Again, there 
is no interlude at the end of the fifth act, though itis introduced at the 
end of ail the other acts. The very title of the play is absurd, and when 
connected with a passage in the opening interlude (11. lO2-3) displays an 
ignorance of which Greene must have been incapable. There the hero 
is thus spoken of: ' In the year I52O, was in Scotland a King, ouer- 
ruled with parasites, misled by lust,' &c., whose « story ' is « set down' ; 
but on the title-page that king is represented to be « James IV, slaine at 
 See King James's words ' Till time when ?' (v. 6), which as they stand are 


Flodden,' a battle which took place nearly seven years before. 13eyond 
the fact that James IV of Scotland was famous for his gallantries, and 
that he married, not Dorothea, but Margaret the daughter of Henry VII, 
the play has absolutely no relation at ail to that king, or to the events 
of his reign. What probably determined the title were the scandals in 
circulation with reference to James's notorious amours, particularly his 
connexion with Lady Margaret Drummond 1, while bis support of 
Perkin Warbeck (I495-7) and his invasion of England in I5I 3 ruade 
him anything but a ibersona grata with the English people. 
The plot is taken, as Mr. P. A. Daniel was the first to point out , from 
the first novel of the third decade of G. B. Giraldi Cintbio's ttecatom- 
mithi, who has himself dramatized the story in his 4rrenoibia, a eum- 
brous classical drama with which, as Mr. Daniel says, Greene may bave 
been acquainted, but of which he has certainly ruade no use. I give 
a brief analysis of the novel with extracts, that it may be seen by 
comparison how Greene has moulded his materials. There are nine 
personages in the novel : Astatio the King of Ireland, who answers to 
Greene's King ofScotland; Arrenopia= Greene's Dorothea ; Ida, whose 
naine Greene retains ; her mother, the Lady of Mona--the Countess of 
Arran; the Capitano = Jaques and Ateukin ; the Cavaliero = Sir 
Cuthbert Anderson ; the Cavaliero's wife = Lady Anderson ; the Queen's 
Page--Nano ; the Queen's royal father, the King of Scotland=the King 
of England ; a young gentleman of Mona= Lord Eustace. 
 In the island of Ireland once reigned a king, Astatio by name, a valiant man 
but of fickle disposition, and far more inclined to satisfy his desires than to be 
guided by honour and reason. He took to wife a daughter of the King of 
Scotland, fair and noble and of excellent conversation (" di maniere honestissime "), 
with ,vhom he lived peacefully for some years. It happened that having to 
visit his father-in-law in Scotland he was cast by a stdden tempest tpon an 
island hot far distant, ealled Mona, where he was hospitably ettertained by 
a widow, the lady of the isle, who had a daughter of the age of fifteen, hot 
less fair than virtuous and well-bred, and her naine was Ida. And she, as soon 
as she was seen by Astatio, so stormed the fortress of his heart that he tttterly 
forgot his wife. The lady, who was wise and very pndent (" savia ed accorta 
molto "), seeing her guest in no hurry to depart, kept a close watch on Ida (" corne 
devrebbero fare tutte le donne che figliuole hanno"). Astatio, despairing ofseeing 
the girl alone, determines to tempt the mother. Two years before the island 
had been devastated by a tidal wave, which had donc much damage, and so the 
island was no longer a dowry equal to Ida's tank. The king, taking advantage 
of this, proposes to supplement this deficiency by eonferring on her a dowry 
worthy ofher virtue and her beauty, as the price of ber dishonotr (" se vol volete 
ch' io sia con vostra Yigliuola, le dar6 tanto migliaia di scudi, che potrete essere 
sicurissima, che non si rimarrà alcuno di pigliarla per moglie "). This offer is 
rejected with blushes and scorn. The king now secs that dishonourable 
x See Tytler, t[ist, of Scolland, Notes and Illustrations, vol. iv. 418-2o. 
 lthenaeum for October 8, 1881. 

relations with Ida are out of the question, and if he wonld possess her he must 
find some means to marry her. Wherenpon his thoughts turned to the murder 
of his wife Arrenopia. With this wieked and cruel thought he departed from 
Mona and returned to his kingdom, where his wife, burning with most chaste 
longing, came to meet him with beaming eountenance, rejoicing with him for 
that he had eome again safely to his kingdom and to ber. And although she 
was fait enough and bore in her face plainly tobe seen gaiety of heart and the 
faithful love which she had to her husband, yet vas she reeeived by Astatio 
with no other eyes than if he had been unsightly and faithless, so utterly had 
ill-governed desire sfifled reason in that wanton and fickle mind of his. So, 
feigning as best he could a cheerful mien, he sought to hide the wieked thought 
he had coneeived. And by the lady's side he was in no less uneasiness than if 
he had been with his principal enemy. And hot many days passed ere he 
called to him a captain of his men-at-arms who was both cruel and wicked, 
and told him he wanted him to murdeÆ Arrenopia, but that the deed must be 
done in such a way that to the King of Scotland his daughter's death should 
appear reasonable, so that he might have no reason for arming against him. 
The eaptain was one of those who when they do anything to please their lord 
never refleet whether it is just'or unjust, seemly or unseemly, and promised to do 
whatever he was bidden. The king conveys his instructions in aletter, and the 
instructions were that the eaptain was to make his way secretly by night into 
the queen's chamber, murder ber, her ehambermaid, and a servant man, and 
having done so, place the servant man's corpse beside the queen's as though 
they had heen taken in adultery. Iut this letter cornes by an accident into the 
queen's hand, and ber husband's wicked plot against her honour and ber life is 
known to her. And the story cntinues thus : Arrenopia, having been trained 
under her father's roof to bear arms, so as tobe an eqnal match for any knight, 
pretended that she meant to go with her page to a place hot far from the city 
whither it was her wont to go to divert herself by pracfising ber exercises. No 
sooner had she reached that place than she donned ber full armour and girded 
on ber sword, and mounted on ber steed and set forth with her page towards the 
coast to pass over into Scotland. After having ridden all night she is overtaken 
at dawn by the captain, who, having heard of her flight, had gone after ber. 
They at once engage, anti the queen is wounded : "and being weakened by the 
stream of blood which floxved from her wound, hot much longer could she bave 
held out against the proxvess of the captain. Iut God sent her timely succour. 
For there pased that way a knight who had set out from Reba to go to 
St. Patrick's, and seeing the lady in sore straits rescued ber from the captain's 
hands, all the time taking ber for a cavalier and hot a lady." The knight, 
moved with pity, returned to Reba, taking the lady with him, and calling in 
surgeons had ber carefully attended to. Iut the lady would hot surfer any to 
wait on her but ber own page, who was instructed to say that she was a Scottish 
knight xvho had been involved in some quarrel. The captain meanwhile, 
ashamed of his defeat by the knight, and believing that the queen could never 
recover, so severely had she been wounded, announces her death. "At which 
words Astatio was full glad, and it seemed to him that her death could hot have 
fallen out mre luckily for proving ber infidelity in the eyes of all and of ber 
father himself, for that amed in that guise she had fled by night." He then issues 
an edict publishing ber guilt and punishment, hoping thus to avert ber father's 
suspicions. Then he hurries off to Mona that he may marry Ida, but finds ber 


already married. And great is his grief and disgust 1. He returns in despair, 
and everywhere he seems to see before his eyes Arrenopia reproaching him 
with her shameful death and menaeing just punishment. Meanwhile the King 
of Seotland, hearing of his unhappy daughter's fate, and believing that the story 
of her dishonour must be false, as he knew ber character and her love for ber 
husband, sends to Ireland fo make inquiries (" e non marie6 di cercare, per ogni 
possibil via, la verit di questo fatto"). He ascertains the truth, and then 
declares war. 
' Meanwhile Arrenopia had recovered from her wounds and is restored again to 
health. The knight's wife being very attentive to her, for the secret of the 
queen's sex is hOt yet discovered, the knight becomesjealous. Cinthio is careful 
to show that there is nothing unworthy in the love of the knight's wife for the 
beautiful youth a. However, the jealousy of the husband is so apparent that 
Arrenopia thinks it expedient fo leave the bouse and take another lodging. 
Meanwhile the war between Scotland and Ireland is raging. Arrenopia visits 
Astatio's camp, still in disguise, and finds ont that her husband was full of 
remorse for what he had done, and had said that he would give half his kingdom 
if he conld bring ber back to life. It happened too that the knight who was 
so jealons of ber had come to the camp to pay his homage fo the king. And 
now Arrenopia determines to make herself known. But first she resolves to 
put things straight with the knight by revealing ber identity to him ; and that 
she may reward him for having saved her life she resolves that he shall bave 
the eredit of restoring ber to ber husband. Aceordingly she asks the knight to 
corne and see her, as she has something important fo eommunicate to him. He 
comes: she takes his hand and says, "Knight, I would have yon now know 
how wrong men often are in being jealous of their wives" (" Cavaliero, voglio 
che tu hora conoschi a quanto torto molte fiate gli huomini ingelosiscono dell« 
lot donne ") ; and with these words she discovers first her sex and afterwards her 
naine and title. The knight fal]s on his knees, does homage to her as his 
queen, and craves pardon for his error. Then she tells him what she wishes 
him to do. He craves an audience of the king, and after drawing the king on to 
speak of his troubles, of the troubles in which he had involved his kingdom, 
and of the tronbles which he had brought on himself through his wicked 
condnct to his wife, he amazes the king by telling him that Arrenopia is alive. 

t , La madre, che havea veduto in che pericolo era stata la sua Figliuola, 
quando Astatio era in casa, temendo di qualche strano accidente, 1' havea maritata 
ad un nobilissimo Giouvane dell' Isola ; volendola più tosto dare a privato huomo 
con honore, che darla nelle mani d' un Re con gran vergogna. Non si potrebbe 
dire, quanto fosse grave ad Astatio il retrovare Ida maritata. ù per impazzire 
affatto, e retornossi a casa pieno di gravissima maninconia, e dicea il misero 
sovente fra sè: ve' corne ho fatto dar morte indignissima a|la Moglie mia per 
avere Ida, et hora son senza questa e senza quella, la quale meritava da me non 
fine simile a quello ch' ella havuto ha, ma eterno honore. Et havêdo egli tutta 
via questa spina al cuore ch' aspramente lo pungeva, era venuto a fastidio a se 
a ' Era dalla iMoglie del Cavaliero singolarmente amata non gi per lascivia 
che la toccasse, ma per gli nobili costumi e per la rara qualità della ]Donna, la 
quale el|a credea che un cavaliero fosse, e come fratello 1' amava. Et era ella 
molto solleeita a tutto quello, che vedea, ch' a suo commodo e suo servigio fosse. 
I)alla quale sollecitudine avêne quello, che per la poca fede altrui talhora 
awenire si vede, senza eolpa delle ]Donne, quando semplicemente, e con puro 
cuore, eortesi si mostrano verso alcuno virtuoso spirito.' 

He offers to prove it by the testimony of the "knight in your camp who is 
called the unknown." "Call him," says the king ; and then the knight present» 
Arrenopia, still disguised, to Astatio. '" What know you, sir, of my wife ?" says 
the king. "I know so much, my lord," is the answer," that ere I go I will show 
]er to you." With these words raising her vizor and composing her face and voice 
to more compassion--" Behold," she cried» "Astatio, your unhappy Arrenopia ; 
behold, that wretched one whom you, through mad love, wished to be murdered 
by the wicked eaptain who eruelly wounded her that he might slay her. You 
sec her here before you healed and alive and wholly yours. Sec, Astatio, that 
neither grievous injuries, nor plots against her life, nor wounds undeservedly 
reeeived, nor other sorts of treachery, bave availed to prevent ber from loving 
you alone and from coming to your aid in so perilous a war as this which her 
father, believing her to be dead, bas waged against your realm. Consider here, 
I pray you, my husband, if the love and the loyalty of your vife merited ber being 
eruelly killed by your orders on the plea that she vas an adulteress, or whether 
rather she was hot worthy of a return of love and loyalty on your part." And 
here tenderly weeping she tan to embrace him . Astatio replies with repentanee 
and affection. The knight is thanked and richly rewarded; nnd a few days 
afterwards Arrenopia goes as ambassador to ber father's camp, tells ber story, 
and brings him baek with her to be reconeiled to his penitent son-in-lady.' 
When we compare Greene's play with the novel we not only sec 
how and to what extent he was one of the masters of Shakespeare, but 
how near he came to being a really efficient dramatist. We see, little 
more than in embryo, it is truc, what fine conceptions he had, and 
what tact, insight, and skill he possessed as a dramatic artist. Take 
the setting of the play. In Oberon we have the germ of a Prospero, 
in 13ohan the germ of a Jaques, in both the embodiment of philosophic 
contemplation of life. They stand apart from the action--Bohan 
a world-weary, disillusioned cynic, Oberon the tranquil, cheerful spirit 
to whom if llfe and man are dream and shadow they are yet amusing. 
And is he not also King of the Fairies=lord ofthe realm of Fancy ? 
' I tell thee, ]3ohan, Oberon is King 
Of quiet, pleasure, profit, and content, 
Of wealth, of honor, and of ail the world ; 
Tide to no place, yet all are ride to me. 
Liue thou [in] this life, exilde from world and men, 
And I will shew thee xvonders ere we part' (11. 6o8-I3). 
I , Et con queste parole alzatasi la ,«isiera, e composto il viso, & la ,¢oce al 
movere eompassione; Ecco, disse, Astatio, la vostra infelice Arrenopia, Eceo quella 
misera, cui roi, per folle amore, volevate rare uccidere allo scelerato Capitano, 
il quale à morte crudelmente la percosse. Yedetelavi avanti, et fisanata, et 
rira, & tutta vostra. Yedete, /kstatio, che nè ingiuria grave, nè morte 
apparecchiatale, nè fefite indegnamente ricevte, nè altre maniere d' insidie, 
l' hanno potuta ritrarre da singolarmente amarvi, & da non venire in vostro 
aiuto in cos| pericolosa guerra, quale è questa, che il suo Padre, credendola 
per roi morta, hà mossa al Regno vostro. Considerate ri prego, marito mio, 
se 1' amore & la fede della Mogliera vostra meritava, che fosse, di vostra 
commissione, crudelmente uccisa, sotto home di adultera, 6 se pure era dena, 
che le fosse da vol con amore e con fede risposto. Et qui teneramente 
piangendo 1o corse ad abbraeeiare.' 

There cannot be the smallest doubt that Shakespeare saw what 
Greene meant, and that the 21lzdsummer 2Vight Z)ream only gave more 
articulate expression to what found stammering and partial expression 
in the Interlude portions of this play. The whole conduct of the plot, 
in what it omits and in what it retains, in what it adds and in what it 
modifies, taught, so far as we knoxv, for the first time the most fruitful of 
secrets to the Elizabethan dramatists--the art of adapting the Italian 
novel to the popular English stage. The character of James and the 
character of Lady Anderson are striking illustrations of Greene's power 
of conceiving as distinguished from his power of developing his crea- 
tions. He had the tact to substitute for Cinthio's cruel and atrocious 
villain a man in whom the higher and lower nature is in conflict, and 
in whom the conscience of a naturally honourable and even chival- 
rous man is never asleep. Thus, to relieve him of part of the burden of 
infamy, he creates Ateukin to originate and prompt the murder, and 
he does hot complicate the purposed crime by tarnishing Dorothea's 
honour and involving others in ber death. 13ut we feel that Shake- 
speare has effected in a single soliloquy--that of Claudius in Hamlet-- 
what Greene fails to effect through a vhole drama. In the position of 
the King he bas all the material for a most impressive moral tragedy, 
and in faint touches we have it ; but it fails to impress, and the character 
dwindles into a weak, selfish, and somewhat commonplace young 
libertine. The struggle of an honourable woman with a dishonourable 
passion--another original deviation from the novel--gave him a second 
opportunity for a study of profound interest; but he bas not even 
invested it vith pathos. There is, however, one fine touch, where 
Lady Anderson suddenly turns in revulsion on herself with 131ush, 
greeue, and die in thine insaciat lust' (1. 2169). The other women are 
admirable : the countess--how vividly is her personality realized out of 
mere hints furnished by the novel--with ber quiet dignity, her easy 
condescension, as gracious as in ber younger and happier days, ber 
watchful love for ber child, ber prudence, ber knowledge of that vofld 
which she had long renounced and had so justly estimated--she is 
only a sketch, but she lives ! Ida is beautifully drawn--a Miranda 
nurtured in solitude by a female instead of a maie philosopher. 
But Dorothea would do honour to Shakespeare : she is the soul of the 
drama, and as ber presence pervades it she redeems ail the faults of 
the play. I bave already shown that there is one type of voman of 
which ail Greene's best female characters are repetitions, and Dorothea 
is their queen, the crown and flower of them. It was no doubt the 
character of Arrenopia which attracted him to the novel. Among the 
minor characters the Bishop of St. Andrews, though slightly sketched, 
is drawn well. 
For the comic portions of the play Greene was most likely only 
partially responsible ; some of them bave ail the appearance of inter- 

polations. The serious parts are beautifully written, and have all the 
appearance of belonging to Greene's latest work. The blank verse, 
which is far superior to that of A12bhonsus , the Loobin Glasse, and 
Orlanda, is very rnusical--having an ease, a smoothness, and a flexibility 
vhich are quite charming. Of ail Greene's plays it has most thught 
and reflection in it. 
blr. Fleay (27io. Chrn. Z)raz., vol. i. p. 265) contends, arguing 
mainly from the confusion of names in the play, that it was not 
the work of a single hand--that Greene had an assistant ; and that 
assistant, he thinks, was Lodge, whose hand he discerns in the fourth 
scene of the fifth act, vhich is certainly very much in the style of the 
satirical scenes of the Zoakinff Glasse commonly attributed to Lodge. 
Some colour is added to this conjecture, though Mr. Fleay does not 
notice it, by the curious parallel between Jaques and Pedro, a character 
in Lodge's I4Zaunds of Civil 14ar: both express in the 
same broken jargon of French and English, both have a strong 
generic resemblance, and both are employed as cutthroats, Jaques 
to assassinate Dorothea and Pedro to assassinate Marius. ]3ut ail 
this, allowing even for other similarities with Lodge's dramatic vork, 
does hot varrant us in concluding that he had any hand in the com- 
position of the play. Interpolations hot from Greene's hands vere 
very likely made in the play, and are to be found in the comic portions, 
but there is nothing to justify us in assuming that they were by Lodge. 
The text is based on a collation of the two Quartos bearing the same 
date, 1598, one in the British Museum and one in the South Kensington 
Museum. When it has been necessary to record a difference between 
the two Quartos the letters B.M. and S.K. have been used. The play 
is said to bave been reprinted in 1599, and the reprint is duly recorded 
by Lowndes, but of such a reprint I can discover no trace. Possibly 
this may be an error originating from Baker, who in his 27i0g. Drapez. 
gives 1599 as the date of the only edition he notices. 

T t-1 E 

Hiffori« . 

Emermixed with a pleafam Comedie.prd'¢ntcdb¥ 
Oh»rare Kilg of Fay«ries: f. 

As i¢ l:.,tb bene fundrie timespublikel 

Writtcn by R.ert Gree»e, MaiRer of Arts. 

Omne tulit punftum. 

lin by Thomas C¢¢d¢. I  p S. 


A Zawyer. 
M lerchant. 
A Divine. 
NANO, a dwarf sons fo BOHAN. 

_Purveyor, erald, Scoul, Hunlsmen, Soldiers, 2evellers. dc. 
DOROTHEA, Queen of Scots. 
IDA, /er daughter. 
Zadies, 'c. 
OBERON, A'ing of tairies. 
.4 nlics, airies, 'c. > 

 Not in Q--adopted from Dite. 


Musicke playing within. 
Enter Aster Oberon, A'ing of Fayries ; an(d) A»dique(s), wlto d«nce 
about a Tombe, bladst conueniently on the Stage; out of the evhictt 
suddainly starts I, as they daunce, Bohan, a Scot, altyred like 
a ridstall man, from hom the .ntique(s)flye. 
Oberon «IaneL 
oh. Ay say, whats thou ? 
Ober. Thy friend, ohan. 
oh. What wot I or reck I that ? whay, guid man, I reck no 
friend nor ay reck no foe ; als ene to me. Git the(e) ganging, 
and trouble hot may whayet, or ays gar the(e) recon me nene 5 
of thay friend, by the Mary masse, sali I. 
Ober. Why, angrie Scot, I visit thee for loue ; then what mooues 
thee to wroath ? 
oh. The deele awhit reck I thy loue. For I knowe too well 
that true loue tooke her flight twentie winter sence to io 
heauen, whither till ay can, weele I wot, ay sal nere finde 
loue: an thou lou'st me, leaue me to my selfe. But what 
were those Puppits that hopt and skipt about me year whayle ? 
Ober. My subiects. 
Bob. Thay subiects! whay, art thou a King? x5 
Ober. I ara. 
Bob. The deele thou art! whay, thou look'st not so big as 
the King of Clubs, nor so sharpe as the King of Spades, nor 
so faine as the King a Daymonds : be the masse, ay take thee 
to bee the king of false harts; therfore I rid thee away, or 2o 
ayse so curry your Kingdome that you's be glad to runne to 
saue your life. 
The Scottish Historie of Iames the fourth, slaine at Flodden. Entermixed 
with a pleasant Comedie, presented by Oboram King of Fayeries. x 598 (Title- 
S. D. After . . . an Antique... Antiqueflyes (2 5 recon] reson Q 
19 Adaymonds Q 


Ober. Why, stoycall Scot, do what thou dar'st to me: heare is 
my brest, strike. 
27oh. Thou Mit not threap me, this whiniard has gard many 2.5 
better men to lope then thou ! ( Tries fo drazv his sword.) But 
how now! Gos sayds, what, wilt not out ? whay, thou wich, 
thou deele! Gads fute, may whiniard! 
Ober. Why, pull, man : but what an 'twear out, how then ? 
27oh. This, then,--thou weart best begon first ; for ayl so lop 30 
thy lyms that thou's go with half a knaues carkasse to the 
Ober. Draw it out: now strike, foole, canst thou not ? 
27oh. Bread ay gad, what deele is in me ? whay, tell lnee, thou 
skipiack, what art thou? 35 
Ober. Nay, first tell me what thou wast from thy birth, what thou 
hast past hitherto, why thou dwellest in a Tombe and leauest 
the world, and then I will release thee of these bonds; 
before, not. 
27oh. And not before ! then needs must, needs sal. I was borne 40 
a Gentleman of the best bloud in all Scotland, except the King. 
When time brought me to age, and death tooke my parents, I 
becane a Courtier; where, though ay list not praise my selle, 
ay engraued the memory of 2?ohan on the skin-coate of some 
of them, and reueld with the proudest. 45 
Ober. But why, liuing in such reputation, didst thou leaue to 
be a Courtier? 
27oh. Because my pride was vanitie, my expence losse, my reward 
faire words and large promises, and my hopes spilt, for that 
after many yeares seruice one outran me ; and what the deele 50 
should I then do there ? No, no; flattering knaues, that can 
cog and prate fastest, speede best in the Court. 
Ober. To what life didst thou then betake thee? 
/?oh. I then chang'd the Court for the Countrey, and the wars for a 
wife : but I round the craft of swaines more vile then the knauery 55 
of courtiers, the charge of children more heauie then seruants, 
and wiues tongues worse then the warres it selfe ; and therefore 
I gaue ore that, and went to the citie to dwell ; and there I 
kept a great house with smal cheer, but all was nere the nere. 
Ober. And why ? 60 

44 17ougon Q 55-56 «op.v bas only the craft of swaines more wise 
then the seruants 

Bob. Because, in seeking friends, I round table guests to eate 
me and my meat ; my wiues gossops to bewray the secrets of 
my heart, kindred to betray the effect of my life : which when 
I noted, the Court ill, the Country worse, and the Citie worst 
of all, in good time my wife died,--ay wood she had died 65 
twentie winter sooner, by the masse! leauing my two sonnes 
to the world, and shutting my selfe into this Tombe, where 
if" I dye I ara sure I ara safe from wilde beasts, but whilest 
I liue cannot be free from iii cornpanie. Besides, now I ara 
sure, gif all my friends fail me, I sall haue a graue of mine 7o 
owne prouiding. This is all. Now, what art thou? 
Ober. Oberon, King of Fayries, that loues thee because thou 
hatest the world; and to gratulate thee, I brought these 
Antiques to shew thee some sport in dauncing, which thou 
haste loued well. 75 
toh. Ha, ha, ha! thinkest thou those puppits can please me? 
whay, I haue two sonnes, that with one Scottish gigge shall 
breake the neckes of thy Antiques. 
Ober. That I would faine see. 
toh. Why, thou shalt. Howe, boyes! 8o 
tnler Slipper and Nano. 
Haud your clacks, lads, trattle hot for thy lire, but gather oppe 
your legges, and daunce me forthwith a gigge worth the sight. 
SI. Why, I must talk, on I dy for't : wherefore was my tongue 
ruade ? 
oh. Prattle, an thou darst, one word more, and ais dab this 85 
whiniard in thy wombe. 
Ober. Be quiet, tohan. Ile strike him dumbe, and his brother 
too: their talk shal not hinder out gigg.--fall to it; dance, 
I say, man. 
toh. Dance Humer, dance, ay rid thee. 9 o 
The levo dance a fffff deuised for lhe Nonst. 
Now get you to the wide world with more then my father gaue 
me, thats learning enough both kindes, knauerie & honestie ; 
and that I gaue you, spend at pleasure. 
Ober. Nay, for their sport I will giue them this gift: to the 
Dwarfe I giue a quicke witte, "tprettie-I" of body, and a warrant 95 
his preferment to a Princes Seruice, where by his wisdome he 
79 would I S. 1(.. 81 clucks/'. 3/. 85 one] eneS. A'. 90 Heimor 25'. 3/. 

shall gaine more loue then common ; and to loggerhead your 
sonne I giue a wandering life, and promise he shall neuer lacke, 
and auow, that if in all distresses he call vpon me, to helpe 
him.--Now let them go. 
Exeunt with curtesies. 
t?oh. Now, King, if thou be a King, I will shew thee whay I 
hate the world by demonstration. In the year i52o, was in 
Scotland a King, ouerruled with parasites, misled by lust, and 
many circumstances too long to trattle on now, much like out 
Court of Scotland this day. That story haue I set down. 
Gang with me to the Gallery, and Ile shew thee the same in 
action by guid fellowes of out country men; and then when 
thou seest that, iudge if any wise man would hOt leaue the 
world if he could. 
Ober. That will I see: lead, and ile follow thee. o 
Laus Deo detur in Eternum. 
Enter the Ix'inff of Enffl«nd, the Ix'inff of Scots, Dorithe his Queen, the 
Countesse, Lady Ida, wit/t other Lords; and Ateukin with t/rem 


kç of Scots. ]3rother of England, since our neighboring land 
And neare alliance doth inuite out loues, 
The more I think vpon out last accord, 
The more I greeue your suddaine parting hence. 
First, lawes of friendship did confirme our peace, 
Now both the seale of faith and marriage bed, 
The naine of father, and the style of friend 
These force in me affection full confirmd 
So that I greeue--and this my heartie griefe, 
The heauens record, the world may witnesse well-- 
To loose your presence, who are now to me 
A father, brother, and a vowed friend. 
K. ofEng. Sink ail these louely stiles, good King, in one: 
And since thy griefe exceeds in my depart, 
I leaue my .Dorithea to enioy 
Thy whole compact (of) loues and plighted vowes. 

106 Ile] he Q 1'25, 6 to enioy thy whole compact Loues and plighted 
vowes Q 

Sc. Il 


Brother of Scotland, this is my ioy, my life, 
Her fathers honour, and her Countries hope, 
Her mothers comfort, and her husbands blisse: 
I tell thee, King, in louing of my Doll, J 
Thou bindst her fathers heart, and ail his friends, 
In bands of loue that death cannot dissolue. 
Ai of Scols. Nor can her father loue her like to me, 
My liues light, and the comfort of my soule.-- 
Faire 19orithea, that wast Englands pride, 
Welcome to Scothnd; and, in signe of loue, 
Lo, I inuest thee with the Scottish Crowne.-- 
Nobles and Ladies, stoupe vnto your Queene, 
And Trumpets sound, that Heralds may proclaime 
Faire 19orithea peerlesse Queene of Scots. 
Ail. Long liue and prosper out faire Q(ueene) of Scots ! 
Enslall and Crowne ber. 
Dot. Thanks to the King of Kings for my dignity; 
Thanks to my father, that prouides so carefully; 
Thanks to my Lord and husband for this honor ; 
And thanks to ail that loue their King and me. 
Ail. Long liue faire A)orithea, our true Queene! 
K. of2n K. Long shine the sun of Scotland in ber pride, 
Her fathers comfort, and faire Scotlands Bride! 
But, A)orithea, since I must depart, 
And leaue thee from thy tender mothers charge, 
Let me aduise my louely daughter first 
What best befits ber in a forraine land. 
Liue, A)oll, for many eyes shall looke on thee, 
With care of honor and the present state ; 
For she that steps to height of Maiestie 
Is euen the marke whereat the enemy aimes: 
Thy vertues shall be construed to vice, 
Thine affable discourse to abject minde; 
If coy, detracting tongues will call thee proud. 
Be therefore warie in this slippery state: 
Honour thy husband, loue him as thy lire, 
Make choyce of friends, as Eagles of their yoong, 
Who sooth no vice, who flatter hot for gaine, 
But loue such friends as do the truth maintaine. 
15 With Z)yce: Haue Q 






AcT I 

Thinke on these lessons when thou art alone, 
And thou shalt liue in health when I ara gone. 
1Dot. I will engraue these precep(t)s in my heart : 
And as the wind with calmnesse woes you hence, 
Euen so I wish the heauens in all mishaps 
May blesse my father with continuall grace. 
A'. of£'ng'. Then, son, farewell: 
The fauouring windes inuites vs to depart. 
Long circumstance in taking princely leaues 
Is more officious then conuenient. 
Brother of Scotland, loue me in my childe; 
You greet me well, if so you will her good. 
A: of S cors. Then, louely iDoll, and all that fauor me, 
Attend to see out English friends at sea: 
Let all their charge depend vpon my purse: 
They are our neighbors, by whose kind accord i8o 
We date attempt the proudest Potentate. 
Onely, faire Countesse, and your daughter, stay ; 
With you I haue some other thing to say. 
Exeunt ai1 saue the Iin,, the Counlesse, Ida, Ateukin, in ai1 royaltie. 
K. of Scots. So let them tryumph that haue cause to ioy: 
But, wretched King, thy nuptiall knot is death, x85 
Thy Bride the breeder of thy Countries fil 
For thy false heart dissenting from thy hand, 
Misled by loue, hath ruade another choyce, 
Another choyce, euen when thou vowdst thy soule 
To Dorithea, Englands choysest pride: 9o 
O, then thy wandring eyes bewitcht thy heart ! 
Euen in the Chappell did thy fancie change, 
When, periur'd man, though faire Doll had thy hand, 
The Scottish Zdaes bewtie stale thy heart : 
Yet feare & loue hath tyde thy readie tongue 95 
From babbling forth the passions of thy minde, 
Lest fearefull silence haue in suttle lookes 
Bewrayd the treason of my new vowd loue. 
Be faire and louely, Doll; but here's the prize, 
That lodgeth here, and entred through mine eyes: 300 
Yet, how so ere I loue, I must be wise.-- 
171- one line Q 188 hath 29yce: hast Q 197 Lest] 'Less 29yce 


Now, louely Countesse, what reward or grace 
May I imploy on you for this your zeale, 
And humble honors, done vs in out Court, 
In entertainment of the English King? 
Countesse. It was of dutie, Prince, that I haue done; 
And what in fauour may content me most ; 
Is, that it please your grace to giue me leaue 
For to returne vnto my Countrey home. 
K. of Stars. But, louely rata, is your mind the same? .io 
J'da. I count of Court, my Lord, as wise men do, 
Tis fit for those that knowes what longs thereto: 
Each person to his place; the wise to Art, 
The Cobler to his clout, the swaine to Cart. 
K. of Scols. But, lda, you are faire, and bewtie shines, 
And seemeth best, where pomp her pride refines. 
J'da. If bewtie, (as I know there's none in me,) 
Were sworne my loue, and I his life should be, 
The farther from the Court I were remoued, 
The more, I thinke, of heauen I were beloued. 520 
K. of Scols. And why? 
j'da. ]3ecause the Court is counted Venus net, 
Where gifts & vowes for stales are often set: 
None, be she chaste as lCla, but shall meete 
A curious toong to charme her eares with sweet. 
K. ofScots. Why, Zda, then I see you set at naught 
The force of loue. 
j'da. In sooth, this is my thoght, 
Most gracious King, that they that little proue, 
Are miche blest, from bitter sweets of loue. 
And weele I wot, I heard a shepheard sing, 
That, like a Bee, Loue hath a little sting: 
He lurkes in fiowres, he pearcheth on the trees, 
He on Kings pillowes bends his prettie knees; 
The ]3oy is blinde, but when he will not spie, 
He hath a leaden foote and wings to file: 
t3eshrow me yet, for all these strange effects; 
If I would like the Lad that so infects. 
K. of Scols. Rare wit, fait face, what hart could more desire ? 

for stales] forestalls Eng. larnass. 225 curious] curteous Eng. 
]garnass. 228-9 In sooth... King one line in Q 

But t!)oll is faire and doth concerne thee neere: 
Let t!)all be faire, she is wonne; but I must woe 
And win faire Ida, there's some choyce in two.-- 
But, Ida, thou art coy. 
Ida. And why, dread King ? 
A: of Scots. In that you will dispraise so sweet a thing 245 
As loue. Had I my wish-- 
Ida. What then ? 
A: of Scots. Then would I place 
His arrows here, his bewtie in that face. 
Zda. And were Apollo moued and rulde by me, 250 
His wisdome should be yours, and mine lais tree. 
A: of Scots. But here returnes our traine. 
tïnters lhe traine backe. 
Welcome, faire Z)oll: 
How fares our father ? is he shipt & gone ? 
Dor. My royall father is both shipt & gone: 255 
God and faire winds direct him to his home! 
: of Scots. Amen, say I. Wold thou wert with him too! 
Then might I haue a titrer time to woo.-- 
But, Countesse, you would be gone, therfore, farwell,-- 
Yet, Ida, if thou wilt, stay thou behind 26 
To accompany my Queene: 
But if thou like the pleasures of the Court,-- 
Or if she likte me, tho she left the Court,-- 
What should I say? I know (hOt) what to say,-- 
You may depart--And you, my curteous Queene, 265 
Leaue me a space; I haue a waightie cause 
To thinke vpon: Ida, it nips me neere; 
It came from thence, I feele it burning heere. 
Exeunl ai1 sauing lhe Kinff, and Ateukin. 
I(. of S«ots. Now ara I free from sight of common eie, 
Where to my selfe I may disclose the griefe 270 
That hath too great a part in mine affects. 
Ateu. (aside). And now is my time by wiles and words to rise, 
Greater than those, that thinks themselues more wise. 
245-6 so sweet A thing Q 248-9 his arrows here His bewtie Q 
252 S. 29. after 254 in Q 258-4 one liste in Q 266-î Leaue . . . 
vpon as one line in Q 


K. of Scots. And first, fond King, thy honor doth engraue 
Vpon thy browes the drift of thy disgrace. 
Thy new vowd loue, in sight of God and men, 
Linke(s) thee to 29orithea during life; 
For who more faire and vertuous then thy wife ? 
Deceitfull murtherer of a quiet minde, 
Fond loue, vile lust, that thus misleads vs men, 280 
To vowe out faithes, and fall to sin againe! 
But Kings stoupe not to euery common thought : 
Ida is faire & wise, fit for a King ; 
And for faire Ida will I hazard life, 
Venture my Kingdome, Country, & my Crowne: 
Such tire hath loue to burne a kingdome downe. 
Say 29o11 dislikes that I estrange my loue ; 
Am I obedient to a womans looke ? 
Nay, say her father frowne when he shall heare 
That I do hold faire Idaes loue so deare ; 290 
Let father frowne and fret, and fret and die, 
Nor earth nor heauen shall part my loue and I. 
Yea, they shall part vs, but we first must meet, 
And wo and win, and yet the world not see't. 
Yea, ther's the wound, and wounded with that thoght, 29. 
So let me die, for all my drift is naught. 
./lieu. Most gratious and imperiall Maiestie,-- 
(Aside.) A little flattery more were but too much. 
1(. of S cors. Villaine, what art thou 
That thus darest interrupt a Princes secrets? 3oo 
A/eu. Dread King, thy vassall is a man of Art, 
Who knowes, by constellation of the stars, 
]3y oppositions and by drie aspects, 
The things are past and those that are to corne. 
K. of Scots. But where's thy warrant to approach my presence ? 305 
Ateu. My zeale, and ruth to see your graces wrong, 
Makes me lainent I did detract so long. 
K. of Scots. If thou knowst thoughts, tell me, what mean I now ? 
Ateu. Ile calculate the cause 
Of those your highnesse smiles, and tell your thoughts. 
K. of Scots. But least thou spend thy time in idlenesse, 

298 Q gives to K. of Scots 
line in Q 

809-10 Ile calculate . . . smiles one 

And misse the matter that my mind aimes at, 
Tell me, 
What star was opposite when that was thought? 
I-te slrikes hitz on lhe eare. 
Ateu. Tis inconuenient, Mightie Potentate, 
Whose lookes resembles loue in Maiestie, 
To scorne the sooth of science with contempt. 
I see in those imperiall lookes of yours 
The whole discourse of loue: Salurn combust, 
With direfull lookes, at your natiuitie, 
Beheld faire Venus in her siluer orbe: 
I know, by certaine axionas I haue read, 
Your graces griefs, & further can expresse 
Her naine that holds you thus in fancies bands. 
I(. of Scols. Thou talkest wonders. 325 
Ateu. Nought but truth, 0 King. 
Tis Ida is the nfitresse of your heart, 
Whose youth must take impression of affects ; 
For tender twigs will bowe, and milder minds 
Will yeeld to fancie, be they followed well. 
I(. ofScots. What god art thou, composde in humane shape, 
Or bold 2"rohonius, to decide our doubts? 
How knowst thou this ? 
.,4teu. Euen as I know the meanes 
To worke your graces freedome and your loue. 
Had I the mind, as many courtiers haue, 
To creepe into your bosome for your coyne, 
And beg rewards for euery cap and knee, 
I then would say, if that your grace would giue 
This lease, this manor, or this pattent seald, 
For this or that I would effect your loue: 
But Ateukin is no Parasite, O Prince. 
I know your grace knowes schollers are but poore 
And therefore, as I blush to beg a fee, 
¥our mightinesse is so magnificent, 
You cannot chuse but cast some gift apart, 
To ease my bashfull need that cannot beg. 
As for your loue, oh, might I be imployd, 
How faithfully would Ateukn compasse it! 
313-40,te litre itt Q_ 823-t ¥our graees.., name one line 


But Princes rather trust a smoothing tongue 
Then men of Art that can accept the time. 
1,2. of Scots. Ateu(kin), if so thy naine, for so thou saist, 
Thine Art appeares in entrance of my loue; 
And since I deeme thy wisedom matcht with truth, 
I will exalt thee, and thy selfe alone 355 
Shalt be the Agent to dissolue my griefe. 
Sooth is, I loue, and _Zda is my loue; 
But my new marriage nips rne neare, Ateukin, 
For Dorit]zea may not brooke th' abuse. 
Ateu. These lets are but as moaths against the sun, 360 
Yet not so great; like dust belote the winde, 
Yet not so light. Tut, pacifie your grace: 
You haue the sword and scepter in your hand 
You are the King, the state depends on you ; 
Your will is law. Say that the case were mine: 365 
Were she my sister whom your highnesse loues, 
She s]wu'd consent, for that out liues, out goods, 
Depend on you; and if your Queene repine, 
Although my nature cannot brooke of blood, 
And Schollers grieue to heare of murtherous deeds, 
But if the Lambe should let the Lyons way, 
]3y my aduise the Lambe should lose her lire. 
Thus ara I bold to speake vnto your grace, 
Who aih too base to kisse your royall feete, 
For I am poore, nor haue I land nor rent, 375 
Nor countenance here in Court, but for my loue, 
Your grace shall find none such within the reahne. 
1. of Scots. Wilt thou effect my loue ? Shall she be mine? 
Ateu. Ile gather moly, crocus, and the earbes 
That heales the wounds of body and the minde; 380 
Ile set out charmes and spels, nought shal be left 
To tame the wanton if she shall rebell : 
Giue lne but tokens of your highnesse trust. 
W. of Scots. Thou shalt haue gold, honor, and wealth inough; 
Winne (me) my loue, and I will make thee great. 385 
,4leu. These words do make me rich, most noble Prince ; 
I ara more proude of them then any wealth. 

860 moaths] motes Z)yce : moates Grosa,'t 371 But] Yet st«gg. Z)eighton 
879 Moly-rocus Q : «orr. 3Iitford 381 (2 izserts else afier nought 



Did not your grace suppose I flatter you, 
Beleeue me, I would boldly publish this ;-- 
Was neuer eye that sawe a sweeter face, 
Nor neuer eare that heard a deeper wit: 
Oh God, how I am rauisht in your woorth ! 
A:of Scots. Ateu(bin), follow me; loue must haue ease. 
Ateu. Ile kisse your highnesse feet, march when you please. 
nlef Slipper, Nano, amr" Andrew, it] leff billet, feadie eritte, fn 
their hands. 
Andr. Stand back, sir, mine shall stand highest. 395 
Slip. Corne vnder mine arme, sir, or get a footstoole; or else, 
by the light of the Moone, I must come to it. 
dVano. Agree, my maisters, euery man to his height. Though 
I stand lowest, I hope to get the best maister. 
Indr. Ere I will stoupe to a thistle, I will change turnes. 400 
As good lucke cornes on the right hand as the left. Here's 
for me. 
Slip. And me. 
dVano. And naine. 
Indr. But tell me, fellowes, till better occasion corne, do you 405 
seeke maisters ? 
Ambo. We doo. 
Andr. But what can you do worthie preferment ? 
dVano. Marry, I can smell a knaue from a rat. 
Slip. And I can licke a dish before a cat. 4to 
Andr. And I can finde two fooles vnsought,--how like you 
that ? But, in earnest, now tell me of what trades are you 
two ? 
Slip. How meane you that, sir, of what trade ? Marry, Ile tell 
you, I haue many trades: the honest trade when I needs 415 
must ; the filching trade when time serues; the cousening 
trade as I finde occasion. And I haue more qualities: I 
cannot abide a fui cup vnkist, a fat capon vncaru'd, a full 
purse vnpickt, nor a foole to prooue a iustice as you do. 
Andr. Why, sot, why calst thou me foole ? 420 
_/Vano. For examining wiser then thy selfe. 
895-482 Q prints as verse 401-4 Here'-... mine Q giz,es to Andr. : 
corr. Grosart 


Andr. So doth many more then I in Scolland. 
JVano. Yea, those are such, as haue more authoritie then wit, and 
more wealth then honestie. 
Slip. This is my little brother with the great wit; 'ware him!4x5 
But what canst thou do, tel me, that art so inquisitiue of vs ? 
Andr. Any thing that concernes a gentleman to do, that tan 
I do. 
Slip. So you are of the gentle trade ? 
Andr. Truc. 43 ° 
Slip. Then, gentle sir, leaue vs to our selues, for heare cornes 
one as if he would lack a semant ere he went. 
nter Ateukin. 
Ateu. Why, so, ./tleukin, this becomes thee best, 
Wealth, honour, case, and angelles in thy chest: 
Now may I say, as many often sing, 435 
'No fishing to the sea, nor seruice to a king.' 
Vnto this high promotion doth belong 
Meanes to be talkt of in the thickest throng. 
And first, to fit the humors of my Lord, 
Sweete layes and lynes of loue I must record ; 4o 
And such sweete lynes and louelayes ile endite, 
As men may wish for, and my leech delight: 
And next a traine of gallants at my heeles, 
That men may say, the world doth run on wheeles ; 
For men of art, that rise by indirect/on 445 
To honour and the fauour of their King, 
Must vse all meanes to saue what they haue got, 
_And win their fauours whom they neuer knew. 
If any frowne to sec my fortunes such, 
_A man must beare a little, not too much. 4.o 
But, in good time, these billes portend, I thinke, 
That some good fellowes do for seruice seeke. 
)"f any gentleman, spirituall or lemerall, will entertaine out of 
his seruice a young stdjbling of the age of 3 ° yeares, lhat tan 
sleep witk the sound«st, cale with the hungriest, work with the 45.5 
sickest, lye with the lowdesl, face with the proudest, etc., that 
tan wait in a gentlemans chamber when his maister [s a myle 
487 promotions Q 442 leech] liege 13yce 47 they 13yce : he Q 
451 partend Q 

of, keepe his stable w]zen ris emplie, and his purse when 
fidl, and bath many qualiNes woorse th, n all these, let him write 
his naine and goe his way, and attendance shall be uen. 460 
Ateu. 13y my faith, a good seruant : which is he ? 
Slip. Trulie, sir, that ana I. 
A/eu. And why doest thou write such a bill? Are all these 
qualifies in thee? 
Slip. 0 Lord, I, sir, and a great many more, some better, 46 
some worse, some ficher, some porer. Why, sir, do you 
looke so? do they not please you ? 
Iteu. Trulie, no, for they are naught, and so art thou: if 
thou hast no better qualifies, stand by. 
Slip. O, sir, I tell the worst first; but, and you lack a man 41o 
I ara for you: Ile tell you the best qualifies I haue. 
Ateu. Be breefe, then. 
Slip. If you need me in your chamber, I can keepe the doore 
at a whistle; in your kitchen, turne the spit, and licke the 
pan, and make the tire burne ; but if in the stable, 
Ateu. Yea, there would I vse thee. 
Slip. Why, there you kill me, Cthere am I," and turne me to 
a horse and a wench, and I haue no peere. 
Ateu. Art thou so good in keeping a horse? I pray thee tell 
me how many good qualifies hath a horse ? 4so 
Slip. Why, so, sir: a horse hath two properties of a man, 
that is, a proude heart, and a hardie stomacke; foure 
properties of a Lyon, a broad brest, a stiffe docket,--hold your 
nose, master,wa wild countenance, and 4 good legs; nine 
properties of a Foxe, nine of a Hare, nine of an Asse, and 
ten of a woman. 
Ateu. A woman ! why, what properties of a woman hath a Horse? 
Slip. O, maister, know you not that? Draw your tables, and 
write what wise I speake. First, a merry countenance ; second, 
a sort pace ; third, a broad forehead ; fourth, broad buttockes; 490 
fift, hard of warde ; sixt, easie to leape vpon; seuenth, good 
at long iourney ; eight, mouing vnder a man; ninth, always 
busie with the mouth; tenth, euer chewing on the bridle. 
Ateu. Thou art a man for me: whats thy naine? 
._çh. An auncient naine, sir, belonging to the chamber and the 49fi 
night gowne: gesse you that. 
461-ii29 Q2b»i»ts as verse 477 there am I a per se conj. 2Ilitfo»d 

Sc. II] 



Ateu. Whats that ? Sliper  
Slip. By my faith, well gest .; and so 'ris indeed. Youll be my 
maister ? 
Ateu. I meane so. oo 
Slip. Reade this first. 
Ateu. tYeaseth il any Gentleman fo entertaine a seruant of more 
wit then stature, let them subscribe, and atlendance shall be 
giuen. What of this ? 
Slip. He is my brother, sir ; and we two were borne togither, 505 
must serue togither, and will die togither, though we be both 
Ateu. Whats thy name ? 
2Vano. ]Vano. 
Ateu. The etimologie of which word is a dwarfe. Art hot 5to 
thou the old stoykes son that dwels in his Tombe ? 
Ambo. We are. 
Ateu. Thou art welcome to me. Wilt thou giue thy selfe 
wholly to be at my disposition ? 
2Vano. In ail humilitie I submit my selfe. 55 
Ateu. Then will I deck thee Princely, instruct thee Courtly, 
and present thee to the Queene as my giff. Art thou content ? 
2Vano. Yes, and thanke your honor too. 
Slip. Then welcome, brother, and follow now. 
Andr. (cominfomvard). May it please your honor to abase 520 
your eye so lowe as to looke either on my bill or my selfe. 
Ateu. What are you ? 
Andr. By birth a gentleman ; in profession a scholler ; and one 
that knew your honor in EdenborouKh, before your worthi- 
nesse cald you to this reputation : By me, Andrew Snoord. 525 
Ateu. Andrew, I remember thee: follow me, and we will 
confer further, for my waightie affaires for the King commands 
me to be briefe at this time.--Come on, Wano.--Slipper, 
Enter Sir Bartram, vit]z Eustas, and others, booted. 
Sr tar. But tell me, louely ustas, as thou lou'st me, 530 
Among the many pleasures we haue past, 
Which is the rifest in thy memorie, 
To draw thee ouer to thine auncient friend? 

ust. What makes sir Bartram thus inquisitiue ? 
Tell me, good knight, am I welcome or no ? 
Sir Bar. By sweet S(aint> Andrew and may sale I sweare, 
As welcom is my honest Z)ick to me 
As mornings sun, or as the watry moone 
In merkist night, when we the borders track. 
I tell thee, Z)ick, thy sight hath cleerd my thoughts 540 
Of many banefull troubles that there woond : 
Welcome to sir Bartram as his life! 
Tell me, bonny Z)icke, hast got a wife ? 
ust. A wife ? God shield, sir Bartram, that were ill, 
To leaue my wife and wander thus astray : 545 
But time and good aduise, ere many yeares, 
May chance to make my fancie bend that way. 
What newes in Scotland? therefore came I hither, 
To sec your Country and to chat togither. 
Sir Bar. Why, man, our Countries blyth, our King is 'ell, 55o 
Our Queene so-so, the Nobles well and worse, 
And weele are they that are about the King, 
But better are the Country Gentlemen. 
And I may tell thee, .Eustace, in our liues 
We old men neuer saw so wondrous change. 
But leaue this trattle, and tell me what newes 
In louely England with out honest friends ? 
2Yust. The King, the Court, and all out noble frends 
Are well; and God in mercy keepe them so! 
The Northren Lords and Ladies here abouts, 560 
That knowes I came to see your Queen and Court, 
Commends them to my honest friend sir Bartram, 
And many others that I haue hOt seen. 
Among the rest, the Countesse linor, 
From Carlile, v¢here we merry off haue bene, 565 
Greets well my Lord, and hath directed me 
]3y message this faire Ladies face to see. 
Sir Bar. I tell thee, ustace, lest mine old eyes daze, 
This is out Scottish moone and euenings pride ; 
This is the blemish of your English Bride. 570 
Who salles by her, are sure of winde at will ; 
• 86 Sec noies IJ52 that are] that were Q 64- Among... 
Carlile one line in Q 568 lest] 'less 13yce 


Her face is dangerous, her sight is ill; 
And yet, in sooth, sweet l)icke, it may be said, 
The King hath folly, there's vertue in the mayd. 
.ust. But knows my friend this portrait? be aduised. 
Sir Bar. Is it hOt da, the Countesse of Mrabt's daughters ? 
£ust. So was I told by .linor of Carlile: 
But tell me, louely Bartram, is the maid 
Euil inclind, lnisled or Concubine 
Vnto the King or any other Lord ? 580 
Sir Bar. Shuld I be brief & true, then thus, my 29icke. 
All Englands grounds yeelds not a blyther Lasse, 
Nor Euro2 can surpass her for her gifts 
Of vertue, honour, beautie, and the rest: 
But our fond King, hOt knowing sin in lust, 585 
Makes loue by endlesse meanes and precious gifts ; 
And men that see it dare hOt sayt, my friend, 
But wee may wish that it were otherwise. 
But I rid thee to view the picture still, 
For by the persons sights there hangs some iI1. 59 ° 
(Eusl.) Oh, good sir Barlram, you suspect I Ioue-- 
Then were I mad--her whom I neuer sawe. 
But how so ere, I feare not entisings ; 
Desire will giue no place vnto a King: 
Ile see her whom the world admires so much, 
That I may say with them, there liues none such. 
Sir Bar. Be Gad, and sal both see and talke with her ; 
And when th' hast done, what ere her beautie be, 
Ile warrant thee her vertues may compare 
With the proudest she that waits vpon your Queen. 600 
(Ser.) My Ladie intreats your Worship in to supper. 
Sir Bar. Guid, bony 1)ick, my wife will tel thee more: 
Was neuer no man in ber booke before ; 
]3e Gad, shees blyth, faire, lewely, bony, etc. 
Enter Bohan and the fairy Kin after the firsl acl : to lhem a rownd of 
Fairies, or some pritlie riante. 
Bob Be Gad, gramersis, little King, for this .: 605 
574 their's Q 583 surpass Dyce : art Q 590 sight Dyce some] 
from Q : som Grosart as iffrom Q 592 her] hee Q fi99 wartant Q 
1501 Q gives to Eust. 


This sport is better in my exile life 
Then euer the deceitfuil werld could yeeld. 
Ober. I tell thee, l]ohan, Oberon is King 
Of quiet, pleasure, profit, and content, 
Of wealth, of honor, and of all the world ; 
Tide to no place, yet all are tide to me. 
Liue thou [in] this lire, exilde from world and men, 
And I will shew thee wonders ere we part. 
/]oh. Then marke my story, and the strange doubts 
That follow flatterers, lust, and lawlesse will, 


then say I haue reason to forsake 
world and all that are within the saine. 
shrowd vs in our harbor, where weele see 
pride of folly, as it ought to be. 

Af ter the first act. 


Ober. Here see I good fond actions in thy gyg, 
And meanes to paint the worldes inconstant waies: 
But turne thine ene, see what I can commaund. 
Enler tzvo battailes, slronffly flffhlinff, lice one Semiramis, lhe olher 
Stabrobates : she flies, and ber Crowne is htken, and she hurl. 
toh. What gars this din of mirk and balefull harme, 
Where euery weane is all betaint with bloud? 
Ober. This shewes thee, tohan, what is worldly pompe: 
Simeramis, the proud Assirrian Queene, 
When Ninus died, did leuy in her warres 
Three millions of footemen to the fight, 
Fiue hundreth thousand horse, of armed chars 
A hundreth thousand more, yet in her pride 
Was hurt and conquered by Slabrobates. 
Then what is pompe? 
toh. I see thou art thine "i" ene +, 
Thou bonny King, if Princes fall from high: 
My fall is past, vntill I fall to die. 
Now marke my talke, and prosecute my D'g- 

611 me 19yce : one Q 613 wonters Q 614 story 19yce : stay Q 
doubts] debates sugg. lgyce 616-7 And . . . vorld one line in Q 
619 pride] prize sug. Z)yce 622 what 29yce : which for Q S.D. Semi- 
Ramis Q Staurobetes Q : corr. Dyce 631 S. Taurobates Q 


O3er. How shuld these crafts withdraw thee from the world? 
But looke, my ohan, pompe allureth. 
Ez/er Cirus, kinff(s) humblbtff lhcmselz¢es: kz'msdfe cro¢e,ned fiy 
"1" Oliue Pat +, : al la.ri dying, hzyde in a marbdl lombe wilh lhis 
inscription : 
Who so thou bee that passest (by), 
For I know one shall passe, knowe I 
Ana Cirus of )gersia, 
And I prithee leaue me not thus like a clod of clay 
Wherewith my body is couered. 
AI1 exeunL 


Enter lhe King in ffreal bombe, wko reads il, and issueth, oieth 
oh. What meaneth this ? 
O&r. Cirus of Persia, 
Mightie in life, within a marbell graue 
Was layde to rot ; whom Alexander once 
Beheld intombde, and weeping did confesse, 
Nothing in life could scape from wretchednesse: 
Why, then, boast tnen? 
oh. What recke I, then, of life, 
Who make the graue my home, the earth my wife? 
(Ober.) But marke mee lnore. 


Bob. I can no more; my latience will not warpe 
To see these flatterers how they scorne and carpe. 
Ober. Turne but thy head. 

Enter ( f )our Kin£s carr(y)inff O'owns, Ladies bresentinff odors 1o 
19otenlale in-lhrond, who suddainly is slaine by his seruaunts anti 
lhrusl oui; and so lhey eate. Exeu,«t. 
(Bob.) Sike is the werld ; but svhilke is he I sawe ? 
Ober. Sesoslris, who was conquerour of the werld, 
Slaine at the last and stampt on by his slaues. 
27oh. How blest are peur men, then, that know their graues! 660 
Now marke the sequell of my gig ; 

688 S. D. with Oliue and tgalm sugg. Grosart 
648 S. D. Ver matin sugg. Alitford: vermium sugg. Dyce 
home Collier : tombe Q 653 Q fo 5'ohan 
S.D. 29otentates Q 660 graue Q 

641 I ara Q 
652 makes Q 
655 flatteries Q 


+An he weele meete ends'l'. The mirk and sable night 
Doth leaue the pering morne to prie abroade ; 
Thou nill me stay: halle, then, thou pride of Kings! 
I ken the world, and wot well worldly things. 665 
Mirke thou my gyg, in mirkest termes that telles 
The loathe of sinnes and where corruption dwells. 
Haile me ne mere with showes of gudlie sights ; 
My graue is mine, that rids me of dispights ; 
Accept my gig, guid King, and let me rest ; 670 
The graue with guid men is a gay built nest. 
Ober. The rising sun doth call me hence away: 
Thanks for thy jig, I may no longer stay: 
But if my train did wake thee from thy test 
So shall they sing thy lullaby to nest. 675 

lnter the Countesse of Arrain with Ida ber dauffhter in lheyr orch, 
$illitff al worke. 
.,4 Son, ff. 
Count. Faire Ida, might you chuse the greatest good, 
Midst ail the world in blessings that abound, 
Wherein, my daughter, shuld your liking be ? 
]da. Not in delights, or pompe, or maiestie. 
CounL And why ? 
1da. Since these are meanes to draw the minde 6So 
From perfect good, and make true iudgement blind. 
CounL Might you haue wealth and fortunes ritchest store? 
Jda. Yet would I, (might I chuse,) be honest poore: 
For she that sits at fortunes feete alowe 
Is sure she shall not taste a further woe, 6S5 
But those that prancke on top of fortunes ball 
Still feare a change, and fearing, catch a fall. 
Count. Tut, foolish maide, each one contemneth need. 
da. Good reason why, they know not good indeed. 
Counl. Many, marrie, then, on whom distresse doth loure. 690 
]da. Yes, they that vertue deeme an honest dowre. 
662 Q refixes Boit. 669 of] from Z)yce apM Grosart as if from Q 
686 on] one Q 

Sc I] 


Madame, by right this world I may compare 
Vnto lly worke, wherein with heedfull care 
The heauenly workeman plants with curious hand, 
As I with needle drawe each thing on land, 
Euen as hee list: some men like to the Rose 
Are fashioned fresh; some in their stalkes do close, 
And, borne, do suddaine die; some are but weeds, 
And yet from them a secret good proceeds: 
I with my needle, if I please, may blot 
The fairest rose within my cambricke plot; 
God with a becke can change each worldly thing, 
The poore to earth, the begger to the King. 
What, then, hath man wherein hee well may boast, 
Since by a becke he liues, a louer is lost ? 

t?n/er Eustace evith le/lers. 

CounL Peace, Ida, heere are straungers neare at hand. 
lust. Madame, God speed! 
Count. I thanke you, gentle squire. 
EusL The countrie Cuntesse of A7orlhumberland 
Doth greete you well; and hath requested mee 
To bring these letters to your Ladiship. 
He carries the ldter(s). 
CounL I thanke her honour, and your selfe, my friend. 
Shee receiues and îheruseth them. 
I see she meanes you good, braue gentleman.-- 
Daughter, the Ladie Elinor salutes 
Your selfe as well as mee: then for her sake 
'Twere good you entertaind that Courtiour well. 
Ida. As much salure as may become my sex, 
And hee in vertue can vouchsafe to thinke, 
I yeeld him for the courteous Countesse sake.'- 
Good sir, sit downe: my mother heere and I 
Count time mispent on endlesse vanitie. 
EusL Beyond report, the wit, the faire, the shape !-- 
What worke you heere, faire Mistresse ? may I see it 
Ida. Good Sir, looke on: how like you this compact ? 
Eust. Me thinks in this I see true loue in act: 







695 on] one Q 703 earth] rich Dyce 


The Woodbines with their leaues do sweetly spred, 
The Roses blushing prancke them in their red ; 
No flower but boasts the beauties of the spring; 
This bird hath life indeed, if it could sing.-- 
XVhat meanes, faire Mistres, had you iii this worke ? 730 
.[da. My needle, sir. 
.Eust. In needles, then, there lurkes 
Some hidden grace, I deeme, beyond my reach. 
.[da. Not grace in them, good sir, but those that teach. 
ust. Say that your needle now were Cupids sting,-- 
But, ah, her eie must bee no lesse, 
In which is heauen and heauenlinesse, 
In which the foode of Goal is shut, 
Whose powers the purest mindes do glut! 
.[da. What if it were ? 740 
.Eust. Then see a wondrous thing; 
I feare mee you would paint in :Tereus heart 
Affection in his power and chiefest part. 
lda. Good Lord, sir, no! for hearts but pricked sort 
Are wounded sore, for so I heare it oft. 745 
ust. What recks the wound, where but your happy eye 
May make him liue whom .[oue hath iudged to die ? 
.[da. Should life and death within this needle lurke, 
Ile pricke no hearts, Ile pricke vpon my worke. 
Lnter Ateukin, with Slipper t/te Clowne. 
CounL Peace, lda, I perceiue the fox at hand. 75 ° 
.EusL The fox! why, fetch your hounds, & chace him hence. 
Cou»zl. Oh, sir, these great men barke at small offence. 
Corne, please you enter, gentle sir ? 
Offer fo exeunt. 
Ateu. Stay, courteous Ladies; fauour me so much 
As to discourse a word or two apart. 
CoutzL Good sir, my daughter learnes this rule of mee, 
To shun resort and straungers companie ; 
For some are shifting mates that carrie letters, 
Some, such as you, too good because our betters. 
Slip. Now, I pray you, sir, what akin are you to a pickrell ? 760 

742 Teneus Q 74B parts Q 746 wound] second Q where . . . eye 
seiarate line in Q 753 Q giz, es fo Ateu. please you to enter Q 


Ateu. Why, knaue ? 
Slip. By my troth, sir, because I neuer knew a proper scitua- 
tion fellow of your pitch fitter to swallow a gudgin. 
,4teu. What meanst thou by this ? 
Slip. Shifting fellow, sir,--these be thy words; shifting fellow: 76. 
this gentlewoman, I feare me, knew your bringing vp. 
Ateu. How so ? 
Sl. Why, sir, your father was a Millet, that could shift for 
a pecke of grist in a bushell, and you a faire spoken gentle- 
man, that can get more land by a lye then an honest man_77 o 
by his readie mony. 
./lieu. Catiue, what sayest thou ? 
Sli. I say, sir, that if she call you shifting knaue, you shall 
not put her to the proofe. 
lteu. And why ? 775 
Slip. Because, sir, liuing by your wit as you doo, shifting is 
your letters pattents: it were a hard matter for mee to get 
my dinner that day wherein my Maister had not solde a doze,x 
of deuices, a case of cogges, and a shute of shifts, in the 
morning. I speak this in your commendation, sir, &, I pray ï8o 
you, so take it. 
Ateu. If I liue, knaue, I will bee reuenged. What gentleman 
would entertaine a rascall thus to derogate from his honour ? 
( teats him.) 
Ida. My Lord, why are you thus impatient ? 
Ateu. Not angrie, Ida ; but I teach this knaue 785 
How to behaue himselfe anaong his betters.-- 
]3ehold, faire Countesse, to assure your stay, 
I heere present the signet of the King, 
Who now by mee, faire lda, doth salute you. 
And since in secret I haue certaine things 79 ° 
In his behalfe, good Madame, to impart, 
I craue your daughter to discourse apart. 
Courir. Shee shall in humble dutie bee addrest 
To do his Highnesse will in what shee may. 
Ida. Now, gentle s/r, what would his Grace with me? 795 
Ateu. Faire, comely Nimph, the beautie of your face, 
Sufficient to bewitch the heauenly powers, 
Hath wrought so much in him, that now of late 
764-74 Q rints as verse 779 cogges D3,ce: dogges Q 


Hee findes himselfe made captiue vnto loue ; 
And though his power and Maiestie requires 
A straight commaund belote an humble sure, 
Yet hee his mightinesse doth so abase 
As to intreat your fauour, honest maid. 
1da. Is hee not married, sir, vnto out Queen ? 
lteu. Hee is. 
Ida. And are not they by God accurst, 
That seuer them whoin hee hath knit in one? 
tteu. They bee: what then? we seecke not to displace 
The Princesse from her seate, but, since by loue 
The King is ruade your owne, hee is resolude 
In priuate to accept your dalliance, 
In spighte of warre, (or) watch, or worldly eye. 
)'da. Oh, how hee talkes, as if hee should not die! 
As if that God in iustice once could winke 
Vpon that fault I am asham'd to thinke. 
4teu. Tut, Mistresse, man at first was born to erre ; 
Women are all not formed to bee Saints: 
Tis impious for to kill out natiue King, 
Whom by a little fauour wee may saue. 
]da. Better, then liue vnchaste, to liue in graue. 
lteu. Hee shall erect your state, & wed you well. 
da. But can his warrant keep my soule from hell ? 
Ateu. He will inforce, if you resist his sute. 
Ida. What tho, the world may shame to him account, 
To bee a King of men and worldly pelfe, 
Yet hath no power to rule and guide him selfe. 
(Ateu.) I know you, gentle Ladie, and the care 
Both of your honour and his Graces health 
Makes me confused in this daungerous state. 
Ida. So counsell him, but sooth thou hot his sinne: 
Tis vaine alurement that doth make him loue; 
I shame to heare, bee you ashamde to mooue. 
CoetnL I see my daughter growes impatient: 
I feare me, hee pretends some bad intent. 
Ateu. Will you dispise the King & scorne him so? 
Ida. In all alleageance I will serue lais Grace, 
But hOt in lust: oh, how I blush to naine it! 
810 hee] shee Q 826 Q give« fo Ate,t. to power no rttle Q 

A[eu. (aside). An endlesse worke is this: how should I 
frame it ? 
They discourse briuately. 
Slit. Oh, Mistresse, may I turne a word vpon you ? 840 
Courir. Friend, what wilt thou? 
Slip. Oh, what a happie gentlewoman bee you trulie! the 
world reports this of you, Mistresse, that a man can no 
sooner corne to your house but the ]3utler cornes with a 
blacke Iack and sayes, 'Welcome, friend, heeres a cup of the 845 
best for you': verilie, lXlistresse, you are said to haue the 
best Aie in al Scotland. 
Count. Sirrha, go fetch him drinke. How likest thou this ? 
Slip. Like it, Mistresse! why, this is quincy quarie pepper de 
watchet, single goby, of ail that euer I tasted. Ile prooue S5o 
in this Ale and tost the compasse of the whole world. 
First, this is the earth, it lies in the middle, a faire browne 
tost, a goodly countrie for hungrie teeth to dwell vpon ; 
next, this is the Sea, a fair poole for a drie tongue to fish 
in: now come I, & seing the world is naught, I diuide it 
thus; & because the sea cannot stand without the earth, as 
Arist(otle) saith, I put them both into their first Chaos, 
which is my bellie: and so, Mistresse, you may see your aie 
is become a myracle. 
W.ust. A merrie mate, Madalne, I promise you. 860 
CounL Why sigh you, sirrah ? 
Slip. Trulie, Madam, to think vppon the world, which, since 
I denounced it, keepes such a rumbling in my stomack, 
that vnlesse your Cooke giue it a counterbuffe with some of 
your rosted capons or beefe, I feere me I shal become865 
a loose body, so daintie, I thinke, I shall neither hold fast 
before nor behinde. 
Count. Go take him in, and feast this merrie swaine.-- 
Syrrha, my cooke is your phisitian 
He bath a purge for to disiest the world. 870 
( Ez'eunl Slipper and seruant.) 
,4feu. Will you not, rda, grant his highnesse this ? 
1da. As I haue said, in dutie I am his: 
For other lawlesse lusts that iii beseeme him, 
I cannot like, and good I will not deeme him. 
840 Qgives to Ateu. 852 lies] ties Q 




CounL )'da, corne in :--and, sir, if so you please, 
Corne, take a homelie widdowes intertaine. 
Ida. If he haue no great baste, he may corne nye ; 
If haste, tho' he be gone, I will not crie. 
Ateu. I see this labour lost, my hope in vaine; 
Yet will I trie an other drift againe. 


( Exit. ) 

(ScENE II.) 
tFnler the tishop of S. Andrewes, Earle Douglas, Morton, wt'th 
oth¢rs, one wa.y ; the Queene with Dwarfe, an other wa.y. 
B. S. lndr. Oh wrack of Common weale! oh wretched state! 
29oug. Oh haplesse flocke whereas the guide is blinde! 
They ai1 are in a muse. 
[ort. Oh heedlesse youth where counsaile is dispis'dt 
29or. Corne, prettie knaue, and prank it by my side: 
Lets see your best attendaunce out of hande. 
19warfe. Madame, altho my liras are very small, 
My heart is good; ile serue you there withall. 
29or. How, if I were assaild, what couldst thou do ? 
29warfi. Madame, call helpe, and boldly fight it to: 
Altho a Bee be but a little thing, 
You know, faire Queen, it hath a bitter sting. 
29or. How couldst thou do me good, were I in greefe? 
29warfe. Counsell, deare Princes(se), is a choyce releefe: 
Tho _Arestor wanted force, great was his wit, 
And tho I am but weake, my words are fit. 
. S. Andr. Like to a ship vpon the Ocean seas, 
Tost in the doubtfull streame, without a helme, 
Such is a Monarke without good aduice. 
I ara oreheard: cast raine vpon thy tongue; 
Andreu,es, beware; reproofe will breed a scar. 
Mort. Good day, my Lord. 
. S. Andr. Lord _/][orlat, well ymet.-- 
Whereon deemes Lord 29ouglas ail this vhile? 
29oug. Of that which yours and my poore heart doth breake, 
Altho feare shuts our mouths, we dare not speake. 
29or. What meane these Princes sadly to consult? 

880 S. D. Dwarfes Q 

Sc. II] 


Somewhat, I feare, betideth them amisse. 
They are so pale in lookes, so vext in minde,-- 
In happie houre, ye Noble Scottish Peeres, 
Haue I incountred you: what makes you mourne? 
1. S..4ndr. If we with patience may attention gaine, 
Your grace shall know the cause of all out griefe. 
])or. Speake on, good father, corne and sit by me: 
I know thy care is for the common good. 
1. S..4ndr. As fortune, mightie Princes(se), reareth some 
To high estate and place in Commonweale, 
So by diuine bequest to them is lent 
A riper iudgement and more searching eye, 
Whereby they may discerne the common harme ; 
For where out fortunes in the world are most, 
Where all our rofits fise and still increase, 
There is out minde, thereon we meditate, 
And what we do partake of good aduice, 
That we imploy for to concerne the saine. 
To this intent, these nobles and my selfe, 
That are, (or should bee,) eyes of common weale, 
Seeing his highnesse reachlesse course of youth, 
His lawelesse and vnbridled vaine in loue, 
His to(o) intentiue trust to flatterers, 
ttis abject care of councell and his friendes, 
Cannot but greeue; and since we cannot drawe 
His eye or iudgement to discerne his faults, 
Since we haue spake and counsaile is not heard, 
I, for my part,--(let others as they list l) 
Will leaue the Court, and leaue him to his will, 
Least with a ruthfull eye I should behold 
His ouerthrow, which, sore I feare, is nye. 
])or. Ah father, are you so estranged from loue, 
From due alleageance to your Prince and land, 
To leaue your King when most he needs your help? 
The thriftie husbandmen are neuer woont, 
That see their lands vnfruitfull, to forsake them ; 
But when the mould is barraine and vnapt, 
They toyle, they plow, and make the fallow latte: 

909 ye] the Q 911 attentiue Q 
tunes Q 9"29 to... too Q 


910 ' 



93 ° 



920 our fortunes Collier : impor- 


The pilot in the dangerous seas is knowne: 
In calmer waues the sillie sailor striues. 
Are you hOt members, Lords, of Common-weale, 
And can your head, your deere annointed King, 
Default, ye Lords, except your selues do faile ? 
Oh, stay your steps, returne, & counsaile h/m! 
/o»g. Then seek hOt mosse vpon a rowling stone, 
Or water from the siue, or tire from yce, 
Or conffort from a rechlesse monarkes hands. 
Madame, he sets vs light that seru'd in Court, 
In place of credit, in his fathers dayes ; 
If we but enter presence of his grace, 
Our payment is a frowne, a scoffe, a frumpe; 
Whilst flattering Gnat@) prancks it by his side, 
Soothing the carelesse King in his misdeeds: 
And if your grace consider your estate, 
His life should vrge you too, if all be true. 
Dot. Why, 1)ougIas, why ? 
1)oug. As if you haue hot heard 
His lawlesse loue to Zda growne of late, 
His carelesse estimate of your estate. 
29or. Ah, 29ouglas, thou misconstrest his intent! 
He doth but tempt his wife, he tryes my loue: 
This iniurie pertaines to me, hot you. 
The King is young ; and if he step awrie, 
He may amend, and I will loue him still. 
Should we disdaine our vines because they sprout 
Before their time? or young men, if they straine 
Beyond their reach ? no; vines that bloome and spread 
I)o promise fruites, and young men that are wilde 
In age growe wise. My freendes and Scottish Peeres, 
If that an English Princesse may preuaile, 
Stay, stay with him: lo, how my zealous prayer 
Is plead with teares! fie, Peeres, will you hence? 
t3. S. tndr. Madam, tis verrue in your grace to plead; 
But we, that see his vaine vntoward course, 
Cannot but flie the tire before it burne, 
And shun the Court before we see his fall. 
Z)or. Wil you not stay ? then, Lordings, fare you well. 
962 l)or.] Doug. Q 968 hot to you Q 








Tho you forsake your King, the heauens, I hope, 
XVill fauour him through lnine incessant prayer. 985 
Z)warfe. Content you, Madam ; thus old O«id sings, 
Tis foolish to bewaile recurelesse things. 
Z)or. Peace, Dwarffe ; these words my patience moue. 
Z).warfe. All tho you charme my speech, charme not my loue. 
£xeunl Nano (and) Dorothea. 
Enter lke King of Scots, [Arius], the nobles s2byin  him returnes. 
A: of cots. Z)ouKlas , how now ! why changest thou thy cheere ? 99 o 
1)oug. My priuate troubles are so great, my liege, 
As I must craue your licence for a while, 
For to intend mine owne affaires at home. 
lt: of Scots. You may depart. (Exil Do«g.) But why is 
A[orlon sad ? 995 
3lori. The like occasion doth import me too, 
So I desire your grace to giue me leaue. 
Ix: ofScots. Well, sir, you may betake you to your ease. 
When such grim syrs are gone, I see no let 
To worke my will. ooo 
. S. Andr. What, like the Eagle, then, 
With often flight wilt thou thy feathers loose ? 
0 King, canst thou indure to see thy Court, 
Of finest wits and iudgements dispossest, 
Whilst cloking craft with soothing climbes so high oo5 
As each bewailes ambition is so bad? 
Thy father left thee, with estate and Crowne, 
A learned councell to direct thy course: 
These careleslie, O King, thou castest off, 
To entertaine a traine of Sicophants. oJo 
Thou well mai'st see, although thou wilt hOt see, 
That euery eye and eare both sees and heares 
The certaine signes of thine incontinence. 
Thou art alyed vnto the English King 
13y marriage; a happie friend indeed, 5 
If vsed well, if not, a mightie foe. 
Thinketh your grace, he can indure and brooke 
To haue a partner in his daughters loue? 
Thinketh your grace, the grudge of priuie wrongs 
99 Q makes Exit afler 993 1001 Mllen. Q 1008 Court Q 
1013 inconstinence Q 

Will not procure him chaunge his smiles to threats? ioc 
Oh, be hOt blinde to good! call home your Lordes, 
Displace these flattering Gnat(h)oes, driue them hence; 
Loue and with kindnesse take your wedlocke wife; 
Or else, (which God forbid,) I feare a change: 
Sinne cannot thriue in Courts without a plague. 
K. of Scots. Go pack thou too, vnles thou mend thy talk: 
On paine of death, proud Bishop, get you gone, 
Vnlesse you headlesse mean to hoppe away. 
B. S. Andr. Thou God of heauen preuent my countries fall. 
A'. ofScots. These staies and lets to pleasure plague my thoughts, 
Forcing my greeuous wounds anew to bleed: 
But care that hath transported me so farre, 
Faire Ida, is disperst in thought of thee, 
Whose answere yeeldes me lire or breeds my death. 
Yond cornes the messenger of weale or woe. 
Enter Ateukin. 
Ateukin, what news ? 
Ateu. The adament, o king, will not be tilde 
But by it selfe, and beautie that exceeds 
]3y some ex(c)eeding fauour must be wrought. 
Ida is coy as yet, and doth repine, iO4 
Obiecting marriage, honour, feare, and death: 
Shee's holy, wise, and too precise for me. 
Ix'. of Scots. Are these thy fruites of wit, thy sight in Art, 
Thine eloquence, thy pollicie, thy drift,-- 
To mocke thy Prince? Then, catiue, packe thee hence, lO4 
And let me die deuoured in my loue. 
Al eu. Good Lord, how rage gainsayeth reasons power! 
My deare, my gracious, and beloued Prince, 
The essence of my soule, my God on earth, 
Sit downe and rest your selfe: appease your wrath, 
Least with a frowne yee wound me to the death. 
Oh, that I were included in my graue, 
That eyther now, to saue my Princes lire, 
Must counsell crueltie, or loose my King! 
Ix: of Scots. Why, sirrha, is there meanes to moue her minde ? 
S. D. Atten. Q 1036 Ateukin] Gnato Q 10t8 wits Q 1019 soule 
Collier : sute Q 

Ateu. Oh, should I hOt offend my royall liege,-- 
I'. of Scots. Tell all, spare nought, so I may gaine rny loue. 
Ateu. Alasse, my soule, why art thou torne in twaine, 
For feare thou talke a thing that should displease! 
I: of Scots. Tut, speak what so thou wilt, I pardon thee. o6o 
Ateu. How kinde a word, how courteous is his grace! 
Who would not die to succour such a King? 
My liege, this louely mayde of rnodest rninde, 
Could well incline to loue, but that shee feares 
Faire Z)orotheas power: your grace doth know, lO6 5 
Your wedlocke is a mightie let to loue. 
Were -[da sure to bee your wedded wife, 
That then the t,yig would bowe you might command: 
Imdies loue presents, pompe, and high estate. 
ç'. of Scots. Ah, Ateukin, how should we displace this let ? 
Ateu. Tut, rnightie Prince,--oh, that I rnight bee whist! 
ç'. of Scots. Why dalliest thou ? 
Aleu. I will hot mooue my Prince ; 
I will preferre his safetie before my lire. 
Heare rnee, 6 King! ris A)orotheas death 
iust do you good. 
K. of Scots. What, rnurther of my Queene! 
Yet, to enioy rny loue, what is my Queene ? 
Oh, but my vowe and promise to my Queene! 
I, but my hope to gaine a fairer Queene: IO80 
Vith how contrarious thoughts ara I withdrawne! 
Why linger I twixt hope and doubtfull feare ? 
If Z)orothe(a) die, will _[da loue? 
Aleu. Shee will, rny Lord. 
'. of Scots. Then let ber die: oS 
Deuise, aduise the meanes; 
Al likes me well that lends me hope in loue. 
Ateu. What, will your grace consent ? Then let rnee worke. 
Theres heere in Court a Frenchrnan, -[«ues calde, 
A fit performer of our enterprise, io9o 
Whom I by gifts and promise will corrupt 
To slaye the Queene, so that your grace will seale 
A warrant for the man, to saue his life. 
If'. of Scots. Nought shall he want ; write thou, and I wil signe : 
lOîO displace D)ce: display Q 


And, gentle Gnat(h)o, if my Ida yeelde, 
Thou shalt haue what thou wilt; Ile giue the(e) straight 
A Barrony, an Earledome for reward. 
Ateu. Frolicke, young King, the Lasse shall bee your owne: 
Ile make her blyth and wanton by my wit. 
Enler Bohan wilh Obiron. 


(Introduction to) 3. Act. 
Bob. So, Oberon, now it beginnes to worke in kinde. cc 
Thc auncicnt Lords by Icauing him alonc, 
Disliking of his humors and dcspight, 
Lets him run headlong, till his flatterers, 
Soficiting his thoughts of lucklcssc lust 
Vith vile perswations and alluring words, IIO s 
Makcs him makc way by murthcr to his will. 
Iudge, fairie King, hast heard a greater ill ? 
Ober. Nor seen more vertue in a countrie mayd. 
I tell the(e), Bohan, it doth make me sorry, 
To thinke the deeds the King meanes to performe. IIIO 
Bob. To change that hulnour, stand & see the rest: 
I trow my sonne SliAer will shew's a lest. 
Enter Slipper with a comflanion, boy, or wench, dauncin a horn- 
lbie, and daunce out againe. 
Bob. Now after this beguiling of our thoughts, 
And changing them from sad to better glee, 
Lets to our sell, and sit & see the rest, illS 
For, I beleeue, this Iig will prooue no lest. 

Enter Slipper one way, and S(ir) Bartram another way. 
Sir Bar. Ho, fellow ! stay, and let me speake with thee. 
Slip. Fellow! frend, thou doest disbuse me; I ara a Gentleman. 
Sir Bar. A Gentleman! how so? 
Slip. Why, I rub horses, sir. 
Sir Bar. And what of that ? 
Slip. Oh simple witted! marke my reason. They that do 
II01 alone Dyce: aliue Q II02 respight Q II04 Soliciting IValher: 
Sweeting Q 1108 seen Dyce : send Q 1109 sorry Dyce : merrie Q 
1112 shewes Q S.D. boy] bog Q 1116 S.D. Chorus .4ctus Q 



good seruice in the Common-weale are Gentlemen; but 
such as tub horses do good seruice in the Common-weale ; 
Ergo, tarbox, Maister Courtier, a Horse-keeper is a 
Sir.Bar. Heere is ouermuch wit, in good earnest. But, sirrha, 
where is thy Maister ? 
Slip. Neither aboue ground nor vnder ground, drawing out red 
into white, swallowing that downe without chawing that was 
neuer ruade without treading. 
Sir.Bar. XVhy, where is hee, then? 
Slip. Why, in his seller, drinking a cup of neate and briske 
claret, in a boule of siluer. Oh, sir, the wine runnes trillill 
down his throat, which cost the poore vintner many a 
stampe belote it was ruade. But I must hence, sir, I haue 
Sir .Bar. Why, whither now, I prithee ? 
Slip. Faith, sir, to Sir Siluester, a Knight, hard by, vppon my 
Maisters Arrand, whom I must certifie this, that the lease 
of 2(a)st Sring shall bec confirmed; and therefore must 
I bid him prouide trash, for lny Maister is no friend 
without mony. 
Sir .Bar. This is the thing for which I sued so long, 
This is the lease which I, by Gnat(/t)oes meanes, 
Sought to possesse by partent from the King 
But hec, iniurious man, who liues by crafts, 
And selles Kings fauours for who will giue most, 
Hath taken bribes of mee, yet couertly 
Will sell away the thing pertaines to mee: ii5o 
But I haue found a present helpe, I hope, 
For to preuent his purpose and deceit.-- 
Stay, gentle friend. 
Slip. A good word; thou haste won me: this word is like a 
warme caudle to a colde stomacke. 
Sir .Bar. Sirra, wilt thou, for mony and reward, 
Conuay me certaine letters, out of hand, 
From out thy maisters pocket? 
Slip. Will I, sir? why, were it .to rob my father, hang my 
mother, or any such like trifles, I ara at your commaunde-6o 
ment, sir. What will you giue me, sir ? 

1185 vintnerd (2 1155 candle (2 


Sir/5"af. A hundreth pounds. 
Slip. I am your man: giue me earnest. I am dead at 
a pocket, sir ; why, I am a lifter, maister, by my occupation. 
Sir/5"ar. A liffer! what is that ? 1165 
Sh'p. Why, sir, I can lift a pot as well as any man, and 
picke a purse as soone as any theefe in my countrie. 
Sir Tar. Why, fellow, hold; heere is earnest, ten pound to 
assure thee. Go, dispatch, and bring it me to yonder 
Tauerne thou seest; and assure thy selfe, thou shalt both i7o 
haue thy skin full of wine, and the test of thy mony. 
Slil. I will, sir.--Now roome for a gentleman, my maisters! 
who giues mee mony for a faire new Angell, a trimme new 
Angell ? 

