CINNA. Then, both confirm'd by state and full consent, The rods and axe to Marius I present, And here invest thee with the consul's pall.

FLACCUS. Long, fortunate, and happy life betide Old Marius in his sevenfold consulship.

YOUNG MARIUS. And so let Marius live and govern Rome, As cursed Sylla never look on Rome.

MARIUS. Then plac'd in consul's throne, you Roman states, [He takes his seat. Recall'd from banishment by your decrees, Install'd in this imperial seat to rule, Old Marius thanks his friends and favourites, From whom this final favour he requires: That, seeing Sylla by his murderous blade Brought fierce seditions first to head in Rome, And forced laws to banish innocents, I crave by course of reason and desert, That he may be proclaimed, as erst was I, A traitor and an enemy of Rome. Let all his friends be banish'd out of town; Then, cutting off the branch where troubles spring, Rome shall have peace and plenty in her walls.

CINNA. In equity it needs must be, my friends, That one be guilty of our common harms: And since that Marius is accounted free, Sylla with all his friends must traitors be.

YOUNG MARIUS. My father's reasons, Romans, are of force; For if you see, and live not to secure, You know that, in so great a state as this, Two mighty foes can never well agree.

LEPIDUS. Then let us seek to please our consul first, And then prepare to keep the exile out. Cinna, as Marius and these lords agree, Firm this edict, and let it pass for me.

CINNA. Then, Romans, in the name of all this state, I here proclaim and publish this decree; That Sylla with his friends, allies, and all, Are banish'd exiles, traitors unto Rome: And to extinguish both his name and state, We will his house be razed to the ground, His goods confiscate: this our censure is. Lictor, proclaim this in the market-place, And see it executed out of hand. [Exit Lictor.

MARIUS. Now see I, senators, the thought, the care, The virtuous zeal that leads your toward minds To love your friends, and watch your common good: And now, establish'd consul in this place, Old Marius will foresee advenient harms. Sylla, the scourge of Asia, as we hear, Is press'd to enter Italy with sword. He comes in pomp to triumph here in Rome: But, senators, you know the wavering wills Of foolish men—I mean the common sort— Who, through report of innovations, Of flattering humours of well-temper'd tongues, Will change, and draw a second mischief on. I like your care, and will myself apply To aim and level at my country's weal. To intercept these errors by advice, My son young Marius, Cethegus, and my friends, Shall to Praeneste, to prevent and stop The speedy purpose of our forward foe. Meanwhile, ourselves will fortify this town, This beauty of the world, this maiden-town; Where streaming Tybris, with a pleasant tide, Leads out the stately buildings of the world. Marius, my hope, my son, you know your charge: Take those Iberian legions in your train, And we will spare some Cymbrians to your use. Remember thou art Marius' son, and dream On nought but honour and a happy death!

YOUNG MARIUS. I go, my lord, in hope to make the world Report my service and my duty too; And that proud challenger of Asia Shall find that Marius' son hath force and wit. [Exit cum CETHEGO.

MARIUS. Go, thou, as fortunate as Greeks to Troy; As glorious as Alcides in thy toils; As happy as Sertorius in thy fight; As valiant as Achilles in thy might: Go, glorious, valiant, happy, fortunate, As all those Greeks and him of Roman state!

Enter, led in with Soldiers, CORNELIA and FULVIA.

CORNELIA. Traitors! why drag you thus a prince's wife, As if that beauty were a thrall to fate? Are Romans grown more barbarous than Greeks, That hate more greater than Cassandra now? The Macedonian monarch was more kind, That honour'd and reliev'd in warlike camp Darius' mother, daughters, and his wife. But you unkind to Roman ladies now, Perhaps as constant as the ancient queens; For they, subdu'd, had friendship in disgrace, Where we, unconquer'd, live in woful case.

MARIUS. What plaintive pleas presents that lady there? Why, soldiers, make you prisoners here in Rome?

1ST SOLDIER. Dread consul, we have found Cornelia here And Sylla's daughter posting out of town.

MARIUS. Ladies of worth, both beautiful and wise, But near allied unto my greatest foe: Yet Marius' mind, that never meant disgrace, More likes their courage than their comely face. Are you Cornelia, madam, Sylla's wife?

CORNELIA. I am Cornelia, Sylla's wife; what then?

MARIUS. And is this Fulvia, Sylla's daughter, too?

FULVIA. And this is Fulvia, Sylla's daughter, too.

MARIUS. Two welcome guests, in whom the majesty Of my conceit and courage must consist. What think you, senators and countrymen? See, here are two, the fairest stars of Rome. The dearest dainties of my warlike foe, Whose lives upon your censures do subsist.[139]

LEPIDUS. Dread consul, the continuance of their lives Shall egg on Sylla to a greater haste; And, in bereaving of their vital breath, Your grace shall force more fury from your foe. Of these extremes we leave the choice to you.

MARIUS. Then think that some strange fortune shall ensue.

FULVIA. Poor Fulvia, now thy happy days are done! Instead of marriage pomp, the fatal lights Of funerals must masque about thy bed: Nor shall thy father's arms with kind embrace Hem in thy shoulders, trembling now for fear. I see in Marius' looks such tragedies, As fear my heart; and fountains fill mine eyes.

CORNELIA. Fie, Fulvia! shall thy father's daughter faint, Before the threats of danger shall approach? Dry up those tears, and like a Roman maid, Be bold and silent, till our foe have said.

MARIUS. Cornelia, wife unto my traitor-foe, What gadding mood hath forc'd thy speedy flight To leave thy country, and forsake thy friends?

CORNELIA. Accursed Marius, offspring of my pains, Whose furious wrath hath wrought thy country's woe, What may remain for me or mine in Rome, That see the tokens of thy tyrannies? Vile monster, robb'd of virtue, what revenge Is this, to wreak thine anger on the walls? To raze our house, to banish all our friends, To kill the rest, and captive us at last? Think'st thou by barbarous deeds to boast thy state, Or spoiling Sylla, to depress his hate? No, Marius, but for every drop of blood And inch of wrong he shall return thee two.

FLACCUS. Madam, in danger wisdom doth advise In humble terms to reconcile our foes.

MARIUS. She is a woman, Flaccus; let her talk, That breathes forth bitter words instead of blows.

CORNELIA. And in regard of that, immodest man, Thou shouldst desist from outrage and revenge.

LECTORIUS. What, can your grace endure these cursed scoffs?

MARIUS. Why, my Lectorius, I have ever learnt That ladies cannot wrong me with upbraids; Then let her talk, and my concealed hate Shall heap revengement upon Sylla's pate.

FULVIA. Let fevers first afflict thy feeble age; Let palsies make thy stubborn fingers faint; Let humours, streaming from thy moisten'd brains, With clouds of dimness choke thy fretful eyes, Before these monstrous harms assail my sire.

MARIUS. By'r lady,[140] Fulvia, you are gaily read: Your mother well may boast you for her own; For both of you have words and scoffs at will. And since I like the compass of your wit, Myself will stand, and, ladies, you shall sit. And, if you please to wade in farther words, Let's see what brawls your memories affords.

CORNELIA. Your lordship's passing mannerly in jest; But that you may perceive we smell your drift, We both will sit, and countenance your shift.

MARIUS. Where constancy and beauty do consort, There ladies' threatenings turn to merry sport. How fare these beautiful? what, well at ease?

FULVIA. As ready as at first for to displease; For, full confirm'd that we shall surely die, We wait our ends with Roman constancy.

MARIUS. Why, think you Marius hath confirm'd your death?

FULVIA. What other fruit may spring from tyrant's hands?

MARIUS. In faith then, ladies, thus the matter stands: Since you mistake my love and courtesy, Prepare yourselves, for you shall surely die.

CORNELIA. Ay, Marius, now I know thou dost not lie; And that thou mayst, unto thy lasting blame, Extinguish in our deaths thy wished fame, Grant us this boon that, making choice of death, We may be freed from fury of thine ire.

MARIUS. An easy boon; ladies, I condescend.

CORNELIA. Then suffer us in private chamber close To meditate a day or two alone; And, tyrant, if thou find us living then, Commit us straight unto thy slaughtering-men.

MARIUS. Ladies, I grant; for Marius nill deny A suit so easy and of such import; For pity 'twere that dames of constancy Should not be agents of their misery. [Here he whispers LECTORIUS. Lectorius, hark, despatch. [Exit LECTORIUS.

CORNELIA. So, Fulvia, now the latest doom is fix'd, And nought remains but constant Roman hearts To bear the brunt of irksome fury's spite. Rouse thee, my dear, and daunt those faint conceits, That trembling stand aghast at bitter death. Bethink thee now that Sylla was thy sire, Whose courage heaven nor fortune could abate: Then, like the offspring of fierce Sylla's house, Pass with the thrice-renowned Phrygian dame, As to thy marriage, so unto thy death: For nought to wretches is more sweet than death.

FULVIA. Madam, confirm'd as well to die as live, Fulvia awaiteth nothing but her death. Yet had my father known the course of change, Or seen our loss by lucky augury, This tyrant nor his followers had liv'd To 'joy the ruin of fierce Sylla's house.

MARIUS. But, lady, they that dwell on fortune's call No sooner rise, but subject are to fall.

FULVIA. Marius, I doubt not but our constant ends Shall make thee wail thy tyrant's government.

MARIUS. When tyrant's rule doth breed my care and woe, Then will I say two ladies told me so. But here comes Lectorius. Now, my lord. Have you brought those things?

Enter LECTORIUS.

LECTORIUS. I have, noble consul.

MARIUS. Now, ladies, you are resolute to die?

CORNELIA. Ay, Marius, for terror cannot daunt us. Tortures were framed to dread the baser eye, And not t'appal a princely majesty.

MARIUS. And Marius lives to triumph o'er his foes, That train their warlike troops amidst the plains, And are enclos'd and hemm'd with shining arms, Not to appal such princely majesty. Virtue, sweet ladies, is of more regard In Marius' mind, where honour is enthron'd, Than Rome or rule of Roman empery. [Here he puts chains about their necks. The bands, that should combine your snow-white wrists, Are these which shall adorn your milk-white necks. The private cells, where you shall end your lives, Is Italy, is Europe—nay the world. Th'Euxinian Sea, the fierce Sicilian Gulf, The river Ganges and Hydaspes' stream Shall level lie, and smooth as crystal ice, While Fulvia and Cornelia pass thereon. The soldiers, that should guard you to your deaths, Shall be five thousand gallant youths of Rome, In purple robes cross-barr'd with pales of gold, Mounted on warlike coursers for the field, Fet[141] from the mountain-tops of Corsica, Or bred in hills of bright Sardinia, Who shall conduct and bring you to your lord. Ay, unto Sylla, ladies, shall you go, And tell him Marius holds within his hands Honour for ladies, for ladies rich reward; But as for Sylla and for his compeers, Who dare 'gainst Marius vaunt their golden crests, Tell him for them old Marius holds revenge, And in his hands both triumphs life and death.

CORNELIA. Doth Marius use with glorious words to jest, And mock his captives with these glosing[142] terms?

MARIUS. No, ladies; Marius hath sought for honour with his sword, And holds disdain to triumph in your falls. Live, Cornelia: live, fair and fairest Fulvia! If you have done or wrought me injury, Sylla shall pay it through his misery.

FULVIA. So gracious, famous consul, are thy words, That Rome and we shall celebrate thy worth, And Sylla shall confess himself o'ercome.

CORNELIA. If ladies' prayers or tears may move the heavens, Sylla shall vow himself old Marius' friend.

MARIUS. Ladies, for that I nought at all regard: Sylla's my foe, I'll triumph over him; For other conquest glory doth not win. Therefore come on, That I may send you unto Sylla.

[Exeunt.

Enter a CLOWN, drunk, with a pint of wine in his hand, and two or three SOLDIERS.

1ST SOLDIER. Sirrah, dally not with us; you know where he is.

CLOWN. O, sir, a quart is a quart in any man's purse, and drink is drink, and can my master live without his drink, I pray you?

2D SOLDIER. You have a master then, sirrah?

CLOWN. Have I a master, thou scoundrel? I have an orator to my master, a wise man to my master. But, fellows, I must make a parenthesis of this pint-pot, for words make men dry: now, by my troth, I drink to Lord Anthony.

3D SOLDIER. Fellow-soldiers, the weakness of his brain hath made his tongue walk largely; we shall have some novelties by-and-by.

CLOWN. O most surpassing wine, Thou marrow of the vine! More welcome unto me Than whips to scholars be. Thou art, and ever was, A means to mend an ass; Thou makest some to sleep, And many mo to weep, And some be glad and merry, With heigh down derry, derry. Thou makest some to stumble, And many mo to fumble, And me have pinky neyne.[143] More brave and jolly wine! What need I praise thee mo, For thou art good, with heigh-ho!

3D SOLDIER. If wine then be so good, I prithee, for thy part, Tell us where Lord Anthony is, and thou shalt have a quart.

CLOWN. First shall the snow be black, And pepper lose his smack, And stripes forsake my back: First merry drunk with sack, I will go boast and track, And all your costards crack, Before I do the knack Shall make me sing alack. Alack, the old man is weary, For wine hath made him merry. With a heigh-ho.

1ST SOLDIER. I prythee leave these rhymes, and tell us where thy master is?

CLOWN. Faith, where you shall not be, Unless ye go with me. But shall I tell them so? O, no, sir, no, no, no. The man hath many a foe, As far as I do know: You do not flout me, I hope. See how this liquor fumes, And how my force presumes. You would know where Lord Anthony is? I perceive you. Shall I say he is in yond farmhouse? I deceive you. Shall I tell you this wine is for him? The gods forfend, And so I end. Go, fellow-fighters, there's a bob for ye.

2D SOLDIER. My masters, let us follow this clown, for questionless this grave orator is in yonder farmhouse[144]. But who cometh yonder?

Enter OLD ANTHONY.

ANTHONY. I wonder why my peasant stays so long, And with my wonder hasteth on my woe, And with my woe I am assailed with fear, And with my fear await with faintful breath The final period of my pains by death.

1ST SOLDIER. Yond's the man we seek for, soldiers. Unsheathe your swords, and make a riddance of Marius' ancient enemy.

CLOWN. Master, fly, fly, Or else you shall die! A plague on this wine, Hath made me so fine! And will you not be gone? Then I'll leave you alone, And sleep upon your woe, With a lamentable heigh-ho. [Exit.