ïnler Andrew an Purueyer. 
/ur. Sirrha, I must needes haue your Maisters horses: the 
King cannot bee vnserued. 
And. Sirrha, you must needs go without them, because my 
Maister must be serued. 
Z'ur. Why, I ara the Kings Purueyer, and I tell thee I will 
haue them.  
And. I ana Ateukins seruant, Signior Andrew, and I say, thou 
shalt not haue them. 
/-'ur. Heeres my ticket, denie it if thou darst. 
And. There is the stable, fetch theln out if thou darst. 
tltr. Sirrha, sirrha, tame your tongue, least I make you. ia85 
And. Sirrha, sirrha, hold your hand, least I bum you. 
Ih«r. I tell thee, thy Maisters geldings are good, and therefore 
fit for the King. 
And. I tell thee, my Maisters horses haue gald backes, and 
therefore cannot fit the King. Purueyr, Purueyer, puruey thee ii9 o 
of more wit: darst thou presume to wrong my Lord Ateukin, 
being the chiefest man in Court ? 
/ur. The more vnhappie Common-weale where flatterers are 
chiefe in Court. 
And. What sayest thou ? ii95 
'«r. I say thou art too presumptuous, and the officers shall 
schoole thee. 
1191 Ateukins Q 

And. A figge for them and thee, Purueyer ! They seeke a knot 
in a ring that would wrong my maister or his seruants in 
this Court. 2oo 
Emer laques. 
.Pur. The world is ata wise passe when Nobilitie is afraid of 
a flatterer. 
2b¢. Sirrha, what be you that parley co»tre 3[onsieur my 
Lord Ateukin ? en bonne foy, prate you against syr Altesse, 
mee maka your test to leap from your shoulders, per ma foy 
And. Oh, signior Captaine, you shewe your selfe a forward and 
friendly gentleman in my Maisters behalfe: I will cause him 
to thanke you. 
Ia¢. _Poultron, speake me one parola against my ho» Gentil- 
fiome, I shal estampe your guttes, and thumpe your backa, 
that you no poynt mannage this terme ours. 
.Pur. Sirrha, corne open me the stable, and let mee haue the 
horses and, fellow, for ail your French bragges, I will doo 
my dutie, t2t5 
And. Ile make garters of thy guttes, thou villaine, if thou enter 
this office. 
Ia¢. WIort Dieu, take me that cappa pour vostre labeur ; be 
gonne, villein, in the »tort. 
.Pur. What, will you resist mee, then? Well, the Councell, 
fellow, shall know of your insolency. 
]xit (Purueyer and laques). 
And. Tell them what thou wilt, and eate that I can best 
spare from my backe partes, and get you gone with a 
Enter Ateukin. 
Ateu. Andrew. 
And. Sir ? 
Ateu. Where be my writings I put in my pocket last night? 
And. Which, sir? your anno(t)ations vpon Machiauel ? 
Ateu. No, sir; the letters pattents for East Spring. 
And. Why, sir, you talk wonders to me, if you ask that question, i 
Ateu. Yea, sir, and wil work wonders too with you, vnlesse 
1206 cyfere te Q 1211 estrampe Q 1218 »tort lieu Q nostre Q 
1224 S.D. Gnato Q 1228 blatchauell Q 1231 with] which Q 

you finde them out : villaine, search me them out, and bring 
them me, or thou art but dead. 
.dJzd. A terrible word in the latter end of a sessions. Master, 
were you in your right wits yesternight ? 
.4teu. Doest thou doubt it ? 
And. I, and why not, sir ? for the greatest Clarkes are not the 
wisest, and a foole may dance in a hood, as wel as a wise 
man in a bare froSk: besides, such as giue themselues to 
_Philautia as you do, Maister, are so cholericke of complection i24o 
that that which they burne in tire ouer night they seeke for 
with furie the next morning. Ah, I take care ofyour worship 
this Common-weale should haue a great losse of so good a 
member as you are. 
Ateu. Thou flatterest me. 
And. Is it flatterie in me, sir, to speake you faire ? What is 
it, then, in you to dallie with the King? 
Ateu. Are you prating, knaue ? I will teach you better nurture. 
Is this the care you haue of my wardrop, of my accounts, 
and matters of trust? 
.dnd. Why, alasse, sir, in rimes past your garments haue beene 
so well inhabited as your Tenants woulde giue no place to 
a Moathe to mangle them ; but since you are growne greater, 
and your garments more fine and gaye, if your garments are 
hot fit for hospitallitie, blame your pride and commend my 
cleanlinesse: as for your writings, I ana hOt for them, nor 
they for mee. 
Ateu. Villaine, go flie, finde them out: if thou loosest them, 
thou loosest my credit. 
And. Alasse, sir, can I loose that you neuer had ? a6o 
A/eu. Say ),ou so ? then hold, feel you that you neuer felt. 
(Beals him. 
{Re-enter Iaques.) 
Iaq. Oh Monsieur, ayez ialience: pardon your pauure valet: 
me bee at your commaundement. 
4leu. Signior laques, wel met ; you shall commaund me.--Sirra, 
go cause my writings be proclaimed in the Market place; .6 
promise a great reward to them that findes them : looke where 
I supt and euery where. 
And. I will, sir.--How are two knaues well met, and three 
1240 th[lautia Collier: tYulantia Q 1262 aies patient.., ponnre vallet Q 

well parted: if you conceiue mine enigma, gentlemen, what 
shal I bee, then? faith, a plaine harpe shilling. 
Ateu. Sieur Za¢ues, this our happy meeting priues 
Your friends and me, of care and greeuous toyle ; 
For I that look into deserts of men, 
And see among the souldiers in this Court 
A noble forward minde, and iudge thereof, I275 
Cannot but seeke the meanes to raise them vp 
Who merrit credite in the Common-weale. 
To this intent, friend tque(s), I haue round 
A meanes to make you great, and well esteemd 
Both with the King and with the best in Court; 
For I espie in you a valiant minde, 
Which makes mee loue, admire, and honour you. 
To this intent, (if so your trust and faith, 
Your secrecie be equall with your force,) 
I will impart a seruice to thy selfe, 2s5 
Which if thou doest effect, the King, my selle, 
And what or hee, and I with him, can worke, 
Shall be imployd in what thou wilt desire. 
Z«q. Me sweara by my ten bones, my singniar, to be loyal 
to your Lordships intents, affaires: ye(a), my monseigneur, 29 o 
çue non feraLie .pour your pleasure ? By my sworda, me be 
no babillard. 
Ateu. Then hoping on thy truth, I prithe see 
How kinde Ateukin is to forward thee. 
Hold, take this earnest pennie of my loue, 
And marke my words ; the King, by me, requires 
No slender seruice, Zaques, at thy hands. 
Thou must by priuie practise make away 
The Queene, faire Z)orottzea, as she sleepes, 
Or how thou wilt, so she be done to death : 
Thou shalt hot want promotion heare in Court. 
Iaq. Stabba the woman! .per ma foy, monsignieur, me thrusta 
my weapon into her belle, so me may be gard par le roy. 
Mee do your seruice. But me no be hanged £our my labor? 
Ateu. Thou shalt haue warrant, ques, from the King: I3o5 
1270 iExeunt Q 1271 priues] hides Q: hinders Dyce 1290 ye my 
monsignieur, qui non fera ic pour yea Q 1°,292 babillard yce : babie Lords Q 
1293 on] one Q 1294, thee] me Q 1302 fier Q 1304, pur Q 


None shall outface, gainsay, and wrong my friend. 
I)o not I loue thee, Ia¢ues? feare not, then: 
I tell thee, who so toucheth thee in ought 
Shall iniure me: I loue, I tender thee: 
Thou art a subiect fit to serue his grace. 
Ia¢ues, I had a written warrant once, 
But that by great misfortune late is lost. 
Come, wend we to S. Andrewes, where his grace 
Is now in progresse, where he shall assure 
Thy safetie, and confirme thee to the act. 
Iaq. We will attend your noblenesse. 



Enter Sir Bartram, Dorothea the Queene, Nano, Lord Ross, Ladies, 
Dor. Thy credite, Bartram, in the Scottish Court, 
Thy reuerend yeares, the stricknesse of thy vowes, 
AIl these are meanes sufficient to perswade; 
But loue, the faithfull lincke of loyall hearts, I320 
That bath possession of my constant minde, 
Exiles all dread, subdueth vaine suspect. 
Me thinks no craft should harbour in that brest 
Where Maiestie and verrue is instaled: 
Me thinks my beautie should hOt cause my death. 
Sir Bar. How gladly, soueraigne Princesse, would I erre, 
And binde my shame to saue your royall life! 
Tis Princely in your selle to thinke the best, 
To hope his grace is guiltlesse of this crime: 
But if in due preuention you default, 
How blinde are you that were forwarnd before.t 
Dor. Suspition without cause deserueth blame. 
Sir Bar. Who see, and shunne hot, harmes, deserue the saine. 
]3eholde the tenor of this traiterous plot. 
Dor. What should I reade ? Perhappes he wrote it not. 
Sir Bar. Heere is his warrant, vnder seale and signe, 
To laques, borne in 'rance, to murther you. 
Dor. Ah carelesse King, would God this were not thine! 
What tho I reade? Ah, should I thinke it true? 

1822 supect Q 1825 Me thinke Q 1327 binde] find sugg. 19yce : 
bide sugg. Grosart 1838 sees Q 

Sc. III] 


Ross. The hand and seale confirmes the deede is his. 
Z)or. What know I tho, if now he thinketh this ? 
JVano. Madame, Lucretius saith that to repent, 
Is childish, wisdome to preuent. 
])or. What tho ? 
JVano. Then cease your teares, that haue dismaid you, 
And crosse the foe before hee haue betrayed you. 
Sir ar. What needes these long suggestions in this cause, 
When euery circumstance confirmeth trueth ? 
First, let the hidden mercie from aboue 
Confirme your grace, since by a wondrous meanes 
The practise of your daungers carne to light : 
Next, let the tokens of approoued trueth 
Gouerne and stay your thoughts, too much seduc't, 
_And marke the sooth, and listen the intent. 
Your highnesse knowes, and these my noble Lords 
Can witnesse this, that whilest your husbands sirre 
In happie peace possest the Scottish Crowne, 
I was his sworne attendant heere in Court ; 
In daungerous fight I neuer fail'd my Lord, 
And since his death, and this your husbands raigne, 
No labour, dutie, haue I left vndone, 
To testifie my zeale vnto the Crowne. 
But now my limmes are weake, mine eyes are dira, 
Mine age vnweldie and vnmeete for toyle, 
I came to Court, in hope, for seruice past, 
To gaine some lease to keepe me, beeing olde. 
There round I all was vpsie turuy turnd, 
My friends displac'st, the Nobles loth to craue: 
Then sought I to the minion of the King, 
Ateukin, who, allured by a bribe, 
_A_ssur'd me of the lease for which I sought. 
But see the craft ! when he had got the graunt, 
He wrought to sell it to Sir Siluester, 
In hope of greater earnings from his hands. 
In briefe, I learnt his craft, and wrought the meanes, 
By one his needie seruant for reward, 
To steale from out his pocket all the briefes ; 

134 ° 







1847 these .Dyce: this Q 
1876 seruants Q 

1852 appoood Q 

1870 ,duteukin Q 


Which hee perform'd, and with reward resignd. 
Them when I read, (now marke the power of God,) 
I found this warrant seald among the rest, ,aSo 
To kill your grace, whom God long keepe aliue ! 
Thus, in effect, by wonder are you sau'd: 
Trifle hot, then, but seeke a speadie flight 
God will conduct your steppes, and shield the right. 
Dot. What should I do? ah poore vnhappy Queen, I385 
Borne to indure what fortune can containe ! 
Ah lasse, the deed is too apparant now! 
But, oh mine eyes, were you as bent to bide 
As my poore heart is forward to forgiue, 
Ah cruell King, my loue would thee acquite! 
Oh, what auailes to be allied and matcht 
With high estates, that marry but in shewe! 
Were I baser borne, my meane estate 
Could warrant me from this impendent harme : 
But to be great and happie, these are twaine. I393,, 
Ah, _Rosse, what shall I do? how shall I worke ? 
_Ross. With speedie letters to your father send, 
Who will reuenge you and defend your right. 
]?or. As if they kill not lne, who with him fight! 
As if his brest be toucht, I ara not wounded ! 
As if he waild, my ioyes were not confounded ! 
We are one heart tho rent by hate in twaine; 
One soule, one essence, doth our weale containe: 
What, then, can conquer him that kils not me? 
-Ross. If this aduise displease, then, Madame, flee. 
]?or. Where may I wend or trauel without feare ? 
no. Where not, in changing this attire you weare? 
])or. What, shall I clad me like a Country Maide ? 
ZVano. The pollicie is base, I am affraide. 
])or. Why, 2Vano ? 14IO 
_/Vano. Aske you why ? what, may a Queene 
March foorth in homely weede, and be hOt seene ? 
The Rose, although in thornie shrubs she spread, 
Is still the Rose, her beauties waxe hOt dead ; 
And noble mindes, altho the coate be bare, 
Are by their semblance knowne, how great they are. 
1415 court Eng. t'arnass. 1416 resemblance Eng. 'arnass. 

Sc. III] 


Sir t?ar. The Dwarfe saith true. 
Cor. What garments likste thou, than ? 
2Vano. Such as may make you seeme a proper man. 
Cor. He makes me blush & smile, tho I ara sad. 
iVano. The meanest coat for safetie is not bad. 
/)or. What, shall I let in breeches like a squire? 
Alasse, poore dwarfe, thy lIistresse is vnmeete! 
2Vano. Tut, go me thus, your cloake before your face, 
Your sword vpreard with queint & comely grace: 
If any corne & question what you bee, 
Say you, a man, and call for witnesse mee. 
/)or. What should I weare a sword, to what intent ? 
2Vano. 5Iadame, for shewe ; it is an omament: 
If any wrong you, drawe: a shining blade 
Withdrawes a coward theefe that would inuade. 
/)or. But if I strike, and hee should strike againe, 
What should I do ? I feare I should bee slaine. 
2Vano. No, take it single on your dagger so: 
Ile teach you, lladame, how to ward a blow. 
Dor. How little shapes much substance may include! 
Sir t?artram, _osse, yee Ladies, & my friends, 
Since presence yeelds me death, and absence life, 
Hence will I file disguised like a squire, 
As one that seekes to liue in Irish warres : 
You, gentle _osse, shal furnish my depart. 
loss. Yea, Prince, & die with you with ail my hart: 
Vouchsafe me, then, in all extreamest states 
To waight on you and serue you with my best. 
Cor. To me pertaines the woe: liue then in rest. 
Friends, rare you well ; keepe secret my depart: 
2Vano alone shall my attendant bee. 
rano. Then, Madame, are you mand, I warrant ye: 
Giue me a sword, and if there grow debate, 
Ile corne behinde, and breake your enemies pate. 
Ross. How sore wee greeue to part so soone away! 
/)or. Greeue not for those that perish if they stay. 
2Vano. The time in words mispent is little woorth ; 
Madam, walke on, and let them bring vs foorth. 

12 9 









ç012.1N$, !! 

lttO Itish Q 1t5 then] thou Dyce 

tnter iBo. So, these sad motions makes the fairie sleepe; *455 
And sleep hec shall in quiet & content: 
For it would make a marbell melt & weepe, 
To sec these treasons gainst the innocent. 
But since shee scapes by flight to saue her life, 
The King may chance repent she was his wife. 4 6° 
The test is ruthfull; yet, to beguile the rime, 
Tis interlast with merriment and rime. 


Airer a noyse of bornes and showtin's, enter certaine Huntsmen, 
you #lease, singing, one way; another vay Ateukin and laques. 
Ateu. Say, gentlemen, where may wee finde the King? 
il'unis. Euen heere at hand, on hunting; 
And at this houre hee taken hath a stand, 
To kill a Deere. 
Ateu. A pleasant worke in hand. 
Follow your sport, and we will seeke his grace. 
l-[unts. When suche him seeke, it is a wofull case. 
E'eunt Huntsman one evay, Ateu. and laq. another. 


(ScèNe. II.) 
Enler Eustace, Ida, and lhe Countesse. 
Counl. Lord Lruslace, as your youth & vertuous life 47o 
Deserues a farre more faire & richer wife, 
So, since I ara a mother, and do wit 
What wedlocke is, and that which longs to it, 
Before I meane my daughter to bestow, 
Twere meete that she and I your state did know. 1475 
Eust. Madame, if I consider das woorth, 
I know my portions merrit none so faire, 
And yet I hold in farine and yearly rent 
A thousand pound, which may her state content. 
Curir. But what estate, my Lord, shall she possesse? 148o 
Eust. Ail that is mine, graue Countesse, and no lesse. 
1455 faire Q 1461 beguilde Q S.D. Iaques, Gnato Q 1471 farre] 
faire Q 

But, da, will you loue ? 
]da. I cannot hate. 
Eust. But will you wedde? 
Ida. Tis Greeke to mee, my Lord: 
Ile wish you well, and thereon take my word. 
Eust. Shall I some signe of fauour, then, receiue ? 
l'da. I, if her Ladyship will giue me leaue. 
Courir. Do what thou wilt. 
rda. Then, noble English Peere, 
Accept this ring, wherein my heart is set; 
A constant heart, with burning flames befret, 
But vnder written this: 0 torte dura: 
Heereon when so you looke with eyes gura, 
The maide you fancie most will fauour you. 
Eust. Ile trie this heart, in hope to finde it true. 
Enter certaine Huntsmen and Ladies. 
t[unts. Widdowe Countesse, well ymet; 
Euer may thy ioys bee many ;-- 
Gentle 1da, saire beset, 
Faire and wise, hOt fairer any ; 
Frolike Huntsmen of the gaine 
Willes you well and giues you greeting. 
1da. Thanks, good Woodman, for the same, 
And our sport, and merrie meeting. 
Hunts. Vnto thee we do present 
Siluer-heart with arrow wounded. 
EusL This doth shadow my lainent, 
(With) both feare and loue confounded. 
Ladies. To the mother of the mayde, 
Faire as th' lillies, red as roses, 
Euen so many goods are saide, 
As herselfe in heart supposes. 
CounL What are you, friends, that thus doth wish vs wel ? 
l-[unis. Your neighbours nigh, that haue on hunting beene, 
Who, vnderstanding of your walking foorth, 
Preparde this traine to entertaine you with: 
This Ladie 19otglas, this Sir ffmond is. 
CounL Welcome, ye Ladies, and thousand thanks for this: 


1491 my] a suK. Va.lker 1499 saire Walker: faire Q 


49 o 






Corne, enter you a homely widdowes house, 
And if mine entertainment please you, let vs feast. 
funts. A louely ladie neuer wants a guest. 
Eweunt. lrane(n)t, Eustace, Ida. 
ust. Stay, gentle Zda, tell me what you deeme, 
What doth this hart, this tender heart beseeme? 
fda. Why not, my Lord, since nature teacheth art 
To sencelesse beastes to cure their greeuous smart ; 
Dictamnum serues to close the wound againe. 
ust. What helpe for those that loue ? 
fda. Why, loue againe. 
ust. Were I the Hart, u 
fda. Then I the hearbe would bec: 
You shall not die for help ; corne, follow me. 

[AcT IV 


Enter Andrew and laques. 
Iaq. Mon A)ieu, what maHzeure be this! me come a the 
chamber, Signior Andrew, Mon Z)téu ; taka my joinyard en 
ma mairie to giue the stocade to the Z)amoisella : 2Oar ma 
foy, there was no person ; elle s'est en allee. 
And. The woorse lucke, laques: but because I ara thy frlend, 
I will aduise the(e) somewhat towards the attainement of 
the gallowes. 
Zaq. Gallowes! what be that ? 
And. Marrie, sir, a place of great promotion, where thou shalt 
by one turne aboue ground rid the world of a knaue, and 
make a goodly ensample for ail bloodie villaines of thy pro- 
la. Que dites vous, Alronsieur Andrew ? 
.4ptd. I say, laques, thou must keep this path, and high thee ; 
for the Q(ueene), as I am certified, is departed with ber 
dwarfe, apparelled like a squire. Ouertake her, Frenchman, 
stab ber: Ile promise thee, this dubblet shall be happy. 
Iaq. 29ourquoy ? 
And. It shall serue a ioll(i)e gentleman, 
Sir Dominus 31"onsignior Hangman. 
1523 hart] hast Q 1526 Dictanum Q 1582, 1588 Dieu Q 153t ma] 
mon Q ibar]2Oer Q 1585 test en aile Q 1544 dette Q 1549 tur - 
quoy Q 

lac. C'est tout un ; me will rama 2our la monnoL 
And. Go, and the rot consume thee 
My maister lius by cousoning the King, I by flattering him; 
Slip2er, my fellow, by stealing, and I by lying: is not this 1555 
a wylie accord, gentlemen ? This last night, out iolly horse- 
keeper, beeing wel stept in licor, confessed to me the stealing 
of" my Maisters writing and his great reward : now dare I hOt 
beoEaye him, least he discouer my knauerie ; but thus haue 
I wrought. I vnderstand he will passe this way, to prouide 156o 
him necessaries ; but if I and my fellowes faile hot, wee will 
teach him such a lesson as shall cost him a chiefe place on 
pennilesse bench for his labour. But yond he cornes. 
Enter Slipper, wit a Tailor, a Shoomaker, and a Cutler. 
Slip. Taylor. 
Tayl. Sir ? 
Slip. Let my dubblet bee white Northren, fiue groates the yard : 
I tell thee, I will be braue. 
Tayl. It shall, sir. 
Slip. Now, sir, cut it me like the battlements of a Custerd, 
ful of round holes: edge me the sleeues with Couentry-blew, 
and let the lynings bee of tenpenny locrum. 
Tayl. Very good, sir. 
Slip. Make it the amorous cut, a flappe before. 
Tayl. And why so ? that fashion is stale. 
Slip. Oh, friend, thou art a simple fellow. I tell thee a flap I575 
is a great friend to a "1-storrie "1" ; it stands him in stead of 
cleane napery; and if a man's shert bee torne, it is 
a present penthouse to defend him from a cleane huswifes 
TayL You say sooth, sir. 
Slip. Holde, take thy mony ; there is seuen shillings for the 
dubblet, and eight for the breeches: seuen and eight, 
birladie, thirtie sixe is a faire deale of mony. 
TayL Farwell, sir. 
Slip. Nay, but stay, Taylor. 1585 
Tayl. XVhy, sir ? 
Slip. Forget not this speciall make, let my back parts bee 
well linde, for there corne many winter stormes from a 
windie bellie, I tell thee. (.Ex# Taylor.) Shoo-maker. 
155° le money Q 1571 locorum Q 1587 mate Q 

çhoo. Gentleman, what shoo will it please you to haue ? .9 o 
Slip. A fine neate calues leather, my friend. 
çhoo. Oh, sir, that is too thin, il will hot last you. 
Slip. I tell thee, il is my neer kinsman, for I ara Slipper, 
which hath his best grace in summer to bee suted in 
+lakus + skins. Guidwife Calf was my grandmother, and 59s 
goodman Neather-leather mine Vnckle; but my mother, 
good woman, Alas, she was a Spaniard, and being wel tande 
and drest by a good fellow, an Englishlnan, is growne to 
some wealth: as when I haue but my vpper parts clad in 
her husbands costlie Spannish leather, I may bee bold to 6oo 
kisse the fayrest ladies foote in this contrey. 
Soo. You are of high birth, sir: but haue you all your 
mothers markes on you ? 
Slip. Why, knaue ? 
Soomaker. Because if thou corne of the bloud of the Slippers, 6o. 
you should haue a Shoomakers Aile thrust through your eare. 
Slip. Take your earnest, friend, and be packing. 
Exil (Shoemaker). 
And meddle hOt with my progenators. Cutler. 
Cutler. Heare, sir. 
S@. I must haue a Rapier and Dagger. 6o 
Cutler. A Rapier and Dagger, you meane, sir? 
çlipper. Thou saiest true ; but il muse haue a verie faire edge. 
Cutler. Why so, sir ? 
çlip. ]3ecause il may cut by him selle, for trulie, my freende, 
I ara a man of peace, and wear weapons but for facion. 6. 
Cutler. Well, sir, giue me earnest I will fit you. 
Sl. Hold, take it : I betrust thee, friend ; let me be wel armed. 
Cutler. You shall. 
W_.xil Cutler. 
Slip. Nowe what remaines ? theres twentie crownes for house, 
three crownes for houshol(d) stuffe, six pence to buie a con- 6,o 
stables staffe ; nay, I will be the chiefe of my parish. There 
wants nothing but a wench, a cat, a dog, a wife, and a semant, 
to make an hole famille. Shall I marrie with Alice, good- 
man Grimsaues daughter? Shee is faire, but indeede her 
tongue is like clocks on Shroue-tuesday, alwaies out of,62s 
1595 Iackass' Collier Calf Collier: Clarke Q - 1610 1Reaper and 
Digger Çollier 

temper. Shall I wed Sisley of the Vhighlon? Oh, o, she 
is like a frog in a parcely bed ; as scittish as an ele : if I seek 
to hamper her, she wil horne me. But a wench must be 
had» maister Slip(per); yea» and shal be, deer friend. 
And. I now will driue him from his contemplations. Oh, my 63o 
mates, corne forward: the lamb is vnpent, the fox shal 
Enler three Antiques» who dance round» and take Slipper wilh them. 
Slip. I will, my freend, and I thanke you heartilie : pray keepe 
your curtesie: I am yours in the way of an homepipe. 
They are strangers, I see, they vnderstand not my language; 1635 
wee, wee.-- 
14/'biles! they are dauncing, Andrew [akes away fils money» 
olher Antiques de#arL 
Sh'. Nay, but, my friends, one hornpipe further, a refluence 
backe, and two doubles forward: what not one crosse point 
against Sundayes?--What, ho, sirrha, you gone, you with the 
nose like an Eagle, and you be a righte Greeke, one turne ,64 o 
more. Theeues, theeues! I ara robd! theeues! Is this the 
knauerie of Fidlers? Well, I will then binde the hole credit 
of their occupation on a bagpiper, and he for my money. 
But I will after, and teach them to caper in a halter, that 
haue cousoned me of my money. ,64: 
(SCN IV.) 
lnler Nano» Dorothea in mans aflflarell. 
Dor. Ah 2Vano» I am wearie of these weedes, 
Wearie to weeld this weapon that I bare, 
Wearie of loue from whom my woe proceedes, 
Wearie of toyle, since I haue lost my deare. 
O wearie life, where wanteth no distresse, J6.o 
But euery thought is paide with heauinesse! 
JVano. Too much of wearie, madame: if you please, 
Sit downe, let wearie dye, and take your ease. 
Dor. How look I, no ? like a lnan or no ? 
IVano. If not a man, yet like a manlie shrowe. 65. 
Dor. If any come and meete vs on the way, 
What should we do, if they inforce vs stay ? 
1689 gome .Dyce 1650 wanted Q 

.Nana. Set cap a huffe, and challenge him the field: 
Suppose the worst, the weake may fight to yeeld. 
Dot. The battaile, .Nana, in this troubled minde t66o 
Is farre more tierce then euer we may finde. 
The bodies wounds by medicines may be eased, 
But griefes of mindes, by salues are hOt appeased. 
.Nano. Say, Madame, will you heare your .Nano sing? 
Do: Of woe, good boy, but of no other thing. I665 
.Nano. What, if I sing of fancie, will it please ? 
Dot. To such as hope successe such noats breede ease. 
.Nano. What, if I sing, like .Damon, to my sheepe? 
Dot. Like .PMllis, I will sit me downe to weepe. 
Wano. Nay, since my songs afford such pleasure small, x67o 
Ile sit me downe, and sing you none at ai1. 
Dot. Oh, be hot angrie, .Nano ! 
.Nan. Nay, you loath 
To thinke on that, which doth content vs both. 
YDor. And how ? x675 
.Nano. You scorne desport when you are wearie, 
And loath my mirth, who liue to make you merry. 
Dot. Danger and fear withdraw me from delight. 
.Nano. "ris verrue to contemne fals Fortunes spight. 
Dot. What should I do to please thee, friendly squire? x68o 
1Vano. A stalle a day is all I will require; 
And if you pay me well the smiles you owe me, 
Ile kill this cursed care, or else beshrowe me, 
Dot. We are descried ; oh, .Nano, we are dead! 
tzger Iaques kis sword drawne. 
2Vano. Tut, yet you walk, you are not dead indeed. 1685 
Drawe me your sword, if he your way withstand, 
And I will seeke for rescue out of hand. 
.Dot. Run, ,Nano, runne, preuent thy Princes death. 
A,no. Feare not, ile run all danger out of breath. 
Iaq. Ah, you calletta, you strumpetta -aigressa 2Porelie, esles x69o 
vous surprise ? corne, say your pater noster, car uous esles 
morge, par ma foy. 
1662 wound ng. tarnass, 1663 mindes] heart tng. Parnass. 
1684 Z)or.] Z)oug. Q : &rano Q 1688 Z)or.] at 1687 in Q 1690 calletta ,.. 
matressa Q 1691 sur.#rius Q 

Dor. Callet, me strumpet! Catiue as thou art! 
But euen a Princesse borne, who scorne thy threats: 
Shall neuer French man say, an English mayd I695 
Of threats of forraine force will be afraid. 
Zaf. You no dites vostres prières? morbleu, mechante femme, 
guarda your bresta there: me make you die on my Morglay. 
19or. God sheeld me, haplesse princes(se) and a wife, 
They Jffht, and shee is sore wounded. 
And saue my soule, altho I loose my life! i7oo 
Ah, I ana slaine! some piteous power repay 
This murtherers cursed deed, that doth me slay! 
Ia¢. tlle est toute morte. Me will runne pour a wager, for feare 
me be surpris and pendu for my labour, tien ie m'en 
allerai au roi lui dire mes affaires. Ze serai un chevalier 17o5 
for this daies trauaile. 
Enter Nano, S(ir) Cut(h)bert Anderson, his sworl drawne. 
Sir Cutb. Where is this poore distressed gentleman ? 
Arano. Here laid on ground, and wounded to the death. 
Ah gentle heart, how are these beautious lookes 
Dimd by the tyrant cruelties of death ! iîio 
Oh wearie soule, breake thou froln forth my brest, 
And ioyne thee with the soule I honoured most! 
Sir Cul. Leaue mourning, friend, the man is yet aliue. 
Some helpe me to conuey him to my house: 
There will I see him carefully recured, 1715 
And send priuie search to catch the murtherer. 
IVano. The God of heauen reward thee, curteous knight ? 
E'eutl. ./tnd [heur beare out Dorothea. 

Enter the King of Scots, Iaques, Ateukin, Andrew ; Iaques runnin 
wittt hic swoord one way, the King x,itlz his traine an other way. 
A . ofScots. Stay, Zaques, feare hot, sheath thy murthering blade : 
Loe, here thy King and friends are corne abroad 
To saue thee from the terrors of pursuite. 
What, is she dead ? 
1693 Callest me sugg. Z)yce 1697 dire vostre prieges, w'blettte ttterckattts 
famine Q 1703-5 tout »tort... pur.., surpryes . . . Be in alera . . . 
auy cits tte . . . serra.., chivalier Q 




l"aq. Oui, Monsieur, elle is blessée 2bar la tesle ouer les élaules : 
I warrant, she no trouble you. 
4leu. Oh, then, my liege, how happie art thou growne, 
How fauoured of the heauens, and blest by loue! 
Mee thinkes I see faire Zda in thine armes, 
Crauing remission for her late contempt: 
Mee thinke(s) I see ber blushing steale a kisse, 
Vniting both your soules by such a sweete, 
And you, my King, suck Nectar from her lips. 
Why, then, delaies your grace to gaine the test 
You long desired? why loose we forward rime? 
Write, make me spokesman now, vow marriage : 
If she deny you fauour, let nae die. 
4nd. Mightie and magnificent potentate, giue credence to 1735 
mine honorable good Lord, for I heard the Midwife sweare 
at his natiuitie that the Faieries gaue him the propertie of 
the Thracian Stone; for who toucheth it is exempted from 
griefe, and he that heareth my Maisters Counsell is alreadie 
possessed of happinesse; nay, which is more myracalous, as 74o 
the Noble man in his infancie lay in his Cradle, a swarme 
of Bees laid honey on his lippes in token of his eloquence. 
For ruelle dulcior fluit oratio. 
4teu. ¥our grace must beare with imperfections: 
This is exceeding loue that makes him speake. 745 
Ix: of Scots. Iteu/in, I ana rauisht in conceit, 
And yet deprest againe with earnest thoughts. 
Me thinkes, this murther soundeth in naine eare 
A threatning noyse of dire and sharpe reuenge: 
I am incenst with greefe, yet faine would ioy. 3750 
What may I do to end me of these doubts ? 
4teu. Why, Prince, it is no murther in a King, 
To end an others life to saue his owne: 
For you are not as common people bee, 
Who die and perish with a fewe men's teares ; 17.. 
But if you faile, the state doth whole default, 
The Realme is rent in twaine, in such a losse. 
And Aristotle holdeth this for true, 
Of euills needs we must chuse the least : 

1722 Wee ... is... per lake ... oues ... espanles Q 
1784 your Q 1743 dulcier Q 1755 mans Q 

1727 attempt Q 

Sc. V] 


Then better were it, that a woman died 
Then all the helpe of Scolland should be blent. 
Tis pollicie, my liege, in euerie state, 
To cut off members that disturbe the head: 
And by corruption generation growes, 
And contraries maintaine the world & state. 
K. of Scols. Enough, I ara confirmed. Aleukin, corne, 
Rid me of loue, and rid me of my greefe ; 
Driue thon the tyrant from this tainted brest, 
Then may I triumph in the height of ioy. 
Go to naine Jda, tell her that I vowe 
To raise ber head, and make ber honours great : 
Go to naine Jda, tell her that her haires 
Salbe embellished with orient pearles, 
And Crownes of saphyrs, compassing her browes, 
Shall warre with those sweete beauties of her eyes: 
Go to naine Ida, tell her that my soule 
Shall keepe her semblance closed in my brest ; 
And I, in touching of her milke-white mould, 
Will thinke me deified in such a grace. 
I like no stay; go write, and I will signe: 
Reward me faques; giue him store of Cownes. 
And sirrha Mndrew, scout thou here in Curt, 
And bring me tydings, if thou canst perceiue 
The least intent of muttering in my traine; 
For either those that wrong thy Lord or thee 
Shall surfer death. 


Exil lhe King. 






1775 weare Q 1781 Crowne Q 1791 Mes Q 

1773 embollished Q 
179ôlera Q 

Aleu. How much, ô mightie King, 
Is thy Aleukin bound to honour thee !-- 
Bowe thee, Andrew, bend thine sturdie knees ; 
Seest thou not here thine onely God on earth? 79 o 
Iaq. Mais ou esl mon argent, Signior ? 
Aleu. Corne, follow me. His graue, I see, is made, 
That thus on suddain he hath left vs here.m 
Corne, laques, we wil haue our packet soone dispacht. 
And you shall be my mate vpon the way. 79b 
Iaq. Corne :ous 2Maira, Afonsieur. 

A»dî-. Was neuer such a world, I thinke, before, 
When sinners seeme to daunce within a net: 
The flatterer and the murtherer, they grow big; 
By hooke or crooke promotion now is sought. 
In such a world, where men are so misled, 
What should I do, but, as the Prouerbe saitb, 
Runne with the Hare, and hunt with the Hound, 
To haue two meanes, beseemes a wittie man. 
Now here in Court I may aspire and clime 
By subtiltie, before my maisters death: 
And if that faile, well rare another driR; 
I will, in secret, certaine letters send 
Vnto the English King, and let him know 
The order of his daughters ouerthrow; 
That if my toaster crack his credit here, 
As I ara sure long flattery cannot hold, 
I may haue meanes within the English Court 
To scape the scourge that waits on bad adulte. 
El:eî" Bohan and Obiron. 
Ober. Beleue me, bonny Scot, these strange euents 
Are passing pleasing, may they end as well. 
/oh. Else say that ok«z hath a barren skull, 
If better motions yet then any past 
Do not more glee to make the fair(i)e greet. 
But my small son ruade prittie hansome shift 
To mue the Queene his Mistresse, by his speed. 
Ober. Yea, and yon laddie, for his sport he ruade, 
Shall see, when least he hopes, Ile stand his friend, 
Or else hee capers in a halters end. 
toh. What, hang my son! I trowe not, Obiran: 
Ile rather die then see him woe begon. 
Enter a rownd, or some daunce at tleasure. 
Ober. tohan, be pleasd, for do they what they will, 
Heere is my hand, Ile saue thy son from ill. 

1806 before] for Q 


1822 and yon laddie Z).¥ce : you ladie Q 


8o 5 




18z 5 



Enter lhe Queene in a niff]tl gowne, Ladie Anderson, and Nano 
(with Sir Cuthbert Anderson be]dnd). 
Za. And. My gentle friend, beware, in taking aire, 
Your walkes growe not offensiue to your woundes. 1S$o 
])or. Madame, I thank you of your courteous care: 
My wounds are well nigh clos'd, tho sore they are. [griefe, 
La. And. Me thinks these closed wounds should breed more 
Since open wounds haue cure, and find reliefe. 
])or. Madame, if vndiscouered wounds you meane, I835 
They are not curde, because they are not seene. 
Z. And. I meane the woundes which do the heart subdue. 
Nano. Oh, that is loue: Madame, speake I not true? 
Ladie Anderson ouerheares. 
Za. And. Say it were true, what salue for such a sore ? 
Nano. ]3e wise, and shut such neighbours out of dore. 184o 
Za. And. How if I cannot driue him from lny brest ? 
Nano. Then chaine him well, and let him do his best. 
Sir Cutk. (aside). In ripping vp their wounds, I see their wit; 
But if these woundes be cured, I sorrow it. 
])or. Why are you so intentiue to behold 1845 
My pale and wofull lookes, by care controld ? 
Aa. And. Because in them a readie way is found 
To cure my care, and heale my hidden wound. 
Nano. Good Maister, shut your eyes, keepe that conceit; 
Surgeons giue coin to get a good receit. 85o 
])or. Peace, wanton son; this Ladie did amend 
My woundes ; mine eyes her hidden griefe shall end: 
Looke hOt too much, it is a waightie case. 
_/'Vano. Where as a man puts on a maidens face, 
For many times, if ladies ware them not, I855 
A nine moneths wound with little worke is got. 
Sir Cuth. (aside). Ile breake off their dispute, least loue proeeed 
From couert smiles, to perfect loue indeed. 
Nano. The cats abroad, stirre not, the mite bee still. 
Za. And. Tut, wee can flie such cats, when so we will. i86o 
Sir Cuttt. How fares my guest ? take cheare, nought shall default, 

1850 coin Dyce : Quoine (2 1855 weare Q 


That eyther doth concerne your health or ioy; 
Vse me, my house, and what is mine is yours. 
Dot. Thankes, gentle knight; and if all hopes be true, 
I hope ere long to do as much for you. 865 
Sir Cut. Your vertue doth acquite me of that doubt : 
But, courteous sir, since troubles calles me hence, 
I must to dden3ourg, vnto the King, 
There to take charge and waight him in his warres.-- 
Meane while, good Madame, take this squire in charge, 87o 
And vse him so as if it were my selfe. 
Z.a. And. Sir Cu¢ler¢, doubt hOt of my dilligence: 
Meane while, till your returne, God send you health. 
])or. God blesse his grace, and, if his cause be iust, 
Prosper his warres ; if hOt, hee'l mend, I trust. 875 
Good sir, what mooues the King to fall to armes? 
Sir Cuth. The King of England forrageth his land, 
And hath besieged )unlar with mightie force. 
(Z)or.) What other newes are common in the Court? 
Sir Cuth. Reade you these letters, Madame; tell the squire x88o 
The whole affaires of state, for I must hence. 
])or. God prosper you, and bring you backe from thence! 
Madame, what newes ? 
Z.a. And. They say the Queene is slaine. 
Dot. Tut, such reports more false then trueth containe, x885 
La. And. But these reports haue made his nobles leaue him. 
Dot. Ah, carelesse men, and would they so deceiue him ? 
La. And. The land is spoylde, the commons fear the crosse; 
All crie against the King, their cause of losse: 
The English King subdues and conquers all. 89o 
Dot. Ah lasse, this warre growes great on causes small! 
£a. And. Our Court is desolate, our Prince alone, 
Stil dreading death. 
Dot. Woes me, for him I moane! 
Helpe, now helpe, a suddaine qualme 89 
Assayles my heart ! 
Aano. Good Madame, stand his friend: 
Giue vs some licor to refresh his heart. 

1878 Dambac ( 1897-1900 his] her Q 

sc. ] 


La. And. Daw thou him vp, ande I will fetch thee foorth 
Potions of comfort, to represse his paine. 




Wano. Fie, Princesse, faint on euery fond report! 
How well nigh had you opened your estate ! 
Couer these sorrowes with the varie of ioy, 
And hope the best ; for why this warre will cause 
A great repentance in your husbands minde. 9o5 
]9or. Ah, _]Vano, trees liue not without their sap. 
And Clitie cannot blush but on the sunne; 
The thirstie earth is broke with many a gap, 
And lands are leane where riuers do not runne : 
Where soule is reft from that it loueth best, I91o 
How can it thriue or boast of quiet test ? 
Thou knowest the Princes fosse must be my death, 
His griefe, my griet'e ; his mischiefe must be mine. 
Oh, if thou loue me, 2Vano, high to court! 
Tell 2osse, tell Bar/rare, that I ara aliue; i9 5 
Conceale thou yet the place of my aboade: 
Will them, euen as they loue their Queene, 
As they are charie of my soule and ioy, 
To guard the King, to serue him as my Lord. 
Haste thee, good _/Vano, for my husbands care I9ao 
Consumeth mee, and wounds mee to the heart. 
Nano. Madame, I go, yet loth to leaue you heere. 
])or. Go thou with speed: euen as thou holdst me deare, 
Returne in baste. 
Enter Ladie Anderson. 
La. And. Now, sir, what cheare ? corne tast this broth I bring. I9, 5 
]?or. My griefe is past, I feele no further sting. 
£a. And. Where is your dwarfe ? Why bath hee left you, sir ? 
])or. For some affaires: hee is hOt traueld farre. 
Za. And. If so you please, come in and take your rest. 
1?or. Feare keepes awake a discontented brest. I93o 

1899 him ] her Q 


Af/er a sale»me seruice, en/er,/rem l]e widdawes bouse, a seruice, 
musical sons of marriaffes, or a maske, or ev/at firettie triumfih 
you lis! : to/hem, Ateukin azd laques. 
Are. What means this triumph, frend? why are these feasts ? 
Servi. Faire Zda, sir, was marryed yesterday 
Ynto sir ustace, and for that intent 
Wee feast and sport it thus to honour them: 
And if you please, corne in and take your part ; 93. 
My Ladie is no niggard of her cheare. 
]ac. Alonsigneur, why be you so sadda ? faile« bonm Cere, 
fautre de ce mande .t 
Aleu. What, was I borne to bee the scorne of kinne ? 
To gather feathers like to a hopper crowe, I94o 
And loose them in the height of ail my pompe? 
Accursed man, how is my credite lost! 
Where is my vowes I made vnto the King? 
What shall become of mee, if hee shall heare 
That I haue causde him kill a vertuous Queene, 94.  
And hope in vaine for that which now is lost ? 
Where shall I hide my head? I knowe the heauens 
Are iust, and will reuenge ; I know my sinnes 
Exceede compare. Should I proceed in this, 
This ustace must anaain be ruade away. 95o 
Oh, were I dead, how happy should I bee! 
Zaq. ce do¢c a tel 2boynt vostre eslat; faith, then adeiu, 
Scotland, adeiu, Sign[or Ateu[: me will homa to ri'rance, 
and no be hanged in a strange country. 
Ateu. Thou doest me good to leaue me thus alone, 
That galling griefe and I may yoake in one. 
Oh, what are subtile meanes to clime on high, 
When euery fall swarmes with exceeding shame ? 
I promist Idaes loue vnto the Prince, 
But shee is lost, and I ana false forsworne. I96o 
I practis'd 1)orotheas haplesse death, 
And by this practise haue commenst a warre. 

Scene 2"2"S. D. Iaques] Gnato Q 197 lette bon Q 1950 amain] a man Q 



Oh cursed race of men, that traficque guile, 
And in the end, themselues and kings beguilel 
Ashamde to looke vpon my Prince againe, 965 
Ashamde of my suggestions and aduice, 
Ashamde of lire, ashamde that I haue erde: 
Ile hide my selle, expecting for my shame. 
Thus God doth worke with those, that purchase faine 
By flattery, and make their Prince their gaine. 97o 


Enter tke King of England, Lord Percey, Samles, and others. 
lxç of]7ng. Thus farre, ye English Peeres, haue we displayde 
Out wauing ensignes with a happy warre ; 
Thus neerely hath out furious rage reuengde 
My daughters death vpon the traiterous Scot. 
And now before Dunbar our campe is pitcht; 975 
Which, if it yeeld not to out compromise 
The plough shall furrow where the pallace stood, 
And furie shall enioy so high a power 
That mercie shall bee bannisht from our swords. 
(Enter Douglas and others on tke evalls.) 
.Doug. What seekes the English King? x9So 
It: of.Eng. Scot, open those gates, and let me enter in: 
Submit thy selfe and thine vnto my grace, 
Or I will put each mothers sonne to death, 
And lay this Cittie leuell with the ground. 
Doug. For what offence, for what default of ours, gS 
Art thou incenst so sore against out state? 
Can generous hearts in nature bee so sterne 
To pray on those that neuer did offend? 
What tho the Lyon, King of brutish race, 
Through outrage sinne, shall lambes be therefore slaine? 99 o 
Or is it lawfull that the humble die 
Because the mightie do gainsay the right ? 
O English King, thou bearest in thy crest 
The King of beasts, that harmes hot yeelding ones: 
1970 game Dyce : gaine Q Exeunt Q 1971 K. of Eng.] Arius Q 
and sa throughout this scene ye] the Q 1'975 Dambar Q 1976 com- 
premise Q 1977 plough] place Q 1978 enioy] enuy Q 1998 crest] 
brest Q 


The Roseall crosse is spred within thy field, i995 
A signe of peace, hot of reuenging warre. 
Be gracious, then, vnto this little towne; 
And, tho we haue withstood thee for a while 
To shew alleageance to our liefest liege, 
Yet since wee know no hope of any helpe, 2000 
Take vs to mercie, for wee yeeld ourselues. 
_/. of'ng= What, shall I enter, then, and be your Lord ? 
Z)eug. We will submit vs to the English King. 
7hey desced doepne, oez tke ffates, and humble them. 
'ing. of tïng. Now life and death dependeth on my sword: 
This hand now reard, my 29ouglas, if I list, 2005 
Could part thy head and shoulders both in twaine 
But since I see thee wise and olde in yeares, 
True to thy King, and faithfull in his warres, 
Liue thou and thine. Z)unbar is too too small 
To giue an entrance to the English King: 
I, eaglelike, disdaine these little foules, 
And looke on none but those that dare resist. 
Enter your towne, as those that liue by me: 
For others that resist, kill, forrage, spoyle. 
Mine English souldiers, as you loue your King, 
Reuenge his daughters death, and do me right. 


tïnter t]w Lawyer, t]e Merchant, and the Diuine. 
aw. My friends, what thinke you of this present state? 
Were euer seene such changes in a rime ? 
The manners and the fashions of this age 
Are, like the Ermine skinne so full of spots, 
As sooner may the Moore bee washed white 
Then these corruptions bannisht from this Realme. 
2Werch. What sees Mas Lawyer in this state amisse ? 
aw. A wresting power that makes a nose of wax 
Of grounded lawe, a damde and subtile drift 
In all estates to climb by others losse, 
An eager thirst of wealth, forgetting trueth. 
Might I ascend vnto trie highest states, 
021 sooner] soone Q 2027 thrist Dyce : thrift Q 


And by discent discouer euery crime, 
My friends, I should lament, and you would greeue 
To see the haplesse ruines of this Realme. 
Div. 0 Lavyer, thou haste curious eyes to prie 
Into the secrets maimes of their estate; 
But if thy vaile of error were vnmaskt, 
Thy selfe should see your sect do maime her most. 
Are you hOt those that should maintaine the peace, 
Yet onely are the patrones of out strife ? 
If your profession haue his ground and spring 
First from the lawes of God, then countries right, 
Not any waies inuersing natures power, 
Why thriue you by contentions? Why deuise you 
Cawses, and subtile reasons to except ? 
Out state was first, before you grew so great, 
A Lanterne to the world for vnitie : 
Now they that are befriended and are rich 
Oppresse the poore: corne Iomer without quoine, 
He is not heard. What-shall we terme this drift ? 
To say the poore man's cause is good and iust, 
And yet the rich man gaines the best in lawe. 
It is your guise, (the more the world laments) 
To quoine _Prouisoes to beguile your lawes, 
To make a gay pretext of due proceeding, 
When you delay your common pleas for yeares. 
Mark what these dealings lately here haue wroght: 
The craffie men haue purchaste great mens lands ; 
They powle, they pinch, their tennants are vndone ; 
If these c.omplaine, by you they are vndone ; 
You fleese them of their quoine, their children beg, 
And many want, because you may bee rich: 
This scarre is mightie, maister Lawyer. 
Now war bath gotten head within this land, 
Marke but the guise. The poore man that is wrongd 
Is readie to rebell ; hee spoyles, he pilles ; 
We need no foes to forrage that wee haue: 
The lawe, (say they,) in peace consumed vs, 
And now in warre wee will consume the lawe. 
Looke to this mischiefe, Lawyers: Conscience knowes 
2046 Oppresse] Or presse Q 2061 war.Dyce : man Q 
L 2 










You liue amisse ; amend it, least you end. 
Zaw. Good Lord, that these Diuines should see so farre 
In others faults, without amending theirs ! 
Sir, sir, the generall defaults in state 
(If you would read belote you did correct,) 
Are by a hidden working from aboue, 
:By their successiue changes still remoued. 
Were not the lawe by contraries maintainde, 
ttow could the trueth from falsehood be discemde ? 
Did wee not tast the bitternesse of warre, 
How could wee knowe the sweet effects of peace ? 
Did wee not feele the nipping winter frostes, 
How should we know the sweetnesse of the Spring ? 
Should all things still remaine in one estate, 
Should not in greatest arts some scarres be round, 
Were all vpright nor changd, what world were this? 
A Clzaos, ruade of quiet, yet no world, 
Because the parts thereof did still accord: 
This matter craues a variance, not a speech. 
But, sir Diuine, to you: looke on your maimes, 
Diuisions, sects, your Simonies, and bribes, 
Your cloaking with the great, for feare to fall, 
You sball perceiue you are the cause of ail. 
Did each man know there were a storme at hand, 
Who would hOt cloath him well, to shun the wet? 
Did Prince and Peere, the Lawyer and the Priest, 
Know what were sinne, without a partiall glose, 
Wee need no long discouery then of crimes, 
For each would mend, aduis'de by holy men. 
Thus (I) but slightly shadow out your sinnes; 
But if they were depainted out for life, 
Alasse, wee both had wounds inough to heale! 
Mérch. None of you both, I see, but are in fault ; 
Thus simple men, as I, do swallow fiies. 
This graue Diuine can tell vs what to do ; 
But wee may say, Phisitian, mend thy selfe. 
This Lawyer hath a pregnant wit to talke ; 
But all are words, I see no deeds of woorth. 








2069 these] their Q 2074 remoued l)yce : remainde Q 2083 nor 
Z)yce: and Q 2088 summonies Q 2093 Priest/d: least Q 

Sc. V] 



Law. Good Merchant, lay your fingers on your mouth ; 
Be nota blab, for feare you bite your selfe. 
What should I terme your state, but euen the way 
To euery ruine in this Common-weale ? 
You bring vs in the meanes of ail excesse 
You rate it, and retail it as you please ; 
You sweare, forsweare, and ail to compasse wealth ; 
Your mony is your God, your hoord your heauen 
You are the groundworke of contention. 
First heedlesse youth by you is ouerreacht; 
Wee are eorrupted by your many crownes: 
The Gentlemen, whose titles you haue bought, 
Loose all their fathers toyle within a day, 
Whilst ]-]ob your sonne, and Sib your nutbrowne childe, 
Are Gentlefolkes, and Gentles are beguilde. 2xao 
This makes so many Noble mindes to stray, 
And take sinister courses in the state. 
Enler a Scout. 
Scout. 1V[y friends, begone, and if you loue your liues ; 
The King of England marcheth heere at hand: 
Enter the campe, for feare you bee surprisde. 
Z)iu. Thankes, gentle scout. God rnend that is amisse, 
And place true zeale whereas corruption is! 
En/er Dorothea [in man's a2arell], Ladie Anderson, and qano. 
2)or. What newes in Court, 2Varia? let vs know it. 
dVano. If so you please, my Lord, I straight will shew it. 
The English King hath all the borders spoyld, 
Hath taken _h[orton prisoner, and hath slaine 
Seuen thousand Scottish lads not farre from Tweed. 
Der. A wofull murther and a bloodie deed! 
_/ano. The King, out liege, hath sought by many meanes 
For to appease his enemie by prayers : 
Nought will preuaile vnlesse hee can restore 
Faire Z)orottzea, long supposed dead: 
To this intent he hath proclaimed late, 
That whosoeuer returne the Queene to Court 
2111 retail] retalde Q 2121 mindes Z)yce : maides Q 2182 lads 
Collier: lords Q Tweed] Tveavde Q 2134 The King] Thinking Q 

Shall 1-mue a thousand markes for his reward. z4o 
La. And. He loues her, then, I sec, altho inforst, 
That would, bestow such gifts for to regaine her. 
Why sit you sad, good sir? be hOt dismaide. 
2Vano. Ile lay my life, this man would be a maide. 
29or. (aside). Faine would I shewe my selfe, and change my tire. 
Za. And. Whereon diuine you, sir ? 
_lVano. Vppon desire. 
Madam, marke but my skill, ile lay my life, 
My maister here, will prooue a married wife. 
Dot. (aside fo Vano). Wilt thou bewray me, Vano? 
_lVano (aside fo Dot.). Madam, no: 
You are a man, and like a man you goe: 
But I that ara in speculation seene 
Know you would change your state to be a Queen. 
dgor. (aside 1o ,_lVano). Thou art hOt, dwarffe, to learne thy 
Mistresse mind : 
Faine would I with thy selle disclose my kind, 
But yet I blush. 
Nana ( Z)or.). What blush you, Madam, than, 
To be your selle, who are a fayned man ? i6o 
Let me alone. 
Za. And. Deceitfull beautie, hast thou s.corned me so ? 
Vano. Nay, muse hOt, madam, for he tels you true. 
Za. And. Beautie bred loue, and loue hath bred my shame. 
Nano. And womens faces work more wrongs then these: 
Take comfort, Madam, to cure your disease. 
And yet he loues a man as well as you, 
Onely this difference, he cannot fancie two. 
Za. And. ]31ush, greeue, and die in thine insaciat lust. 
JDor. Nay liue, and ioy that thou hast won a friend, 
That loues thee as his lire by good desert. 
La. Ani. I ioy, my Lord, more then my tongue can tell: 
Though not as I desir'd, I loue you well. 
But Modestie, that neuer blusht before, 
Discouer my false heart: I say no more. 
Let me alone. 

2163 madam .Dyce : maiden Q 
2168 he] she Q two] too Q 
_Although Q 

he .Dyce : she Q 
2171 good] god Q 

2166 your] our Q 
2178 Though] 



]9or. Good Nano, stay a while. 
Were I not sad, how kindlie could I smile, 
To see how faine I am to leaue this weede! 
And yet I faint to shewe my selfe indeede: 218o 
But danger hates delay, I will be bold.-- 
Faire Ladie, I am not, (as you) suppose, 
A man, but euen that Queene, more haplesse I, 
Whom Scottish King appointed bath to die ; 
I am the haplesse Princesse, for whose right, 
These Kings in bloudie warres reuenge dispight 
I am that Z)orol]ea whom they seeke, 
¥ours bounden for your kindnesse and releefe 
And since you are the meanes that saue my life, 
Your selfe and I will to the Camp repaire, ,.19o 
Whereas your husband shal enioy reward, 
And bring me to his highnesse once againe. 
La../lnd. Pardon, most gratious Princesse, if you please, 
My rude discourse and homelie entertaine ; 
And if my words may sauour any worth, 2195 
Vouchsafe my counsaile in this waightie cause: 
Since that out liege hath so vnkindly dealt, 
Giue him no trust, returne vnto your syre; 
There may you safelie liue in spight of him. 
Dor. Ah Ladie, so wold worldly counsell work; 2200 
But constancie, obedience, and my loue, 
In that my husband is my Lord and Chiefe, 
These call me to compassion of his estate: 
Disswade me not, for vertue will not change. 
La. And. What woonderous constancie is this I heare! 2205 
If English dames their husbands loue so deer, 
I feare me in the world they haue no peere. 
Arano. Corne Princes(se), wend, and let vs change your weede : 
I long to see you now a Queene indeede. 

( SCEr. VI. > 
Enter the King of Scots, lire English Herauld, &- Lords. 
. ofScots. He would haue parly, Lords :--Herauld, say he shall, 221o 
And get thee gone: goe leaue me to my selfe. 

2182 asyou add 13yce 

Twixt loue and feare, continuall is the warres: 
The one assures me of my ]daes loue, 
The other moues me for my murthred Queene: 
Thus finde I greefe of that whereon I ioy, 225 
And doubt in greatest hope, and death in weale. 
Ah lasse, what hell may be compared with mine, 
Since in extreames my comforts do consist ! 
Warre then will cease, when dead ones are reuiued ; 
Some then will yeelde, when I am dead for hope.-- 2220 
Who doth disturbe me? tndrew  
Andrew enter wit Slipper. 
Mndr. I, my liege. 
_A: of Swts. What newes ? 
tndr. I thinke my mouth was ruade at first 
To tell these tragique tales, my liefest Lord. 2225 
_A: of Scots. What, is Ateui2 dead ? tell me the worst. 
Mndr. No, but your _.rda--shall I tell him all?-- 
Is married late--(ah shall I say to whom?) 
My maister sad--(for why he shames the Court) 
Is fled away; ah most vnhappie flight ! 223o 
Onelie my selfe--ah who can loue you more! 
To shew my dutie, (dutie past beliefe,) 
Ara corne vnto your grace, (oh gratious liege,) 
To let you know--oh would it weare hOt thus !-- 
That loue is vain and maids soone lost and wonne. 2235 
A: of Scots. How haue the partial heauens, then, dealt with me, 
Boading my weale, for to abase my power! 
Alas what thronging thoughts do me oppresse! 
Iniurious loue is partiall in my right, 
And flattering tongues, by whom I was misled, 224o 
Haue laid a snare to spoyle my state & me. 
Methinkes I heare my J)orotheas goast. 
Howling reuenge for my accursed hate: 
The goasts of those my subiects that are slaine 
Pursue me, crying out, woe, woe to lust! 2245 
The foe pursues me at my pallace doore, 
He breakes my test, and spoyles nie in my Camp. 
Ah, flattering broode of çiw_p]zants, my foes! 
First shall my dire reuenge begin on you. 
244 goasts] gifts Q 

I will reward thee, Andrew.-- 22o 
Slip. Nay, sir, if you be in your deeds of charitie, remember me. 
I rubd M(aster) Ateukim horse heeles when he rid to the 
IX. of Scots. And thou shalt haue thy recompence for that.-- 
Lords, beare them to the prison, chaine them fast, 2. 
Vntil we take some order for their deathes. 
And. If so your grace in such sort giue rewards, 
Let me haue nought; I ana content to want. 
.Slip. Then, I pray, sir, giue me all ; I am as ready for a reward 
as an oyster for a fresh tide ; spare not me, sir. 226o 
IX: of Scots. Then hang them both as traitors to the King. 
Slip. The case is altered, sir: fie none of your gifts. What, 
I take a reward at your hands, Maister ! faith, sir, no ; I am 
a man of a better conscience. 
Ix: of Swts. Why dallie you? go draw them hence away. 2265 
Slip. Why, alas, sir, I will go away.--I thanke you, gentle 
friends ; I pray you spare your pains: I will not trouble his 
honors maistership ; ile run away. 
Enter (Oberon) and Antiques, and carrie away the Clowne, he 
makes mo23s , and s23orts , and scornes. 
(Ix: of Scots.) Why stay you ? moue me not. Let search be ruade 
For vile Ateukbt: who so findes him out 227o 
Shall haue fiue hundreth markes for his reward. 
Away with the(m) ! Lords, troop about my tent: 
Let all out Souldiers stand in battaile ray; 
For, Io, the English to their parley corne. 
lIlarc auer rauelie, flrst te English hoste, te sword caried efare 
the King by Percy ; the Scotlish on the other side, with all lheir 
2boe, brauelie. 
A'. of Scots. What seekes the King of ngland in this land ? 27s 
Ix'. of .Eng. False, traiterous Scot, I corne for to reuenge 
My daughters death ; I corne to spoyle thy wealth; 
Since thou hast spoyld me of my marriage ioy ; 
I corne to heape thy land with Carkasses, 
That this thy thirstie soyle, choakt vp with blood, 2280 
May thunder forth reuenge vpon thy head ; 

2272 S. D. marked at 2272 in Z)yce Oberon] Adam Q mo2bs Z)yce : pots Q 
Away with the Lords troupes Q 2280 thirstie] thriftie Q 

I corne to quit thy loueless loue with death: 
In briefe, no meanes of peace shall ere be round, 
Except I haue my daughter or thy head. 
A: afScots. My head, proud King ! abase thy prancking plumes : 
So striuing fondly, maiest thou catch thy graue. 
But if true iudgement do direct thy course, 
These lawfull reasons should diuert the warre : 
Faith, hot by my consent thy daughter dyed. 
_A_: of.Eng. Thou liest, false Scot! thy agents haue confest it. 2290 
These are but fond delayes: thou canst hOt thinke 
_A_ meanes to reconcile me for thy friend. 
I haue thy parasites confession pend; 
What, then, canst thou alleage in thy excuse? 
_z,_: CScots. I will repay the ransome for her bloud. 2295 
A . of.Eng. What, thinkst thou, catiue, I wil sel my Child? 
No, if thou be a Prince and man at armes, 
In singule combat come and trie thy right, 
Else will I prooue thee recreant to thy face. 
Z,_: OEScot«. I brooke no combat, false iniurious King. 2300 
But since thou needlesse art inclinde to warre, 
Do what thou darest ; we are in open field: 
Arming my battailes, I will fight with thee. 
tf. afEng. Agreed.--Now trumpets, sound a dreadfull charge. 
Fight for your Princesse, (my) braue Englishmen! -ao5 
(if. of Scots.) Now for your lands, your children, and your wiues, 
My Scottish Peeres, and lastly for your King! 
larum sounded; both the battailes offer to meet, ., as the Kings 
are ioyning attaile, enter Sir Cuthbert, to him Lady Anderson, with 
tbe Queene Dorothea ricMy attb'ed (and Nano). 
Sir Cut. Stay, Princes, wage not warre: a priuie grudge 
Twixt such as you, (most high in Maiestie,) 
Affiicts both nocent and the innocent. 
How many swordes, deere Princes, see I drawne! 
The friend against his friend, a deadly fiend ; 
A desperate diuision in those lands 
Which, if they ioyne in one, commaund the world. 
Oh, stay! with reason mittigate your rage; 
2282 loueless] laxvless Z)yce afier Collier 2285 plumes 29yce : plaines Q 
2288 diuest sugg. 29yce : deuide Q 292 A meanes for to Q 2800 brooke] 
tgoke Q 208 my] thy Q 2807 S. D. enter Sir Cutber to Ms Lady 
Cutbert Q 81 fiend 29yce : friend Q 


And let an old man, humbled on his knees, 
Intreat a boone, good Princes, of you both. 
K. of.Eng. I condiscend, for why thy reuerend years 
Import some newes of trutb and consequence. 
I ana content, for tnderson I know. 
Ai of Scots. Thou art my subiect and doest meane me good. 
Sir Cuth. But by your gratious fauours grant me this, 
To sweare vpon your sword to do me right. 
K. of/ng. See, by my sword, and by a Princes faith, 
In euery lawfull sort I am thine owne. 2325 
A: of Scots. _And, by my Scepter and the Scottish Crowne, 
I ara resolu'd to grant thee thy request. 
Sir Cuth. I see you trust me, Princes, who repose 
The waight of such a warre vpon my will. 
Now marke my sute. A tender Lyons whelpe, 2330 
This other day, came stragling in the woods, 
Attended by a young and tender hinde, 
In courage haughtie, yet tyred like a lambe. 
The Prince of beasts had left this young in keepe, 
To foster vp as louemate and compeere, 2335 
Vnto the Lyons mate, a naibour friend: 
This stately guide, seduced by the fox, 
Sent forth an eger Woolfe, bred vp in t;rance, 
That gript the tender whelp and wounded it. 
By chance, as I was hunting in the woods, 234o 
I heard the moane the hinde ruade for the whelpe: 
I tooke them both, and brought them to my bouse. 
With charie care I haue recurde the one 
And since I know the lyons are at strife 
About the losse and dammage of the young, 2345 
I bring her home ; make claime to her who list. 
Itee discoueretlz ]er (Queen Dorothea). 
29or. I am the whelpe, bred by this Lyon vp, 
This royall English King, my happy sire: 
Poore 2Vano is the hinde that tended me. 
My father, Scottish King, gaue me to thee, 2350 
A haplesse wife: thou, quite misled by youth, 
Haste sought sinister loues and lorraine ioyes. 

2888 haughtie] haught A)yce 2886 ai and sug'g'. Z)yce 

The fox lteu]dn, cursed Parasite, 
Incenst your grace to send the woolfe abroad, 
The French borne Iaques, for to end my daies: 2355 
Hee, traiterous man, pursued me in the woods, 
And left mee wounded ; where this noble knight 
Both rescued me and mine, and sau'd my life. 
Now keep thy promise: Z)orothea tiues ; 
Giue .Anderson his due and iust reward : 36o 
And since, you Kings, your warres began by me, 
Since I ara sale, returne, surcease your fight. 
K. of Scots. Durst I presume to looke vpon those eies 
Which I haue tired with a world of woes, 
Or did I thinke submission were ynough, 2360 
Or sighes might make an entrance to thy soule, 
You heauens, you know how willing I would weep ; 
You heauens can tell how glad I would submit ; 
You heauens can say how firmly I would sigh. 
Z)or. Shame me not, Prince, companion in thy bed: 2370 
Youth hath misled,--tut, but a little fault : 
Tis kingly to amend what is amisse. 
Might I with twise as many paines as these 
Vnite our hearts, then should my wedded Lord 
See how incessaunt labours I would take.-- 2375 
My gracious father, gouerne your affects : 
Giue me that hand, that oft hath blest this head, 
And claspe thine armes, that haue embraced this (neck), 
About the shoulders of my wedded spouse. 
Ah, mightie Prince, this King and I am one! 2380 
Spoyle thou his subiects, thou despoylest me ; 
Touch thou his brest, thou doest attaint this heart: 
Oh, bee my father, then, in louing him! 
lç: of Eng. Thou prouident kinde mother of increase, 
Thou must preuaile ; ah, nature, thou must rule! 2385 
Holde, daughter, ioyne my hand and his in one ; 
I will embrace him for to fauour thee: 
I call him friend, and take him for my sonne. 
Z)or. Ah, royall husband, see what God hath wrought! 
Thy foe is now thy friend. Good men at armes, 2390 
Do you the like.--These nations if they ioyne, 
9.866 thy Grosart: my Q 9.878 neck supliedby Z)yce 


What Monarch, with his leigemen, in this world, 
Dare but encounter you in open fielde ? 
I(. of Scots. A1 wisedome, ioynde with godly pietie! 
Thou English King, pardon my former youth; 2395 
And pardon, courteous Queen, my great misdeed ; 
And, for assurance of mine after lire 
I take religious vowes before my God, 
To honour thee for father, her for wife. 
Sir Cut]z. But yet my boones, good Princes, are not past. 2400 
First, English King, I humbly do request, 
That by your meanes out Princesse may vnite 
Her loue vnto mine alder truest loue, 
Now you will loue, maintaine, and helpe them both. 
/(. ofEng. Good Anderson, I graunt thee thy request. 24o. 
Sir Cuth But you, my Prince, must yeelde me mickle more. 
You know your Nobles are your chiefest staies, 
And long rime haue been bannisht from your Court: 
Embrace and reconcile them to your selfe: 
They are your hands, whereby you oght to worke. 24IO 
As for .,4teu]dn and his lewde compeeres, 
That sooth'd you in your sinnes and youthly pompe, 
Exile, torment, and punish such as they ; 
For greater vipers neuer may be round 
Within a state then such aspiring heads, 241» 
That reck hOt how they clime, so that they clime. 
l(. of Scots. Guid Knight, I graunt thy sute.--First I submit, 
And humble craue a pardon of your grace :-- 
Next, courteous Queene, I pray thee by thy loues 
Forgiue mine errors past and pardon mee.-- 242o 
My Lords and Princes, if I haue misdone 
(As I haue wrongd indeed both you and yours), 
Heereafter, trust me, you are deare to me. 
As for Ateukbz, who so findes the man, 
Let him haue Martiall lawe, and straight be hangd, 2425 
As all his vaine abetters now are dead. 
And .4nderson our Treasurer shall pay 
Three thousand Markes for friendly recompence. 
]Vano. But, Princes, whilst you friend it thus in one, 

2399 father 19yce : fauour Q 
2t26 arbetters Q dead] diuided Q 

2400-5 Q gives go Za. And. 
2t29 Q gives go Za. And. 

Me thinks of friendship _/Vano shall haue none. 2430 
19or. What would my Dwarfe, that I will hOt bestow? 
_/Vano. My boone, faire Queene, is this,--that you would go: 
Altho my bodie is but small and neate, 
My stomache, after toyle, requireth meate: 
An easie sute, dread Princes ; will you wend ? 2,3s 
Ai of Scots. Art thou a Pigmey borne, my prettie frend ? 
2Vano. Not so, great King, but nature, when she framde me, 
Was scant of Earth, and 2Vano therefore namde me ; 
And when she sawe my bodie was so small, 
She gaue me wit to make it big withall. 24,o 
A'. of Scats. Till rime when ? 
19or. Eate, then. 
A: (of Scots.) My friend, it stands with wit, 
To take repast when stomache serueth it. 
19or. Thy pollicie, my 2Vano, shall preuaile.-- 2 
Corne, royall father, enter we my tent :- 
And, souldiers, feast it, frolike it, like friends :-- 
My Princes, bid this kinde and courteous traine 
Partake some fauours of our late accord. 
Thus warres haue end, and after dreadfull hate, 245o 
Men learn at last to know their good estate. 


2451 learns Q 



Georçe a' Greene, lhe tinner of WakoEeld was first published in 
1599, A Pleasant Conceited Comedie of George a GreenG lhe Pinner 
of WakoEeld. As il ,vas sundry limes acled by the seruants of 
right Honourable the Earle of Sussex. Im2brinted ai London by 
Simon Slafford for Cuthberl Burby : And are fo be sold al his sho# 
neere lhe Royall Exchange, I599.' The naine of the author is hot 
given. It was not, so far as is known , reprinted till it appeared in 
1744 in Dodsley's Old]glays, vol. i. pp. 183 et seq. It was entered on 
the Stationers' Registers, April te I595; the following is the entry 
(Arber, ii. 295 ) :-- 
« primo die Aprilis [1595] 
Entered for Cuthbert-Burby his copie under the wardens handes an Enterlude 
called the Pynder of Wakefeilde... vj°. ' 
The date of its composition and of its first appearance can only be 
conjectured. The earliest notice of it is in Henslowe's Diary, ed. 
Collier, p. 31 :-- 
« Rd at goe a gren, The 29 of I)ecember 1593 - • • iij n xs 
but as he does not mark it as a new play, the presumption is that it 
had been acted before. Henslowe notices it-rive rimes. On the 
8th of January, I59 , it is entered under the title of' the 2biner of 
wiackefelld; which led Steevens, to whom we owe the first transcripts 
from the Diary» to assume that this was another play. It was ascribed, by 
Phillips in his Theatru», toetarum (I675), by Winstanley in his Lires 
ofthe toets (1687), and by Theophilus Cibber, or whoever was re- 
sponsible for the Lires of the toets which goes under his name, to 
John Heywood, presumably because they saw it described on the title- 
page as an interlude. Langbaine  and Ritson  saw that it could hot 
belong to Heywood, but gave no opinion about its authorship. Since 
then a copy of the Quarto of 1599, now in the possession of the Duke 
of Devonshire, was brought to light by Mr. Payne Collier with the 
following notes in manuscript on the title-page :-- 
' Written by... a minister who act[ed] th[e] pifiers pt in it himselfe. Teste 
W. Shakespea[re] 
Ed. Juby saith that yO play was ruade by Ro. Grec[ne].' 
x Lan,baine. however, Account oflhe Jnlish lramatic toets, 1691 , p. 54.% 
speaks somewhat vaguely of it as  a Comedy which I have once seen, prmted m 
4 t°, aS I remember, London, 1632 or thereabouts.' 
 Ibid., p. 26.  Edition of Robin ttoodBalladx, vol. i. xxix. 

These memoranda appear to be by different persons, and to have 
been written ata different time, but the handwriting is that of the 
Elizabethan age. Juby, it may be added, was an actor in Prince Henry's 
Company in I6o4, and had joined Rowley in writing a play called 
Sampso in I6o. 
Dyce expresses no opinion about the authenticity of the play, but 
merely says: oit has been thought right to include in the present 
collection Geore a" Greeze, t/te Pinner of 14akoEeld, in consequence of 
the manuscript notes having been round 12 
Tieck in his Vorrede zu S/zakes2heare , I8z3, says that he is convinced 
the play is by Greene :-- 
« Ich bin jetzt, nachdem ich noch mehr als damals in den Schriftstellern 
dieser alten Zeit gelesen habe, iiberzeugt, dass jenes vortreffliche kleine Lust- 
spiel ebenfalls von R. Greene ist.' 
It must be admitted that this play bas been assigned to Greene on 
very slender evidence ; we have first to assume that the memoranda 
are genulne, that they are those of a contemporary, and entitled 
therefore to the authority which contemporary testimony would 
prima facie possess. In the second place, assuming that they are 
genuine, it is very difiïcult to reconcile them with probability. A 
minister would hot have been allowed to exhibit himself as an actor 
on a public stage, an exhibition which the memorandum plainly implies, 
and, if the play was written by a minister, it is, as I have shown in the 
General Introduction, in the highest degree unlikely that it was written 
by Greene. The « teste William Shakespeare' savours very strongly 
of the kind of inscriptions with which W. H. Ireland was in the habit 
of favouring his friends, and is, to say the least, pregnant with suspicion. 
Again, if we adroit that Juby did say it was written by Greene, we bave 
no means of knowing whether Juby was stating what was correct. 
He may bave been expressing casually a mere opinion of his own, or 
simply retailing what he had vaguely heard. 
If we turn to the play itself, the internal evidence in favour of 
Greene's authorship seems at first sight to incline decidedly towards 
the negative. The versification is much freer and looser than can be 
round in any of his extant plays. Of the mythological allusions in which 
elsewhere he so much delights  there are only three, and those of the 
most cursory and commonplace kind--the reference to Leda and 
Helena, 1. z69, to Hercules, but that is a proverb, 1.479, and to the picture 
of Hercules, 1. 77o. Of the ornate rhetoric, which is an essential 
characteristic of his style in all his other works, there is nothing. Of the 
i See his account of Robert Greene, &c., p. 
 In Orlando 1;urioso there are 69, in t:rier Bacon 49, in Alphonsus 46, in 
.]'ames IV, 4, but in the linner there are only 3; see loberl Greene und 
The play of GeorKe a Greene» by Oscar lertins» Breslau, 1885. 


Euphuism so habitual with him there is hot even a touch; of his 
favourlte employment of the infinitive for the substantive there is hot 
asingle instance. In no other extantplay byhim does thesermo73edestris 
predominate so completely over rhetoric and poetry. There are, as 
Professor Mertins remarks, no Latin and French quotations and words, 
in which he so much delights elsewhere, and a comparative paucity of 
epithet, accumulation, and compound words. And yet I ara inclined 
to think on the whole that the play is his. There is certainly no 
dramatist of those days known to us to whom it could be assigned 
with more probability. The dramais built up exactly as Greene 
usually does build up his dramas--as he built up Alîbhonsus, Frier 
Ba¢on, and James IV. On a pseudo-historical foundation is raised 
a superstructure the materials of which are derived from romance and 
legend. The characters are just t he types of character whieh Greene 
commonly depicted. The world is the world of the Fressingham 
scenes in Frier t?acon and Frier t?ong«y. George a' Greene is of the 
saine family as Lambert, Serlsby, and the Keeper in Trier t?acon, 
and as Bartram and Eustace in James IV. Bettris, though hot 
developed, belongs to the same family as Margaret ; Jenkin is Slipper 
and Miles over again. The King James and Jane a' Barley incident 
reealls the King James and Ida incident in James IV. Grime's falling 
in love with Willie in disguise recalls Lady Anderson's falling in love 
with Dorothea in disguise. In George a' Greene's fidelity to his 
sovereign, in his simplicity, in his bluff hearty geniality, and above all 
in the country air which seems to blow through the play, and in the race 
and gusto with which the rustic charaeters are depicted, in ail this we 
are reminded of Greene. Sometimes in the verse we catch his exact 
note, as here :-- 
• The sweete content of men that liue in loue 
Breedes fretting humours in a restlesse minde; 
And fansie, being checkt by fortunes spire, 
Growes too impatient in ber sweete desires; 
Sweete to those men whome loue leades on fo blisse, 
But sowre to me whose happe is still amisse' (35o-5) 
and here :-- 
' O blessed loue, and blessed fortune both! 
13ut, Bettris, stand hot here to talke of loue 
But hye thee straight vnto thy George a Greene: 
Neuer went Roe-bucke swifier on the downes 
Then I will trip it till I sec my George' (589-93)- 
In single lines and couplets we bave his very echo, as here :-- 
' I haue a louely Lemman, 
As bright of blee as is the siluer moone' (5 xo7-$ ). 
Which may be compared with Frier acon, i. i :-- 
' Her bashfull white mixt with the mornings red 
Zuna doth boast vpon ber louely cheekes" (56-7). 

The whole of the Jane a' Barley episode is exactly in Greene's 
manner. It is perhaps worth noting that his favourite word ' lovely' in 
its natural sense and in its sense of inspiring love, 'amiable,' occurs 
four rimes in the play--'O lovely George,' lovely Marian,' lovely 
leman,' ' lovely lass' ; ' bonny' and ' blithe' are also favourite words 
of his, the first occurs twice in this play, ' bonnie lasses,' ' blithe and 
bonnie,' and 'blithe » three rimes, while the collocation « blithe and 
bonnie' occurs in James IV, ' She's blithe, fair, lewely, bonny: Com- 
pare also the lines :-- 
' To dignifie those hdres of amber hiew 
Ill grace them with a chaplet ruade of pearle, 
Set with choice rubies, sparkes and diamonds' (I98-2oo) 
with the lines in James IV, iv. v :- 
'Go to mine Zda, tell ber that ber haires 
Salbe embellished with orient peafles, 
And Crownes of saphyr»' (1772-4). 
A very favourite synonym for beauty in Greene is  fair,' which occurs 
at least sixteen times in his works, so here 
'Then tell me, loue, shall I haue all thyfMre?' (1. 
Another very favourite word with him is ' leman ' for ' loyer,' and this 
occurs three times in this play. 
Cf. too :-- 
'Alas» sir, it is tZebrue vnto »te' (1. 558) 
with Looking Glasse, i. iii :-- 
' Friend, thou s2beakest I-febre'w to him' (1. 304) ; 
also :-- 
'trother of lngland, tub not the sore afresh' (1. 736) 
with James IV, i. i :-- 
« trother of England, since out neighbonring lands," &c. ; 
again : 
' Least I, like marliall Tamberlaine, lay waste 
Their bordering Countries,' &c. (43-4), 
cf. Al#honsus, iv. iii :-- 
' Not miffhtie TamberlalnG 
or soulàiers,' &c. (1444-5) ; 
again : 
' Let me alone, my Lord, Ile make them 
Vayle their 2Mumes' (46-7), 
cf. Orlando Furioso, v. i :-- 
' Then maist thou think that Mars himself 
Came down, to vaile lky tlumes' (t24o-i). 
But it is when we compare this play with the two which invite 
comparison, namely Munday's Dawnfall of lobert tarl of ttunlinfflon, 
and the play he wrote in conjunction with Chettle, Te Deal]t of toberl 
Farl ofttunlinfflon, that we realize the impression of Greene's hand; 

and the impression is confirmed when we compare the method 
employed in moulding the play out of the materials furnished by the 
prose history, with the method employed in moulding Frier 2aco, 
and Frier 2ongay out of the old prose history. In both cases a love- 
story is grafted on the original narrative. In the Pinner the centre 
of it is Bettris, in Frier 2acon it is Margaret. In both cases this is 
made, if not the chier, at least a very important element in the plot, and 
in both cases its happy event crowns the play. In both plays royal 
historical personages are introduced. In the Pizner we have Edward 
King of tLngland and James King of Scotland: in Frier 2?acon we 
have King Henry III and Edward Prince of Wales. I have already 
directed attention to the points of similarity between the Pinner and 
James IV, and another may be added here. In both plays it is 
assumed that the action is based on historical fact, in both cases 
there is no foundation at ail for such assumed fact, and, if any positive 
test be applied, neither play will bear examination for a moment. In 
spite of the Pinner's unlikeness in some important respects toJames IV 
and to Frier t?acon, it gives us the impression of being a study-- 
a hurried and sketchy study--by the saine hand. 
The play has been hot only very badly printed, the printer being 
uncertain what should be presented as prose and what as verse, but it 
bas evidently been printed from a confused and mutilated copy. 
After the scene betveen King James and Jane a' Barley, a scene has 
evidently dropt out or been cut down to two lines. The omission of 
any reward to Robin Hood at the end of the play is a very strong 
presumption that the close has been mutilated. In the third scene of 
the fourth act there is hopeless confusion, Wakefield having been put 
for Bradford. Passages are constantly occurring, both in the prose 
portions as well as in the verse, which have evidently been curtailed. 
It is possible that if we possessed the drama in its original form we 
should have been able to final further and much more satisfactory 
internal evidence in favour of the play being from Greene's pen. 
On the whole, then, though the evidence in favour of Greene's 
authorship of the tinner is far from conclusive, it is sufficient to 
warrant us in including it tentatively among his works, and is certainly 
not so decisive against him as to justify its exclusion. For my own 
part, I think the balance of probability inclines, though not quite 
decisively, in favour of Greene. If the choice lay between him and 
any other playwright whose works are knovn to us, I should hot 
hesitate to declare for Greene. But when we remember how many 
plays and playwrights have perished without leaving any trace 
behind them it xvould be the height of rashness to speak confidently. 
With the exception of a few unimportant collateral details, and the 
episode of the King of Scotland and Jane a' 13arley, this play is founded 
on a romance, the earliest printed copy of which is dated 7o6. It was 

published by an editor signing hirnself N.W. In his preface le says, 
' As for the history itself its very easie to observe by its phraseology and 
manner ofwriting that 'ris not very modern, but that the MS. must be 
at least as old as the days of Queen Elizabeth. It's lodged in a public 
library in the city of London, from which a copy was taken and is now 
ruade public with no other alteration than such as were (sic) neces- 
sary to make the sense tolerably congruous.' The h[S. referred to 
is now in the library of Sion College, where Thoms, who reprinted in 
his tarly tïnglis Romances the romance as it was published by 
N. W., inspected and collated it. ]3y the great kindness of the 
authorities of Sion College I bave been allowed to make a transcript 
of the MS., the greater part of which will be found in the Appendix to 
this Introduction. It will be seen that neither N. W.'s version nor 
Thoms's, who followed him, is altogether faithful, while the spelling bas 
been modernized throughout by them. The MS. is a small folio very 
legibly written and in excellent preservation. The handwriting is that 
of the later sixteenth or early seventeenth century. It begins without 
any introduction, and the title-page runs thus 
' The famouus Hystory off 
George a Greeae 
Piader off the Towne off 
His Byrthe, Callinge» Valour 
And reputation in his 
With Dyverse and Soondry 
pleasant as well as serious 
In the Coorse off his lyffe and 
Farnarn extendere Factis 
Hoc virtutis opus. 
Virg : lib : Aeneida : IO.' 
This is undoubtedly the romance on which this play was founded 
whether the author of the play read the romance in manuscript, or 
whether some printed edition of the pre-Elizabethan or Elizabethan 
age bas perished, can only be raatter of conjecture. In the Bodleian 
Library is another romance printed in black-letter in I632 with the 
following title-page :-- 
' The Pinder of Wakefield : 
13eing the merry History of George a Greene 
the lusty Pinder of the North. 
13riefly shewing his manhood and his brave 
Merriments amongst bis boone Companions. 
A pill fit to purge Melancholy in this 
drooping age, 
Read, then jtdge» 


16 5 

XVith the great I3attel fought betwixt him and 
Robin Hood, Scarlet and litfle John, 
And after of his living with them in 
the Woods. 
Full of pretty Histories, Songs, Catches, 
Jests, and Ridles. 
19rinted by G. P. for E. I31ackamoore, dwelling in 
t'aul's Churchyard at the signe of the Angell, 632.' 
It is in two parts, the first containing sixteen chapters, and the 
second three. It narrates the birth and parentage of George a' Greene, 
his various exploits, his bouts with Robin Hood, his jests, and the like. 
13ut it says nothing of Kendall's rebellion, and bas hot been followed 
by the author of the play. It winds up with a variation of the I3. L. 
ballad which is printed in the Appendix to this Introduction. 
In the plot of this drama are blended two cycles of ballad 
romances which are generally connected, those of which the Pinner is 
the hero, and those of which Robin Hood is the hero. The literature 
of the Elizabethan age is full of references to the famous Pinner, who 
had long been the hero of popular ballads. There is a reference 
to him in The Downfall of Robert Pari of l-[uttitgtot, iii. i :-- 
' Good George a' Greene at 13radford was out friend, 
And wanton Wakefield's Pinner loved us well.' 
The ballad is frequently quoted and referred to, see 1)ownfall, v. i ; 
Shakespeare's lerry Wives of l'Vizdsor, i. i, and o. ltenr.v IV,, v. iii. 
For more see Ritson's Introduction to the Robin ltood tallads. Drayton, 
in the twenty-sixth song of the 19olyolbion, classes him with Robin 
Hood ; Richard I3rathwayte, in his poetical lïîbislle to all trzte-bred 
Northern sahark of rite g'enerous Society of the Cottoneers and in his 
Straîbibadofor lhe Divdl, bas this notice of him :-- 
' The first whereof that I intend to show 
Is merry Wakefield, and ber pindar too 
Which fame bath blaz'd with ail that did belong 
Unto that towne in many gladsome song. 
The pindars valour and how firme he stood 
In th' townes defence 'gainst th' rebel Robin Hood ; 
How stontly he behaved himselfe, and would 
In spire of Robin bring his horse to th' fold. 
His many May games which vere to be seene 
Yearly presented upon Wakefield greene.' 
And in larzabee'sJournal there is the following account of him in 
his description of a visit to ,Vakefield :-- 
' Hinc diverso cursn, sero 
Quod andissem de pindero 
Wakefieldensi : gloria mundi 
Ubi socii sunt iucundi: 


Mecum statui peragrare 
Georgii fustem visitare. 
C Turning thence none could me hinder 
To salute the Wakefield pindar, 
Who indeed is the worlds glory 
With his comrades never sorrye. 
This was the cause, less you should misse it 
Georges Club I meant to visit. 
' Veni Wakefield peramoenum 
Ubi quaerens Georgium Greenum 
Non inveni, sed in lignum 
Ubi allam bibi feram 
Donec Georgio fortior eram. 
' Straight at Wakefield I was seen a 
Where I sought for George a Green a, 
But could find hot such a creature, 
Yet on a sign I saw his feature 
Where strength of aie had so much stir'd me 
That I grew stouter far than Jordie." 
It may be added that the Pindar of Wakefield was a common sign 
for a public-bouse, and is still retained as a title, as an inn in Gray's 
Inn Road testifies to the present day. The honest Pindar's virtues 
passed also into a proverb, and 'as good as George a' Greene' was often 
on the lips of our ancestors. 
As it is impossible to settle the dates of our old plays, we cannot say 
whether Robin Hood had already been popular on the stage through the 
anonymous comedy Zook abotel Vote and through the two plays written 
respectively by !Munday, and by Munday and Chettle, or whether this 
play preceded those. For Robin Hood and his circle, and their 
connexion with the Pinner of Wakefield, see Ritson's excellent rnlro- 
duclion la lhe lobin Iood lallads and the Ballads themselves. For 
the details referred to or described in the play see the Notes. 
The episode of Jane a' Barley and her child may have been sug- 
gested by the story of Caterina Sforza, whom Caesar Borgia, when he 
was besieging Forli, tried to force into surrender by threatening to 
execute ber children who were in his possession on the plain outside 
the castle. In that case, as in the play the resolute mother preferred 
her honour and her castle to the lives of her children 1. See IFIuratori 
Annales, vol. xi. p. 556. 
Greene's admirers may well be unwilling to deprive him of the 
honour of having vritten this play. If it be his it is one of the most 
pleasing and one of the most skilfully constructed of his dramas. The 
plot, simple though it be, is admirably complicated and diversified. 
The Jane a' Barley incident is hOt, it is true, properly developed, and 
t lIy friend Mr. P. A. Daniel has pointed out to me that Barnab';e Barnes in 
his Z)evil's Charter, iv. iv, bas dramatized this incident. 


leaves a ragged end in the fabric, but that is probably not the fault of 
the author, for this portion of the play has ail the appearance of having 
been cruelly mutilated. The principal character, the Pinner, is a 
delineation which is quite admirable, and shows more dramatic power 
than Greene has elsewhere displayed, at least in drawing men. Old 
Musgrove is also a sketch which lives. Though the test of the 
dramatis personae are somewhat rhin, King James's 'Not thine, but 
fortunes prisoner' (1. 34I) is a touch which would have done honour to 
Shakespeare. This attractive play is in truth one of the best of those 
realistic studies of characteristic English life which have eome down to 
us from the Elizabethan age. 
It will be seen on comparing the drama with the prose narrative, 
which is here for the first time printed exactly according to the old 
copy, that the dramatist has followed his original very closely, his only 
important deviations from it being these: he has substituted King 
Edxvard for King Richard, and James King of Scotland for the Earl of 
Leicester ; he has introduced a war between England and Scotland and 
the episode of Jane a' Barley ; he has not identified Grime with the 
Justice belote whom Bonfield and Kendall are taken ; and he has hot 
represented Robin Hood as being rewarded by the king. 