ANTHONY. Betrayed at last by witless oversight! Now, Anthony, prepare thyself to die. Lo, where the monstrous ministers of wrath Menace thy murder with their naked swords.

2D SOLDIER. Anthony, well-met: the consul Marius, with other confederate senators, have adjudged thee death, therefore prepare thyself, and think we favour thee in this little protraction.

ANTHONY. Immortal powers, that know the painful cares That wait upon my poor distressed heart, O, bend your brows, and level all your looks Of dreadful awe upon these daring men! And thou, sweet niece of Atlas, on whose lips And tender tongue the pliant muses sit, Let gentle course of sweet aspiring speech, Let honey-flowing terms of weary woe, Let fruitful figures and delightful lines Enforce a spring of pity from their eyes, Amaze the murd'rous passions of their minds, That they may favour woful Anthony. O countrymen, what shall become of Rome, When reverend duty droopeth through disgrace? O countrymen, what shall become of Rome, When woful nature, widow of her joys, Weeps on our walls to see her laws depress'd? O Romans, hath not Anthony's discourse Seal'd up the mouths of false seditious men, Assoil'd[145] the doubts and quaint controls of power, Relieved the mournful matron with his pleas? And will you seek to murder Anthony? The lions brook with kindness their relief; The sheep reward the shepherd with their fleece; Yet Romans seek to murder Anthony.

1ST SOLDIER. Why, what enchanting terms of art are these, That force my heart to pity his distress?

2D SOLDIER. His action, speech, his favour and his grace, My rancour rage and rigour doth deface.

3D SOLDIER. So sweet his words, that now of late, meseems, His art doth draw my soul from out my lips.

ANTHONY. What envious eyes, reflecting nought but rage, What barbarous heart, refresh'd with nought but blood, That rends not to behold the senseless trees In doly[146] season drooping without leaves? The shepherd sighs upon the barren hills, To see his bleating lambs with faintful looks Behold the valleys robb'd of springing flowers, That whilom wont to yield them yearly food. Even meanest things, exchang'd from former state, The virtuous mind with some remorse doth mate. Can then your eyes with thundering threats of rage Cast furious gleams of anger upon age? Can then your hearts with furies mount so high, As they should harm the Roman Anthony? I, far more kind than senseless tree, have lent A kindly sap to our declining state, And like a careful shepherd have foreseen The heavy dangers of this city Rome; And made the citizens the happy flock, Whom I have fed with counsels and advice: But now those locks that, for their reverend white, Surpass the down on Aesculapius' chin: But now that tongue, whose terms and fluent style For number pass'd the hosts of heavenly fires: But now that head, within whose subtle brains The queen of flowing eloquence did dwell—

Enter a CAPTAIN.

These locks, this tongue, this head, this life, and all, To please a tyrant, trait'rously must fall.

CAPTAIN. Why, how now, soldiers, is he living yet? And will you be bewitched with his words? Then take this fee, false orator, from me: [Stabs him. Elysium best beseems thy faintful limbs.

ANTHONY. O blissful pains! now Anthony must die, Which serv'd and lov'd Rome and her empery. [_Moritur[147].

CAPTAIN. Go, curtal off that neck with present stroke, And straight present it unto Marius.

1ST SOLDIER. Even in this head did all the muses dwell: The bees, that sat upon the Grecian's lips, Distill'd their honey on his temper'd tongue.

2D SOLDIER. The crystal dew of fair Castalian springs With gentle floatings trickled on his brains: The graces kissed his kind and courteous brows, Apollo gave the beauties of his harp,

Enter LECTORIUS pensive.

And melodies unto his pliant speech.

CAPTAIN. Leave these presumptuous praises, countrymen: And see Lectorius, pensive where he comes. Lo, here, my lord, the head of Anthony; See here the guerdon fit for Marius' foe, Whom dread Apollo prosper in his rule.

LECTORIUS. O Romans, Marius sleeps among the dead, And Rome laments the loss of such a friend.

CAPTAIN. A sudden and a woful chance, my lord, Which we intentive[148] fain would understand.

LECTORIUS. Though swoll'n with sighs, my heart for sorrow burst, And tongue with tears and plaints be choked up, Yet will I furrow forth with forced breath A speedy passage to my pensive speech. Our consul Marius, worthy soldiers, Of late within a pleasant plot of ground Sat down for pleasure near a crystal spring, Accompanied with many lords of Rome. Bright was the day, and on the spreading trees The frolic citizens[149] of forest sung Their lays and merry notes on perching boughs; When suddenly appeared in the east Seven mighty eagles with their talons fierce, Who, waving oft about our consul's head, At last with hideous cry did soar away. When suddenly old Marius aghast, With reverend smile, determin'd with a sigh The doubtful silence of the standers-by. Romans, said he, old Marius now must die: These seven fair eagles, birds of mighty Jove, That at my birthday on my cradle sat, Now at my last day warn[150] me to my death, And lo, I feel the deadly pangs approach. What should I more? In brief, with many prayers For Rome, his son—his goods and lands dispos'd— Our worthy consul to our wonder died. The city is amaz'd, for Sylla hastes To enter Rome with fury, sword and fire. Go place that head upon the capitol, And to your wards, for dangers are at hand. [Exit.

CAPTAIN. Had we foreseen this luckless chance before, Old Anthony had liv'd and breathed yet.

[Exeunt.



ACTUS QUINTUS.

A great skirmish in Rome and long, some slain. At last enter SYLLA triumphant, with POMPEY, METELLUS, Citizens, Soldiers.

SYLLA. Now, Romans, after all these mutinies, Seditions, murders and conspiracies, Imagine with impartial hearts at last, What fruits proceed from these contentious brawls. Your streets, where erst the fathers of your state In robes of purple walked up and down, Are strewed with mangled members, streaming blood: And why? the reasons of this ruthful wrack Are your seditious innovations, Your fickle minds inclin'd to foolish change. Ungrateful men! whilst I with tedious pain In Asia seal'd my duty with my blood, Making the fierce Dardanians faint for fear, Spreading my colours in Galatia, Dipping my sword in the Enetans' blood, And foraging the fields of Phocida, You called my foe from exile with his friends; You did proclaim me traitor here in Rome; You raz'd my house, you did defame my friends. But, brawling wolves, you cannot bite the moon, For Sylla lives, so forward to revenge, As woe to those that sought to do me wrong. I now am entered Rome in spite of force, And will so hamper all my cursed foes. As be he tribune, consul, lord, or knight, That hateth Sylla, let him look to die. And first to make an entrance to mine ire, Bring me that traitor Carbo out of hand.

POMPEY. O Sylla, in revenging injuries, Inflict the pain where first offence did spring, And for my sake establish peace in Rome, And pardon these repentant citizens.

SYLLA. Pompey, I love thee, Pompey, and consent To thy request; but, Romans, have regard, Lest over-reaching in offence again, I load your shoulders with a double pain.

[_Exeunt citizens.

Bring in_ CARBO _bound_.

But, Pompey, see where jolly Carbo comes, Footing it featly like a mighty man. What, no obeisance, sirrah, to your lord?

CARBO[151]. My lord? No, Sylla: he that thrice hath borne The name of consul scorns to stoop to him, Whose heart doth hammer nought but mutinies.

POMPEY. And doth your lordship then disdain to stoop?

CARBO. Ay, to mine equal, Pompey, as thou art.

SYLLA. Thine equal, villain? no, he is my friend; Thou, but a poor anatomy of bones, Cas'd in a knavish tawny withered skin. Wilt thou not stoop? art thou so stately then?

CARBO. Sylla, I honour gods, not foolish men.

SYLLA. Then break that wither'd bough, that will not bend[152], And, soldiers, cast him down before my feet: [They throw him down. Now, prating sir, my foot upon thy neck, I'll be so bold to give your lordship check. Believe me, soldiers, but I over-reach; Old Carbo's neck at first was made to stretch.

CARBO. Though body bend, thou tyrant most unkind, Yet never shalt thou humble Carbo's mind.

SYLLA. O sir, I know, for all your warlike pith A man may mar your worship with a with.[153] You, sirrah, levied arms to do me wrong; You brought your legions to the gates of Rome; You fought it out in hope that I would faint; But, sirrah, now betake you to your books, Entreat the gods to save your sinful soul: For why this carcase must in my behalf Go feast the ravens that serve our augurs' turn. Methinks I see already, how they wish To bait their beaks in such a jolly dish.

CARBO. Sylla, thy threats and scoffs amate me not. I prythee, let thy murderers hale me hence; For Carbo rather likes to die by sword, Than live to be a mocking-stock to thee.

SYLLA. The man hath haste; good soldiers, take him hence: It would be good to alter his pretence. But be advis'd that, when the fool is slain, You part the head and body both in twain. I know that Carbo longs to know the cause, And shall: thy body for the ravens[154], thy head for daws.

CARBO. O matchless ruler of our capitol, Behold poor Rome with grave and piteous eye Fulfilled with wrong and wretched tyranny! [_Exit_ CARBO _cum militibus.

Enter_ SCIPIO, NORBANUS, _and_ CARINNA.[155]

SYLLA. Tut, the proud man's prayer will never pierce the sky. But whither press these mincing senators?

NORBANUS. We press with prayers, we come with mournful tears, Entreating Sylla by those holy bands, That link fair Juno with her thundering Jove, Even by the bonds of hospitality, To pity Rome afflicted through thy wrath. Thy soldiers (Sylla) murder innocents: O, whither will thy lawless fury stretch, If little ruth ensue thy country's harms?

SYLLA. Gay words, Norbanus, full of eloquence, Accompanied with action and conceit: But I must teach thee judgment therewithal Dar'st thou approach my presence, that hast borne Thine arms in spite of Sylla and his friends? I tell thee, foolish man, thy judgment wanted In this presumptuous purpose that is pass'd: And, loitering scholar, since you fail in art, I'll learn you judgment shortly to your smart. Despatch him, soldiers; I must see him die. And you, Carinna, Carbo's ancient friend, Shall follow straight your headless[156] general. And, Scipio, were it not I lov'd thee well, Thou should'st accompany these slaves to hell: But get you gone, and if you love yourself.

[Exit SCIPIO.

CARINNA. Pardon me, Sylla! pardon, gentle Sylla!

SYLLA. Sirrah, this gentle name was coin'd too late, And shadow'd in the shrouds of biting hate. Despatch! [Kill him.] why so; good fortune to my friends— As for my foes, even such shall be their ends. Convey them hence. Metellus, gentle Metellus, Fetch me Sertorius from Iberia: In doing so thou standest me in stead, For sore I long to see the traitor's head.

METELLUS. I go, confirm'd to conquer him by sword, Or in th'exploit to hazard life and all. [Exit.

SYLLA. Now, Pompey, let me see: those senators Are dangerous stops of our pretended[157] state, And must be curtail'd, lest they grow too proud. I do proscribe just forty senators, Which shall be leaders in my tragedy. And for our gentlemen are over-proud, Of them a thousand and six hundred die; A goodly army, meet to conquer hell. Soldiers, perform the course of my decree. Their friends my foes, their foes shall be my friends. Go sell their goods by trumpet at your wills: Meanwhile Pompey shall see, and Rome shall rue, The miseries that shortly shall ensue. [Exeunt.

Alarum, skirmish, a retreat. Enter YOUNG MARIUS upon the walls of PRAENESTE with some Soldiers, all in black and wonderful melancholy.

YOUNG MARIUS. O endless course of needy man's avail! What silly thoughts, what simple policies, Make man presume upon this traitorous life! Have I not seen the depth of sorrow once, And then again have kiss'd the queen of chance. O Marius, thou, Tillitius, and thy friends, Hast seen thy foe discomfited in fight: But now the stars have form'd my final harms. My father Marius lately dead in Rome; My foe with honour doth triumph in Rome, My friends are dead and banished from Rome. Ay, Marius, father, friends, more blest than thee! They dead, I live; I thralled, they are free. Here in Praeneste am I cooped up, Amongst a troop of hunger-starved men, Set to prevent false Sylla's fierce approach, But now exempted both of life and all. Well, fortune, since thy fleeting change hath cast Poor Marius from his hopes and true desires, My resolution shall exceed thy power. Thy colour'd wings steeped in purple blood, Thy blinding wreath distain'd in purple blood, Thy royal robes wash'd in my purple blood, Shall witness to the world thy thirst of blood; And when the tyrant Sylla shall expect To see the son of Marius stoop to fear, Then, then, O, then, my mind shall well appear, That scorn my life, and hold mine honour dear.

[Alarum. A retreat.

Hark how these murderous Romans, viper-like, Seek to bewray their fellow-citizens. O wretched world, from whence with speedy flight True love, true zeal, true honour late is fled!

SOLDIER. What makes my lord so careless and secure, To leave the breach and here lament alone?

YOUNG MARIUS. Not fear, my friend, for I could never fly; But study how with honour for to die. I pray thee, call the chiefest citizens; I must advise them in a weighty cause: Here shall they meet me; and, until they come, I will go view the danger of the breach.

[Exit YOUNG MARIUS, with the Soldiers.

Enter, with drums and Soldiers, LUCRETIUS, with other Romans, as TUDITANUS, &c.

LUCRETIUS. Say, Tuditanus, didst thou ever see So desperate defence as this hath been.

TUDITANUS. As in Numidia, tigers wanting food, Or, as in Lybia, lions full of ire, So fare these Romans on Praeneste walls.

LUCRETIUS. Their valour, Tuditanus, and resist, The man-like fight of younger Marius, Makes me amaz'd to see their miseries, And pity them, although they be my foes. What said I? Foes? O Rome, with ruth I see Thy state consum'd through folly and dissension! Well, sound a parley; I will see if words

[Sound a parley—YOUNG MARIUS appears upon the walls with the Citizens.

Can make them yield, which will not fly for strokes.

YOUNG MARIUS. What seeks this Roman warrior at our hands?

LUCRETIUS. That seeks he, Marius, that he wisheth thee: An humble heart and then a happy peace. Thou see'st thy fortunes are depress'd and down; Thy victuals spent; thy soldiers weak with want; The breach laid open, ready to assault: Now, since thy means and maintenance are done, Yield, Marius, yield. Praenestians, be advis'd; Lucretius is advis'd to favour you. I pray thee, Marius, mark my last advice: Relent in time; let Sylla be thy friend; So thou in Rome may'st lead a happy life, And those with thee shall pray for Marius still.