The famouus Hystory off 
George a Greene 
Pinder off the Towne off 
His Byrthe, Callinge, Valour 
And reputation in his 
With Dyverse and Soondry 
pleasant as well as serious 
In the Coorse off his lyffe and 
Famam extendere Factis 
Hoc virtutis opus.--- 
Virg : lib : Aeneida: lO. 
CAPP. 1--2. 
(Birth, Parentage, chosen as Pinder of Wakefield, afler proving his 
efficiency for the office by a bout of quarter-staffs with several champions.) 
CP. 3- 
...... and as hee attracted the harts off ail the men so questionles 
his valour there expressed havinge a correspondence to his ffayre and 


gentle carriadge beeffore kn(o)wne. Interested hirn in the boosorns off 
many wornen, especially off one ffayre damsell whose naine was 
13eatryce the only Doughter and Heyre to a Riche Justyce off a ffayre 
reuenewe and off no rneane reputation in the Coontreye ; who beeinge 
the prime bewtye in ail those Northerne parts was soon espyde by 
George at such Interims off breathinge when havinge ffoyld one 
champion, hee cast his eye about till hec perceived another to appeare 
beeffore hirn, &c. 

CAP. 4. 
Off a greate Insurrection in the Kingdom made by the Earle off 
Kendall and his complices. By reason off a vayne prophesye, and 
howe George a Greene derneaned him, selff towards the rebells, &c. 
...... an Insurrection was raysed by the Earle off Kendall, with 
dyverse off his adherents as the Lord Bonvyle, S ° Gilbert Armstronge, 
and others. These havinge gathered an army off some twenty thousand 
discontents ruade publick proclamation that hee carne into the ffeild 
flot no other cause but to purchase his coontrye rnen libertye and to 
ffree thern ffrorn the greate and insufferable oppression wch they 
then lyud in vnder the prince and the prelate 
(These were Prince John and the Bishop of Ely during Richard?s 
wch drewe vnto hirn many ffollowers ffor the present, in so much 
that hee seerned to have ledd a very potent arrnye: But the maine 
reason off his gatheringe this seditious assernbly was Bycause that 
when hee was but a child A wysard had prophesyde off him that 
Richard and hee should meete in London, and the Kinge shoold 
theare vayle his bonnet vnto him: wch prediction off the Suthsayer 
prooued after to bec trewe, but not as hee (voyly or) reyly (?) had 
expownded it: the Earle havinge ledd his Armye into the Northe 
stroke a greate terror into all those honest subiects that tendered 
theire allegeance to theire absent Kinge and Souereinge And wished 
well to the good off the cornmon weale and saffetye off the Kingdom ; 
yet many were fforct threwe ffeare to supply his host with needeffull 
prouision least otherwyse hee should haue rnade spoyle and hauock 
off ail wch they had Beeinge all that tyme destute off rnany thinges 
vseffull and cornodious flot the Armye and incampinge some ffyue 
rnyles ffrorn the towne of "Wakefeld, the three confederates drewe 
a Comission, And havinge signed it wth theire (?) three Seales sente 
it by one Manneringe a servant off the Earles vnto the Bayly and 
townes men off Wakefeild : requiringe in seeminge intreaty to send 
vnto his hoast so rnuch provition off corne and cattle, with other 
provant off wch he was then necessitous and wth all so much rnonye 
as would pay the rnanye soldiers, to wch this Manneringe was to 
perswade them by all ffayre rneanes possible, but Iff they should 

denye hls request to menace them wth ffyrre and swoord, wth all the 
violence that Hostility could threaten. The newes off this Comission 
cominge to theare knowledge, the Bayly sent a broad to the neigh- 
bouringe Justyces, as to Mr. Grymes, and others, so that hee and his 
]3retheren appointed to giue them a meetinge in the towne howse 
where manye off the comoners were to bee present, amongst others 
George a Greene purposed to bee theare to kn(o)we what would 
beecom off the businesse : 
(The assembly wavered as to the answer to be given to the 
wch Manneringe seeinge wth out dooinge any reverence att all 
vnto the bench beegan to alter his phrases, and change the Coppy 
off his Countenance, ffyrst tauntinge and derydinge theare ffaynt 
harted cowardyce. And after threateninge them that Iff they gaue 
not present satisfaction vnto his Demand the army would Instantly 
remooue, make havocke and spoyle off theare goodds and chatters, &c. 
...... Att wch hawty and Insufferable menaces whylst the Bench 
satt quakinge, George pressethe fforward in the fface off the Coort, 
and desyrethe by the ffavour off the benche, to have the libertye 
accordinge to his plainesse and weake vnderstandinge to giue the 
messanger an answer, wch beeinge granted hee boldly stepps vnto him 
and demands his name, who made him Answer, that his naine was 
Manneringe, Manneringe saythe hee that naine was Ill bestowde on 
one that can so ffar fforgett all manners as to stand couered beeffore 
a benche vpon wch the maiestye off his Souer(i ?)ainge was presented : 
wch manners s(a)ythe hee synce thou wantest, I will teach thee, and 
vth all snatchinge his hatt ffrom his head ffyrst trad vpon it and then 
spurned it beeffore him att wch the other beeinge inradged, asked him 
howe hee durst to offer that violence vnto one that brought so stronge 
a comission: your comission saythe George I cry you mercy Syr 
I hadd fforgott that : and wth all desyred ffauour off the benche, that 
hee might haue the libertye to peruse it: wch beeinge granted him, 
I marry saythe hee (havinge read it) I canott chuse but submitt my 
selff vnto this authority, and makinge an offer, as iff hee ment to kiss 
it toute it in peeces: wch Manneringe seeinge beegan to stampe, 
stare and swe(a ?)re. But George takinge him fast by the collar, so 
shooke him, as iff he had purposed to make all his bones loose in his 
skin, and drawinge his Dagger and poyntinge it to his boosm, told hirn, 
hee had devysed physicke to purge his collericke bloode and gatheringe 
vpp the three Seales tould him, it was these three pills wch hee must 
Instantly talle and swallowe or neuer more return to his mayster nor 
did hee leaue him, nor take his dagger ffrom his brest till hee had 
seene it doon: and after vhen hee perceiued that they had all most 
choaked him in the goinge downe, hee cald ffor a boule off ale, &c. 


CAP. 5. 
Howe George writt a letter to ffayre 13ettryce w(hi)ch was deliuered 
vnto her and off the success theroff, wth other accidents pertinent to 
the Hystory. 
(The letters exchanged are given, both being poems.) 
(The Earl and the others invited themselves to Grymes's house in 
order to court fair ]3eatrice, of whose beauty they had heard. The 
Earl makes love to her, promising to make her a Countess.) 
But on the morrowe they took leaue off Mr. Grimes and his ffayre 
doughter, and cominge to the army they beegan to laye there heads 
together and to consult howe to kill the pinder in whose only vaIor 
(by Mannerings report) the whole spyritt and strengthe off the towne 
consisted: whylst theas things were thus debatinge S a William 
Musgraue a graue ould Knight assotiated with his young soon Cuddy 
Musgraue, a valiant and hopeffull gentleman had raysed a small power 
in the absent Kinges behalff who thoughe ffewe in nomber waited the 
opportunity vpon the least advantage to sett vpon the rebells, but they 
were so strongly incamped that he coold not yet doo it with out greate 
hazard vnto his person and people: In which distraction I must 
le(i ?)ue them ffor a whyle to speake off other accidents pertinent to 
the story. 
CAP. 6. 
Howe George a Greene surprised a spye wch was sent by the rebells 
to beetrye Handoun or Sandon Castle, off wch S e William Musgraue 
and his soon Cuddy had the keepinge and off sundry other passadge 
(not in the play). 
CAP. 7. 
Off Robin Hoodd, Mayde Marian And his (boold or) bould yomen : 
And howe enuyinge the ffame off George a Greene And the Rumor off 
the bewty off ffayre Beatryce coold not bee in quiet till itt could bee 
tryde whether Robinn or Geoge were the valiantest or shee and 
Beatryce the ffareste. 
(Speeches and songs not in play--Marian is cast down at the 
report of the valour of George a Greene and the beauty of Beatryce, 
and after freely uttering her thoughts she) then ffurther conceld (?) 
him that ffor boathe there honours they should trauell as ffar as 
Wakeffeld : where hee should try maystryes wth George to prooue 
wch was the better man and shee to showe her selff vnto Bettryce by 
wch trewe judgment might giue (?) vpp wch was the ffayrer woman . . 
.... hee gaue instantly order ffor his jorny, but priuately bycause 
beeinge taken ffrom his guard off Archers (Hee beeinge outlawed) itt 
might prooue soin danger vnto his person, hee therffore selected out off 
the rest only three the stowtest amongst his crew namely Slathlock (?) 
little John and the ffryar ffor his attendants, &c. 


CAP. 8. 
Howe the Earle off Kendall and the L : Bonvyle layde an Ambush 
to betray George a Greene and the successe theroff, howe hec pre- 
uented the Earles pollycy and what happened therupon. 
As the ffame off Greene grew greater and greater, so the displeasure 
off the barons was increased against him more and more ........ 
whereffore they hauinge placed a stronge ambush priuattly Him selff 
Bonvyle and Manneringe thinkinge to lay a bate flot him att which 
he could hOt chuse but bec nibblinge beeinge well rnounted brooke 
downe a stronge ffence and putt in theare horses to ffeede in the Corne ; 
George whose carefull ey was euer watchffull ouer his businesse soone 
espyde ther and cald his boye commandinge him to dryue thern to 
the pond. These there disguised asked him what hec purposed to doo 
wth there horses whether to steale thern beeffore theare ffa(i)ces and 
beegan to offer the ladd violence wch George perceivinge and as 
yet hot kn(o)winge them tould them Itt was greate discourtesy In 
gentlemen such as they seerned to bec to doo Indurye (?) in that 
nature and then to rnaintayne it beeinge doon wch the Earle hauinge 
answered him againe (?) that those horses beelonged vnto them were 
putt into the corne off purpose and there they should ffeede in 
despight off him or who should saye nay. The Pinder seeinge no 
more to appeare thought that theire greate woordes should hOt so 
carrye it awaye and tould them in pl(a)yne termes a fforffett they had 
rnade and an amends they should rnake or as they ridd on Horsback 
thither they should trauell on ffoott home and that hec swore (by no 
beggars) but by the lyre off good Kinnge Richard hec would sec per- 
forrned. The Earle hearinge him naine the Kinge tould him that hec 
was but a base groome and peasant and had affronted one that ere 
longe woold be Kinge Richards better. The woord was no sooner 
ffrom his lypps but George whose loyalty could not Indure such 
indignity breath(e)d against his souereigne stroke him wth his staffe 
a sound blowe betwixt the neck and shoulders tellinge him that hec 
lyed lyke a trator &c. &c. (The watchword is giuen to the ambushe 
which George seeinge he apprehends that his safest coorse was to vse 
pollicy--craued a parley which was with some difîiculty obtained 
Discourse of George Bonvyle perswaded the Erle to take his 
(George's) frendly offer, who spoke to hirn frendly after this manner) 
lIy raysinge in armes is to suppresse the insolycyes (?) off a proude 
prince and an Insolent prelate who too rnuch insult vpon the priui- 
ledges and libertyes off the comon weale, ffor the general good 
I stand : But the greatest Inducement that drewe mee into this coorse 
was a wizards most infallid (?) prophisye (?) who at my very byrthe 
thus calculated off rny natyvity that Kinge Richard and I should meete 
in London and hee vayle his bonnett vnto rnee. 


(George, in the course of his answer says--) 
There is an ould (or auld) reverent man in a Caue hot ffar hence (?) 
who is a grêate predicter and was neuer kn(o)wne to fayle in that 
speculation. Itt were hot thereffore amisse to take his advice (?) and 
to see howe nearly his calculation imper 1 (?) with the former. Please 
you this night to take such simple provition as my poore cottadge can 
affoord, my boye shall leade you to his caue where you may be 
satisfied of(f) all your doubts and diflïcultyes ........ The boy 
conducts them thither whefi the pinder hauinge disguised himself lyke 
an ould Hermitt such as hee had beeffore described : coonterffetinge 
his voyce, tould them off all such thinges as they had beeffore related 
vnto him art wch thêy wondered callinge them particular]y by theare 
names and discoueringe vnto them the Intent off theire cominge: 
breiffly in this there amaz(?)ment, hee fflinges off his coonterffett 
habitt And wth his good staff wch never ffayled him art his neede, Hee 
so beestyrd him selff that after soin small resistance s(a)yinge (?) hee 
had n(o)we (?) tookê them wth out there ambush. Hee ffyrst disarmed 
them then cêasd (?) them as his prisoners and hauinge prouided 
certaine officers wth a stronge guard sent them to the Howse of 
Iustyce Grymes : by him to bee saffely conveiyd to London, to beê dis- 
posed off by the Kinge who was n(o)we (?) returned (?) ffrom the holy 
warrs in Palestyne. 

CAl.. 9" 

Howe George a Greene havinge ceazed the arch rebells: plotted 
a meanes howe to bee possessed off his best beeloued ]3ettryce, and 
whatafter beecame off Armstronge and the armye. As the Pinder was 
vigilant and careffull ffor the honour off the Kinge and the good off 
the comon weale so lykewyse he was hot altogether fforgettffull off his 
own private affayres especially off that great affection wch hee boure 
to ffayre Beatrice, beetwixt whome att all convenient opportunity there 
had past enterchange off letters shee hauing protested vnto him to 
intermitt (?) no occation to ffree her selff ffrom the close keepinge off 
her ffathers howse and to ffly flot the reffuge (?) off her liberty to fflye 
into his armes as a sanctuarye. Hee thereffore devysed that his boy 
,Villy should putt himse]ff into the habbitt of a sempsters mayde and 
ffurnishinge him wth lace bands and comodityes beelonging vnto the 
trade, should without suspition gett admittance vnto ber, ffortune so 
well ffavored the enterpryse that the boy came to showe his vares, 
when her ffather was busiêd in receê(a?)uinge thê Earlê of Kêndall and 
his complyces : By reason off wch present troble hee cast no curious 
eyes vpon the ladd but that hee was ffreely admitted to showe his 
wares to his doughter who was then in ber chamber, who was no 

 May be 'jumpes.' 

sooner enter'd but shuttinge the doore hee disclosed him selff w(i)th 
the Intent of his comminge namely that Beatryce should putt herselff 
into that habitt off a sempster, mufflinge her fface as Iff shee had the 
toot-ach, (ffor in that posture the boy came in) and taking her box, 
and laces, and passe througe(h?) the gate lee(a?)vinge him in her habitt 
to answer her ffather: and to stand the perill att all adventure: gladd 
was ffayre Beatryce off the notion and with as muche speede as 
willingness shifted off her owne cloathes to putt on the others. Willy 
was as nimble as shee and was soone ready to be taken flot Mrs 
Beatryce as shee ffor a sempsters servant who by holdinge her 
handkercher beeffore mouthes as trobled w(i)th a payne in her teethe 
past throughe the howse and so out off the gate unquestiond, where 
wee le(e?)ue her onward on her waye towards Wakeffeild, and Willy in 
her chamber to answer her escape, and returne to Armstronge, who 
in the Earles absence had the chardge off the Campe who thinkinge 
him selff as secure as the Earle had showed to bee negligent, was sett 
vpon in the night by S ° William Musgraue and his son Cuddy, who 
tooke them when they were careles and asleepe by w(hi)ch meanes 
they quite discomffited the whole army, and younge Cuddy ffightinge 
with Arme-stronge took him prisoner hand to hand, gladd off such a 
present to welco the Kinge home ffro the holly watts, and with 
that purpose ruade present preparation to hast with him vppe to 
London, and present him with his servyce (?) vnto the Kinge. 
(A scene where Grymes goes to his daughter's chamber and finds 
Willy--not in play.) 
CAP. I0. 
Off that wch happened betwixt Robin Hoodd and his Marian and 
George a Greene and his Bettryce. How there greate opposition was 
ai leng(t)h reconsiled and off other accidents pertinent to the story. 
The greate joy wch was at he meetinge off George and his Beatryce 
was vnspeakable and the rather bycause so vnexpected yet as there 
is no daye so clere but there will appeare sol clowde or other to 
eclipse the bewty off the skye, so in there greate Alacritye and 
abondance off present content there vas one thinge that appeard 
troblesoffa and greivous vnto them boathe namely the danger that 
Willy had incurd ffor there sakes ffor wch no suddeine remedye could 
bee devysed ffe(a)ringe least the justyce so mocked and deluded might 
use him wth no comon rigour and violence. To expell wch melan- 
choly and w(i)thall to devyse the most saffe course flot his deliverye 
George one eueninge tooke her by the arme willinge to showe her the 
pleasant and delightffull ffeilds ffull off greene corne and that shee 
might take the beneffitt off the ffreshe and wholesome Ayre (or Ayer) 
when on the sudden they mlght espy a company off rude and irregular 
ffellowes (as they thought) breake a wide gappe through an Hedge, 



pluck vpp the stakes and without makinge choyse off any path tread 
downe the corne and make towards theff, wch iniury George in his 
greate spyritt hot able to surfer, ruade as much hast to meete ther 
though Bettryce by much intreatye would have held him backe : but 
the nature off so willffull a wronge preuaylinge aboue her intreatye or 
the care off his owne saffety hee tooke his staffe froffa his necke and 
badd thela stand and to giue him not only an account, but present satis- 
faction and recompence ffor the damadge they hadd doon. Robin and 
his company had left offthere fforest greene and there bowes and arroves 
beehind and had only xveopend themselves wth good stronge quarter 
staffs accordinge to the ffashion off the coontry: who se(e or i)minge 
to take the pinders affront in greate scorne (?)tould him that all wayes 
were a like to them they were travellers and when (?) they coold make 
the next waye they saw (?) no reason they had, to goe about, &c., &c. 
(The Pinder challenges them to fight him one by one, vhich they do.) 
Longe it lasted, and w(i)th greate difficulty wch should bee victor . . . 
.... Art lengthe boathe beeinge tyred and weary, saythe Robin 
hold thy hand noble Pinder ffor (I protest) thou art the stowtest man 
that euer I yet layde my hand on: to whome the Pinder answered 
recall thy woord ffor thou neuer yet layde an hand on me. Robin 
replyde againe nor will I noble George but in Curtesye : Knowe then 
I ara Robin Hood, this my Marian and these my bold yomen, &c. 
(Their friendship, Marian and Beatryce embrace.) 

CAP. I I. 
Howe Kinge Richard after his returne by meanes off many com- 
plaints made vnto him ordered those absus w(hi)ch in his absense had 
been comitted by the prince and byshopp howe the rebells vere 
presented vnto him and his disposinge off them and howe George a 
Greene was reported off to the Kinge ....... Those (reformes) 
beeinge broughte to sofia reasonable effect Hee then beegan to 
consider offffresh fforces to bee suddenly raysed towards the suppression 
off those rebells in the northe; in the middst off these considerations 
there arryved att London: young Cuddy Musgraue wth S e Guilbert 
Armestronge and presented hiff a prisoner to the Kinnge telling the 
manner off his surprysal and howe the greate army was deffeated, wch 
was much furthered by the meanes off one George a Greene, pinder 
offthe towne offWakerfeild ...... The Kinnge had scarce le(a ?)sure 
to comend theire care and diligence and to make sufficient inquiry 
what beecame off the other who were the cheiffe off the rebellion but 
Justyce Grymes arrived lykewyse and presented as ffror George a 
Greene the Earle of Kendall, the Lord Bonvyle, and Manneringe 
prisoners wth such an exact (?) testimonye off the Pinders valour 
( ....... ) that his maiesty made open protestation that hee was 
prowde to haue so good and valiant a subiect : when turning towards 

the Earle off Kendall, the King in mere derysion vayled his bonnett 
vnto him and sayde wthall my Lord you are velcome to London, &c. 
.... Breiffly the rebells were all comitted to the tower there to 
abyde till theire ffurther triall. This doon the Kinge inquiringe 
ffurther off the pinder and ffindinnge more and more to bee spoken off 
his commendation, purposed to disguise him selff and wth the Earle 
off Lester only who had bin a copartner wth him in his watts and 
Cuddy Musgraue flot theire guide and conduct to trauell into the 
northe ...... 

CAP. I2. 
Off the towne off merry Bradstad And a custom therein cald Trayl- 
staff obserued by the shoo-makers otherwyse cald the gentle craft: 
Howe the Kinge Lester and Cuddy past through this Towne and off 
there meetinge wth Robin Hoodd and George a Greene and what 
ffurther happned. 
Theare is a towne hot fiat ffrom Wakefeild wch is cald merry 
Bradstead where the shoo-makers haue by lounge tradition obserued 
a custom that no man off what degree soeuer shall walk throowe the 
towne wth his staff vpon his sholders vnlesse hee will haue a bout or 
too wth soin one or other off the gentle craft. But iff hee trayld itt 
after him hee might passe peacably whout any troble or molestation 
flot there was none that would saye so much as black was his eye. 
Itt so happened that the kinnges way wth Lesters and Cuddyes 
happened to bee (by or) ly throowe this towne who beeinge disguised 
lyke coontry yomen and it seems not well acquainted wth the custom 
lyke honest playne trauells (as the use was then) walked bouldly, wth 
theire staues vpon theire neckes, wch espyde by the shoomakers, three 
stowte ffellowes off the trade wth every one a good staff in his hand 
stept out of there shoppe and beate theires ffrom theire shooldries. 
The Kinnge having had gentle entertai(n)ment in all places else 
woondered at such rudenes and gently demanded off them the reason 
offthat violence then offered them : who answered him againe that itt 
was a privilidge they had wch had bin obserued tyme out off mynd :- 
(more questioning and answering and then) 
The Kinnge tould them that they were peacable men and rather than 
to breake theire custom or to enter into any vnnecessary quarrell they 
would dragge there staues after them, and so did. 
Whylst these thinge were debatinge came George a Greene dis- 
guised, Robin Hood and his yomen wth every one a good sound batt 
upon his necke. George havinge tould Robin beeffore what custom 
the madd merry shoomakers maintaind: and bringinge him that 
waye off purpose only ffor sport and to trye what mettall they had in 
them espyde the kinge, Lester» and Cuddy to trayle there staues after 
them, att wch sight beinnge mooued, see Robin (saythe hee) three 

lusty, able, proper ffellowes, that dooe hot advance there staues ffor 
ffere (or ffeare) off the shoomakers. Askinge Robin Hoodd what hec 
thought off them to whome hec answered that hec tooke them to bec 
base cowardly persons: and that it was pitty such goodly shapes 
should eouer sueh timorous and degenerate spyritts: wch cowardyce 
sayth George I will presently correcte in them, and comminge close 
vpp vnto them, he ffyrst beegan to vpbrayde them wth there ffeare and 
basenes and after conduded that iff they did not presently rayse there 
staues and beare them vpp mauger any that should date to interpose 
them, or hee himselff woold cudgell them more soundly flot shoowinge 
themselves than the townsmen were able to doo, had they exprest 
themselves to be valiant : To whome the kinnge answered, that hec was 
neuer putt to such an hard choyse as to be beaten f-fight or f-fight not, 
only excused him and the rest that they were trauellers, men of peace, 
and altogether vnacquainted with such hard customis: His woords 
were scarce ended but out came a erewe off shoo makers euery man 
well appointed and tould them that euen they should obey there 
custom badd them downe wth there may poles and wth all began to 
stryk(e ?) there staues ffrom there necks: 
(A great combat ensues. The shoomakers, as soon as they reeognise 
the Pinder, submit. George eommands a barrel of the best and strongest 
Then George intreatinge them (..) to bidd his ffrends welcoN, weh 
came about them lyke gnatts. But when George had tould them who 
they were, namely Robin Hood and his bould yomen who had traueld 
as ffar as Sherwood fforest to prooue what mettall was in there 
ffraternity : this was as good as euery man a plaster to his broken 
head : ...... 
AI1 this the Kinge observinge and perceivinge the too prime rnen 
to be there present whome he had such greate desyre to sec hec cald 
to Cuddy and bidd him provide him a regall habitt redy wch hec had 
caused to bec brought wth him vpon any needeffull occation. 
(The Pinder drinks the King's health ; it is to go round among the 
company, and he says--) 
Only I accept ffrom this healthe those cowardly trauellers vnvoorthy 
to pledge so brave and valiant a prince who ffor ffere durst not carry 
there staues vpon there shoolders: Off went the health wth a greate 
showte and was f-fild for Robin wch he had no sooner turned off but 
the Kinnge hauinge cast a princly mantle about him, and Lester and 
Cuddy fflunge off there disguised habitts stept in amongst them (cràves 
leave to be reckoned the third man to drink his own health. The 
shoemakers think they are doomed to the ga]lows. 
But att lengthe the Pinder (whome nothing saue so greate a maiesty 
was able to daunt), recollecting him selff most humbly submitted vnto 
the Kinnge desyring his grace and pardon ffor those rude and un- 

civill insolencyes comltted against his sacred maiesty: whome the 
Kinnge as graciously pardond: and takinge Robin Hood ffrom his 
knee, saluted him by the naine off Robert Earle off Huntingdon 
assuringe him vpon his Kingly promisse that all his lands, &c., 
&c ..... 
Amongst other thlnnges his maiesty called flot George a Greene 
and badd him kneele downe, bycause that ffor his greate servyce doon 
vnto the state his purpose was to honour him wth the stile off knight- 
hood: but hee hu(m)bly besought his maiesty that hee might not 
exceede the tit]e off his ffather who boathe lyu'd and dyde an honest 
yornafi that his servyce, hove meane soever did showe better in that 
humble and lowe estate in wch he then lyved t.han iff hee were bur- 
dened vth the greatest titles of honour. 
(Marian and Beatrice, offering a belt and a scarf, kneel belote the 
King, who raises them and lovingly embraces them.) 
Nowe enters Grimes bringinge in Wi]ly the Pinders boy and ffyrst 
desyres iustyce off the Kinge against George ffor stealinge awaye his 
doughter and that iff itt were so that the matter was so fiat past that 
hee rnust needes inioye her itt woold p]ease his maiesty that shee who 
was left him in her place might bee art his ffree disposle. The Kinge 
granted boathe and ffyrst hauinge in his princly goodnes reconsild all 
matters beetwixt ould Grimes and the Pinder: as that hee shoold 
ffreely inioye her wth all his estate after his deathe hee next demanded 
howe hee woold haue the other virgin disposed off, who demanded her 
ffor his wyff, wch the Kinge had no sooner granted but Willy discouer- 
ing himselff itt ruade a general shout and laughter vnto all then 
present: ail wch whylst they were much delighted and the ould 
Justice as much or more displeased. The shoo makers came and 
presented the Kinnge wth a coontry morryce dance in wch nothinge 
vas ornitted that coold bee prepared on the suddeine to give content 
wch was so well ordered that it m(u)ch pleased him who badd them 
aske what in reason they coold demande who only petitioned that the 
lawe off Trayle staff wch they had held only by tradition might nowe 
in reguard (regard) that it had pleas'd his rnaiesty to trayle (or vayle) 
his stafl" vnto them might bee conffirmed vnto theln ffor euer to vch 
the Kinnge graciously and willingly assented flot the ioye off wch and 
the more to applaude the memorable acts of Robin and George the 
merry.., sannge beeffore the kinnge this songe wch ffo]lowethe. 





Bo Lo 

IN Wakefield there liues a iolly Pinder, 
in Wakefield all on a Green, 
in Wakefield ail on a Green; 
There is neither Knight nor Squire, said the Pinder; 
Nor Baron that is so bold, 
l'qor Baron that is so bold; 
Dare make a trespass to the town of Wakefield, 
but his pledge goes to the Pinfold, &c. 
With that they espy'd the iolly Pinder, 
as he sat vnder a thorn, &c. 
Now turn again, turn again, sald the Pinder, 
for a wrong way you haue gone, &c. 
For you haue forsaken the King's High-way. 
and ruade a path ouer the Corn, &c. 
O that were great shame, said iolly Robin, 
we being three, and thou but one, &c. 
The Pinder leapt back then thirty good foot, 
'twas thirty good foot and one, &c. 
He leaned his back fast vnto a thorn, 
and his foot against a stone, &c. 
And there they fought a long Summers day, 
a summers day so long, &c. 
Till that their swords on their broad bucklers, 
were broke fast vnto their hands, &c. 
Hold thy hand, hold thy hand, said Robin Hood, 
and my merry men eueryone, &e. 
For this is one of thë best Pinders, 
that euer I tryed with sword, &c. 
And wilt thou forsake thy Pinders Craft, 
and liue in the Green-wood with me &c. 
At Michaelmas next my cou'riant cornes out, 
when euery man gathers his fee, &c. 

l'Il take my blew blade all in my hand 
and plod to the Green-wood with thee, &c. 
Hast thou either meat or drink ? said Robin Hood, 
for my merry men and me, &c. 
I haue both bread and beef, said the Pinder, 
and good Aie of the best, &c. 
And that is meat good enough, said Robin Hood, 
for such vnbidden guest, &c. 
O wilt thou forsake the Pinder his Craft, 
and go to the Green-Wood with me? &c. 
Thou shalt haue a Liuery twice in the year, 
the one green, the other brown, &c. 
If Michaelmas day was corne and gone, 
and my Master had paid me my fee, 
and my Master had paid me my fee, 
Then would I set as little by him, 
as my Master doth by me, 
as my /Viaster doth by me. 
London, 67o ? 


Another old Ballad. 
'The Iudgment of God shew'd vpon Dr. Iohn Faustus." 
Tune of--'Fortune my Fee.' 


Ho.our,l tl, r EcrIc f 

I mprnted at London by S/mon Stafford, 

for Ctuhbert rby: And are fo be fold at his t'hop 
ta¢¢r¢ th¢ Roïall Exçhan£¢. I99. 

EmWRD, Kig of t?gland. 
JAMES, A'ing of Scotland. 
CUDDV, his son. 
MUCH, the Miller's son. 
JENKIN, George a' Greene's man. 
Wv, George a' Greee's boy. 
Toze,nsmen, Shoemakers, Soldiers, _Messengers, 'c. 
J.rE .' B,,RLEV. 
BEXTRS, da»ghter fo Grbne. 
 dVot in Q--adaîtedfrom Z)yce. 


(ACT I.) 
(ScENE I. Al Bradford. ) 
Enter the Earle of Kendall ; evitlt him lhe Lord Bonfild, 
Sir Gilbert Armestrong, and Iohn. 
Earle of 2éndall. ]Velcome to Bradford, martiall gentlemen, 
L(ord) tonfild, and sir Gilbert Armslrong both, 
And all my troups, euen to my basest groome, 
Courage and welcome! for the day is ours. 
Our cause is good, it is for the lands auayle: 
Then let vs fight, and dye for Englands good. 
Omnes. We will, my Lord. 
Néndall. As I am ffenrie A[omford, Kendals Earle, 
¥ou honour me with this assent of yours; 
And here vpon my sword I make protest 
For to relieue the poore or dye my selle: 
And know, my Lords, that lames, the King of Scots, 
Warres hard vpon the borders of this land: 
Here is his Post.--Say, Iohn Taylour, 
What newes with King Iames ? 
]ohn. Warre, my Lord, (I) tell, and good newes, I trow; 
For King faine vowes to meete you the 26 of this month, 
God willing ; marie, doth he, Sir. 
ACdall. My friends, you see what we haue to winne.-- 
Well, Iohn, commend me to king lames, 
And tell him, I will meete him the 26 of this month, 
And all the test ; And so, farewell. 
Ewit Iohn. 
3onflld, why standst thou as a man in dumps ? 
Quarto  599- odleian. l)evonshire Quarto I599 similar. E..1. Quar,'o 
I 99 similar. S. ]x'ensinglon Quarto  599 similar. Z)yce. 




Courage! for, if I winne, Ile make tbee Duke: 
I Henry Momford will be King my selfe; 25 
And I will make thee Duke of Lancaster, 
And Gilbert Armestrong Lord of Doncaster. 
tonfild. Nothing, my Lord, makes me amazde at all, 
But that our souldiers findes our victuals scant. 
We must make hauocke of those countrey Swaynes ; 30 
For so will the rest tremble and be afraid, 
And humbly send prouision to your campe. 
Gfl. My Lord Bonfild giues good aduice: 
They make a scorne and stand vpon the King; 
So what is brought is sent from them perforce ; 35 
Aske Mannering else. 
Aénd. What sayest thou, Mannering ? 
/1/an. When as I shew'd your high commission, 
They ruade this answere, 
Onely to send prouision for your horses. 40 
ItCd. Well, hye thee to Wakefield, bid the Towne 
To send me all prouision that I want, 
Least I, like martiall Tamberlaine, lay waste 
Their bordering Countries, 
And leauing none aliue that contradicts my Commission. 45 
3an. Let me alone, my Lord, Ile make them 
Vayle their plumes; for whatsoere he be, 
The proudest Knight, Iustice, or other, that gaynsayeth 
Your word, Ile clap him fast, to make the rest to feare. 
RCd. Doe so, Nick: hye thee thither presently, 50 
And let vs heare of thee againe tomorrowe. 
Jkran. Will you not remooue, my Lord ? 
A'end. No, I will lye at Bradford all this night-- 
And all the next.Come, Bonfield, let vs goe, 
And listen out some bonny lasses here. 55 
,aceunl otaries. 

(SCENE II. Af Vakefield.) 
Eter the Iustice, a Townesrnan, George a Greene, and Sir Nicholas. 
Mannering wilh his Co»mission. 
Iustice. M(aster) Mannering, stand aside, whilest we conferre 
what is best to doe.Townesmen of Wakefield, the Earle of 
Kendall here hath sent for victuals ; and in ayding him we 

shewe our selues no lesse than traytours to the King ; there- 
fore let me heare, Townesmen, what is your consents. 60 
Townes. Euen as you please, we are all content. 
Iuslice. Then, M(aster) Mannering, we are resolu'd-- 
Al'an. As howe ? 
Iuslice. Marrie, sir, thus. We will send the Earle of Kendall 
no victuals, because he is a traytour to the King ; and in ayding 65 
him we shewe our selues no lesse. 
&6n Why, men of Vakefield, are you waxen madde, 
That present danger cannot whet your vits, 
Wisely to make prouision of your selues? 
The Earle is thirtie thousand men strong in power, 70 
And what towne soeuer him resist, 
He layes it fiat and leuell with the ground. 
Ye silly men, you seeke your owne decay: 
Therefore send my Lord such prouision as he wants, 
So he will spare your towne, and corne no neerer î5 
Wakefield then he is. 
Iustice. Master Mannering, you haue your answere; 
You may be gone. 
M-an. Well, Woodroffe, for so I gesse is thy naine, Ile make 
thee ourse thy ouerthwart deniall; and all that sit vpon the So 
bench this day shall rue the houre they haue withstood my 
Lord's Commission. 
Iuslice. Doe thy worst, we feare thee not. 
.31"an. Sec you these seales ? before you passe the towne, 
I will haue ail things (that) my Lord doth want, S5 
In spite of you. 
George a Greene. Proud dapper Iacke, vayle bonnet to the bench 
That represents the person of the King ; 
Or, sirra, Ile lay thy head before thy feete. 
Al-an. Why, who art thou ? 90 
George. Why, I am George a Greene, 
True liegeman to my King, 
Who scornes that men of such esteeme as these 
Should brooke the braues of any trayterous squire. 
You of the bench, and you, lny fellowe friends, 95 
Neighbours, we subiects all vnto the King; 
We are English borne, and therefore Edwards friends, 
87 bonnet I To the bench Q 


Voude vnto him euen in out mothers wombe, 
Our mindes to God, out hearts vnto out King; 
Out wealth, our homage, and our carcases, 
13e ail King Edwards. Then, sirra, we haue 
Nothing left for traytours, but out swordes, 
Whetted to bathe them in your bloods, and dye 
'Gainst you, before we send you any victuals. 
Zustice. Well spoken, George a Greene! 
Y'ownes. Pray let George a Greene speake for vs. 
George. Sirra, you get no victuals here, 
Not if a hoofe of beefe would saue your liues. 
_M'an. Fellowe, I stand amazde at thy presumption. 
Why, what art thou that darest gaynsay my Lord, 
Knowing his mighty puissance and his stroke? 
Why, my friend, I corne not barely of my selfe; 
For, see, I haue a large Commission. 
George. Let me see it, sirra. [2àkes the Commission.] Whose 
seales be these ? 
Man. This is the Earle of Kendals seale at armes; 
This Lord Charnel Bonfield's; 
And this Sir Gilbert Armestrongs. 
George. I tell thee, sirra, did good King Edwards sonne seale 
a commission against the King his father thus would I teare 
it in despite of him, 
t-Ze teares lhe Colittissiot. 
Being traytour to my Soueraigne. 
Man. What, hast thou torne my Lords Commission? Thou 
shalt rue it, and so shall ail Wakefield. 
George. What, are you in choler ? I will giue you pilles to coole 
your stomacke. Seest thou these seales ? Now, by my fathers 
Soule, which was a yeoman when he was aliue, eate them, 
or eate my daggers poynt, proud squire. 
3lan. But thou doest but iest, I hope. 
George. Sure that shall you see before we two part. 13o 
3//an. Well, and there be no remedie, so, George: (Swallaw 
one of the SeaIs.) 
One is gone; I pray thee, no more nowe. 

101 Q bas tofull stop 103-4 Whetted to bathe them in your bloods, [ 
And dye against l'ou, before we send you any victaals Q 

George. 0 Sir, if one be good, the others cannot hurt. So, 
Sir; (Mannering swaZZoees te other two seals.) nowe you 
may goe tell the Earle of Kendall, although I haue rent his 
large Commission, yet of curtesie I haue sent all his seales 
backe againe by you. 
AIan. Well, sir, I will doe your arrant. 
"George. Nowe let him tell his Lord that he hath spoke with 4o 
George a Greene, hight pinner of merrie Wakefield towne, 
that hath phisicke for a foole, pilles for a traytour that doeth 
wrong his Soueraigne. Are you content with this that I haue 
donc ? 
tstice. I, content, George ; 145 
For highly hast thou honourd Wakefield toune 
In cutting of proud 5Iannering so short. 
Come, thou shalt be my welcome ghest today ; 
For well thou hast deseru'd reward and fauour. 
E:reunt otaries. 

Enter olde Musgroue and yonff Cuddie his sonne. 
C¢ddie. Nowe, gentle father, list vnto thy sonne, I5o 
And for my mothers loue, 
That earst was blythe and bonny in thine eye, 
Graunt one petition that I shall demaund. 
Olde _hf¢sgroue. What is that, my Cuddie ? 
Cuddie. Father, you knowe the ancient enmitie of late 155 
Betweene the Musgroues and the wily Scottes, 
Whereof they haue othe, 
Not to leaue one aliue that strides a launce. 
O Father you are olde, and, wanyng, age vnto the graue: 
Olde William Musgroue, which whilome was thought 6o 
The brauest horseman in ail Westmerland, 
Is weake, and forst to stay his arme vpon a staffe, 
That earst could wield a launce. 
Then, gentle Father, resigne the hold to me ; 
Giue armes to youth, and honour vnto age. 65 
l[us. Auaunt, false hearted boy! lX, Iy ioynts doe quake 
184-6 So, sir, nowe you may goe tell the Earle of Kendall Q 140 hath [ Q 
141 hight/)y«« : right Q 


Euen with anguish of thy verie words. 
Hath William Musgroue seene an hundred yeres? 
Haue I bene feard and dreaded of the Scottes, 
That when they heard llly naine in any roade, XTO 
They fled away, and posted thence amaine, 
And shall I dye with shame nowe in mine age ? 
No, Cuddie, no: thus resolue I, 
Here haue I liu'd, and here will Musgroue dye. 
Exeunt omnes. 
Enter Lord Bonfild, Sir Gilbert Armestrong, M. Grime, and Bettris 
his dau.hler. 
Bon. Now, gentle Grime, God a mercy for out good chere; 175 
Out rare was royall, and our welcome great: 
And sith so kindly thou hast entertained vs, 
If we returne with happie victorie, 
Ve will deale as friendly with thee in recompence. 
Grime. Your welcome was but dutie, gentle Lord ; xso 
For wherefore haue we giuen vs our wealth, 
But to make out betters welcome when they corne? 
(Aside.) O, this goes hard when traytours must be flattered! 
But lire is sweete, and I cannot withstand it: 
God, (I hope,) will reuenge the quarrell of my King. xs5 
Gilb. What said you, Grime ? 
Grime. I say, sir Gilbert, looking on my daughter, 
I curse the houre that ere I got the girle; 
For, sir, she may haue many wealthy suters, 
And yet she disdaines them all, to haue 19o 
Poore George a Greene vnto her husband. 
t?onflld. On that, good Grime, I ana talking with thy 
Daughter ; 
But she, in quirkes and quiddities of loue, 
Sets me to schoole, she is so ouerwise. x95 
But, gentle girle, if thou wilt forsake 
The pinner and be my loue, I will aduaunce thee high; 
To dignifie those haires of amber hiew, 
Ill grace them with a chaplet ruade of pearle, 
Set with choice rubies, sparkes, and diamonds, .oo 
Planted vpon a veluet hood, to hide that head 
Wherein two saphires burne like sparkling tire: 

This will I doe, faire Bettris, and farre more, 
If thou wilt loue the Lord of Doncaster. 
tettrfs. Heigh ho! my heart is in a higher place, 
Perhaps on the Earle, if that be he. 
See where he cornes, or angrie, or in loue, 
For why his colour looketh discontent. 
Ener the Earle of Kendall (and) Sir Nicholas Mannering. 
2endall. Corne, Nick, followe me. 
t?on3fld. Howe nowe, my Lord! what newes ? 
KendalI. Such newes, Bonfild, as will make thee laugh, 
And fret thy fill, to heare how Nick was vsde. 
Why, the Iustices stand on their termes: 
Nick, as you knowe, is hawtie in his words; 
He layd the lawe vnto the Iustices 
With threatning braues, that one lookt on another, 
Ready to stoope; but that a churle came in, 
One George a Greene, the pinner of the towne, 
And with his dagger drawne layd hands on Nick, 
And by no beggers swore that we were traytours, 220 
Rent out Commission, and vpon a braue 
Made Nick to eate the seales or brooke the stabbe: 
Poore Mannering, afraid, came posting hither straight. 
tettris. Oh louely George, fortune be still thy friend ! 
And as thy thoughts be high, so be thy minde 25 
In all accords, euen to thy hearts desire! 
l?old. What sayes faire Bettris ? 
Grimes. My Lord, she is praying for George a Greene: 
He is the man, and she will none but him. 
l?onflld. But him! why, looke on me, my girle: 230 
Thou knowest, that yesternight I courted thee, 
And swore at my returne to wedde with thee.-- 
Then tell me, loue, shall I haue ail thy faire? 
l?eltris. I care hot for Earle, nor yet for Knight, 
Nor Baron that is so bold; 535 
For George a Greene, the inertie pinner, 
He hath my heart in hold. 
l?oîyfld. Bootlesse, my Lord, are many vaine replies: 
Let vs hye vs to Wakefield, and send her the pinners head. 

S. D. af/er L zo 9 Q 

Iend. It shall be so.--Grime, gramercie, 240 
Shut vp thy daughter, bridle her affects ; 
Let me hot misse her when I make returne ; 
Therefore looke to her, as to thy life, good Grime. 
Grime. I warrant you, my Lord. 
Er. Grime and Bettris. 
Ien. And, Bettris, leaue a base pinner, for to loue an Earle. 245 
Faine would I see this pinner George a Greene. 
It shall be thus; 
Nick Mannering shall leade on the battell, 
And we three will goe to Wakefield in some disguise: 
But howsoeuer, Ile haue his head today. 5o 

SCENE I. Outside the wall of Sir Iohn a Barley's castle.) 
tnler he King of Scots, Lord Humes, wit Souldiers, and Iohnie. 
King. Why, Iohnie, then the Earle of Kendall is blithe, 
And hath braue men that troupe along with him! 
Iohnie. I, marie, my liege, and hath good men 
That corne along with him, 
And vowes to meete you at Scrasblesea, God willing. 255 
King. If good S(aint) Andrewe lend King Iamie leaue, 
I will be with him at the pointed day. 
But, soif !--Whose pretie boy art thou ? 
Enter Iane a Barleys sonne. 
2Ved. Sir, I ara sonne vnto Sir Iohn a 13arley, 
Eldest, and all that ere my mother had ; 260 
Edward my naine. 
./hme. And whither art thou going, pretie Ned? 
.Wed. To seeke some birdes, and kill them, if I can: 
.And now my scholemaster is also gone, 
So haue I libertie to ply my bowe; 265 
For when he cornes, I stirre hOt from my booke. 
lames. Lord Humes, but marke the visage of this child: 
By him I gesse the beautie of his mother ; 
None but Lœeda could breede Helena. 
Tell me, Ned, who is within with thy mother ? 270 
_/Vêd. Nought but her selfe and houshold seruants, sir: 
256 Iame Q 271 Nought 2Vicholson: Not Q 

If you would speake with her, knocke at this gare. 
lames. Iohnie, knocke at that gate. 
tnter Iane a Barley OE,on the walles. 
Iane. O, I am betraide! What multitudes be these ? 
lames. Feare not, faire Iane, for all these men are mine, 275 
And all thy friends, if thou be friend to me: 
I am thy louer, Iames the King of Scottes, 
That off haue sued and wooed with many letters, 
Painting my outward passions with my pen, 
When as my inward soule did bleede for woe. 28c 
Little regard was giuen to my sure; 
But haply thy husbands presence wrought it: 
Therefore, sweete Iane, I fitted me to rime, 
.And, hearing that thy husband was from home, 
.Ara corne to craue what long I haue desirde. 285 
Ned. Nay, soif you, sir! you get no entrance here, 
That seeke to wrong sir Iohn a Barley so, 
.And offer such dishonour to my mother. 
lames. Why, what dishonour, Ned ? 
Ned. Though young, 290 
Yet often haue I heard my father say, 
No greater wrong than to be ruade cuckold. 
Were I of age, or were my bodie strong, 
Were he ten Kings, I would shoote him to the heart 
That should attempt to giue sir Iohn the home.-- 295 
Mother, let him hot corne in: 
I will goe lie at Iockie Millers house. 
lames. Stay him. 
lane. I, well said, Ned, thou hast giuen the King. 
His answere ; 
For were the ghost of Coesar on the earth, 
Wrapped in the wonted glorie of his honour, 
He should not make me wrong my husband so. 
But good King Iames is pleasant, as I gesse, 
.And meanes to trie what humour I am in ; 3o5 
Else would he neuer haue brought an hoste of men, 
To haue them witnes of his Scottish lust. 
lames. Iane, in faith, Iane.-- 
290- Though young, yet often haue I heard ] My father say, ] No 
greater &c. Q 301 Cesar Q 

[AcT II 

.[ane. Neuer reply, for ][ protest by the highest 
Holy God, 3,o 
That doorneth iust reuenge for things arnisse, 
King lames, of all rnen, shall not haue rny loue. 
.lames. Then list to me; Saint Andrewe be rny boote, 
But ][le rase thy castle to the uerie ground, 
Vnlesse thou open the gate, and let rne in. 315 
Iane. I feare thee hot, King Iarnie: doe thy worst. 
This castle is too strong for thee to scale 
Besides, tornorrowe will sir Iohn corne home. 
fa»tes. Vell, Iane, since thou disdainst King Iame's loue, 
Ile drawe thee on with sharpe and deepe extremes; 
For, by rny fathers soule, this brat of thine 
Shall perish here before thine eyes, 
Vnlesse thou open the gate, and let me in. 
.[ane. 0 deepe extrernes! rny heart begins to breake: 
My little Ned lookes pale for feare.-- 
Cheare thee, rny boy, ][ will doe rnuch for thee. 
_/Vea'. But hot so rnuch as to dishonour me. 
2fane. And if thou dyest, ][ cannot liue, sweete Ned. 
_Nêd. Then dye with honour, rnother, dying chaste. 
.l'ane. I ara armed: 330 
My husbands loue, his honour, and his lame, 
Ioynes victorie by vertue. Nowe, King Iarnes, 
If rnothers teares cannot alay thine ire, 
Then butcher hirn, for I will neuer yeeld: 
The sonne shall dye before I wrong the father. 
fa»tes. Why, then, he dyes. 
tllarum wil/dt. Enler a Messenger. 
.fesseltffer. My Lord, Musgroue is at hand. 
lames. Who, Musgroue ? The deuill he is! Corne, 
My horse ! 

(ScENn II.) 
Enter olde Musgroue witl King Iames îbrisoner. 
A/«s. Nowe, King Iarnes, thou art rny prisoner. 
la»tes. Not thine, but fortunes prisoner. 

34 ° 

82-3 Nowe, King Iame», if mothers teares &e. ose line Q 

Sc. III] 



Enter Cuddie. 
Cudd[e. Father, the field is ours: their colours we 
Haue seyzed, 
And Humes is slayne ; I slewe him hand to hand. 
Af us. God and Saint George! 345 
Cuddie. 0 father, I ana sore athirst! 
Zane. Corne in, young Cuddie, corne and drinke thy fill: 
Bring in King Iame with you as a ghest ; 
For all this broi|e was cause he could not enter. 
xeunl otaries. 
Enter George a Greene alerte. 
Creorge. The sweete content of men that liue in loue 350 
Breedes fretting humours in a restlesse minde ; 
And fansie, being checkt by fortunes spire, 
Growes too impatient in ber sweete desires ; 
Sweete to those men whome loue leades on to blisse, 
But sovre to me whose happe is still amisse. 3S5 
tnter /he Clowne. 
renkin. Marie, amen, sir. 
George. Sir, what doe you crye, Amen at? 
renkin. Why, did hOt you talke of loue? 
George. Howe doe you knowe that ? 
renkin. Well, though I say it that should not say it, there are 36o 
fewe fellowes in our parish so netled with loue, as I haue bene 
of late. 
Gent. Sirra, I thought no lesse, when the other morning you 
rose so earely to goe to your wenches. Sir, I had thought 
you had gone about my honest busines. 365 
renkin. Trow, you haue hit it ; for, toaster, be it knowne to 
you, there is some good will betwixt Madge the Sousewife, 
and I ; marie, she hath another louer. 
George. Canst thou brooke any riuals in thy loue ? 
Ien. A rider! no, he is a sow-gelder and goes afoote. But 37o 
Madge pointed to meete me in your wheate close. 
George. XVell, did she meete you there? 
'en. Neuer make question of that. And first I saluted her 
with a greene gowne, and after fell as hard a wooing as if 
the Priest had bin at our backs to haue married vs. 375 


Georg. What, did she grant ? 
le**. Did she graunt! Neuer rnake question of that. And she 
gaue me a shirt coler wrought ouer with no counterfet stuffe. 
Georg. What, was it gold ? 
aren. Nay, twas better than gold. 3so 
Georg. What was it ? 
arcn. Right Couentrie blew. We had no sooner corne there-- 
but wot you who carne by ? 
Georg. No : who ? 
aren. Clirn the sow-gelder. 
Georg. Carne he by ? 
1en. He spide Madge and I sit together: he leapt frorn his 
horse, laid his hand on his dagger, and began to sweare. 
Now I seeing he had a dagger, and I nothing but tllis twig 
in rny hand, I gaue hirn faire words and said nothing. He 390 
cornes to me, and takes me by the bosorne. 'You hoorson 
slaue,' said he, ' hold rny horse, and looke he take no colde 
in his feete.' 'No, marie, shall he, sir,' quoth I; ' Ile lay rny 
cloake vnderneath him.' I tooke rny cloake, spread it ail 
along, and his horse on the rnidst of it. 
Georg. Thou clowne, didst thou set his horse vpon thy cloake ? 
len. I, but rnarke how I serued hirn. Madge & he was no 
sooner gone downe into the ditch, but I plucked out rny 
knife, cut route hoales in rny cloake, and ruade his horse 
stand on the bare ground. 400 
Georg. Twas well done. Now, sir, go and suruay rny fields: if 
you finde any cattell in the corne, to pound with thern. 
Jên. And if I finde any in the pound, I shall turne thern out. 
l'il Ienkin. 
2ïnter lhe Eafle of Kendal, Lord Bonfield, Sir Gilbert, all dfsuised, 
with a traine of rnen. 
led. Now we haue put the horses in the corne, let vs stand 
in some corner for to heare what brauing tearmes the pinner 
will breathe when he spies our horses in the corne. 
2ïnler Ienkin blowizg of his borne. 
Ien. 0 toaster, where are you ? we haue a prise. 
Georg. A prise! what is it ? 
ren. Three goodly horses in our wheate close. 

882 We] Who Q S.D. lenkin] la¢ke Q 

George. Three horses in our wheat close! whose be they? 
.[ettkbt. Marie, thats a riddle to me ; but they are there ; veluet 
horses, and I neuer sawe such horses before. As my dutie 
was, I put off my cappe, and said as followeth : My masters, 
what doe you make in our close ? One of them, hearing me 
aske what he made there, held vp his head and neighed, 
and after his maner laught as heartily as if a mare had bene 
tyed to his girdle. My masters, said I, it is no laughing matter ; 
for, if my toaster take you here, you goe as round as a top 
to the pound. Another vntoward Jade, hearing me threaten 
him to the pound and to tell you of them, cast vp both his 42o 
heeles, and let such a monstrous great fart, that was as much 
as in his language to say, A fart for the pound and a fart 
for George a Greene ! Nowe I, hearing this, put on my cap, 
blewe my horne, called them all iades, and came to tell you. 
George. Nowe, sir, goe and driue me those three horses to the 425 
.[enkin. Doe you heare ? I were best to take a constable with 
George. Why so ? 
(Ienkin.) XVhy, they, being gentlemens horses, may stand on 43o 
their reputation, and will not obey me. 
George. Goe, doe as I bid you, sir. 
.[enkin. Well, I may goe. 
2"he Earle of Kendall, le Lord Bonfild, and sir Gilbert Armestrong, 
7neele lheTn. 
Kend. Whither away, sir ? 
Ien/in. Whither away! I ara going to put the horses in the 435 
l'end. Sirra, those three horses belong to vs, and we put them 
in, and they must tarrie there and eate their fill. 
Ienkin. Stay, I will goe tell my master.--Heare you, master? 
we haue another prise : those three horses be in your wheate ,4o 
close still, and here be three geldings more. 
George. What be these? 
Ienkin. These are the masters of the horses. 
Geore. Nowe, gentlemen, I know not your degrees, but more 
you cannot be, vnlesse you be Kings. Why wrong you vs of 445 
Wakefield with your horses ? I am the pinner, and before you 
passe, you shall make good the trespasse they haue done. 

2çénd. Peace, saucie mate, prate not to vs: I tell thee, pinner, 
we are gentlemen ? 
George. Why, sir, so may I, sir, although I giue no armes. 450 
2çCd. Thou! howe art thou a gentleman ? 
Ienkin. _And such îs my master, and he may giue as good 
armes as euer your great grandfather could giue. 
2çCd. Pray thee, let me heare howe. 
Ienkin. Marie, my master may giue for his armes the picture 455 
of Aprill in a greene ierkin, with a rooke on one fist and an 
home on the other : but my toaster giues his armes the wrong 
way, for he giues the home on his fist ; and your grandfather, 
because he would hot lose his armes, weares the horne on 
his owne head. 460 
2ç'e,td. Well, pinner, sith out horses be in, in spite of thee 
they now shall feede their fill, and eate vntill our leasures 
serue to goe. 
GeorKe. Now, by my fathers soule, were good King Edwards 
horses in the corne, they shall amend the scath, or kisse the 465 
pound; much more yours, sir, whatsoere you be. 
2çCd. Why, man, thou knowest not vs : we do belong to Henry 
Momford, Earle of Kendal; men that, belote a month be 
full expirde, will be King Edwards betters in the land. 
Geor g. King Edwards better(s)! Rebell, thou liest. 470 
George strikes him. 
2ald. Villaine, what hast thou done? thou hast stroke an 
Gear. Why, what care I ? A poore man that is true, is better 
then an Eafle, if he be false. Traitors reape no better 
fauours at my hands. 475 
X'end. I, so me thinks; but thou shall deare aby this blow.-- 
Now or neuer lay hold on the pinner! 
Enter all the am3ush. 
Georg Stay, my Lords, let vs parlie on these broiles: not 
Hercules against two, the prouerbe is, nor I against so great 
a multitude.--(Aside) Had not your troupes corne marching 48o 
as they did, I would haue stopt your passage vnto London- 
but now Ile file to secret policie. 
Iend. What doest thou murmure, George ? 

4îO better Q 

George. Marie, this, my Lord; I muse, if thou be Henrie 
Momford, Kendals Earle, that thou wilt doe poore G(eorge) a 4s5 
Greene this wrong, euer to match me with a troupe of men. 
Iénd. Why doest thou strike me, then? 
Geor. Why, my Lord, measure me but by your selfe : had you 
a man had seru'd you long, and heard your foc misuse you 
behinde your backe, and would not draw his sword in your 490 
defence, you would cashere him. Much more, King Edward 
is my King: and before Ile heare him so wrong'd, Ile die 
within this place, and maintaine good whatsoeuer I haue said. 
And, if I speake not reason in this case, what I haue said 
Ile maintaine in this place. 495 
/3on. A pardon, my Lord, for this pinner ; for, trust me, he 
speaketh like a man of worth. 
Iénd. Well, George, wilt thou leaue Wakefielde and wend with 
me, Ile freely put vp all and pardon thee. 
Georg. I, my Lord, considering me one thing, you will leaue 500 
these armes and follow your good King. 
/,_ée. Why, George, I fise not against King Edward, but for 
the poore that is opprest by wrong; and, if King Edward 
will redresse the same, I will not offer him disparagement, but 
othenvise; and so let this suffise. Thou hear'st the reason 
why I fise in armes: nowe, wilt thou leaue Wakefield and 
wend with me, Ile make thee captaine of a hardie band, and, 
when I haue my will, dubbe thee a knight. 
George. Why, my Lord, haue you any hope to winne ? 
lénd. Why, there is a prophecie doeth say, that King Iames 
and I shall meete at London, and make the King vaile 
bonnet to ,es both. 
Geo. If this were truc, my Lord, this were a mighty reason. 
./C. Why, it is a miraculous prophecie, and cannot faile. 
George. Well, my Lord, you haue almost turned me.--Ienkin, 
corne hither. 
Zenkin. Sir ? 
George. Goe your waies home, sir, and driue me those three 
horses home vnto my house, and powre them downe a 
bushell of good oates. 520 
Zenkn. Well, I will.Must I giue these scuruie horses oates ? 
Exil Ienkin. 
8 George] G. l 00 considering] conceding 

Geor. Will it please you to commaund your traine aside? 
Kend. Stand aside. 
Exit the trayne. 
George. Nowe list to me: here in a wood, not farre from 
hence, there dwels an old man in a caue alone, that can 
foretell what fortunes shall befall you, for he is greatly 
skilfull in magike arte. Go you three to him early in the 
morning, and question him: if he sales good, why, then, my 
Lord, I ara the formost man, we will march vp with your 
campe to London. 530 
içénd. George, thou honourest me in this. But where shall we 
finde him out? 
George. My man shall conduct you to the place; but, good 
my Lords, tell me true what the wise man saith. 
fiénd. That will I, as I ana Earle of Kendal. 536 
George. Why, then, to honour G(eorge) a Greene the more, voueh- 
safe a peece of beefe at my poore house; you shall haue 
wafer cakes your fill, a peece of beefe hung vp since 
Martilmas: if that like you hOt, take what you bring, for me. 
Aénd. Gramercies, George. 540 
Exeunt omnes. 

(ACT III. SCENE I. Belote Grime's Ifouse.) 
Enter George a Greenes boy Wily, disguised like a woman, to M. Grimes. 
141ily. O, what is loue! it is some mightie power, 
Else could it neuer eonquer G(eorge) a Greene. 
Here dwels a ehurle that keepes away his loue ; 
I know the worst, and if I be espied, 
Tis but a beating; and if I by this meanes 
Can get faire ]3ettris forth ber fathers dore, 
It is enough. 
Venus, for me, of all the Gods alone, 
Be aiding to my wily enterprise! 
He knocks at the doore. 
tïnter Grime. 
Gri. How now! who knoeks there? what would you haue? 
From whenee came you ? where doe you dwell ? 
IVily. I am, forsooth, a semsters maide hard by, 
529 we] who Dk,ce 542 George] G. Q 547-8 .DæÆe: It is notgh, 
Venu» for me, and all goes alone Q Sec note 


sc. I1 


That hath brought worke home to your daughter. 
Grime. Nay, are you not some craftie queane 
That cornes from George a Greene, that rascall, 
With some letters to my daughter ? 
I will haue you searcht. 
lloeily. Alas, sir, it is Hebrue vnto me, 
To tell me of George a Greene, or any other! 
8earch me, good sir, 
And if you finde a letter about me, 
Let me haue the punishment that is due. 
Grime. IVhy are you mufled? I like you the worse 
For that. 
[Yily. I am not, sir, asham'd to shew my face, 
Yet loth I am my cheekes should take the aire: 
Not that I am charie of my beauties hue, 
But that I ara troubled with the tooth-ach sore. 


[ Vnmufltes.] 



Grime. A pretie wench of smiling countenance ! 
Olde men can like, although they cannot loue ; 57o 
I, and loue, though not so briefe as yong men can.-- 
Well, goe in, my wench, and speake with my daughter. 
Exit Wily. 
I wonder much at the Earle of Kendall, 
Being a mightie man, as still he is, 
Yet for to be a traitor to his King, 57S 
Is more then God or man will well allow. 
But what a foole am I to talke of him! 
My minde is more heere of the pretie lasse. 
Had she brought some fortie pounds to towne, 
I could be content to make her my wife: 580 
Yet I haue heard it in a prouerbe said, 
He that is olde and marries with a lasse, 
Lies but at home, and prooues himselfe an asse. 
Enter Bettris in Wilies a##arell lo Grime. 
How now, my wench! how ist? what, not a word?-- 
Alas, poore soule, the tooth-ach plagues her sore.-- 585 
Well, my wench, here is an Angel for to buy three pinnes, 
And I pray thee vse mine house ; 
The offner, the more welcome: farewell. 
S. D. Exit Wily] Exit Q 


Bettris. 0 blessed loue, and blessed fortune both! 
But, Bettris, stafld hOt here to talke of loue, 
But hye thee straight vnto thy George a Greene : 
Neuer went Roe-bucke swifter on the downes 
Then I will trip it till I see my George. 

9 o 

{Sc.N II.) 
Enler lhe Eade of Kendall, L. Bonfield, Sir Gilbert, and Ienkin the 
Aend. Corne away, Ienkin. 
Ien. Come, here is his house. Where be you, ho ? 595 
Georg. Who knocks there? 
Aénd. Heere are two or three poore men, father, 
Would speake with you. 
Georg. Pray, giue your man leaue to leade me forth. 
ACd. Goe, Ienkin, fetch him forth. 600 
Ien. Corne, olde man. 
tnler George a Greene disguised. 
Kend. Father, heere is three poore men corne to question 
Thee a word in secrete that concernes their liues. 
George. Say on, my sonnes. 
A'end. Father, I am sure you heare the newes 605 
How that the Earle of Kendal wars against the King. 
Now, father, we three are gentlemen by birth, 
But yonger brethren that want reuenues, 
And for the hope we haue to be preferd, 
If that we knew that we shall winne, 61o 
We will march with him: 
If not, we will hot match a foote to London more. 
Therefore, good father, tell vs what shall happen, 
Whether the King or the Earle of Kendal shall win. 
George. The King, my sonne. 65 
A'end. Art thou sure of that ? 
George. I, as sure as thou art Henry Momford, 
The one Lord Bonfield, the other sir Gilbert. 
end. Why this is wondrous, being blinde of sight, 
His deepe perseuerance should be such to know vs. 620 
Gilb. Magike is mightie and foretelleth great matters. 
618 Lord] L. Q 


In deede, Father, here is the Earle come to see thee, 
And therefore, good father, fable not with him. 
George. Welcome is the Earle to my poore cell, 
And so are you, my Lords ; but let me counsell you 625 
To leaue these warres against your king, 
And liue in quiet. 
Iténd. Father, we corne not for aduice in warre, 
But to know whether we shall win or leese. 
George. Lose, gentle Lords, but not by good King Edward ; 630 
A baser man shall giue you all the foile. 
Iend. I, marie, father, what man is that ? 
George. Poore George a Greene, the pinner. 
]tCd. What shall he ? 
George. Pull all your plumes, and sore dishonour you. 635 
Iend. He ! as how ? 
Georg. Nay, the end tries all; but so it will fall out. 
Iénd. But so it shall not, by my honor Christ. 
Ile raise my campe, and tire Wakefield to,ne, 
And take that seruile pinner George a Greene, 640 
And butcher him belote king Edwards face. 
George. Good my Lord, be not offended, 
For I speake no more then arte reueales to me: 
And for greater proofe, 
Giue your man leaue to fetch me (out) my staffe. 645 
Zçend. Ienkin, fetch him his walking staffe. 
Zen. Here is your walking staffe. 
George. Ile proue it good vpon your carcases ; 
A wiser wisard neuer met you yet, 
Nor one that better could foredoome your fall. 650 
Now I haue singled you here alone, 
I tare not (I) though you be three to one. 
Zçend. Villaine, hast thou betraid vs ? 
Georg. Momford, thou liest, neuer was I traitor yet ; 
Onely deuis'd this guile to draw you on 655 
For to be combatants. 
Now conquere me, and then match on to London." 
It shall goe hard, but I will holde you taske. 
Gilb. Corne, my Lord, cheerely, Ile kill him hand to hand. 

645 out su:fllied by Nicholson : Q omits 652 I care not I though] I care 
not though Q 658 It] But Q but Dyce: and Q 


Aénd. A thousand pound to him that strikes that stroke! 660 
Georg. Then giue it me, for I will haue the first. 
ttere theyyfght ; George kils sir Gilbert, and takes the otker two 
topld. Stay, George, we doe appeale. 
George. To whom ? 
ton. Why, to the King: 
For rather had we bide what he appoynts, 665 
Then here be murthered by a seruile groome. 
]xénd. What wilt thou doe with vs ? 
Georg. Euen as Lord Bonfild wisht, 
You shall vnto the King: 
And, for that purpose, see where the Iustice is placed. 670 
Enter Iustice. 
lust. Now, my Lord of Kendal, where be al your threats ? 
Euen as the cause, so is the combat fallen, 
Else one could neuer haue conquerd three. 
Aénd. I pray thee, Woodroffe, doe not twit me; 
If I haue faulted, I must make amends. 675 
Georg. Master Woodroffe, here is hot a place for many 
I beseech ye, sir, discharge all his souldiers, 
That euery man may goe home vnto his owne house. 
Iustice. It shall bee so. What wilt thou doe, George ? 680 
Georg. Master Woodroffe, looke to your charge; 
Leaue me to myselfe. 
Iust. Corne, my Lords. 
Exil all but George. 
Georg. Here sit thou, George, wearing a willow wreath, 
As one despairing of thy beautious loue: 685 
Fie, George ! no more ; 
Pine hOt away for that which cannot be. 
I cannot ioy in any earthly blisse, 
So long as I doe want my Bettris. 
Enter lenkin. 
Ien. Who sec a toaster of mine ? 69o 
George. How now, sirrha! whither away? 

ô68 wisht Wicholson : wist Q 



20 3 

S. D.ffowne Dyce : Kround O_ 

Exeunt otaries. 
720 athe, s in next line Q 

Ien. Whither away ? why, who doe you take me to bec? 
Georg. Why Ienkin, my man. 
Ien. I was so once in deede, but now the case is altered. 
George. I pray thee, as how ? 695 
Ien. Were not you a fortune teller to day ? 
George. Well, what of that ? 
Ien. So sure ara I become a iugler. 
What will you say if I iuggle your sweete heart ? 
George. Peace, prating losell! her ielous father 700 
Doth wait ouer her 'ith such suspitious eyes, 
That, if a man but dally by her feete, 
He thinks it straight a witch to charme his daughter. 
Ien. Well, what will you giue me, if I bring her hither ? 
George. A sute of greene, and twentie crownes besides. 705 
Ien. Well, by your leaue, giue me roome. 
You must giue me something, that you haue lately worne. 
George. Here is a gowne, will that serue you ? 
Zo«kin. I, this will serue me. Keepe out of my circle, 
Least you be torne in pieces by shee deuils : 71o 
Mistres Bettris, once, twice, thrice! 
Pie throwes the gowne in, and ame cornes out. 
Oh, is this no cunning ? 
George. Is this my loue, or is it but her shadow ? 
fenkin. I, this is the shadow, but heere is the substance. 
George. Tell mee, sweete loue, what good fortune 
Brought thee hither? 
For one it was that fauoured Ge6rge a Greene. 
tettris. Both loue and fortune brought me to my George, 
In whose sweete light is all my hearts content. 
Geor. Tell mee, sweete loue, how camst thou from thy fathers ? 
Bettris. A willing minde hath many slips in loue: 
It was not I, but Wily, thy sweete boy. 
Geor. And where is Wily now ? 
Bettris. In my appareil, in my chamber still. 
Geor. Ienkin, corne hither: goe to Bradford, 
And listen out your fellow Wily-- 
Corne, Bettris, let vs in, 
And in my cottage we will sit and talke. 


(ACT IV. ScEE I.) 
Enter King Edward, the King of Scots, Lord Warwicke, yong 
Cuddy, and their traine. 
Edward. Brother of Scotland, I doe hold it hard, 
Seeing a league of truce was late confirmde 730 
Twixt you and me, without displeasure offered 
You should make such inuasion in my land. 
The vowes of kings should be as oracles, 
Not blemisht with the staine of any breach ; 
Chiefly where fealtie and homage willeth it. 735 
tmes. Brother of England, tub not the sore afresh ; 
My conscience grieues me for my deepe misdeede. 
I haue the worst; of thirtie thousand men, 
There scapt not full fiue thousand from the field. 
Edward. (;ramercie, Musgroue, else it had gone hard: 74 ° 
Cuddie, Ile quite thee well ere we two part. 
Yames. But had not his olde Father, William Musgroue, 
Plaid twice the man, I had not now bene here. 
A stronger man I seldome felt before; 
But one of more resolute valiance, 745 
Treads not, I thinke, vpon the English ground. 
dward. I wot wel, Musgroue shall hot lose his hier. 
Cuddie. And it please your grace, my father was 
Fiue score and three at Midsommer last past: 
Yet had King Iamie bene as good as George a Greene, 750 
Yet Billy Musgroue would haue fought with him. 
.Edward. As George a Greene! I pray thee, Cuddie, 
Let me question thee. 
Much haue I heard, since I came to my crowne, 
Many in manner of a prouerbe say, 755 
Were he as good as G(eorge) a Green, I would strike him sure : 
I pray thee tell me, Cuddie, canst thou informe me, 
What is that George a Greene ? 
Cuddie. Know, my Lord, I neuer saw the man, 
But mickle talke is of him in the Country: 760 
They say he is the Pinner of Wakefield towne: 
But for his other qualities, I let alone. 
l/Var. May it please your grace, I know the man too wel. 
2Edward. Too weil! why so, Warwicke ? 


tf'af. For once he swingde me till my bones did ake. 765 
ldaard. Why, dares he strike an Earle ? 
IVarw. An Earle, my Lord! nay, he wil strike a King, 
Be it hot King Edward. 
For stature he is framde, 
Like to the picture of stoute Hercules, 770 
And for his carriage passeth Robin Hood. 
The boldest Earle or Baron of your land, 
That offereth scath vnto the towne of Wakefield, 
George will arrest his pledge vnto the pound; 
And who so resisteth beares away the blowes, 77s 
For he himselfe is good inough for three. 
dward. Why, this is wondrous: my L(ord) of Warwicke, 
Sore do I long to see this George a Greene. 
But leauing him, what shall we do, my Lord, 
For to subdue the rebels in the North? 780 
They are now marching vp to Doncaster. 
Enter one with the Earle of Kendal risoner. 
Soif! who haue we there? 
Cuddie. Here is a traitour, the Earle of Kendal. 
Edward. Aspiring traitour ! how darst thou once 
Cast thine eyes vpon thy Soveraigne 785 
That honour'd thee with kindenes and «ith fauour ? 
But I will make thee buy this treason deare. 
Iténd. Good my Lord,-- 
dward. Reply hot, traitor.-- 
Tell me, Cuddy, whose deede of honour 79 ° 
Wonne the victorie against this rebell ? 
Cuddy. George a Greene, the Pinner of Wakefield. 
ldward. George a Greene! now shall I heare newes 
Certaine, what this Pinner is. 
Discourse it briefly, Cuddy, how it befell. 
Cud. Kendall and Bonfild, with sir Gilbert Armstrong, 
Came to Wakefield Towne disguisd, 
And there spoke ill of your grace ; 
Which George but hearing, feld them at his feete, 
And, had hOt rescue corne into the place, 8oo 
George had slaine them in his close of wheate. 
'dward. But, Cuddy, canst thou hOt tell 
777 Lord] L. Q 801 them] him Q 


Where I might giue and grant some thing 
That might please, & highly gratifie the pinners thoughts ? 
Cuddie. This at their parting George did say to me: so5 
' If the King vouchsafe of this my seruice, 
Then, gentle Cuddie, kneele vpon thy knee, 
And humbly craue a boone of him for me.' 
Edward. Cuddie, what is it? 
Cuddie. It is his will your grace would pardon them, o 
And let them liue, although they haue offended. 
Edze,ard. I think the man striueth to be glorious. 
Well, George hath crau'd it, and it shall be graunted, 
Which none but he in England should haue gotten.-- 
Liue, Kendall, but as prisoner, 
So shalt thou end thy dayes within the tower. 
IxéM. Gracious is Edward to offending subiects. 
Iames. My Lord of Kend, you are welcome to the court. 
ldward. Nay, but ill corne as it fals out now; 
I, iii corne in deede, were it not for George a Greene 
But, gentle King, for so you would auerre, 
And Edwards betters, I salute you both, 
And here I vowe by good Saint George, 
You wil gaine but little when your summes are counted. 
I sore-doe long to see this George a Greene: 
And for because I neuer saw the North, 
I will forthwith goe see it ; 
And for that to none I will be knowen, 
We will disguise out selues and steale downe secretly, 
Thou and I, King Iames, Cuddie, and two or three, 830 
And make a inertie iourney for a moneth.-- 
Away, then, conduct him to the tower.-- 
Corne on, King Iames, my heart must needes be merrie, 
If fortune make such hauocke of out foes. 

(SCErE II.) 
EnlerRobin Hood, Mayd Marian, Scarlet, and Much the Millers sonne. 
Robin. Why is not louely Marian blithe of cheere ? 
What ayles my Lemman, that she gins to lowre ? 
Say, good Marian, why art thou so sad ? 
JlIarian. Nothing, my Robin, grieues me to the heart-- 


But whensoeuer I doe walke abroad, 
I heare no songs but all of George a Greene ; 84o 
Bettris, his faire Lemman, passeth me: 
And this, my Robin, gaules rny very soule. 
Robin. Content (thee) : what wreakes it vs, though George a 
Greene be stoute, 
So long as he doth proffer vs no scath ? 845 
Enuie doth seldome hurt but to it selfe ; 
And therefore, Marian, smile vpon thy Robin. 
JIarian. Neuer will Marian smile vpon her Robin, 
Nor lie with him vnder the green wood shade, 
Till that thou go to Wakefield on a greene, 
And beate the Pinner for the loue of me. 
Robin. Content thee, Marian, I will ease thy griefe, 
My merrie men and I will thither stray ; 
And heere I vow that, for the loue of thee, 
I will beate George a Greene, or he shall beate me. s55 
Smrlet. As I am Scarlet, next to little Iohn, 
One of the boldest yeomen of the crew, 
So will I wend with Robin all along, 
And try this Pinner what he dares do. 
_u«h. As I am Much, the Millers sonne, S6o 
That left my Mill to go with thee, 
And nill repent that I haue done, 
This pleasant life contenteth me ; 
In ought I may, to doe thee good, 
Ile liue and die with Robin Hood. s65 
Jfarian. And, Robin, Marian she will goe with thee, 
To see faire Bettris how bright she is of blee. 
Robin. Marian, thou shalt goe with thy Robin.-- 
Bend vp your bowes, and see your strings be tight, 
The arrowes keene, and euery thing be ready, 870 
And each of you a good bat on his necke, 
Able to lay a good man on the ground. 
Scarlet. I will haue Frier Tuckes. 
2F[uch I will haue little Iohns. 
Robin. I will haue one made of an ashen planke, 875 
Able to beare a bout or two.-- 
Then come on, Marian, let vs goe ; 
84 thee Dyce (f. 852 ) 875 planke] pkmke Q 


For before the Sunne doth shew the morning day, 
I wil be at Wakefield to see this Pinner, George a Greene. 

(SCENE III. At .Bradford.) 
Ettter a Shoomaker siltinff vlott the stage al worke : Ienkin lo him. 
2én. My masters, he that hath neither meate nor money, 880 
And hath lost his credite with the Alewife.-- 
For anything I know, may goe supperlesse to bed.-- 
But, soft! who is heere ? here is a Shoomaker ; 
He knowes where is the best Ale.-- 
Shoomaker, I pray thee tell me, 885 
Where is the best Aie in the towne ? 
S]zooma,er. Afore, afore, follow thy nose; 
At the signe of the eggeshell. 
Ienlcin. Corne, Shoomaker, if thou wilt, 
And take thy part of a pot. 890 
S]zooma,er. Sirra, downe with your staffe, 
Downe with your staffe. 
2én,in. Why, how now! is the fellow mad ? 
I pray thee tell me, why should I hold downe my staffe ? 
Shooma. You wil downe with him, will you not, sir ? 895 
.[en,in. Why, tell me wherefore ? 
S/zoo. My friend, this is the towne of merry Bradford, 
And here is a custome held, 
That none shall passe with his staffe on his shoulders 
But he must haue a bout with me; 900 
And so shall you, sir. 
2énkin. And so will I hot, sir. 
Shoo. That wil I try.--Barking dogs bite hot the sorest. 
.genkin. I would to God I were once well rid of him. 
Shooma. Now, what, will you downe with your staffe ? 905 
Ienkin. Why, you are hot in earnest, are you ? 
Shooma. If I ara hot, take that. 
Ienkin. You whoorsen cowardly scabbe, 
It is but the part of a clapperdudgeon 
To strike a man in the streete. 9zo 
But darest thou walke to the townes end with me? 
Shoomaker. I, that I date do: but stay till I lay in my 

897 Bradford 2Vicholson: Wakefield Q 

Sc. IV] 



Tooles, and I will goe with thee to the townes end 
Ienkin. I would I knew how to be rid of this fellow. 915 
Shoom. Corne, sir, wil you go to the townes end now, sir? 
Ienkin. I, sir, corne.-- 
<Scene clanges go t/le town's end.) 
Now we are at the townes end, what say you now? 
S]womaker. Marry, corne, let vs euen haue a bout. 
Iezkin. Ha, stay a little; hold thy hands, I pray. thee. 920 
S]zoom. Why whats the matter? 
]enim Faith, I ara vnder-pinner of a towne, 
And there is an order, which if I doe not keepe, 
I shall be turned out of mine office. 
Soomaker. What is that, sir? 
1enkin. Whensoeuer I goe to fight with any bodie, 
I vse to flourish lny staffe thrise about my head 
Before I strike, and then shew no fauour. 
Shoomaker. Vell, sir, and till then I will not strike thee. 
Zenkin. Wel, sir, here is once, twice :--here is my hand, 93o 
I will neuer doe it the third time. 
Shoomaker. Why, then, I see we shall not fight. 
Zenkbz. Faith, no: corne, I will giue thee two pots 
Of the best Ale, and be friends. 
Shoomak. Faith, I see it is as hard to get water out of a flint, 935 
As to get him to haue a bout with me: 
Therefore I will enter into him for some good cheere. 
My friend, I see thou art a faint hearted fellow, 
Thou hast no stomacke to fight, 
Therefore let vs go to the Alehouse and drinke. 94 ° 
lenkin. Well, content: goe thy wayes, and say thy prayers, 
Thou scapst my hands today. 