YOUNG MARIUS. Lucretius, I consider on thy words: Stay there awhile; thou shalt have answer straight.

LUCRETIUS. Apollo grant that my persuasions may Preserve these Roman soldiers from the sword.

YOUNG MARIUS. My friends and citizens of Praeneste town, You see the wayward working of our stars; Our hearts confirm'd to fight, our victuals spent. If we submit, it's Sylla must remit; A tyrant, traitor, enemy to Rome, Whose heart is guarded still with bloody thoughts. These flattering vows Lucretius here avows, Are pleasing words to colour poison'd thoughts. What, will you live with shame, or die with fame?

1ST CITIZEN. A famous death, my lord, delights us most.

2D CITIZEN. We of thy faction, Marius, are resolv'd To follow thee in life and death together.

YOUNG MARIUS. Words full of worth, beseeming noble minds: The very balsamum to mend my woes. O countrymen! you see Campania spoil'd; A tyrant threat'ning mutinies in Rome; A world despoil'd of virtue, faith, and trust. If then, no peace, no liberty, no faith, Conclude with me, and let it be no life! Live not to see your tender infants slain; These stately towers made level with the land; This body mangled by our enemy's sword: But full resolv'd to do as Marius doth, Unsheathe your poniards, and let every friend Bethink him of a soldier-like farewell. Sirrah, display my standard on the walls, And I will answer yond Lucretius: Who loveth Marius, now must die with Marius!

LUCRETIUS. What answer will your lordship then return us?

YOUNG MARIUS. Lucretius, we that know what Sylla is— How dissolute, how trothless and corrupt, In brief conclude to die, before we yield: But so to die—Lucretius, mark me well— As loth to see the fury of our swords Should murther friends and Roman citizens. Fie, countrymen! what fury doth infect Your warlike bosoms, that were wont to fight With foreign foes, not with Campanian friends. Now unadvised youth must counsel eld; For governance is banish'd out of Rome. Woe to that bough, from whence these blooms are sprung! Woe to that Aetna, vomiting this fire! Woe to that brand, consuming country's weal! Woe to that Sylla, careless and secure, That gapes with murder for a monarchy! Go, second Brutus, with a Roman mind, And kill that tyrant. And for Marius' sake, Pity the guiltless wives of these your friends. Preserve their weeping infants from the sword, Whose fathers seal their honours with their bloods. Farewell, Lucretius: first I press in place [Stab. To let thee see a constant Roman die. Praenestians, lo, a wound, a fatal wound! The pain but small, the glory passing great! Praenestians, see a second stroke! why so; [Again. I feel the dreeping dimness of the night, Closing the coverts of my careful eyes. Follow me, friends; for Marius now must die With fame, in spite of Sylla's tyranny.[158] [Moritur.

1ST CITIZEN. We follow thee our chieftain even in death. Our town is thine, Lucretius; but we pray For mercy for our children and our wives. [Moritur.

2D CITIZEN. O, save my son, Lucretius; let him live. [Moritur.

LUCRETIUS. A wondrous and bewitched constancy, Beseeming Marius' pride and haughty mind. Come, let us charge the breach; the town is ours. Both male and female, put them to the sword: So please you, Sylla, and fulfil his word.

[Exeunt.

A little skirmish. A retreat. Enter in royally LUCRETIUS.

LUCRETIUS. Now, Romans, we have brought Praeneste low, And Marius sleeps amidst the dead at last: So then to Rome, my countrymen, with joy, Where Sylla waits the tidings of our fight. Those prisoners that are taken, see forthwith With warlike javelins you put them to death. Come, let us march! See Rome in sight, my hearts, Where Sylla waits the tidings of our war.

Enter SYLLA, VALERIUS FLACCUS, LEPIDUS, POMPEY, Citizens' Guard: SYLLA, seated in his robes of state, is saluted by the Citizens, &c.

FLACCUS. Romans, you know, and to your griefs have seen A world of troubles hatched here at home, Which through prevention being well-nigh cross'd By worthy Sylla and his warlike band, I, consul, with these fathers think it meet To fortify our peace and city's weal, To name some man of worth that may supply Dictator's power and place; whose majesty Shall cross the courage of rebellious minds. What think you, Romans, will you condescend?

SYLLA. Nay, Flaccus, for their profits they must yield; For men of mean condition and conceit Must humble their opinions to their lords. And if my friends and citizens consent, Since I am born to manage mighty things, I will, though loth, both rule and govern them. I speak not this, as though I wish to reign, But for to know my friends: and yet again I merit, Romans, far more grace than this.

FLACCUS. Ay, countrymen, if Sylla's power and mind, If Sylla's virtue, courage, and device, If Sylla's friends and fortunes merit fame, None then but he should bear dictator's name.

POMPEY. What think you, citizens, why stand ye mute? Shall Sylla be dictator here in Rome?

CITIZENS. By full consent Sylla shall be dictator.

FLACCUS. Then in the name of Rome I here present The rods and axes into Sylla's hand; And fortunate prove Sylla, our dictator.

[Trumpets sound: cry within, SYLLA Dictator.

SYLLA. My fortunes, Flaccus, cannot be impeach'd. For at my birth the planets passing kind Could entertain no retrograde aspects: And that I may with kindness 'quite their love, My countrymen, I will prevent the cause 'Gainst all the false encounters of mishap. You name me your dictator, but prefix No time, no course, but give me leave to rule And yet exempt me not from your revenge. Thus by your pleasures being set aloft, Straight by your furies I should quickly fall. No, citizens, who readeth Sylla's mind, Must form my titles in another kind: Either let Sylla be dictator ever, Or flatter Sylla with these titles never.

CITIZENS. Perpetual be thy glory and renown: Perpetual lord dictator shalt thou be.

POMPEY. Hereto the senate frankly doth agree.

SYLLA. Then so shall Sylla reign, you senators. Then so shall Sylla rule, you citizens, As senators and citizens that please me Shall be my friends; the rest cannot disease me.

Enter LUCRETIUS, with Soldiers.

But see, whereas Lucretius is return'd! Welcome, brave Roman: where is Marius? Are these Praenestians put unto the sword?

LUCRETIUS. The city, noble Sylla, razed is, And Marius dead—not by our swords, my lord, But with more constancy than Cato died.

SYLLA. What, constancy! and but a very boy? Why then I see he was his father's son. But let us have this constancy described.

LUCRETIUS. After our fierce assaults and their resist, Our siege, their sallying out to stop our trench, Labour and hunger reigning in the town, The younger Marius on the city's wall Vouchsaf'd an inter-parley at the last; Wherein with constancy and courage too He boldly arm'd his friends, himself, to death; And, spreading of his colours on the wall, For answer said he could not brook to yield, Or trust a tyrant such as Sylla was.

SYLLA. What, did the brainsick boy upbraid me so? But let us hear the rest, Lucretius.

LUCRETIUS. And, after great persuasions to his friends And worthy resolution of them all, He first did sheathe his poniard in his breast, And so in order died all the rest.

SYLLA. Now, by my sword, this was a worthy jest.[159] Yet, silly boy, I needs must pity thee, Whose noble mind could never mated be. Believe me, countrymen, a sudden thought, A sudden change in Sylla now hath wrought. Old Marius and his son were men of name, Nor fortune's laughs nor low'rs their minds could tame, And when I count their fortunes that are past, I see that death confirm'd their fames at last. Then he that strives to manage mighty things, Amidst his triumphs gains a troubled mind. The greatest hope, the greatest harm it brings, And poor men in content their glory find. If then content be such a pleasant thing, Why leave I country life to live a king? Yet kings are gods, and make the proudest stoop; Yea, but themselves are still pursued with hate: And men were made to mount and then to droop. Such chances wait upon uncertain fate. That where she kisseth once, she quelleth twice; Then whoso lives content is happy, wise. What motion moveth this philosophy? O Sylla, see the ocean ebbs and flows;[160] The spring-time wanes, when winter draweth nigh: Ay, these are true and most assured notes. Inconstant chance such tickle turns has lent. As whoso fears no fall, must seek content.

FLACCUS. Whilst graver thoughts of honour should allure thee, What maketh Sylla muse and mutter thus?

SYLLA. I, that have pass'd amidst the mighty troops Of armed legions, through a world of war, Do now bethink me, Flaccus, of my chance: How I alone, where many men were slain, In spite of fate am come to Rome again. And though[161] I wield the reverend stiles of state; She[162], Sylla, with a beck could break thy neck. What lord of Rome hath dar'd as much as I? Yet, Flaccus, know'st thou not that I must die? The labouring sisters on the weary looms Have drawn my web of life at length, I know; And men of wit must think upon their tombs: For beasts with careless steps to Lethe go Where men, whose thoughts and honours climb on high, Living with fame, must learn with fame to die.

POMPEY. What lets, my lord, in governing this state, To live in rest, and die with honour too?

SYLLA. What lets me, Pompey? why, my courteous friend, Can he remain secure that wields a charge, Or think of wit when flatterers do commend, Or be advis'd that careless runs at large? No, Pompey: honey words make foolish minds, And pow'r the greatest wit with error blinds. Flaccus, I murder'd Anthony, thy friend; Romans, some here have lost at my command Their fathers, mothers, brothers, and allies; And think you, Sylla, thinking these misdeeds, Bethinks not on your grudges and mislike? Yes, countrymen, I bear them still in mind: Then, Pompey, were I not a silly man To leave my rule, and trust these Romans then?

POMPEY. Your grace hath small occasions of mistrust, Nor seek these citizens for your disclaim.

SYLLA. But, Pompey, now these reaching plumes of pride, That mounted up my fortunes to the clouds, By grave conceits shall straight be laid aside, And Sylla thinks of far more simple shrouds. For having tried occasion in the throne, I'll see if she dare frown, when state is gone. Lo, senators, the man that sat aloft, Now deigns to give inferiors highest place. Lo, here the man whom Rome repined oft, A private man content to brook disgrace. Romans, lo, here the axes, rods, and all: I'll master fortune, lest she make me thrall. Now whoso list accuse me, tell my wrongs, Upbraid me in the presence of this state. Is none these jolly citizens among, That will accuse, or say I am ingrate? Then will I say, and boldly boast my chances, That nought may force the man whom fate advances.

FLACCUS. What meaneth Sylla in this sullen mood, To leave his titles on the sudden thus?

SYLLA. Consul, I mean with calm and quiet mind To pass my days, till[163] happy death I find.

POMPEY. What greater wrong than leave thy country so?

SYLLA. Both it and life must Sylla leave in time.

CITIZEN. Yet during life have care of Rome and us.

SYLLA. O wanton world, that flatter'st in thy prime, And breathest balm and poison mixed in one! See how these wavering Romans wish'd my reign, That whilom fought and sought to have me slain. [Aside.] My countrymen, this city wants no store Of fathers, warriors, to supply my room; So grant me peace, and I will die for Rome.

Enter two Burglars to them, POPPEY and CURTALL.

CURTALL. These are very indiscreet counsels, neighbour Poppey, and I will follow your misadvisement.

POPPEY. I tell you, goodman Curtall, the wench hath wrong. O vain world, O foolish men! Could a man in nature cast a wench down, and disdain in nature to lift her up again? Could he take away her dishonesty without bouncing up the banns of matrimony? O learned poet, well didst thou write fustian verse.

These maids are daws That go to the laws, And a babe in the belly.

CURTALL. Tut, man, 'tis the way the world must follow, for

Maids must be kind, Good husbands to find.

POPPEY. But mark the fierse[164],

If they swell before, It will grieve them sore.

But see, yond's Master Sylla: faith, a pretty fellow is a.

SYLLA. What seek my countrymen? what would my friends?

CURTALL. Nay, sir, your kind words shall not serve the turn: why, think you to thrust your soldiers into our kindred with your courtesies, sir?

POPPEY. I tell you, Master Sylla, my neighbour will have the law: he had the right, he will have the wrong; for therein dwells the law.

CONSUL. What desire these men of Rome?

CURTALL. Neighbour, sharpen the edge-tool of your wits upon the whetstone of indiscretion, that your words may shine like the razors of Palermo[165]: [to POPPEY] you have learning with ignorance, therefore speak my tale.

POPPEY. Then, worshipful Master Sylla, be it known unto you, That my neighbour's daughter Dority Was a maid of restority; Fair, fresh, and fine As a merry cup of wine; Her eyes like two potch'd eggs, Great and goodly her legs; But mark my doleful ditty, Alas! for woe and pity! A soldier of your's Upon a bed of flowers Gave her such a fall, As she lost maidenhead and all. And thus in very good time I end my rudeful rhyme.

SYLLA. And what of this, my friend? why seek you me, Who have resign'd my titles and my state, To live a private life, as you do now? Go move the Consul Flaccus in this cause, Who now hath power to execute the laws.

CURTALL. And are you no more master dixcator, nor generality of the soldiers?

SYLLA. My powers do cease, my titles are resign'd.

CURTALL. Have you signed your titles? O base mind, that being in the Paul's steeple of honour, hast cast thyself into the sink of simplicity. Fie, beast! Were I a king, I would day by day Suck up white bread and milk, And go a-jetting in a jacket of silk; My meat should be the curds, My drink should be the whey, And I would have a mincing lass to love me every day.

POPPEY. Nay, goodman Curtall, your discretions are very simple; let me cramp him with a reason. Sirrah, whether is better good ale or small-beer? Alas! see his simplicity that cannot answer me: why, I say ale.

CURTALL. And so say I, neighbour.

POPPEY. Thou hast reason; ergo, say I, 'tis better be a king than a clown. Faith, Master Sylla, I hope a man may now call ye knave by authority.

SYLLA. With what impatience hear I these upbraids, That whilom plagued the least offence with death. O Sylla, these are stales of destiny By some upbraids to try thy constancy. My friends, these scorns of yours perhaps may move The next dictator shun to yield his state, For fear he find as much as Sylla doth. But, Flaccus, to prevent their farther wrong, Vouchsafe some lictor may attach the man, And do them right that thus complain abuse.

FLACCUS. Sirrah, go you and bring the soldier, That hath so loosely lean'd to lawless lust: We will have means sufficient, be assured, To cool his heat, and make the wanton chaste.

CURTALL. We thank your mastership. Come, neighbour, let us jog. Faith, this news will set my daughter Dorothy agog.

[Exeunt cum Lictore.