<SCENE IV. At lFakefield.) 
tïnter George a Greene and Bettris. 
George. Tell me, sweet loue, how is thy minde content ? 
What, canst thou brooke to liue with George a Greene ? 
2?el¢ris. Oh, George, how little pleasing are these words! 
Came I from Bradford for the loue of thee 



922 a Q : the D3'ce 


And left my father for so sweet a friend ? 
Here will I liue vntill my lire doe end. 
lnter Robin Hood, and Marian, and hfs traine. 
George. Happy ara I to haue so sweet a loue.- 
But what are these corne trasing here along? 950 
l?ettris. Three men corne striking through the corne, 
My loue. 
George. 13acke againe, you foolish trauellers, 
For you are wrong, and may hOt wend this way. 
obin drdood. That were great shame. 
Now, by my soule, proud sir, 
XVe be three tall yeomen, and thou art but one.-- 
Corne, we will forward in despite of him. 
George. Leape the ditch, or I will make you skip. 
Vhat, cannot the hie way serue your turne, 96o 
But you must make a path ouer the corne ? 
lo3in. Why, art thou mad ? dar'st thou incounter three? 
We are no babes, man, looke vpon out limmes. 
Geo. Sirra, the biggest liras haue hOt the stoutest hearts. 
Were ye as good as Robin Hood and his three mery men, 96. 
Ile driue you backe the saine way that ye came. 
]e ye men, ye scorne to incounter me all at once ; 
But be ye cowards, set vpon me all three, 
And try the Pinner what he dates performe. 
S¢arlet. Were thou as high in deedes 9îo 
As thou art haughtie in wordes, 
Thou well mightest be a champion for the King: 
But emptie vessels haue the loudest sounds, 
And cowards prattle more than men of worth. 
George. Sirra, darest thou trie me ? 9i. 
Scarlet. I, sirra, that I date. 
27ey flh4 - George a Greene bea[s 
jPdruch. How now! what, art thou downe ? 
Corne, sir, I ara next. 
T]ey flh4  George a Greene 3eates hm. 
o3in _ood. Corne, sirra, now to me: spare me hOt, 
For Ile not spare thee. 980 
Geerge. Make no doubt I will be as liberall to thee. 
2ey flght; obin Hood stayes. 

/#fn _f-/#d. Stay, George, for he'e I doo protes, 
Thou art he souest champion hat euer I |ayd 
Handes vpon. 
G«#r«. Sort, you sir! by your leaue, you lye ; 
¥ou neuer yet laid hands on me. 
Robin ]food. George, wilt thou forsake Wakefield, 
.And go with me ? 
Tvo liueries will I giue thee euerie yeere, 
And fortie crownes shall be thy fee. 
George. Why, who art thou ? 
l?obin ]food. Why, Robin Hood: 
I am come hither with my Marian 
.And these my yeomen for to visit thee. 
G«orge. Robin Hood! next to king Edward 
Art thou leefe to me. 
Welcome, sweet Robin; welcome, mayd Marian ; 
.And welcome, you my friends. 
Will you to my poore house ; 
You shall haue wafer cakes your fill, 
A peece of beefe hung vp since Martlemas, 
Iutton and veale: if this like you not, 
Take that you finde, or that you bring, for me. 
lobin IJ'oad. Godamercies, good George, 
Ile be thy ghest to day. 
George. Robin, therein thou honourest me. 
Ile leade the way. 


99 ° 



(ACT V. SCEN: I. Al tradford.) 
Enter King Edward and King Iames disffufsed, with lwo staues. 
2dzz,ard. Come on, king Iames, now wee are 
Thus disguised, 
There is none, (I know,) will take vs to be Kings: 
I thinke we are now in ]3radford, 
Where all the merrie shoomakers dwell. 
2ïnler a Shoomaker. 
Shoomaker. I)owne with your staues, my friends, 
Downe with them. 



dward. Downe with our staues! I pray thee, why so ? ,oi 5 
Shoomaker. My friend, I see thou art a stranger heere, 
Else wouldest thou not haue questiond of the thing. 
This is the towne of merrie Bradford, 
And here hath beene a custome kept of olde, 
That none may beare his staffe vpon his necke, ,020 
But traile it all along throughout the towne, 
Vnlesse they meane to haue a bout with me. 
dward. But heare you, sir, bath the King 
Granted you this custome ? 
S/zoomaker. King or Kaisar, none shall passe this way, lO-5 
Except King Edward ; 
No, nor the stoutest groome that haunts his court: 
Therefore downe with your staues. 
dward. What were we best to do ? 
_lames. Faith, my Lord, they are stoute fellowes; 103o 
And because we will see some sport, 
We will traile out staues. 
dward. Heer'st thou, my friend ? 
13ecause we are men of peace and trauellers, 
We are content to traile our staues. Io35 
Shoomaker. The way lyes before you, go along. 
1Fnlcr Robin Hood and George a Greene, disguised. 
dgobin Z-food. See, George, two men are passing 
Through the towne, 
Two lustie men, and yet they traile their staues. 
George. Robin, they are some pesants, lO4O 
Trickt in yeomans weedes.--Hollo, you two trauellers! 
du,ard. Call you vs, sir? 
George. I, you. Are ye hOt big inough to beare 
Your bats vpon your neckes, 
But ),ou must traile them along the streetes ? ,045 
dwar. Yes, sir, we are big inough ; but here is a custome 
Kept, that none may passe, his staffe vpon his necke, 
Vnless he traile it at the weapons point. 
Sir, we are men of peace, and loue to sleepe 
In our whole skins, and therefore quietnes is best. ,050 
George. Base minded pesants, worthlesse to be men! 
What, haue you bones and limmes to strike a blow, 
.And be your hearts so faint you cannot fight ? 


Wert not for shame, I would shrub your shoulders well, 
And teach you manhood against another time. Io55 
Shoom. Well preacht, sir Iacke! downe with your staffe! 
dwar. Do you heare, my friends ? and you be wise, 
Keepe downe your staues, 
For all the towne will rise vpon you. 
George. Thou speakest like an honest quiet fellow: io6o 
But heare you me; In spire of all the swaines 
Of ]3radford town, beare me your staues vpon your necks, 
Or, to begin withall, Ile baste you both so well, 
You were neuer better basted in your liues. 
dze,ard. We will hold vp our staues. o6 5 
George a Greene fights witk the Shoomakers» and eates t/wm all downe. 
George. What, haue you any more ? 
Çall ail your towne forth, cut, and longtaile. 
The Shoomakers s2y George a Greene. 
Shoomaker. What, George a Greene, is it you ? 
A plague found you! 
I thinke you long'd to swinge me well. 
Çome, George, we wil crush a pot before we part. 
George. A pot, you slaue! we will haue an hundred.-- 
Heere, Will Perkins, take my purse, 
Fetch me a stand of Ale, and set in the Market place, 
That ail may drinke that are athirst this day ; 
For this is for a feee to welcome Robin Hood 
To Bradford towne. 
They bring o«t the stande of ale, and fall a drinking. 
Here, Robin, sit thou here ; for thou art the best man 
At the boord this day. 
You that are strangers, place your selues where you will. toSo 
Robin, heer's a carouse to good King Edwards selfe; 
.And they thàt loue him not, I would we had 
The basting of theln a litle. 
nler lhe Earle of Warwicke wilh olher noNe men, aringing out lhe 
Kings garmenls; l/ten George a Greene and l/te resl kneele downe 
lhe King. 
Fdward. Corne, masters, ate fellowes. 
Nay, Robin, you are the best man at the boord to-day. 
Rise vp, George. o8 
105i drub Dyce 

George. Nay, good my Liege, ill nurturd we were, then: 
Though we Yorkeshire men be blunt of speech» 
And litle skild in court or such quaint fashions, 
Yet nature teacheth vs duetie to our king ; o9o 
Therefore I humbly beseech you pardon George a Greene. 
Robin. And good my Lord, a pardon for poore Robin 
And for vs all a pardon, good King Edward. 
Slzoama/er. I pray you, a pardon for the Shoomakers. 
Edward. I frankely grant a pardon to you ail: io95 
And, George a Greene, giue me thy hand ; 
There is none in England that shall doe thee wrong. 
Euen from my court I came to see thy selfe ; 
And now I see that fame speakes nought but trueth. 
George. I humbly thanke your royall Maiestie. iioo 
That which I did against the Earle of Kendal, 
It was but a subiects duetie to his Soueraigne, 
And therefore little merit(s) such good words. 
dward. But ere I go, Ile grace thee with good deeds. 
Say what King Edward may performe, 
And thou shalt haue it, being in Englands bounds. 
George. I haue a louely Lemman, 
As bright of blee as is the siluer moone, 
_And olde Grimes her father will not let her match 
Vith me, because I ara a Pinner, 
Although I loue her, and she me, dearely. 
k'dward. Where is she ? 
George. At home at my poore house, 
And vowes neuer to marrie vnlesse ber father 
Giue consent; which is my great griefe, my Lord. III 
tF.dward. If this be all, I will dispatch it straight 
Ile send for Grime and force him giue his grant: 
He will not denie King Edward such a sure. 
2ïnler Ienkin, and sbeakes. 
(fenkin.) Ho, who saw a toaster of mine ? 
Oh, he is gotten into company, and a bodie should rake I2O 
Hell for companie. 
George. Peace, ye slaue! see where King Edward is. 
Edward. George, what is he ? 
George. I beseech your grace pardon him, he is my man. 
Slzoomaker. Sirra, the king hath bene drinking with vs, xI2 5 

And did pledge vs too. 
Zenkin. Hath he so ? kneele ; I dub you gentlemen. 
Shoomaker. Beg it of the King, Ienkin. 
)énkin. I wil.--I beseech your worship grant me one thing. 
.Edward. What is that ? i i3o 
.[enkin. Hearke in your eare. [_,rare wh[s.pers tlze King in lhe eare.] 
.Edward. Goe your wayes, and doit. 
.[enkin. Corne, downe on your knees, I haue got it. 
,S]«oomaker. Let vs heare what it is first. 
.[enkin. Mary, because you haue drunke with the King, and the i i3 
king bath so graciously pledgd you, you shall be no more 
called Shoomakers ; but you and yours, to the worlds ende, 
shall be called the trade of the gentle craft. 
• çhoomaker. I beseech your maiestie reforme this which he bath 
spoken, x 14o 
.[emin. I beseech your worship consume this which he hath 
Edzvard. Confirme it, you would say.--Well, he bath done it 
for you, itis sufficient.--Come, George, we will goe to Grime, 
and haue thy loue. 114 
.[en/in. I ana sure your worship will abide ; for yonder is 
comming olde Musgroue and mad Cuddie his sonne.--Master, 
my fellow Wilie cornes drest like a woman, and toaster Grime 
will marrie Wilie. Heere they corne. 
2tler Musgroue and Cuddie, and toaster Grime, Wilie, Mayd 
Marian, tï Bettris. 
.Edward. Which is thy old father, Cuddie? IlSO 
Cuddie. This, if it please your maiestie. 
.Edward. Ah old Musgroue, kneele vp ; 
It fits not such gray haires to kneele. 
.M'usgroue. Long liue my Soueraigne t. 
Long and happie be his dayes t. ii 
Vouchsafe, my gracious Lord, a simple gift 
At Billy Musgroues hand. 
King Iames at Meddellom castle gaue me thïs ; 
This wonne the honour, and this giue I thee. 
.Edward. Godamercie, Musgroue, for this friendly gift ; 
And, for thou feldst a king with this saine weapon, 
This blade shall here dub valiant Musgroue knight. 
ll«sg. Alas, what bath your highnes done? I ana poore. 


2dw. To mend thy liuing take thou Meddellom Castle, 
.And hold of me. And if thou want liuing, complaine, 1163 
Thou shalt haue more to mainetaine thine estate. 
George, which is thy loue? 
George. This, if please your maiestie. 
dzvard. Art thou her aged father ? 
Grime. I ana, and it like your maiestie. 
.E&var. And wilt hOt giue thy daughter vnto George ? 
Grime. Yes, my Lord, if he will let me marrie 
With this louely lasse. 
.E&vard. What sayst thou, George ? 
George. With all my heart, my Lord, I giue consent. 
Grime. Then do I giue my daughter vnto George. 
lKilie. Then shall the mariage soone be at an end. 
Witnesse, my Lord, if that I be a woman ; 
For I ana Wilie, boy to George a Greene, 
Who for my master wrought this subtill shift, i8o 
dward. What, is ita boy ? what sayst thou to this, Grime ? 
Grime. Mary, my Lord, I thinke this boy hath 
More knauerie, than all the world besides. 
Yet ara I content that George shall both haue 
My daughter and my lands. 
2dward. Now, George, it rests I gratifie thy worth: 
And therefore here I doe bequeath to thee, 
In full possession, halle that Kendal hath ; 
And what as [Bradford holdes of me in chiefe, 
I giue it frankely vnto thee for euer. ii9 o 
Kneele downe, Gëorge. 
George. What will your Maiestie do ? 
dward. Dub thee a knight, George. 
George. I beseech your grace, grant me one thing. 
dward. What is that ? i 19 
George. Then let me liue and die a yeoman still : 
So was my father, so must liue his sonne. 
For tis more credite to men of base degree, 
To do great deeds, than men of dignitie. 
dward. Well, be it so, George. 2oo 
Yames. I beseech your grace dispatch with me, 
And set downe my ransome. 
lira And hold of me] The hold of both (2 


Edze,ard. George a Greene, set downe the king of Scots 
His ransome. 
George. I beseech your grace pardon me ; ,205 
It passeth my skill. 
Edce,ard. Doit, the honor's thine. 
George. Then let king Iames make good 
Those townes which he hath burnt vpon the borders 
Giue a small pension to the fatherlesse, 
Whose fathers he caus'd murthered in those warres 
Put in pledge for these things to your gra.ce, 
And so retume. 
(£dce,ard.) King Iames, are you content? 
zmie. I ana content, and like your maiestie, II 5 
And will leaue good castles in securitie. 
dward. I craue no more.--Now, George a Greene, 
Ile to thy house; and when I haue supt, Ile go to Aske, 
And sec if Iane a Barley be so faire 
As good King lames reports her for to be. 
And for the ancient custome of Kaile Slaffe, keepe it still, 
Clayme priuiledge from me: 
If any aske a reason why, or how, 
Say, English Edward vaild his staffe to you. 
1214 Edwararj George Q 



THIS poem had long disappeared, and was not known to be in 
existence till I845, when it was discovered by Mr. James P. Ieardon, 
who sent a transcript of it to the Council of the Shakespeare Society, 
among whose papers it was printed (vol. ii. pp. I27-45). Dyce 
in:orporated it in the second edition of his Greene, but neither 
Mr. Reardon's tmnscript nor Dyce's is quite accurate. The original, 
a quarto of ten leaves--4to in Roman letter--is now in the library 
of Lambeth Palace. It has been transcribed for my text, and is here 
exactly reproduced. 
Te Alaidot's Dream was thus entered in the Stationers' Registers: 
'Thomas nelson: entred for his copie vnder th(e) (h)andes of Master 
Frauncis Flower and toaster watkins A maydens Dreame vppon the 
Death of my Late lorde Chanceleur, Sir C. Hatton... vjà, (Arber, 
Transcritts, vol. ii. p. uSu b). 
Christopher Hatton, the third son of William Hatton of Holdenby 
in l'qorthamptonshire, and Alice, daughter of Lawrence Sauuders of 
Harrington, in that county, was born at Holdenby in I54o. He was 
entered as a Gentleman Commoner of St. Mary Hall, Oord, but 
left the University without a degree. On May 26, I56o , he became 
a member of the Inner Temple, and in the following year he supported 
the part of blaster of the Gaine in a splendid masque at the In.ner 
Temple. ' Being young, of a comely tallness of body and countenance, 
he got into such favour with the Queen, that she took him into her 
hand of fifty Gentlemen Pensioners' (Camden, Annals of 2ueen 
Elizabet]t, bk. iv. p. 34)- Not long afterwards he became one of the 
Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber. In I568 he took part in the 
composition of the well-known tragedy Tancred and Gismunda, the 
fourth act being written by him. In I572 he was elected Knight of 
the Shire for Northampton. In 577 he was ruade Vice-Chamberlain 
of the Queen's household, being knighted by the Queen in the saine 
month, and it was generally believed in Court circles that he had 
taken the place of Leicester in the Queen's affections. On April 29, 
I587, he succeeded Bromley as Lord High Chancellor, as the Earl 
of Rutland, who had been appointed, died belote he received the 
seals. His elevation to this post created the greatest surprise, and 
gave great offence to the great lawyers, who regarded him as a mere 
fribble and courtier. Yet,' says Camden, he bare the place with 
the greatest state of all that we ever saw, and what was lacking in him 
in knowledge of the law, he laboured to supply by equity and justice.' 
He was no doubt a man who could by natural astuteness give much 
dignity to ignorance and incompetence. He died l'qov. 2o, 159I , and 
was buried in great state in St. Paul's Cathedral. He left no Will, 

but he had settled his estates, which were considerable, upon his 
nephew, Sir William Newport, a/ias Hatton, and the heir male of 
his body failing, Sir William accordingly succeeded. Sir \Viliiam had 
married in 1589 Elizabeth, daughter and heiress of Sir Francis Gaudy, 
Justice of the King's 13ench--the lady to whom this poem is dedicated. 
See Sir Harris Nicolas, Lire and Times af çir Christofi]ter H«tlan, 
p. 502. Greene vas not the only poet who celebrated Hatton's 
virtues in a funeral poem. In Arber's )ranscrils, vol. ii. p. 282, 
under Nov. 24, 1592, is entered /la»2e«taMe discaurse af the deatie of 
t/te righte ttozorable çir Christofiher t]atlon kni.ç]le l«te larde 
Chancelour of E.(lamt. This I have not seen, and know hot whether 
it be extant. Among the Roxburghe Club publications (4 Lamîbort 
Gar[and, edited by Charles Edmonds) is 
lire and dea/h of lhe Rtht ftonourable Sir Christo2#her HaAton, laie 
Lord C]mncellor of England. Published by John Pkilli23s. It speaks 
well for the truth of these eulogies that they corroborate each other, 
and are corroborated by Camden's account, ZInn«les, sub 159I, in 
a singular way, both dvelling on the same virtues. Camden thus 
sums up Hatton's character: 'Vir ingenio pio, summâ in egenos 
miseratione, eximiâ in bonarum literarum studiosos munificenti., 
et qui in gravissimo Cancellarii Angliae munere perfungendo, rectae 
voluntatis conscientiâ se sustentare poterat.' Hatton, as we know 
from other sources, was a patron of poets and men of letters. 
Spenser's sonnet to him is well known, and Christopher Ockland 
(quoted in Sir Harris Nicolas's Lire oft-/atton, p. 5oo), in his Et'pqapXa 
or tï/izabetha, gives this picture of him 
' Splendidus Hatton 
llle Satelitii regalis ductor, ovanti 
lPectore, Maecenas studiosis, maximus altor 
Et fautor verae virtutis, munificusque.' 
I-Ie was also bewailed and eulogized in a volume of verse by various 
hands entitled Alusarum PlateEores. See Wood's A/lien. O'on. (Bliss), 
vol. i. p. 583. And in the Polimazteia on the eUeanes Laful and 
U21awfid la ju#ge q[ the fate of a Commanweallh, &c., by R. C., 
the writer thus dêscribes him :-- 
' Then naine but Haltan, the muses fauourite : the Churches music : 
Learning's patron, my once porte Iland's ornament: the Courtier's 
grace, the Schollar's countenance, and the Guardes Captaine. Thames 
I date auouch will become teares: the sveetest parfumes of the 
Court will bee sad sighes: Euerie action shall accent griefe: honor 
and Eternitie shall striue to make his tombe and after curious skill 
and infinite cost ingraue this with golden letters minus merito: the 
fainting hand vntimely Chasde [his crest] shall trip towards heauen 
and tamtem si shall be vertues mot.' 
For particular allusions to Hatton's actions and character referred 
to in the poem, sêe the notes. 


Vpon the Death of the right Honorable Sir 
Christopher Hatton Knight, late 
Lord Chancelor of England 

By Robert Green Master of Arts. 

Imprinted at London by Thomas Scarlet 
for Thomas Nelson. 1,591. 



right worshipful, bountifull and vertuous 
the Ladie Elizabeth Hatton, wife 
the right Worshipful Sir William 
Hatton Knight, increase of 
all honorable vertues. 

The Epistle Dedicatorie. 
Mourning as well as many (right Worshipfull Ladie) for the 
late losse of the right Honorable your deceased Unckle, whose 
death being the common preiudice of the present age, was 
lamented of most (if not all) and I among the test sorrowing 
that my Countrie was depriued of him that liued not for himselfe, 5 
but for his Countrie, I began to call to mind what a subiect was 
ministred to the excellent wits of both Vniuersities to work vpon, 
when so worthie a Knight, and so vertuous a Iusticiarie, had 
by his death left many memorable actions performed in his lire, 
deseruing highly by some rare pen to be registred. Passing ouer io 
many daies in this muse, at last I perceiued mens humors slept, 
that loue of many friends followed no farther then their graues, 
that _Art was growen idle, and either choice schollers feared to 
write of so high a subiect as his vertues, or else they dated their 
deuotions no farther then his lire. While thus I debated with 5 
my selle, I might see (to the great disgrace of the Poets of out 
time) some Mycanicall wits blow vp Mountaines, and bring forth 
mise, who with their follies did rather disparage his Honors, than 
decypher his vertues : beside, as Yirtutis cornes est inuidia, so base 
report who hath her tong blistered by slanderous enuie, began 2o 
as farre as she durst, now after his death, to murmure, who in his 
lire time durst not once mutter: wherupon touched with a zealous 
iealousie ouer his wonderfull vertues, I could not, whatsoeuer 
discredit I reapt by my presmnption, although I did 2ènui Auem 
tneditari, but discouer the honorable qualifies of so worthie 2 5 
a Counsellor, nor for anie priuat benefit I euer had of him, which 

8 the] a Q 10 pen] men Q 


should induce me fauorably to flatter his worthie partes, but onely 
that I shame to let slip with silence, the vertues and honors of so 
worthie a Knight, whose deserts had bin so many and so great 
tmvards al. Therfore (right worshipful Ladie) I drewe a fiction 30 
called A Maidens Dreame, which as it is .Edgmalical/, so it is not 
without some speciall and considerate reasons.--Whose slender 
Al-use I present vnto your Ladiship, induced therunto, first, that 
I know you are partaker of your husbands sorrowes for the death 
of his honourable Uncle, and desire to heare his honors put in 35 
memorie after his death, as you wished his aduancement in 
vertues to be great in his life : as also that I ana your Ladiships 
poore Countriman, and haue long time desired to gratifie your 
right worshipfull father with some thing worthie him selfe. Which 
because I could not to my Content performe, I haue now taken 40 
oportunitie to shew my duetie to him in his daughter, although 
the gift be farre too meane for so worshipfull and vertuous a 
Lady. Yet hoping your Ladishippe will with courtesie fauour my 
presuming follies, and in gratious acceptance vouch of my well 
lneant labours, 45 
I humbly take my leaue. 
Your Ladiships humbly at Commaund 
t.. GREENE. 2Vordovice¢sis. 


{ETHOVGHT ill slumber as I lay and dreamt, 
I sawe a silent spring raild in with Ieat, 
From sunnie shade or murmur quite exempt 
The glide whereof gainst weeping flints did beat, 
And round about were leauelesse beeches set, 
So darke, it seemed nights mantle for to borrow, 
And well to be the gloomie den of sorrow. 
About this spring in mourning roabes of" blacke, 
Were sundrie Nymphs or Goddesses, me thought, 
That seemly sate in rankes iust backe to backe, 
On Mossie benches Nature there had wrought. 
And cause the wind and spring no murmure brought " 
They fild the aire with such laments and groanes, 
That Eccho sigh'd out their heart-breaking mones. 



Elbow on knee, and head vpon their hand, 
As mourners sit, so sat these Ladies all, 
Garlauds of Eben-bowes whereon did stand, 
A golden crowne, their mantles were of pall, 
And from their waterie eies warme teares did fall, 
With wringing hands they sat and sigh'd like those, 
That had more griefe then well they could disclose. 
I lookt about and by the fount I spied, 
A Knight lie dead, yet all in armour clad, 
Booted and spurd, a faulchion by his side, 
A Crowne of Oliues on his hehne he had, 
As if in peace and war he were adrad, 
A golden Hind was placed at his feet, 
Whose valed eares bewraid her inward greet. 
She seemed wounded by her panting breath, 
Her beating breast with sighs did fall and rise, 
Wounds was there none, it was her masters death, 
That drew Electrum from her weeping eies, 
Like scalding smoake her braying throbs outflies, 
As Deere do mourne when arrow bath them galled 
So was this Hinde with Hart-sicke pains inthralled. 
Iust at his head there sate a Sumptuous Queene, 
I gest ber so, for why she wore a crowne, 
Yet were ber garments parted white and greene, 
Tierd like vnto the picture of renowne, 
Vpon ber lap she laid his head a downe, 
Vnlike to all she smiled on his face, 
Which ruade me long to know this dead mans case. 
s thus I lookt, gan h«stice to arise, 
I knew the Coddes by ber equall beame, 
And dewing on his face balme from ber eies, 
She wet his visage with a yearnfull streame, 
Sad mournfull lookes did from her arches gleame, 
And like to one, whom sorrow deep attaints, 
With heaued hands she poureth forth these plaints. 


4 o 


COI.I.1N$, 11 Q 


Yntoward Twins that tempers humane rate, 
Who from your distaffe draws the lire of man 
t)arce impartiall to the highest state, 
Too soone you cut what Clotho earst began, 
Your fatall doomes tbis present age may ban, 
For you have robd the world of such a Knight, 
As best cqld skii to ballance Iustice right. 
His eyes were seates for mercy and for law, 
Fauour in one, and Iustice in the other: 
The poore he smoth'd, the proud he kept in aw, 
As iust to strangers as vnto his brother. 
Bribes could not make him any wrong to smother, 
For to a Lord, or to the lowest Groome: 
Stil conscience and the cawes set down the doome. 
Delaying law that picks the clients purse 
Ne could this knight abide to heare debated 
From day to day (that claimes the poor mans curse) 
Nor might the pleas be ouer-long dilated. 
Much shifts of law there was by him abated. 
With conscience carefully he heard the cause: 
Then gaue his doome with short dispatch of lawes. 
The poore mans crie he thought a holy knell, 
No sooner gan their suites to pearce his eares, 
But faire-eyed pitie in his heart did dwell. 
And like a father that affection beares 
So tendred he the poore with inward teares. 
And did redresse their wrongs when they did call: 
But poore or rich he still was iust to all. 
Oh wo is me (saith Iustice) he is dead, 
The knight is dead that was so iust a man: 
And in Astrœeas lap low lies his head, 
Who whilom wonders in the world did scan. 
Iustice hath lost ber chiefest lira, what than. 
At this her sighes and sorowes were so sore: 
And so she wept that she could speak no more. 
80 Asteras ( 






A wreath of Serpents bout her lilly wrist, 
Did seemly Prudence weare: she then arose, 
A siluer Doue satt mourning on her fist, 
Teares on hir cheeks like dew vpon a rose, 
And thus began the Goddesse greeful glose. 
Let England mourn, for why ? his daies are don 
Whom Prudence nurced like ber dearest sonne. 
ttatton, at that I started in my dreame, 
But not awooke: Hatton is dead quoth she, 
Oh, could I pour out teares like to a streame, 
A sea of theln would not sufficient be, 
For why our age had few more wise then he. 
Like oracles, as were Apollos sawes: 
So were his words accordant to the lawes. 
Wisdome sate watching in his wary eyes, 
His insight subtil, if vnto a foe, 
He could with counsels Commonwelths comprise, 
No forraine wit could Hattons ouergoe 
Yet to a frend, wise, simple, and no mo. 
His ciuill policie vnto the state 
Scarce left behind him now a second mate. 
For Countries weale his councel did exceede, 
And Eagle-eyed he was to spie a fault: 
For warres or peace right wisely could he reed: 
Twas hard for trechors fore his lookes to hault. 
The smooth-fac'd traitor could not him assault. 
As by his Countries loue his grees did rise, 
So to his Countrey was he simple wise. 
This graue aduiser of the Commonweale, 
This prudent Counceller vnto his Prince, 
Whose wit was busied with his Mistres heale, 
Secret conspiracies could wel conuince, 
Whose insight perced the sharp-eyed Linx. 
He is dead, at this her sorowes were so sore: 
And so she wept that she could speake no more. 
86 she l)yce suggcsts who 



Next Fortitude arose vnto this Knight, 
And by his side sate doun with stedfast eyes. 
A broken Columb twixt her arms was pight 
She could not weep nor pour out yernful cries, 
From Fortitude sucn base affects nil fise. 
Brass-renting Goddesse, she cannot lainent, 
Yet thus ber plaints with breathing sighs were spent. 
Within the Maidens Court, place of all places, 
I did aduance a man of high desert: 
Vhom Nature had ruade proud with all her graces 
Inserting courage in his noble heart, 
No perils drad could euer make him start. 
But like to ScaeuoIa, for countries good, 
He did not value for to spend his blood. 
His lookes were sterne, though in a lire of peace. 
Though not in warres, yet war hung in his browes: 
His honor did by martiall thoughts increase, 
To martiall men liuing this Knight aIlowes, 
And by his sword he solemnly auowes 
Thogh not in war, yet if that war were here, 
As warriors do to value honor deere. 
Captens he kept and fostered them with fee, 
Soldiers were seruants to this martiall Knight, 
bien might his stable full of coursers sec, 
Trotters, whose manag'd lookes would soin afright. 
His armorie was rich and warlike dight. 
And he himselfe if any need had craued, 
]Vould as stout Hector haue himselfe behaued. 
I lost a frend when as I lost his life, 
Thus playned Fortitude, and frownd withalI, 
Cursed be Atrapos, and curst her knife, 
That ruade the Capten of my gard to fall, 
Whose verrues did his honors high install. 
At this she storm'd, and wrong out sighes so sore: 
That what for grief her tongue could speak no more. 
121 eyes Dyce: eye Q 
lPyce : auowed Q 




5 o 

128 desert cooE, l)yce: degree Q 138 auowes 


Then Temperance with bridle in her hand, 
Did mildly look vpon this liuelesse Lord, 
And like to weeping Niobe did stand, 
Her sorrowes and her teares did wel accord, 
Their Diapason was in selle-saine cord, 
Here lies the man (quoth she) that breath'd out this: 
'Fo shun fond pleasures is the sweetest blisse. 
No choice delight could draw his eyes awry, 
He was not bent to pleasures fond conceits, 
Inueigling pride, nor worlds sweet vanitie, 
Loues luring follies with their strange deceits, 
Could wrap this Lord within their baleful sleights. 
But he despising all, said man was grasse: 
His date a span, et omnia vanitas. 
Temperate he was, and tempered al his deedes, 
He brideled those affects that might offend, 
He gaue his wil no more the raines then needs, 
He measured pleasures euer by the end: 
His thoughts on verrues censures did depend. 
What booteth pleasures that so quickly passe, 
When such delights are brickle like to glasse. 
First pride of lire, that subtil branch of sinne, 
And then the lusting hmnor of the eyes 
And base concupiscence which plies ber gin, 
These Sirens that doe worldlings stil intise, 
Could hOt allure his mind to think of vice. 
For he said stil, pleasures delight it is: 
That holdeth man from heauens deliteful blisse. 
Temperat he was in euery deep extreame, 
And could wel bridle his affects with reason: 
What I haue lost in loosing him then deeme 
Base death, that tooke away a man so geason, 
That measur'd euery thought by tyme and season. 
At this her sighes and sorowes were so sore: 
And so she wept that she could speake no more. 
156 Lord Dyce: cord Q 159 cord Z)yce: Lord Q 
tnj..Dyce: fickle Q 


175 brickle 



With open hands, and mourning lockes dependant, 
Bounty stept foorth to waile the dead mans losse. 
On her was loue and plenty both attendant, 
Teares in her eyes, armes folded quite acrosse : 
Sitting by him vpon a turfe of mosse, 
She sigh'd and said, here lies the knight deceased, 
Whose bountie, Bounties glorie much increased. 

His lookes were liberall, and in his face 
Sate frank Magnificence with armes displaid: 
His open hands discourst his inward grace: 
The poore were neuer at their need denaid: 
His careles score of gold his deedes bewraid. 
And this he crau'd, no longer for to liue: 
Then he had power, and mind, and wil to giue. 

No man went emptie from his frank dispose, 
He was a purse-bearer vnto the poore: 
He wel obseru'd the meaning of this glose, 
None lose reward that geueth of their store: 
To all his bounty past. Ay me therefore 
That he should die, with that she sigh'd so sore: 
And so she wept that she could speak no more. 

9 o 





Lame of a leg, as she had lost a lim 
Start vp kind Hospitalitie and wept, 
She silent sate awhile and sigh'd by him 
As one halfe maymed to this knight she crept, 
At last about his neck this Nimph she lept, 
And with her Cornucopia in her fist, 
For very loue his chilly lips she kist. 

Ay me, quoth she, my loue is lorn by death, 
My chiefest stay is crackt, and I am lame: 
He that his almes franckly did bequeath, 

190 lockes Z)yce: lookes Q 



And fed the poore with store of food: the same 
Euen he is dead, and vanisht is his naine. 
Whose gates were open, and whose ahnes deede 
Supplied the fatherlesse and widowes need. 
He kept no Christmas house for once a yeere, 
Each day his boards were fild with Lordly fare: 
He fed a rout of yeomen with his cheare, 
Nor was his bread and beefe kept in with care, 
His wine and beere to strangers were hOt spare. 
And yet beside to al that hunger greeued, 
His gates were ope, and they were there releeued. 
Wel could the poore tel where to fetch their bread, 
As JSausis and .P]dlemon were iblest 
For feasting Iupiter in strangers stead, 
So happy be his high immortal rest, 
That was to hospitalitie addrest: 
For few such liue, and then she sigh'd so sore, 
And so she wept that she could speak no more. 
Then Courtesie whose face was full of smiles, 
And frendship with her hand vpon her hart, 
And tender Charitie that loues no wiles, 
And Clemencie ther passions did impart. 
A thousand vertues there did straight vp start, 
And with ther teares and sighes they did disclose: 
For Hattons death their harts were fui of woes. 

Next from the farthest nooke of all the place, 
XVeping full sore, there rose a nimph in black 
Seemelie and sober with an Angels face, 
And sighd as if her heart strings straight should crak 
Hir outward woes bewraid her inward wracke. 
A golden booke she caried in her hand, 
It was religion that thus meeke did stand. 
God wot her garments were full looslie tucked 
As one that carelesse was in some despaire, 
To tatters were her roabes and vestures pluckt 

0.42 ther Dyce: her Q 




24 ° 


Her naked liras were open to the aire, 
Yet for all this ber lookes were blith and faire, 
And wondring how religion grew forlorne, 
I spied ber roabes by Heresie was tome. 
This holy creature sate her by this knight, 
And sigh'd out this, oh here he lies (quoth she) 
Liuelesse, that did religions lampe still light, 
Deuout without disselnbling, meeke and free 
To such whose words and liuings did agree, 
Lip-holines in Cleargie men he could not brooke, 
Ne such as counted gold aboue their booke. 
Ypright he liu'd, as holy writ him lead, 
I-tis faith was not in ceremonies old, 
1Nor had he new found toies within his head, 
Ne was he luke-warme, neither hot nor colde, 
But in religion he was constant bold, 
And still a sworne professed fo to all, 
Whose lookes were smooth, harts pharesaicall. 
The brainsicke and illiterate surmîsers, 
That like to saints would holy be in lookes, 
Of fond religions fabulous deuisers 
Who scornd the Academies and their bookes, 
And yet could sin as others in close nookes. 
To such wild-headed mates he was a foe: 
That rent ber robes, and wronged Religion so. 
Ne was his faith in mens traditions; 
I-le hated Antichrist and all his trash: 
He was hOt led away with superstitions, 
Nor was he in religion ouer rash: 
His hands from heresie he loued to wash. 
Then base report, ware what thy tongue doth spred, 
Tis sin and shame for to bely the dead. 
Hart-holy men he still kept at his table, 
Doctors that wel could doom of holie writ, 
13y theln he knew to seuer faith from fable, 
And how the text with iudgement for to hit: 
For Pharisies in Moses chaire did sit. 
At tbis Religion sigh'd and greeu' so sore: 
And so she wept that she could speak no more. 







Next might I see a rowt of Noble-men, 
Earles, Barons, Lords, in mourning weedes attir'd: 
I cannot paint their passions with my pen, 
Nor write so queintly as their woes requir'd. 
Their teares and sighs some tZomer's quil desir'd. 
But this I know their grief was for his death: 
That there had yeelded nature, lire and breath: 


Then came by Souldiers trailing of their pikes, 
Like men dismaid their beuers were adown; 
Their warlike hearts his death with sorrow strikes; 
Yea war hiln selfe was in a sable gowne: 
For griefe you might perceiue his visage frowne: 
And Scholers came by, with lalnenting cries, 
Wetting their bookes with teares fel froln their eies. 

The common people they did throng in flocks, 
Dewing their bosolnes with their yernfull teares, 
Their sighs were such as would haue rent the rocks, 
Their faces ful of griefe, dismay and feares, 
Their cries stroke pittie in my listning eares. 
For why? the groanes are lesse at hels black gate, 
Then Eccho there did then reuerberate. 
Some came with scrolles and papers in their hand, 
I ghest theln sutors that did rue his losse: 
Some with their children in their hand did stand, 
Some poore and hungrie with their hands acrosse: 
A thousand there sate wayling on the mosse. 
0 îOater t)atriae stil they cried thus: 
l-lotion is dead, what shal become of vs ? 
At ail these cries my heart was sore amoued, 
Which ruade me long to sec the dead mans face: 
What he should be that was so deare beloued, 
PRIMATES] Primate Q 






Whose worth so deepe had won the peoples grace. 
As I came pressing neere vnto the place, 
I lookt, and though his face were pale and wan, 
Yet by his visage I did know the man. 
No sooner did I cast naine eie on him 
But in his face there flasht a ruddie hue; 
And though before his lookes by death were grim, 
Yet seemd he smiling to my gazing view 
(As if though dead, my presence still he knew :) 
Seeing this change within a dead man's face, 
I could hot stop my teares, but wept a pace. 
I cald to minde how that it was a knight, 
That whilome liu'd in Eglands happie soile, 
I thought vpon his care and deepe insight, 
For countries weale, his labour and his toile 
He tooke, least that the English State might folle, 
And how his watchfull thought from first had been 
Vowed to the honor of the maiden Queene. 
I cald to minde againe he was my friend, 
And held my quiet as his hearts content ; 
What was so deare, for me he would hot spend, 
Then thoght I straight, such friends are seldom hent: 
Thus still from loue to loue my humor went, 
That pondering of his loyaltie so free, 
I wept him dead, that liuing honord me. 
At this Astraea seeing me so sad, 
Gan blithly comfort me with this replie: 
Virgin (quoth she) no boote by teares is had, 
Nor doth laments ought pleasure them that die, 
Soules must haue change from this mortalitie, 
For liuing long sinne bath the larger space, 
And dying well they finde the greater grace. 
And sith thy teares bewraies thy loue (quoth she) 
His soule with me shall wend vnto the skies, 
His liuelesse bodie I will Ieaue to thee, 
Let that be earthde and tombde in gorgeous wise, 
Ile place his ghost anaongst the Hierarchies: 
For as one starre another far exceeds, 
So soules in heauen are placed by their deeds. 

33 ° 


34 ° 


35 ° 




With that me thought within her golden lap, 
(This Sun-bright Goddesse smiling with her eie,) 
The soule of Z-Zatton curiously did wrap, 
And in a cloud was taken vp on hie. 
Vaine Dreames are fond, but thus as then dreamt I, 
And more me thought I heard the Angels sing 
An Alleluia for to welcome him. 

As thus attendant faire Astrea flew, 
The Nobles, Commons, yea and euerie wight, 
That liuing in his life time Z-Zatlon knew, 
Did deepe lament the losse of that good Knight: 
But when Astrea was quite out of sight, 
For griefe the people shouted such a screame: 
That I awooke and start out of my dreame. 





Since Ladie milde (too base in aray) hath liude as an exile, 
None of account but stout : if plaine ? state slut hOt a courtresse 
Dames nowadayes? fie none: if not new guised in all points 
Fancies fine, sawst with conceits, quick wits verie wilie. 
Vords of a Saint, but deedes gesse how, fainde faith to deceiue 
men. 5 
Courtsies coy, no vale but a vaunt trickt vp like a Tuscan. 
Paced in print, braue loftie lookes, not vsde with the vest.als. 
In hearts too glorious, not a glaunce but fit for an Empresse. 
As mindes most valorous, so strange in aray: mary stately. 
Vp fro the wast like a man, new guise to be casde in a 
dublet. o 

370 sing]/?yce st. hynm 
I Q u93 

72, attendant] ascendant l?yce 



1)owne to the foote (perhaps like a maid) but hosde to the 
Some close breetcht to the crotch for cold, tush ; peace, ris 
a shame Syr, 
Haires by birth as blacke as Iet, what ? art can amend them. 
A perywig frounst fast to the frunt, or curld with a bodkin. 
Hats from Fraunce thicke pearld for pride, and plumde like 
a peacocke. 15 
Ruffes of a syse, stiffe starcht to the necke, of Lawne ; mary 
Gownes of silke, why those be too bad side, Mde with a 
Small and gent I' the wast, but backs as broade as a ]3urgesse. 
Needelesse noughts, as crisps, and scarphes worne à la Morisco. 
Fumde with sweetes, as sweete as chast, no want but abun- 
dance. o 



Whereat erewhile I wept, I laugh, 
That which I feared, I now despise 
My victor once, my vassall is, 
My fo constrainde, my weale supplie. 
Thus doo I triumph on my fo, 
I weepe at weale, I iaugh at wo. 
My care is cur'd, yet hath none ende, 
Not that I want, but that I haue, 
My chance was change, yet still I stay, 
I would haue lesse, and yet I craue: 
Ay me poore wretch that thus doe liue, 
Constraind to take, yet forst to giue. 
Shee whose delights are signes of Death, 
Who when she smiles, begins to lower. 
Constant in this that still she change, 
Hir sweetest gifles tyme proues but sowre. 
I liue in c_are, crost with hir guile, 
Through hir I weepe, at hir I smile. 
] 13 Heares Q 19 Alla Q II Qq ,U84, z6, 7 
.6z7, 1626 7 none] no Q z6z 7 9 charge Q i6. 7 



4 sapplies Q 


In tyme we see that siluer drops 
The craggy stones make sort: 
The slowest snaile in tyme, we see, 
Doth creepe and clime aloft. 
With feeble puffes the tallest pine 
In tract of time doth fall: 
The hardest hart in time doth yeeld 
To Venus luring call. 
Where chilling frost alate did nip, 
There flashcth now a tire: 
Where deepe disdaine bred noisome hate, 
There kind|eth now desire. 
Time causeth hope to haue his hap, 
What care in time not easde? 
In time I loathd that now I loue, 
In both content and pleasd. 



Her stature like the tall straight Cedar tmes, 
Whose stately bulkes doth faine th' Arabian groues, 
pace like princelie Iuno when she braued; 
The Queene of Loue fore Paris in the Vale, 
front beset with Loue and Courtesie, 5 
face like modest Pallas when she blusht: 
seelie shepeheard should be beauties Iudge: 
lip swete ruby red grac'd with delight, 
cheeke wherein for interchaunge of hue, 
wrangling strife twixt Lyllie and the Rose, o 
Her eyes two tinckling starres in winter nights, 
When chilling frost doth cleare the azurd skye: 
Her haire of golden hue doth dira the beames, 
That proud Apollo giueth from his coach: 
The Gnydian doues whose white and snowie pens, 5 
Doth staine the siluer streaming Iuory, 
III Qq I.4» 1017 IV Q i.87 


May not compare with those two mouing hils, 
Which topt with prettie teates discouers down a vale 
Wherein the God of loue may daigrte to sleepe: 
A foot like Thetis, when she tript the sands, 
"Fo steale Neptunes fauor with his steps. 
In fine a peece despight of Beautie framde, 
To shew what Natures linage could affoorde. 



The man whose methode hangeth by the Moone, 
and rules his diot by Geometrie: 
Whose restles mind rips up his mothers brest 
to part her bowels for his famille. 
And fetcheth Plutoes glee in fro the grasse, 
by carelesse cutting of a goddesse gifts: 
That throwes his gotten labour to the earth, 
as trusting to content for others shifts. 
Tis he good Sir that Saturne best did please, 
when golden world set worldlings ail at ease. 
His naine is Person, and his progenie 
Now tell me of what auncient petigree. 


The fickle seat whereon proud Fortune sits, 
the restles globe whereon the furie stands, 
Bewraies her fond and farre inconstant fits, 
the fruitfull home she handleth in her hands; 
Bids all beware to feare her flattering smiles, 
that giueth most when most she meaneth guiles. 
The wheele that turning neuer taketh rest, 
the top whereof fond worldlings count their blisse, 
Within a minute makes a blacke exchaunge: 
and then the vild and lowest better is: 
Which embleme tels vs the inconstant state, 
of such as trust to Fortune or to Fate. 
IV 22 In fine Z)yce To be briefe, Madam Q V Q z587 





The sweete content that quiets angrie thought: 
The pleasing sound of howshold harmonie: 
The Phisicke that alayes what furie wrought: 
The huswifes meanes to make true inelodie, 
Is not with Simple, Harpe or worldly pelfe, 
But Slnoothly by submitting of her selle. 
Iuno the Queene and mistresse of the skye, 
Vhen angry Ioue did threat her with a frowne, 
Causde Gamynede for Nectar fast to hye 
With pleasing face to wash such choller downe: 
For angry Husbands flndes the soonest ease, 
When sweete submission choller doth appease. 
The Lawrell that impales the head with praise, 
The Iemme that decks the breast of Iuorie: 
The pearle thats orient in her siluer raies: 
The Crowne that honors Dames with dignitie: 
No Saphier, gold, greene 13ayes nor margarit, 
But due obedience worketh this delight. 

The stately state that wise men count their good: 
The chiefest blisse that luls asleepe desire; 
Is not dissent from kings and princely blood: 
Ne stately Crowne ambition doth require. 
For birth by fortune is abased downe, 
And perrils are comprisde within a Crowne. 
The Scepter and the glittering pompe of mace, 
The head impalde with honour and renowne, 
The Kingly throne, the seate and regall place, 
Are toyes that fade when angrie fortune frowne. 
Content is farre from such delights as those, 
Whom woe and daunger doe enuy as foes. 
The Cottage seated in the hollowe dale, 
That fortune neuer feares, because so lowe: 
VII Qq 1587, .t6o« VIII Qq «.I87, r6or 





The quiet mynd that want doth set to sale,  
Sleepes safe when Princes seates do ouerthrowe. 
Want smyles secure, when princely thoughts do feele 
That feare and daunger treads vpon their heele. 
Blesse fortune thou whose frowne hath wrought thy good: 
Bid farewell to the Crowne that ends thy tare, 2o 
The happie fates thy sorrowes haue withstood, 
By syning want and pouertie thy share. 
For now content (fond fortune to despight) 
With patience lows thee quiet and delight. 

Aspyring thoughts led Phaeton amisse, 
Proude Icarus did rail he soard so hie: 
Seeke not to clymbe with fond Semyramis, 
Least Sonne reuenge the fathers injurie. 
Take heede, Ambition is a sugred iii 5 
That fortune layes, presumptuous mynds to spill. 
The bitter griefe that frets the quiet minde: 
The sting that pricks the froward man to woe 
Is Enuie, which in honor seld we finde, 
And yet to honor sworne a secret foe. fo 
Learne this of me, enuie hOt others state, 
The fruites of enuie is enuie and hate. 
The mistie Clowde that so eclipseth faine, 
That gets reward a Chaos of despight, 
Is blacke reuenge which euer winneth shame, I5 
A furie vyld thats hatched in the night. 
Beware, seeke hot reuenge against thy foe, 
Least once reuenge thy fortune ouergoe. 
These blasing Commets do foreshew mishap, 
Let not their flaming lights offend thyne eye 2o 
Looke ere thou leape, preuent an after clap: 
These three forewarnd well mayst thou flye. 
If now by choyce thou aymest at happie health, 
Eschew selfloue, choose for the Commonwealth. 
IX Qq u87, 16oi '20 their] the Q 16ol 

When Nature forged the faire vnhappy mould, 
Wherein proud beauty tooke her matchlesse shape: 
She ouer-slipt ber cunning and her skill, 
And aym'd to faire, but drew beyond the marke; 
For thinking to haue ruade a heauenly blisse, 
For wanton gods to dally with in heauen, 
And to haue fram'd a precious iem for men, 
To solace all their dumpish thoughts with glee, 
Shee wrought a plague, a poyson, and a hell 
For gods, for men; thus no way wrought she well. 
Venus was faire, faire was the queene of loue, 
Fairer then Pallas, or the wife of Ioue: 
Yet did the Gigglets beauty greeue the Smith, 
For that she brau'd the Creeple with a home. 
Mars said, her beauty was the starre of heauen, 
Yet did her beauty staine him with disgrace : 
Paris for faire, gaue her the golden ball; 
And bought his, and his fathers ruine so: 
Thus nature making what should farre excell, 
Lent gods, and men, a poison and a hell. 20 
The bird of Iuno glories in his plumes, 
Pride makes the Fowle to prune his feathers so, 
His spotted traine, fetcht from old Argus head, 
With golden rayes, like to the brightest sunne: 
Inserteth selle-loue in a sil]y bird, 
Till midst his hot an glorious fumes, 
He spies his feete, and then lets fall his plumes. 
Beauty breeds pride, pride hatcheth forth disdaine, 
Disdaine gets hate, and hate calls for reuenge, 
Reuenge with bitter prayers vrgeth still: io 
Thus selle-loue nursing vp the pompe of pride, 
Makes beautie wracke against an ebbing tide. 
X Q z6z7 XI Q z6z 7 


The richest gift the wealthy heauen affords, 
Tbe pearle of price sent from immortall Ioue, 
The shape wherein we most resemble gods, 
The tire Prometheus stole from lofty skies: 
This gift, this pearle, this shape, this tire is it, 
Which makes vs men bold by the naine of wit. 
By wit we search diuine aspect aboue, 
By wit we learne what secrets science yeelds, 
By wit we speake, by wit the mind is rul'd, 
By wit we gouerne all our actions: 
Wit is the Loaà-starre of each humane thought, 
Wit is the toole, by which all things are wrought. 
The brightest Iacynth hot becorameth darke, 
Of little steeme is Crystall being crackt, 
Fine heads that can conceit no good, but ill, 
Forge oft that breedeth ruine to themselues: 
Ripe wits abus'd that build on bad desire, 
Do burne themselues like flyes within the fire. 

Loue is a locke that linketh noble mindes, 
Faith is the key that shuts the spring of loue, 
Lightnesse a wrest, that wringeth all awry, 
Lightnesse a plague, that rancie cannot brooke: 
Lightnesse in loue, so bad and base a thing, 
As foule disgrace to greatest states do bring. 
ffirst 2"able. 
The Graces in their glorie neuer gaue 
A rich or greater good to womankind: 
XII Q 67 xln Q 67 XIV Q 6 7 




That more impall's their honors with the Palme, 
Of high renowne then matchlesse constancie. 
]3eauty is vaine, accounted but a flowre, 
Whose painted hiew fades with the summer sunne: 
Vit off hath wracke by selfe-conceit of pride. 
Riches is trash that fortune boasteth on. 
Constant in loue who tries a womans minde, 
Wealth, beautie, wit, and all in her doth find. 
Seco«d 2"able. 
Tb, e fairest Iem oft blemisht with a cracke, 
Loseth his beauty and his verrue too; 
The fairest flowre nipt with the winters frost, 
In shew seemes worser then the basest weede. 
Verrues are off farre ouerstain'd with faults, 
Were she as faire as Phoebe in ber sphere, 
Or brighter then the paramour of Mars, 
Wiser then Pallas daughter vnto Ioue, 
Of greater maiestie then Iuno was, 
More chaste then Vesta goddesse of the Maides, 
Of greater faith then faire Lucretia: 
]3e she a blab, and tattles what she heares, 
Want to be secret giues farre greater staines, 
Then vertues glorie which in her remaines. 





I.est thee desire, gaze not at such a Starre, 
Sweet fancy sleepe, loue take a nappe awhile: 
Thy busie thoughts that reach and rome so farre, 
With pleasant dreames the length of time beguile. 
Faire Venus coole my ouer-heated brest, 
And let my fancy take her wonted rest. 
Cupid abroad was lated in the night: 
His wings were wet with ranging in the raine: 
Harbour he sought, to me he tooke his flight, 
To drie his plumes: I heard the boy complaine, 
My doore I oped to grant him his desire, 
And rose my selfe to make the Wagge a tire. 
XV Q .t6.t 7 




Looking more narrow by the rires rame, 
I spyed his quiuer hanging at his backe: 
I fear'd the child might my misfortune frame, 
I would haue gone for feare of further wracke; 
And what I drad (poore man) did me betide, 
For foorth he drew an arrow from his side. 

He pierst the quicke that I began to start, 
The wound was sweete, but that it was too hic, 
And yet the pleasure had a pleasing smart: 
This done, he flyes away, his wings were drie, 
But left his arrow still within my brest, 
That now I greeue, I welcom'd such a ghest. 

The Swans whose pens as white as Iuory, 
Eclipsing fayre Endymions siluer-loue: 
Floting like snowe downe by the banckes of Po. 
Nere tund their notes like Leda once forlorne: 
With more dispairing sortes of madrigales, 
Then I whome wanton loue hath with his gad, 
Prickt to the courte of deepe and restlesse thoughts. 
Tlle frolike yoongsters ]3acchus liquor mads, 
Run not about the wood of Thessaly, 
With more inchaunted fits of lunacy, 
Then I whome loue, whome sweete and bitter loue, 
Fiers infects with sundry passions, 
Now lorne with liking ouerlnuch my loue, 
Frozen with fearing, if I step to far: 
Fired with gazing at such glymmering stars, 
As stealing light from Phebus brightest rayes, 
Sparkles and sets a flame within my brest, 
Rest restlesse Loue, fond baby be content: 
Child hold thy darts within thy quiuer close; 
And if thou wilt be rouing with thy bowe, 
Ayme at those hearts that may attend on loue, 
Let countrey swaines, and silly swads be still, 
To Court yoong wag, and wanton there thy fill. 
XVI Q 588 19 Q mis;rints childhood 





Obscure and darke is all the gloomie aire, 
The curtaine of the night is ouerspred: 
The sylent Mistresse of the lowest spheare, 
Puts on her sable coulored vale and lower. 
Nor Star nor Milkewhite cyrcle of the skye 
Appeares where discontent doth hold her lodge. 
She sits shrind in a Cannapie of Clouds, 
Whose massie darkenesse mazeth euery sense, 
Wan is her lookes, her cheekes of Azure hue, 
Hir haires as gorgons foule retorting snakes, 
Enuie the glasse wherein the hag doth gaze, 
Restlesse the clocke that chimes hir fasta sleepe, 
Disquiet thoughts the minuts of her watch, 
Forth from her Caue the fiend full oft dooth flie, 
To Kings she goes, and troubles them with Crownes, 
Setting those high aspiring brands on tire, 
That flame from earth vnto the seate of loue, 
To such as Midas, men that dote on wealth, 
And rent the bowels of the middle earth: 
For coine: who gape, as did faire I)anae, 
For showers of gold their discontent in blacke, 
Throwes forth the viols of her restlesse tares, 
To such as sit at Paphos for releefe, 
And offer Venus manie solemne vowes, 
To such as Hymen in his saffron robe, 
Hath knit a Gordion knot of passions, 
To these, to all, parting the glomie aire, 
Black discontent doth make hir bad repaire. 
In Cypres sat fayre Venus by a Fount, 
Wanton Adonis toying on her knee, 
She kist the wag, her darling of accompt, 
The Boie gan blush, which when his louer see, 
She smild and told him loue might challenge debt, 
And he was yoong and might be wanton yet. 






Fhe boy waxt bold fiered by fond desire, 
That woe he could, and court hir with conceipt, 
Reason spied this, and sought to quench the tire 
With cold disdaine, but wily Adon stmight 
Cherd vp the flame and saide good sir what let, 
I ara but young and may be wanton yet. 
Reason replied that Beawty was a bane 
To such as feed their fancy with fond loue, 
That when sweete youth with lust is ouertane, 
It rues in age, this could not Adon moue, 
For Venus taught him still this rest to set 
That he was young, and might be wanton yet. 
Where Venus strikes with ]3eauty to the quick, 
It litle vayles sage reason to reply: o 
Few are the cares for such as are loue-sicke 
But loue: then though I wanton it awry 
And play the wag: from Adon this I get, 
I ana but young and may be wanton yet. 
The Syren Venus nourist in hir lap 
Faire Adon, swearing whiles he was a youth 
He might be wanton: Note his after-hap 
The guerdon that such lawlesse lust ensueth, 
So long he followed flattering Venus lore, 
Till seely Lad, he perisht by a bore. 
Mars in his youth did court this lusty dame 
He woon hir loue, what might his fancy let 
He was but young: at last vnto his shame 
Vulcan intrapt them slily in a net, io 
And call'd the Gods to witnesse as a truth, 
A leachers fault was hot excus'd by youth. 
If crooked Age accounteth youth his spring; 
The spring, the fayrest season of the yeare, 
Enricht with flowers and sweetes, and many a thing 
That fayre and gorgeous to the eyes appeare: 
It fits that youth the spring of man should be, 
Richt with such flowers as vertue yeeldeth thee. 
xIx Q 188 


Faire is my loue for Aprill in her face, 
Hir louely brests September claimes his part, 
And Lordly Iuly in her eyes takes place, 
But colde December dwelleth in her heart: 
]31est be the months, that sets my thoughts on tire, 
Accurst that Month that hindreth my desire. 
Like Phoebus tire, so sparkles both her eies, 
As ayre perfumde with Amber is her breath: 
Like swelling waues her louely teates do fise, 
As earth hir heart, cold, dateth me to death. 
Aye me poore man that on the earth do liue, 
When vnkind earth, death and dispaire doth giue. 
In pompe sits Mercie seated in hir face, 
Loue twixt her brests his trophees dooth imprint. 
Her eyes shines fauour, courtesie, and grace: 
But touch her heart, ah that is framd of flynt; 
That fore my haruest in the Grasse beares graine, 
The rockt will weare, washt with a winters raine. 
Phillis kept sheepe along the westerne plaines, 
And Coridon did feed his flocks hard by: 
This Sheepheard was the flower of all the swaines, 
That trac'd the downes of fruitfull Thessalie, 
And Phillis that did far her flocks surpasse, 
In siluer hue was thought a bonny lasse. 
A Bonny lasse quaint in her Country tire, 
Vas louely Phillis, Coridon swore so: 
Her locks, her lookes, did set the swaine on tire, 
He leff his Lambes, and he began to woe, 
He lookt, he sitht, he courted with a kisse: 
No better could the silly swad then this. 
He little knew to paint a tale of Loue ; 
Sheepheards can rancie, but they cannot saye: 
XX Q ,.;88 XXI Q 






Phillis gan stalle, and wily thought to proue, 
What vncouth greefe poore Coridon did paie, 
She askt him how his flocks or he did rare, 
Yet pensiue thus his sighes did tell his care. 
The sheepheard blusht when Phillis questioned so, 
And swore by Panit was hot for his flocke: 
Tis loue faire Phillis breedeth all this woe: 
My thoughts are trapt within thy louely locks, 
Thine eye hath pearst, thy face hath set on tire. 
Faire Phillis kindleth Coridons desire. 
Can sheepheards loue, said Phillis to the swaine, 
Such saints as Phillis, Coridon replied: 
Then when they lust, can many fancies faine, 
Said Phillis: this not Coridon denied: 
That ]ust had lies, but loue quoth he sayes truth, 
Thy sheepheard loues, then Phillis what ensueth. 
Phillis was wan, she blusht and hung the head, 
The swaine stept to, and cher'd hir with a kisse, 
With faith, with troth, they stroke the matter dead, 
So vsed they when men thought not amisse: 
This Loue begun and ended both in one, 
Phillis was loued, and she lik't Corydon. 



Here lyes entombde Bellaria faire. 
Falsly accused to be vnchaste: 
Cleared by Apollos sacred doome, 
Yet s]aine by Iealousie at last. 
What ere thou bee that passeth by, 
Cursse him that causde this Queene to die. 

Dorastus (in Zoue-bassion) zvrites these lines in Praise of ]zis 
louinÆ and best-beloued twuia. 
Ah! were she pitiful as she is fair, 
Or but as mild as she is seeming so, 
XXII Qq z588, z6o7, _r6r 4 XXIII Q 1677 , 1696 



Then were my hopes greater than my despair; 
Then all the World were Heauen, nothing Woe. 
Ah! were her Heart relenting as ber Hand, 5 
That seems to melt e'en with the mildest touch, 
Then knew I where to seat me in a Land 
Vnder the wide Heauens, but yet not such: 
Iust as she shews, so seems the budding Rose, 
Yet sweeter far than is an earthly Flower ; o 
Soueraign of Beauty! like the spray she grows, 
Cmpass'd she is with Thorns and canker'd bower: 
Yet where she willing to be pluck'd and worn, 
She would be gathered, tho' she grew on Thorn. 
Ah! when she sings, all Musick else be still, i5 
For none must be compared to her Note; 
Ne'er breath'd such Glee from Philomela's Bill ; 
Nor from the Morning Singer's swelling Throat, 
Ah! when she riseth from her blissful Bed, 
She comforts ail the Vorld, as doth the Sun; 20 
And at her sight the Nights foul Vapours fled, 
When she is set, the gladsom Day is done: 
0 Glorious Sun! imagine me the West, 
Shine in my Arms, and set thou in my Breast. 

When Neptune riding on the Southerne seas 
Shall from the bosome of his Lemman yeeld 
Th' arcadian wonder, men and Gods to please : 
Plentie in pride shall match amidst the field, 
Dead men shall warre, and vnborne babes shall frowne, 5 
And with their fawchens hew their foemen downe. 
When Lambes haue Lions for their surest guide, 
And Planets test vpon th' arcadian hills: 
When swelling seas haue neither ebbe nor tide, 
When equall bankes the Ocean margine fills, m 
Then looke Arcadians for a happie time, 
And sweete content within your troubled clyme. 
xxnI 1'2 bower Iiitford: flower Q XXIV Q¢ z589, «6zo 


Some say Loue 
Foolish Loue 
Doth rule and goueme all the Gods, 
I say Loue, 
Inconstant Loue 
Sets mens senses farre at ods. 
Some sweare Loue 
Smooth'd face Loue 
Is sweetest sweete that men can haue: 
I say Loue, io 
Sower Loue 
Makes vertue yeeld as beauties slaue. 
A bitter sweete, a follie worst of all 
That forceth wisedome to be follies thrall 
Loue is sweete, i5 
Wherein sweete ? 
In fading pleasures that doo paine. 
Beautie sweete. 
Is that sweete 
That yeeldeth sorrow for a gaine ? 20 
If Loues sweete, 
Heerein sweete 
That Minutes ioyes are monthlie woes. 
Tis hOt sweete, 
That is sweete 25 
Nowhere, but where repentance growes. 
Then loue who list if beautie be so sower: 
Labour for me, Loue rest in Princes bower. 

Weepe not my wanton stalle vpon my knee, 
When thou art olde ther's griefe inough for thee. 
Mothers wagge, pretie boy, 
Fathers sorrow, fathers ioy. 
XXV Qq U89, x6æo 12 vertues Q 2620 17 faine Q 2620 
XXVI Qq 1589, x6æo 

When thy father first did see 
Such a boy by him and mee, 
He was glad, I was woe, 
Fortune changde ruade him so, 
When he left his pretie boy, 
Last his sorrowe, first his ioy. 
Weepe hOt my wanton smile vpon my knee: 
When thou art olde ther's griefe inough for thee. 
Streaming teares that neuer stint, 
Like pearle drops from a flint 
Fell by course from his eyes, 
That one anothers place supplies: 
Thus he grieud in euerie part, 
Teares of bloud fell from his hart, 
When he left his pretie boy, 
Fathers sorrow, fathers ioy. 
Weepe hOt my wanton smile vpon my knee: 
When thou art olde ther's griefe inough for thee. 
The wanton smilde, father wept: 
Mother cride, babie lept: 
More he crowde, more we cride; 
Nature could not sorowe hide. 
He must goe, he must kisse 
Childe and mother, babie blisse: 
For he left his pretie boy, 
Fathers sorowe, fathers ioy, 
Weepe not my wanton smile vpon my knee: 
When thou art olde ther's griefe inough for thee. 
When tender ewes brought home with euening Sunne 
Wend to their foldes, 
And to their holdes 
The shepheards trudge when light of daye is done. 
Vpon a tree 
The Eagle Ioues faire bird did pearch, 
There resteth hee. 
A little flie his harbor then did search, 
XXVII Qq I89, 1610 



And did presume (though others laught there at) 
To pearch whereas the princelie Eagle sat. 
The Eagle frowtad, and shooke ber royall wings, 
And chargde the Flie 
From thence to hie. 
Afraid in hast the little creature flings, 
Yet seekes againe 
Fearfull to pearke him by the Eagles side, 
With moodie vaine 
The speedie post of Ganimede replide; 
Vassaile auant or with my wings you die, 
Ist fit an Eagle seate him with a Flie? 
The :Flie craude pitie, still the Eagle frowtade, 
The sillie :Flie 
Readie to die 
Disgracte, displacte, fell groueling to the ground. 
The Eagle sawe 
And with a royall minde said to the Flie, 
Be not in awe, 
I scorne by me the meanest creature die; 
Then seate thee heere: the ioyfull :Flie vp flings, 
And sate safe shadowed with the Eagles wings. 


Like to Diana in her Summer weede 
Girt with a crimson roabe of brightest die, 
goes faire Samela. 
Whiter than be the flockes that straggling feede, 
When washt by Arethusa's Fount they lie: 
is faire Samela. 
As faire Aurora in her morning gray 
Deckt with the ruddie glister of her loue, 
is faire Samela. 
Like louelie Thetis on a calmed day, 
When as her brightnesse Neptunes fancie moue, 
shines faire Samela. 
XXVII 11 her] his Q 61o 
Fount Valker: Arethtisa faint (¢ 


XXVIII ¢ x589, «61o 5 Arethusa's 


Her tresses gold, her eyes like glassie streames, 
Her teeth are pearle, the breasts are yuorie 
of faire Samela. 
Her cheekes like rose and lilly yeeld foorth gleames, 
Her browes bright arches framde of ebonie : 
Thus faire Samela. 
Passeth faire Venus in her brauest hiew, 
And Iuno in the shew of maiestie, 
for she's Samela. 
Pallas in wit, all three if you well view, 
For beautie, wit, and matchlesse dignitie 
yeeld to Samela. 





Through the shrubbes as I can cracke, 
For my Lambes little ones, 
Mongst many pretie ones, 
Nimphes I meane, whose haire was blacke 
As the crow: 
Like the snow 
Her face and browes shinde I weene: 
I saw a little one, 
A bonny prety one, 
As bright, buxsome and as sheene 
As vas shee. 
On hir knee 
That lulld the God, 'hose arrov¢es warmes 
Such merry little ones, 
Such faire fac'd prety ones, 
As dally in Loues chiefest harmes, 
Such was naine: 
Whose gray eyne 
Made me loue. I gan to woo 
This sweete little one, 
This bonny pretie one. 




XXIX Qq U89, r6ro , 8 little . . . pretie] pretty . . . little Q r6ro 
7 shine Q z6ro 


I wooed hard a day or two, 
Till she bad: 
le not sad, 
Wooe no more I ana thine owne, 
Thy dearest little one, 
Thy truest pretie one: 
Thus was faith and firme loue showne, 
As behoues 
Shepheards loues. 



What are my sheepe without their wonted food ? 
What is my lire except I gaine my Loue? 
My sheepe consume and faint for want of blood. 
M t' life is lost vnlesse I grace approue. 
No flower that saplesse thriues: 
No turtle without pheare. 
The day without the Sunne dooth lowre for woe, 
Then woe naine eyes vnlesse they beautie see ; 
My Sunne Samelaes eyes, by whom I know 
Wherein delight consists, where pleasures be, 
Nought more the heart reuiues 
Than to imbrace his deare. 

The starres from earthly humors gaine their light, 
Out humors by their light possesse their power: 
Samelaes eyes fedde by my weeping sight, 
Insues my paine or ioyes by smile, or lower. 
So wends the source of loue. 
It feedes, it failes, it ends. 
Kinde lookes cleare to your ioy behold her eyes, 
Admire her heart, desire to taste her kisses ; 
In them the heauen of ioy and solace lies, 
Without them euery hope his succour misses, 
Oh how I loue to prooue. 
Wheretoo this solace tends. 
XXX t2¢ -.I89, z6zo  is oto. Q 6.o 16 Infudes Q .6zo 



You restlesse cares companions of the night, 
That wrap my ioyes in folds of endlesse woes: 
Tyre on my heart, and wound it with your spight, 
Since Loue and Fortune proues my equall foes. 
Farewell my hopes, farewell my happie daies: 5 
Welcome sweete griefe, the subiect of my laies. 
Mourne heauens, mourne earth, your shepheard is forlorne; 
Moume times and houres since bale inuades my bowre: 
Curse euerie tongue the place where I was borne, 
Curse euerie thought the life which makes me lowre. o 
Farewell my hopes, farewell my happie daies, 
Welcome sweete griefe the subiect of my laies. 
Was I not free? was I not fancies aime? 
Framde not desire my face to front disdaine? 
I was; she did: but now one silly maime i5 
Makes me to droope as he whom loue hath slaine. 
Farewell my hopes, farewell my happie daies, 
Welcome sweete griefe the subiect of my layes. 
Yet drooping, and yet liuing to this death, 
I sigh, I sue for pitie at her shrine, 2o 
Whose fierie eyes exhale my vitall breath, 
And make my flockes with parching heate to pine. 
Farewell my hopes, farewell my happie daies, 
Welcome sweete griefe the subiect of my layes. 
Fade they, die I, long may she liue to blisse 2s 
That feedes a wanton tire with fuell of her forme, 
And makes perpetuall summer where shee is; 
Whiles I doo crie oretooke with enuies storme, 
Farewell my hopes, farewell my happie daies: 
Welcome sweete griefe, the subiect of my laies. 3o 
Faire fields proud Floras vaunt, why is't you smile 
when as I languish ? 
xxxI @ 2.rsg, 26«o XXXII Qq «589, 2620 



You golden meads, why striue you to beguile 
my weeping anguish ? 
I liue to sorrow, you to pleasure spring: 
why doo you spring thus? 
What will not Boreas tempests wrathfull king 
take some pitie on vs? 
And send foorth Winter in hir rustie weede, 
to waile my bemonings ; xo 
Whiles I distrest doo tune my countrey reede 
vnto my gronings. 
But heauen, and earth, time, place, and euerie power 
haue with ber conspired 
"Fo turne my blisse full sweetes to baie full sower, 
Since fond I desired 
The heŒEuen whereto my thoughts may not aspire: 
ay me vnhappie. 
It was my fault and imbrace my bane the tire 
that forceth me die. 20 
Mine be the paine, but hirs the cruell cause 
of this strange torment: 
Wherefore no rime my banning praiers shall pause, 
till proud she repent. 

Too weake the wit, too slender is the braine 
That meanes to marke the power and worth of loue; 
Not one that liues (except he hap to proue) 
Can tell the sweete, or tell the secret paine. 
Yet I that haue been prentice to the griefe, 
Like to the cunning sea-man from a farre, 
13y gesse wîll take the beautie of that starre, 
Whose influence must yeeld the chiefe reliefe. 
You censors of the glorie of my deare, 
With reuerence and lowlie bent of knee, 
Attend and marke what her perfections bee: 
For in my words my fancies shall appeare. 
xxxII 10 waile Q r61o : waite Q r.f89 
' take Q r6ro : talke Q r589 


XXXIII Qq r.89, 16o 

Hir lockes are pleighted like the fleece of wooll 
That Iason with his Gretian mates atchiude, 
As pure as golde, yet not from golde deriude; 
As full of sweetes, as sweete of sweetes is full. 
Her browes are pretie tables of conceate, 
Where Loue his records of delight dooth quoate, 
On them her dallying lockes doo daily floate 
As Loue full oft dooth feede vpon the baite, ao 
Her eyes, faire eyes, like to the purest lights 
That animate the Sunne, or cheere the day, 
In whom the shining Sun-beames brightly play 
Whiles rancie doOth on them diuine delights. 
Hir cheekes like ripened lillies steept in wine, 
Or faire pomegranade kernels washt in milke, 
Or snow white threds in nets of crimson silke, 
Or gorgeous cloudes vpon the Sunnes decline. 
Her lips are roses ouerwasht with dew, 
Or like the purple of Narcissus flower: 
No frost their faire, no winde doth wast their power, 
But by her breath her beauties doo renew. 
Hir christall chin like to the purest molde, 
Enchac'de with daintie daysies soft and white, 
Where fancies faire pauilion once is pight, 
Whereas imbrac'de his beauties he doth holde. 
Hir necke like to an yuorie shining tower 
Where through with azure veynes sweete Nectar runnes, 
Or like the downe of swannes where Senesse woons, 
Or like delight that doth it selfe deuoure. 40 
Hir pappes are like faire apples in the prime, 
As round as orient pearles, as sort as downe: 
They neuer varie their faire through winters frowne, 
But from their sweetes Loue suckt his summer time. 
Hir bodie beauties best esteemed bowre, 45 
Delicious, comely, daintie, without staine: 
The thought whereof (not touch) hath wrought my paine. 
Whose faire, ail faire and beauties doth deuoure, 
22 cleare Q 1610 99 like Q 1610 4 daintiest Q 1610 
wonnes Q 161o : .ngland's _Parn. omits last three words 
47 toucht Q 161o 

45 bodies Q 161o 

Hir maiden mount, the dwelling house of pleasure; 
Not like, for why no like surpasseth wonder: 
O blest is he may bring such beauties vnder, 
Or search by sure the secrets of that treasure. 
Deuourd in thought, how wanders my deuice 
What rests behind I must deuine vpon? 
Who ta|kes the best, can say but fairer none: 
Few words well coucht doo most content the wise. 
All you that heare; let hOt my sillie stile 
Condenme my zeale: for what my tongue should say 
Serues to inforce my thoughts to seeke the way 
Whereby my woes and cares I doo beguile. 
Selde speaketh Loue, but sighs his secret paines ; 
Teares are his truceman, words doo make him tremble. 
How sweete is loue to them that can dissemble 
In thoughts and lookes, till they haue reapt the gaines, 
Alonely I complaine, and what I say 
I thinke, yet what I thinke tongue cannot tell: 
Sweete censors take my silly worst for well: 
My faith is firme, though homely be my laye. 

What neede compare where sweete exceedes compare ? 
Who drawes his thoughts of loue from senselesse things, 
Their pompe and greatest glories doth impaire, 
And mounts Loues heauen with ouer leaden wings. 
Stones, hearbes and flowers, the foolish spoyles of earth, 
Flouds, mettalls, colours, dalliance of the eye: 
These shew conceipt is staind with too much dearth: 
Such abstract fond compares make cunning die. 
But he that hath the feeling taste of Loue 
I)eriues his essence from no earthlie toy ; 
A weake conceipt his power cannot approue, 
For earthly thoughts are subiect to annoy. 
XXXIII 65 complaine] ara plaine Qq XXXIV Q¢ i.$89, 161o 
Q 16ro 







Be whist, be still, be silent Censers now ; 
My fellow swaine has tolde a pretie tale 
Which moderne Poets may perhaps allow, 15 
Yet I condemne the tearmes ; for they are stale. 
Apollo when my Mistres first was borne 
Ct off his lockes, and left them on hir head, 
And said; I plant these wires in Natures scome, 
Whose beauties shall appeare when Time is dead. o 
From foorth the christall heauen when she was made, 
The puritie thereof did taint hir brow: 
On which the glistering Sunne that sought the shade 
Gan set, and there his glories doth auow, 
Those eyes, faire eyes, too faire to be describde, . 
Were those that earst the chaos did reforme: 
To whom the heauen their beauties haue ascribde, 
That fashion lire in man, in beast, in worme. 
When first hir faire delicious cheekes were wrought, 
.A_urora brought hir blush, the Moone hir white: 3o 
Both so combinde as passed Natures thought, 
Compilde those pretie orbes of sweete delight. 
When Loue and Nature once were proud with play, 
From both their lips hir lips the corall drew: 
On them doth fancy sleepe, and euerie day 35 
Doth swallow ioy such sweete delights to view. 
Whilome while Venus Sonne did seeke a bowre 
To sport with Psyche h{s desired deare, 
He chose her chinne; and from that happie stowre 
He neuer stints in glorie to appeare. 4o 
Desires and Ioyes that long had serued Loue, 
]3esought a Holde where pretie eyes might woo them: 
Loue ruade her neeke, and for their best behoue 
Hath shut them there, whence no man can vndoo them. 
Once Venus dreamt vpon two pretie things, 4 
Hir thoughts they were affections chiefest neasts: 
She suckt and sightht, and bathde hir in the springs, 
_And when she wakt they were my Mistres breasts. 
20 beautie Q 161o OEî" heauens Q 1610 88 Psiches Qq 


Once Cupide sought a holde to couch his kisses, 
And found the bodie of my best beloude. 
Wherein he closde the beautie of his blisses, 
And from that bower can neuer be remoude. 
The graces earst, when Acidalian springs 
Were waxen drie, perhaps did finde hir fountaine 
Within the vale of blisse, where cupides wings 
Doo shield the Nectar fleeting from the mountaine. 
No more fond man: things infinite I see 
Brooke no dimension: Hell a footish speech ; 
For endles things may neuer talked be. 
Then let me liue to honor and beseech. 
Sweete natures pompe, if my deficient phraze 
Hath staind thy glories by too little skill, 
Yeeld pardon though naine eye that long did gaze, 
Hath left no better patterne to my quill. 
I will no more, no more will I detaine 
¥our listning eares witb dallyance of my tongue: 
I speake my ioyes; but yet conceale my paine ; 
My paine too olde, although my yeres be yong. 





Sit downe Carmela here are cobs for kings, 
Slowes blacke as ieat, or like my Christmas shooes, 
Sweete Sidar which my leathren bottle brings: 
Sit downe Carmela let me kisse thy toes. 
Ah Doron, ah my heart, thou art as white, 
As is my mothers Calfe or brinded Cow, 
Thine eyes are like the glow-wormes in the night, 
Thine haires resemble thickest of the SHOW. 
The lines within thy face are deepe and cleere 
Like to the furrowes of my fathers waine, 
Thy sweate vpon thy face dooth oft appeare 
Like to my mothers fat and kitchin gaine. 
XXXIV 53 Alcidelian Q x.f8 9 : Alcedelion Q 6o 
t6o 1 cub[b]s Q¢ 7 Slow-wormes Q¢ 


xxxv Q« 

Ah ]eaue my toe and kisse my lippes my loue, 
My lippes and thine, for I haue giuen them thee: 
Within thy cap tis thou shalt weare my gloue, 
At foote ball sport thou shalt my champion be. 
Crmela deare, euen as the golden ball 
That Venus got, such are thy goodly eyes, 
When cherries iuice is iumbled therewithall, 
Thy breath is like the steeme of apple pies. 
Thy lippes resemble two Cwcumbers faire, 
Thy teeth like to the tuskes of fattest swine, 
Thy speach is like the thunder in the aire: 
Would God thy toes, thy lips and all were mine. 
Doron what thing dooth mooue this wishing griefe. 
Tis Loue Carmela ah ris cruell Loue. 
That like a slaue, and caitiffe villaine thiefe, 
Hath cut my throate of ioy for thy behoue. 
Where was he borne ? 
In faith I know not where. 
But I haue heard much talking of his dart. 
Ay me poore man, with manie a trampling teare, 
I feele him wound the forehorse of my heart, 
What doo I loue? 0 no, I doo but talke. 
What shall I die for loue? 0 no, hOt so. 
What am I dead? 0 no my tongue dooth walke. 
Corne kisse Carmela, and confound my woe. 
Euen with this kisse, as once my father did, 
I seale the sweete indentures of delight: 
Before I breake my vowe the Gods forbid, 
No not by day, nor yet by darkesome night. 
14 them] it ( 589 81 heard] had Q 2589 
33 forehorse 29yce: forehearse Q 






2 trickling Q ,6to 


Euen with this garland ruade of Holly-hocks 
crosse tby browes from euerie shepbeerds kisse. 
Heigh boe bow glad ara I to touch thy lockes, 
My frolicke heart euen now " free man is. 
thanke you Doron, and will thinke on you, 
loue you Doron, and will winke on you. 
seale your charter partent with my thummes, 
Come kisse and part for feare my mother comes. 


What thing is Loue? It is a power diuine 
That raines in vs: or else a wreakefull law 
That doomes out mindes to beautie to encline: 
It is a starre whose influence dooth draw 
Our hearts to Loue dissembling of his might, 
Till he be toaster of our hearts and sight. 
Loue is a discord and a strange diuorce 
Betwixt our sense and reason, by whose power 
As madde with reason we admit that force, 
Which wit or labour neuer may deuoure, 
It is a will that brooketh no consent: 
It would refuse, yet neuer may repent. 
Loue's a desire, which for to waite a rime, 
Dooth loose an age of yeeres, and so doth passe 
As dooth the shadow seuerd from his prime, 
Seeming as though it were, yet neuer was. 
Leauing behinde nougbt but repentant thoughts 
Of daies ill spent, for that which profits noughts. 
Tis now a peace, and tben a sodaine warre, 
A hope consumde belote it is conceiude, 
At hand it feares, and menaceth a farre, 
And he that gaines is most of all deceiude: 
It is a secret hidden and not knowne, 
Which one may better feele than write vpon. 
XXXV 48 chapter Q 6o 




Tune on my pipe the praises of my Loue, 
And midst thy oaten harmonie recount 
How faire she is that makes thy musicke mount, 
And euerie string of thy hearts harpe to moue. 
Shall I compare her forme vnto the spheare s 
Whence Sun-bright Venus vaunts her siluer shine? 
Ah more than that by iust compare is thine, 
Whose christall lookes the cloudie heauens doe cleare. 
How oft haue I descending Titan seene 
His burning lockes couch in the Sea-queenes lap, o 
And beauteous Thetis his red bodie wrap 
In watrie roabes, as he her Lord had been. 
When as my Nimph impatient of the night 
Bad bright Astraeus with his traine giue place, 
Whiles she led foorth the day with her faire face, 5 
And lent each starre a more than Delian light. 
Not Ioue or Nature should they both agree 
To make a woman of the Firmament, 
Of his mixt puritie could hot inuent 
A Skie borne forme so beautifull as she. 2o 

Wherefore by an aundent toet were writtei these verses. 
When Gods had framd the sweete of womens face, 
and lockt mens lookes within their golden haire: 
That Phoebus flusht to see their matchles grace, 
and heauenly Gods on earth did make repaire 
To quippe faire Venus ouerweening pride 
Loues happie thoughts to ielousie were ride. 
Then grew a wrinkle on faire Venus browe, 
The amber sweete of loue was turnd to gall: 
XXXVII Q¢ z589, z6zo 14 Astraeus Dyce: Atr(a)eus Q¢ 
Qq z589, 597, z6°5 8 was] is Qq z597, 6o5 




Gloomie was heauen: bright Phoebus did auowe 
He could be coy and would not loue at ail, 
Swering no greater mlschiefe could be wrought 
Then loue vnited to a ielous thought. 