SYLLA. Grave senators and Romans, now you see The humble bent of Sylla's changed mind. Now will I leave you, lords, from courtly train To dwell content amidst my country cave, Where no ambitious humours shall approach The quiet silence of my happy sleep: Where no delicious jouissance or toys Shall tickle with delight my temper'd ears; But wearying out the lingering day with toil, Tiring my veins, and furrowing of my soul, The silent night, with slumber stealing on, Shall lock these careful closets of mine eyes. O, had I known the height of happiness, Or bent mine eyes upon my mother-earth, Long since, O Rome, had Sylla with rejoice Forsaken arms to lead a private life!

FLACCUS. But in this humbleness of mind, my lord, Whereas experience prov'd and art do meet, How happy were these fair Italian fields, If they were graced with so sweet a sun. Then I for Rome, and Rome with me, requires That Sylla will abide, and govern Rome.

SYLLA. O Flaccus, if th'Arabian phoenix strive By nature's warning to renew her kind, When, soaring nigh the glorious eye of heaven, She from her cinders doth revive her sex, Why should not Sylla learn by her to die, That erst have been the Phoenix of this land? And drawing near the sunshine of content, Perish obscure to make your glories grow. For as the higher trees do shield the shrubs From posting Phlegon's[166] warmth and breathing fire, So mighty men obscure each other's fame, And make the best deservers fortune's game.

Enter GENIUS.

But ah, what sudden furies do affright? What apparitious fantasies are these? O, let me rest, sweet lords, for why methinks Some fatal spells are sounded in mine ears.

GENIUS. Subsequitur tua mors: privari lumine Syllam, Numina Parcarum jam fera precipiunt Precipiunt fera jam Parcarum numina Syllam Lumine privari: mors tua subsequitur. Elysium petis, o faelix! et fatidici astri Praescius: Heroes, o, petis innumeros! Innumeros petis, o, Heroes, praescius astri Fatidici: et faelix, o, petis Elysium! [Evanescit subito.

SYLLA. Ergo-ne post dulces annos properantia fata? Ergo-ne jam tenebrae praemia lucis erunt? Attamen, ut vitae fortunam gloria mortis Vincat, in extremo funere cantet olor.

POMPEY. How fares my lord? what dreadful thoughts are these? What doubtful answers on a sudden thus?

SYLLA. Pompey, the man that made the world to stoop, And fetter'd fortune in the chains of power, Must droop and draw the chariot of fate Along the darksome banks of Acheron. The heavens have warn'd me of my present fall. O, call Cornelia forth: let Sylla see His daughter Fulvia, ere his eyes be shut.

[Exit one for CORNELIA.

FLACCUS. Why, Sylla, where is now thy wonted hope In greatest hazard of unstayed chance. What, shall a little biting blast of pain Blemish the blossoms of thy wonted pride?

SYLLA. My Flaccus, worldly joys and pleasures fade; Inconstant time, like to the fleeting tide, With endless course man's hopes doth overbear: Nought now remains that Sylla fain would have, But lasting fame, when body lies in grave.

Enter CORNELIA, FULVIA.

CORNELIA. How fares my lord? How doth my gentle Sylla.

SYLLA. Ah, my Cornelia! passing happy now: Free from the world, allied unto the heavens: Not curious of incertain chances now.

CORNELIA. Words full of woe, still adding to my grief, A cureless cross of many hundred harms. O, let not Rome and poor Cornelia lose, The one her friend, the other her delight.

SYLLA. Cornelia, man hath power by some instinct And gracious revolution of the stars, To conquer kingdoms, not to master fate: For when the course of mortal life is run, Then Clotho ends the web her sister spun. Pompey, Lord Flaccus, fellow-senators, In that I feel the faintful dews of death Steeping mine eyes within their chilly wet, The care I have of wife and daughter both, Must on your wisdom happily rely. With equal distribution see you part My lands and goods betwixt these lovely twain: Only bestow a hundred thousand sesterces Upon my friends and fellow-soldiers. Thus, having made my final testament, Come, Fulvia, let thy father lay his head Upon thy lovely bosom, and entreat A virtuous boon and favour at thy hands. Fair Roman maid, see that thou wed thy fairness[167] To modest, virtuous, and delightful thoughts: Let Rome, in viewing thee, behold thy sire. Honour Cornelia, from whose fruitful womb Thy plenteous beauties sweetly did appear; And with this lesson, lovely maid, farewell.

FULVIA. O tedious and unhappy chance for me.

SYLLA. Content thee, Fulvia, for it needs must be. Cornelia, I must leave thee to the world; And by those loves that I have lent thee oft, In mutual wedlock-rites and happy war, Remember Sylla in my Fulvia still. Consul, farewell! my Pompey, I must hence: And farewell, Rome: and, Fortune, now I bless thee, That both in life and death would'st not oppress me! [Dies.

CORNELIA. O hideous storms of never-daunted fate! Now are those eyes, whose sweet reflections cool'd The smother'd rancours of rebellious thoughts, Clad with the sable mantles of the night; And like the tree that, robb'd of sun and showers, Mourns desolate withouten leaf or sap, So poor Cornelia, late bereft of love, Sits sighing, hapless, joyless, and forlorn.

FULVIA. Gone is the flow'r that did adorn our fields; Fled are those sweet reflections of delight: Dead is my father! Fulvia, dead is he In whom thy life, for whom thy death, must be.

FLACCUS. Ladies, to tire the time in restless moan Were tedious unto friends and nature too. Sufficeth you, that Sylla so is dead, As fame shall sing his power, though life be fled.

POMPEY. Then to conclude his happiness, my lords, Determine where shall be his funeral.

LEPIDUS. Even there where other nobles are interr'd.

POMPEY. Why, Lepidus, what Roman ever was, That merited so high a name as he? Then why with simple pomp and funeral Would you entomb so rare a paragon?

CORNELIA. An urn of gold shall hem his ashes in: The vestal virgins with their holy notes Shall sing his famous, though too fatal, death. I and my Fulvia with dispersed hair Will wait upon this noble Roman's hearse.

FULVIA. And Fulvia, clad in black and mournful pall, Will wait upon her father's funeral.

POMPEY. Come, bear we hence this trophy of renown, Whose life, whose death, was far from fortune's frown.

[_Exeunt omnes.

The funerals of SYLLA in great pomp.

Deo juvante, nil nocet livor malus: Et non juvante nil juvat labor gravis_.

FINIS.



MUCEDORUS.



_EDITIONS.

A Most pleasant Comedie of Mucedorus the kings sonne of Valentia and Amadine the Kings daughter of Arragon, with the merie conceites of Mouse. Newly set foorth, as it hath bin sundrie times plaide in the honorable Cittie of London. Very delectable and full of mirth. London Printed for William Iones, dwelling at Holborne conduit, at the signe of the Gunne_. 1598. 4to.

A Most pleasant Comedie of Mucedorus the Kings sonne of Valentia, and Amadine the Kings daughter of Aragon. With the merry conceites of Mouse. Amplified with new additions, as it was acted before the Kings Maiestie at White-hall on Shroue-Sunday night. By his Highnes Seruants vsually playing at the Globe. Very delectable, and full of conceited Mirth. Imprinted at London for William Iones, dwelling neare Holborne Conduit, at the signe of the Gunne. 1610. 4to.

An edition of 1606 is mentioned in "Beauclerc's Catalogue," 1781, as noticed by Hazlitt. There were others in 1613, 1615, 1619, 1668, and without date, all in 4to.