Vita quae tandem magis est iucunda, 
Vel viris doctis magis expetenda, 
Mente quam pura sociam iugalem, 
Semper amare ? 

Vita quae tandem magis est dolenda, 
Vel magis cunctis fugienda, quam quae, 
(Falso suspecta probitate amicae) 
Tollit amorem ? 

Nulla eam tollit medicina pestem, 
Murmur, emplastrum, vel imago sagae, 
Astra nec curant, magicae nec artes, 


Mars in a fury gainst loues brightest Queene 
Put on his helme and tooke him to his launce: 
On Erecynus mount was Mauors seene, 
And there his ensignes did the god aduance. 
And by heauens greatest gates he stowtly swore, 
Venus should die for she had wrongd him sore. 
Cupid heard this and he began to cry, 
And wisht his mothers absence for a while: 
Peace, foole, quoth Venus, is it I must die? 
Must it be Mars? with that she coind a stalle: 
She trimd hir tresses and did curle hir haire, 
And ruade hir face with beautie passing faire. 


XXXIX Qq 2589, 2597, «6os 1 quo Q 2.89 8 ingalem Q 2589 
eurrant Q U89 XL Qq U89, *'597, .t6o5 


• 6 5 

A fan of siluer feathers in hir hand, 
And in a coach of Ebony she went: 
She past the place where furious Mars did stand, 
And out hir lookes a louely stalle she sent, 
Then from hir browes lept out so sharpe a frowne, 
That Mars for feare threwe all his armour downe. 
He vowd repentance for his rash misdeede, 
Blaming his choller that had causd his woe: 
Venus grew gratious, and with him agred, 
But chargd him not to threaten beautie so, 
For womens lookes are such inchaunting charmes, 
As can subdue the greatest god in armes. 


Qualis in aurora splendescit lumine Titan, 
Talis in eximio corpore forma fuit: 
XI.I Qq z589, .f97, i6o5 1 make Q I589 : makes Q z597 4 Daphne 
.Dy«e : Daphnis )¢ XLII )¢ I589, U97, I6°5 

Fond faining poets make of loue a god, 
And leaue the Lawrell for the myrtle boughes: 
When Cupià is a chilà not past the roà, 
_And faire Diana Daphne most allowes. 
Ile weare the bayes and call the wag a boy,  
And thinke of loue but as a foolish toy. 
Some giue him bowe and quiuer at his backe, 
Some make him blinde to aime without aduise: 
When naked wretch such feathered bolts he lacke, 
And sight he hath but cannot wrong the wise. o 
For vse but labours weapon for defence, 
And Cupid like a Coward flieth thence. 
He is god in Court but cottage cals him childe, 
And Vestas virgins with their holy rires 
Doe cleanse the thoughtes that fancie hath defild, . 
And burnes the pallace of his fonde desires. 
With chast disdain they scorne the foolish god; 
And prooue him but a boy not past the rod. 


Lumina seu spectes radiantia, siue capillos, 
Lux Ariadne tua et lux tua, Phoebe lacet. 
Venustata fuit verbis, spirabat odorem, 
Musica vox, nardus, spiritus almus erat: 
Rubea labra, genae rubrae, faciesque decora, 
In qua concertant lilius arque rosa, 
Luxuriant geminae formoso in pectore mammae, 
Circundant niueae candida colla comae: 
Denique talis erat diuina Terentia, quales 
Quondam certantes, Iuno, Minerua, Venus. 
Thuxin English. 
Brightsome Apollo in his richest pompe, 
Was hot like to the tramels of hir haire: 
Her eies like Ariadnes sparkling starres, 
Shone from the Ebon Arches of hir browes. 
Hir face was like the blushing of the east, 
When Titan chargde the morning Sun to rise: 
Hir cheeks rich strewd with roses and with white, 
Did stayne the glorie of Anchises loue. 
Hir siluer teates did ebbe and flow delight, 
Hir necke columme of polisht Iuory. 
Hir breath was perfume ruade of violets, 
And all this heauen was but Terentia. 

Walking in a valley greene, 
Spred with Flora summer queene: 
Where shee heaping all hir graces, 
Niggard seemd in other places. 
Spring it was and here did spring, 
All that nature forth can bring: 
Groues of pleasant trees there grow, 
Which fruite and shadowe could bestow. 
Thick leaued boughes small birds couer, 
Till sweete notes themselues discouer: 
Tunes for number seemd confounded, 
XLII 10 colummes Qf 
2 Spied Q .$8 9 



11 perfunes Qq XLIII Qq z589, z97, x6os 


Whilst their mixtures musickes sounded, 
Greeing well, yet not agreed, 
That one the other shoulde exceede. 
A swete streame here silent glides, 
Whose cleare water no fish hides. 
Slow it runes which well bewraid, 
The pleasant shore the current staid: 
In this streame a rock was planted, 
Where no art nor nature wanted. 
Each thing so did other grace, 
As all places maye giue place. 
Onely this the place of pleasure, 
Where is heaped nature's treasure. 
Heere mine eyes with woonder staid, 
Eies amasd and minde afraid: 
Rauisht with what was beheld, 
From departing were withheld. 
Musing then with sound aduise, 
On this earthly paradise: 
Sitting by the riuer side 
Louely Phillis was discrid: 
Golde hir haire, bright ber eyen, 
Like to Phoebus in his shine. 
White hir brow, hir face was faire. 
Amber breath perfumde the aire. 
Rose and Lilly both did seeke, 
To shew their glories on hir cheeke. 
Loue did nestle in hir lookes. 
]3aiting there his sharpest hookes. 
Such a Phillis nere was seene, 
More beautiful than Loues Queene. 
Doubt it was whose greater grace, 
Phillis beautie or the place. 
Hir coate was of scaflet red, 
All in pleates a mantle spred: 
Fringd with gold, a wreath of bowes, 
To checke the sunne from hir browes. 
In hir hand a shepheards hooke, 
In hir face Dianas looke : 
24 natuers Q Ij97 







Hir sheepe grased on the plaines, 
She had stolne from the swaines. 
Vnder a coole silent shade, 
By the streames shee garlands ruade. 
Thus sat Phillis ail alone, 
Mist shee was by Coridon: 
Chiefest swaine of all the rest, 
Louely Phyllis likt him best. 
His face was like Phoebus loue, 
His necke white as Venus Doue, 
A ruddie cheeke tilde with smiles, 
Such loue hath when he beguiles. 
His lookes browne, his eyes were gray, 
Like Titan in a summer day. 
A russet Iacket sleeues red, 
A blew bonnet on his hed: 
A cloake of gray fencst the raine, 
Thus tyred was this louely swaine. 
A shepheards hooke his dog ride, 
Bag and bottle by his side: 
Such was Paris shepheards say, 
When with Oenone he did play. 
From his flocke straide Coridon, 
Spying Phillis all alone: 
By the streame he Phillis spide, 
Brauer then was Floras pride, 
Downe the valley gan he tracke : 
Stole behinde his true loues backe: 
The sunne shone and shadow ruade 
Phillis rose and was afraid. 
When shee saw hir louer there, 
Stalle shee did and left hir feare: 
Cupid that disdaine doth loth, 
With desire stracke them both. 
The swaine did woe, she was nise, 
Following fashion nayed him twise: 
Much adooe hee kist hir then, 
Madens blush when they kisse men: 
So did Phillis at that stowre, 
I-tir face was like the rose flowre. 



Last they greed for loue would so, 
Faith and troth they would no mo. 
For shepheards euer held it sin, 
To false the loue they liued in, 
The swaine gaue a girdle red, 
Shee set garlandes on his hed. 
Gifles were giuen, they kisse againe, 
]3oth did stalle for both were faine: 
Thus was loue mongst shephards solde, 
When fancy knew not what was golde : 
They woed and vowed, and that they keep, 
And goe contented to their sheep. 




He that did sing the motions of the starres, 
Pale colour'd Phaebus borrowing of her light: 
Aspects of planets oft oppos'd in lattes, 
Of Hesper Henchmen to the day and night 
Sings now of Loue as taught by proofe to sing:  
Wolnen are false and loue a bitter thing. 
I lou'd Eurydice the brighest Lasse, 
More fond to like so faire a Nymph as she: 
In Thesaly, so bright none euer was, 
But faire and constant hardly may agree. o 
False harted wife to him that loued thee well: 
To leaue thy loue and choose the Prince of hell. 
Theseus did helpe, and I in hast did hie, 
To Pluto, for the Lasse I loued so: 
The God ruade graunt, and who so glad as I,  
I tunde my Harpe, and shee and I gan goe, 
Glad that my loue was left to me alone. 
I looked back, Eurydice was gone. 
She slipt aside backe to her latest loue, 
Vnkinde shee wrong'd her first and truest Feere, 2o 
Thus womens loues, delights as tryall proues, 
]3y false Eurydice I loued so deere. 
To change, and fleete, and euery way to shrinke, 
To take in loue, and lose it with a winke. 
XLIV ç **.I99 7, 18 Euridicae ç $fl Eurydycae Q 




Seated vpon the crooked Dolphins back, 
Scudding amidst the purple coloured waues : 
Gazing aloofe for ]_,and, Neptune in black, 
Attended with the Tritons as his slaues. 
Threw forth such stormes as made the ayre thick :  
For greefe his Lady Thetis was so sick. 
Such plaints he throbd as ruade the Dolphin stay, 
Women (quoth he) are harbours of mans health: 
Pleasures for night, and comforts for the day, 
What are faire women but rich natures wealth. o 
Thetis is such, and more if more may be: 
Thetis is sick, then what may comfort me ? 
Women are sweets that salue mens sowrest ills, 
Women are Saints, their vertues are so rare: 
Obedient soules that seeke to please mens wills,  
Such loue with faith, such Iewels women are. 
Thetis is such, and more if more may be: 
Thetis is sick, then what may comfort me ? 
With that he diu'd into the Corall waues, 
To see his loue, with all his watl 3, slaues, o 
The Dolphin swam, yet this I learned then: 
Faire women are rieh Iewells vnto men. 



Cupid abroade was lated in the night, 
His winges were wet with ranging in the raine, 
Harbour he sought, to mee hee tooke his flight, 
To dry his plumes I heard the boy complaine. 
I opte the doore, and graunted his desire, 
I rose my selfe, and made the wagge a tire. 


Looking more narrow by the fiers flame, 
I spied his quiuer hanging by his backe: 
Doubting the boy might my misfortune frame, 
I would haue gone for feare of further wrack. 
But what I drad, did me poore wretch betide: 
For forth he drew an arrow from his side. 
He pierst the quick, and I began to start, 
A pleasing vound but that it was too hie, 
H is shaft procurde a sharpe, yet sugred smart, 
Away he flewe, for why his winges were dry. 
But left the arrow sticking in my brest: 
That sore I greeude I welcomd such a guest. 

It was neere a thicky shade, 
That broad leaues of Beech had ruade: 
Ioyning all their tops so nie, 
That scarce Phoebus in could prie, 
To see if Louers in the thicke, 5 
Could dally with a wanton tricke. 
Where sate the swaine and his wife, 
Sporting in that pleasing life, 
That Coridon commendeth so, 
Ail other liues to ouer-go. 1o 
He and she did sit and keepe 
Flocks of kids, and fouldes of sheepe: 
He vpon his pipe did play, 
She tuned voice vnto his lay. 
And for you might her ttuswife knowe, 15 
¥oice did sing and fingers sowe: 
tte was young, his coat was greene, 
With welts of white, seamde betweene, 
Turned ouer with a flappe, 
That brest and bosome in did wrappe, 2o 
Skirts side and plighted free, 



Seemely hanging to his knee. 
A whittle with a siluer chape, 
Cloke was russet, and the cape 
Serued for a Bonnet oft, 
To shrowd him from the wet aloft. 
A leather scrip of colour red, 
With a button on the head, 
A bottle full of Country whigge, 
]3y the shepheards side did ligge: 
And in a little bush hard by, 
There the shepheards dogge did lye, 
Who while his Master gan to sleepe, 
Well could watch both kiddes and sheep. 
The shepheard was a frolicke Swaine, 
For though his pareil was but plaine, 
Yet doone the Authors soothly say, 
His colour was both fresh and gay: 
And in their writtes plaine discusse, 
Fairer was hOt Tytirus, 
Nor Menalcas whom they call 
The Alderleefest swaine of all. 
Seeming him was his wife, 
]3oth in line, and in life: 
Faire she was as faire might be, 
Like the Roses on the tree: 
]3uxsane, blieth, and young, I weene 
]3eautious, like a sommers Queene, 
For ber cheekes were ruddy hued, 
As if Lillies were imbrued, 
With drops of bloud to make thee white, 
Please the eye with more delight; 
Loue did lye within her eyes, 
In ambush for some wanton prize, 
A leefer Lasse then this had beene, 
Coridon had neuer seene. 
Nor was Phillis that faire May, 
Halfe so gawdy or so gay: 
She wore a chaplet on her head, 
Her cassocke was of scarlet red, 
Long and large as streight as bent, 



Her middle was both small and gent. 
A necke as white as whales bone, 
Compast with a lace of stone, 
Fine she was and faire she was, 
]3righter then the brightest glasse. 
Such a Shepheards wife as she, 
Was hot more in Thessaly. 

Ah what is loue ? It is a pretty thing, 
As sweet vnto a shepheard as a king, 
And sweeter too: 
For kings haue tares that waite vpon a Crowne, 
And tares tan make the sweetest loue to frowne: 
Ah then, ah then, 
If countrie loues such sweet desires do gaine, 
What Lady would not loue a Shepheard Swaine? 
His flockes are foulded, he cornes home at night, 
As merry as a king in his delight, 
And merrier too: 
For kings bethinke them what the state require, 
Where Shepheards carelesse Carroll by the tire. 
Ah then, ah then, 
If country loues such sweet desires gaine, 
What Lady would not loue a Shepheard Swaine. 
He kisseth first, then sits as blyth to eate 
His creame and curds, as doth the king his meate; 
And blyther too: 
For kings haue often feares when they do sup, 
Where Shepheards dread no poyson in their cup. 
Ah then, ah then, 
If country loues such sweet desires gaine, 
What Lady would not loue a Shepheard Swaine. 
To bed he goes, as wanton then I weene, 
As is a king in dalliance with a Queene; 
More wanton too: 
XLVIII Q r6,r6 
COLS. tf T 






For kings haue many griefes affects to moue, 
Where Shepheards haue no greater grief then loue: 
Ah then, ah then, 
If countrie loues such sweet desires gaine, 
What Lady would not loue a Shepheard Swaine. 
Vpon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound, 
As doth the king vpon his bed of downe, 
More sounder too : 35 
For cures cause kings full oft their sleepe to spill, 
Where weary Shepheards lye and snort their fill: 
Ah then, ah then, 
If country loues such sweet desires gaine, 
What Lady would not loue a Shepheard Swaine. 40 
Thus with his wife he spends the yeare as blyth, 
As doth the king at euery tyde or syth ; 
And blyther too: 
For kings haue warres and broyles to take in hand, 
Where Shepheards laugh, and loue vpon the land. 45 
Ah then, ah then, 
If Countrie loues such sweet desires gaine, 
What Lady would not loue a Shepheard Swaine? 

Oft haue I heard my liefe Coridon report on a loue-day, 
When bonny maides doe meete with the Swaines in the vally 
by Tempe, 
How bright eyd his Phillis was, how louely they glanced, 
When fro th' Aarches Eben black, flew lookes as a lightning, 
That set a tire with piercing flames euen heurts adamantine, 5 
Face Rose hued, Cherry red, with a siluer taint like a Lilly. 
Venus pride might abate, might abash with a blush to behold 
Phoebus wyers compar'd to her haires vnworthy the praysing. 
Iunoes state, and Pallas wit disgrac'd with the Graces, 
That grac'd her, whom poore Coridon did choose for a loue- 
mate : 1 o 
XLVIII 8-1 beds Q 45 Where l)yce : When Q XLIX Q 616 
Rosamundae l)yce : Rosamundi Q 

Ah, but had Coridon now seene the starre that Alexis 
Likes and loues so deare, that he melts to sighs when he 
sees her. 
Did Coridon but see those eyes, those amorous eye-lids, 
From whence fly holy flames of death or life in a moment, 
Ah, did he see that face, those haires that Venus, Apollo 5 
]3asht to behold, and both disgrac'd, did grieue, that a creature 
Should exceed in hue, compare both a god and a goddesse: 
Ah, had he seene my sweet Paramour the Saint of Alexis, 
Then had he sayd, Phillis, sit downe surpassed in ail points, 
For there is one more faire then thou, beloued of Alexis. 2o 

Tempe the groue where darke Hecate doth keep her abiding: 
Tempe the groue where poor Rosamond bewails her Alexis, 
Let hot a tree nor a shrub be greene to shew thy reioycing; 
Let hot a leafe once decke thy boughes and branches, O Tempe, 
Let not a bird record her tunes, nor chaunt any sweet Notes, 5 
But Philomele, let her bewayle the losse of her amours, 
And fill ail the wood with dolefull tunes to bemone ber, 
Parched leaues fill euery Spring, fill euery Fountaine, 
All the meades in mourning weede fit them to lamenting. 
Eccho sit and sing despaire i' the Vallies, i' the Mountaines ; o 
Ail Thessaly helpe poore ,osamond mournfull to bemone her: 
For she's quite bereft of her loue, and leff of Alexis, 
Once was she lik'd, and once was she loued of wanton Alexis: 
Now is she loathed, and now is she left of trothlesse Alexis. 
Here did he clip and kisse Rosamond, and vowe by Diana : 15 
None so deare to the Swaine as I, nor none so belcued, 
Here did he deepely sweare, and call great l'an for a witnesse, 
That Rosamond v«as onely the Rose belou'd of Alexis, 
That Thessaly had hot such an other Nymph to delight him: 
None (quoth he) but Venus faire shall haue any kisses. .o 
Not Phillis, were œehillis aliue should haue any fauours, 
Nor Galate, Galate so faire for beautious eyebrowes, 
Nor Doris that Lasse that drewe the Swaines to behold her: 
XL]X 18 Saint .Dyte : taint (2 L Q 2626 
T 2 

Not one amongst all these, nor all should gaine any graces, 
But Rosamond alone to her selle should haue her Alexis. 25 
Now to reuenge the periurde vowes of faitblesse Alexis, 
Pan, great Pan, that heardst his othes, and mighty Diana, 
You Dryades and watry Nymphs that sport by the Fountaines : 
Fair Tempe the gladsome groue of greatest Apollo, 
Shrubs, and dales, and neighbouring hils, that heard when he 
swore him, 30 
Witnes all, and seeke to reuenge the wrongs of a ¥irgin, 
Had any Swaine been liefe to me but guilefull Alexis, 
Had Rosamond twinde Myrtle boughes, or Rosemary branches, 
Sweet Holihocke, or else Daffadill, or slips of a Bay tree, 
And giuen them for a gift to any Swaine but Alexis: . 
Well had Alexis done t' haue left his rose for a giglot. 
But Galate nere lou'd more deare her louely Menalcas 
Then Rosamond did dearely loue ber trothlesse Alexis. 
Endimion was nere beloued of his Citherea, 
Halfe so deare as tme Rosamond beloued her Alexis, 40 
Now seely Lasse, hie downe to the lake, haste downe to the 
And with those forsaken twigs go make thee a Chaplet, 
Mournfull sit, and sigh by the springs, by the brookes, by the 
Till thou turne for griefe, as did Niobe to a Marble, 
Melt to teares, poure out thy plaints, let Eccho reclame them, 45 
How Rosamond that loued so deare is left of Alexis, 
Now dye, dye Rosamond, let men ingraue o' thy toombe-stone 
Here lyes she that loued so deare the ¥oungster Alexis, 
Once beloued, forsaken late of fnithlesse Alexis: 
Yet Rosamond did dye for loue false hearted Alexis. o 

When merry Autumne in her prime, 
Fruitfull mother of swift time, 
Had filled Ceres lappe with store 
Of Vines and Corne, and mickle more, 
LI Q. z6z6 



Such needfull fruites as do growe 
From Terras bosome here belowe, 
Tytirus did sigh and see 
With hearts griefe and eyes greee, 
Eyes and heart both full of woes 
Where Galate his louer goes, 
Her mantle was vermillion red, 
A gawdy Chaplet on her head, 
A Chaplet that did shrowd the beames, 
That Phoebus on her beauty streames 
For Sunne it selle desired to see 
So faire a Nymph as was shee; 
For, viewing from the East to West, 
Faire Galate did like him best: 
Her face was like to Welkins shine, 
Crystall brookes such were his eyne: 
And yet within those brookes were rires, 
That scorched youth and his desires. 
Galate did much impaire 
Venus honour for her faire. 
For stately stepping Iunoes pace, 
By Galate did take disgrace: 
And Pallas wisedome bare no prise, 
Where Galate would shew her wise. 
This gallant Girle thus passeth by 
Where Tityrus did sighing lye: 
Sighing sore for Loue straines 
More then sighes from Louers raines, 
Teares in eye, thought in heart, 
Thus his griefe he did impart. 
Faire Galate but glance thine eye, 
Here lyes he that here lnust dye: 
For loue is death, if loue hOt gaine 
Louers salue for Louers paine. 
Winters seuen and more are past, 
Since on thy face my thoughts I cast: 
When Galate did haunt the Plaines, 
And fed her sheepe amongst the Swaines: 
When euery shepheard left his flockes, 
To gaze on Galates faire lockes. 




When euery eye did stand at gaze: 
When heart and thought did both amaze, 
When heart from body would asunder, 
On Galates faire face to wonder: 
Then amongst them all did I 
Catch such a wound as I must dye 
If Galate off say hOt thus, 
I loue the shepheard Tityrus. 
Tis loue (faire nymph) that doth paine 
Tytirus thy truest Swaine; 
True, for none more true can be, 
Then still to loue, and none but thee. 
Say Galate, oft smile and say, 
Twere pitty loue should haue a nay: 
But such a word of comfort giue 
And Tytirus thy Loue shall liue 
Or with a piercing frowne reply 
I cannot liue, and then I dye, 
For Louers nay, is Louers death, 
_And heart breake frownes doth stop the breath. 
Galate at this arose, 
_And with a stalle away she goes, 
_As one that little carde to ease 
Tytir, pain'd with Loues disease. 
_At her parting, Tytirus 
Sighed amaine, and sayed thus: 
Oh that women are so faire, 
To trap mens eyes in their haire, 
With beauteous eyes Loues rires, 
Venus sparkes that heates desires : 
]3ut, oh that women haue such hearts, 
Such thoughts, and such deep piercing darts, 
_As in the beauty of their eye, 
t-Iarbor nought but flattery: 
Their teares are drawne that drop deceit, 
Their faces, Calends of all sleight, 
Their smiles are lutes, their lookes guile, 
_And all their loue is but a wyle. 
Then Tytir leaue leaue Tytirus 
To loue such as scornes you thus: 







And say to loue, and women both, 
lVhat I liked, now I do loath. 
With that he hyed him to the flockes, 
And counted loue but Venus mockes. 



The silent shade had shadowed euery tree, 
And Phoebus in the west was shrowded low: 
Ech hiue had home her busie laboring Bee, 
Ech bird the harbour of the night did knowe, 
Euen then, 
When thus : 
All things did from their weary labour linne, 
Menalcas sate and thought him of his sinne. 
His head on hand, his elbowe on hi knee, 
And teares, like dewe, be-drencht vpon his face, 
His face as sad as any swaines might bee: 
His thoughts and dumpes befitting wel the place. 
Euen then, 
When thus : 
Menalcas sate in passions all alone, 
He sighed then, and thus he gan to mone. 
I that fed flockes vpon Thessalia plaines 
And bad my lambs to feede on Daffadill, 
That liued on milke and curdes poore Shepheards gaines 
And merry sate, and pyp'd vpon a pleasant hill. 
Euen then, 
When thus : 
I sate secure and fear'd not fortunes ire, 
Mine eyes eclipst, fast blinded by desire. 
Then lofty thoughts began to lift my minde, 
I grudg'd and thought my fortune was too low, 




LII Q z6z6 


A shepheards life 'twas base and out of kinde, 
The tallest Cedars haue the fairest growe, 
Euen then, 
When thus : 
Pride did intend the sequell of my ruth, 
Began the faults and follies of my youth. 

I leff the fields, and tooke me to the Towne, 
Fould sheepe who list, the hooke was cast away, 
Menalcas would hot be a country Clowne, 
Nor Shepheards weeds, but garments far more gay. 
Euen then, 
When thus : 
Aspiring thoughts did follow after ruth, 
Began the faults and follies of my youth. 

My sutes were silke, my talke was all of State, 
I stretcht beyond the compasse of my sleeue, 
The brauest Courtier was Menalcas mate, 
Spend what I would, I neuer thought on griefe. 
Euen then, 
When thus : 
I lasht out lauish, then began my ruth, 
And then I felt the follies of my youth. 

I cast naine eye on euery wanton face, 
And straight desire did hale me on to loue, 
Then Louer-like, I pray'd for Venus grace, 
That she my mistris deepe affects might moue. 
Euen then, 
When thus : 
Loue trapt me in the fatall bands of ruth, 
Began the faults and follies of my youth. 

No cost I spar'd to please my mistris eye, 
No time ill spent in presence of her sight, 
Yet oft she frownd, and then ber loue must dye, 
But when she smyl'd, oh then a happy wight. 
Euen then, 
When thus : 


4 ° 


. she 2Pyce: we ç 


Desire did draw me on to deeme of ruth, 
Began the faults and follies of my youth. 

The day in poems often did I passe, 
The night in sighs and sorrowes for her grace, 
And she as fickle as the brittle glasse, 
Held Sun-shine showres within her flattering face. 
Euen then, 
When thus : 
I spy'd the woes that womens loues ensueth, 
I saw, and loath the follies of my youth. 

I noted oft that beauty was a blaze, 
I saw that loue was but a heape of cares, 
That such as stood as Deare do at the gaze, 
And sought their welth amongst affections snares. 
Euen such, 
I sawe, 
With hot pursuit did follow after ruth, 
And fostered vp the follies of their youth. 

Thus clogg'd with loue, with passions and with griefe, 
I saw the country lire had least molest, 
I felt a wound and faine would haue reliefe, 
And this resolu'd I thought would fall out best, 
Euen then, 
When thus : 
I felt my senses almost solde to ruth, 
I thought to leaue the follies of my youth, 

To flockes againe, away the wanton towne, 
Fond pride auaunt, giue me the shepheards hooke, 
A coate of gray, Ile be a country clowne: 
Mine eye shall scorne on beauty for to looke. 
No more, 
A doe : 
Both Pride and loue are euer pain'd with ruth, 
And therefore farewell the follies of my youth. 



9 ° 


76 snares Z?yce: thares Q 79 With Z?yce: Which Q 




An Ode. 
Downe the valley gan he tracke, 
13agge and bottle at his backe, 
In a surcoate all of gray, 
Such weare Palmers on the way, 
When with scrip and staffe they see 
Iesus graue on Caluarie, 
A hat of straw like a swaine, 
Shealter for the sonne and raine, 
With a Scollop shell before : 
Sandalls on his feete he wore, 
Legs were bare, armes vnclad, 
Such attire this Palmer had, 
His face faire like Titans shine, 
Gray and buxsome were his eyne, 
Whereout dropt pearles of sorrow: 
Such sweete teares Loue doth borrow, 
When in outward deawes he plaines, 
Harts distresse that Louers paines: 
Rubie lips, cherrie cheekes, 
Such rare mixture Venus seekes, 
When to keepe hir damsels quiet 
Beautie sets them downe their diet. 
Adon' was not thought more faire. 
Curled lockes of amber haire: 
Lockes where Loue did sit and twine 
Nets to snare the gazers eyne: 
Such a Palmer nere was seene, 
Lesse loue himselfe had Pahner been. 
Yet for all he was so quaint 
Sorrow did his visage taint. 
Midst the riches of his face, 
Griefe decyphred hie disgrace: 
Euerie step straind a teare, 
Sodaine sighes shewd his feare: 
LIII Qq U9 o, 6oo, 6o 7 1°. this] the Q 6o7 

17 he .Dyce : she Q¢ 





And yet his feare by his sight, 
Ended in a strange delight. 
That his passions did approue, 
Weedes and sorrow were for loue. 

Z'he -Pa[mers Ode. 
Olde Menalcas on a day, 
As in field this shepheard lay, 
Tuning of his oten pipe, 
Which he hit with manie a stripe; 
Said to Coridon that hee 
Once was yong and full of glee, 
Blithe and wanton was I then: 
Such desires follow men. 
As I lay and kept my sheepe, 
Came the God that hateth sleepe, 
Clad in armour all of tire, 
Hand in hand with Queene Desire: 
And with a dart that wounded nie, 
Pearst my heart as I did lie: 
That when I wooke I gan sweare, 
Phillis beautie palme did beare. 
Vp I start, foorth went I, 
With hir face to feede mine eye: 
Then I saw Desire sit, 
That my heart with Loue had hit, 
Laying foorth bright Beauties hookes. 
To intrap my gazing lookes. 
Loue I did and gan to woe; 
Pray and sigh, all would not doe: 
Women when they take the toy 
Couet to be counted coy. 
Coy she was, and I gan court, 
She thought Loue was but a sport. 
Profound Hell was in my thought, 
Such a paine Desire had wrought, 
LIV Qq 59 o, i6oo, i6o 7 13 nie] me Qq 6oo, 16o 7 
27 and] that Q 16o7 





3 ° 
20 had] did Q 16o7 


That I sued with sighes and teares, 
Still ingrate she stopt her eares, 
Till my youth I had spent, 
Last a passion of Repent, 
Tolde me fiat that Desire, 
Was a brond of Loues tire, 
Which consumeth men in thrall, 
Vertue, youth, wit, and all. 
At this sawe backe I start, 
Bet Desire from my hart, 
Shooke of Loue and ruade an oth, 
To be enemie to both. 
Olde I was when thus I fled, 
Such fond toyes as cloyde my head. 
But this I learn'd at Vertues gate, 
The way to good is neuer late. 
Nunquam sera est ad bonos mores via. 

Here looke my sonne for no vaine glorious shewes. 
Of royall apparition for the eye, 
Humble and meeke befitteth men of yeeres, 
]3ehold my cell built in a silent shade, 
Holding content for pouertie and peace, 
And in my lodge is fealtie and faith, 
Labour and loue vnited in one league. 
I want hOt, for my minde affordeth wealth; 
I know not enuie, for I climbe not hie: 
Thus do I liue, and thus I meane to die. 
If that the world presents illusions, 
Or sathan seekes to puffe me vp with pompe, 
As man is fraile and apt to follow pride: 
Then see my sonne where I haue in my cell, 
A dead mans scull, which cals this straight to mind, 
That as this is, so must my ending be. 
When then I see that earth to earth must passe, 
I sigh, and say, all flesh is like to grasse. 
LIV 46 good] God Qq 6oo, r6o7 LV Qq u9 o, r6oo, r6o7 






If care to liue, or sweete delight in lire, 
As man desires to sec out manie daies, 
Drawes me to listen to the flattering world: 
Then see my glasse which swiftly out doth runne, 
Comparde to man, who dies ere he begins. 
This tells me, rime slackes not his poasting course, 
But as the glasse runnes out with euerie hower, 
Some in their youth, some in their weakest age, 
Ail sure to die, but no man knowes his time. 
By this I thinke, how vaine a thing is man, 
Whose longest lire is likened to a span. 
When sathan seekes to sift me with his Mies, 
Or proudly dates to giue a tierce assault, 
To make a shipwracke of my faith with feares, 
Then armde at all points to withstand the foc 
With holy armour: heres the martiall sword: 
This booke, this bible, this two-edged blade, 
Whose sweete content pierceth the gates of hell: 
Decyphring lawes and discipline of warre, 
To ouerthrowe the strength of Sathans iarre. 






Sitting by a riuer side, 
Where a silent streame did glide, 
Banckt about with choice of flowers, 
Such as spring from Aprill showers, 
When fait Iris smiling sheaws. 
AIl her riches in her dewes, 
Thicke leaued trees so were planted, 
As nor arte nor nature wanted, 
Bordring all the broke with shade, 
As if Venus there had ruade 
By Floraes wile a curious bowre, 
To dally with her paramoure. 
At this current as I gazd, 
Eies intrapt, mind amazde, 
LV 25 the] a  z6o7 80 seekes oto. œe t6o 7 
z6o 7 1 Riuers Qf x6oo, x6o 7 


LVI ç¢ 59 o, z6oo» 
8 nor-I hOt (¢ 6oo, zo 7 


I might see in my ken, 
Such a flame as fireth men, 
Such a fier as doth frie, 
With one blaze both heart and eie, 
Such a heate as dooth proue 
No heate like to the heate of loue. 
]3right she was, for twas a she, 
That tracde hir steps towards me: 
On her head she ware a bay, 
To fence Phoebus light away: 
In her face one might descrie 
The curious beauty of the skie, 
Her eies carried darts of fier, 
Feathred all with swift desier, 
Yet foorth these fierie darts did passe 
Pearled teares as bright as glasse, 
That wonder 'twas in her eine 
Fire and water should combine: 
If th' old sawe did hot borrow, 
Fier is loue, and water sorrow: 
Downe she sate, pale and sad, 
No mirth in her lookes she had, 
Face and eies shewd distresse, 
Inward sighes discourst no lesse: 
Head on hand might I see, 
Elbow leaned on hir knee, 
Last she breathed out this saw, 
Oh that loue hath no law. 
Loue inforceth with constraint, 
Loue delighteth in complaint ; 
Who so loues hates his lire: 
For loues peace is mindes strife. 
Loue doth feede on beauties fare, 
Euerie dish sawst with care: 
Chiefly women, reason why, 
Loue is hatcht in their eye: 
T hence it steppeth to the hart, 
There it poysneth euerie part: 
Minde and heart, eye and thought, 
Till sweete loue their woes hath wrought. 



Then repentant they 'gin crie, 
Oh my heart that trowed mine eye. 
Thus she said and then she rose, 
Face and minde both full of woes: 
Flinging thence with this saw; 
Fie on loue that hath no law. 



When I looke about the place 
Where sorrow nurseth vp disgrace, 
Wrapt within a folde of tares, 
Whose distresse no heart spares: 
Eyes might looke, but sec no light, 
Heart might thinke but on despight, 
Sonne did shine, but not on me: 
Sorrow said it may hot be, 
That heart or eye should once possesse 
Anie salue to cure distresse: 
For men in prison must suppose 
Their couches are the beds of woes. 
Seeing this I sighed then, 
Fortune thus should punish men. 
]3ùt when I calde to minde her face 
For whose loue I brooke this place, 
Starrie eyes, whereat my sight, 
Did eclipse with much delight, 
Eyes that lighten and doo shine, 
]3eames of loue that are diuine, 
Lilly cheekes whereon beside 
]3uds of Roses shew their pride, 
Cherrie lips which did speake 
Words that ruade all hearts to breake : 
Words most sweete, for breath was sweete, 
Such perfume for loue is meete. 
Precious words, as hard to tell 
Which more pleased, wit or smell. 

LVI 55 'gin .Dyce: gan Qq 
.6o 7 26 perfumes Qq z6oo, .6o 7 



LVII Qq 59o, z6oo, 6o7 1 looked Q 


When I saw my greatest paines 
Grow for hir that beautie staines. 
Fortune thus I did reproue, 
Nothing grieuefull growes from loue. 



As then the Sun sate lordly in his pride, 
Not shadowed with the raie of any cloude : 
The Welkin had no racke that seemd to glide, 
No duskie vapour did bright Phoebus shroude: 
No blemish did eclipse the beauteous skie 
From setting foorth heauens secret searching eie, 
No blustring winde did shake the shadie trees, 
Each leafe lay still and silent in the wood, 
The birds were musicall, the labouring Bees 
That in the sommer heapes their winters good, 
Plied to the hiues sweet hony from those flowers, 
Whereout the serpent strengthens a]l his powers. 
The Iion laid and stretcht him in the lawnes, 
No storme did hold the Leopard fro his pray, 
The fallow fields were full of wanton fawnes, . 
The plough-swaines neuer saw a fairer day, 
For euery beast and bird did take delight 
To see the quiet heauens to shine so bright. 
When thus the windes lay sleeping in the caues, 
The ayre was silent in her concaue sphere, o 
And Neptune with a calme did please his slaues, 
Ready to wash the neuer drenched Beare: 
Then did the change of my affects begin ; 
And wanton loue assaid to snare me in. 
Leaning my backe against a loftie pine, 
Whose top did checke the pride of all the aire, 
Fixing my thoughts, and with my thoughts naine eine 
Vpon the Sunne, the fairest of all faire: 
What thing ruade God so faire as this, quoth I ? 
And thus I musde vntill I darkt naine eie. 

LVIII Q¢ u9 o, 6oo, 6o7 


Finding the Sunne too glorious for my sight, 
I glaunst my looke to shun so bright a lampe, 
With that appeard an obiect twice as bright, 
So gorgeous as my senses all were dampt. 
In Ida richer beautie did not win 35 
When louely Venus shewd her siluer skin. 
Her pace was like to Iunoes pompous straines, 
When as she sweeps through heuens brasse-paued way, 
Her front was powdred through with azurde raines, 
That twixt sweet Roses and faire lillies lay, 40 
Reflecting such a mixture from her face, 
As tainted Venus beautie with disgrace. 
Arctophylax the brightest of the stars 
Was hot so orient as her christall eies, 
Wherein triumphant sat both peace and wars, 45 
From out whose arches such sweete fauours flies, 
As might reclaime Mars in his highest rage, 
At beauties charge his fury to assuage. 
The Diamond gleames not more reflecting lights, 
Pointed with fiery pyramides to shine, o 
Than are those flames that burnish in out sights, 
Darting tire out the christall of her eine, 
Able to set Narcissus thoughts on fier, 
Although he swore him foe to sweete desier. 
Gazing vpon this lemman with naine eie, 5 
I felt my sight vaile bonnet to her |ookes, 
So deepe a passion to my heart did flie, 
As I was trapt within her hlring hookes, 
Forst to confesse before that I had done, 
Her beauty farre more brighter than the Sunne. 60 

Sweet #_don', darst not glaunce thine eye. 
I]/'oserez vous, mon bel amy ? 
Vpon thy Venus that must die, 
le vous en rie, pitie me: 
LVIII 33 appeare Q U9 o 43 Artophilex Q 159o: Artophilax Qq 16oo, 
16o 7 46 fauour Qq 2600, 16o 7 50 pointed 29yce: painted Qq 56 toi 
with Qq 16oo, 2607 ri8 hookes l?yce: lookes Qq LIX Qq 29o, 2600, 
16o 7 2 oseres Qq and so through the Song 

9 o 


N'oserez vous, mon bel, »ton bel, 
N'oserez vous, mon bel amy ? 
See how sad thy Venus lies, 
N'oserez vous, mou bel amy ? 
Loue in heart and teares in eyes, 
Ie vous en iOrie, pitie me : 
N'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel, 
N'oserez vous, mon bel amy ? 
Thy face as faire as Paphos brookes, 
£V'oserez vous, mon bel amy ? 
Wherein rancie baites her hookes, 
Ie vous en iOrie, pitie me : 
N'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel, 
IV'oserez vous, mon bel amy ? 
Thy cheekes like cherries that doo growe, 
IV'oserez vous, mon bel amy ? 
Amongst the Westerne mounts of snowe, 
Ie vous en îrie, pitie me: 
iV'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel, 
iV'oserez vous, mon bel amy ? 
Thy lips vermilion, full of loue, 
iV'oserez vous, mon bel amy ? 
Thy necke as siluer-white as doue, 
Ze vous en rie, pitie me : 
2V'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel, 
iv'oserez vous, mon bel amy ? 
Thine eyes like flames of holie rires, 
iV'oserez vous, mon bel amy? 
]3urnes ail my thoughts with sweete desires, 
Ie vous en rie, pitie me : 
2V'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel, 
iV'oserez vous, mon bel amy ? 
AI1 thy beauties sting my hart, 
N'oserez vous, mon bel amy ? 
I must die through Cupid's dart, 
Ie vous en prie, pitie me : 
iV'oserez vous, mon bel, mon bel» 
iV'oserez vous, mon bel amy ? 
18 as] is Q r6o 7 27 siluer, white Qq 





4 ° 

Wilt thou let thy Venus die ? 
iV'oserez vous, mon bel avoE I 
Adon were vnkinde, say I, 
Ze vous en _rie, pitie me : 
YV'oserez vous, mon bel, »ton bel, 
_/'V'oserez vous, mo» bel amy? 
To let faire Venus die for woe, 
_/'V'oserez vous, mon bel amy ? 
That doth loue sweete Adon so ; 
Ie vous en rie, pitie me: 
N'oserez vous, mon bel, »ton bel, 
2V'oserez vous, nwn bel amy ? 



Sitting and sighing in my secret muse, 
As once Apollo did, surprisde with loue, 
Noting the slippery wayes young yeeres do vse, 
What fond affects the prime of youth doth moue, 
With bitter teares despairing I do crie, 
' Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.' 
When wanton age, the blossome of my rime, 
Drewe me to gaze vpon the gorgeous sight, 
That beauty pompous in her highest prime, 
Presents to tangle men with sweete delight, 
Then with despairing teares my thoughts did crie, 
'Wo worth the faults and follies of naine eie.' 
When I surueid the riches of her lookes; 
Whereout flew flames of neuer quencht desire, 
Wherein lay baites, that Venus snares with hookes, 
Oh, where proud Cupid sate all armde with tire: 
Then toucht with loue my inward soule did crie, 
'Wo worth the faultes and follies of mine eie.' 
The milke white Galaxia of her brow, 
Where Loue doth daunce lauoltas of his skill, 

LX Qq æ9o, z6oo, z6o 7 7 blossome 19),ce: blossom[e]s Qq 
Dyce : do[e] Qq 

11 did 



Like to the Temple, where true louers vow 
To follow what shall please their Mistresse will, 
Noting her iuorie front, now do I crie, 
'Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.' 
Hir face like siluer Luna in hir shine, 35 
All tainted through with bright vermillion straines, 
Like lillies dipt in Bacchus choicest wine, 
Powdred and interseamd with azurde vaines, 
Delighting in their pride now may I crie, 
'Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.' 30 
The golden wyers that checkers in the day, 
Infeiiour to the tresses of her haire, 
Her amber tramells did my heart dismay, 
That when I lookte, I durst not ouer-dare: 
Prowd of her pride, now ara I forst to cri, 35 
' Wo worth the faults and follies of mine cie.' 
These fading beauties drew me on to sin, 
Natures great riches framde my bitter ruth, 
These were the trappes that loue did snare me in, 
Oh, these, and none but these haue wrackt my youth. 40 
Misled by them, I lnay dispairing crie, 
'Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.' 
By these I slipt from verrues holy tracke, 
That leades vnto the highest Christall sphere, 
By these I fell to vanitie and wracke, 4.; 
And as a man forlorne with sin and feare, 
Despaire and sorrow doth constraine me crie, 
' Wo worth the faults and follies of mine cie.' 



Whilome in the Winters rage 
A Palmer old and full of age, 
Sate and thought vpon his youth, 
With eyes, teares, and harts ruth, 
Being all with tares yblent, 

LX 37 vnto (2 i6o7 LXI (2f i.;9o , 1600, i6o 7 


When he thought on yeares mispent, 
When his follies came to minde, 
How fond loue had ruade him blinde, 
And wrapt him in a field of woes, 
Shadowed with pteasures shoes, 
Then he sighed and said alas, 
Man is sinne, and flesh is grasse. 
I thought my mistris haires were gold, 
And in her lockes my heart I folde: 
Her amber tresses were the sight 
That wrapped me in vaine delight: 
Her Iuorie front, her pretie chin, 
Were stales that drew me on to sin: 
Her starrie lookes, her Christall eyes, 
Brighter then the Sunnes arise: 
Sparkling pleasing flames of tire, 
Yoakt my thoughts and my desire, 
That I gan crie ere I blin, 
Oh her eyes are paths to sin. 
Her face was faire, her breath was sweete, 
All her lookes for loue was meete: 
But loue is follie this I knowe, 
And beautie fadeth like to snowe. 
Oh why should man delight in pride, 
Whose blossome like a deaw doth glide: 
When these supposes toucht my thought, 
That world was vaine, and beautie nought, 
I gan sigh and say alas, 
Man is sinne, and flesh is grasse. 





IIeritas non fuaerit Angulos. 
No storme so sharp to rent the little Reede, 
For sild it breakes though euery way it bend, 
The tire may heat but not consume the Flint, 
The gold in furnace purer is indeede. 
LXI 0_6 were Q z6o7 88 to before sigh add Qq z6oo, z6o 7 
Qq u9 o, 16oo, 16o 7 1 rend Q 16o7 




Report that sild to honour is a friend, 5 
May many lies against true meaning mynt: 
But yet at last 
Gainst slaunders blast, 
Truth doth the silly sackles soule defend. 
Though false reproach seekes honour to distaine o 
And enuy bites the bud though nere so pure: 
Though lust doth seek to blemish chast desire, 
Yet truth that brookes not falshoods slaunderous staine, 
Nor can the spight of enuies wrath indure, 
Will trie true loue from lust in Iustice tire, I5 
_And maulger all 
Will free from thrall 
The guiltles soule that keepes his footing sure. 
Where innocence triumpheth in ber prime, 
And guilt cannot approach the honest minde: 20 
Where chast intent is free from any misse, 
Though enuie striue, yet secret searching rime, 
With piercing insight will the truth out finde, 
And make discouerie who the guiltie is: 
For time still tries 2 
The truth from lies, 
_And God makes open what the world doth blinde. 
l/Citas te»oris fllia. 

With sweating browes I long haue plowde the sandes: 
My seede was youth, my croppe was endlesse care: 
Repent hath sent me home with emptie hands 
At last, to tell how rire out follies are: 
And rime hath left experience to approue : 
The gaine is griefe to those that trafiïque loue. 
The silent thoughts of my repentant yeeres 
That fill my head, haue cald me home at last: 
LXlI 18 keepes] sets Qq 16oo, r6o 7 
searching Qq 7 find[e] Qq 6oo, 6o 7 
7 th«ught Q¢ 

'2-2 secret-searching Walker: 
LXIII Qe z59o , 6oo, 6o7 


Now loue vnmaskt a wanton wretch apeares; 
]3egot by guilefull thought with ouer hast, 
In prime of youth a rose, in age a weede, 
That for a minutes ioye payes endlesse neede. 
Dead to delights, a foe to fond conceipt, 
Allied to wit by want, and sorrow bought : 
Farewell fond youth, long fostred in deceipt: 
Forgiue me Time disguisd idle thought. 
And Loue adew, loe hasting to mine ende; 
I finde no time too late for to amend. 




Reason that long in prison of my will 
Hast wept thy mistris wants and losse of rime: 
Thy wonted siege of honour safely clime, 
To thee I yeeld as guiltie of mine ill. 
Lo (fettered in their teares) mine eyes are prest 
To pay due homage to their natiue guide, 
My vretched heart vounded with bad betide, 
To craue his peace from reason, is addrest. 
My thoughts ashamd since by themselues consumd 
Haue done their duetie to repentant wit: 
Ashamde of all sweete guide I sorie sit, 
To see in youth how I too farre presumde, 
That he whom loue and errour did betray, 
Subscribes to thee, and takes the better way. 
Sera sed serio. 



When lordly Saturne in a sable roabe 
Sat full of frownes and mourning in the West, 



LXIV Qq 59 o, 2607 LXV Qq 259o  6oo, 2607 

Tbe euening starre scarce peept from out her lodge 
And Phoebus newly gallopt to bis rest: 
Euen then 
Did I 
Within my boate sit in the silent streames, 
And voyd of cares as he tbat lies and dreames. 
As Pbao so a Ferriman I was, 
The countrie lasses sayd I was too faire, 
With easie toyle I labourd at mine oare, 
To passe from side to side wbo did repaire: 
And then 
Did I 
For paines take pence» and Charon like transport 
Assoone the swayne as men of high import. 
When want of worke did giue me leaue to rest, 
My sport was catching of the wanton fish: 
So did I weare the tedious rime away, 
And with my labour mended oft my dish: 
For why 
I thought 
That idle houres were Calenders of ruth 
And time iii spent was preiudice to youth. 
I scornd to loue, for were the Nimph as faire, 
As she that loued the beauteous Latmian swayne, 
Her face, ber eyes, ber tresses, nor ber browes 
Like Iuorie could my affection gaine: 
For why 
I said 
With high disdaine, Loue is a base desire, 
And Cupids flames, why the'are but watrie tire. 
As thus I sat disdayning of proud loue, 
Haue ouer Ferriman there cried a boy, 
And with him was a pamgon, for hue 
A louely damosell beauteous and coy, 
And there 
With her 
A maiden, couered with a tawnie vale, 
Her face vnseene for breeding louers baie. 
23 was Qq r6oo, .t6o 7 82 but] by Q r6oo 






4 ° 

I stird my boate, and when I came to shoare 
The boy was wingd, me thought it was a wonder: 
The dame had eyes like lightning, or the flash 
That runnes before the hot report of thunder: 
Her smiles 45 
Were sweete, 
Louely her face: was neere so faire a creature, 
For earthly carkasse had a heauenly feature. 
My friend (quoth she) sweete Ferriman behold, 
We three must passe, but not a farthing rare, 50 
But I will giue (for I ara Queene of loue) 
The brightest lasse thou lik'st vnto thy share, 
Choose where 
Thou louest 
Be she as faire as Loues sweet Ladie is, 
She shall be thine if that will be thy blisse. 
With that she smiled with such a pleasing face, 
As might haue ruade the marble rocke relent: 
But I that triumpht in disdaine of loue, 
Bad fie on him that to fond loue was bent, 60 
And then 
Said thus, 
So light the Ferriman for loue doth care, 
As Venus passe not, if she pay no fare. 
At this a frowne sat on her angrie brow, 65 
She winkes vpon her wanton sonne hard by: 
He from his quiuer drew a bolt of tire, 
And aymd so right as that he pearst naine eye: 
And then 
Did she 70 
Draw downe the vale that hid the virgins face, 
Whose heauenly beautie lightned all the place, 
Straight then I leande mine eare vpon naine arme, 
And lookt vpon the Nymph (if so) was faire: 
Her eyes were starres, and like Apollos locks, 
The thought appeard the tramels of her haire, 
Thus did 
I gaze 
68 he] I 0 6oo 78 eare . . . arme] arme.., eare Q .U9 o 

9 8 


And suckt in beautie till that sweete desire 
Cast fuell on and set my thought on tire. 
When I was lodgd within the net of loue 
And that they saw my heart was all on flame, 
The Nymph away, and with her trips along 
The winged boy, and with her goes his dame. 
Oh then 
I cried 
Stay Ladies stay and take not any care, 
You all shall passe and pay no penny fare. 
Away they fling, and looking coylie backe 
They laugh at me: oh with a loude disdaine 
I send out sighes to ouertake the Nimph, 
And teares as lutes to call them backe againe: 
But they 
Flie thence, 
But I sit in my boate, with hand on oare, 
And feele a paine, but knowe hot whats the sore. 
At last I feele it is the flame of loue, 
I striue but bootlesse to expresse the paine, 
It cooles, it rires, it hopes, it feares, it frets, 
And stirreth passions throughout euery vaine. 
That downe 
I sat, 
And sighing did faire Venus lawes approoue, 
And swore no thing so sweete and sowre as loue. 
.Et florida 2ungunt. 


9 ° 



No cleare appeard vpon the azurd Skie, 
A vale of stormes had shaddowed Phoebus face, 
And in a sable mantle of disgrace, 
Sate he that is ycleaptd heauens bright eye, 
As though that he, 
Perplext for Clitia, meant to leaue his place, 
And wrapt in sorrowes did resolue to die: 
LXV 91 Nimph 1)yce : Nimphs ( z59o : Nymphs (q z6oo, z6o 7 
16oo 98 represse _q x6oo, x6o 7 

96 knowes 
LXVI Q_.q 159o, 1600, r6o7 



For death to louers woes is euer nie: 
Thus foulded in a hard and mournfull laze 
Distrest sate hee. fo 
A mistie fogge had thickened ail the ayre, 
Iris sate solemne and denied her showers : 
Flora in taunie hid vp ail her fiowers 
And would not diaper her meads with faire, 
As though that shee 5 
Were armd vpon the barren earth to lowre. 
Vnto the founts Diana nild repaire, 
But sate as ouershadowed with despaire, 
Solemne and sad within a withered bower 
Her Nymphes and she. 2o 
Mars malecontent lay sick on Venus knee, 
Venus in dumps sat muffled with a frowne, 
Iuno laid all her frollick humors downe, 
And Ioue was ail in dumps as well as she: 
Twas Fates decree. 25 
For Neptune (as he ment the world to drown) 
Heaud vp his surges to the highest tree, 
And leagud with Eol, mard the Seamans glee, 
Beating the Cedars with his billows downe, 
Thus wroth was hee. 3o 
My mistris deynes to shew hir sunbright face, 
The ayre eleard vp, the clowds did fade away, 
Phoebus was frollick when she did display, 
The gorgious bewties, that ber frunt do grace, 
So that when shee 35 
But walkt abroad, the stormes then fled away. 
Flora did checker ail her treading place, 
And Neptune calmde the surges with his mace, 
Diana and hir Nimphes were blithe and gaie, 
When her they see. 4o 
Venus and Mars.agreed in a smile: 
And iealous Iuno ceased now to lowre, 
loue saw her face and sighed in his bowre: 
Iris and Eol laugh within a while 
To see this glee: 45 
9 blaze Q 6o7 29 Cedar Q¢ 6oo, 6o7 41 greed Q 6o 7 



Ah borne was she within a happy howre 
That makes heauen, earth, and gods and ail to stalle, 
Such wonders can her beauteous lookes compile, 
To cleare the world from any froward lowre, 
Ah blest be shee. 50 

Imd/a forttm dedi vo/a concordia. 
When Flora proude in pompe of ail her flowers 
Sat bright and gay, 
And gloried in the deaw of Iris showers, 
And did display 
Her mantle checquered ail with gawdy greene : 
Then I 
A mournfull man in Erecine was seene. 
With folded armes I trampIed through the grasse, 
Tracing as he 
That held the Throane of Fortune brittle glasse, 
And loue to be 
Like Fortune fleeting, as the restlesse wind 
With mists 
Whose dampe doth make the cleerest eyes grow blind. 
Thus in a maze I spied a hideous flame, 
I cast my sight, 
And sawe where blythly bathing in the same 
With great delight, 
A worme did lye, wrapt in a smokie sweate: 
And yet 
Twas strange 
It carelesse lay and shrunke not at the heate. 
I stood amazd and wondring at the sight, 
While that a dame 
LXVI 48 lookes] work[e]s Qq z6oo, z6o 7 
11 Fortunes Q z6o 7 

LXVII Qf U9 o, z6oo, 16o7 

That shone like to the heauens rich sparkling light, 
Discourst the saine: 
And sayd, my friend this worme within the tire 
Which lies 3o 
Is Venus worme, and represents desire. 
A Salamander is this princely beast, 
Deckt with a crowne, 
Giuen him by Cupid as a gorgeous crest 35 
Gainst fortunes frowne, 
Content he lies and bathes him in the flame, 
And goes 
Not foorth : 
For why he cannot liue without the same. 4o 
As he: so louers lie within the tire 
Of feruent loue, 
And shrinke not from the flame of hot desire, 
Nor will not mooue 
From any heate, that Venus force imparts : 45 
But lie 
Within a tire and wast away their harts. 
Vp flew the dame and vanisht in a clowde, 
But there stood I, 5o 
And many thoughts within my mind did shrowde 
My loue: for why, 
I felt wlthin my heart a scortching tire, 
And yet 
As did 55 
The Salamander, twas my whole desire. 
Non fuga Teucrus amal : fuae tamen odil haeL 
It was a valley gawdie greene, 
Where Dian at the fount was seene, 
Greene it was, 
And did passe 
LXVII 41 lies Qq z6oo, z6o7 
LXVIII Qq ugo, «6oo, z6o 7 

2 My Qq z6oo, z6o7: Of Q 1r9 o 


All other of Dianas bowers, 
In the pride of Floras flowers. 
A fount it was that no Sunne sees, 
Circled in with Cipres trees, 
Set so nie, 
As Phoebus eye 
Could not doo the Virgins scathe, 
To see them naked when they bathe. 
She sat there all in white, 
Colour fitting her delite, 
Virgins so 
Ought to go: 
For white in Armorie is plast 
To be the colour that is chast. 
Her tafta Cassocke might you see, 
Tucked vp aboue her knee, 
Which did show 
There below 
Legges as wh/te as whales bone. 
So white and chast was neuer none. 
Hard by her vpon the ground, 
Sat her Virgins in a round 
]3athing their 
Golden haire, 
And singing all in notes hye 
Fie on Venus flattring eye. 
Fie on loue it is a toy, 
Cupid witlesse and a boy, 
Ail her rires 
And desires 
Are plagues that God sent downe from hie, 
To pester men with miserie. 
As thus the Virgins did disdaine, 
Louers ioy and Louers paine, 
Cupid nie 
Did espie, 
11 virgin Qq r6oo, 6o 7 21 did] ail did Qq 6oo, 6o 7 
laie] from a hie Q 6oo : from on hie Q r6o7 




4 ° 
85 downe from 



Greeuing at Dianas song, 
Slylie stole these maides among. 
His bow of steele, darts of tire, 
He shot amongst them sweete desire, 
Which straight flies 
In their eyes, 
And at the entrance ruade them start, 
For it ran from eye to hart. 
Calisto straight supposed Ioue 
Was faire and frolicke for to loue: 
Dian shee 
Scapt not free: 
For well I wot hereupon 
She loued the swayne Endimion. 
Clitia, lhoebus, and Cloris eye 
Thought none so faire as Mercurie: 
Venus thus 
Did discusse 
By her sonne in darts of tire, 
None so chast to checke desire. 
Dian rose with all her maids, 
Blushing thus at loues braids, 
With sighs ail 
Shew their thrall, 
And flinging hence pronounce this saw, 
What so strong as Loues sweet law ? 


Dildido dildido, 
Oh loue, oh loue, 
I feele thy rage romble below and aboue. 
In sommer time I sawe a face, 
Trob belle 2our moy htlas hllas, 
Like to a stoand horse was her pace: 
Was euer yong man so dismaid, 
Her eyes like waxe torches did make me afraid, 
2"rob belle 2our moy, voila mon tresas. 
LXIX Qq u9 o, 6oo 16o7 9 voila] aide Q¢ 16oo, 16o7 


Thy beautie (my Loue) exceedeth supposes, 
Thy haire is a nettle for the nicest roses, 
2lion dia«, aide moy, 
That I with the primrose of my fresh wit, 
May tumble her tyrannie vnder my feete, 
filWdanq«e œee sera un œeeune ray. 
Tro belle .pater moy, hélas hélas, 
Tro belle pazzr »wy, voyla mon trespas. 



In greener yeares when as my greedie thoughts 
Gan yeeld their homage to ambitions will, 
My feeble wit that then preuailed noughts, 
Perforce presented homage to his ill: 
And I in follies bondes fulfild with crime, 
At last vnloosd: thus spide my fosse of time. 
As in his circuler and ceaselesse ray 
The yeare begins, and in it selfe returnes 
Refresht by presence of the eye of day, 
That sometimes nie and sometimes farre soiournes, 
So loue in me (conspiring my decay) 
With endles tire my heedles bosome burnes, 
And flore the end of my aspiring sinne, 
My paths of error hourely doth begin. 
When in the Rare the Sunne renewes his beames, 
Beholding mournfull earth araid in griefe, 
That waights reliefe from his refreshing gleames, 
The tender flockes reioycing their reliefe, 
l)oe leape for ioy and lap the siluer streames, 
So at my prîme when youth in me was chiefe, 
Ail Heifer like with wanton horne I playd, 
And by my will my wit to loue betrayd. 
When Phoebus with Europa's bearer bides, 
The Spring appeares, impatient of delaies, 
LXX Qq Lrgo, z6oo, z6o7 7 ioy ç z6o 7 



The labourer to the fields his plow-swaynes guides, 
He sowes, he plants, he builds at all assaies, 
When prime of yeares that many errors hides, 
By fancies force did trace vngodly waies, 
I blindfold walkt, disdayning to behold, 
That life doth vade, and yong men must be old. 30 
When in the hold whereas the Twins doo rest, 
Proud Phlaegon breathing tire doth last anaaine: 
The trees with leaues, the earth with flowers is drest, 
When I in pride of yeres with peeuish braine 
Presum'd too farre and ruade fond loue my guest; 35 
With frosts of c_are my flowers were nipt anaaine. 
In height of weale who beares a careles hart, 
Repents too late his ouer foolish part. 
When in Aestiuall Cancers gloolnie bower, 
The greater glorie of the heauens dooth shine ; 40 
The aire is calme, the birds at euerie stowre 
Do tempt the heauens with harmonie diuine, 
When I was first inthrald to Cupids powre, 
In vaine I spent the May-month of my time, 
Singing for ioy to see me captiue thrall 45 
To him, whose gaines are greefe, whose comfort smal. 
When in the height of his Miridian walke, 
The Lions holde conteines the eye of day, 
The riping corne growes yeolow in the stalke, 
When strength of yeares did blesse me euerie way. 5o 
Maskt with delights of follie was my talke, 
Youth ripened ail my thoughts to my decay : 
In lust I sowde, my frute was losse of time ; 
My hopes were proud, and yet my bodie slime. 
When in the Virgins lap earths comfort sleepes, 55 
Bating the furie of his burning eyes, 
42 To Qq 45 me] my Qq _r6oo, -r6o7 54 were] are Q -r6o7  
steep[e]s Qq r6oo, 2607 


:Both corne and frutes are firmd and comfort creepes 
On euerie plant and flowre that springing fise: 
When age at last his chiefe dominion keepes, 
And leades me on to see my vanities ; 6o 
What loue and scant foresight did make me sowe 
In youthfull yeares, is ripened now in woe. 
When in the Ballance Daphnes Lemman blins 
The Ploughman gathereth frute for passed paine 
When I at last considered of my sinnes, 65 
And thought vpon my youth and follies vaine, 
I cast my count, and reason now begins 
To guide mine eyes with iudgement, bought with paine, 
Which weeping wish a better way to finde, 
Or els for euer to the world be blinde. îo 
When with the Scorpion proud Apollo plaies, 
The wines are trode and carried to their presse, 
The woods are feld gainst winters sharpe affraies : 
When grauer yeares my iudgements did addresse, 
I gan repaire my ruines and decaies: 75 
Exchanging will to wit and soothfastnesse : 
Claiming from Time and Age no good but this, 
To see my sinne, and sorrow for my misse. 
When as the Archer in his Winter holde 
The Delian Harper tunes his wonted loue, So 
The ploughman sowes and tills his labored molde; 
When with aduise and iudgement I approue, 
ttow Loue in youth hath griefe for gladnes solde, 
The seedes of shame I from my heart remooue, 
And in their steads I set downe plants of grace, s5 
And with repent bewaile my youthfull race. 
When he that in Eurotas siluer glide 
Doth baine his tresse, beholdeth Capricorne, 

78 affaires QŒE ,600, ,607 74 iudgement Qq i6oo, ,607 86 be- 
waild(e) Qq 


The daies growes short, then hasts the winters tide, 
The Sun with sparing lights doth seeme to mourn, 
Gray is the green, the flowers their beautie hides: 
When as I see that I to death was borne, 
My strength decaide, my graue alreadie drest, 
I count my life my losse, my death my best. 
When with Aquarius Phoebes brother staies, 
The blythe and wanton windes are whist and still, 
Cold frost and ShOW the pride of earth betraies: 
When age my head with hoarie haires doth fill, 
Reason sits downe, and bids mee count my dayes, 
And pray for peace, and blame my froward will: 
In depth of griefe in this distresse I crie, 
Peccaui Domine, miserere mei. 
When in the Fishes mansion Phoebus dwells, 
The dayes renew, the earth regaines his rest: 
When olde in yeares, my want my death foretells: 
My thoghts and praiers to heauen are whole addrest, 
Repentance youthly follie quite expells, 
I long to be dissolued for my best, 
That yong in zeale long beaten with my rod, 
I may grow old to wisedome and to God. 


9 ° 





Hir stature and hir shape was passing tall, 
Diana like, when longst the lawnes she goes, 
A stately pace like Iuno when she braued, 
The queene of heauen fore Paris in the vale, 
A front beset with loue and maiestie, 
A face like louely Venus when she blusht 
A seely shepherd shoulde be beauties iudge, 
A lip sweete rubie red, gracd with delight, 
Hir eies two sparkling starres in winter night, 
LXX 89 day Q z6o7 90 do Q z6o7 
6o7 96 Qq 16oo, 16o7 omit this line 
6oo, 16o 7 LXXI Qq U91, 1617 
X - 

91 is] in Q 16o7 hide Qq 16oo, 
107 youthly] youth by Qq zf9o, 



When chilling frost doth cleere the azurd skie, 
Hir haires in tresses twind with threds of silke, 
Hoong wauing downe like Phoebus in his prime: 
Hir breasts as white as those two snowie swannes 
That drawes to Paphos Cupids smiling dame: 
A foote like Thetis when she tript the sands, 
To steale Neptunus fauour with his steps: 
In fine, a peece despight of beauty framd, 
To see what natures cunning could affoord. 


Sweet are the thoughts that sauour of content, 
the quiet mind is richer than a crowne, 
Sweet are the nights in carelesse slumber spent, 
the poore estate scornes fortunes angrie frowne. 
Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such blis 
beggers inioy, when Princes off do mis 
The homely house that harbors quiet test, 
the cottage that affoords no pride nor care, 
The meane that grees with Countrie musick best, 
the sweet consort of mirth and musicks fare, 
Obscured life sets downe a type of blis, 
a minde content both crowne and kingdome is. 


He that appaled with lust would saile in hast to Corinthum, 
There to be taught in Layis schoole to seeke for a mistresse, 
Is to be traind in Venus troupe and changd to the purpose, 
Rage imbraced but reason quite thrust out as on exile, 
Pleasure a paine rest tournd to be care and mirth as a madnesse, 5 
Firie mindes inflamd with a looke inraged as Alecto, 
Quaint in aray, sighs fetcht from farre, and teares many fained, 
Pen sicke sore depe plungd in paine, hot a place but his hart 

LXXII Q z)'gz , 16z7 LXXIlI Ç Ugz, 16z7 7 marie 



Daies in griefe and nights consumed to thinke on a goddesse, 
Broken sleeps, swete dreams but short fro the night to the 
morning o 
Venus dasht his mistresse face as bright as Apollo, 
Helena staind the golden ball wrong giuen by the sheepheard, 
Haires of gold eyes twinckling, starres hir lips to be rubies, 
Teeth of pearle hir brests like snow hir cheekes to be roses. 
Sugar candie she is as I gesse fro the wast to the kneestead. 5 
Nought is amisse no fault were round if soule were amended. 
All were blisse if such fond lust led hot to repentance. 

A monster seated in the midst of men, 
Which daily fed is neuer satiat, 
A hollow gulfe of vild ingratitude, 
Which for his food vouchsafes not pay of thankes, 
But still doth claime a debt of due expence, 5 
From hence doth Venus draw the shape of lust, 
From hence Mars raiseth bloud and stratagemes, 
Fhe wracke of wealth the secret foe to lire, 
The sword that hastneth on the date of death, 
The surest friend to phisicke by disease, o 
The pumice that defaceth memorie, 
The misty vapour that obscures the light, 
And brightest beames of science glittring sunne, 
And doth eclipse the minde with sluggish thoughtes, 
The monster that afoordes this cursed brood,  
And makes commixture of these dyer mishaps, 
Is but a stomach ouerchargd with meates, 
That takes delight in endlesse gluttony. 

Sitting by a Riuers side, 
Where a silent streame did glide, 
LXXIII 12 sheeheard Q U9 z LXXIV Qq u9 z, 
Qq 161, I6.1I 



Muse I did of many things, 
That the mind in quiet brings. 
I gan thinke how some men deeme 
Gold their god, and some esteeme 
Honour is the chiefe content, 
That to man in lire is lent. 
And some others doe contend, 
Quiet none, like to a friend. 
Others hold, there is no wealth 
Compared to a perfect health. 
Some mans mind in quiet stands, 
When he is Lord of many lands. 
But I did sigh, and sayd all this 
Was but a shade of perfect blis. 
And in my thoughts I did approue, 
Nought so sweet as is true loue, 
Loue twixt louers passeth these, 
When mouth kisseth and hart grees, 
With folded armes and lippes meeting, 
Each soule another sweetly greeting. 
For by the breath the soule fleeteth, 
And soule with soule in kissing meeteth. 
If Loue be so sweet a thing, 
That such happy blisse doth bring, 
Happy is loues sugred thrall, 
But vnhappy maydens all, 
Who esteeme your Virgins blisses, 
Sweeter then a wiues sweet kisses. 
No such quiet to the mind, 
As true loue with kisses kind. 
But if a kisse proue vnchast, 
Then is true loue quite disgrast. 
Though loue be sweet, learn this of me 
No loue sweet but honesty. 

It was frosty winter season, 
And faire Floras wealth was geason: 
LXXVI Qf ,6xf, «6.t« 




iV[eades that earst with greene were spred, 
With choyce flowers diapred, 
Had tawny vales: cold had scanted 
What the Spring and Nature planted: 
Leauelesse boughes there might you see, 
All except fayre Daphnes tree, 
On their twigs no byrdes pearched, 
Warmer couerts now they searched ; 
_And by Natures secret reason, 
Trained their voyces to the season: 
With their feeble tunes bewraying, 
How they grieued the springs decaying : 
Frosty Winter thus had gloomed 
Each fayre thing that sommer bloomed, 
Fields were bare, and trees vnclad, 
Flowers withered, byrdes were sad: 
When I saw a shepheard fold, 
Sheepe in Coate to shunne the cold: 
Himselfe sitting on the grasse, 
That with frost withered was: 
Sighing deepely, thus gan say, 
Loue is folly when astray: 
Like to loue no passion such, 
For 'tis madnesse, if too much: 
If too little, then despaire: 
If too high, he beates the ayre; 
With bootlesse cries, if too low: 
An eagle matcheth with a crow. 
Thence growes iarres, thus I find, 
Loue is folly, if vnkind; 
Yet doe men most desire 
To be heated with this tire: 
Whose flame is so pleasing hot, 
That they burne, yet feele it not: 
Yet hath loue another kind, 
Worse than these vnto the mind: 
That is, when a wantons eye 
Leades desire cleane awry, 

5 scanted .Dyce: scattered Qq 
his Qq 

10 now D3/ce: none Qq 


4 ° 
26 'ris .Dyce : 


And with the ]3ee doth reioyce, 
Euery minute to change choyce, 
Counting he were then in blisse, 
If that each fare fere were his: 
Highly thus is loue disgraste, 
When the louer is vnchaste; 
And would taste of fruit forbidden, 
Cause the scape is easily hidden. 
Though such loue be sweet in brewing 
]3itter is the end ensuing ; 
For the honour of loue he shameth, 
And himselfe with lust defameth; 
For a minutes pleasure gayning, 
Faine and honour euer stayning, 
Gazing tbus so farre awry, 
Last tbe chip fals in his eye, 
Then it burns that earst but heate him, 
And his owne rod gins to beate him ; 
His choycest sweets turne to gall, 
He finds lust his sins thrall : 
That wanton women in their eyes, 
Mens deceiuings doe comprise. 
That homage done to fayre faces, 
Doth dishonour other graces: 
If lawlesse loue be such a sinne, 
Curst is he that liues therein: 
For the gaine of Venus game, 
Is the downefalle vnto shame: 
Here he paus'd and did stay, 
Sigh'd and rose, and went away. 






JVatura 2ihil frustra. 
On women Nature did bestow two eyes, 
Like Heauen's bright lamps, in matchles beauty shining, 
Whose beames doe soonest captiuate the wise 
LXXVI 44 face 19yce : fall Qq 45 is 19yce : in Qq 51 honour .Dyce : 
humour Qq LXXVII Qq z6zy, 2 Heavens .D3,ce: Hemians Qq 

And wary heads, ruade rare by arts refining. 
But why did Nature in her choyce combining, 5 
Plant two faire eyes within a beautious face, 
That they might fauour two with equall grace ? 
Venus did sooth vp Vulcan with one eye, 
With th' other granted Mars his wished glee: 
If she did so, vho Hymen did defie, io 
Thinke loue no sinne, but grant an eye to me, 
In vayne else Nature gaue two stars to thee: 
If then two eyes may well two friends maintaine, 
Allow of two, and proue hOt Nature vayne. 
raturct runare belluinum. 

Quoi Corda, toi Amores. 
Nature foreseeing how men would deuise 
More wiles than Protheus, women to entise, 
Graunted them two, and those bright shining eyes, 
To pearce into men's faults if they were wise. 
For they with shew of vertue maske their vice, 
Therefore to women's eyes belongs these giffs, 
The one must loue, the other see mens shifts. 
Both these await vpon one simple heart, 
And what they choose, it hides vp without change. 
The Emrauld will hOt with his portraite part, 
Nor will a wonaans thoughts delight to range. 
They hold it bad to haue so base exchange. 
One heart, one friend, though that two eyes do choose him, 
No more but one, and heart will neuer loose him. 
Cor unum, .dmor unus. 


What is loue once disgraced ? 
But a wanton thought ill placed, 
LXXVII 10 who Hymen lyce: whom Heimens Q r6rs: whom Hymens 
Q 63r 15 Naturae Qq LXXVIII Qq r6x, «63r 4 mans Qq 
LXXIX Qq r6zS, z63r 



Which doth blemish whom it payneth, 
And dishonours whom it daineth, 
Seene in higher powers most, 
Though some fooles doe fondly bost, 
That who sois high of kin, 
Sanctifies his louers sinne. 
Ioue could not hide Ios scape, 
Nor conceale Calistos tape. 
Both did fault, and both were framed, 
Light of loues, whom lust had sbamed. 
Let not women trust to men, 
They can flatter now and then. 
And tell them many wanton tales, 
Which doe breed their after bales. 
Sinne in kings, is sinne wee see, 
And greater sinne, cause great of gree. 
AIaius peccalum, this I reed, 
If he be high that doth the deed. 
Mars for all his Deity, 
Could not Venus dignifie, 
But Vulcan trapt her, and her blame 
Was punisht with an open shame. 
All the gods laught them to scorne, 
For dubbing Vulcan with the home. 
Whereon may a woman bost, 
If ber chastity be lost. 
Shame awaitt'h vpon her face, 
Blushing cheekes and foule disgrace, 
Report will blab, this is she 
That with ber lust wins infamy, 
If lusting loue be so disgrac't, 
Die before you liue vnchast: 
For better die with honest faine, 
Then lead a wanton life with shame. 




Fie, fie on blind rancie, 
It hinders youths ioy: 
LXXX Q7 1592, z6z7, I62I 



Fayre Virgins learne by me, 
To count loue a toy. 
SVhen Loue learned first the A. 13. C. of delight, 
And knew no figures, nor conceited Phrase: 
He simplie gaue to due desert her right, 
He led not Louers in darke winding wayes, 
He plainly wild to loue, or flatly answered no, 
13ut now who lists to proue, shall find it nothing so. 
Fie, fie then on fancie, 
It hinders youths ioy, 
Fayre Virgins learne by me, 
To count loue a toy. 
For since he learnd to vse the Poets pen, 
He learnde likewise with smoothing words to faine, 
Witching chast eares with trothlesse toungs of men, 
And wronged faith with falshood and disdaine. 
He giues a promise now, anon he sweareth no, 
Who listeth for to proue, shall finde his changing so: .o 
Fie, fie then on fancie, 
It hinders youthes ioy, 
Fayre Virgins learne by me, 
To count loue a toy. 
What meant the Poets in inuectiue verse, 
To sing Medeas shame, and Scillas pride, 
Calipsoes charmes, by which so many dide? 
Onely for this, their vices they rehearse, 
That curious wits which in this world conuerse 
May shun the dangers and entising shoes 
Of such false Syrens, those home breeding foes 
That from their eyes their venim do disperse. 
So soone kils not the 13asiliske with sight, 
The Vipers tooth is not so venomous, o 
The Adders toung not halfe so daungerous, 
_As they that beare the shadow of delight, 
Vho chain blind youths in tramels of their hayre, 
Till wast bring woe, and sorrow hasts despayre. 
LXXXI (2q 1592, I617, 1621 1 in .Dyce : to Qq 5 this] the _q 67, 
621 14 brings 0¢ 67, 1621 


Deceyuing world that with alluring toyes, 
Hast ruade my life the subiect of thy scorne : 
OEnd scornest now to lend thy fading ioyes, 
To lengthen my life, whom friends haue left forlorn 
How well are they that die ere they be borne. 
And neuer see thy sleights, which few men 
Till vnawares they helpelesse are vndone. 
Off haue I sung of loue and of his tire, 
But now I finde that Poet was advizde 
Which ruade full feasts increasers of desire, 
And proues weak loue was with the poor despizde: 
For when the life with food is not sufiïzde, 
What thoughts of loue, what motion of delight, 
What pleasance can proceed from such a wight 
Witnes my want the murderer of my wit, 
My rauisht sense of woonted fury reft, 
Wants such conceit, as should in Poems fit, 
Set downe the sorrow wherein I am left, 
But therefore haue high heauens, their gifts bereft. 
Because so long they lent them me to vse, 
And I so long their bounty did abuse. 
O that a yeere were graunted me to liue, 
And for that yeare my former wits restorde, 
What rules of lire, what counsell would I giue 
How should my sinne with sorrow be deplorde? 
But I must die of euery man abhorde, 
Time loosely spent will not againe be woone, 
My time is loosely spent, and I vndone. 

An Ant and a Grashopper walking together on a 
greene, the one carelessly skiping, the other carefully 
LXXXII Qf z.9» , z6z7, z6»1 4 To lengthen] T'outlength Qf Z6ZT, z6»i 
25 be deplorde] then deplore Q r6z 7 LXXXIII Q _rf92 , z6z7 



prying what Winters prouision was scattered in the 
way: the Grashopper scorning (as wantons will) this 
needelesse thrift (as he tearmed it)reprooued him thus. 
The greedie miser thirsteth still for gaine, 
His thrift is theft, his weale workes others woe, 
That foole is fond which will in caues remaine, 
When mongst faire sweetes he may at pleasure goe. 
To this the Ant perceyuing the Grashoppers meaning, 
quickly replyed : 
The thriftie husband spares what vnthrifts spends 
His thrift no theft, for dangers to prouide ; 
Trust to thy selle, small hope in want yeeld friends 
A caue is better then the desarts Mde. 



In short time these two parted, the one to his 
pleasure, the other to his labor. Anon Harvest grew 
on, and reft from the Grashopper his wonted moysture. 
Then weakely skippes he to the medows brinks, where 
till fell winter he abode. But storms continually powr- 2o 
ing, he went for succour to the Ant his olde acquaintance, 
to whom he had scarce discouered his estate, but the 
little worme ruade this replie. 
Packe hence (quoth he) thou idle lazie worme, 
My house doth harbour no vnthriftie mates: 25 
Thou scornedst to toyle, and now thou feelst the storm 
And starvst for food, while I ara fed with cates, 
Vse no intreats, I will relentlesse test, 
For toyling labour hates an idle guest. 
The Grashopper foodles, helpelesse, and strengthlesse, ao 
got into the next brooke and in the yeelding sand 
digde himselfe a pitte: by which likewise he ingraued 
this Epitaph : 
When Springs greene prime arrayde me with delight, 
And euery power with youthfull vigour fild, 35 
Gaue strength to worke what euer fancie wild, 
I neuer fearde the force of winters spight. 

15 wide]wilde Q z6z7 

When first I saw the Sunne, the day beginne, 
And drie the mornings teares ffom hearbes and grasse, 
I little thought his chearefull light would passe, 40 
Till vgly night with darkenesse enterd in, 
And then day lost I mournde, spring past I waild, 
:But neither teares for this or that auaild, 
Then too too late I praisde the Emmets paine, 
That sought in spring a harbour gainst the heate, 45 
And in the haruest gathered winters meate, 
Perceiuing famine, frosts, and stormie raine. 
M:y wretched end may warne Greene springing youtb, 
"Fo vse delights, as toyes that will deceiue, 
And scorne the world, before the world them leaue, so 
For all worlds trust, is ruine without ruth. 
Then blest are they that like the toyling Ant, 
Prouide in time gainst winters wofull want. 
With this the Grashopper yeelding to the weathers 
extremitie, died comfortlesse without remedie. Like him 5.s 
my selfe: like me, shall ail that trust to friends or 
rimes inconstancie. Now faint I of my last infirmitie, 
beseeching them that shall burie my bodie, to publish 
this last farewell, written with my wretched hand. 
.Faelice»¢ fidsse i¢fa««slo¢«. 6o 

Though Tytirus the Heards Swaine, 
Phillis loue-mate felt the paine, 
That Cupid fiers in the eie, 
Till they loue or till they die, 
Straigned ditties ffom his pipe, 
With pleasant voyce and cunning stripe: 
Telling in his song how faire, 
Phillis eie-browes and hir haire. 
How hir face past all supposes: 
For white Lillies: for red Roses. 


LXXXIII 5 wofull winters (2 67 LXXXIV (2 «)'ge 



Though he sounded on the hils, 
Such fond passions as loue wils, 
That all the Swaines that foulded by, 
Flockt to heare his harmonie, 
And vowed by Pan that Tytirus 
Did Poet-like his loues discusse, 
That men might learne mickle good, 
By the verdict of his mood, 
Yet olde Menalcas ouer-ag'd, 
That many winters there had wag'd, 
Sitting by and hearing this: 
Said, their wordes were all amisse. 
For (quoth he) such wanton laies, 
Are hOt worthie to haue praise. 
Iigges and ditties of fond loues, 
¥outh to mickle follie mooues. 
And tould this old said saw to thee, 
Which Coridon did learne to me, 
Tis shame and sin for pregnant wits, 
To spend their skill in wanton fits. 
Martiall was a honnie boy, 
He writ loues griefe and loues ioy. 
t-Ie tould what vanton lookes passes, 
Twixt the Swaines and the lasses. 
And mickle wonder did he write, 
Of Womens loues and their spight, 
But for the follies of his pen, 
He was hated of most men: 
For they could say, t'was sin and shame 
For Schollers to endite such game. 
Quaint was Ouid in his rime, 
Chiefest Poet of his time. 
What he could in wordes rehearse, 
Ended in a pleasing verse. 
Apollo with his ay-greene baies, 
Crownd his head to shew his praise: 
And all the Muses did agree, 
He should be theirs, and none but he. 
This Poet chaunted all of loue, 
Of Cupids wings and Venus doue: 




4 ° 




Of faire Corima and her hew, 
Of white and red, and vaines blew. 
How they loued and how they greed, 
And how in fancy they did speed. 
His Elegies were wanton all, 
Telling of loues pleasings thrall, 
And cause he would the Poet seeme, 
That best of Venus lawes could deeme. 
Strange precepts he did impart, 
And writ three bookes of loues art. 
There he taught how to woe, 
What in loue men should doe, 
How they might soonest winne, 
Honest women vnto sinne: 
Thus to tellen all the truth, 
He infected Romes youth: 
And with his bookes and verses brought 
That men in Rome nought els saught, 
But how to tangle maid or wife, 
With honors breach throgh wanton life: 
The foolish sort did for his skill, 
Praise the deepnesse of his quill : 
And like to him said there was none, 
Since died old Anacreon. 
But Romes Augustus worlds wonder, 
13rookt not of this foolish blonder : 
Nor likt he of this wanton verse, 
That loues lawes did rehearse. 
For well he saw and did espie, 
Youth was sore impaird thereby: 
And by experience he finds, 
Wanton bookes infect the minds, 
Which made him straight for reward, 
Though the censure seemed hard, 
To bannish Ouid quite from Rome, 
This was great Augustus doome: 
For (quoth he) Poets quils, 
Ought not for to teach men ils. 
For learning is a thing of prise, 
To shew precepts to make men wise. 








And neere the Muses sacred places 
Dwels the virtuous minded graces. 
Tis shame and sinne then for good wits, 
To shew their skill in wanton fits. 
This Augustus did reply, 
And as he said, so thinke I. 



His stature was not very tall, 
Leane he was, his legs were small, 
Hosd within a stock of red, 
_A buttond bonnet on his head, 
From vnder which did hang, I weene, 
Siluer haires both bright and sheene, 
His beard was white, trimmed round, 
His countnance blithe and merry found, 
A Sleeuelesse Iacket large and wide, 
With many pleights and skirts side, 
Of water Chamlet did he weare, 
A whittell by his belt he beare, 
His shooes were corned broad before, 
His Iuckhorne at his side he wore, 
And in his hand he bore a booke, 
Thus did this auntient Poet looke. 



Large he was, his height was long, 
13road of brest, his liras were strong, 
But couller pale, and wan his looke, 
Such haue they that plyen their booke, 
His head was gray and quaintly shorne, 
Neately was his beard worne. 
His visage graue, sterne and grim, 
Cato was most like to him. 

LXXXIV 91 place Q LXXXV Q r)'9» 
COLL$. H  


LXXXVI Q 1592 



His Bonnet was a Hat of blew, 
His sleeues straight of that same hew, 
A surcoate of a tawnie die, 
Hung in pleights ouer his thigh, 
A breech close vnto his dock, 
Handsomd with a long stock, 
Pricked before were his shoone, 
He wore such as others doone, 
A bag of red by his side, 
And by that his napkin tide, 
Thus Iohn Gower did appeare, 
Quaint attired as you heere. 
Secret alone, and si]ent in my bed, 
When follies of my youth doe touch my thought, 
And reason tels me that all flesh is sinne, 
And all is vaine that so by man is wrought. 
Hearts sighes, 
Eies teares, 
With sorrow throb when in my mind I see, 
Ail that man doth is foolish vanitie. 
When pride presents the state of honors pompe, 
And seekes to set aspiring mindes on tire, 
When wanton Loue brings beauty for a bait, 
To scortch the eie with ouer hot desire. 
Hearts sighes, 
Eies teares, 
With sorrow throb when in my mind I see, 
That pride and loue are extreame vanitie. 
Oh Loue that ere I loued, yet loue is chast, 
My rancie likt none but my husbands face. 
But when I thinke I loued none but him, 
Nor would my thought giue any other grace, 
Harts sighes, 
Eyes teares, 
With sorrow throb, when in my minde I see, 
The purest loue is toucht with Iealousie. 
LXXXVII (2 r£ga 


Alas mine eye had neuer wanton lookes, 25 
A modest blush did euer taint my Cheekes, 
If then suspition with a faulse conceipt, 
The ruine of my faine and honour seekes, 
Harts sighes, 
Eyes teares, 30 
Must needs throb sorrows, when my mind doth see, 
Chaste thoughts are blamd with causelesse iealousie. 
My husbands will was ere to me a lawe, 
To please his fancie is my whole delight, 
Then if he thinkes whatsoeuer I dois bad, 35 
And with suspition chastitie requight, 
Harts sighes, 
Eyes teares, 
Must needs throb sorrows, when my minde dooth see, 
Dutie and loue are quit with iealousie. 40 
No deeper hell can fret a womans minde, 
Then tobe tainted with a false suspect, 
Then if my constant thoughts be ouercrost, 
When pratling fond, can yeeld no true detect, 
Harts sighes, 45 
Eyes teares, 
Must needs throb sorrows, when my minde doth see, 
Duty and loue are quit with iealousie. 
Seeke I to please, he thinkes I flatter then, 
Obedience is a couer for my fault, 50 
When thus he deemes I treade my shoo awrie, 
And going right, he still suspects I halt, 
Harts sighes, 
Eyes teares, 
Must needs throb sorrows, when my minde doth see, 55 
Dutie and loue are quit with iealousie. 
No salue I haue to cure this restlesse soare, 
But sighes to God, to change his iealious minde, 
Then shall I praise him in applauding himns, 
And when the want of this mistrust I finde, 6o 
Harts sighes, 
Eyes teares, 
¥ 2 


Shall cease, and Lord ile onely pray to thee, 
That women neare be wrongd with iealousie. 

His stature tall, large, and hie, 
Lim'd and featur'd beauteouslie, 
Chest was broad armes were strong. 
Lockes of Amber passing long, 
That hung and waued vpon his necke, 
Heauens beautie might they checke. 
Visage faire and full of grace, 
Mild and sterne, for in one place, 
Sate mercie meeklie in his eie: 
And Iustice in his lookes hard by. 
His Roabes of Bisse, were crimsen hew, 
Bordred round with twines of blew: 
In Tyre no richer silke solde, 
Ouer braided all with golde: 
Costly set with pretious stone, 
Such before I neere saw none. 
A massie Crowne vpon his head, 
Checquerd through with Rubies red. 
Orient Pearle and bright Topace, 
Did burnish out each valiant place. 
Thus this Prince that seemed sage, 
Did goe in royall Equipage. 






Page 17, 3. La,ndes: see note on OrL Fur., I. 505, vol. i. p. 313 . 
5. leisers : i.e 'teasers.' Theword occurs also infra, 1. x267, in this 
sense. Dyce appositely quotes Fuller's Itoly State, p. 66, ed. x642 : 
' But these teazers rather to rouse than pinch the game, onely ruade 
Whitaker find his spirits. The fiercest dog is behind, even Bellarmine 
6. merry Fresinçfleld. Fressingfield is a village in the hundred 
of Hoxne in the county of Suffolk, and is some 4 toiles SSE. from 
Harleston. Greene's picture of the place was evidently drawn from 
intimate knowledge. 
17. stammell, spelt also «stamel,' stammel,' and «stamell,' a varia- 
tion of ' stamin,' was a kind of coarse woollen cloth used for making 
petticoats. See Babees Book, ed. Furnivall, p. 248 : ' In sommer use 
to were a scarlet petycoat ruade of stamell or lynse wolse.' So in 
A Pleasant Comedie of Iasquil and tVatl«arine, il. I. 7 : ' Mistress 
Smiffe... hath newly put on her stammell petticoate.' « A red stamell 
petticoat and a broad strawne hat' are noted as the dress of a country 
haymaker in Deloney's tleasanl Ifislory of Thomas of eadinç. See 
Fairholt's Costume in ngland, ii. 379- Stammel was usually red; 
indeed the word was actually used as a naine for the colour implied by 
it. Of this the Century lPictionary gives two illustrations. ' Karsies 
of ail orient colours, especially of stamel,' Hakluyt, Voyages, i. 440, and 
' The Violets purple, the sweet Roses stammell, 
The Lillie's SHOW,' &c. 
Sylvester,/)u Bartas, i. 3. 
1. amort or alamort: dejected, disconsolate, or depressed, is a very 
favourite word with the Elizabethan dmmatists, but it was becoming 
obsolete at the beginning of the seventeenth century. 
P. 18, 31. my ca# and my coat, &c. For information about the 
dress of clowns and fools Dr. Ward refers to Douce, ' On the Clowns 
and Fools of Shakespeare,' lll«strations of S/akes#eare, il. 317 seqq. 
36. scab. « Scab' is a common terre of contempt. The lotus classi- 
eus for it may be said to be in iMiddleton's A A'Iad l/Vor/d my A[aslers, 
iii. 2: 'In. You may see I met with a scab, Sir. ten. . Diversa 
genera scabierum, as Pliny reports, there are divers kinds of scabs. 
In. Pray, let's hear 'em Sir. ten. t. An itching scab, that is your 

326 NOTES 
harlot; a sore scab, your usurer ; a running scab, your promoter; 
a broad scab, your intelligencer ; but a white scab, that's a scald knave 
and a pander.' 
89. liuely. All the Quartos read 'lively,' but Dyce conjectures 
'lovely,' perhaps rightly, for it is a very favourite word of Greene's, 
occurring in this one play no less than twenty-seven times. 
60. A[arffariles : see note on Orl. Fur., vol. i. p. 306. 
I:L 19, 61. cleues: ' cleve' means properly a steep sloping ground, 
the steep side of a hill, cliff. For illustrations see N.E.D. sub voce. 
67. taint : ' taint ' (French leinl, from the Latin tinctus) is exactly 
equivalent to «tint' ; the derived verb is frequently used in the sense 
of  tinge' or imbue. Cf. Greene's Arcadia (Works, ri. 86, 97) : ' Tainted 
his cheeks with a vermilion die' ; ' Her cheekes tainted with a blush 
of disgrace.' 
78. As Pallace, &c. There is some propriety in this simile, 
because Pallas was the goddess of ' huswiferie,' as "EpTŒvÇ, one of the 
names under which she was worshipped, implies ; but whether the pT« 
"AOÇv«I comprehended more than the arts and trophies of spinning 
and weaving it would be difficult to say. 
80. run ber cheese:  to run ber cheese,' a phrase occurring three 
times in this play, 11. 8o, I47,638, means to make ber cheese, or rather 
the constituents of it, properly coagulate ; the verb represents the 
M.E. rennen, causative of O.E. ffe-rinnan (intr.) to coagulate (cf. 
rennet). CL Cheyne, quoted in Johnson's Diclionary, sub voce: 
' What is raised in the day settles in the night, and its cold runs t.he 
rhin juices into thick sizy substances.' 
96. Niffromancer: see note on l. 762. 
1 . 9.0, 109. 2#rease: «prease' is a very common form of press,' 
both substantive and verb, in the English of the fourteenth, fifteenth, 
and sixteenth centuries. 
110. 2Mackerd: this word, generally written 'placket,' is common 
in the Elizabethan writers, and meant properly some portion of a 
petticoat, but was also used (as here) for ' placket-hole,' a word still in 
dialectal use for a slit or opening in the petticoat, giving access to 
the pocket. 
11. 2#ollicie: see note on Orl. Fur., 1. 308, vol. i. p. 3o. 
1:'. 9.1, 188. ]tarlston : Harleston is a parish in the hundred of Stow, 
four and a half toiles from Fressingfield. Dr. Ward notes that a fait 
is held there on July 5, but that St. James's Day is on the 25th of that 
141. T]tal corne o see, &c. : an obvious reminiscence of Ovid, Ars 
Amatoria, i. 99 : ' Spectatum veniunt, veniunt spectentur ut ipsae.' 
145. Coat/zim : for other examples of' cote ' in the sense ' to pass 
by, go beyond ; to outstrip, surpass,' see N.E.D. 
166. morris dance : Dyce conjectures ' dancer' for ' dance' ; the 

correction seems probable, though morris-dance might mean he was 
one in whom love capered as he pleased. Cf. T]w ttoff hat lost ]ds 
Pearle, i. I : ' He is a gentleman whom it pleased Fortune to lnake 
her tennis-ball of.' The morris dance (etymologically 'Moorish 
dance'), also called 'morisco,' was a prominent feature in English 
popular festivities down to the seventeenth century. It was performed 
by a company of men in fantastic costumes, representing various 
characters; the ' Morisco' or Moor had bells attached to his dress. 
See Second Part of ttenry VI, iii. I. 364-6: 
' I have seen 
t-lim caper upright like a wild Morisco, 
Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells.' 
t'. 9.9., 178. dostissime for doctissime, and ha3itares for ha3itare in 
1. 175, may be intentional blunders, but they are more probably mere 
misprints, like Altulisti nos for Attulistin" in I. I74. 
175. Ecce ¢uam 3anum : a parody, as Dr. Ward observes, of the 
tirst verse of Psalm cxxxiii, li3ros being ludicrously substituted for 
186. tiramande, or divination by tire, was one of the commonest 
forms of magic. For full information on these points Dr. Ward refers 
to the I4Zaowr3uch (Scheible, 2ç'losler, iii. II 5 seqq.), and the treatise 
'On the species of Ceremonial Magic called Goetie,' by Georg Pictor 
of Villingen. 
ttadramaticke is a blunder for 'hydromanticke' (as if Gr. 
poVavrt) , a synonym of hydromancy, i. e. divination by water. Of 
hydromancy, Auerhan in the I4zaffner3uc]* (Scheible, Ilasler, iii), 
quoted by Dr. Ward, says: 'In this you conjure the spirits into 
water : there they are constrained to show themselves as Marcus Varro 
testitieth when he writeth how he had seen a boy in the water who 
announced to him in a hundred and tifty verses the issue of the 
Mithridatic War.' 
188. Aeramancie was divination from the air. Pictor, as quoted 
by Dr. Ward, says : ' If the wind blew from the East it signified good 
fortune ; iffrom the VCest evil ; calamity from the South ; disclosure of 
what is secret from the North ; if the wind blew from ail quarters at the 
saine time, it signified storm, hail, and violent rain.' 
189. #laine: the use of' plain' as an active verb to make plain 
has long been obsolete, but it was common in out older writers. 
Dr. Ward compares Shaks. terides, Prol. to Act iii. I4: 'What's 
dumb in show l'll plain with speech.' The reading of Q, 'plaine 
out,' is probably correct : cf. the modern ' to straighten out.' 
. 9., 05. mather 14Zaters: among the many ale-wives whose names 
have been recorded by the Elizabethan writers I can find no Mother 
Waters, and am inclined to think it must be a misprint for Watkins, 
who is offen referred to. In Queen Elizabeth's Virginal aalë in the 

328 NOTES 
Fitzwilliam Museum at Cambridge there is the tune to an old song 
entitled : 
'A ditty delightful of 2Wother 14/'atkin's aie 
A warning well weyed, though counted a tale.' 
So Chettle, I(iml-t-larls Dream, ed. Rimbault, p. 5 : ' The lascivious 
undersongs of Iffatkns tle, the Carmans whistle, the Choping kniues,' 
&c. Chettle also alludes toit in a letter (with the signature T. N. to 
his good friend A. M.) prefixed to Munday's translation of Gerileon 
of Enffl«d: ' I should hardly be persuaded that any professor of so 
excellent a science of printing would be so impudent to print such 
odious and lascivious ribaudrie as f/'«tkins tle: I only of-fer this as 
a conjecture; possibly there may have been some ale-wife known as 
Mother ,Vaters. 
218. 2Wake storming toreas. Compare with this passage ifi'a, 
1. I537 seqq. These are the ordinary achievements of classical and 
mediaeval magicians. Cf. what Prospero says, Te»@esl, v. . 41 : 
' I bave bedimm'd 
The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds, 
And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault 
Set roaring war.' 
222. Pentaeron: this is one of several blundered forms (perhaps 
mere misprints) for boztaonon. The pentagonon, also called penta- 
gramma or pentalpha, was a mystic figure pentagonal in shape, pro- 
duced by prolonging the sides of a regular pentagon till they intersect 
one another, thus :-- 

It was a very anclent sign, being employed by the Pythagoreans as 
a salutation at the head of letters, and as a symbol of health. See 
the Scholiast on Aristophanes, 2Vubes, 599 (following Lucian, tro 
La2bsu in Sahtlando, 5): IlXdrov vrot iv àp rv d,roX&v rb eU 
èXpoeo  bTeta p;ç ar oç«ro. In Germany it vas known as the 
' Drudenfuss' (from rude or ru& a witch), and in the Middle Ages 
it was supposed to be a protection from ghosts and vitches ; and as 
late as the last centu it was sometimes painted on cradles to protect 
babies and young children from the influence of evil spirits. The 
passage in Goethe's Fust (Part I. 1. 393) where Mephistopheles is 
perplexed by it will be familiar : 


' 2Iebhis. Gesteh' ich's nur! dass ich hinausspaziere, 
Verbietet mit ein kleines Hinderniss, 
Der Drudenfuss auf Eurer Schwelle-- 
taust. Das Pentagramma macht dir Pein ?' 
227. telcebhon. In the wilderness of magical literature this naine 
may exist somewhere, and is hardly likely to have been coined by 
Greene. As Mr. Fleay has pointed out, it has evidently some relation 
to the place-naine Baal-zephon (Vulgate teelsebhon), mentioned in 
Exodus xiv. 2 and Numbers xxxiii. 7- 
234. The bra«en alles, &c. See Herodotus, i. 184 and iii. 155. 
That the walls built by Semiramis were of brass is a bold invention of 
Greene. Aristophanes, Arcs, 55I, 552; Ovid, Met. iv. 58; Juvenal, 
x. I7I; Strabo, xvi. I. 5, describe the walls as of brick. Greene has 
evidently confounded the walls with the gates. 
237. Rie. Of Rye in Sussex there is this lively description by 
Nash, Lenten Stuffe (Grosart's Nash, v. 243): 'Rie is one of the 
ancient townes belonging to the Cinque Ports, yet limpeth cinque ace 
behinde Yarmouth ... and to stand threshing no longer about it Rie 
is Ry and no more but Rie and Yarmouth wheate compared with it.' 
la. 9.4, 244. 3Iathemaliclee rules: cf. 11. 484 and 493. The term 
'mathematicke' was frequently applied to astronomy and astrology; 
so in Latin mathemalici and Iathesis are used respectively for mathe- 
maticians and mathematics in the comprehensive sense of the terre, 
and for astrologers and astrology. So Peele in The Honour of the 
Gaffer, Ad Maecenatem Prologus, speaks of Mathesis as: 
'That admirable, mathematic skill 
Familiar with the stars and zodiac 
To whom the heaven lies open as her book.' 
247. roues. 'Rove' is a terre in archery meaning to shoot an 
arrow, not point blank, but with an elevation; it was called also 
shooting at rovers. Sec Nares and Halliwell for illustrations. 
260. #ickbacke. Explained by Nares and Halliwell as the older 
form of ' pick-a-back,' i.e. carried like a pack over the shoulders--he 
will be ' at you' or on your shoulders. 
1 a. 9.b, 299. uesse. This form of the plural of guest is not uncom- 
mon. Dyce quotes Chamberlayne, Pharonnida, 13k. iv. canto iii. 53 : 
' The empty tables stood, for never guess 
Came there except the bankrupts whom distress 
Spurr'd on.' 
And cf. t?t@t, ues and his tngland (ed. ]3ond, ii. p. I5O): 'Guesses 
and fish say we in Athens are euer stale within three dayes.' So 
Webster, Cure for a Cuckold, v.  : ' My daughter's honest, and rny 
oeuess [here, if the text be correct, used for the singu]ar] is a noble 
fellow,' and Dowzfall of Robert larl of ttuntinffton, sig. H. 4 : 

33 ° NOTES 
' We had no ffuess 
And have of meates so many a messe.' 
P. 27, 348. good ctzeaibe is ata low price, à bon marché. Cheap 
was originally a substantive meaning ' barter' or ' price.' The present 
use of ' cheap' as an adjective (shortened from ' good cheap') has hot 
been round before the sixteenth century. See Skeat and 2V. '. Z). for 
the history of the word and illustrations. 
351. co2be. ' Cope' is purchase or exchange; the verb is commoner 
than the substantive. The verb is from the Low German kO23en (Dutch 
kaaen), corresponding to the Old English cêa23ian to trade, bargain, 
buy (whence the obsolete verb to cheap). Dr. Ward quotes the ' Song 
of Conscience ' in Uke Three Zadies of Zozdoz : 
' Have you .... 
Powch-ringes or buskins 
To COlle for new broom.' 
The substantive, which first appears in the middle of the sixteenth 
century, is probably formed from the verb, though Low German had 
k6 (modern Dutch koo2b). 
359. 19hoebus is blylhe. This is another illustration of Greene's 
pseudo-mythology; as Dr. Ward remarks, it was not Phoebus, but 
Jupiter, who courted Semele. 
1:'. 9.8, 383. teckles. Beccles is a market town and parish in the 
hundred of Wangford in the county of Suffolk, on the south side of 
the river Waveney which bounds it on the north and west. It was 
originally part of the possessions belonging to the monastery of Bury 
St. Edmunds. 
393. you forffet your sel)Ce. The Quartos assign these words to 
Margaret ; Dyce and Ward give them to Lacy. 
405. hild#tg. The derivation of this word is uncertain ; N.E.D. 
suggests the old verb hield,' to bend downwards, sink. In any 
case it means a base, worthless wretch, and is applied to both sexes. 
411. inffray. Sec note on OrL t;ur., 1. 54% vol. i. p. 34- 
1 . 9.9, 442. And venture, &c. : this line is very awkward, both as 
being an Alexandrine and because of the repetition ' through the deep.' 
Dyce proposes to read 'And venture as Agenor's damsel did'" 
Agenor's damsel was Europa. Cf. Greene's Arcadia (Works, vi. 76) : 
'Thus feeding on the delicacy of their features I should like the 
Tyrian heyfer fall in love witlt Agenor's darling: 
1 . 80, 453. counterfeit. ' Counterfeit' is from the French contre- 
faire, and is the common word for a portrait, but it also means a false 
coin and a base-born child, ' a slip' ; and puns on this double sense are 
not uncommon, as in Ro»t«o a¢dJuliet, ii. 4- 52 : ' Z'o». What couzter- 
feit did I give you ? 3ler. The slip, Sir, the slip' ; Ben Jonson, Mag- 
tetic Lady, iii. 4 : ' Had the slip slurred on me a counterfeit' ; Evey 

[an in his ttumoz«r, ii. 3 : ' Let the world think me a bad counterfeit, 
if I cannot give him the slip.' For other illustrations see Dodsley's 
Old tlays, vol. v. 396, ed. 178o. 
4.58. 2Done: Dyce queries ' shewn,' but no alteration is needed. 
Z)anas : the French form of ' Damascus'; but Edward, as Dr. 
Ward remarks, never fought before Damascus. 
464. Freningha»t. Framlingham is a market town in the hundred 
of Loes, county Suffolk, situated on an eminence hOt far from the 
sources of the Ore. The narne, Dr. Ward observes, is locally pro- 
nounced ' Fromingham.' 
466. f-Iamlon bouse. If this be a reference to Hampton Court 
Palace, as it appears to be, itis of course an anachronism. ' Hampton 
Court was hOt a royal residence till Cardinal Wolsey, who had built 
it, exchanged it with Henry VIII for Richmond' (Dr. \Vard). 
471. wilL ' Will' in the sense of ' to require' or ' command' is 
very common : cf. Thomas Lord Cromwell, iii. 2 : ' And wills you send 
the pessant that you have' ; Edw. 111, iii. I :  And likewise will him 
with our own allies.., to solicit ' ; Fair tnt, sc. 15 : ' Therefore by me 
He willeth thee to send his daughter Blanche.' 
t'. 31, 489. evoonder Vander»tast. Dyce proposes to change 
'wonder' into ' wondrous,' but there is no reason for the change. 
' Wonder' is habitually used in early English for the adjective, as in 
Chaucer, see Second N«tn's Tale, 3o8: 'Methinketh that it were a 
wonder dede' ; lllan of Zaev's Tale, lO45 : ' This evonder chaunce ' ; 
Pardoner's Tale, 891: ' Wonder signes of empoisoning,' and so 
habitually : itis probably tobe explained by the resolution of com- 
pounds like A.S. evundor-eveorc, 'wonder-work,' miracle; cf. also 
comrnon appositive employment of substantives for adjectives, like 
bellator eçuus and c]tarta anus in Latin. (For abundant illustration 
of it in Elizabethan English, see Abbott's Shakeslkearian GraJttar 
§ 43o.) Elze, being apparently unaware of this, proposes in his Notes 
ou Elizabethan i)ramatists, p. 28, to read either ' wonder'd '--quoting 
in support Te»est, iv. I. 123,  SO rare a wonder'd father'--or ' wander'd,' 
quoting Irenry Vl11, 'out travell'd gallants.' Vandennast appears to 
be a fictitious personage. Dr. ,Vard says that he has hOt been able to 
trace any notice of a Dutch rnagician or scholar of that naine, and I 
have not been more successful. 
497. Whilst. 'Whilst' or ' while' in the sense of until is very 
frequent. Cf. btfra, 1. 1413: 'Be doubtful, while I haue debated xvith 
my selfe ' ; also Never too Late (Works, viii. 35) : 'Are you so idle tasked 
that you stand upon thornes er]file you have a husband.' Dr. Ward 
very happily cites from Masson's Lire of lIilton, vol. v. p. 94, a sen- 
tence upon a blasphemer in Scotland who was condemned 'tobe hanged 
on a gibbet while he be dead' ; so in Zookitoe Glasse, 1.775 : ' You shall 
drink while your skin crack.' It became obsolete in this sense, so far as 

332 NOTES 
literary use is concerned, towards the end of the seventeenth century, 
but is still common in dialects. 
505. thé IlA of Eely, like Sarnm Plain, seems to have been a 
favourite place for fattening geese. Drayton, Polyol. xxi, notices 
the 'abundant store' of the fish and fowl there bred. 
I'. I., 516. gutti..  Cutter' was a tant word for a swaggerer, 
bully, or bravo. Cotgrave translates cutter by alafreux, tailleras, 
fe»deur de taseaux, and Coles defines a cutter as gladiator, latro, so 
'cutting' was the exercise of these professions. See Nares and 
Halliwell, who quote in illustration Beaumont and Fletcher, Scornfid 
Lady, v. 4: ' You. Lov. He's turn'd gallant. £1. Love. Gallant ? 
Fou. Love. Ay, gallant, and is now called Cutti»g Morecraft' ; cf. too 
Gabriel Harvey of Greene's disreputable comrade, Ball : ' His employ- 
ing of Ball surnamed Cuttilzge Ball, till he was intercepted at Tyburne,' 
Four Lelters, p. 9- Dekker, Seven l?eadly 5ïns of Lo,zdon, No*a- 
JDra**t. lgorks, ed. Grosart, vol. iv. p. 66, speaks of' trimming this cutter 
of Queene Hith.' Among the dramalis 15ersonae of Ben Jonson's 
i9artlwlomew Fait is Val Cutting, a roarer or buIly.' 
537. Coihîer-Smitkes hall. Cf. Looki»ff Glasse, I. 2or : His nose 
was ... so set with rubies that after his death it should, haue been 
nailed vp in Cofl2bersmiths tt«ll.' I can find no mention of any such 
institution either in London or Oxford, nor was there any such guild 
as the Coppersmiths among the City Companies. The phrase was no 
doubt a joke--a play on the word suggested by gold and Goldsmiths' 
Hall, Coppersmiths' Hall being facetiously put for a tavern, where 
copper »oses are coined ; cf. Nash, /t)rognosticatio» (Grosart's Nask, 
vol. ii. 65 ) : 'The knights of Co2b2bersmitk's hap to doo great deedes 
of arms upon Cuppes, Cannes, pots, glasses, black jacks.' Cf. 
Middleton's l?lack t?ook, Prologue, ' Gilded nosed usurers, base metall'd 
handers to cobber cabtains.' Cf. First Part of Henry lU, iii. 3. 89, 
where Falstaff says of Bardolf: ' What call you rich ? let them coin 
gs »ose, let them coin kis cheek: My interpretation is borne out by 
the present passage : ' Where is Brazennose CoIledge ? Not far from 
Copper-Smithes hall.' Allusions to the copper nose of the drunkard 
are very common in our old writers. Cf. Troihts and Cressida, i. 2. 
 2: I had as lier Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for 
a copper »ose.' See too supra, 1. 2o 5 : ' Mother Waters strong aie 
will fit his turne to make him haue a cot2ber »ose: 
548. Gogs wou»ds .t A very common form of oath among the 
vulgar ; cf. Farewell fo Folly (Works, ix. 228) : ' I cannot.., rap out 
gog's wounds in a taverne.' In Greegs Ghost, ed. HaIliweIl, p. 39, 
Sire Swashbuckler and Captain Gogswounds are the names of two 
tavern bullies. 
P. I2, 559. ligkt fingered. ' Light-fingered gentlemen' is still 
a phrase for pick-pockets. Dr. "Fard quotes the Interlude of IVice 

Wanton : ' Your son is suspect light-fingered to be' ; cf. too Defence 
of Conny-Catchin (Works, xi. 97) : ' A Woman's Taylor... noted for 
his filchinge, which although he was lifhtflnferd,' &c. In the present 
passage the word is used in the more general sense 'nilnble of his 
673. Fastfandecl. Tied by fancy which, as generally, signifies love. 
I . 84, 88. col/ede state. The state or estate of the college. 
604. glasse ibrosî3ectiue is a glass which reflects magically that 
which is still in the future, or that which is at a distance; here, as 
what ensues shows, it has the latter meaning. Bacon's ' magie glass' 
seems, as Dr. Ward observes, to be a combination in the popular 
mind of the camera obscura, burning glass, and teleseope, which he 
is supposed to have invented or used. Cf. the description of the 
perspicil in Albumazar, i. 3 : 
"T will draw the moon so near, that you would swear 
The bush of thorns in't pricks your eyes; the crystal 
Of a large arch multiplies millions, 
Works more than by point blank, and by refractions 
Optic and strange searcheth like the eye of truth, 
Ail closets that have windows. Have at P, ome, 
I sec the Pope, his cardinals, and his mule, 
The English College, and the Jesuits, 
And what they write and do.' 
615. blacke flots. It would seem from a passage in Heywood, 
Love's Alistress (Works, ed. Pearson, vol. v. I I4), that 'black pot' 
means a jug or vessel of some kind: 'Now should I be in love with 
whom ? With Doll, what's that but dole and lamentation ; with Jug, 
what's she but sister to a black-flot ?' (Cf. 'black jack,' a leather 
drinking vessel coated externally with tar.) Relurnefrom Parnassus, 
il. 826, quoted by Dr. Ward, ' If Elderton were alive to heare his blacke 
potts should put on mourning appareil,' this Elderton being a noted 
drunkard. Dr. Ward thinks that it is an allusion to the black caps of 
the masters and scholars, and this he supports by a reference to the 
passage, infra, 1.871 :  Doctors, whose doting night caps are not capable 
ofmy ingenious dignitie.' But it is more likely a reference to the speaker's 
exploits in the pot-houses or taverns. 
S.D. t¢acon and Fdward, &c. ' Here, after the exit of Warren and 
Ermsby, &c., and after Bacon and Edward had walked a few paces 
about (or perhaps towards the back of) the stage, the audience were 
to suppose that the scene was changed to the interior of t3acon's cell ' 
(Dyce, On lac Elizabelhan Z)ramalisls). 
617. te»trier in Greene has three meanings (I) to fashion by 
heating, as here and in Orl. Fur. 1.496 : 
'Where sits Tisiphone, temî3rin in-flames 
Those torches that do set on tire Reuenge'; 

334 NOTES 

(2) to mariage, as infra, 1. 2069 : 
« Mine Art, 
Which once I le»zTred in my secret Cell'; 
and in Alllzonsus, 1. 1529 : 
'Long time Dame Fortune lem#red so her wheele 
As that there was no vantage to be seene' &c. ; 
(3) to nfix or mingle, as itfra, l. I394 : 
' Vehose beautie, lepitlkered with her huswifrie ' ; 
so to temper wine with water as frequently. 
1:'. 8,5, S.D. Dyce thinks that the curtain which concealed the upper 
stage was here withdrawn discovering Margaret and Bungay standing 
there, and that when the representation in the glass was supposed to 
be over the curtain was drawn back alain. 
Trier unffay. Greene's Friar ]Tungay, or rather the 13ungay 
of the original romance, stands in the saine relation to the real 
13ungay as the Friar lTacon stands to the real Bacon. Thomas 
]Tungay, ' Frater Thomas Bongaye,' was a distinguished Franciscan 
schoolman who studied and taught both at Oxford and Cambridge 
contemporarily vith Bacon. In the Regisrum Fratrum Afinorum 
he is mentioned as one of the Provincial Ministers of the Order in 
England, and it is stated that he was buried at Northampton. For 
naore about him see Brewer's 2lçonumenta Franciscana and 1)ici. 
ofWat. ,Bio. For his association with Bacon as a brother magician 
see the romance. Ben Jonson, Tale ofa Tztb, ii. I, refers to his familiar, 
the dol : ' A man must carry and vetch Like Bungy's dol for you.' 
See, too, 13utler's I, fudibras Part III. canto iii. 741-2 : ' Your surest 
way is first to pitch On Bongay for a water witch.' 
628. brioeg-some. AIl the Quartos read 'bright-sunne.  Dyce's 
correction seems certain. 
647. to shadow, &c. : this is very obscurely expressed. ' Shadow' 
in Greene has two senses, to disguise or conceal, as in Plategomackia 
(Works, v. 85) : ' Could shadow the darke colours of revenge with the 
glistering hue of reconciled amity,' and to sketch, so 'shadows' for 
portraits ; Euîbhues his Censure (Works, vi. 283) : ' It is but a shadow 
drawne with a pensell'; and Fareeoell to Follie (Works, ix. 248): 
"Apelles boyes aimed at selfe love for iinding colours for their maisters 
shadowes'; but here it seems to have the meaning of foreshadow, 
so that the sense would be ' his beauty, like that of Paris is such that it 
may well justify us in anticipating a tape of Helen.' 
1:'. ô, 688. ne'er gke neare : see note on )rames I 1. 56. 
P. 7, 700. Loue ought fo creel3e , &c. For the sentiment see 
Greene's Arcadia (Works, vi. 63) : ' Knowe that Venus standeth on 
the Tortoys, as shewing that love creepeth on by degrees . . . the 
sonne shadows, but the motien is hot seene ; love like these should 
enter into the eye and by long gradations passe into the heart ' ; and 

cf. Euibhues and his l?nffland (ed. Bond, il. p. 176) : ' The tongue of 
a louer should be like the poynt on the Diall which though it go none 
can see it going.' 
701. loo loo soone : see note on Alibhonsus, 1. 1336. 
705. No, 1Trier : v]tal newes . Dyce assigns this speech to Lacy, 
but all the Quartos give it to Margaret, and as it makes good sense 
I do hot airer. 
1:'. 88, 746. Tvaere a lonff #oinard, &c. Dyce queries whether this 
be a prose speech or a corrupted verse ; it is probably two Alexandrines. 
751. #orlace. This word, also spelt 'porthors,' 'porte-hors,' 
' portass,' ' portus,' 'portasse,' ' portise,' ' portesse,' ' porteous,' 'porthose,' 
' portuas,' means a portable breviary, or book of prayers, Lat.#orlorium 
or#ortiforium. The derivation is seen most clearly in the fonll ' port- 
hors' or 'porte-hors,' carry abroad. See Skeat's note on Chaucer's 
Shiibmannes Tale (Group B I32I), and Nares and Halliwell, sub voce. 
To the illustrations there given add Grim the Collier, i. I ." « Arm'd with 
my borfasse, bidding of my beades' ; Look About You, sc. xxv : ' The 
hermit's ibortesse, garments and his beades' ; and l?ovanfall of Robert 
Earl ofttuntington, iv. 2 : ' Nor have I any power to look On portass 
and on lnatin book.' 
755. hand-fast: to hand-fast is properly to betroth. Coverdale's 
The Christian State of 3[atrimony, published in 1543, contains the 
following passage : ' Every man lykewyse must esteme the parson to 
whom he is handfasted none otherwyse than for his owne spouse, 
though as yet it be not done in the Church ner in the Streate.' The 
ceremony was sometimes performed by placing a double ring upon 
the fingers of the betrothed couple. Ben Jonson, in a note on his 
3Iasque of I-tymen, says : ' Auspices were those that hand-fasted the 
married couple, that wished them good luck,' &c. See Nares and 
Hallivell, sub voce. Also the commentators on Measurefor A[easure, 
i. 3. 27 ; Cymbeline, i. 5- 28 ; Twelfth Night, v. 155-64 ; Tem2best, iv. 
1.13 • 
1:'. 0, 762. niffromansie : this should properly be ' necromancy,' as 
Dyce prints, but the form ' nim-omancy' or ' neg'romancy ' was derived 
directly from the mediaeval vriters, who gave the form niffro- 
man:ia because they confounded the Greek u«poi with 'nigri' or 
black spirits. So in a Vocabulary dated 1475, cited by Trench, 
Enlish 19ast and tgresenl, p. 3o6, we find: 'Nigromancia dicitur 
divinatio facta per niffros: See suibra, 1. 95, ' he is a braue Nigro- 
mancer,' and 1. 225, ' straine out Nigromancie to the deepe ' ; for the 
other form see Greene's Vision (Works, xii. 58): ' I having some 
skill in Negromancie.' Cf. Selimus, 1. 1627, He may by divellish 
Negromancie procure my death,' and one of these two forms it gener- 
ally has in the Elizabethan writers. So out ' black art' and the 
German Schwarze 2Uunst. 

336 NOTES 
764. For mumlinÆ. « For' was often used after verbs implying 
hindrance, when we should now sa¥ 'from': see V.E.D., vol. 
778. I haue stroo, &c. Dyce proposes to correct the metre by 
thus arranging: 
I have struck him dumb, my lord; and if you please 
l'll fetch this Bungay straight from Fressingfield.' 
1 a. 0, 793. '[ees with his lonny lasse, &c. Dyce supposes that 
some xvord or words are wanting; there is no reason for supposing 
this ; it is merely an octosyllabic line. 
S.D. t?egenl-house. The Regent-house was the house where the 
Regents met, in other words, the House of Congregation. 
806. Almain: Almain is the common Elizabethan terre for 
German,' as Almains' are Germans : Lat..41amanni and French 
88. hoM... lay : see note on Orland. _/ur., 1. o.uS, vol. i. p. u29. 
• la. 41, 887. roEers : a ruffler is a common terre for a cheating buily, 
a lawless or violent person; so ruffle,' to bluster. For illustrations 
see Nares and Halliwell. 
841. doctor turden, &c. It is needless to say that these verses 
are Skeltonical, such Skeltonisms being very common in the Eliza- 
bethan dramatists. They abound in Te 1)ea[h, and in Te 1)ownfall, 
of Robert tïarl q Huntigton, where they are described as « ribble 
rabble rhymes Skeltonical,' and where Skelton is introduced. 
lurden : other forms ' lourden,' ' lurdane,'  lurdein' (from the 
Old French lourdin and modern lourdaud from louraO, a lazy 
heavy fellow. See Nares and Halliwell, and add Greene, 1)ebale 
between Follie and Love (Works, iv. p. o6) : « Instead of some brave 
gentleman I strike upon some filthie lurden' ; Calislo and l[eliboea : 
 Thinkest thou, lurden, thou handlest me fair.' 
846. sheal: this word, unknown to dictionaries, may have been 
put in extemporally by the speaker for the jingle. It may be 
connected, as Professor Skeat has been good enough to inform me, 
with the A.S. scêol, quick, lively, nimble, which might survive pro- 
vincially as sheet with close e, of which sheal might be a loose spelling. 
The sense of' lively ' or ' nimble' would fit here very well. 
la. 49., 870. wht'le sonne : see note on Looking Glasse, I. 1282. 
878.2baulobhles : ' pantables' or pantobles,' loose shoes (French 
antoufle). See lqares and Halliwell, but add that they were a very 
important article of ornament in Elizabethan times. In Massinger, 
Guardian, iii. 4, Calypso speaks  of your pearl embroidered #antofles 
on your feet.' In Stubbes they are distinguished from slippers and 
other foot gear, ' korked shoes, pinsnets, #anloffïes and slippers : some 
of them of black velvet, some of white, some of greene and some of 
yellowe, some of Spanish leather and some ,of English, stitched with 

silk and imbrodered with gold and silver all over the foote'--Anat, of 
Abt«ses (ed. Furnivall, p. 77). It would seem from Lyly's Endittion, 
il. 2, that cork was inserted between the sole and the upper leather 
:;o raise the stature, 'Your Pantables be higher with cork'; and 
,Varner's Albio1¢, ix. ch. xlvii : ' Then wore they shoes of ease, now of 
an inch broad corked high'; see Fairholt's account of a cork shoe 
of the Elizabethan age round in the Thames, Coslu»te in Englatd, 
p. 386. There is apparently an allusion to this in Middleton's tïverie 
I/Vo»tan i,t ber l-lu»tour (ed. ]3ullen in his Collection of Old Plays), 
i. I : 'The truth is the fatal sisters bave eut the thread of ber cork 
shoe and she's stept aside into a Cobler's shop to take a true stitch.' 
887. Zike tYartlets, &c. Dyce prints 'Barclay's': the allusion, 
as he remarks, is to ' The Sky2b of t;olys of the Worlde, translated out 
of Latin, Frenche, and Doche into Englysshe Tongue, by Alexander 
]3arclay, Preste, London by Richarde Pynson, 5o9, folio.' For a full 
account of this work, which is a periphrastic version of the dVarre,tsckiff 
of Sebastian 13rant, see Jamieson's Introduction to his edition of the 
889. Dawcocke, &c. This, as Dyce notes, is an expression 
borrowed from Skelton's Ware t/te Hauke : 
' Construas hoc 
Domine Dawcocke ! ' 
A 'daw' is a common synonym for a simpleton; cf. First Part of 
Hety Vl, ii. 4- I8 : ' Good faith, I ana no wiser than a daw' ; and 
Gentylnes and lVobylyte, Reprint, p. 43 : ' Then rare ye well as vyse 
as two ttawys' ; and Lodge's bVottmles of Civil I/Var, v. 2 : 
'These maids are daus 
That go to the laws 
With a babe in the belly.' 
Cf. too Dekker's Gull's Horn-book (ed. Nott, p. 4) : ' Whether you be 
a fool, or a Justice of Peace, a cuckold . . . or a dawcocke, a knave,' 
&c., and Adbdbius atd Viritia, Dodsley, ed. Hazlitt, vol. iv. p.  19 : 
' When you, goodman dawcock, lust for to wend.' 
895. t?ocardo: ' the naine of the prison in the old north gate of 
the city of Oxford, pulled down in 77I ' (1V.tï.D.). It is the technical 
naine for one of the moods of the third syllogistic figure; the difficulty 
of reducing it to the first figure being proverbial among students of 
logic, it is possible that the prison got its naine from this mood, the 
one being as hard to get out of as the other. It was afterwards 
employed generally as a synonym for a gaol. Middleton, Family of 
£ove, i. 3, speaks of something 'which is filthier than the inside of 
13ocardo.' See Nares and Halliwell for further illustrations. 
1 z'. 48, 910. tarle of Stssex. Dyce's correction for' Essex.' Ermsby 
is a trisyllable. 
1:'. 44, 948. tteibhestion : see Plutarch, Lire of AlexaIMer, ch. xlvii, 

338 NOTES 

where Alexander, distingulshing between Craterus and Hephaestion, 
called the one çbXoBao'X«;« and the other 
1 a. 4[i, 976. Sethin blanks : there can be little doubt that ' Sethin 
planks' are Shittim planks, Shittim wood (ligna Selim, Vulgate) 
being the wood out of which the Ark of the Covenant was ruade ; see 
Exodus xxv. lO. This is the interpretation suggested by Dr. Ward. 
It is confirmed by the description of the wood. Cf. Greene's Mela- 
morbhosis (Works, ix. 75): 'The Sethim wood will never be eaten 
with wormes' ; and ]Vee/er tao Late (Works, viii. 40) :  The Sethin 
wood [is tryed] by the hardness.' 
980. Like Thel's. With this passage cf. Greene's Arcadia (Works, 
ri. 36) : ' Whereon resting himself on a hill that over-peered the great 
A[editerraeum, noting how Phoebus fetched his Lavallos on the 
purple Plaines of 2Velunus, as if he had meant to have courted 
Thetis in the royaltie of his roabes: the Dolphines (the sweete 
Conceipters of Musicke) fetched their carreers on the calmed waves 
as if Arion had touched the stringes of his silver sounding instrument.' 
For Lavoltas see note on Poems, lx. 20. 
992. tired: i.e.  attired ' ; Dyce's certain conjecture for the read- 
ings of the Quartos. The fancy here is really poetical. Dyce 
compares for Phoebus's ' lodge,' Romeo andJuliet, iii. OE. I 
'Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, 
Towards Phoebus' lodging.' 
998. Ablata causa, &c. : 'when the cause is removed the effect is 
removed ' ; a formula in logic often familiarly alluded to in Elizabethan 
la. 43, 106. Who at Damasco, &c. Edward was never at Damascu 
nor, as Peele represents him to have been, at Jerusalem. 
la. 47, 1060. evhose conCuesl is as ffreat, &c. Dr. Ward very 
pertinentIy compares Lyly, Cambase (ed. Bond), v. 4. 146: 'Alex. 
How now Hephestion, is Alexander able to resiste loue as he list ? 
The conquering of Thebes was hot so honourable as the subdueing of 
these thoughts. Alex. It were a shame AIexander should desire to 
commaund the world, if he could hot commaund himselfe.' 
1063. Asfiatia. This Aspasia was the daughter of Hermotimus 
and her naine is said to have been Milto till Cyrus changed it into 
that ofthe famous mistress of Pericles : she was the favourite concubine 
of Cyrus, who called her ' The Wise.' After the death of Cyrus she 
became the wife of Artaxerxes, see Plutarch, tericles, xxiv; Arlaxerxes 
xxvi ; but especially 2Elian, V. H. xii. 1, who tells a very pretty story 
about her and gives also an elaborate description of her. 
1:'. 't8, 1091. batlinff: see i, zfra, I. I47, 'Whose tallinffpastures 
fatneth ail my flockes.' Battle' is another form of batten, and is 
usually written either 'battil' or ' battel' ; it is both active and in- 
transitive, to make fat or to grow fat ; cf. Spenser, F. Q. vi. viii. 38: 

"For sleepe they sayd would make her battill better.' So Cotgrave 
bas « to battle, or get flesh, rendre clair." For the active use see 
lay's Proverbs: «Ashes are a marvellous improvement to attle 
barren land.' 
laid: for laden'; the particip[al inflection was often dropt in 
Early English and in the Elizabethan writers. See Abbott, Shake- 
sea¢an Grammar, § 343. 
1 . z19, 1116. 3Ielcie. Dr. Ward suggests that this means the 
Neoplatonist Porphyry (third century), whose native (Syrian) naine was 
Malchus; but this seems very doubtful. Hermes is Hermes Trisme- 
gistus. For him see, in addition to the article in Smith's Classical 
Didionary, which gives anaple information, Lactantius, /)e Falsd 
teligione, I. vi: 'Hunc Aegyptii Thoth appellant . . . Qui tametsi 
homo fuerit antiquissimus tamen et instructissimus omni genere doc- 
trinae; adeo, ut ei multarum rerum et artium scientia, Trismegisto 
cognomen imponeret. Hic scripsit libros et quidem multos ad coomai- 
tionem divinarum rerum pertinentes in quibus majestatem summi ac 
singularis Dei asserit.' Several of his reputed works were printed in 
the sixteenth century. 
1117-8. te çuadru#licilie Of elemenall essence is of eourse the 
four elements. 
1119. a #undum sçuared la le res! is no doubt rightly explained 
by ]Dr. Ward as ' a mere point when measured by or compared with 
the test.' 
1120. com#asse, as usual with words in which the singular ends 
in s, se, ss, ce and.fie, stands for the plural compasses, that is, sizes; or 
possibly it may be the singular, the verb exceed being in the plural 
through attraction. 
1129. comaue lallildes: i.e. what is held in the circumference 
of the concave circle of the sun referred to before. 
114. Ind ltose srange, &c. Dyce thinks that something has 
dropt out here ; it may be so, but the sense is clear. 
1137. Iermes callel Terrae fllii. There is the same technical 
allusion in Ben Jonson, .Ilcemisl, iv. 1 : ' Corne near my worshipful 
boy, my Zerrae flli.' For an account of geomancy see Scheible's 
Kl¢sler, iii. 12o-2, a quotation from which is given in ]Dr. \Vard's note 
on this passage. 
The best commentary on the tVOl'Op[t , with which Greene is 
here dealing, would be Lactantius, De Origine Erroris, il. 13-19 
fiassim ; Henry More's Intidole affaist Athdsm ; Burton's In«lomy 
ofzIelancdy, Part ]. § 2, Mena. I. Subs. II ; Ennemoser's ttist¢ry af 
Maffic, lassbn. 
1 . iO, 11. Therefore sucer ffrosse and earl]dy sfiirils, &c. : for 
this cf. Lactantius, Z)e Oriç. Error. il. 16 : « Eorum (i.e. daemonum) 
inventa sunt astrologia et aruspicina et auguratio et ipsa quae 
z 2 

340 NOTES 
dicuntur oracula, et necromantia, et ars magica, et quicquid praeterea 
ma]orum exercent homines ve] palam vel occulte.' 
1168. ttesfierides: see note on Or/'./rut., 1. 56, vol. i. p. 305. 
This conjuring up of trees, orchards, gardens, vineyards, animals, 
and the like, was among the common feats of mediaevaI conjurers or 
'tregetours' as Chaucer calls them; cf. t;rankdeyt's Tale, II42-52. 
The scene in Auerbach's Cellar in Goethe's t;aust wiI1 be familiar to 
every one. 
1:'. bg, 1216. tak. . . the folle : cf. First Part Henry VI, v. 3. 23 : 
' Before that England gicle the Frenck thefoil' ; and Edw. III, iii. 1 : 
' My gracious sovereign France hatl ta'en thefdl.' So give thefoil, 
cf. Greene's [etamorhosis (Works, ix. 59) : ' ShaI1 fancy give thee the 
foile at the first dash' ; and 'ut thefoyle; 'Putting the Spaniards to 
the foyle,' Sanis]t l«squerado (Works, v. 82). See _iV. '. D., sub 
1:'. 5.3, 1264. Amorets: spe]t a]so 'amorettes,' 'amourettis,' and 
'amorits'; explained by Cotgrave to mean 'love tricks, wanton love 
toyes, ticklings, daliaunces,' &c. Greene here and in other places uses 
it as equivalent to love-kindling looks ; cf. btfra, l. I668 : 
' Those piercing Amorits 
That Daphne glaunsed.' 
So, too, in 2Vever too Late (Works, viii. p. 16o) : ' She alluring him 
with such wylie amorettes of a Curtizan.' It is sometimes used as 
a synonym for ' love poems' ; cf. preliminary verses to Tul/ies Love 
(Works, vil. Io4) : ' Ovid ... did never such quaint Azorets reherse' ; 
and Heywood, LooEe's Iistress, p. 27 : ' He will be in his amorets and 
his canzonets, his pastorals,' &c. It is also used in the Italian sense 
(amoretti) for love affairs; cf. the title of Spenser's Sonnets. (The 
word amorettes in Ro»taunt of the Rose, 11. 892 and 4755, is taken 
from the French original, where, according to the best scholars, it 
means ' quaking-grass.') 
1:'. 54, 1302. sewer: the sewer was the servant who set the dishes 
on the table at a feast. The derivation is from the OId French asseour, 
from asseoir to place. 
1306. the salt stand: the salt cellar, generally a very large and 
massive one, stood in the middle of the table ; guests of superior rank 
always sat above it towards the upper part of the table, those of 
inferior rank below it towards the bottom. Anthony Iqixon, in his 
Stra2ffe Foot-2bost with a #acket of strange tgetitions, thus describes 
the troubles of a poor scholar:  Now for his fare it is Iikely at the 
chiefest table, but he must sit under the salt, that is an axiom in such 
places.' So in Dekker, The ttonest lVhore, Pt. I. ii. I: Plague 
him. set him beneath the sait and let him hot touch a bit tilI every one 
bas had his full cut.' Cf. Massinger, Unnatzo'al Combat, iii. I, to 
which see Giflbrd's note ; Jonson's Cynthh?s Rei,els, ii. I. 

1:'. 5i, 1344. Carudls: 'carvel is the ordinary name from the 
fifteenth to the seventeenth centuries of a somewhat small light and 
fast ship, chiefly of Spain and Portugal, but alsomentioned as French and 
English ' («V.E.D.). It is described by Kersey as 'rigged and fitted out 
like a galley holding about six score or seven score tun.' For its 
derivative and variant form ' caravel' see W. E. D. s.v. Cf. Orl. Fur. 
l. 86, and cf. Dekker, TIw 14zhom o a3ylon (ed. Pearson, vol. il. 
256), ' ships, Pynaces, Pataches, huge carviles,' and again in the same 
play : ' Add to these gallions Twenty Carviles ' ; and Heywood's 
tdward IV (Works, i. 38) : ' Farewell pink and pinnace, flibote and 
carvel : 
1347. t],'zgyl3tian courlisan : a reference to the famous story told 
by Pliny, 2Vat. I-[ist. ix. 58, of Cleopatra. It would bave a particular 
point to the audience because of the recent extravagant fÆeak of Sir 
Thomas Gresham, who, when Queen Elizabeth visited the F.xchange, 
drank ber health in a cup of wine in which a gem valued at ,I,5OO had 
been dissolved, see Heywood, If you knoev hot me you knoev lVobody, 
Part II, Heywood's XVorks, ed. Pearson, vol. i. p. 3Ol : 
Here fifteen hundred pounds at one clap goes 
Instead of sugar, Gresham drinks this pearl 
Unto his queene and mistress. Pledge it, Lords.' 
1:'. i3. 1351. Volga. It is not necessary to comment on this strange 
geographical blunder. 
133. 2[ira3iles : Dyce prints ' Mirabolans ' : the form in the text 
does not occur elsewhere, and perhaps Greene wrote 'mirabolanes.' 
The word is from the Spanish mira3olano, dried fruit of rive different 
kinds; for a full account of them see Johnson's Gerard's t-[er3al, 
p. 15oo. Another form in English is 'Marablane.' Cf. «'iramillia 
(Greene's çVorks, ii. 2o0): ' The blossomes of the Mirabolanes in 
Spaine is most infectious and yet the fruit verie precious ' ; see, too, 
id. p. 229. To the dried fruit Greene refers in his Nota31e Z)iscovery» 
sig. A.  : ' I bave eaten Spanishe mira3olanes and yet ara nothing 
of the more metamorphosed.' They were particularly sweet, and 
Mrs. Pliant's kiss is compared to them in the .41c]emist, v. I, ' 'S light, 
she melts, like a myrobolane.' 
1355. dwiser l]zan th lamfie : this passage appears to be either 
mutilated or corrupt. Mitford, as Dyce tells us in his note, proposed to 
alter 'lamp' into 'balm ' ; ' balm, or the exudation of the Balsamum, 
was,' he observes, ' the only export of Judoea to Rome and the balm 
was peculiar to Judoea.' But this does not mend the passage, as it 
does hOt suit, as Dyce observes, with what immediately follows. I 
cannot amend the passage. 
For another unsuccessful attempt to explain this passage, by suppos- 
ing that 'lampe ' mean lampre¥, see Dr. Ward's note, O/d Englis] 
Z)rama, ed. 19Ol, p. 28o. 

34z NOTES 
1361. I«cb« ofwi«e« : a 'jack' was a vessel for holding liquor, or 
for drinking from ; for examples see ]V. '. Z). 
1365. Z.axfleld: Laxfield is a village in the hundred of Hoxne in 
Suffolk, about six toiles NNE. of Framlingham. 
1380. Z1nd tlmt ber state, &c. : there is no reason for suspecting 
corruption, though the jingle is intolerable and the expression obscure. 
After ' so' by a common ellipsis ' as' must be supp]ied. 
1:'. 08, 1418. statle,4. The noun ' staple' is still used for the fibre 
of wool considered with regard to its length and quality (cf. the 
quotation from Drayton in the next note); hence the adjectives 
' long-stapled,' ' short-stapled.' The expression ' stapled with such 
wool ' may be rendered ' consisting of wool of so fine a staple.' 
1419. )Lemibster : Lemster or Leominster is a very ancient town on 
the Lugg, and is in the hundred of Wolphy in Herefordshire. It was 
long famous for its woollen manufactures; see Drayton, tolyolbion, 
Song vii. 145-5o : 
'At Lemster for her Wooll whose staple doth excell, 
And seemes to overmatch the golden 19hryian fell. 
Had this our Colchos been unto the Ancients knowne, 
When Honor was herself, and in her glory showne, 
He then that did commaund the Infantry of Greece 
Had onely to our Ile adventur'd for this Fleece'; 
and in his 17attle ofAgincourt he says : ' A golden fleece fair Hereford 
doth wear.' J. Philips too in his Cyder, t3k. ii, asks whether 
' The fleece 
I3oeotic or finest Tarentine compare 
With Lemster's silken wool.' 
In Dyer's time it seems to have lost its pre-eminence ; cf., for his 
only notices of it, Fleece, i. 52 and ii. 199. 
1421. strouting: ' to strout' is to swell (M. E. struten) ; it is here 
used exactly as Drayton uses it, Polydbion, xiii : 
'The daintie Clouer growes, (of grass the only silke,) 
That makes each Vdder slroul abundantly with milke.' 
Cf. too Topsell's Hist. of Seribents, p. 252 : ' The groyne and hammes 
doe much slroule oui and are exceeding distended.' Cf. 'astrout,' 
which, according to Halliwell (l?ict. of 4rch. and trov, sub voce), is 
still used in Somersetshire. In lromt, larv, p. 16, 'astrut' is 
translated by turgide. The word 'paggle' is known only from this 
passage, and seems to mean 'to be pendulous,' 'to hang down like 
a bag.' There are two instances of ' pagled' in the sense of pregnant : 
one occurs in Nash, Lenten S/uffe (Harl. 2]liscellany, vi. 169), 
' Hero... was ibagled and timpanized,' the other in Helkiah Crooke, 
Body of,lan (I615) , p. 314 (quoted in _/V. 2ï./9.) ; cf. 'bagged ' in the 
saine sense. Dr. XVright tells me the word is unknown to him. 

1435. Giue me : Dyce queries whether the words ' give me,' which 
make an Alexandrine of the line, should be omitted. 
1436. Whic]c or to whom, &c. : this line is harsh in construction, 
and even ungrammatical ; but cf. suibra, 1. 1414 : ' Who, or of whome, 
loue shall constraine me like.' For the clumsy verb 'affectionate' cf. 
Penelobe's IVeb (Greene's Works, v. 2o2) : ' A widow, whom for her 
beauty he did greatly affectioate: 
1448. tem2bers : see note on 1. 617. 
1449. wronoes »ce : Dyce suggests with a query ' wrings,' which is 
ingenious, but not needed. 
1:'. 159, 147.5. Thescrowles, &c. The mette is defective, but ' serowles' 
is a disyllable, and perhaps ' to' should be inserted before ' Danae.' 
1481, &c. This letter, which is in the most approved style of 
Euphuism, borrows the phrase accompanying the signature from 
Camilla's letter to Philautus, tïuibhues and his tV.ngland (ed. Bond, 
vol. ii. p. 129 ) :  Neither thine nor hir owne, Camilla.' The Quartos 
quite naturally misspell Hemerae Hemere. With this passage cf. 
Wever too Late (Works, viii. I25) : ' We be like the files Hemerae that 
take life with the sunne and dye with the deaw.' 
P. 30, 1509. She»ld net haue »coude, &c. : There is surely no reason 
to suspect, as Dyce does, corruption here; the line is simply an 
1516. bVealth, tras : Dyce suggests, to mend the mette, ' Wealth 
shall be trash.' 
1:'. 39., 1554. tkobeters. Ovid, 3Iet. xi. 64% mentions Phobetor as 
a son of Somnus: 'Hunc Icelon superi, mortale Phobetora vulgus 
Nominat.' In his Mrcadia (Works, vi. 54) Greene takes Phobetor 
and Icelos for different persons : ' Charging Morpheus, Phobetor and 
Icolon, the Gods of sleepe, to present unto his closed eyes the singular 
beautie and rare perfections of Samela.' 
1574. nos autem, &c. : the saine miserable jingle occurs in the 
Loeking Glasse, 1. 2Ol : ' His nose was in the highest degree of noses, 
it was nose autem glorificam.' 
1581. browne bill: pikes or halberts carried by vatchmen; cf. 
Middleton, ater t¢ubbard's Tale (Works, viii. p. I) : ' I the black 
constable commanded my white guard hot only to assist my office 
with their browne bills, but to raise up the house '; and again, id. 99: 
' I saw the tweering constable of Finsbury with his Bench of Browne 
bill men.' Cf. also Second Part t¢enry VI, iv. x. 12, and the notes of 
the commentators. 
t'. 33, 1591. Allusions to this supposed habit of the nightingale are 
too common in our old writers to need illustration, but Dr. Ward very 
pertinently quotes Sir Thomas Browne, tseudodocia tçidemica, iii. 
xxviii : ' Whether the nightingale sitting with her breast against a thorn 
be any more than that she placeth some prickles on the outside of her 

344 NOTES 
nest, or roosteth in thorny, prickly places where serpents may least 
approach her ?' 
1 o. 64. 1620. Fabius cumentator: Miles's blunder for Fabius 
1625. the turrets of thy hoibe. It may be questioned whether 
Greene was a reader of Aeschylus, but there is a curious parallel to this 
in the 5ubblices, 9 o, 91 : 
166. Deztoœeorœeon. Demogorgon fills an important place in poet. 
This deity is supposed to be referred to, though he is hOt nam¢d, in 
Lucan, Wharsdia, ri. 744 seqq. : 
' Paretis ? an ille 
Compellandus erit, quo nunquam terra vocato 
Non concussa tremit; qui Gorgona cernit apertam, 
Verberibusque suis trepidam castigat Erinnyn' ; 
and possibly again in the saine book, 497 seqq. : 
'An habent haec carmina certum 
Imperiosa deum, qui mundum cogere, quicquid 
Cogitur ipse, potest ?' 
by Statius, Theb. iv. 54 seqq. : 
'Scimus enim et quicquid dici noscique timetis, 
Et turbare Hecaten, ni te, Thymbraee, vererer 
Et triplicis mundi summum, quem scire nefastum est: 
Illum sed taceo.' 
The ne seems first to occur in the scholiast on the passage in 
Statius just quoted, ' dicit Deum Demogorgona summum.' This seems 
to account for the insertion ofthe naine in Hyginus i : ' Ex Demogorgone 
et terra, Python.' Jortin, Tracls, vol. i. p. 66, says the naine occurs in 
Lactantius, but gives no reference, and I cannot find it there. Boiardo 
introduces him by naine in the Orlando Innamorato, ii. xiii. st. 3, and 
Tasso, Ger. Lib. xiii. st. x. Spenser more than once introduces bim, 
describing Archimage as 
'A bold bad man] That ded to call by naine 
Great Gorgon, prince of darkness and dead night 
At which Cocytus quakes and Styx is put to flight.' 
Foerie Queene, i. i. st. 37. 
Cf. id. i. v. st. e and iv. ii. st. 47: 'Downe in the bottom of the 
deepe abysse Where Demogorgon . . . The hideous Chaos keepes.' 
This seems to bave led Milton to identify this deity with chaos. He 
says (rolusiones Oraloriœe, Works, ed. Bohn, p. 8): 'Apud 
vetustissimos (though it is dicult to see t whom he oen be referring) 
mythologiae scriptores memoriae datum reperio Demofforffona Deorum 
omnium atavum (quem eundem et Chaos ab antiquis nuncupatum 

hariolor) inter alios liberos quos sustulerat plurimos, Terrain genuisse.' 
In tar. Lost, il. 964, he associates this deity with Orcus and Ades: 
' Orcus and Ades and the dreaded naine 
He is among the powers invoked by Faust in Marlowe's tragedy. 
Sec too Shelley's _romelheus Unbound, Act ii. sc. iv. The derivation 
of the naine is quite uncertain: the _,V.E.2Z suggests that it may 
possibly be a corruption of some Oriental naine. 
1658. The more lhe fox, &c.: another form of this proverb runs 
' The fox never rares better than when he is bann'd. ' Sec Ray's troverbs, 
ed. Bohn, p. 95. Cf. 2)ofence of Conny- Catchlnff (Works, xi. 63) : ' The 
fox the more he is curst, the better he rares,' and Thomas Lord Cromwell, 
ii. iii: 'The fox fares better still when he is curs'd.' 
1:'. 68, 1668. amorits : sec note on 1. 1264. 
16"/8. As Edward bath, &c. Dyce observes that this line is 
corrupted : there is no reason to suspect it, the sense is clear ; itis 
an Alexandrine. 
1681. honour ,fi: for this use of 'up' sec note on Alhonsus, 
1. I934, vol. i. p. 290. 
1:'. 67, 1"/88. out ofall hoe : this curious phrase, which is used in the 
two senses of intermission, measure, is thus explained by Nares and 
Halliwell, sub voce : ' Originally a call from the interjection ho ! atter- 
ward rather like a stop or limit in the two phrases oul ofall ho for out 
of all bounds; and there's no ho wil/t him, that is, he is hot tobe 
restrained. Both seem deducible in some degree from the notion of 
calling in or restraining a sporting dog, or perhaps a hawk with a call, 
or ho ! ' Itis as old as Chaucer, cf. Troilus, il. lO83 : ' But that was 
endeles with-outen ho.' Barbour, xx. 4-9, and Blind Harry (sec 
Wallace, il. OE64-5), also use it : 
' Atour the wattir led him with gret woo 
Till hyr awn horss withouten ony hoo.' 
To the illustrations collected by Nares and Halliwell add 
iii. ii : ' Because . . some fantastic fellows [make much on him there's 
no ho with him.' And sec Dyce's note in his Middleton, iii. o6. 
1:'. 68. 1766. Crackfleld: Cratfield is a small village in Suffolk in 
the hundred of Blything ; it is about nine toiles from Framlingham. 
1:'. 69, 1793. ]rodgales hall was originally Segrim, or, as it was 
popularly called, Segreve Hall, in Oxford, a very ancient foundation 
dating as far back as the twelfth century. It was called t3roadgates Hall 
because of its unusually wide entrance, « aula cure lata porta.' In the 
seventeenth century, 6u4, the present Pembroke College was founded 
within this Hall, new buildings being soon afterwards erected, and the 
name of 13roadgates Hall was consequently lost, being absorbed in the 
College. For ample information see History oftembroke College, and 
Chalmers's ttistore of lhe Colleffes of Owford. 

346 NOTES 

1809..renie, man: the word 'venie' is spelt in various ways: 
venue,' 'veney,' 'veny,' 'vennye,' 'venew,' and is from the French 
venue, 'a coming on,' and is synonymous with a bout, an assault or 
attack in fencing, cudgels, and the like. In Ben Jonson, tvery 2plan 
in Iris l-Zumour, i. iv, it is used as a synonym for the stoccata. See 
Nares and Halliwell, and add to the illustrations given by them, The 
Play ofStud'ley (Simpson's reprint, 6o2, 3) : ' For forfeits and vennyes 
given upon a wager at the ninth bottom of your doublet ' ; Preface to 
Defence ofConny-Çatdtinff (Works, xi. 47) : ' I meane to bave a bout 
with this R. G. and to give him such a veoE that he shalbe afrayd,' &c. 
So in Heywood's tour trentices of [.ondon, i. I : 'Into the fencing 
school to play a venew.' 
1818. fathers : Dyce suggests  scholars' and certainly fathers' 
does hOt make very good sense. 
1 . 70, 1821. braue lustie rutes. This is by no means easy to 
explain. Dr. Ward seems inclined to suppose that it means renowned 
or famous personages, in other words, as a metonymy for bruit, a report 
of faine, quoting very appositely two passages from Peele's Sir 
Clyomon and Sir Clamydes, scene xi. 23-4, ed. Bullen : 
' And doth Neronis love indeed ? to whom love doth she yield ? 
Even to that noble bruit ffame, the knight of the Golden Shield' ; 
and again, scene xv. I I : 
' Since I bave given my faith and troth to such a bruit of faine 
As is the knight of the Golden Shield.' 
But although Greene frequently uses the word in the sense of report 
spelling it ahnost always ' brute'--he never used it as a synonym for 
a famous person. 
In the writers of the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries 
the word is a synonym either for a Briton or for a prince or great 
or noble personage, taking its origin from Brutus, the fabulous great 
grandson of Aeneas and founder of the British Empire. So Peele in his 
Edward I (Dyce's ed. p. 384) makes Lluellen speak of himself as 
potentially ' chiefest Brute of Western Wales,' i.e. prince or ruler ; so 
in tuhues (ed. Bond, vol. i. p. x87) it means a noble person : ' As thy 
birth doth shewe the expresse and liuely image of gentle bloude, so thy 
bringing vp seemeth to mee to bee a great blotte to the linage of so 
noble a brute.' For this sense too cf. The geggars gush, v. il: 
'Then bear up bravely with your lrute, my lads? In Vox 2bouli 
OEox Dei, a poem attributed to Skelton, and printed by Dyce in his 
edition of Skelton, vol. ii. p. 4o9, it seems to mean simply Britons : 
' And thus this isle of Brutes 
Most plentyful of fruits ' ; 
so also in Warner's tlbion's England: 
' Pledges... that Denmark great should pay 
Continual tribute to the Brutes.' 

In .[amillia (Works, il. 21) it seems to be used in the sense of 
'bloods' or riotous youths: ' Intending by solitarinesse to avoid all 
inconvenience as her presence among the lustie brues might have 
1835. albe : the white surplice of a bishop ; cf. the directions in the 
Rubric of Edvard VI : ' They (the bishops) shall have upon them in 
time of their administration besides their rochet a surplice or alb and 
a cope or vestment.' For tentafferon see note on ]. 222. 
1836. restingoft]te ]wly naine : cf. Marlowe, Fauslus, ed. Ward, 
sc. m. 47 seqq. : 
' For when we hear one rack the naine of God, 
Abjure the scriptures, and his Saviour Christ, 
We fly in hope to get his glorious soul.' 
1838. JFfanot]t. Greene's magical knowledge appears to be very 
loose and inaccurate. It is difficult to see what Manoth is doing here. 
Tetragrammaton is the Hebrew name of four letters, JHVH, re- 
presented in the English Bible by Jehovah ; the true pronunciation 
was admitted by the Jews to have been lost, but it was supposed that 
certain persons acquired the knowledge of it by revelation or diabolic 
agency, and thus became possessed of magical powers. See Scot's 
Discoverie, 13k. xv. vi. Adonai (id.), Soter (id. xv. iv.), Eloim, and 
Alpha were also names of God. See also Dr. Ward's reference to 
Scheible'.s Ixloster, iii. 293. It is difficult to see what is meant by ' the 
fiuefold powers of heauen' ; they were either fourfold or manifold, and 
not to be reduced to definiteness. For much information in these points 
see Scot's Discoverie, Bk. xv, and the First Book of the De Occulta 
thilosobhia of Cornelius Agrippa. 
1:'. 79., 1895. nuttoî in the ordinary cant sense of prostitute, 
though the term was generally ' laced mutton,' see Two Gentlemen of 
Verona, i. I. IO2, with the notes of the commentators. So an immoral 
man vas called a ' mutton-monger' ; see Sir John Oldcastle, Act ii. 
sc. ii; while a well-known quarter of these women in Clerkenwell 
was called from them Mutton Lane. See Malone's note on T. G. V.., 
i, I. IO2. 
1:'. 7B, 1930. my Lord, &c. On the words ' my lord' Dyce observes, 
'most probably an addition by some transcriber, which not onl¥ 
injures the metre but is out of place in the mouth of Warren, who is 
himself "a lord," and who when he last addressed Lacy called him 
" Sirrah Ned." ' 
1944. Dyce queries 'thy husband, I.' 
1:'. 74, 1958. humbls, grmbles are the liver, kidneys and other 
inward parts of a deer, which, according to Holinshed, i. 2o4, quoted by 
Nares and Hallivell, vere the keeper's perquisites : ' The keeper hath 
the skin, head, umbles, chine and shoulders.' The word represents the 
M. E. notables, noumbles, now»yllis, from the Old French notables, Late 

348 NOTES 
Latin lumbuhts ; the initial letter having dropped off, the word became 
' umbles.' In both forms, umbles and nmnbles, it is hOt uncommon in our 
old writers. In Dekker's Tke Ioarbg Girl itis used for the human 
' corporation' : ' a good well set fellow if his spirits be answerable to 
his umbles.' Dekker, Works, ed. Pearson, vol. iii. p. I74. It was not 
obsolete in Pepys's rime, who records, ])iary, iii. 3oI : ' This day I 
had a whole doe sent me... and I had the umbles of it for dinner.' 
So the phrase ' to eat humble pie,' that is, pie ruade hot from the best 
but from the inferior parts of a deer. 
1990. cotformable.., fo the stature: a reference to one of the 
numerous sumptuary laws passed for the regulation of dress. See 
note on the Looking G[asse, I. 575, vol. i. p. 295. 
1:'. 75, 1993. eve[t : a welt is a facing to a gown, and is synonymous 
with guard. So in the A[ourttittff Garlttenl (Works, ix. 142 ) : 
' H is coat was greene 
With ,ells of white ' ; 
in the Qui;b;befor an Ufistart Courtier (Works, xi. 222) : ' A plaine paire 
of cloth breeches without either elt or guard' ; it is also used as a verb 
(id. 49) : ' A blacke gowne evelted and faced.' 
1998. paire of cardes: a pair or 'payre' of cards is the ordinary 
term for a pack. See Preface to A Notable Discoverie of Coosnage 
(Works, x. p.  I) : ' Out cometh an old paire of cards,' and the Second 
Part of Conty-Catchinff (id. p. 9) : ' Having a payre of cards in his 
pocket.' For other illustrations see Nares and Halliwell, sub voce. 
1:'. 76, 2028. humbles: for this uncommon use of the word, which 
as an active verb is common, cf. All's lVell that Etds Well, i. 2. 45 : 
' In their poor praise he humbled.' 
2042. 7E'at ffloried 1da: cf. Greene's te«ibhues his Censure, 
&c. (Works, vi. 257): 'The honour whereof still fflories your names 
with renowne' ; and Epistle Dedicatory to Tullids Love (Works, vii. 
IOO) : ' As well to grace the souldier as to fflory the poet' ; and the 
Lookinff Glasse, I. o8 : ' That ffloried Venus at ber wedding day.' 
1:'. 77, 2070. Brute didbuild, &c. : for this see Geoffrey of Monmouth, 
Bk. i. cap. xvii. (Giles' translation) : ' Brutus, having thus at last set 
eyes upon his kingdom, formed a design of building a city, and with 
this view travelled through the land to find out a convenient situation, 
and coming to the river Thames he walked along the shore, and at last 
pitched upon a place very fit for his purpose. Here therefore he 
built a city which he called New Troy r under which name it continued 
a long rime after, till at last by the corruption of the original word it 
came to be called Trinovantum.' 
2084. kyacintlz: in associating Hyacinthus with Venus Greene 
bas probably confounded Hyacinthus with Adonis, or perhaps the 
hyacinth is used loosely for the flowers which sprang up from the 
nectar-sprinkled blood. If he means any particular flower by ' Ceres 

carnation,' which he probablydoes not, for the whole passage is fancifully 
rhetorical, he mst mean the poppy ; possibly it may refer to the ruddy 
gold of ripened corn, like Virgil's 'rubicunda Ceres.' 
2092. Circled vil]z Gihen, &c.: with this compare O'.lando 
Furioso, I. 41 : 
From whence floweth Gyhon and swift Euphrates,' 
which confirms Dyce's correction of'first' into  swift.' 


Page 89. Stage Direction. This play has been most carelessly 
printed, as is evident at the very threshold, in this first stage 
direction. I have followed Dyce in regulating it, but I have retained 
the old spelling. What is meant by 'attyred like a ridstall man' 
seems difficult to explain. Dyce supposes either misspelling or cor- 
ruption. In his first edition he suggested Riddesdale. /VIr. Deighton, 
Conjectural 2eaditffs on t]e 7"e'ls, &c., p. 183, proposes byrstall, 
i.e. cowherd. Neither is satisfactory. Professor Skeat has favoured 
me with a far more satisfactory explanation than has yet been given : 
he takes it to mean a stableman-- a stable cleaner. Rid or Redis to 
cleanse or clear out, a sta/l is a ' stable.' Rid, or Scotice Red, to clear 
out, is akin to the Icelandic ry#ja, to clear, Danish rydde, to grub up. 
German reuten is from the same root. Bohan is evidently in an 
unkempt state, a Stoic,' and might quite well have been represented 
as attired like a stableman. 
1..dy is of course put for I'; the Scotch pronunciation of the 
long i in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries was often ridiculed 
by English writers, who represented it by the spelling ay or ai. 
5. may whayet. This means ' my quiet' ; see the preceding note. 
The pronunciation of çu as v was not really Scotch, but Northern 
English; but Greene's Scotch is not very accurate. 
recon. The Quarto at South Kensington, which belonged to 
Dyce, has a variant 'reson,' which makes no sense. 
13..j,ear wh,oEle: bastard Scotch, for ' erewhile.' 
20. rid thee away. For rede, advise, I advise you to go away ; 
cf. infra, I. 589, ' I rid thee to view the picture still.' 
P. 90, 25. threab... vttiniard. To threap, spelt also threle and 
threib, means to contradict or to affirm pertinaciously in opposition ; it 
is English as well as Scotch, being derived directly from the A. S. 
a%e-«7ian. See Jamieson and the Centurv lPiclionay for illustra- 
tions. A whiniard vas a short crooked sword, but came to mean a 
svord or dagger generally. Allusions to it are common in the 
Elizabethan writers. Cf. A'«m ///O', v. l, 'By Heaven, l'll gar my 

35 ° NOTES 
whyniard through your womb' ; and EdoE«ard III, i. t, ' Dismits their 
biting whinyards.' 
26. lotie: to leap, of which word it is a provincial form. Nares 
and Halliwell, sub voce, quote Cotgrave, V/ils' ]ntertreter, p. 323, 
for the substantive, 'and comes down with a vengeance ata single 
lope.' For the verb cf. Middleton, Stanish Gisy, iv. I : 
' He that lopes 
On the ropes 
Show me such another wench.' 
28. Gadsfute : God's foot. 1)eele is, of course, for Deil, Devil. 
94. lread ay gad : Bread of God. 
62. cog. To cog properly denotes some mode of cheating at dice ; 
hence in figurative use, to cheat, to falsify a narrative, to lie and deceive. 
For its primary sense see Middleton's t:alher Hubbard's Tale (Works, 
ed. Bullen, p. 83), ' Crying out for a new pair of square ones (dice) for 
the other belike had cogged with him»; and Lyly, Satiho and Phao, 
i. 3- 99 (ed. Bond), 'Wee tral from cogging at dice, to cogge with 
states.' As a synonym for deceiving or cheating it is too common to 
need illustration. 
59. nere l/te ,tere: never the nearer. « Nere' is the old com- 
parative of ' nigh' (A. S. nêah). A very favourite phrase with our old 
writers ; cf. o3ipt Hood tallads, Littel Geste, Sec. Fytte : 
'Though ye would give a thousand more 
Yet were :ce never the nere'; 
Middleton's Itisdom of Solomon, 25, 'XVaking or sleeping they are 
ne'er the near.' It is often used with reference to the proverb, ' Early 
up and never the nearer' ; cf. Field's _/imends for Ladies, ' You say 
true, Master Subtle, I bave been early up, but, as God help me, I was 
never the nere' ; and 1)eath of Robert Earl ofIutligton, sig. F. 4: 
'In you yfaith the proverb's vented 
Y'are early up and yet are nere the neare.' 
Cf. Webster, Cure for a Cuckold, ii. 4, and Greene, Frier lacon and 
Frier lotgay, I. 683, 'Your early vp, pray God it be the neere.' 
Shakespeare uses the phrase in Richard 1/, v. I. 88, ' Better far off, 
than near, be ne'er the near.' 
1:'. 91, 80. Howe, boyes .t Dyce notes that this was frequently the 
spelling of' Ho' in the old books ; cf. Lo2,e's Labour's Lost, v. 2.43 : 
the First Folio reads ' 'Ware pensais. How ? ' and 1-cttlel, v. 2. 325» 
' Howe, let the doore be Iock'd.' 
83. on for an. 
86. OEvhiniard: see note on 1. 25. 
90. 1)ance t-htme: Whether we read ' Humer' or, as Dyce reads 
in his first edition, ' Heimer,' each is equally unintelligible. 
1:'. 99,, 123. louely. The word 'lovely' is constantly employed for 
'loving' or 'affectionate.' Dyce quotes to refute Collier, who had 

pronounced the word here to be a misprint for ' loving,' Taming ofllze 
Shrez, iii. 2. 126, ' And seal the title with a lovely kiss ' ; Peele, 2"he 
4rrainmen of taris, Act ii, 'And I will give thee many a lovely 
kiss.' In tïdward Z,, i. 3, there is a very emphasized illustration of 
this sense of the word : 
'And lovely England to thy lovely queen 
Lovely Queen Elinor unto ber turn thine eye 
,Vhose honour cannot but love thee well.' 
See too Greene's Carde ofFancie (Works, iv. 47), ' What lovelie lookes 
which no doubt are signes that.., she will not refuse me at the last.' 
So bassim, Frier lacon and Frier Bongay. 
1:'. 9, 1/54. IVilh tare. Dyce's correction seems necessary, for it is 
difficult to see any point in the reading of the Quarto. Perhaps 
Greene wrote ' lief Doll' ; in that case the text of the Quarto could be 
1:'. 9zi, 197. Lesl. ' Lest ' or « least,' when meaning « unless,' is always 
altered by Dyce into ' 'less,' but it is so constantly printed in the form 
it assumes in the text that it can hardly be an error. Cf. 1. 568, 
' I tell thee, Eustace, lest mine old eyes daze, This is, &c.' Cf. Peele, 
t?dward I, i. 5, ' And least thou have thy love and make thy peace,' 
and Marlowe, The Jeev of Alalta, Act iii (ed. Dyce, p. I63), 'And 
least thou yield to this that I entreat, I cannot think,' &c., and his 
Ovid's t?leies, iv, 'Nor least she will can any be restramed.' It is 
indeed habitual in the old Quartos. 
t'. 95, 03. imNoy on you. This is a very rare use of 'employ,' 
exactly corresponding to the Old French 'emibloier une faveur.' 
Godefroy quotes tïnf. Offier, 6744 : 
'Bien emploiames l'ounour et la douçour 
Que le monstrames.' 
The Af. E.D. quotes Gest's ]griuate A[asse (I548), ' Melchisedech, 
employing upon Abraham bred and wyne.' CL Lodge's Alarum Affainsl 
Usurers (Laing"s edit., p. 52), ' I employ my money uppon thee not to 
the use thou shouldst be lewde.' 
3. stales : decoys. 
3. 2rhal, like a lee. This appears to be a reference to 
l,osalynd's madrigal in Lodge's 2?osa[ynde, « Love in my bosom, like 
a bee.' 
1:'. 97, 96. drifl: 'driff,' in the sense of design or purpose, is a 
favourite word with the Elizabethans ; cf. 1. I8O7, ' And if that faile, well 
fare another drift '; Arisfortunes ofArthur, i. 4, 'See here the drifts of 
Gorlois,' and again, 'The mounting mind intoxicates the train with 
giddy drifts.' So in Peele, Edward I, i. 2, ' Of his intentions, driffs, 
and stratagems.' It often bas the sense of a trick or stratagem ; so in 
Grim the Collier of Croydon, v, 3, 'A hundred, drifts she laid to cut 
nle Offo  


807. de/rac/. 

For this sense of the word 'detract,' i.e. to hold 

back, see Nares and Halliwell; for its active sense see 
Sir Clyomon and Sir Clamydes, sc. xv : 
« To frame 
Their engines to detract out vows'; 
and id., sc. xxii : 
'Yet not detracting this your vow.' 
1:'. 98, 332. Troflhonius. As Trophonius, with his brother Agamedes, 
built the Temple at Delphi and had a famous oracle at Lebadeia in 
Boeotia there is propriety in Greene's reference to him. 
1:'. 99, 35I. Then : ' then ' and 'than ' are of course habitually inter- 
360. toaths. Dyce silently prints 'motes,' and this no doubt 
makes much better sense than 'moaths' or ' moths,' but I bave not 
altered the text. 
379. earbes : this spelling of ' herbes ' is an interesting illustration 
of the silence of the h in the word. 
385. Vinne (me). A word has obviously dropt out here. Dyce 
proposes ' Win thou my love,' which Grosart adopts, or ' Win but my 
love.' I prefer ' Win me my love.' 
1:'. 1OO, SCENE II. S. D. billes. This scene is drawn from one familiar 
enough to the Londoners of Elizabeth's rime. If servants wanted 
places or masters servants it was usual to set up ' bills' in the body 
of old St. Paul's Church. See Jonson's Every .[an ou[ of his 
Ieanour, iii. I, for ample illustration; also l'qares and Halliwell, s.r., 
' Bills,' ' Paul's,' ' Si quis,' and add the very lively scene described in 
Greene's Ne,s bol/t from Ieaven and I-[ell, sig. C. 2. This in- 
teresting pamphlet ought to be reprinted. 
1:'. 101, 436. lo lhe sec. It is hOt necessary to illustrate this very. 
common use of ' to' in the sense of ' compared with '--no fishing com- 
pared with fishing in the sea, no service compared to service with a 
king. For the proverb see Ray (ed. Bohn, p. 93), ' No fishing to fishing 
in the sea,' and the French ' Il fait beau pëcher en eau large.' 
442. leec/t: Dyce, unnecessarily perhaps, alters to 'liege,' but 
'liege' is spelt lech, as in Sir Cleges, 409. For the etymological 
history of this difficult word see iV. E. D., s. v. 
455-6. a, ork vi[lz lhe sickesl. This is certainly a Iittle obscure, 
but yet it makes good sense. The humour lies in the representation 
of disqualifications as qualifications : he can sleep--with the soundest, 
eat--with the hungriest, work--with the sickest, that is with those 
who are most disqualified for working. But Dyce, evidently not 
seeing the point, appends in a note the conjecture of a friend 
'sickerest,' which must mean ' securest,' the superlative of 'sicker,' 
and makes nonsense, and suggests, with a query, 'stoutest'; he 

might just as well have suggested « quickest,' for both take away the 
whole point ofthe passage. Mr. Deighton in his Conjecturalt?eadins, 
p. 184, proposes to insert ' shirk' before 'work'--' shirk work with the 
sickest,' which is not very happy. The passage seenas to need no 
correct ion. 
1:'. 109., 477. IVhy, there j,ou kill »te, &c. This passage is plainly 
corrupt. Dyce gives it up, but inserts in his note a conjecture of 
Mitford's, who would read, ' There ana I a fier se, turn me to a horse 
and a wench and I bave no peer.' I would suggest, though with no 
confidence, ' \Vhy, there you will nae, there ana I '--where you wish 
nae to o there ara I instanter. 
479 seqq. For all that follows Greene seems to bave been indebted 
to Fitzherbert's l?ook of]-lusban,lry, first printed in 1523, where com- 
menting on the properties of horses he thus writes : 
' 71. The Properties of Horses. 
'Thou grasyer, that lnayst fortune to be of nayne opynyon or 
condityon, to loue horses and yonge coltes or foies to goo anaonge thy 
cattel, take hede that thou be not begyled, as I haue ben an hundred 
tymes and more. And first thou shalt knowe, that a good horse hath 
.liiii. propertyes, that is to say .ii. of a naan, .il. of a bauson or a badger, 
.iiii. of a lyon, .ix. of an oxe, .ix. of an hare, .ix. of a foxe, .ix. of an asse, 
and .x. of a woman. 
' 7z. The two propertles, that a horse bath of a man. 
'Two of a naan. The fyrste is, to haue a proude harte ; and the 
seconde is to be bolde and hardy .... 
' 74- The .iiii. properties of a lyon. 
' Four of a lion : The fyrste is to haue a brode breste ; the seconde, 
to be stiffe-docked; the thirde, to be wylde in countenaunce; the 
fourthe, to haue foure good legges .... 
'79. The .x. properties of a wonaan. 
'Ten, of a woman. The fyrst is, is to be mery of chere ; the 
seconde to be well-paced ; the thyrde, to haue a brode foreheed ; the 
fourth, to haue brode buttockes ; the fyfthe, tobe harde of warde; 
the syxte, to be easye to lepe vppon ; the .vil. to be good at a longe 
journeye ; the .viii. to be well sturrynge vnder a naan ; the .ix. tobe 
always besye with the naouthe; tenth, euer to be chowynge on the 
brydell.' Skeat's ReflrDtt, published for the English Dialect Society, 
I882. For this infornaation I ara indebted to Mr. \V. J. Craig. 
483. a stiffe dockel : Greene obtained this from ' stiffe-docked' in 
the passage quoted in the preceding note. There is no evidence of 
the existence of' docket ' as a synonyln of ' dock,' the solid fleshy part 
of an aninaal's tail (bi. E. doc, dok). Sec _/V. E. D. s.v. 
488. tables : the conamon word for ' tablets,' menaorandum book. 
1:'. 10, 525. ]?y me, &c. The words ' By me, Andrew Snoord' are 
not easy to explain. Dr. Grosart's note is ' Either the bill itself bas 

354 NOTES 
been omitted by accident, or he presents it rnerely repeating its last 
words and pointing toits signature.' This seerns a satisfactory 
explanation, if the reading is to be retained. Mr. J. C. Srnith con- 
jectures 'by naine.' 
:P. 104, 536. may sale: pseudo-Scotch for 'rny soul.' 
538. waly 2ooe : cf. Shakespeare, ¢]Iidsummer Nigkl's Dream, 
ii. I. x62, ' Quench'd in the chaste beams of the wat'ry moon.' 
541. woond: for ' wonned,' dwelt. 
542-3. IVeL-o»ze, &c. The rnetre is defective. Dyce suggests the 
insertion of'as' before ' welcome.' Grosart supplies 'aye'; and in 
the next line inserts ' rny' before bonny. 
568. lest: see note on 1. x97. 
1:'. 105,590. For by the po'sons siffhts there hatffs some ill. This is 
very difficult ; the 'from' of the Quartos plainly makes no sense. Dyce 
silently prints 'some' and Dr. Grosart ' sorn.' This must be adopted, 
and then the sense would seern tobe, I advise you to content yourself 
with seeing her portrait, for if you see her person, i. e. the person 
herself, rnischief is likely to result; 'the person's sights' being an 
awkward expression for seeing the person, the plural possibly having 
the force of repeatedly seeing. Probably, however, Greene wrote 
' person's sight,' i. e. seeing the person herself. In Tullie's Love (Works, 
vii. x oE) ' sights ' is used for ' eyes ' : ' troupes of beautiful ladies tickled 
with an earnest desire to satisfy the sights with his personage.' 
591. Oh, ffood s#'tarlram. The Quartos misassign these lines 
to Sir 13artram : they plainly belong, as Dyce prints, to Eustace. 
97. 'e Gad, andsal: ' 13y God, and shalt,' pseudo-Scotch. 
604. lewely: Dyce retains the word, but adds in a note: ' I sup- 
pose "lovely." The Rev. J. Mitford, Getl. ]laff. for March, 833, 
p. z8, speaking of the present passage, says, "This word lewely we 
find in the old Romance of tt«velok, ed. Madden, v. OE92r : 
"So the rose in roser 
Hwan it is fayr sprad ut newe 
Ageyn the sunne, brith and lewe." 
]3ut was Mr. Mitford aware that in the lines just quoted lette means 
warm?' Mitford was quite off the point. Probably Greene wrote 
' lowely,' purposely interchanging the 'v' for the 'w' to imitate the 
Scotch ; or perhaps 'lewely' expresses his notion of the Scotch pro- 
nunciation of' lovely.' 
The etc. at the end of the line is sometirnes found in the old 
Quartos, and appears to intimate that the player could extemporize 
anything he chose. See note on OrlaMo Ftrioso, 1. x33 , vol. i. 
p. 38. 
1 z'. 106, 614. sgraettotzbts. I3yce, though he does not alter the text, 
suggests that the lirnping mette should be mended by reading 
'debates' for 'doubts,' supporting his suggestion by l. 44% 

 Giue me a sword, and if there grow debate.'  Doubts' used in the 
sense of  fears,' as often ; so ' doubts ' as a verb in the sense of fear, 
and 'doubtful' in the sense of flfll of fear. Greene is particularly 
fond of these words in these senses. 
619. firide: foolish pride, represented as it ought to be repre- 
sented. Dyce quite unnecessarily proposes to read 'prize' for 'pride.' 
S. D., following 1. 622. In this stage direction the corruptions 
are obvious. The reference here is to the expedition of Senfiramis 
against Staurobates, which is told in detail by Diodorus Siculus, II. 
ch. xvi-xviii. Diodorus was readily accessible to Greene by Thomas 
Stocker's translation published in 1599, and in his trarewell to 
(The Tale of Cosimo) he has told the story of Semiramis and Ninus, 
drawing on Diodorus for some of the details, though not for the 
624. euery weane : ' weane' is not, as Dyce thought, the modern 
Scotch 'wean' (for wee ane), young child, which makes no sense. 
Perhaps it is for ,heaze, a Northern English form of' quean,' woman. 
C£ note on line . 
638. e. This is unintelligible. Wherever 'ene' occurs in the 
play it means ' eyen,' eyes, and is never used for 'aih,' own, as 
Grosart proposes to take the passage. Perhaps the best interpretation 
is to substitute ' hast' for 'art,' as Grosart suggests, and this is the 
more likely as the Quarto has a full stop afier ' ene.' 
. 107, 638. allurel]t : Walker, Shakeseare's Verscatio, observes 
that 'allureth' is here a quadrisyllable. Ail monosyllables ending 
in 'r' and 're' are habitually lengthened, and this word follows the 
analo, thus becoming quadrisyllabic. 
S. D., following 1. 638. Oliue WaL In this stage direction Olive 
Pat is apparently a despemte couption. Dyce quite gives it up, 
saying that he could hOt even conjecture what the author wrote. 
Dr. Grosart conjectures 'Olive and Palm.' I am inclined to think that 
it may be the naine of an actor. 
639-43. The reference is to Plutarch, lexander, ch. lxix, 
ç Oovçal  robv OE&a ptrabr«. In North's version : After 
that, Cyrus tombe (King of Persia) being round and broken up he put 
him to death that did it, although he was a Macedonian of the city of 
Pella (and none of the meanest) called Polymachus. When he read 
the inscription on it in the Persian tongue he would needs have it 
written in the Greek tongue : and tlfis it was : 0 zan hatsoe'r lhou 
art and whencesoever lh6u comesl, for I bnow licou shalt came : 

356 NOTES 
Cfretg tha[ conqtterea r [he Embire of Persia : Z brcry lhee e¢zvy ¢te ¢zot 
for ghis lil[[e earth tkag covereth ny body: The last words suggest that 
line 64z here should read :  Euie me hOt this little clod of clay.' 
S. D. following 1. 643. The word OEewteeoz in the stage direction 
is plainly corrupt. Dyce suggests that it is a misprint for er¢¢ittt» the 
first word of some Latin sentence on the vanity of human grandeur. 
Mitford, GotL x[«g, for March, 833, P. ex7, referred to by Dyce, 
agrees with him that it is an introduction to some moral reflection, 
but thinks that it is ' N'r »zeum,' 'my spring' (has passed away), 
though he fails to establish the existence of any such Latin sentence. 
Possibly Greene wrote something beginning with Vae; cf. Zookzff 
Glasse, 1.  546,  Crying» vae, OE,ae, wo to this Citi% woe t' where ail the 
Quartos print 've.' 
658. Sesosgriç. Sesostris did hot die as Greene represents; 
having become blind he committed suicide in the fullness of his faine. 
See Diodorus, I. lviii, 'rÇ  rp[a pç roç rptdoura aoEtXoEar»  
P. 108, 662. An be wee& zzeete ezzds. The only sense which can be 
ruade out of these words on which Dyce makes no remark is» as Dr. 
Grosart suggests» to delete  h%  but it is then obscure. 
ACT II, Sc. i. A Sozzg. The song is not inserted, as is often 
the case in the printed copies of the plays» as songs were often intro- 
duced which were not composed specially by the author for the play. 
P. 109, 694. Tlze heauezzly worbmazz, &c. This passage bears some 
resemblance to Friar Laurence's remarks in ozteo and Jz«lie¢» ii. 3- 
'O! mickle is the powerful grace that lies 
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities; 
For nought so vile that on the earth doth lire 
But to the earth some special good doth give.' 
703. The oore lo earl/z. I retain the text» though it hardly 
makes sense. Dyce reads 'rich'; perhaps Greene wrote . worth' 
for ' earth. 
P. 110, 732. there li«rbs. The rime is sacrificed to the grammar in 
the Quarto, and I see no reason why the grammar should be sacrificed 
to the rime by reading» as Dyce and Grosart d% lurke'; possibly 
Greene wrote  must' or ' should ' for ' there.' 
760. çicbrell: a pickerel is a young pik% the diminutive of pike. 
See ares and Halliwell. 
P. 111, 765. thy words: that is» the words appropriate to you» the 
words which describe you. To shift is to cheat or cozen. See the com- 
mentaters on Shakespear% eZerry IVives of IVitdsor, i. 3. 34 : ' I must 

cony-catch, I must shift.' Nares and Halliwell pertinently quote from 
the Riclz Cabi¢et, &c. (616), 'Shifting doth manie times incur the 
indignitie of reproach, and to be counted a shifter is as if a man would 
say in plaine terres a coozener.' 
777. lellers #allenls. 'Lellers lalotts was the phraseology of 
the rime (hOt, as we now say, 'letters 23alenl'). So in Shakespeare's 
Henry V111, Act iii, sc. 2, "Tied it by letters patents"; and in 
Richard II, Act ii. sc. I, " Call in the letters patents," &c.'--29yce's 
779. a case of coffes. The Quartos bave ' dogges' ; Dyce 
silently prints ' cogs»' and this is probably right, the c being changed 
into d. 'Cogs' is synonymous with 'devices' and 'shifts'; but 
possibly'dogges' stands for 'dodges,' vhich means much the saine 
793. addresl: prepared, ready, the sense which the word gene- 
rally has in the Elizabethan writers; see Nares and Halliwell, and 
Dyce's Shakeseare Glossay, s. v. Address. 
t'. 119., 812. warre. There is no necessity to insert 'or' as Dyce 
and Grosart do ; ' warre' is a disyllable, as is very Colnmon with mono- 
syllables ending in 're.' See Abbott's S]zaks2bearian Grammar, 
§ 480. 
820. /,-'cee iz ffraue. It is no doubt absurd to speak of living in 
tbe grave, and one is tempted to correct, with Dce» 'lie,' but the 
lizabethan writers did not trouble themselves about exact accurac 
of expression but wrote d ses«, and it is better not to a|ter tbe text 
nto a fiat and commonp]ace word b whch tbe rhthm suffers. 
84-6. Vhat/ho, &c. Tho = then (A.S.b). The construction 
is awkward, but the sense is clear. The world may account it a 
shalne to him to be a king of men, &c., and yet not to be able to 
govern himself. The Quarto, by an obvious blunder, assigns line 
822 to Ateukin. 
1. 118, 84.5. blacke Iack A black jack vas a kind of pitcher made of 
leather, and coated externally with tar (see N.E.29.). They are still in 
use in Winchester College. It is of frequent occurrence in the 
F.lizabethan dralnatists. So Sutmer's Lasl Will, &c., 'Thou talkst 
and talkst and dar'st not drink to me a black jack.' So in «Iisoqes 
of ,forced 3[arriaffe, sc. I, ' I have heard of many black jacks, 
sir, but never of a blue bottle.' In Cyril Tourneur's Allzeist's 
7"raffedy, ii. 2, there is a play on the word: '\Vhat, ha' you drunk 
yourselves mad. bly Lord, the jacks abused me. I think they are 
the jackes indeed that have abused thee'; 'jack' commonly lneaning 
an upstart or impudent fellow. 
849. wky, t/frs is quincy, &c. What this jargon may mean I 
cannot explain, and probably no one can. It may be compared with 
Quintiliano's jargon in Chapman's May 29ay, iv. 2, ' Te dan, dan tidle, 

35 8 NOTES 
te tan de dan, dan diddle,' &c., and with Lluellen's in Peele's 
Edward I, sc. ii (ed. Bullen) : 
'Who have ve here 
Tutu data, dite dote dura.' 
Ilut it is not uncommon in Elizabethan drama. 
870. Z)isiesl: 'digest,' 'disjest,' or 'disgest' were the forms 
usually employed by the Elizabethan ,vriters. See Nares and 
Halliwell, s. v. Disgest. 
1='. llZt, 899. faine : so ' rein' is generally spelt, so also ' reign.' 
908. IVh«reon deemes, &c. There is no need to query'deems,' 
as Dyce does, and suggest ' dreams,' which Grosart adopts. Itis used 
in the sense of 'judging' or 'thinking about or of,' as in Sidney, 
Aibologie for tgaetrie (ed. Arber, p. 24) : « Let us see hov the Greeks 
named it (Poetry), and how they deemed of it.' So Greene, Preface to 
the Groa[swoq]z af Wit, « beseeching therefore to be deemed hereof as 
I deserve I leave the works,' &c. See infra, 1.  522, ' Stay, gentle Ida, 
tell me what you deeme.' So Milton, tgaradise Lost, viii. 599, 600 : 
'Though higher of the genial bed by far 
And with mysterious reverence I deem.' 
1='. 116, 97. frumi#e: 'frump' is a very common expression for a 
' flout.' 
958. G»at(h)o. Gnatho is the parasite in the Eun»chus of 
Terence, and so the naine became a synonym for that profession ; it 
is constantly so employed by the Elizabethan writers. 
966. misconstres[. Though the forms « construe' and ' miscon- 
strue' are common in Elizabethan English, the forms ' conster' and 
 misconster' are perhaps commoner. In like manner ' venture' and 
'venter' are interchanged; the forms in -er are often employed in 
riming verse. 
971. Sho«M vae disdaine, &c. For the sentiment cf. Shakespeare, 
2 Henry IV, iv. 4- 54, ' Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds' ; and 
Dante, Purgat. xxx.   8-20 : 
'Ma tanto più maligno e più silvestro 
Si fa '1 terren col mal seine, e non colto, 
Quant' egli ha più di buon vigor terrestro.' 
1:'. 117, 986. Ouid sitgs. The passage referred tois probably 
temedia Amoris, 9i-2 (ed. Bullen) : 
'Principiis obsta; sero medicina paratur, 
Cre mala per longas convaluere moras.' 
987. recurelesse : ' recure ' is commonly used for ' cure.' For this 
word see Peele, Edward I, sc. xxv, 'afflicted with recureiess maladies,' 
and for the adverb, Gmatswortt of I/Vit (Works, xii. I28), ' Until he 
perish reeurelessly wounded.' 
988. Peace, Deva5e : an epithet, as Dyce observes, would appear 

to have dropt out: it is of course impossible to supply it; perhaps 
' prating' was the vord. 
P. 19.O, ll0t. Ædiciting : ' The excellent correction ofWalker, Crit. 
txaln, of Tea't of Sakesbeare, &c., ii. 349.'--lgyce's note. Collier, 
Preface to Colerid«e's Seven Lectures on Shakeslbeare , would read 
' suiting.' Grosart reads ' sweet[n]ing.' Dyce quite unnecessarily 
substitutes ' lawless ' for ' lucklesse' on Collier's suggestion. 
1118. disbuse: Dyce alters 'disbuse' into 'abuse,' which is no 
doubt the proper word, but it does not follow that Slipper uses it: 
I therefore retain. 
1:'. 19.1, 1125. tarbox. As tar was used for anointing sores in the sheep, 
a tarbox was the usual accompaniment of a shepherd (see the illustra- 
tions collected by Nares and Halliwell, s.v.), and ' tarbox' was some- 
times used as a synonym for a shepherd; but here it appears to be 
a mere term of contempt. 
1134-5. trillill clown his throat : an onomatopoeic word whi¢h as 
an adverb may be paraphrased 'smoothly, with a pleasant gurgle,' 
' down joyfully with it ! ' So in the Lookin Glasse, 11. 1686-8, ' Corne, 
let vs to the spring of the best liquor : whillst this lastes, tril lill'; 
Peele, Ol, t IVives Talê, sig. G. G. 2, ' We'll to the Church stile and have 
a hot and so trill lill.' In Nash, Lenten SluJffe, it is used as a verb: 
' In nothing but golden cups he would drink or quaffe it, whereas in 
wooden mazers.., they trilliled it off before.' It was used generally 
as an exclamation, so Dekker, Ravens Almanacke, ad init., ' Amongst 
the gentlemen that bave full purses and those that cry "trilill," let the 
world slide' ; and in his Wonderful Year, ad fin., ' The medicine... 
he poured it downe his throat and crying " trillill" he feares no 
1141. E(a)st Sbrin: the naine of some estate which it is, of 
course, impossible to identify. See infra, 1. I229. 
1142. tras]t :  trash' originally meant the clippings of trees, so 
rubbish, trifles. Cotgrave defines it as 'bobulaires, barbouilleries, 
baguenaudes, Triquenisques, Haligornes, nipes, agobilles, triqueden- 
daines.' It is often used as a cant term for money, as inJulius Caesar, 
iv. 3.73-4 : 
' To wring 
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash'; 
and so in the same scene, 1. 26, and Peele, l?attle of Alcazar, iv. I, 
'With laundresses with baggage and with trash.' 
1157. Conuay. See Pistol's remark in rerry Wives of Windsor, 
i. 3- 3 o-1, ' "Convey," the wise it call. "Steal !" foh ! a fico for the 
phrase!' Nares and Halliwell quote from Marston, 'But as I am 
a Crack, I will Convey, crossbite and Cheat upon Simplicius.' It 
became a common synonym for stealing and dishonesty. So too 
' conveyers ' and  conveyance.' See Commentators on Shakespeare, 

360 NOTES 
I _/-Z«ny V2 r, i. 3- , 'Since Henry's death, I fear, there is Conveyance,' 
and I¢ichard ]Z, iv. I. 317, 'Oh, good! convey? conveyers are 
you all.' 
I'. 19,9,, 1164. lifter. For ample information about 'lifting' and 
' lifters '--words which are hOt obsolete now--see Dekker's Jgelfman 
of London, and Greene's Second Pari of Comy-Calchfitff, chapter 
on ' The Discovery of the Lifting Law.' 
1173. ttgell: an angel was worth from 6s. 8d. to IOS. : see Lyly, 
,][olher 17ombie, v. 3- 43 (ed. Bond) ; and perhaps the commonest puns 
in the Elizabethan writers are those on this word, both in the sense of 
angel in its usual meaning and in its less common but literal meaning 
of a message or messenger. 
1186. bure : to bum is to strike or beat. Cf. Massinger, Virin 
17larlyr, 'lqum my mistress'; Middleton, t:amily of Zove, iv. III, 
« Sirrah you would be bummed for your roguery' ; and a Ia&h at 
3Iidnihl, i. I, ' What bave you bumming out there ? A vice, sir.' 
1:'. 19,8, S. D. following 1. 1200. Iaques. The Elizabethan dramatists 
are very fond of introducing foreigners talking in broken English; 
thus we have Italians, Spaniards, Dutchmen, Germans, Frenchmen, 
Scotsmen, Irishmen, Welshmen. For Frenchmen see Pedro in 3[arius 
and Sulla, Dr. Dodypol in the play of that name, Margarita in 
lltinff for a Quiet ZoEe, Angelo in The l/Uonder of a A'ingtlom, the 
French tailor in The Sun's 1)arling, Monsieur John injrack 1)rum's 
ntertainmcnt, Le Frisk in T]ze t?all. 
1:'. 19,4, 1240. Philauli«. That is dp,Xavr&, self-love, Collier's certain 
emendation of the nonsense of the Quartos ; the word, in the form 
of 'philautie,' became naturalized in English; see )gassezer of 
t?envenulo (I62), quoted by Nares and Halliwell, ' They forbeare hot 
to make profession of shewing light to others, being so puffed up with 
philautie, and self-conceit.' 
1 . 19,5, 1269. ,ffenlle#tet : the word ' gentlemen ' is, as Dyce notes, 
plainly addressed to the audience, as in the third scene of the next act 
(11. 555-6) the saine speaker, though alone on the stage, says, ' Is hot 
this a wylie accord, gentlemen ? ' See too The Pinter of IVakefield, 
' my masters,' 1. 880. 
1270. har2be shilliz : a harp shilling was an Irish coin below the 
value of the earliest shilling, which is the point of Andrew's remark. 
,uding in his Annals of llte Coinae, vol. ii. p. 443, says, ' The harp 
first appeared upon the Irish money in HenryVIII's reign. Bya pro- 
clamation issued in 6o6 it was enacted that every of the said Harp- 
shillings should have and bear the name and value only of twelve 
pence Irish according to the old standard of that realm, being in true 
value no more than nine English.' See Ruding, vol. iii. p. 
There are several allusions to this coin in the Elizabethan writers. 
13yce quotes Barnfield's zcotiztm of Lady Pecunia : 


'Lyke to another Orpheus can she play 
Upon her treble harpe whose silver sound 
Inchaunts the eare . . . 
Although such musique some a shilling cost, 
Yet it is worth but ninepence at the most.' 
See too Webster, Famozts History of Sir Tlwmas lVyalt (ed. Dyce, 
p. I47) : 
«His naine was Harper vas it not . . . 
Henceforth all harpers for his sake shall stand 
But for plain ninepence throughout all the land.' 
1271. 2riues : ' hides,' the reading of the Quarto, makes no sense, 
and Dyce substitutes 'hinders' for 'hides,' but I would propose 
'prives.' Itis highly probable that the copy was read to the com- 
positors xvhen the play was set up, and while 'prives' approximates 
in sound to the corruptions, it makes at the saine time better sense 
than ' hinders.' 
P. 19,6, 1327. binde : the reading of the Quarto hardly makes sense, 
but neither Dyce's conjecture ' finde ' nor Grosart's ' bide' is satisfac- 
tory; perhaps Greene wrote 'binde,' which is the technical phrase 
in hawking for tiring or seizing. See Gifford's note on Massinger's 
Guardi»n, ii, and the quotation given from The Gettle»tan's lecrea- 
tion, ' To bind with is the saine as to tire or seize. A hauke is said 
to binde vhen she seizeth ber prey.' 
P. 19,7, 1342. Iucrelius sail]z: there is no such sentiment in Lu- 
cretius. These bold ascriptions of sentiments, sayings, and the like, to 
classical authors are very common with Greene and Lyly particularly. 
1344. lVhal tho? See note on 1. 824. 
t'. 19,8, 1393. Were 1: as often, ' were,' like other words ending in 
' re,' bas in rhythm the power of a disyllable, and there is no need to 
suppose that a word bas dropt out and to supply, as Dyce suggests, 
either ' if' belote ' were,' or ' more' before ' baser.' 
1415-16. And noble mindes, &c. For the sentiment cf. Marlowe's 
Dido, Queen of Carlhae, ii. x : 
'Aeneas is Aeneas were he clad 
In weeds as bad as ever Irus wore.' 
P. 19.9, 1423. tmeele: Dyce thinks that there is corruption here 
because the line does not rime, and 1Ir. Deighton in his Coj«cl¢«ral 
Readings, p. 85, proposes to substitute ' unmeet is such attire' for 
' thy Mistress is vnmeete.' But there is no good reason for alteration : 
these lapses are habitual in Greene's rimed verses where there can be 
no suspicion of corruption. 
P. 1131, 1483. I cannol hale: Ida's remark reminds us of Antigone's 

362 NOTES 
149-1..Pura: this suffix 'a' is often round in the Elizabethan 
poets, but itis common in comic, semi-comic, or lyrical passages, 
and is sometimes, as here, introduced for the rime. Cf. Massinger, 
The Picture, ii : 
'Blow lustily my lad and drawing nigh-a 
Ask for a lady which is clept Sophia'; 
and Middleton, Black Book (Works, Bullen, viii. 29): 
'O Monsieur Diabla 
I '11 be chier guest at your tabla'; 
Lyly, Saibho and Phao, ii. 3- Ioo-I (ed. Bond) : 
'Merry Knaues are we three-a 
When our songs do agree-a.' 
In songs and lyrics it is vêry common, as in the song in the second 
act of The Alaydes Metamohosis, ii. 2. o3-6 (ed. Bond) : 
' Round about, round about, in a fine Ring-a 
Thus we daunce, thus we daunce, and thus we sing-a.' 
1499. saire bcset. I have no hesitation in accepting with Dyce 
Walker's most felicitous emendation. 
1:'. 189., 1526. 19ictamnum: see Virgil, Aen. xii. 4t I seqq. : 
' Hic Venus indigno nati concussa dolore 
Dictalnnum genetrix Cretaea carpit ab Ida, 
Puberibus caulem foliis et flore comantem 
Purpureo: non illa feris incognita capris 
Gramina, cure tergo volucres haesere sagittae.' 
and Aristotle, I4ist. An. ix. 6. I 
rov/adro)u ]1 r, ad)/aart. Cf. Greene's Carde of 1rancie, 'The deare 
being strodhen though nêver so deep feedeth on the hearb Dictamnum 
and forêwith is healed.' 
. 13, 1563. bennilesse ench. At the east end of Carfax Church 
(now demolished) in Oxford there was a seat for loungers which was 
known as Pennyless Bench, and so to sit on Pennyless Bench became 
a synonym for extreme poverty. Middleton in his tlack look (Col- 
lected Works, Bullen, vii. 27) refers to this : ' The rime was at hand 
like a pickpurse, that Pierce should be called no more pennyless, like 
the mayor's bênch at Ox:ford.' There is more than one allusion to 
it in Elizabêthan writers. Greenê again refers to it in The Groats- 
,orNt of lUit (Works, xii. 33), ' In this sorrow he sate doune on 
pennilêsse bench.' So Eubhues (ed. Bond, ii. 29, 1. I7), ' That êuêry 
stoole he sate on, was penilês bênch, that his robes were rags'; 
Massinger, City Madam, iv. z : 
'Bid him bear up, he shall hOt 
Sit long on penniless bench.' 

In Philips's Sfilendid Shill#t.¢ there is a reference to it: 
' Beneath thy shelter, Pennyless, I quaff 
The cheering cup.' 
See Warton's Comanion fo the Guide, &c., pp. I5-I6. 
1570. For Coventry blue see note on tginner of WakoEeld, I. 382. 
1571. len2benny loo'um. This word assumes in Elizabethan 
English four forms--' lokram,' ' lockran,' ' lockeram,' and ' locorum ' ; 
it is a sort of coarse linen, and is derived from the French locrenan. 
In the Dictionnaire de Trévou:t- it is defined as ' sorte de grosse toile 
de chanvre écru,' and is said to bave derived its naine froln Locrenan 
in Basse Bretagne, a place about three leagues from Quimper, 
where it was manufactured. See Nares and Halliwell, s. v., and the 
Commentators on Shakespeare, Cor. ii. I. 228. In Greene it is 
generally spelt ' lockeram.' 
1576. storrie: apparently a corruption, and Dyce, observing that 
he had never met with the word, does not attempt to explain it. 
P. 134, 1595. î lakst skins. Collier conjectured 'Iackass'; but 
the word 'jackass,' according to the .A/:'./9., bas not been round 
earlier than the eighteenth century. 
Calf is not very appropriate. Perhaps Corke (as a material for 
slippers) should be read. 
1610. a Ra2bier and Daffffer. Dyce adopts Collier's emendation 
'a reaper and digger,' observing that in his former edition he had 
retained the text of the Quarto and had added in a note 'from the 
cutler's reply it seems that Slipper miscalled the weapons.' This no 
doubt is what Slipper had done, but itis hardly warrantable to 
assume that he had mispronounced them in the particular way in- 
dicated by Collier's substitution. I therefore retain the text. 
1625. clocks on Shroue-tuesday. Shrove Tuesday was the holiday 
of the Prentices, and was generally a day of uproar and riot. See 
Dekker's Seven Deadly Sins of London, p. 35 : 'They like Prentices 
upon Shrove Tuesday take the law into their own hands and do what 
they list.' So Spendall says in Greene's Tu quoque, 'I vill make 
another Shrove Tuesday for them'; but countless references to this 
day and its doings are to be found in the Elizabethan dramatists. 
It was a day on which everything vas 'upside out.' Cf. Fenner's 
Com2bler's Commonwe«itlt, p. 17, ' But my braines like the wandering 
stars or clocks on Shrove Tuesdays are never at quiet.' 
P. 135, 1626. Who Sisley of the Whighton vas I cannot discover. 
t636. The words 'wee, wee' are probably meant for 'oui, oui,' 
picked up from Jaques, infra, I. I722; 'oui' is spelt 'wee' in the 
1639. youffone : i.e. 'are you gone ?' Dyce's conjecture 'gome,' 
a man, is inadmissible, as the word, though common in M. E., has not 

364 NOTES 
been round luter than about I516 , and was by no means a con- 
temptuous terre. 
P. 136, 1690. cal[etla. For the derivation and history of this word see 
Nares and Halliwell. Its employment in the form of ' caIlet,' ' callat,' 
' calot,' and ' callot ' in the sense of a trull, strumpet, or scold, is very 
common in the Elizabethan writers. 
:P. 137, 1698. ,lor.glay. Morglay was the sword of Sir Bevisof 
Southampton, and became the common synonym for a sword, as is 
abundantly illustrated by Nares and HalliweI1. 
P. 138, 1738. Tkraciaz Sto,ze : from Eufl/ttes, ' There is a stone in 
the floud of Thracia, yt whosoeuer findeth it, is neuer after grieued.' 
(Lyly's Works, il. 9 o, ed. Bond). 
1741-2. a swarme o.f ]ees: an adaptation of the story told by 
Pausanias, ix. 33, and Aelian, V./-L xii. 45, about the bees settling on 
the infant Pindar's lips. 
1759. Of e«ills ¢zeeds: Dyce proposes to correct the mette by 
reading 'needeth,' and Grosart by reading 'needful,' but there is no 
need to alter, as the word is practically a disyllable like ' sweet,' tfamlel, 
i. 3. 8; 'seek,' tteny VIII, iii. I. 38: 'sleep,' [acbelh, ii. I. 51; 
' feel,' id. 5. 58; ' steel,' Coriohmus, i. 9. 45- See Abbott's Shakes- 
tearian Grammar, p. 379- Monosyllables with long vowels when 
in emphatic places are hot uncommonly treated as disyllables. The 
reference to Aristotle is in tthics, II. ix. 4, grl ov rob [oEov rvdv 
Cf. too De/mit. Ckrist. iii. 2, ' De duobus malis minus est eligendum.' 
P. 189, 1761. 91ezl: from the simple sense of' mix' blend has offen 
the meaning of 'to mingle together, confuse, confound, or pollute.' 
Cf. Lookbzff Glasse, 1. 52I, ' My Hesperus by cloudie death is blent' ; 
Spenser, 3lolher Htllart's Tale, 1. 329, ' And thy throne royal with 
dishonour blent'; and [;aerie Queee, ii. 5.6, 'So hast thou off with 
guile thine honour blent.' 
P. 143, 1899. Daw . . . OE, : to daw is to awaken, so to revive or 
resuscitate, not to daunt or frighten, as Nares and Halliwell explain, 
confounding it with another word. _IV. '. D. quotes the ][orle 
ID'qrlh«r, xi. o,' The Queene fell to the earth in a dead swoone and 
then Syr Bors took her up and dawed her.' So Sir Thomas More, 
'Tyll wlth good rappes 
And heavy clappes 
He dawde him up againe'; 
and Webster, I.Veslward Ho, v. I, 'An you be men help to dawe 
Mistress Tenterhook.' It must be distinguished from daw, to daunt 
or frighten, as in Ben Jonson, Bevil's an Ass, iv. , ' You daw him too 
much, Sir.' 
1917. IVill: require, command, as often. 

1:'. 145, 1981. 32". of Eng. To the speeches of the King of England 
throughout this scene is prefixed lrius. Collier remarks, t]is[, of 
£nglis/ Z)rama[ic toe[ry, iii. I61,  It is a singular circumstance that 
the King of England is called lrius, as if Greene at the time he wrote 
had some scruple in naming Henry VIII on account of the danger 
of giving offence to the Queen and Court.' Dyce seems to doubt this 
view on the ground that it is only in the present scene that the king 
is called lrius, and that in a stage direction (see su23ra , foll. l. 989) 
the Quarto gives the naine Arius when the King of England cannot 
be meant. Collier's view is probably right ; in any case the ' Arius' 
in the former scene is plainly a mere error of the printer, for the 
King of England had no part in the scene. 
P. 146, 1995. _7doseall: Roseal is not, as it might seem, a 
purely poetical word, for Elyot uses it in his Governoure, ii. I2, ' The 
roseall colour which was wont to be in his visage turned into sallowe "; 
and long afterwards Marvell, in his Rehearsal Tran@osed, ed. 
Grosart, iii. p. 47I, ' I will henceforth admire only the maidenly 
modesty and rosial blushes,' &c. It occurs twice in Locrine, ' These 
roseal cheeks mixed with a snowy white,' iv. I ; 'That roseal face,' 
v.I. See too Sylvester's Z?u 1?atlas, i. 2, 'The honour'd cradle of the 
roseall morning.' In Jack yDrums Enlertain»,ent, ii. 2, 
' Softly sip 
The Roseall juice of your reviving breath,' 
it is perhaps used for roscial, ' dewy,' or possib]y it may be used like 
fiurflureus in Horace, i.e. divine, heavenly. 
2011. Cil Tit2ts Andronicus, iv. 4- 82--5 : 
'The Eagle suffers little birds to sing, 
And is hOt careful what they mean thereby, 
Knowing that with the shadow of his wing 
I-te can at pleasure stint their melody.' 
03. ¢]las: this title is very common, and always employed 
respectfully. Gifford (sec his note on ' Mas Stone,' Ben Jonson, 
il. I) corrects Vhalley for explaining it as a contraction of ' Master' 
by contending that it was from the Italian 3lesser, familiarly applied 
to a priest or person above the lower rank of lire. But it is certainly 
a contraction of 'toaster.' See Greene's Z)ef«nce of Conny-Catc/dng 
(Works, xi. o)» ' Mec thinkes I heare your maship learnedly reply.' 
It was applied to various ranks. Cf. Mas, my Lord,' 7"roublesome 
2Veign of It'ing Jo/tn ; ' Mas broker,' Jonson, Slale of e7xs, il. I : 
 Mas doctor,' t:rier ?acon and t:rie'r t?oaj,, I. 826 ; 'Mas Monke,' 
Greene's S#anis/ zrasfue (Works, v. 266); 'Mas Constable,' Lire 
ami Z)eath of ed ?rovne (id. xi. 14)- 
P. 147, 2046. From Ovid, 4rs Ztmal. il. 279-80: 
'Ipse licet Musis venias comitatus, Homere, 
Si nihil attuleris, ibis, Homere foras.' 

366 NOTES 

2056. 2booEvle : ' poil,' or ' poule,' or ' powl,' is to pillage or plunder, 
and is frequently joined with ' pill,' which means the saine thing ; for 
which see 1. 2063. 
l:'. lZ18, 2080-.3. With these lines cf. Tennyson, Bforle D'Arthur: 
'The old order changeth, yielding place to new, 
And God fulfils himself in many ways, 
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.' 
209.3. Both Dyce and Grosart print the text of the Quarto, which 
makes no sense. I venture to conjecture and print ' Priest.' 
P. 149, 2119. For ttob and Sib see Nares and Halliweli. 
1 . 150, 2153. seene: curiously parallel with the Latin s2ectalus, tried, 
proved, skiiled, very common in Elizabethan English. Cf. Greene's 
Tritamero (Second Part) (Works, iii. I32), 'Weli seene in the art of 
divination'; 'As one well seene in Philosophie,' Greene's ,4rcadia 
(ht'. vi. 93). It is common in this sense in the prose and poetry of the 
seventeenth century, but became obsolete in the eighteenth century. 
2163. ' She' is evidently a misprint for ' he,' for Nano is keeping 
up the deception. 
1 . 151, S. D. following i. 2272. Dyce inserts the stage direction after 
the line ' away with them' (1. e272), observing that the Quarto makes 
Oberon and the Antiques enter too soon, and adding that the stage 
directions in our old dramas, which were generally printed from 
prompters' copies, are often prematurely marked in order to give the 
players notice to be in readiness. This is no doubt true, but there 
seems to me no reason to alter the text. Oberon and the others enter 
while Slipper and the King are talking. I prefer therefore to keep to 
the text, supplying the naine of the speaker, the King of Scotland, 
before the speech ' Why stay you ?' adopting Dyce's arrangement and 
reading by printing ' them' for' the' and taking Lords for the vocative. 
In the stage direction, Dyce's substitution of 'mops' (grimaces) for the 
nonsensical 'pots' ofthe Quarto must be adopted. The 'Adam' of 
the Quarto is no doubt, as Dr. Grosart suggests, the name of the 
actor who took the part of Oberon. 
P. 154, 2310. wcent : cf. Z)«mon atdPilhias, ' He is not innocent 
whom the king thinketh nocent,' Dodsley (edit. 744, vol. i. p. 253), 
and Taylor (Water-poet), Arewsfrom N Place (reprint I87o, p. II), 
 And whether he be innocent or nocent.' 
P. 156, 2380. Ah, miffhtie P'ince, this A'izzff azd ] an oze .t This con- 
struction is common in the Elizabethan dramatists. See Sir CIA,o»zon 
atd Sir Clao'des (Dyce, p. 5ol, 1st col.), ' For he and I ara both of 
one consanguinity' ; I.ondon ]rod. iii, ' Huswife, you hear that ),ou 
and I ana wrong'; Heywood, tïzgl. Trav. i. 2, 'What need I fear 
the ghost and I am one' ; tVtilas[t'r : 
'Two things so opposite and so contrary 
As he and I ara.' 

1 . 157, 2403. aider is of course the old genitive plural of all. 'Alder 
best,' 'alder fairest,' 'alder first' and the like are common in 
Chaucer: Skeat's Glossary, s.v. This archaism is hot uncommon in 
Elizabethan English. Cf. 2 /ffenry Ioef, i. I. 28, 'With you, mine 
alderliefest sovereign ' ; Gascoigne's IZoyage inlo Holland, 5, 'And 
lo, mine alderliefest lord, I must indite'; Marston, Dutc]z Couresan, 
i. 2, ' O mine alderliver (alderliefer) love.' It came to be used loosely 
without reference to its derivation as a sort of superlative ; so Marston, 
'Pretty sweetheart of mine alderliefest affection.' For other illustra- 
tions see the commentators on 2 14en. IzI, i. I. 28. 


Page 181. TITLE. tinner. There are four variations of the spelling 
of this word--binner, the spelling of the Quartos ; inder, so spelt in 
the reprint of I632, and often in seventeenth-century writers ; yndare 
and innar in the lromlM, lare,, p. 400. It is derived fron the A. S. 
yndan, 'to pen up,' which is itself derived from A. S. î3und, a pound 
fol" cattle, so that it properly means one who impounds stray cattle, or 
as Junius in his Elymoloffi¢on under Pende, 'qui pecora ultra fines 
vagantia septo includit.' 
I:'. 183, 10. Swearing by the sword was a very common form of oath. 
Cf. l[u¢]z Ido agoul l"Vol]in, iv. I. 278-8o , ' By my sword, Beatrice, 
thou lovest me .... I will swear by it that you love me.' For ample 
illustrations see Nares and Halliwell, s.v., and Steevens' note on 
' Swear by my sword,' tamlet, i. 5- 154- 
11. For lo relieue. Dyce unnecessarily conjectures ' Or.' 
P. 184, 47. VayIe t]tcirfilumes : ' lower,' French avaler. Cf. Peele, 
tïdzvard , sc. xii, 'So vail your budgets to Robin of the Mountain'; 
Marlowe, tïdward I (ed. Dyce, p. I6), 'Whom he vouchsafes for 
vailing of his bonnet, One good look'; Lyly, I¢roman Dz lire «Iloon, 
v. x. x64 (ed. Bond), ' The Iocund trees that vald when she came near.' 
For other instances see commentators on Shakespeare, Alerc/mnt of 
[oeenice, i. I. 28, and Nares and Halliwell. The word had become 
obsolete at the beginning of the eighteenth century. 
55. lisle out : cf. DoEra, 1. 726, 'And listen out your fellow XVily,' 
i.e. inquire after. CL Nash, Stranffe IVeeves, sig. E. 4, ' He had a very 
fait cloak . . . if you be wise play the good husband and listen after 
it.' So ' hearken out '; cf. IVily lYeffuiled, i. I, 'Now if I can hearken 

368 NOTES 
out some wealthy marriage for her,' and Faire Em, iii. I I, 'Let us 
leave this guest and hearken after out king.' 
P. 185, 80. ouer[hwart denial[: see note on A@hotsus, 1. 
95. Vou of lhe bench. Dyce suggests that you' is a misprint 
for yon,' adding that the whole passage is corrupt ; surely the passage, 
both in construction and in meaning, is clear enough, and there is no 
reason for altering the text. 
1:'. 186, 103-4. I have adopted Dyce's silent rearrangement of the 
lines, which mends the metre. 
127-8. ea[e [hem, or eate ty da.ggers I3oyn[. Cf. what Nash, 
S¢raunge lVewes, sig. C. 3, tells of Greene : ' Had hee lived and thou 
shouldst so unartificially and odiously libeld against him as thou hast 
done hee would have ruade thee an example of ignominy to all ages that 
are to corne, and driven thee to eate thine ovin book buttered, as I saw 
him make an appariter once in a taverne eate his citation, vaxe and 
all, very handsomely served betwixt two dishes.' In The Fbsi Part of 
Sir]ohn OldcasNe, il. I, Harpool makes the Summoner do the saine 
thing : ' If this be parchment and this wax, eat you this parchment and 
this wax or I will make parchment of your skin. Dispatch, devour,' &c. 
P. 187, 141. hight2Nn«er: Dyce's certain correction for 'right.' 
145. It is better to divide the line as the Quartos do, for the sake 
of emphasis. 
158. that strides a hunce : not to leave even a child of them alive, 
one who 'equitat in arundine longa' (Hor. ça[. ii. 3- 248). Dyce. 
159. and, wan),ng, age vnlo lhe graue: to age, in the sense of to 
grow old, has been in regular use from the fourteenth century. The 
expression in the text, though condensed, is quite intelligible. It may 
be compared with Tennyson's Lucretius: 
'Gout and stone that break 
Body toward death.' 
P. 188, 170. in any roade: inroad or raid. Cf. Peele, Edward I, 
OTo make out roads in England mightily,' sc. il ; and again, « lIeet 
me on out roads in England's ground,' id. sc. ix. So in Edward III, 
i. 2, « Persist, with eager roads beyond their city York.' 
200. r,«bies, @arks : Dyce suggests ' ruby-sparks,' with which he 
might have compared Tennyson's elIorle D'Arthur, « AI1 the haft 
twinkled with diamond sparks'; but sparkes' seems quite right. 
Halliwell and Gifford say that the word occurs 'several times in old 
plays in the sense of ' diamond.' It does occur undoubtedly, but, 
both, very rarely, as in Shirley, 2?bd in a Cage, ii. , « This madonna 
invites me to a banquet for my discourse ; t'other bona roba sends me 
a spark, a third a ruby, a fourth an emerald.' Perhaps it simply means 
a flashing gem or jewel : in Massinger, Tke Piclure, il. -'- : 
Good madam what shall he do with a hoop ring 
And a spark of diamond in it.' 

So in Pepys's lPiary, Feb. 8, I667, 'She showed me her ring of a 
Turkey stone set with little sparks of diamonds.' In Chapman, 
IVidows T«ars, i. I, 'The lovely sparke, the bright Laodice' is no 
doubt a metaphorical application : ail then which can be certainly said 
about it is that it means a flashing jewel, hOt necessarily a diamond. 
See Davies's Sutîlemocl, rry EnElisk Glossary, s.v. 
P. 189, 213. stand on their towzes : see note on A12bhonstts, 1.32. 
220. by no begers swore : that is, swore by no mean people ; the 
phrase is from the Romance, ' Hee swore by no beggars but by the lyfe 
of good King Richard '; cf. Sidney's .4rcadia, lib. ii. cap. 26, 'I sweare 
unto you by no little ones I had rather give my teeme of Oxen,' &c. ; 
also Gosson's Schoole of Abuse, p. 33, 'Caligula ... bid his horse to 
supper.., and swore by no bugs that hee would make him a Consul' 
(,: E. 2).). 
22. Cf. Tilus A«dronicus, iv. 4- 80, 'King, be thy thoughts im- 
perious, like thy naine.' 
.'233. fifre : i.e. beauty. 
P. 190, 2.5.5. Scrasblesea. Dyce conjectures that this is a corruption 
either for Scrivelsby, a parish in Lincolnshire, in the south division o the 
hundred of Gartree, or Scamblesby, a parish in the north division of the 
saine hundred. But why should the place of meeting be in Lincolnshire ? 
271. JVouKhl : Dyce would read ' None,' but Dr. Brinsley Nichol- 
son's emendation is much happier. He contributed some textual 
corrections of the present play to Notes atd Queri«s, Series vi. vol. 
iii. p. 8I, and where I cite him it is from the saine place. Possibly the 
author wrote 'hOt' ; cf. the widespread dialectal form 'nobbut' tor only. 
P. 192,331. lly husba,zds lo¢te, &c. : there is no necessity for Dyce's 
alteration of 'ioynes,' the aphetic form of 'enjoins,' into 'join'; the 
singular Ibllows the number of the last substantive. 
ACT II. Sc. ii. tnter ohle ./usKrotte , &c. Not only is there a 
change ofscene, but some engagement must have taken place, in which 
King James surrendered to Musgrove. From 1. I58 seqq. it would 
appear that the Middleham Castle there mentioned was identical with 
John a' Barley's Castle. 
P. 193, 367. Sousewife: a woman who sells 'souse' or brine for pick- 
ling. Dyce says that 'souse' means properly the head, feet, and ears of 
swine boiled and pickled. In The Tlree Zadies ofZ«ndo;«, Dodsley, 
ri. e9, it means 'hog's face': 'Hast thou no great bagpudding nor 
hogs face that is called so¢tse.' Cf. too IUilj, t?eKuiled , Dodsley 
(ed. I744), ix. e4o. In ' Poor Robin,' quoted by Nares and Halliwell, 
we have this triplet : 
'Nor is a breast of pork to be 
Despised by either thee or me, 
The head and feet will make good souse.' 
' Souse-wife' was a common term. Cf. Greene's Quiflflefor an Ustart 

37 ° NOTES 
Courlier (Works, xi. 284), ' What the souse-wives are able to make of 
the inwards.' 
374. a reene owne. 'To give a woman a green gown' was to 
roll her on the grass; hence 'to take a green gown' was often used 
to imply loss of virginity. See the quotations in N. E./3., s.v. Green, 
ak. I. g. ; also a ballad called The Greene Gowne in the IVeslmbtster 
Z)rolleries (ed. Ebsworth), Appendix I. iv, of which a couplet may 
suffice : 
'And Prudence prevented what Rachel repented, 
But Kate was contented to take a green govn,' 
and Middleton's Fait Quarrd, ii. 3, 'A yard of green gown put together 
on the inturn is as good a medicine for the green sickness as ever 
P. 194, 382. Couentrie New. The manufacture of blue thread was 
formerly a material part of the trade of Coventry. Gifford, in his note 
on' I3e not Coventry blue' in Ben Jonson's $lasque of Owls, quoted an 
old writer, W. Stafford, ' I bave heard that the chier trade of Coventry 
was heretofore in making blew thred and then the town was riche 
ever in maner onely and now our thredde cornes all from beyond sea.' 
Allusions to Coventry blue are very common. Cf. Greene's[ames 
1. I585 ; Greene's Vision, X.Vorks, xii. 225, ' His ruffe was a fine lockram 
stiched very faire with Couentrie blew,' and the Qui;befor an brstart 
Courtier, 'Vorks, x. 222 ; 13en Jonson, Gi;bsies Ietamorhosis, ' I bave 
lost my thimble and a skein of Coventry blue.' Taylor the Water- 
poet, çhort ]elatio of a Long.[ourtte.v, speaks of ' Coventry most 
famous for true blue.' 
395. Dyce inserts ' set.' 
P. 185, 411. vdttd horses. Allusions to velvet as being costly, fine, 
and luxurious are very common in the Elizabethan writers. See Greene's 
Quiie for an bstart Courtier, assim. Abundant illustrations are 
given by the commentators on Shakespeare,  Henry IV, iii. . 6o, 
'Velvet-guards and Sunday-citizens.' A velvet jacket was part of the 
distinctive dress of a prince's or nobleman's steward (see Nares and 
Halliwell). So that velvet horses mean fine horses such as belonged 
to some rich man or nobleman, horses caparisoned with velvet. Cf. 
Greene's Stgznish Ah¢uerado, Works, v. 260, 'The trappings and furni- 
ture of his horse richly studdied, his footcloth of velvet,' and t'ufihues 
kis Censure, &c., Works, vi. 57, 'An Arabian courser whose furniture 
was blue velvet,' and Jislriomasli:, Act v. I, 'I wonder how mach 
velvet will apparell me and my horse.' 
430. The Quarto gives this line to George, but it plainly belongs, 
as Dyce prints, to Jenkin. 
t'. 10ô, 465. lhey shall amend: for this use of 'shall'=should see 
cf. Abbott's Shakes;bearian Grammar, § 3 5. 
476. aby Ntis blow : pay the penalty for it, from the A. S. 

Cf. Spenser, Fa«ri« ue«n, iv. I. 53, 'Yet thou, false squire, his fault 
shall deare aby' ; and JDowtoEall of Robert Earl of ttunttnfflon : 
'Had I his sword and buckler here 
You should aby these questions.' 
It is frequently confused with ' abide.' In Shakespeare's l£dsummer 
Night's Z?ream, iii. 2. I75, the Folios read, 'Lest to thy peril thou 
abide it dear,' and so in the saine scene, 11. 333-4 : 
'Never so little show of love to ber, 
Thou shalt abide it.' 
479. fïrercules aœeahsl lwo : ' Ne Hercules quidem contra duos' ; 
cf. Erasmi, tdagia, sub ibrov.; cf. lalclt al Iidniffht, i. I, ' Cousin 
Hercules vas not stand against two.' 
P. 197, 500. considering me. Dyce's queried proposal to read 'con- 
ceding' is needless. The verb 'consider' often meant 'to reward 
(a person) by doing something for him.' Here it takes a double 
object, of the person and the thing to be done by way of 'con- 
510. a firoibhecie. See Introduction. 
1:'. 198, 539. «rartilmas or .[artl«mas is a common corruption for 
Martinmas, the feast of Saint Martin, the tth of November. See 
Steevens's note on 2 I-«nry IV, ii. 2. IIoE. 
8. [Zenus, for me. This passage is plainly corrupt. I adopt 
Dyce's conjecture, 'of ail the Gods alone,' without approving it. 
Ieed, in his reprint of the play in Dodsley, prints, 'Venus, be for 
me, and she alone.' 'Venus for me, and ail gods aboue' would be 
nearer the original. Dr. Grosart, interpreting and as an = if, thinks 
there is no need to disturb the text of the Quarto, and is contented 
with nonsense. The probability is that a line or more bas dropt 
out and the passage is hopeless. 
1:'. 199, 553. ctauhter is here, as in 556, a trisyllable. 
572. The Quarto omits to specify that the xit refers to Wily. 
581. in a ibrouerbe sahL "What the proverb referred to is I ara 
unable to say, unless it be'An old man who weds a buxom young 
maiden bids fair to become a freeman of t3uckingham,' that is, 'an 
ass and something more.' See lay's lroverbs (ed. t3ohn, p. I98). 
1 . 9.00,620. iberseuerance : power of perceiving, discernment. Dyce 
compares 7he 14idow (a play attributed to Jonson, Fletcher, and 
Middleton), iii. : 
' Methinks the words 
Themselves should make him do't, had he but the perseverance 
Of a cock-sparrow.' 
Cf. Grove's ttistory of telops and l-Ii2bfiodamia, 1587, sig. H. I I 11 : 
'And when perceiverance did him take 
That every wight was gone, &c.' 
1:'. 9.O1, 629. leese. This verb, now superseded by the cognare 

37z NOTES 
synonym ' lose,' is very common in Elizabethan English, both in prose 
and poetry. (See _/V. . D.) 
638. »zy honor ChrisL Dyce queries 'honoured'; there is no 
need to alter. Cf. 'wonder Vandermast' in Frier lacon, &c., and 
the note on it. 
602. I restore the metre by supplying 'I.' 
658. The f2uartos and all the editors read 'But'; it makes no 
sense and I correct ' It'; 'holde you taske' is analogous to the 
common phrase 'hold you play.' 
1:'. 203, 700. ber ielous father. The blank verse in this play is so 
irregular that rearrangement to make it smooth is hardly necessary, 
but Walker, in his CriL xa»t. oJ" Shakesbeare, &c., proposes fo 
arrange the passage thus : 
'Her jealous father doth wait over her 
With such suspicious eyes, that if a man 
But dally by her feet, he thinks it straight 
A witch to charm his daughter.' 
708. vitch, though originally common, is generally feminine, but is 
often applied to men. So Iachimo of Posthumus : 
'Such a holy vitch 
That he enchants societies into him.' 
(Cymbeline, i. 6. I66-7). So Charmian of the soothsayer, « I forgive 
thee for a witch' (Antony and Cleopa[ra, i. z. 42). Latimer uses it in 
the same way: «We run hither and thither to vitches or sorcerers 
whom we call wise men' (Serinons reached in Lincolnshire, 
sermon v). So Tourneur, Revener's Traged),, v, "Tis well he died: 
he was a vitch.' Possibly it here means a charm or spell. 
715. Tell ttee, s,eele latte. Dyce supposes, but surely unneces- 
sarily, that something has dropt out of the text here; it makes 
perfectly good sense. 
726. lislen ou See note on 1. 55- 
1:'. 204, 745. Dyce proposes to mend the metre by transposition, 
And one of valiance more resolute.' 
750-1. The repetition of 'yet' makes Dyce suspect some cor- 
ruption, but such carelessness is not infrequent. 
755. »tanner of a rot«erbe : ' As good as George a Greene' was 
a proverb. See Tarlton's IVewes out of Puffa[orie (ed. 63o, p. 3), 
'Were you as good as George a Greene I would hOt take the toile at 
your bandes.' See too IVtt's t¢ecrea[ions (I64O), where it occurs. 
Ritson, Robhz Hood B«llads, vol. i. Introd. p. xxxii, says it is still 
a common saying. Cf. Ray's lroverbs (ed. ]3ohn, 188). 
1:'. 205, 787. bu 9, his reason. Dyce alters the reading, without any 
note, into 'by' for ' aby,' but there is no reason why the text of the Quarto 
should hot be retained. 

800. itto: commonly for ' unto.' 
801. Dyce properly alters 'him' into them'; sec the account 
of what is referred to in the preceding scene. 
t'. 9O6, 805. Cuddy is not very consistent, for just before (1. 759) he 
said that he had never seen George a Greene. 
821-2. Dr. Nicholson would regulate the couplet thus : 
'But, gentle king, and Edward's betters both, 
For so you would aver, I salute you.' 
t . 9O7, 859. dates: here, of course, a disyllable. 
862..4td Mil re2bent. ' Nill,' will not, A.S. tyle, contraction of 
ne wile. The preterite was nolde. It seems a pity that this useful and 
euphonious verb should bave become obsolete. 
867. bright.., ofblee. A stock expression in the old ballads, and 
always poetical in Middle English. Cf. The AZarriaffe of Sir Gawayne, 
' that bride so brigltl ofblee,' and innmnerable other places. The word 
is pure A.S. blêo, colour or hue. So in t?loev, ]Vortherz IVind, Harl. 
MSS. 2253, ' Hire bleo blykyeth so bryght.' It generally means com- 
plexion. Cf. Grimoald, Tottd's 2]liscellany (ed. Arber, p. Ioo), 'Who 
nothing loves in woman but her blee,' and often in the ballads ; but 
sometimes it is used in the sense of colour, and applied to inanimate 
objects, as in The t?oy and lhe AZantle, Percy, vol. iii. p. 5 : 
She threw downe her mantle 
That bright vas of blee.' 
It was becoming obsolete in Greene's time, and is hot found in Shake- 
speare or Ben Jonson. 
871. bal ot his necke. A bat is a club. Cotgrave in his French 
Z)icl. explains ' Baston' as a staffe, bat or cudgell' ; 'With this my bat 
I will beate out thy braines,' lZucedorus, iii.  ; ' l'se try whether your 
costard or my bat be the barder,' Shakespeare,/t'. Lear, iv. 6. 248. In 
Coriolanus, i. I. 57 it is distinguished from a club.  Neck' is frequently 
used in the sense of ' shoulders.' Sec Dekker, Bel»tan ofLondot, sig. 
E. 2, A long staffe on his necke.' See, for abundant illustration, 
Fariner and Steevens's notes on ' With bills on their necks,' As J/ou 
£ike Il, i. 2. 132. 
875. ashen planke. Dyee originally conjectured 'plant,' but after- 
wards adopted Rev. J. Mitford's conjecture 'planke.' 
P. 208, 878. mornbtg day. For 'day' Dyce suggests the obvious 
correction ' ray,' but prints the reading of the Quartos. 
880. AIf masters. Sec note on James IU, 1. 1269. 
897. Dr. Nicholson was the first to point out, what bas escaped 
the notice of all the editors, that ' Wakefield' is an obvious misprint 
for ' Bradford.' In 1. 75 George a Greene had told Jenkin to go to 
I3radford, and it is after his walk there that Jenkin is thirsty and seeks 
for a companion to drink with him, and at the saine time gives him 

3 74 NOTES 
information about Grime's house. It is of the Bradford custom, hOt 
of the Wakefield, that he is ignorant. 
903. Cf. Ray's Proverbs (ed. Bohn, p. 69), « The greatest barkers 
bite not sorest.' Ital. c Carie che abbaja non morde.' French c Chien 
qui aboye ne mord pas.' 
909. clalbjerdudffeon. The exact explanation of this word, which 
is so often found in the Elizabethan dramatists, is hOt easy to deter- 
mine : its meaning is clear. In his t?nff, lish Villanies Dekker relis us 
it means ' a beggar borne,' and in the Catlipt.ç IPictianarf a ' Clapper- 
dudgeon' is described as ' a thorough bred beggar, a beggar born of 
a beggar.' So in Beaumont and Fletcher, egff, ar's ush, ii.  : 
'Jarkman or Patrico or Clapper dudgeon 
Frater or Abram man I speak to ail 
That stand in fair election for the title 
Of King of Beggars'; 
and Ben Jonson, Zhe Stahle of News, ii. x : 
' What ? A clafilberdudgeon ! 
That's a good sign, to have the beggar follow him 
So near, at bis first entry into fortune.' 
The derivation of the word is more difficult. Dudgeon was a word 
used for the wooden handles or hilts of knives or daggers ; Cotgrave 
explains a 'dague à roëlles' as a Scottish dagger, or dudgeon-haft 
dagger; it then came to mean by metonymy the hilt or handle itself, 
or the knife or dagger, as in lac3eth, ii. I. 46, and I-udibras, ii. 379- 
So Collier explains the word as meaning that beggars clapped the dish 
with a knife or dudgeon to attract attention, and this is supported by 
Beaumont and Fletcher in Z'he Teffff, ar's Buse, iv. 5 : 
ci would my clapper 
Hung in his baldrick» what a peal could I ring.' 
But Gifford explains it differently. Lepers, we know, were furnished 
with a clap-dish, that is, a dish with a cover which they could rattle to 
warn people to get out of their way. See Massinger, tarl, of Love, il. 2: 
CA leper with a clap dish, to give notice 
He is infectious.' 
So Robert Henryson Testamenl of [raire Cresseide : 
C Thou shalt go begging fro house to house 
With cuppe and clapper like a Lazarous'; 
and ordinary beggars sometimes had clap-dishes, impudently assuming 
them from the lepers which they rattled for altos; see Heyward's 
Edward I1' Part II : c Enter M. Blague very poorly, a begging with 
her basket and clap-dish.' So that a clapperdudgeon literally signified, 
according to Gifford, one who claps or opens and shuts his covered dish 
at doors or in the streets for altos ; according to the other explanation 

one who rattled on his dish with a knife or dagger ; probably clapper- 
dudgeon did both, and each interpretation is right. See Gifford's note 
on Stable of lVews, ii. x, and cf. with Cunningham's note 1. c., where 
'dudgeon' is taken to represent the evooden dish 'clapped' by the 
1:'. 209, 918. Now we are atthetownes end. Here ve are to suppose 
that Jenkin and the shoemaker walk to the town's end--and there is 
a change of scene. I bave hOt marked it as a fresh scene, as the two 
characters would probably only step across the stage. 
1:'. 211, 987. forsake WakoEeld: sec the ballad printed in the Intro- 
1013. 19owne with your sh, ues: for this and for what follows, sec 
1:'. 219., 1025. King or ICaisar. A very common expression in the 
Elizabethan poets. It occurs in Piers Plowman and in other Middle 
English works, but first with frequency in The «Iirrorfor 3Iagistr«lcs 
and in Spenser. Sec Warton's Observations on Sels«r, vol. ii. p. 245, 
where he collects several examples from Spenser. 
P. 213, 1054. shrub. Dyce substitutes 'dmb': but 'shrub,' which 
has the advantage of an appropriate assonance, may be quite right; as 
an active verb'shrub' means rb'prune down.' Halliwell notices a 
provincial use of the word to reduce a person to poverty by winning 
his whole stock, which is no doubt simply a figurative application of 
the original use of the word : so it may quite well mean here, ' I will 
bring down your shoulders--reduce you to your proper proportions.' 
1063. baste you. Perhaps Greene wrote 'bash,' which would 
avoid the not very pointed repetition in ' basted' in the following line. 
1067. eut, and longtaile. It is impossible to determine exactly 
the origin of this phrase. Three explanations bave been given. 
Hawkins conjectures that it is an allusion rb a fashion which prevailed 
of wearing gowns distinguished by being of the court cut, with a long 
train or tail: this is almost certainly wrong. Steevens says that its 
origin was from the Forest Laws, by which the dog of a man who had 
no right to the privilege of chase was obliged to be cut, i.e. to have 
his tail cut, a dog so treated being called a ' cut ' or curtail, and so by 
contraction 'cur.' The editor of Dodsley's Old Phç,s (ed. 825) , ad 
loc., suggests that it originally referred to horses when their tails were 
either docked or left to grow their full length; a horse used for 
drudgery might well have his tail docked, while those which served 
for pomp or show might well bave been allowed to have their tails 
long. But the second explanation is probably the right brie, or at all 
events points to the origin of the phrase ; and this seems borne out by 
the passage quoted by Dyce from Ulpian Fulwell's Art of Flatterie, 
576, sig. G. 3, 'Yea, even their verte dogs, Rug, Rig, and Rislie, yea 
cut and longtaile, they shall be welcome.' So that it seems to mean 

376 NOTES 
dogs of all kinds, dogs with long and dogs with docked tails. It is of 
not infrequent occurrence; as in Shakespeare, AIerry IYives of 
Windsar, iii. 4- 47, ' Ay, that I wil], corne cut and longtaile, under the 
degree of a Squire.' Cf. A AI, dc/ at Alidnight, A. I, ' I send al] in, 
cut and longtaile' ; Te Relurnfram tarm*ssus, iv. I, 'As long as 
it lasts, corne cut and longtaile, ve'll spend it,' &c.; Beaumont and 
Fletcher, it af Several [eaîans , il. 3, ' She shall be honest what- 
soever she does by day or night.., with cut and long tail.' 'Cut' 
was a conunon form of reproach; see Gammer Guton's ]Vet«dle, 
' Thou slut, thou cut,' iii. /3; 'That lying cut is lost that she is not 
swinged at and beaten,' v. . See Shakespeare, 7"welftt Nighl, ii./3.o6. 
As in this sense it was applied to a bad horse--see instances collected 
by Steevens on  -tïrenry IV, il. . 6, 'I prithee, Tom, beat Cut's 
saddle'--this is a point in favour of the third conjecture as toits origin. 
In any case ' cut and long tail ' is a synonym for people of all sorts, 
good and bad. 
1069. faundyau .t Aphetic form of' confound.' See iV. '. D. 
1071. o'us/ a 5ol: a cant phrase exactly equivalent to our 
'crack a bottle.' It is very common in the Elizabethan dramatists. 
So in T/te 7"wo Anry [Vomen o Abinton, ' Fill the pot, hostess, 
and we'll crush it '; Greene's Defence of Conny-Catctdn (preface), ' If 
ever I brought my conny but to crush a pot of ale with me' ; ttoffman's 
Traoeedy, ' ,Ve'll crush a cup of mine own country's wine.' See too 
Nares and I-talliwell, and the commentators on Shakespeare,/ï'omeo 
andfitliel, i. 2.86, ' Corne and crush a cup of xvine.' 
1074. statd orale : a cask, barrel, or butt. In Hollyland's _Dict. 
(93), sub ' Tine,' he translates ' il a respandu la tine pleine de good 
ale' as ' he hath spilled the full stand of ale,' and Cotgrave defines 
' tine' as ' a stand, open tub or soe,' adding that it was most in use 
during vintage, so that it seems to bave been a sort of rat or open tub. 
In Lyly's lot/ter sombie, ii. 5.32 (ed. Bond), it is distinguished from 
a hogshead : ' And mine shall learne the oddes betweene a stand and 
a hogs-head.' Cf. too Dekker's IVonderfid Iéare (ed. Grosart, vol. i. 
P- 4), 'As for the tapster he fled into the ceIlar rapping out &c. 
&c.--that he would drown himself in a most villanous stand of ale.' 
So in T]e Youn Tamlaine (Child's Ballads, i. 122, quoted in the 
Centuly ]ictionary) : 
'First dip me in a stand of milk, 
_And then in a stand of water.' 
Cf. also zr«cedarus, iii. 6, ' l'Il to the ale stand and drink as long as 
I can stand.' 
1081. carause. This interesting and curious word is derived from 
the German Æaraus, 'right out,' and means to drink right out, to 
the bottom of the cup ; so the French carousser, to swill or quafl 
deeply, and the Old Spanish caraos, the act of drinking a full bumper. 

In a passage of Eeaumont and Fletcher's t?ffar s t?ush, il. 3, its 
etymology is illustrated :" 
'Why give's some wine then, this will fit us ai1. 
Here's to you still my captain's friend ! all ouf!' 
sec Skeat, s.v. The word has two forlns in Elizabethan English-- 
rouse and carouse, but the former meant also a large glass in which 
a health was given, the drinking of which by the rest of the company 
formed a carouse. There is a curious passage in Barnaby Rich's 
t]ue and Cry (ed. I617, p. 24), 'In former ages they had no conceit 
whereby to draw on drunkenness, their best was " I drink to you" and 
" I pledge you," till at length some shallow witted drunkard round out 
the carouse, an invention of that worth and worthlessness as it is a pity 
the first founder was hOt hanged.' Continuing, he describes it : ' The 
leader soupes up his breath, turnes the bottom of the cup upward, and 
in ostentation of his dexterity gives it a phylyp to make it cry 0'ne.' 
'Rouse' having the double sense of the full cup itself and of the 
process of emptying it, exactly answers to the modem 'bumper.' 
' Carouse,' either as verb or substantive, is, I believe, confined to the 
act itself, i.e. sxvilling. 
P. 9.14, 1108. bri/l ofblee: sec note on 1. 867. 
1120. and is of course for an. 
P. 1, 11:37. bulyou andyours, &c. : sec Introduction. 
1152. kneele z. Dyce perhaps needlessly reads  stand up.' 
1158. A.reddellom castle. Middleham Castle, of which the ruins 
are still to be seen, stands in the hundred of Hang \\'est in the North 
Riding of Yorkshire, and was the head of the Honour of Middleham. 
There are two pictures of the remains and a fuIl account of its history 
in Grose's Antifuilies of U.ngZand an,1 IVales, vol. iv. 
1 . 9,1t3, 1160..dnd hold of me. There is some corruption here. The 
Quartos read ' The hold of both.' Dyce makes no attempt to rectify 
it, but the correction seems to me obvious ; for ' both ' should be read 
' me,' that is ' hold of me,' hOt of King James, who had been captured 
before the Castle (sec line H58), or it may be, hOt of any intermediate 
landlord, but directly from the crown. Sec is(ra, 11. I 189-9 ° : 
'And what as Bradford holdes of me in chiefe, 
I giue it frankely vnto thee for euer.' 
For the privilege ct. Cade's words in  Henry UI, ix. 7. I3 °, Men 
shall hold of me in capite.' 
P. 9,17, 1214. A'in lames. Dyce is obviously right in giving this 
line to the King. 
1218. As]ce : Ask, or Aske, is a township in the parish of Easby, 
Wapentake of Gilling West, in the North Riding of Yorkshire. For 
many generations it was in the possession of the family of the Askes. 
bec Whitaker's t]islosy of Richmomlshir6 vol. i.  15-6. 


18. fia/l: A.S. #ell, purple cloth. ' Pall' was a cloth of which 
the robes of noblemen were ruade. In Alfric's Callo¢loE, quoted 
by Skeat, we find #e/1,«s and sid«rs2 as a gloss on #ururam et 
sericu. It is of frequent occurrence in the old ballads, cf. A' Z 
I'st/ere, Percy Series, I, book i, ' With ladyes lac'd in pall' ; while 
the phrase 'in purple and in pall' is of frequent occurrence. See 
Sir Catlis2e, 58; O/d Io3in of ?ortinall, p. 63, 'All clad in purple 
and in pall.' For further illustrations see Nares and Halliwell. 
6. adrad, or adread, means ' frightened, or terrified'; for etymology 
see 2V.E.ID., s.v. It was becoming obsolete in the early part of the 
seventeenth century. Cf. Tourneur's Tratsformed 3Ietamorbhosis, liv. 
377, 'The beast gan looke as one that were adrad", and for further 
illustration see Nares and Halliwell. 
8. greet : sorrow, from the verb ' greet' or ' greit,' A.S. groetaz, 
.ffrêtan : both the verb and the substantive are common in the ballads. 
67. dilated: Dyce explains 'dilated' as 'delayed.' This was 
a common use of the word (see 2V.F.D. s. v. Dilate v. ) ; but here the 
sense may be rather extended, spun out as we say. Cf. Hamlet, 
i. 2. 38: 
' More than the scope 
Of these delated articles allow.' 
He is referring to 'the law's delays.' 
71. The3oore mms crie: so Phillips in his Commemoratiot: 
'To suitors poore he ever was most kind 
He sought dispatch.' 
The whole of the eulogy by Justice may be compared with Hatton's 
admirable speech on the elevation of Dr. Robert Clarke to a sergeant- 
ship-at-law. See Nicholas, Lire of HatIot, p. z176, and Lord Campbell's 
Life of Hatton in his Lires ofthe Lord Chancellors, vol. ii. 289-9 o. 
89..çlose: Greene is fond of this word, but elsewhere uses it in 
its proper sense, an explanation or commentary; here it is used in 
a very strained sense ; cf. ifra, 1.2o6, ' He wel obseru'd the meaning 
of this glose.' 
111. rees: degrees, so rank. 
11,5. heale: the M.E. form of the word hele, A.S. hoelo, health or 
116. Secret conspirades. A reference to Hatton's services as 
one of the Commissioners on the trial of Anthony Babington and his 
coadjutors in September, 586, and perhaps to his prayer in Parlia- 
ment for the preservation of the Queen, when he urged on the Bill 

against Jesuits and seminary priests, which was passed in December, 
148. Hatton's stables were celebrated, and he was famous for 
his prowess in horsemanship. A trotter is a high-stepping horse, the 
Lov Latin [olu?arius. 
165. Loues [«ringfal[ies: a reference, no doubt, to the fact that 
Hatton vas never married--the price he had to pay for the Queen's 
continued favour. 
175. bri«kle is Dyce's certain correction of 'fickle'; it is very 
common in the Elizabethan vriters, and is in this form hardly 
obsolete now. 
186. geason: cf. Philomela's Second Ode, 'And faire Flora's 
wealth vas geason'; its meaning is ' scarce, rare, or uncommon,' and it 
is from the A.S. goesne. For illustrations in Elizabethan English see 
Nares and Hallivell, s.v., and add Spenser, trosop. 2, ' That il to 
leaches seemed strange and geason,' and Harrison's England, 'scant 
and geason.' It lingered in out lano-uage as late as the beginning 
of the eighteenth century. According to Grose and Ray il is an 
Essex vord. 
225. The hospitality of Hatton is especially noted by Barnaby 
Rich in his t:are-z,ell la lice lilil«ry Profession (reprint in Shaks. 
Soc., p. I2), And here I can hOt but speake of the bountie of that 
noble gentleman, Sir Christopher Hatton, my verie good maister and 
upholder, who having builded a house in Northamptonshire called 
by the naine of Holdenby, . . . and although this house is hOt yet 
fully finished yet il differeth farre from the workes that are used 
now a daies in rnany places. I meane where houses are builte with 
a greate number of chimnies, and yet the smoke cornes forth but 
at one only tunnel. This bouse is not built on that manner for as 
it bath sundrie chimnies so they caste forth severall smokes: and 
such worthy porte and daiely hospitalitie kept that although the 
owner hymself useth not to corne there once in two yeares yet I 
date undertake there is daiely provision to be round convenient to 
entertaine any noble man with his whole train. And how many 
gentlemen and straungers that comes but to sec the bouse are there 
daily welcomed, feasted, and well lodged.' Cf. too De Champanaye's 
testimony quoted by Campbell, Lires of [he Lord Chawellors, vol. ii. 
242. lher: original misspells 'her,' plainly a misprint of 'ther.' 
Cf. ilzfra, 1. 244, ' And with ther teares and sighes.' 
265. Li5-holines in Cleare moc: Dyce queries ' Lip-holy 
clergymen,' and as this is the only Alexandrine in the poem his 
suggestion may be right, but I retain the original text. 
27. A reference, no doubt, to Hatton's hostility to the Brownists. 
The only judgement of Hatton's which has been preserved happens 

380 NOTES 
to be in the case of Sir Richard Knightley, who was fined 2,ooo 
for allowing the printing of Brownist books. See Howell's Slate 
Trials, i. 127o. 
284. Ner was fie in religion, &c. Exactly what Camden says 
of him, 'religionis causâ non urendum, non secandum censuit,' 
Annales, sub I59I ; and ho was noted for his moderation both with 
respect to the Puritans, that is the Presbyterians, and the Roman 
286. Thon base rebort. It was commonly said of Hatton that he 
v,-as in favour of Roman Catholicism, and a report was current that 
ho had secretly professed that religion; to this the passage in the 
text refers. See Nicholas, Lire of ttalton, p. 499- See too the 
passage in the preface : ' As virtutis cornes est invidia, so base report, 
who hath ber tongue blistered by slanderous envy, began as far as she 
durst now after his death to murmur.' It was for this reason that 
Greene emphasizes Hatton's hostility to Romish superstitions, and 
so also does Phillips in his Commemoralion. 
330. Ail this part of the poem is an excellent illustration of what 
the Greeks called q, vXpdf , but it may be doubted whether nonsense 
over went further than it does bore. 
3-tl. moEhlfoile. This is a very unusual use of the word; itis 
generally active; here it means 'take the foil,' sustain defeat. The 
word in its usual sense is a very common one in Greene, but I know 
no parallel to this. 
347. hent: generally the preterite of the active verb, as in 
Spenser, l?aîhn«id«, 1. 35S, 'The whiles soif death away ber spirit 
hent,' or active participle as in Spenser,/7. Q. ii. 6. 49, ' What hellish 
furie hath at earst thee hent,' and in Shakespeare, A[easure for 
3Ieasure, iv. 6. x4 ;hete in a very rare use the passive participle. 
356. Cf. Spenser, F. Q. i. 9- 43, 'The longer lire, I wote the 
greater sin' ; and Greends Vision (Works, xii. ec6), 'The life of man 
is as the panther, the longer he live the more spots he hath in his 
370. siz: Dyce ingeniously conjectures 'hymn,' and analogies 
are certainly not wanting in out poets to what is so common in Italian 
and French poetry. 
877. CL Chaucer, who however is not so ridiculous, tarlement 
of t;oules, 11. 693- 5 (ed. Skeat) : 
'And with the showting, whan hir song was do, 
That foules maden at hir flight a-way, 
I wook.' 
Cf. the conclusion of T/ze Courl of Love, and of Dunbar's 2hrissil 
a:d Rds. 



I HAVE arranged the poems as nearly as possible in chronological 
order, that is, according to the dates of the novels in which they all, 
vith the exception of Tke Iaiden's 1)ream, appeared. \Vhere 
a novel was licensed, and there is reason to believe that there vas 
an earlier edition than any edition extant, I bave assigned the poem 
to that year. The Second tarL of AIamilli«, for instance, only exists 
in the edition of x593, but it was entered on the Stationers' Registers 
in I583, and was probably printed in that year. I bave therefore 
placed this poem first as belonging to I583 . All the poems bave 
been transcribed from the original editions of the novels, and 
where more than one edition exists, they have been collated, and 
the variants noted. Where any of them bave appeared in con- 
temporary, or nearly contemporary, miscellanies, these texts also 
have been collated. 
From the Second Part of A[amillia, licensed and probably printed 
in I583, but only existing in the edition dated x593- These verses 
are supposed in the novel to have 'been compiled by an injurious 
Gentlewoman in Saragossa, who with despightful taunts hath abused 
the Gentlewomen of Sicillia, most peevishly describing their apparel 
and presumptuously decyphering their nature.' Greene's hexameters 
are as detestable as Gabriel Harvey's and Stanihurst's. 
6. vale: no doubt rightly explained by Dyce as a mark of 
recognition, from vale, bonnet, that is, lower. See note on Georffe a" 
Greene, 1. 47. 
14. frounst: curled, or twisted, from the French froncer. C. 
Qui@e for an Ubslart Courtier, ' Hair cut after the Italian manner, 
short and round, and then frounst with the curling yrons.' So 
Spenser, F. Q. i. 4. I4, 'Some frounce their curled hair in courtly 
guise.' In Chaucer ' frounce' is used for a vrinkle, and ' frounced' 
for wrinkled. 
17. side: A.S. sd, long, wide, particularly applied to dress. See 
Nares and Halliwell, so terimedes (\Vorks, vii. 9), ' a side govne' ; 
AIamillia (Works, il. I9) , 'a side stoppe.' "What is meant by 'wide 
with a witness,' I do not know ; there is apparenfly some corruption. 
The song of the old man in Arbaslo as he contemplates the picture 
of Fortune. My text is, with such exceptions as are marked, from 

38z NOTES 
the Quarto of 1584, collated with that of I617 in the Malone collection. 
The Quarto of 1626, from which Dyce prints, is the same as that 
of I617. 
4. su2@lie: the I617 and 16.6 Quartos correct the 'supplie' 
of 1584 . 
This is the song sung by Doralice. The variants in the three 
Quartos are hOt material. 
From ll[orando, The Tretameron of Love. There is only one 
Quarto, that of 1587. This should be compared with the ' Description 
of the Lady Maesia,' which is a repetition, with some variations and 
omissions, of the present poem. 
18. Dyce seems doubtful whether an Alexandrine was intended 
or whether there is some corruption. 
22. Before this line in the original is inserted 'To be brief, 
madam,' and this line is metrically incorrect. I follow Dyce in 
inserting the words 'In fine' from LXXI. 17. 
From the saine. 
12. eligree : for the various spellings of this word, see iV. E. 
From the same. 
From teneloe's 14Zeb. There are two Quartos of this, that of 
1587, a copy of which is in the Bodleian Library, and that of 16Ol, 
a copy of which is in the 13ritish Museum. This 'sonnet' is introduced 
in the Novel with the words: 'A wise woman when she sees her 
husband in a choller (should) appease him with patience and when 
he is quiet then seeke to persuade him with reasons. Whereof 
Ariosto in a sonnet hath this censure Englished thus.' There is 
certainly no such sonnet to be found in Ariosto's extant works, nor 
can I find any passage in his poems which "could be the original of 
this supposed translation. 

From the saine. 

From the saine. The title 
mutantu; et nos mutamur D 
unknown ; the metrical licence 


of this poeln is the line Tembora 
illis. The authorship of this line is 
suggests that it is more probably of 

mediaeval than of Renaissance origin. The earliest place in which 
it has hitherto been found is Harrison's Description oft?ritain, 1577, 
Part III. ch. iii. p. 99, where it is quoted as 'the saying of the Poet.' 

In 1613 John Owen (' Audoenus') uses it in a distich, which is evidently 
intended to be understood as a humorous 'gloss' on a well-known 
adage ; his version has the transposition nos el for el nos. An altered 
form of the line (' Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis') occurs in 
a distich of Matthias Borbonius, published in 1612, in Deliliae Poelarum 
Germanorum, i. 685 ; the distich is one of two which 15urport to be 
versified renderings of a saying of the Emperor Lothair I. Possibly 
the words paraphrased by Borbonius may be round in Lothair's corre- 
spondence with Rabanus Maurus, or in some chronicle ; but the dis- 
covery of them would throw no light on the origin of the proverbial 
line, of which Borbonius's line is merely an accominodation. 
4. This is an invention of Greene's; there is no such incident 
recorded of Semiramis. 
22. These three: something, as Walker suggested, seems to be 
wrong here; perhaps a stanza explaining the ' three' has dropt out. 
From ,41cida. This novel was licensed to John Wolfe in 1588 , 
and was probably printed in that or the following year. It is referred 
to in Greene's truneralls in 1594, but the earliest known edition is 
that of 1617. bly text is that ofthe copy in the British Musemn. 
4. aym'd lo faire: Grosart reads - to farre,' which is perhaps 
a variation in the Huth copy. 
13. GigKlels : see note on Orlando trurioso, 1. 167. 
14. Creele: a not uncommon form of the word, both as adjective 
and substantive, in older English. 
From the saine. 
6. Dyce suggests an emendation of the metre by reading 'and 
his vain glorious.' 

From the saine. 
From the saine. 
From the same. 



From the same. 
7. This is from the well-known ode in the tseudo-.4naoeon, 
toelae melici xxxi. It occurs again with some variations in 
Orl3harion. Cf. infra, XLVI. 
The next six pieces, from XVI to XXI inclusive, are ffom terimedes: 
there is only one Quarto, that of 1588. 

384 NOTES 

22. sw«d: whatever may be the etymology and history of this word, 
its meaning in the Elizabethan writers is certainly a lout or lumpkin, 
and itis used as a terre of reproach. For illustrations see Nares and 
Halliwell, but add 2r]zree Ladies of London, Act i, 'Thou whoreson 
rascal swad be still' ; and Greene, JVever fou Laie (Works, viii. I8O), 
'[ see swaynes are hOt such swads but they bave thoughts and 
passions,' and it is of frequent occurrence in the novels. Nares says 
it is a northern word for pea-shell or pod, and this is correct. Cf. 
Cotgrave, sub Gousscbiller, 'to take pulse out of the swads.' It prob- 
ably passed thence into a terre of contempt as indicating rusticity or 
solnething contelnptible. So Ben Jonson, ir«le af a Tub, ii. I, 'A 
blunt squat swad'; and Gabriel Harvey, Pierces Su2ber. (Works, ii. 
OE87), 'A verie Chilnera to this swad of swaddes.' 
This expresses Melissa's gloom and depression at having to marry 
a suitor whom she does hot love, or be guilty of disobedience to her 
The points of this poem will hot be clear without the prose context. 
' One of the Caldees having an insight into the lascivious lyfe of 
(the young prince Psamnetichus) persuaded him to desist from such 
fading pleasures, whose momentary delights did breede lasting 
reproche and infamie: the young Prince making light account of 
his words went into his studye and vrit him an answer sonnet-wise 
to this effect.' 
21. cures : ' cures ' would make better sense. 

The reply of the old man. 
Dune by a loyer whose mistress was hard-hearted.' 
15. shDtes: see note on LVII. 19. 

From Pandosto, or The Triumîbh of Time. The first Quarto, 
I588, was frequently reprinted. I bave collated the 64 Quarto in 
the ]3ritish Museum. For the point of this epitaph see the romance. 
It reminds us of the inscription on Hero's monument, ' Done to death 
by slanderous tongues,' ilIuclz Ado about IVoth£ng, v. 3.3. 
This beautiful lyric does not appear in any of the early editions 
of Pazclosto. When it first appeared I cannot say, for I bave hot been 
able to collate several of the reprints. Dyce reprints it from the 
edition of 694. 

12. The expression 'eornpass'd... with.., eanker'd flower' is 
certainly not very intelligible; and flower can scarcely be repeated. 
Dyce adopts Rev. J. Mifford's conjecture 'bower,' supported by infra, 
LXVI. 19 ' Solemne and sad within a withered bower.' 

The verses which follow from the present to XXXVII inclusive 
are ri'oto ,Z«nafi]zon. My text is the Quarto of I589, collated with 
the reprint of I6Io. It was first printed in Quarto in I587, but that 
edition I have not been able to procure, if indeed it be in existence. 
6. fawc]tens: the word is directly frorn the French fuchon, and 
the Elizabethan spelling generally follows it, instead of the Italian 
formfalcione. It is sometimes spelt ' fauchin.' 

With this charming lyric cf. the lullaby in Patient Grissil. 
Cf. the old proverb so often quoted by the Elizabethan writers, 
Aquila non cafiit muscas. 
6. Forfiheare see note on Looking Glasse, 1. 149o. 
10. waile ... bemonings: Dyce suggests 'waile,' apparently 
not being aware that that is the reading in the I6Io Quarto ; he also 
unnecessarily proposes ' moanings' for the reading of the Quartos. 
18. Dyce appositely compares z[erchant of Uenice, i. I. 17o : 
'Her sunny locks 
Hang on her ternples like a golden fleece; 
Which rnakes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strond, 
And rnany Jasons corne in quest of her.' 
25. Burns could hardly have been a reader of Greene, but a writer 
in Arotes and Queries, vol. xi, First Series, p. 66, aptly compares : 
'Her cheeks like lilies steeped in wine, 
The lass that rnade the bed to me.' 
Greene's gorgeous and elaborate picture rnay be compared with 
the Son, ç of Solomon, from whom he seems to have borrowed some 
touches, with Ovid's description of Corinna, Amores v. 17 seqq., but 
more particularly with Ariosto's description of Alcina (Orl. t:ur. vii. 
st. II seqq.), of Olyrnpia (id. canto xi. st. 65 seqq.), with Tasso's 
description of Arrnida (GerusaL Lib., canto iv. st. 27-32), with 
COLLII¢,S. 11 C C 

386 NOTES 
Spenser's of Belphoebe, F. Q. ii. 3- e4 seqq. ; and of his bride, 
E2bilk«lamiot, 11. I48 seqq. ; of Venus in t?rilain's çda, canto iii. 2. 
39. where Senesse woons. I can make nothing of this. ' Senesse' 
may possibly be a corruption of Cycnus: for the transformation of 
Cycnus, the friend of Phaeton, into a swan, see Ovid, Met. il. 366 seqq., 
and Virgil, .x/en. x. I88-93. Three other youths ofthis name were also 
fabled to have been changed into swans. See Ovid, lret, vii. 37I seqq., 
id. xii. I44. Ariosto describes Ferrara as the bella terra,' where 
' Cigno si vesti di blanche 'plume,' OrL Fur. iii. st. 34- In England's 
['arnassus the words are omitted. 
6.'2. truceman: generally spelt 'truchman,' from the French 
lruc]opmn, but sometimes 'trounchman.' It is of frequent occurrence 
in the Elizabethan writers, but became obsolete in the seventeenth 
century. To the illustrations in Nares and Halliwell add Whetstone, 
H@/ameron, 'For he that is the Truchman of a strangers tongue 
may well declare his meaning'; Peele, Polyvmnia, 47, ' And having 
by his trouuchman pardon crav'd'; Queen o_fArraKon , ii. I, 'And now 
I have with labour attain'd the language I'll thy truchman be.' 
65. com2bhrDte : I alter with Dyce, though « am plaine » may 
possibly be defended. 
22. gainl: see note on Frier t?acon, 1. 67. 
9. slowre : ' stour,' « stower,' or  stowre ' means properly 
a battle or contest, so tumult and disorder; then it came to mean 
trouble or distress, and in all these meanings it is common in the 
Elizabethan writers. Dyce, however, noticing the difficulty, takes it 
to mean here ' time or moment,' and supports this by a quotation from 
Lodge's Forbon'us aszd Prisceria : 
Whose dire disdaine (the god that kindles love, 
And makes impressions strangely from above 
Misliking) strake with fancie at that stowre' ; 
but the word here is anabiguous, and he mlght bave quoted other 
passages, partlcularly in Spenser, where it is equally ambiguous; 
cf. itfra, XLIII. 89, 'So did Phillis at that stowre; and LXX. 4I. 
It is possible that it might mean a «crisis,' and so pass to mean, 
a particular moment. Greene is often very loose in his phraseology, 
and perhaps hardly troubled about precision in meaning here. 
b3. The Fons Acidalius was, according to Servius, CommenL 
on ,Zteneid, i. 7_o, a fountain near Orchomenus in Boeotia, where the 
Graces used to bathe,  in quo se Gratiae lavant,' the right explanation, 
he says, of the epithet ' Acidalia' applied to Venus, as the Graces were 
consecrated to her. This fountain seems, however, to have been quite 
unknoxvn to geographers. Allusions toit are very frequent in the 
Elizabethan poets, who were doubtless attracted by its musical naine. 


1. cobs: I alter with Dyce, as doubtful as he whether what is 
rneant are ' cob-apples,' 'cob-nuts,' or the loaves called 'cobs.' 
With this compare Shakespeare's I29th Sonnet. 
14..straeus was the father of the primaeval stars. Dyce 
compares Aratus, 29henom. 98-9: 
'Ao-rpao« . . . v t' T ç««Lv 
and cf. Marlowe and Nash, Dido, i. ! : 
'Ay, me! the stars suppris'd like Rhesus' steeds 
Are drawn by darkness forth Astraeus' tents.' 
Mitford (see Dyce's note) notices the parallel between this passage 
and a passage in the Thadan Vonder, printed in Webster's Works, 
first edition, Dyce, iv. p. 211. 

From Tullie' s Love. 
of 1589, 1597, and 16o5. 

The three Quartos collated have been those 


Neither in scansion nor in purity of Latinity do these Sapphics 
reflect much honour on Greene's scholarship. 

8. As Dyce remarks, Greene seerns to bave forgotten that Venus 
had the name of Erycina from rnount Eryx: an obvious correction 
would be ' Erycina's mount,' but Dyce doubts whether Greene would 
bave so written. Greene seerns to have been under the impression 
that there was sorne place called Erycine ; see infra, LXVI I. 8. 
10. «[ust it be [ars£ Dyce well queries 'must I be Mars ?' 
but there is no reason to alter. 
4. There is no point in l?aibhnis , and rnuch point in 13a23hne , 
which I therefore adopt flore Dyce. 

These elegiacs--if we except Venustala . . . verbis, the fifth line, 
tubea in line 7, lilius in 8, and the questionable Latinity in Io--are 
respectable, and much above the level of the average Latin verse of the 
Elizabethan writers. The English version hardly corresponds, even 
as a paraphrase, to the Latin. 

388 NOTES 

I2. mus[ces: Dyce reads 'music,' but perhaps the plural was 
The three following poems are from Orharion. The only edition 
extant, or at all events known tobe extant, is dated I599, but it was 
probably written and perhaps published in the spring of 159o, as in the 
Address prefixed to Per[medes, published in I588, Greene mentions that 
it was his intention to give it to the world ' next term.' ' I vowe to 
make amends in my Orpharion, which I promise to make you merry 
with next tearme.' We learn from the Address to it that there had 
been a delay of a year in bringing it out, and that at last it had 
' crept forth in the spring.' In Greene's Funeral[s, by R. 13. (I594), 
it is mentioned among his other published writings. 
I2. It is certainly surprising to find Theseus helping Orpheus, 
and to find Eurydice in love with Pluto. 

Compare with this XV, and see note there. 

The following poems to LII inclusive are from Greene's :[ourning 
Garment. It appeared originally in 159% but that edition I have 
hOt been able to procure, nor do I know whether any copy of it is 
extant. It was reprinted in I616, and that is the text I print. 
18. ev«lts: see note on FrierJgacon, 1. 1993. 
21. side: see note on I. 17. 
29. evhiffge is from the A.S. hevtrg, and is a rhin liquor ruade 
from whey. See Nares and Halliwell for a full account of the word. 
30. liKKe : from the A.S. licgan, through the M.E. ligKen , to lie ; 
it is hOt uncommon in the Elizabethan writers, but was becoming 
obsolete, and is only, I think, found in those who affect archaism. 
Spenser uses the plural, She3herd's Calendar, May, I. 217, 'Many 
wilde beastes liggen in waite.' Cf. F. Q. vi. 4. 40, ' His limbes would 
rest, ne lig in ease etnbost.' 
42. Alderleefest: see note on James IV, 1. 24o 3. 
57. Atay : maid, A.S. mœeg. This is an archaic form of Chaucer, 
Troilus, v. I72O, 'But trewely, Criseyde, swete may'; Spenser, 
/:'. Q. ii. I. I1, 'How shamefully that may he did torment.' Iqares 
and Halliwell quote lercy Relies, vol. i. 4. 43, ' But deerlye he Ioved 
this may.' 
Compare this charming poem with the lines beginning,  Ah ! what 
a lire were this! how weet ! how lovely !' in 3 Henry Vf, ii. 5.41, 

and with the soliloquy in I4enry V, iv. x. 25o seqq. Cf. also Peele's 
'What thing is love, for wel I wot love is a thing? 
It is a prick, it is a sting, 
It is a prettie, prettie thing.' 
4'2.. syt]t : A.S. s, time. It was almost obsolete at the end of the 
sixteenth century ; it is often used in Spenser (cf. F. Q. iii. Io. 33, 
'And humbly thanked him a thousand sith'), who uses it also in 
the plural form (She2. Cal., Jan., 49, 'A thousand sithes I curse that 
careful hour '). 
45. IVhere: Dyce's correction seems certain, as it is not likely 
that the ' where' of the preceding stanzas would be changed here. 

5. record is commonly used for singing or tuning. In Coles's 
Diclionary we have, 'To record as birds, cerl«lim modulari, allernis 
canere.' Cf. Oht lVives Tale, ad init., ' The lark is merry, and records 
ber notes'; tend@ê's Il'eh (Works, v. 179), 'She fell to work and 
hearing the prettie birds recording their sweete and pleasant note, 
she ,varbled,' &c. : from the Latin recordare through the Old French 
39. The Rev. J. Mitford endeavours to defend Greene for this 
apparent blunder in mythology by suggesting that 'Cytherea,' as an 
epithet of Venus. is used as a generic terre for a lady-love ; i.e. Cynthia 
was the Cytlterea of Endymion. See Dyce's note. 

8. eyes greee is both dissonant and obscure, but is probably right ; 
'gree' means here, as often, pleasure, or favour; she was delighted 
with what grieved ber. 
72. Dyce thinks 'eyes' is an error caused by the occurrence 
of the xvord in the next fine, but he suggests no remedy; it is probab]y 
only due to haste and carelessness. Cf. LXXXI. 13,"Who chain blind 
youths in tramels of their hayre.' 
79. Obscurity again, due to haste. Dyce's queried suggestion 
'dews' is very plausible, and may be right. Cf. LII. o, 'And teares, 
like dewe, be-drencht vpon his face.' 
7. litte: cease, leave off, from A.S. lintan; it is common in 
Elizabethan English, but became obsolete in the seventeenth century. 
See for ample illustrations Nares and Halliwell, and add Spenser, 
F. Q. iii. 3- 3 °, ' And if he then with victorie can lin,' and Relurnfrom 
tarnassus, ' \Vhose name is tilne who never lins to run.' 
2. The Alexandrine is unusual, but need not be suspected. 

390 NOTES 

This and the following poems to LXXI inclusive, are from Never 
taa Laie. It vas originally published in 159o , and was reprinted in 
16oo, 16o7, 1616, 1631, and in a copy with no date. I have collated 
Q. 159 ° and Q. 16o7, which are in the British Museum, and 16oo, 
which is in the Bodleian. The variations are not at all important. 
17. heblafnes. Though Love is often feminine as Venus, it must 
be masculine here as Cupid ; see ftfra, 1. 8. 
82. decybhred: this is a favourite word of Greene's; he uses it 
in the sense of to set forth or describe, and to display or indicate. 
87. abbraue : in the common sense of ' prove.' 
83. barrow: give warrant, guarantee, assure. It properly means 
to receive money on trust, fo borrov in the ordinary sense. A.S. 
barçiaJz and M.E. barven; it then passed into the sense in which 
it is used here : cf. the vulgarism, ' l'Il go bail for that.' IV.E.D. (s.v.) 
quotes Yhe Squire of Low Deffree, 1. 451 : 
'I shall borowe for seven yere 
He shall hot wedde mi" doughter dere.' 

19. shine is here active, cf.. sl;bra, XX. 15,' Her eyes shines fauour, 
courtesie, and grace.' So in Milton, Paradise Lost. 
80. darbt: see note on Orlando fi'ztrfoso, 1. 969 . 
87. slraftes: I know of no exact parallel to this use of the 
word ; it evidently means pompous struts, laborious efforts to proceed 
with dignity. Drayton, 19olyolbion, vi. I82-3, describing the Wye, says, 
in a curiously illustrative passage (quoted by Nares and Halliwell) : 
'The often wandering ,Vye, her passages to view, 
As varitonly she strains in her lascivious course.' 
The word is frequently applied to a river pursuing an impeded course. 
88. With ' heuens brasse-paued way' cf. Homer's Xd,«or 
opa,dç, lliad, xvii. 425. 
48. The constellation usually called Bootes. Cf. Aratus, 19haen. 
9  ; Cicero,/ge Nat. 1?eor. ii. 4. IO9; and Hyginus, lPoet .4stron. il. 4- 
Its brightness is referred to by Greene more than once. See the 
romance from which this poem is taken (Works, viii. 36): 'As the 
star Artophilex is brightest yet setteth soonest.' 

This is Infida's song. I have sought in vain to find the original of 
these French verses. Dr. Paget Toynbee is of opinion that they were 

in all probability Greene's own composition, doubting whether any 
Frenchman vould have written 'bel' before a consonant. 
This poem is printed, as Dyce notes, in Hind's Eliosto Libidinoso, 
I6o6, p. 9I, where it is described as 'borrowed of a worthy writer.' 
Hind's text varies from that of the Quartos: he anticipates Dyce 
in correcting ' blossomes' in 1. 7 to ' blossome' ; his text is evidently 
that of the I6oo Quarto. 
16. Dyce alters ' Oh' into ' Or' ; he may be right, but I prefer to 
retain the reading of the Quartos. 
20. lauolta: a very favourite word with the Elizabethan poets, 
written in four forms--lavolta, lavolt, lavalto, levalto. 'It vas 
a kind of dance for two persons, consisting a good deal in high 
and active bounds,' Nares and Halliwell; it is described in Sir John 
Davies, Orcheslra, st. 70: 
'Yet is there one the most delightful kind, 
A loftie jumping or a leaping round, 
Where arm in arm two dancers are entwin'd 
And while themselves with strict embracements bound, 
And still their feet an anapest do sound: 
An anapest is all their music's song.' 
Of its origin Scott (quoted by Nares and Halliwell) in his Discoverie 
of IVitchcraft, E. 5- b, says, 'Those night walking or rather night 
dansing witches brought out of Italy into France that dance which 
is called la volta.' The epithet usually applied toit was 'light.' 
So Massinger, City Aladaz, iii. I, 'We corne not to fright you but 
to make you mery, a light levolta.' Due of Florezce, iv. II, ' Dance 
a light lavolta with her.' It is employed with exquisite poetic felicity 
to the sunbeam dancing on the waves. See 2Ffena2bhon (Works, v. 36), 
' Noting how Phoebus fetched his Levaltos on the purple plaines of 
Neptunus, as if he had meant to have courted Thetis in the royalty 
of his robes.' So again of the Dolphin's playing, Frier acon, 
11. 980-2 : 
'Like l']zetis shalt thou wanton on the waues, 
And draw the Dolphins to thy louely eyes, 
To daunce lauoltas in the purple streames.' 
It is also used of love sparkling in the eyes. See the beautiful line 
in The 2?eturn froz 29arnassus, v. I : 
Dances levaltos in her speaking eye.' 
27. See XXXIII. 25 . 
5. yblent: blend, A.S. blondan and M.E. blezdet, is to mix 
together, so to spoil with mixing, to corrupt. So Spenser, F. . il. 5.5, 

39 2 NOTES 
' So has thou oft with guile thine honour blent,' and 2uines of 7ïme, 
I. I33 o, ' And thy throne royal with dishonour blent.' Cf. the Zoo/dn" 
Glasse, l. 52I, 'My Hesperus by cloudie death is blent.' Then it 
came to have the sense 'confounded,' like the Lat. confusus, as here 
and in ]ames IV, 1. I76I, 'Then all the helpe of çcotlaT«d should 
be blent.' 
18. stales: decoys; A.S. stalu, theft, M.E. stale, the usual word 
for decoy in the Elizabethan writers. Cri M'amillia (Works, ii. 17), 
'He had been too sore canvased in the nettes to strike at every 
stale.' Cf. Looking Glasse, l. x966, ' Hence, tooles of wrath, stales of 
temptation ! ' So courtesans are habitually called  stales.' 
23. blin : to ' blinne' is to cease, A.S. blinnan ; cf. infra, LXX. 63, 
When in the Ballance Daphnes Lemman blins,' and Glaerien 
(Percy's Rdi¢ues, sect. iii. bk. i. vii) : 
'Strike on Glasgerion 
Of thy striking doe not blinne'; 
and Deatlt of Robert Earl af ltuntDtffton, v. 2 : 
' She never would blin telling how his grace 
Sav'd her young son.' 
It is used actively by Spenser, F. Q. iii. 5 : 
'For nathemore for that spectacle bad 
Did th' other two their cruel vengeance blin.' 

9. sackles is guiltless, innocent, A.S. sadêas, from sacu lawsuit, 
accusation, and lêas. In Scotch it bas the sense of useless, silly, feeble. 
See Jamieson, s.v. It often occurs in Greene's novels. So t)andosto 
(Works, iv. 263), 'I will offer my guiltless blood a sacrifice to those 
sackles soules '; Mirrour ofadesty (Works, iii. 37), 'Thou hast... 
borne false witnesse against the sacklesse soul.' 
22. secret-searchinlime. This admirable emendation of Walker's, 
adopted by Dyce, restores the metre, and is supported by LVIII. 6, 
'From setting foorth heauens secret searching eie.' 

6. Dyce suggests ' That' for ' The,' and would, I suppose, remove 
the colon in 1. 5- I prefer to retain the text of the Quartos. 

. sieKe, as usual in Elizabethan English, means 'seat,' the 
strict French meaning: to modern ears the word is a lucky substitute 
in this place. 
5. 2bresl: see note on ./tl2bhonsus , I. 1227. 


73. mipze eare «,on mine arme: Dyce proposes to substitute 
for the reading of the Quarto of I59othat of the Qarto of I6o% being 
under the impression that it was a correction of his own. He has 
before suggested as his own the corrections of the I6oo Quarto, which 
he had apparently hOt consulte& 
91. Wim]z: Dyce's substitution of the singular for the plural 
is clearly right. 
106. Dyce omits the Latin line, unjustifiably. 

21. Mars must have been a heavy load. Greene has too many 
of these sillinesses. The whole of this poem is a revelry of nonsense. 

8. tecine: see note on XL. 3. 

62. loues braids. This is not easy to explain. Dyce suggests that 
it means craffs, deceits, and quotes All's IVell that tnas IV«ll, iv. . 
73, 'Since Frenchlnen are so braid.' The IV.ï.Z)., which connects 
it ith the Old Norse regas$ to change unexpectedly, to deceive, 
gives some instances of the word being apparently used in this sense, 
as in Robert of Brunne, Chron., ' Full stille away he went, lat was 
a theue's braid.' Its more obvious meaning, about which there can 
be no ambiguity, is in the sense of assaults and attacks, as in 
Golding's Translation of Ovid's A[et. xiii, ' To have Ulysses ever 
a companion of the braid.' The original meaning of the word 
indicated a sudden movement, A.S. bregda«, and from this have been 
deduced the various meanings attached to it. For its history and 
etymology see 
6. staazd horse : a sta]lion. Cf. Cotgrave, s. v. ezl]er, 'Cheval 
entier, a stone-horse.' The French verses may again be expected to 
be Greene's own composition ; such an hiatus as 'je serti un jeune roi' 
would scarcely have been possible in a French poet. 

o. The bull vhich bore away Europa is said to have been in 
Chaucer's phrase ' stellified' as a reward. This rests, according to 
Eratosthenes, on the authority of Euripides, Eratosthenes, Kavarrprtzo[ , 
See too Hyginus, tgoet. _/islron. ii. 2I. 
30. vade: pass away, from Lat. ,ad«re; hot the saine word 

394 NOTES 
as 'fade,' as Skeat says, nor to be confounded with it as it often is, 
for it is often used with 'fade,' as in Spenser, tVuizes of 7"ime xx. I3: 
' Her power, dispersed through ail the world doth vade, 
To show that all in th' end to nought shall fade.' 
Brathwaites, Straadofor lhe 19evil, I615, p. 53, 'Thy form divine. 
no fading, vading flower.' In many cases where it occurs it is eithet 
misprinted or confounded with faded,' as in YTe tgassionate t)ilgrim, 
11. 131, I32» cited by Skeat ; but often its proper force, 'vanishing, going 
away, or vanished and gone,' will be lost if it is confused with ' faded.' 
So in Greene, Carde of Fawie (Works, iv. 92), ' Not his vading 
riches but his renowned virtues' ; and Peele, Arraig¢menl of Paris, 
i. 5, 'Reproves disdain and tells how form doth vade.' 
41. slore : sec note on XXXIV. 39. 
6. bl#¢s : sec note on LXI. e3- 
88. baie: from the French baioener. 
The following pieces from the prescrit to LXXIV inclusive are 
from the PareoEvell to Follie, which was first printed in 159o and 
reprinted in 1617. The two Quartos have been collated ; the variants 
are many, but chiefly in differences of spelling. This first poem is an 
alteration and abridgement of subra, IV. 
The sentiments in this beautiful poem are platitudes with the 
Elizabethan poets, but it may be compared with Lodge's 'Old 
Damon's Pastoral' in tïngland's eh'con, and the still more charming 
lyric 'Art thou poor,' &c., in talietl Grissell. 
These verses are introduced thus: 'I allow those pleasing poems 
of Guazzo, which begin Chi s#itto d' amore.' The attribution of the 
original of these verses to Guazzo--whether Marco Guazzo or Stefano 
Guazzo be meant--appears tobe a fiction. The most careful search 
through all the extant works of both of these writers has failed to final 
anything in the least resembling them. I bave also consulted the 
anthologies of Italian poetry popular in Greene's time for their 
identification, but without success. 
These verses are thus introduced in the novel : 'And by the waye 
I remember certaine verses written by our countriman Dartre to this 
effect : 
Il viïio che conduce.' 
This again is fiction. There is no passage in Dante, either in the 
Divie Comedy or in his minor poems, genuine or apocryphal, 

which could possibly form the original of this supposed translation. 
Mr. A. J. Butler has kindly confirmed my suspicion that the attribution 
of the verses to Dante is fictitious. 

The next rive poems, to LXXIX inclusive, are from Philomela. 
It was first printed in I592 , and reprinted in 1615 and 1631. I have 
hot had access to the edition of I592, but have collated the second and 
third Quartos. 
2. eason: see note on _/t [aidens Dreame, I. 186. 
44. For the manifest corruption 'fall' in the text Dyce reads 
' face ' ; I venture to propose ' fere.' 

This sonnet forms the postscript to the letter written by Lutesio to 
try the honour of Philomela, the wife of Philippo. 
2. eauen's: I adopt Dyce's correction. The corruption is 
a strange one, and hardly likely to have happened with a simple 
word like 'heavens.' Could Greene have written 'emera's bright 
lamp,' personifying day from the Greek ? 
This is Philomela's postscript to her letter in reply. 
10. The emera|d, as the Euphuists are constantly harping on, is 
the emblem of constancy, and consistency ; cf. Euflhues and his 
lama, ed. Bond, vol. ii. p. 177, ' Loue is likened to the tmerald which 
cracketh rather then consenteth to any disloyaltie,' and cf. tubltues 
--lhe Anatomy of IVit, id. vol. i. 206 and 2I 9. 
Supposed tobe written by Philomela. 
This and the following three pieces are from The Groatesevortk oj 
lVit, which vas first published in 1592, and vas reprinted in 1596, 
16oo, 1616-17, 162o, 1621, 1629, 1637, and in an undated edition. 
I have collated that of 1592 (through Dr. Grosart's transcript), that 
of 1617, and that of 1621. 
This fable is not included in the edition of I621. 

This and the following three pieces are from Greene's Vision. The 
l'ision exists only, so far as I can ascertain, in an edition undated, 
but undoubtedly published after his death, and probably just after 

396 NOTES 
his death, which occurred at the beginning of September, IS92. It 
was no doubt one of those many papers in booksellers' hands of 
which Chettle speaks in the Address to the Gentlemen Readers 
prefixed to A"imt-]-/arX's Dre«me. It is stated on the title-page 
that it was 'written at the instant of his death,' and in the words 
of Newman to Nicholas Sanders that ' it was one of the last workes 
of a wel known author,' and again it is spoken of as this 'last 
vision of virtue.' This is certainly hot truc. It was written, as 
internal evidence shows, before the publication of the fourzig 
Garme¢t in 59 o. On p. 74 IWorks, xii) he says, ' But for ail these 
follies that I may with the Ninivites show in sackcloth my hart 
repentaunce look as speedily as the press will serve for my mourning 
garment, a weede that I know is of so plaine a cut that it will please 
the gravest cie.' It was in fact the work which initiated his repentance. 
See (Works, xii) p. 73: '5Iy pamplets bave passed the presse and 
some have given them praise, but the gravest sort whose mouthes 
are the trumpets of truc report have spoken hardly of my labours. 
•.. I will begin fi-om henceforth to hate all such follies, and to write 
ofmatters of some import : either moral to discover the active course 
of virtue, how man should direct his life to the perfect felicity,' &c. 
Again: « I-Ience foorth Father Gower fare-well, the insight I have 
had into love's secrets, let Venus test in ber spheare.' On id. p. 74 
there is a reference fo his unfinished novel Arver loo Lale 
(published in I59o). Speaking of his determination not to write any 
more amorous pamphlets, he adds, ' Onely this (father Gower) I must 
end my nu1¢fuam sera esl and for that I crave pardon,' and that the 
Latin proverb is the title to the novel is proved by the fact that 
Grecne speaks of it by the motto ; cf. the Epistle Dedicatory to A2",êr 
loo Zale, 'this pamplet shall be attributed to your worship as to the 
man by whose meanes this Nufuam sera came to light.' It wil! 
be observed, too, that there is the saine reference to Nineveh ; indeed, 
the whole of the preface to the [ourzig Ç«sel is little more than 
a repetition of the promises which in the Vision he makes to Gower 
and Chaucer, and embodies in the Ode. This is confimed also by 
the opening sentence, where he says, ' After I was burdened with the 
penning of the Coler of Casleruy I waxed passing melancholy.' 
Now the Cobler of Cancerb«ry was an invective against Tarlêlon's 
Newes out of])urgaXoy, which was licensed Jnne 26, 59 o, to Thomas 
Newman and Thomas Gubbin, though no copy earlier than the 
edition of 63o is extant. We may with much probability assume 
that Tarleton's Newes was published at the time or shortly after it 
was licensed, and that the invective must have appeared hot long 
after the publication of the lVeoEves, presumably then in 59 o. See 
for more on this question the General Introduction. Dyce, who says 
that his acquaintance with this piece was confined to the description 

and the extracts from it in Collier's Introduction to 1)andosto, does hot 
print it. 
91. I correct ' places' for ' place,' an obviously necessary 
10. side: see note on I. 1. 17. 
11. water Chamlet: also Camelot, Chamelot, or Chamblet. Thê 
derivation of this word is uncêrtain, but it was a kind of stuff originally 
ruade of silk and of the hair of the Angora goat. Water or watêred 
camelot was camelot with a wavy or watered surface. Cotgrave's 
' Camelot à ondes.' Cf. Spênser, F. ., iv. II. 45, 'Vesture . . . with 
glittering spangs . . . and wav'd upon like watêrêd Chamelot,' and 
13acon, New Itlantis (Bacon's Works, ed. Bohn, vol. i. 2o3), ' He 
had on him a gowne with wide sleeves of a kind of water-chamblet 
of an excellent azure colour.' 
12. vhittell is êxplained by Coles as cullellus; it was a small 
clasp knife, and also a dirk or dagger. Cf. t¢ic]e Scorner (Hazlitt's 
19odsley, i. I68), ' Sheathe your vhittle: Narês and Halliwell quote 
Hall, SaL, "This knife a very dull whittle may cut asundêr.' 

Not printed by Dyce. 
Not printed by Dyce. 



11..Bisse, spelt also bise, bis, lys, is from the Greek/3««o through 
the Old French bysse, fine linen, but Roquefort, Glosse de la langue 
romane, i. 196, explains it as 'sorte d'étoffe de soie'; it seems to 
bave been used vaguely for a fine fabric. Cf. Tullie's Love, 'Clad 
in a robe of Bisse so thine as the whiteness of her skin did appeare' ; 
and .d A'nack lo hno'w a Atave (Hazlitt's 19odsley, vi. 56) : 
' I will be attir'd in cloth of bisse 
I3eset with Orient pearles fetch'd from rich India'; 
Peele's 1-]onour of tire Garto 3 1. 190 , 'Under a canopie of crimson 


I11 I6oo appeared the anthology entil;led t?ngh,nds Parnassus: 
' Englands Parnassus: or the choysest Flowers of our Moderne 
Poets, with Poeticall comparlsons : Descriptions ofBewties, Personages, 
Castles, Pallaces, Mountaines, Groues, Seas, Springs, lZiuers, &c. 
XVhereunto are annexed other various discourses, both pleasaunt and 
profitable. Imprinted at London for N. L. C. B. and T. H., 16oo2 The 
dedication and address to the reader, which are in verse, are signed 
with the initials R.A., and of this collection R.A. was the compiler ; 
and there can be little doubt that R. A. was Robert Allot*. Allot's 
variants in his readings are sometimes remarkable, and seem to 
indicate that he had taken his quotations from copies which are hOt 
now extant, or at all events known, though many of them are probably, 
and some of them certainly, mere errors in transcription or printers' 
blunders. No confidence can be placed in Allot's accuracy in the 
assignment of his quotations, which are hot infrequently so absurdly 
erroneous that we can only suppose either that he resorted recklessly 
to conjecture, or that his transcripts had got mixed. He assigns, for 
example, to Greene three passages from Spenser--two from b'irffil's 
Gnat and one from ll.[other Iu33erd's Tale (see 22, 24, and 25) ; 
and he attributes (pp. 361, 399) to D. (-----Dr.) Lodge lines 1323-45 
of the Loobinff Glasse and the verses to Samela in zllena2bhon . His 
attribution of Selimus to Greene has been discussed elsewhere (see 
General Introduction). To Greene Allot assigns altogether thirty-two 
extracts. Of these ail, with the exception of 4, 6, 8, Io, I1, I5, OEI, 
OE4, and 3», were identified by Collier. Numbers 6, 8, IO, I5, OEI, »4, 
and 3» have been identified by Mr. P. A. Daniel, and 4 and II by 
Dr. Grosart. For the reasons stated I bave thought it desirable to 
print Allot's citations in ectenso. 
t3eautie is a baine 
To such as feed their fancy with fond loue, 
That when sweet youth with lust is ouerthrowne, 
It rues in age. 
Under' 13eautie,' p. 18. 29erimedes, p. 292 , col. 2 (Dyce), su2bra , p. 246. 
t See Dr. Farmer's MS. note in his copy of the 29arnassus in the ]3ritish 
lX{useum, where he records that he had seen a copy of the work with the initials 
filled up, R[obert] A[llot], in contemporary handwriting. 
e There may loossibly be other extracts in the f'arnassus taken from Greene 
and assigned to other poets. 



Vhere Venus strikes with Beautie to the quicke, 
It little vailes sale reason to apply: 
Fewe are the cares for such as are loue sicke, 
But loue. 
Under 'Beautie,' p. 18. 29eri»zedes, p. 293 , col I (Dyce), suivra, p. 246. 
.The Court is counted Venus net, 
Where gifts and vows, forestalls are often set: 
None be so chaste as Vesta, but shall meete, 
A curteous tongue, to charme her eares with sweete. 
Under 'Court,' p. 42..]'ames I1, 11. 222-5. 
l-le that will stop the brooke must then begin 
XVhen sommers heat hath dried vp the spring: 
And when his pittering streames are low and thin. 
For let the winter aid vnto them bring, 
He growes to be of watry flouds the king: 
And though you damme him vp with loftie rankes, 
Yet will he quickly ouerflow his bankes. 
Under ' Delaie,' p. 55- Selimus, 11. 503-9 (Temple Dramatists). 
Z)emog,orffon ruler of the Fates. 
Under ' Fate,' p. 86. Orlando Furioso, 1. I272. See also Frier Bacon, 
1. I636  'Demogorgon maister of the rates." 
Whom feare constralnes to praise their Princes deeds, 
That feare eternall, hatred in them feeds. 
Under ' Feare,' pp. 89-9 o. Selimus, 11. I389-9o. 
The bodies vound, by medicines may be eased, 
]3ut griefes of heart, by salues are hot appeased. 
Under ' Heart,' p. 129. jrames IV, 11. 1662- 3. 
Hate bits the hie, and windes force tallest towers. 
Hate is peculiar to a Princes State. 
Under' Hate,' p. I29. Collier wrongly attributes both lines to jrames IV. 
The second line is in Selimus, 1. 1396. The first line I bave hot traced. 


Who passeth iudgement for his priuate gaine, 
He well may iudge he is adiudg'd to paine. 
Under 'Justice,' p. I55. Zooking Glasse, ll. 736-7. 
He knowes hOt what it is to be a King, 
That thinkes a Scepter is a pleasant thing. 
Under ' Kings,' p. I57. Selimus, 11.39-40. Collier wrongly -ttributes the 
lines to.trames 
Too true that tyrant 
Did picture out the image of a king: 
When 19amocles was placed in his throne, 
And ore his head a threatning sword did hang, 
Fastened vp only by a horses haire. 
Under ' Kings,' p. I58. Selimus, 11. 853- 7. 
Where whoredome raignes, there murder follows fast, 
As falling leaues before the winters blast. 
Under ' Lechery,' p. I64. Looking Glasse, 11. 893- 4. 
The Rose although in thornie shrubs she spread, 
Is still the Rose, her bewties waxe not dead. 
And noble mindes, although the court be bare, 
Are by resemblance knowne how great they are. 
Under' Nobilitie,' p. 2I 9. .lames 
The head that deemes to ouertop the skie, 
Shall perish in his humane pollicie. 
Under 'Pollicie,' p. 240. Zooking Glasse, 11. 1724- 5. 
Heauens are propitious vnto fearfull prayers. 
Under 'Pmyer,' p. 242. Lookhzg Glasse, 1. 2Ol 4. 
Sinnes haue their salues, repentance can do much. 
Under ' Repentance,' p. 253. Frier lacotz, 1. 1843. 
Seld speaketh loue, but sighes his secret paines, 
Teares are his truch-men, words do make him tremble. 
Under 'Teares,' p. 282. sIetzahon, p. 29o , col x (Dyce). 


Few words well coucht, doe most content the wise. 
Under ' Words,' p. 309. Al'ena2hon, p. 289, col. 2 (Dyce), su2ra , p. 258. 

Discurteous women natures fairest ill, 
The woe of man, that first createst curse, 
Base female sexe, sprung from blacke ttes loynes, 
Proude, disdainefull, cruell, and uniust, 
Whose words are shaded with inchaunting wiles, 
\Vorse then [«dusa, mateth all our mindes; 
And in their hearts sits shameles trecherie, 
Turning a truthlese vile circumference, 
O could my fury paint their furies forth, 
For hell, no hell compared to their hearts, 
Too simple diuelles, to conceiue their arts; 
Borne to be plagues vnto the thoughts of men, 
t3rought for eternall pestilence to the world. 
Under 'Women,' p. 315. Orlando Furioso, I1. 672-84. 

If crooked age accounteth youth his spring, 
The spring the fayrest season of the yeere, 
Enricht with flowers, and sweetes, and many a thing 
That fayre and glorious to the eye appeares: 
It fits that youth the spring of man should bee; 
Richt with such flowers as verrue getteth thee. 
Under 'Youth,' p. 322. 79erimedes, p. 293 , col. I (Dyce), sra, p. 246. 

 Lycaons sonne, 
The hardy plough-svaine vnto mightie loue, 
Hath trac'd his siluer furrowes in the heauen, 
And turning home his ouer-watched teeme, 
Giues leaue vnto tbolloes chariot. 
Under ' The Ditfision of the day naturall--Dilictfium,' pp. 36-7. 
tttrioso, II. 374-8- 
/3y this the night from forth the darksome bower 
Of lïrebus, her teemed steedes gan call, 
And lazie Veser in his timely howre, 
From golden Oeta gan proceede withall. 
Under 'Vesper,' p. 333. Spenser, Vis,Fs Gnat, 11. 313-6. 
COLL,S. ,  d 



The fairest flower that glories Affrica, 
Whose beautie Phebus date not dash with showres, 
Ouer whose climate neuer hung a cloude, 
]Sut smiling Titan lights the Horizon. 
Under ' Of Aegipt,' p. 349. Orlando 'urioso, 11. I6- 9. 

The heauens on euery side inclosed be, 
Black stormes and foggs are blowen vp from farre, 
That now the Pilot can no Load-starre see, 
But skies and Seas doe make most dreadfull warre; 
The billowes striuing to the heauens to reach, 
And th' heauens striuing them for to impeach. 
Under ' Of Tempests,' p. 364. Spenser, Virfil's Gnat, ll. 57 I-6. 
It was the month in which the righteous mayde, 
That for disdaine of sinfull worlds vpbraid, 
Fled backe to heauen where she was first conceiu'd 
Into her siluer bower the sunne receiu'd, 
And the hote Syrian dog on him awayting 
After the chafed Lyons cruell bayting, 
Corrupted had the ayre with noysome breath, 
And powrd on earth, plague, pestilence and dearth (sic). 
Under ' August,' p. 369. Spenser, irother 2rtubberd, 11. x-8. 

Disquiet thoughts the minutes of her watch, 
Forth from her Caue the fiend full off doth flie, 
To Kings she goes and troubles them with warres, 
Setting those high aspiring bonds on tire; 
That flame from earth vnto the seate of loue: 
To such as 3Iidas, men that dote on wealth, 
And rent the bowels of the middle earth 
For coine; who gape as did faire Z)anae 
For showres of gold; there discontent in blacke, 
Throwes forth the violls of her restlesse cares 
To such as set at PalShos for releefe: 
And offer Venus many solemne vowes 
"I'o such as 1-]yvtett in his saffron robe 
Hath knit a gordian knot of passions 
To these, to all, parting the gloomy ayre 
]31acke discontent doth make her bad repaire. 
Obscure and darke is ail the gloomy aire, 



The curtaine of the night is ouer-spread; 
The silent mistresse of the lowry spheare, 
Put on ber sable coloured vale and lover, 
Nor starre, nor milk-white circle of the skie, 
Appeares where Discontent doth hold her lodge, 
She sits shrin'd in a canapy of clouds, 
Whose massie darknes mazeth euery sence, 
Wan is her lookes, her cheekes of azure hue 
Her haire as Gorgons foule retorting snakes; 
Enuie _the glasse, wherein the hag doth gaze, 
Restlesse the clocke that chimes ber fast a sleepe. 
Under 'Of Discontent,' p. 377. 29eritned¢s, p. 292 , col.  (Dyce). This 
No. 26 shonld really include the whole of the ' Iitty,' commencing ' Obscure 
and dark,' supra, p. 245. The printer blundered : he printed the second hall 
commencing « Disquiet thoughts,' and gave Greene's naine at the end. Then 
he followed with thejçrst hall, as a separate extract, without any author's 
name. The punctuation in line IO is plainly wrong in the original; I have 
corrected it. 

Her locks are pleighted like the fleece of vooll 
That htson with his Grecian mates atchiu'd, 
As pure as gold, yet hot from gold deriu'd, 
As full of sweets, as sweet of sweetes is full: 
Her broves are prety tables of conceate 
Where Loue his records of delight doth quote, 
On them her dallying locks doe daily floate, 
As loue fui oft doth feede vpon the baite. 
Her eyes, faire eyes, like to the purest lights 
That animate the sunne, or cheere the day 
In whom the shining sun-beames brightly play 
Whilst fancie doth on them deuine delights. 
Her cheekes like ripened Lillies steept in wine, 
Or fayre Pomeq:anate kirnels washt in milke, 
Or snow-white threds in nets of Crimson silk% 
Or gorgeous clowdes vpon the sunnes decline. 
Her lips like Roses ouer-washt with de,v, 
Or like the Purple of Narcissus flowre, 
No frost theyr faire, no wind doth vrest theyr powre, 
But by her breath theyr beauties do renew. 
Her christal chin like to the purest mould 
]£nchast with dainties, Daisies soft and white, 
Where Fairies faire pauilion once is pight, 
XVhereas embrasd his beauties he doth hold. 
Her necke like to an Iuory shining towre, 


col.  (Dyce), sndra, p. 57- 
are omitted. 


Where through with azure vaines sweet Nectar runnes, 
Or like the downe of swanns, 
Or like delight that doth it selfe deuoure. 
I-fer paps are like fayre apples in the prime, 
As round as orient pearles, as sort as downe, 
They neuer vaile theyr faire through winters frowne, 
But from these sweets Loue suckt his sommer rime: 
Her bodies beauties best esteemed bowre, 
Delicious, comely, dainty, without staine, 
The thought whereof (not toucht) hath wrought my paine. 
Vhose face so faire all beauties doth distaine, 
Her maiden wombe the dwelling house of pleasure, 
Not like, for why no like surpasseth wonder: 
O blest is he may bring such beauties vnder, 
Or search by suite the secrets of that treasure. 
Under 'Description of Beautie and personage,' pp. 397-9- .h[cnahn,p. 289, 
In line 27 the words ' where Senesse wonnes" 

Mollo when my mistris first was borne 
Cut off his locks, and left them on her head, 
And sayd, I plant these wyres in natures scorne, 
Whose lustre shall appeare when time is dead: 
From forth the christall heauen when she was ruade, 
The purifie thereof did taint her brow, 
On which the glistering that sought the shade 
Gan set, and there his glories doth avow. 
Those eyes, fayre eyes, too faire to be describ'd, 
XVere those that erst the Chaos did reforme, 
To whom the heauens theyr beauties haue ascribd, 
That fashion life in man, in beast, in worme, 
When first ber fayre delicious cheekes were wrought, 
Murora brought her blush, the Moone her white, 
Both so combinde as passed natures thought, 
Compild those prety orbes of sweet delight: 
When loue and nature once were proud with play, 
From forth theyr lips, her lips their colour drew, 
On them doth rancie sleepe, and euery day 
Doth swallow ioy such sweet delights to view. 
While one while l/ënus sonne did seeke a bowre 
To sport with tsyches his desired deere, 
He chose ber chin, and from that happy stowre 
He neuer stints in glory to appeare. 
Desires and ioyes that long had serued loue, 


I3esought a hold where prety eyes might wooe them, 
Loue marie her neck, and for ber best behoue 
Hath shut them there vhere no man can vndoe them. 
Once Venus dreamd vpon two prety things» 
Her thoughts, they were affections cheefest nests, 
She suckt and sigh'd, and bath'd her in the springs, 
And when she wakt, they were my mistres breasts. 
Once Cubhl sought a hold to couch his kisses, 
And round the body of my best belou'd, 
Wherein he cloyd the beauty of his blisses, 
And from that bower can neuer be remou'd. 
The Graces erst when Acidalian springs 
XYere vexen dry» perhaps did finde her fountaine 
Within the bale of blisse, where Cugids wings 
Doe shield the Nectar fleeting from the fountaine. 
Under' Description of Beautie and personage,' pp. 404-6. 
col. I çDyce), suivra, p. 259. 

lenahon, p. ,9 o, 

 Her sparkling eyes 
Doe lighten forth sweet loues alluring tire 
And in her tresses she doth fotd the Iookes 
Of such as gaze vpon ber golden hayre. 
Her bashfull white mixt with the mornings red 
.Luna doth boast vpon her louely cheekes: 
Her ri'ont is 13eauties table, where she paints 
The glories of her gorgeous excellence: 
Her teeth are shehaes of pretious Margarite, 
Richly inclosd with ruddy Currall cleeues. 
Under 'Description of Beautie and personage,' p. 4oS. 
11. 52-61. 
Faire îs my loue for Aprill in ber face, 
Her louely breasts September claimes his part, 
And lordly Iuly in her eyes hath place, 
13ut cold December dwelteth in her hart, 
Blest be the months that sets my hart on tire 
Accurst that month that hindreth my desire. 
Like Phoebus tire, so sparkles both ber eyes, 
As ayre perfum'd with Amber is her breath, 
Like swelling waues her louely teates doe rise 
As earth her hart cold, dateth me to death. 
In pompe sits mercy seated in her face, 
Loue twixt ber breasts his trophies doth imprint, 

'rier t;a,-,n. 

Her eyes shines fauour, curtesie, and grac% 
But touch ber hart oh that is made of flint. 
Under ' Description of Beattie and personage,' pp. 4  -2. _Po'fmeares, p. 293, 
col. t (,Dyee), sui'a , p. 247. (,The last two lines of the scond and third 
verses are omitted.) 
Fayrer then was the Nymph of Iercurie 
\Vho when bright thoe«s mounteth vp his coach 
And tracks ,4«ra in ber siluer steps, 
And sprinckling from the folding of her lap 
White Lillies Roses and sweet Violets. 
Under 'Description of ]3eautie and personage,' p. 45 . Orlan«to 
1. 99-Io3. 
The Phaenix gazeth on the sunnes bright beames, 
The Echinaeus swims against the streames. 
Under 'Phoenix, p. 506. Seli»z«s, 11. 458-9 . Collier wrongly attributcs 
this to Orlando trurioso. 
Like to Z)iana in her sommer weede 
Girt with a Crimson robe of brightest die 
goes fayre Samelt, 
As fayre ,4urora in her morning gray, 
Deckt with the ruddy lustre of her loue 
is fayre Sa»cela, 
Like louely Thelis on a calmed day, 
When as her brightnes AZe2ble«tes rancie moues, 
Shines faire Seine&t. 
Her tresses gold, her eyes like glassie streames, 
Her teeth are pearle, the breasts are Iuory 
of faire Sa»cela. 
Her cheekes like rosie-lillies yeeld forth gleames, 
Her browes bright arches, framde of Ebonie, 
thus faire Samela. 
Passeth faire Izot2ts in ber brauest hue, 
And ]uno in the shew of maiestie, 
for she is Same[a. 
19allas in wit, ail three if you will view, 
For beauty, wit, and matchlesse dignitie 
yeeldes faire Smela. 
Under Description of Beautie and personage»' p. 399- Ascribed by the 
l,rinter of 't, fflazd's 29arnass«s to D. Lodge. 




= Alphonsus, King of Arragon. 
= A Looking Glasse for London and England. 
= Orlando Furioso. 
= Frier Bacon and Frier Bongayo 
= James the Fourth. 
= Pinner of Wakefield. 

//./?. = A Maidens Dreame. 
The Roman numerals refer to the Poems. 

Ablata causa, F. B. 998. 
Abraide, A. 491. 
Aby, 2O. 476. 
Actean, L. G. 2261. 
Addittes, L. G. 1543. 
Addrest, j. 793. 
Adons flowrs, O. F. 643. 
Adrad, iii./. 26. 
Aeromancie, E./Y. 188. 
Affectionate, E./Y. 1436. 
Albe, E. 1. 1835. 
Alcumena, A. 798. 
Alderliefest, xlvii. 42. 
Alder truest,J. 2403. 
Ale, L. G. 1616. 
Almain, E./L 806. 
Amated, O. E. 488. 
Amorets, ri'./Y. 1264. 
Amort, F. ?. 21. 
Anthropagei, O. ri'. 11I. 
Approue, liii. 37- 
Asbeston stone, `4. 565. 
As it pa.sseth, O. F. 853. 
Atchieud the mightie Monarch, ,4. 
Attend, L. G. 8. 
Authors red, .4. 59- 
Axier, L. G. 15o 5. 
Ay, J. i. 
BanderoII, O./?. 765. 
Bash, L. G. 3- 
Bat, 2O. 871. 
Battling, E. 2. lO91. 
Beggars, ' by no beggars swore,'2o. 22o. 
Binde, J. 1327. 
Bisas, Z. G. 1339. 
Bisse, Ixxxviii. 

Blacke iack, J. 845. 
Blacke pots, F. B. 6I 5. 
Blasphemous, accent of, A. 1679. 
Blee, 2 °. 867. 
Blend, lxi. 5- 
Blent, J. 1761. 
Blew (Couentrie), 2 °. 382. 
Blin, lxi. 23. 
Bocardo, F./. 895. 
Borachio, Z. G I252. 
Borrow, lvi. 33- 
Braids, lxviii. 62. 
Braue, O./7. 165. 
Bright of blee,/9. 867. 
Brodgates Hall, F./Y. 1793- 
Browne bill, 2;:/?. 1581. 
Brutes, P. B. I82I. 
Bum, . I I85. 
By thick and threefold, .4.52. 

Calletta, J. 169o. 
Carouse,/9. lO81. 
Caruels, O. F. 86 ; F./?. 1344. 
Censure, O. F. 15. 
Cha, 2. G. lO41. 
Che, Z. G. Io4I. 
Cheape, F./. 348. 
Cladde in grey, O. F. 1282. 
Clapperdudgeon,/9. 908. 
Cleues, F./L 61. 
Clocks on Shroue-tuesday, J. 1625. 
Coat, F./Y. 145. 
Cog, J. 52. 
Commoditie, Z. G. 28o, 293. 
Couceipt, O. F. 544, I 129. 
Conuay, J. II57. 
Cope, F. B. 351. 
Copper-Smithes hall, F./L 537- 
Counterfeit, F./L 453. 



Counterpaine, Z. G. 322. 
Counteruaile, A. 28. 
Crake, `4. 5o. 
Crush a pot, 29. Io7 I. 
Curats, 0. F. 32. 
Curioser, A. I83O (anomalous com- 
paratives in Elizabethan Dramatists). 
Cut, L. G 2I 5. 
Cut and longtaile, 29. lO6 7. 
Cutting, av. 2. 16. 
Cyparissus Change» 19. 2 v. 144 5. 

Daigne, A. I7, 9 I. 
Damas, F./5'. 453- 
Darkes, 0. av. 968. 
Daucocke, F./5'. 889. 
Daw, J. I899. 
Death, A. 943- 
Deciphred, liii. 32. 
Deemes, .[. 903 . 
Delphos,.[. 862. 
Demogorgon, _; /5'. 1636. 
Denay, A. lO66. 
Detract, .ff. 3o7 . 
Dilated, 3/./9. 67. 
Disbase, A. 1594- 
Disiest,J. 87o. 
Docket, J. 483. 
Doubts, .Z- 614- 
Drabbler, L. 6. I328. 
Driff, .ri. 296. 
Durandell, O./7. 123. 

Earbes,.[. 379- 
Echinus, A. 984. 
Ene, J. 633. 
Erythea, O av. 968. 
Euphrates, quantity of, in Elizabethan 
writers, O. av. 4 o. 

Faire, L. G. 8I ; P. 233. 
Fashion, L. G. 234. 
Fast fancied, av. 2Y. 573. 
Fawchens, xxiv. 6. 
Flight, .4.4oz. 
Fly, ,4. 17. 
Folle, 21./. 29. 34 I. 
For, av./Y. 764. 
For why, Z. G. 83. 
Found, 29. io69. 
From, L. G. 423. 
Frounst, i. 14. 
Frumpe, ./. 957- 

Geason, 3r. 29. 186. 
Geere, L. G. 681. 
Giglot, O. av. I67. 
Glories, O. F. 16. 
Glose, 3/:. D. 89. 
Gnatho,.fi. 958. 

Gnathonicall, O. av. 317 . 
Gogs wounds, F. 2. 548. 
Gossampine, Z. G. I377. 
Gree, L. G. 34; 3I. 29. III ; li. 8. 
Greene gowne, 29. 374. 
Greet, 3/. 29. 28. 
Guesse, av./L 299. 

Hadromaticke, './. I86. 
Hand-fast, av./. 755- 
Harpe shilling,.. 127o. 
Haughte, L. G. 39- 
Haw, .4. 933- 
Heale, 3L 29. 1I 5. 
Hebrew, L. G. 3o4 . 
Hent, . 29. 347. 
Hilding, av./L 4o5 . 
Hoe, out of all, av. /L 1733. 
Hold thee play, O. av. 255. 
Hom thumb, Z. G. I661. 
Horyzon, quantity of, in Elizabethan 
writers, 19..F. 19. 
Howe, . 8o. 
Hoysed, O. av. Io 9. 
Hufcap, L. G. 784. 
Humble stresse, Z. G. 14o 7. 
Humbls, av. /L 1958 , 2o28. 
Hunts-vp, O. av. 386. 
Hurling, L. G. 1325. 

Imploy, J. 203. 
Into, 2 °. 800. 

Jacks, av. . 1361 . 

Laid, av./L Io9I. 
Lamana, L. G. 19Ol. 
Lampe, av./L 1355- 
Lauolta, Ix. 2o. 
Lawndes, O. F. 5o 5. 
Lazing, `4.57- 
Leech, d r. 442. 
Leese, 29. 629. 
Lemmon, L. G. 2. 
Lepher, L. G. 223o. 
Lettice for his lips» O. . 318. 
Lewely, d r. 6o 4. 
Lifter, d r. I 164. 
Ligge, xlvii. 3 o. 
Light-fingered, . 2Y. 559- 
Linne, lii. 7. 
Listen out, 29. 55- 
Locrum,.[. 1571. 
Lope, ./r. 26. 
Louely,.[. 123. 
Luus in fabula, O. av. 322. 
Lurden, /¢. 841. 

Magars, O. F. 86. 
Malgrado, O. av. 1367. 


Manchet, Z. G. 2132. 
Manoth, Oo F. 24. 
Margarets, O. ri'. 76, 77. 
Marshalsie (anachronisms of Eliza- 
bethan dramatists), A. I379. 
Mas, l. 2023. 
Mathematicke, F. B. 244. 
May, xlvii. 57- 
iay sale, J. 536. 
Mease, L. G. 570- 
Mirabiles, F. B. 1353. 
Misconstrest, J. 966. 
Mizaldo, L. G. 630. 
Mockado, L. G. 575- 
Moly, O. F. 829. 
Morglay, J. I698. 
Morris dance, . B. 166. 
Mouse, A. 1598. 
Mutton, F. B. 1895. 

Neece, M. 364. 
Needs, A. 11o 9. 
Nere the nere,J. 59. 
Nigromansie, ri'. 8. 762. 
Nill. _p. 862. 
Noble, L. G. 684. 
Nocent, f. 231o. 

Of, `4. 897; 0. ri'. 138. 
0n,J. 83. 
0stry fagot, L. G. 1242. 
0uerthwart, .4. 31 o. 
Out of hand, .4. 384. 

Paggle, ri'. 8. 1421. 
Painful, A. 6. 
Paire of cardes, ri'. B. 1998. 
Pall, AI. 29. 18. 
Pantophles, -. 8. 878. 
Paroll, Z. G. 1298. 
Pasht, 0. ri'. 414 . 
Passe, .4. 265 . 
Peate, L. G. 544- 
Pennilesse bench, J. 1563. 
Pentageron, F. 8. 222. 
Perseuerance, _P. 620. 
Persenered, L. G. 159. 
Pheere, L G. I49o. 
Philautia, J. 124o. 
Phobeter, F. 8. 1554. 
Pick-packe, ri'. B. 26o. 
Pickrell, J. 760. 
Pike, L. G. 96I. 
Pill, J. 2o63. 
Pinner, '. tir[e. 
Piromancie, ri'. B. I86. 
Plackerd, ri'. 8. I IO. 
Plaine, ri'. B. 189. 
Play bob foole, A. 1355. 
Plundges, L G. IO6O, 2oî9. 
lolicie, 0. ri'. 315 • 

Portaee, ri'. /. 7.I. 
Portingale, 0. ri'. 82. 
Powle, L. G. 1729; J. 2056. 
Poynt of warle, 0. F. 386. 
Prease, AL. G. 1423. 
Prest, .4. 1227. 
tro3atum est, O. ri'. 894. 
Proofe, 0. ri'. 412. 
Provesse, 0. 2 3o8. 

Quittance, o. F. 126o. 

Races, L G. 780. 
Raine, J. 899. 
Read-herings cob, AL. G. 2122. 
Rebated, 0. -. 8. 
Record, 1. 5. 
Recurelesse, J. 987. 
Regiment, 0. ri'. 46. 
Relent, 0. a: 649. 
Rid, J. 20. 
Ridstall man, J. S.D. (oçcning). 
Roade, P. I o. 
Roseall, J. 1995. 
Rones, fi. Z. 247. 
Rnfflers,/7. 8. 838. 
Run her cheese, /;. /¢. 8o. 

Sacklesse, lxii. 9- 
Satrapos, L. G. I IS6. 
Say nay, and take it, L. G. 453. 
Scab, ri'. 8. 36. 
Scantle, AL. G. 1327. 
Sect, .4. 1597. 
Seene,J. 2153. 
Sendall, 0. ri'. 1438. 
Sethin, ri'. 8. 976. 
Sewer, fi 8. 13o2. 
Shadow, ri'. 8. 647. 
Shan Cuttelelo, 0. F. 1114. 
Sheate, 2 B. 846. 
Sheere hogs, .4. 79- 
Shrub,/. lO54. 
Side, i. I7. 
Siege, lxiv. 3- 
Sights, J. 59 o. 
Sithens, A. 1189. 
Sldnck, AL. G. 1768. 
Skonce, O. -: 235. 
Slights, A. 1I ; zl. 29. 166. 
Smother, O./;. 246. 
Sod, L. G. 354- 
Sousewife, aP. 367- 
Sparkes, _P. 200. 
Stale, AL. G. 1966 ; lxi. 18. 
Stammell, E. 8. 17- 
Stand, .4. 33 ; -P. 1074- 
Stapled, F. 8. 1418. 
Statute lace, AL. G. 
Stoand horse, lxix. 6. 
Stomacke, A. 34. 




Stowre, xxxiv. 39- 
Straines, lviii. 37- 
Strouting, F. B. 1421. 
Supersedeas, O./: 179. 
Suspition, O. a w. 122. 
Sussapine, L. G. 886. 
Swad, xvi. 22. 
Syth, xlviii. 42. 

Tables,J. 488. 
Tabrobany, O. ri'. 3- 
Taint, F. '. 67. 
Take the foile, ri'. '. 1216. 
Tarbox, j. I  25. 
Teisers, _F./L 5- 
Temper,/r./?. 617. 
Tharsns, L. G. 957- 
Thrasonicall, O./ 317. 
Threap,./'. 25. 
Tired,/r. /L 992. 
Titans neeces, O..F. 665. 
To,./'. 436. 
Too too, "4. 1336. 
Traines, L G. I573. 
Trash,]. 42. 
Trillill,f. 1134. 
Triple world, .4. 166. 
Trophonius,f. 332- 
Truceman, xxxiii. 62, vol. il. p. 386. 

Vade, lxx. 3 o. 
Vale, i. 6. 
Vayle, O. F. 1241 ; /. 47- 
Veluet horses, 29. 41 I. 
Venie, /7. /5'.  809. 
Vilde, A. 512. 
Vnfret, L. G. 958. 
Vnles, .4. 1 îT- 
Vp, M. 1934. 
Vre, .4. 36. 
Warrantize, 0. E. 783. 
XVater Chamlet, lxxxv. II. 
Watrie Thessalie, &c., 0. F 208. 
Weane, .f. 624. 
Welt, fi'. . 1993. 
Whereas, A. 4 . 
Whigge, xlvil. 29. 
Whilst, a w. . 497- 
Whiniard, . 25. 
White, L. G. 1282. 
XYhitfie, lxxxv. 12. 
Will, M. 194o ; /7./L 471 ; f. 191 
Vfinde in that door, Z. G. 289. 
Wood, O./7. 904. 
Woond,.f. 541. 
Woonder, / B. 489 . 
Yblent, lxi. ri. 
Year whayle, J. 13. 


t?eferences to the second vohtme bave ' ii.' 2brejqxed la the age number. 

Abbott, Dr. Edwin ii. 33x, 35î, 364- 
Aegyptian courtisan, il. 34 . 
Aelian, quoted, ii. 338. 
Aeschylus, quoted, il. 544- 
Aippa, Cornelius, ii. 347- 
Albttma-ar(Tomkins'),quoted, il. 333- 
Allevn MS., of portion of Orlando 
ç'ttrioso, 215-6 ; transcript of it, 266- 
7S ; MSS. cited, 26. 
Allot, Robert, a misleading guide, 59 
note, 6 ; his doubtful testimony, 62 ; 
his edition of Iz'nglantfs 'arnassus, 
ii. 398. 
Anachronisms in Elizabethan writers, 
Aratus, ii. 387, 3ço- 
Ariosto (Ludovico), influence of his 
Orlando on Greene, 27-8; quoted, 
-9 z, 3z, 36, 377 ; ii. 382, 38 
ArLtotle, 6 ; il. 36: 364- 
Aschzm, Roger at what age he ma- 
triculated 12 ; 6, z 7 ; quoted, 3oz. 
Aspasia, ii. 338. 
Atchelow, Robert, 41. 

Bache, Mr., 14 note. 
]3acon, Anthony, at what age he 
matriculated, 2 note. 
]3acon, Francis il. 397- 
Bacon, f'riar, Famous Iistorie of, ii. 
a, 6-r4- 
]3acon, Sir Nicholas, x r. 
]3aker Thomas, ii.  note. 
]3ail, 9; Greene's acquaintance with, 
24 • 
]3amfield, Richard, 55- 
]3eccles, position of, ii. 330. 
Bedlam, the burying-ground near, 4 S ; 
its exact site, id. note. 
Bembo, Cardinal, 56. 
]3ernhardi, W., his oberg Greenes 
Le&'n etttd SchHflen, eDe hislorisch- 
kriHschê Skze, x. 
]3ird, Christopher, his letter, 36. 
lqlackamoore, E., ii. 65. 
]31omefield, Rev. Francis, his Histoy 
of orwich, o note. 
]3occaecio, similarity of The Cobler of 
Canterburv to, 25. 
]3orbonius» ]Matthias» il. 3S3. 

Brabine, Thomas, on Greene, 39 ; his 
verses, 42, î5 note. 
Brathwayte, Richard, ii. I65, 394- 
Browne, Ned, his relation fo Greene, 
33 and note; his Co».fessions, 5I. 
Browne, SirThomas, 309, 311 ; il. 343- 
Bruno, Giordano, his account of Oxford, 
Bullen, Mr., 2. 
Bungay, Friar, account of, ii. 334- 
]3unyan, John, his autobiography cited, 
Burby, Cuthbert, 49; his connexion 
with the A'eentazce, 5I-2; with 
Orlando f:urioso, I5; with 2he 
J"imer of lVakejqeld, 159- 
]3urleigh, Lord, quoted, 17- 
]3urnely, his silence about Greene as 
a dramatist, 39- 
]3urns, Robert ii. 385- 
Burton, Robert, quoted, 314 . 
]3utler, Mr. A. J., ii. 39- 
Butler, Samuel, Hudibras, quoted, il. 
Camden, William, 52; il. 22; on 
the character of ir Christopher 
Hatton, 2-,. 
Campbell, Lord Chancellor quoted, 
ii. 378, 379- 
Campion, Thomas, .9- 
Chapman, George, 9 61. 
Chaucer Greene's imitation of, 2ri; 
Greene's vision of, 7- 
Cheke, Sir John, 16. 
Chettle, Henry, on the Vision, 26 
note, 47; his apology, 49; on the 
authenticity of the lçepenlance, fi, 
52 ; ri3 ; description of Greene, 53-4. 
Cibber, Theophilus 60, 68 ; ii. I fig, 
6, 66. 
Cicero, x 5, 308, 39 o. 
Cinthio, G. ]3. Giraldi, his ):fecalom- 
mithi, supplies the plot of James IU, 
ii. 80. 
Cobler ofCanlerlmy account of, 25 ; 
quoted, 295. 
Collier John Payne, his discovery, 22 
note; on the authorship of Eqhues 
Shadoev, 35 ; his discovery, 215-6 ; 
ii. 59- 

Cooper, Thomas ?, his Athenae Can- 
tabrigi«nses, I ; Armais, '5 note, 18 
CraiE, Mr. W. J., ii. 353- 
Creede, Thomas, 62, 7% 137 ; ii. 79- 
Cuthbert Burby, 49- 
I)aniel, Mr. P. A., 316, 317; on the 
plot of_/rames I1/', ii. 80, 166. 
Z)aniel, Samuel, age at which he 
matriculated, 12, 59- 
I)ante, ii. 309, 358, 394, 395- 
Z)anter, John, 215. 
Deighton, Mr. D. K., 302, 308; il. 
340,353, 361- 
13ekker, Thomas, 279. 
I)esportes, ri6. 
I)ickens, Carles, quoted, 288. 
Dictys Cretensis, 313. 
13iodorus, Sicnlus, quoted, ii. 356. 
)iogenes Laertitls, quoted, il. 287. 
Dionysius (the Geographer), quoted 
)ouce, Francis, on the 'cols of Shake- 
speare, ii. 32fi. 
Igrayton, Miehael, 59, 62; ii. I65, 
342 , 39 ° • 
Ducange, quoted, 
l)yee, his edition of Greene's Plays 
and Poems, I, 19; on the identifica- 
tion of Greene, 2o-2 note ; on ' Poo,' 
42 ; 53 note ; his testimony to Greene, 
59; 76, 138, 139 note I42 , 216; ii. I 
note, 5, 160, 221. 
Eliote, J., his silence about Greene as 
a dramatist, 39.75 note. 
Erasmus, his Adagia quoted, 3IO. 
Eratosthenes, quoted, il. 393- 
Euripides, 28î. 
Fazio, Barthlemy, his _MCoirs of 
Alihonza 1/', 76. 
Fielding, Henry, the relation oflmelia 
to his life, 5. 
Fleay, Mr. F. G., his Chronide oflhe 
2ïnglislz Z)rama, 2; on the identi- 
fication of Greene, 2o; on the date 
of Al2honsus, 42; 43 note, 61 note, 
63, 69, 74, 14° note ; on the date of 
rier t3acmz, ii. I ; on the date of 
James II/; 79 ; on Lodge's connexion 
with the play, 85 ; 329. 
'om Acidalus, site of, ii. 386. 
Fortunatus, 9, 24- 
Fraunee, Abraham, 59, 71. 
Fremingham, position of, ii. 33I. 
Fressingfield, ii. 325. 
Yulwell, U1pian, quotexl, ii. 375- 
Yurnivall, Dr. F. J., Itarrison's 
gland, I note, Iî note, 21 note; 
68 note. 


Gascoigne, George, 41, 57- 
G. B., his silence about Greene as a 
dramatist, 39, 75 note. 
Geoffrey of Monmouth, quoted, ii. 
348 • 
Gesner, Jean, 284. 
Gilehrist, Oetavius, his Examination 
of ten Jonson's t'nmily towards 
Shakeseare,  9 ; 20. 
Glanville, Bartholomew, 286. 
Goethe, quoted, ii. 329 ; referred to, 
id. 34 ° . 
Goffe, Thomas, 6I. 
Golding, Arthur, 4 l. 
Gower, John, Greene's vision of, 27. 
GREEIIE, ROBERT, difficulties of his 
biographer, I ; Dyee's edition of his 
Playsand Poems, id. ; Cooper'snotice 
ofhim, id.; Bernhardi's ioberl Greenes 
Zeben und Schriften, eDte hislorisch- 
kritische Skizze, id. ; eontributors to 
his biography, 2 ; his supposed auto- 
biographical novels reviewed and 
examined, -1o ; birth and parentage, 
IO-14 ; early life and edueation, 14- 
I 7 ; travels, I 7 ; retum to England, 
18; early eareer as a writer, 9; 
alleged ordination, 19-21 ; marriage, 
22; early lire in London, 23- 4 ; 
The Cobler of Cnlerbury, 25-6; 
Greends 1/ïsion, 26-8; the 
ing Garment, 28; his promise of 
repentanee, 29 ; his Conny-Catehing 
Pamphlets, 3o-4 ; The Elacke 
34 ; / ./]Iaidens 19reame and eafly 
satires, 35 ; his attaek on the Harveys, 
36-7 ; his connexion vith the stage, 
37-42; Alphonsus and the Looking 
Glasse, 43 ; eonjeetured order of his 
plays, 44 ; elosing days, 44-7 ; death, 
47 ; bnrial, 48 ; Harvey's attack on 
his memory, 48-5 ° ; Nash's luke- 
warm defenee of Greene, 5o ; authen- 
tieity of The eentance, 51-3; 
Nash's indignation against Harvey, 
53 ; description of Greene in appear- 
anee, 53-4; his manners and ehar- 
acter, 54; his services to English 
Literature, 54-5 ; poems, 55-6 ; 
charaeteristies as a dramatist, 56-î ; 
his position among dramatists, 57; 
Shakespeare's debt to him, 58 ; testi- 
monies to his popularity, 59-60; 
dramas attributed to him, 6o-1 ; the 
authorship of Selimus, 61-7; his 
connexion with 11enry UI, 67-9; 
with Ix'ngJohn, 69; probable date 
of Al;#honsus, 70; resemblance of 
Alphonsus to Spenser's poems, 7o-I 
to Marlowe's 7amburlaine, 71-3; 
arguments as to Al2honsus being 



Greene's earliest extant drama, 73-5 ; 
identity of Alphonsus, 75 -6 ; probable 
production of the Looking Glasse, 
I37 ; collaboration with Lodge and 
probable date, 138 ; object for which 
it was written, 139 ; vhat parts can 
be assigned to Lodge, I4O-I ; editions 
ofthe play, I41-2 ; Orlando 'urioso, 
title-page and text, 2I 5 ; connexion 
ofthe Alleyn MS., 215-6; uncelainty 
of its date, 216; what suggested it 
to Greene, 217 ; influence of Ariosto, 
217--8 ; and of Marlowe, 219; Greene's 
ignorance of the psychology of in- 
sanity, 219 ; probable date of 'rier 
tacon, ii. I ; analogy with Marlowe's 
hustus discussed, 2- 3 ; its relation 
with Faire Em, 4; or;gin of the 
play, 5; uncertainty of the date of 
James IV, î9 ; or;gin ofthe plot, 8o ; 
to what extent Greene anticipates 
Shakespeare in this play, 83; com- 
par;son with A Alidsummer-2Vight's 
Jgream, 'q3-4 ; vhether itis the work 
of a single hand, 85 ; authenticity of 
The tYnn«r of IVake.fleld, 159-63; 
or;gin of the plot, 164-6; the 
prose narrative, 167-77 ; A Alaidens 
Z)rgame, 22 I. 
Greene, George, I I, 
Greene, Henry, 12. 
Greene, John, I I. 
Greene, Alderman Robert, o. 
Greene, Robert, II, I2. 
Greene, Thomas, IO. 
Greencs Funerals, 49" 
Gregory VIlI, Pope, 2o note. 
Grene, Mary, . 
Grene, Tobias, 12. 
Grimoald, Nicholas, ii. 373. 
Grindal, Archbishop, 16. 
Grosart, Dr., 2; on the identification 
of Greene, 2o ; i, 23 note, 34 note, 
36 note; on the authorshipofSelimus, 
61-6, î4 note; 42, 26 ; ii. I, 4 note. 
Guazzo, Marco, or Stefano, il. 394- 

Haddon, Walter, 16. 
Hake, Edvard, his silence about 
Greene as a dramatist, 39- 
Hall, Walter, 14 note,  7- 
Harington, Sir John, influence of his 
Ariosto on Greene, 44, 217" 
Harrison, William, age at wh;ch he 
matriculated, 12 ; his tfflalzd, 15 ; 
on English professors, 17; on Church 
patronage,  . 
Harvey, Gabriel, I5, 21 ; on Greene's 
life 24 note ; Greene's account of his 
brothers, id., 37; revenge on, 36; 
his Fou'e Leltcrs 37; Spenser's 

praise of, 37 note ; visits Greene, 45 ; 
47, 48 ; on the Repentante, 52 ; 53, 
54, 68 ; his detestable hexameters, ii. 
Harvey, John, Greene's revenge on, 
Harvey, Richard, Greene's revenge on, 
36; Nash's opinion of, 36; 
pamphlets, 36 note. 
Hatton, Sir Christopher, ii. 221-2. 
Henslowe, Phil;p, his Diary, 38, 43 
note, 44; I37, 215-6; ii. I, 3, I59- 
Herodotus, quoted, 3o4, 3o 9. 
Hesiod, quoted, 305. 
Hesperides, misconception of, in Eliza- 
bethan writers, 3o5 . 
Heylin, Peter, quoted, 314. 
Heywood, John, ii. I59. 
Heywood, Thomas, his ttierarchie of 
the llessed Anels, 26 note; his 
testimony to Glxene, 6o. 
Hodgetts, E. A. B., 2. 
Horaee, Greene's quotation from, 25, 
Hunter, Rev. J., Collectanea Zfunler- 
;ana, 19 note. 
Hyginus, quoted, il. 39 o, 393. 
Ingleby, Dr., 2 ; on the identification 
of Greene, 2o ; 5 ° note. 
Ireland, WiIliam Henry, il. 16o. 
Isam (Mrs.), Greene's hostess. 
Jonson, Ben, his testimony to Greene, 
59; 60, 26; il. 35, 37 ° . 
Juby, Eward, 2o; il. I59, 16o. 
Kemp, William, 57- 
Lactantius, quoted, ii. 339, 344- 
Lambert, Stepheu, 14 note. 
Lampson, Godfrey Locker, possessor 
of the Zooking Glasse MS., 142. 
Langbaine, Gel'ard, 6I ; on the _Pinner 
of Wabe.fleld, ii. a59. 
Lee, Miss Jane, on the authorship of 
lenry KI, 68. 
Lee, Robert, Greene's acquaintance 
with, 23. 
Lister, Mr. R. T., 48 note. 
Lodge, Thomas, Greene's relations 
with, 2 ; 13 ; Greene's acquaintance 
with, 23 ; the Euphues 57adow, 35 ; 
38 , 43, 44, 49; comparison with 
Greene's lyrics, 55 ; 59 note ; 61, 68, 
70 note, 74, I37 ; his connexion with 
Greene, his A larum agains! Usurers, 
i38-4i; I7, 293 ; il. 3 note; his 
connexion with James lU discussed, 
85 note. 
Lowndes, W. T., 70; ii. I note. 
Lucan quoted, 31 ; ii. 344. 



Lucian, quoted, ii. 328. 
Lucretius, ii. 361. 
Lyly, John, ageat which he matricn- 
lated, 12; 38; coupled with Greene 
asa poet, 39; 57, 59, 60; quoted, 284. 

Malone, Edmuud, on 2[ucedor«ts, 60, 
61; 39 note; ii. 1 note. 
Manilius, quoted, 317 . 
Marlowe, Christopher, at what age 
he matriculated, 12 ; as a scholar, 
16 ; his acquaintance with (;reene, z 3; 
what his Tambttrlaine, initiated, 37 ; 
38, 39 ; Nash's contempt of, 4  ; 42 ; 
the music of his verse, 43; 49, 
Shakespeare'sdebt to, 58 ; 59, 60, 63, 
64, 6S, 7  ; resemblance between his 
Tantburhrine and A[p]tOttSttS, 7z-6 ; 
74, 75 ; influence on Greene, 138 ; his 
Fattstus, ii. 2. 
Marston, John, 59, 38. 
Meres, Francis, his indignation at the 
ttack on Greene, 53 ; on Greene as 
a dramatist, 57 ; as a poet, 59 ; I39 
Mertins, Oscar, ii. 16» note, 6. 
Milton, quoted, ii. 344, 358. 
Mitford, Rev..[., on ' Poo,' 42 ; ii. 3S9 . 
Mizauld, Antonio, 295. 
More, John, his sermon, and its effect 
on Greene, 8. 
Mother W-ters, ii. 3.7 . 
Moyle, Isabelle, I note. 
Mullinger, Bass, his tfislory of l]ze 
Universily of Cambrid,e, 15 note; 
 7 note. 
Munday, Anthony, hi Dowtfall of 
obert arl of l-funtinfftot, ii. 162, 
Musaeus, 60, 61. 
Musidore, 6o, 61. 

Iqash, Thomas, at ,vhat age he m atricu- 
lated, 12: 13, 5; his address in 
Greene's A[enaphon, 16 ; I î; Greene's 
acquaintance with, 23 ; his Stran¢e 
2Veroes, 24 and note, 26 note; his 
opinion of Richard Harvey, 36; ou 
Greene's attack on Richard Harvey, 
36 ; 38 ; his silence about Greene as 
a dramatist, 39 ; his address in 
[enophon, 41; his apathyat Greene's 
last illness, 45; 49; his relation to 
Greene, 5o ; his defence of Greene, 53; 
his description of Greene, 53-4; 
68, 74, 75 note; his Christ's Tears 
over Jerusalem, t 39. 
Nicholas, Sir Harris, lais discovery, 
19 ; ii. 222. 
Iqicholson» Dr., ii. 3î3- 

Nixon, Anthony, his Stranffe Foot- 
post, quoted, ii. 340. 
N. W., editor of 39inner of ll/'akefield, 
ii. 164. 

Oates, Titus, 
Ockland, Christopher, on Sir Chris- 
topher Hatton, ii. 222. 
Ouvry, Frederic, his edition of 7"he 
Cahier of CanterbtoT, 9- 5 note. 
Overbury, Sir Thomas, his testimony 
to Greene, 60. 
Ovid, ii. 28, 326, 343, 358, 365, 385 . 

Parsons, Father Robert, hisResolution, 
its effect on Greene, 46. 
Peele, George, at what age he ma- 
triculated, 19. ; his acquaintance with 
Greene, z3 ; S'q, 39, 4  ; his Farewdl, 
42 ; his .SIahomet, 43 note; 49; his 
silence as to Greene's eminenee, 59 ; 
his popnlar play, 63 ; 69, 71, 75 ; h.s 
Old IVives Talc, z16, 38. 
Phaer, Thomas, 4 , 59. 
Phillips, Edward, il. I59. 
Phillips, John, quoted, ii. 363 . 
Plato, 315. 
Pliny, the elder, quoted, 97,309, 3   ; 
ii. 34L 
Plutarch, quoted, ii. 337, 353, 355- 
Preston, Thomas, 63. 

Quintili.n, Institutes of, 15. 

Rainsford, Edward, his silence about 
Greene as a dramatist, 39- 
Reardon, James P., ii. z2I. 
2etetlatce of Robert Greete, probable 
authenticity of, 49- 
Rich, ]3arnabie, quoted, ii. 379- 
Ritson, Joseph, il. 59, 165, 66. 
Rognes, various classes of in Eliza- 
bethan London, 3o-1. 
Ronsard. Pierre, 56. 
Rowe, Sir Thomas, 48. 
Rowland, Samuel, his tesfimony to 
Greene, 59- 
Rowley, Thomas, il. 16o. 
Ruding, Rogers, Aznals of 2-he 
Coina,e, quoted, ii. _6o. 
Rymer, Thomas, t;oedera,  9" 

Sannazzaro, 55, 56. 
Scrasblesea, identified, ii. 369. 
Selimus, authorship ofdiscused, 6-6. 
Seneca (Lucius Annaeus), quoted, 28. 
Servius t Virgilian Commentator), 313 ; 
il. 386. 
Shakespeare, William, 38; Greene's 
att-ck on, 49 note ; Greene's probable 



jealousy of, 5 ° ; 55, 57 ; his debt to 
Greene, 58 ; his debt to Marlowe, 
58; 6o, 62 ; Greene's connexion with 
1-fenry V[, 6ï; ii. I59, 16o, 165, I67. 
Shelley (Percy Bysshe), quoted, il. 
Sidney, Sir Philip, his silence about 
Greeue as a dramatist, 9 ; il. 358. 
Simpson, his School of Shakesleare , 2 ; 
6 note ; on Faire Em, il. 4- 
Sisley qf the ll/highton, ]. 16,.6. 
Skeat, Dr., 295 ; ii. 335, 336, 349, 353, 
Smith, Mr. J. C., Preface, 298 , 302; 
ii. 354- 
Solinus, quoted, 284. 
Soone, Vfilliam, 4. 
Sophocles, quoted, ii. 361. 
Spenser, Edmund, at what age he 
matriculated, i2; on G. Harvey, 
37 note, 41 ; 56, 59 note, 62 ; influence 
on Greene, îo- ; 283, 289; ii. 222. 
Stafford, Simon, printer, I59. 
Statius, quoted, ii. 344- 
Steele, 22 note. 
Steevens, ii. I59- 
Storozhenko, Prof., his contrib ution to 
Greene's biography, 2; 2I, 23, 36 
note, 74 note; on the date of Orlando, 
Stowe, John, on Greene's burial-place, 
48 note. 
Strabo, 3o4, 309, 319 • 
Suetonius, quoted, 306. 
Swift, Jonathan, his Zast Speech and 
Z)ying ICords of 2Fb«nezer Elliston, 33. 

Tacitus, 306. 
Tancock, Rev. O. W., 4 note. 

Taylor, John, his testimony to Greene, 
60; ii. 366. 
Tennysou (Lord), 312; il. 366, 368. 
Terence, 358. 
Thackeray, William M., his 19end«n - 
nis, 5. 
Theocritus, 315- 
Thoms, William, 5 ; ii. 164. 
Tiecke, Ludovic, on the authenticily 
of the lYnner of IVaefield, ii. 160. 
Timannus, Albertus, 76. 
Topsell, Richard, quoted, 286 ; ii. 242 , 
342 . 
Toynbee, Dr. Paget, ii. 39o-1. 
Turberville, George, 4 . 
Tytler, W. F., ii. 8o note. 

Upchear, Henry 75 note. 

Venn, Caius College Admissions,  I. 
Virgil, 7 o, 29I , 316; ii. 349, 302. 

Wagner, Dr., 61 note; on Faustus, ii. 2 
Walker, Sidney, 286, 2çI, 3oo ; ii. 372. 
Vqard, Dr. A. W., 68 note; ii. I ; on 
the date ofFri, r Bacon, 2 ; on Faire 
ltm, 4 note: 5, 33, 333, 341- 
"Varner, William, 41. 
XVarton, Thomas, 287. 
Watson, Thomas, I6; his acquaint- 
ance with Greene, 23; his silence 
about Greene as a dramatist. 39 ; 4 I. 
White, Edward, publisher, ii. I. 
Whitgift, Archbishop, 14. 6, 5o. 
Winstanley, William, ii. 59" 
Wood, Anthony, his testimony to 
Greeue, 6o ; il. 5, 222.