This drama, at one time conjecturally given to Shakespeare, is now first reprinted from the original copy of 1598, collated with that of 1610; and the additions are inserted between brackets. Whether the additions and corrections were the work of the original writer, or of some one else, is uncertain; but it does not appear improbable that they were the author's.

From the play of "Mucedorus" was formed a ballad entitled "The Wandering Prince and Princess, or Mucedorus and Amadine."



THE PROLOGUE.[168]

Most sacred Majesty, whose great deserts Thy subject England, nay, the world, admires: Which heaven grant still increase! O, may your praise Multiplying with your hours, your fame still raise. Embrace your Council: love with faith them guide, That both at one bench, by each other's side. So may your life pass on, and run so even, That your firm zeal plant you a throne in heaven, Where smiling angels shall your guardians be From blemish'd traitors, stain'd with perjury. And, as the night's inferior to the day, So be all earthly regions to your sway! Be as the sun to day, the day to night, For from your beams Europe shall borrow light. Mirth drown your bosom, fair delight your mind, And may our pastime your contentment find. [Exit Prologue.



DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

_Eight[169] persons may easily play it.

The_ KING _and_ RUMBELO. _For one_. MUCEDORUS, _the Prince of Valencia. For one_. AMADINE, _the_ KING'S _daughter of Arragon. For one_. SEGASTO, _a Nobleman. For one_. ENVY: TREMELIO, _a Captain. For one_. BREMO, _a wild man_. COMEDY, _a boy, an old woman. For one_. ARIENA, AMADINE'S _maid_. COLLEN, _a Councillor, a Messenger. For one_. MOUSE, _the Clown. For one_.



MUCEDORUS.

Enter COMEDY joyfully, with a garland of bays on her head.

Why so; thus do I hope to please: Music revives, and mirth is tolerable, Comedy, play thy part, and please; Make merry them that come to joy with thee. Joy, then, good gentles; I hope to make you laugh. Sound forth Bellona's silver-tuned strings. Time fits us well, the day and place is ours.

Enter ENVY, his arms naked, besmeared with blood.

ENVY. Nay, stay, minion; there lies a block! What, all on mirth? I'll interrupt your tale, And mix your music with a tragic end.

COMEDY. What monstrous ugly hag is this, That dares control the pleasures of our will? Vaunt, churlish cur, besmear'd with gory blood, That seem'st to check the blossoms of delight, And stifle the sound of sweet Bellona's breath, Blush, monster, blush, and post away with shame, That seekest disturbance of a goddess' deeds.

ENVY. Post hence thyself, thou counterchecking trull; I will possess this habit, spite of thee, And gain the glory of thy wished port. I'll thunder music shall appal the nymphs, And make them shiver their clattering strings: Flying for succour to their Danish caves.

Sound drums within, and cry, Stab, stab!

Hearken, thou shalt hear a noise Shall fill the air with a shrilling sound, And thunder music to the gods above: Mars shall himself breathe down A peerless crown upon brave Envy's head, And raise his chival with a lasting fame. In this brave music Envy takes delight, Where I may see them wallow in their blood, To spurn at arms and legs quite shivered off, And hear the cry of many thousand slain, How lik'st thou this, my trull? this sport alone for me!

COMEDY. Vaunt, bloody cur, nurs'd up with tigers' sap, That so dost seek to quail a woman's mind. Comedy is mild, gentle, willing for to please, And seeks to gain the love of all estates. Delighting in mirth, mix'd all with lovely tales, And bringeth things with treble joy to pass. Thou bloody envious disdainer of men's joys, Whose name is fraught with bloody stratagems, Delights in nothing but in spoil and death, Where thou may'st trample in their lukewarm blood, And grasp their hearts within thy cursed paws. Yet veil thy mind; revenge thou not on me; A silly woman begs it at thy hands. Give me the leave to utter out my play; Forbear this place; I humbly crave thee, hence! And mix not death 'mongst pleasing comedies, That treat nought else but pleasure and delight. If any spark of human rests in thee, Forbear; begone; tender the suit of me.

ENVY. Why, so I will; forbearance shall be such, As treble death shall cross thee with despite, And make thee mourn, where most thou joyest, Turning thy mirth into a deadly dole: Whirling thy pleasures with a peal of death, And drench thy methods in a sea of blood. This will I do; thus shall I bear with thee; And, more to vex thee with a deeper spite, I will with threats of blood begin thy play: Favouring thee with envy and with hate.

COMEDY. Then, ugly monster, do thy worst; I will defend them in despite of thee: And though thou think'st with tragic fumes To brave my play unto my deep disgrace, I force it not, I scorn what thou canst do; I'll grace it so, thyself shall it confess, From tragic stuff to be a pleasant comedy.

ENVY. Why then, Comedy, send thy actors forth, And I will cross the first steps of their tread, Making them fear the very dart of death.

COMEDY. And I'll defend them, maugre all thy spite. So, ugly fiend, farewell, till time shall serve, That we may meet to parley for the best.

ENVY. Content, Comedy; I'll go spread my branch And scattered blossoms from mine envious tree, Shall prove two monsters, spoiling of their joys. [_Exit.

[Sound.] Enter MUCEDORUS and ANSELMO, his friend.

MUCEDORUS. Anselmo.

ANSELMO. My lord and friend.

MUCEDORUS. True, my Anselmo, both thy lord and friend, Whose dear affections bosom with my heart, And keep their domination in one orb.

ANSELMO. Whence ne'er disloyalty shall root it forth, But faith plant firmer in your choice respect.

MUCEDORUS. Much blame were mine, if I should other deem, Nor can coy Fortune contrary allow. But, my Anselmo, loth I am to say, I must estrange that friendship. Misconstrue not; 'tis from the realm, not thee: Though lands part bodies, hearts keep company. Thou know'st that I imparted often have Private relations with my royal sire, Had as concerning beauteous Amadine, Rich Arragon's blight jewel, whose face (some say) That blooming lilies never shone so gay, Excelling, not excell'd: yet, lest report Does mangle verity, boasting of what is not, Wing'd with desire, thither I'll straight repair, And be my fortunes, as my thoughts are, fair!

ANSELMO. Will you forsake Valencia, leave the court, Absent you from the eye of sovereignty? Do not, sweet prince, adventure on that task, Since danger lurks each where; be won from it.

MUCEDORUS. Desist dissuasion, My resolution brooks no battery, Therefore, if thou retain thy wonted form, Assist what I intend.

ANSELMO. Your miss will breed a blemish in the court, And throw a frosty dew upon that beard, Whose front Valencia stoops to.

MUCEDORUS. If thou my welfare tender, then no more; Let love's strong magic charm thy trivial phrase, Wasted as vainly as to gripe the sun. Augment not then more answers; lock thy lips, Unless thy wisdom suit me with disguise, According to my purpose.

ANSELMO. That action craves no counsel, Since what you rightly are, will more command, Than best usurped shape.

MUCEDORUS. Thou still art opposite in disposition; A more obscure servile habiliment Beseems this enterprise.

ANSELMO. Then like a Florentine or mountebank!

MUCEDORUS. 'Tis much too tedious; I dislike thy judgment, My mind is grafted on an humbler stock.

ANSELMO. Within my closet does there hang a cassock— Though base the weed is, 'twas a shepherd's— Which I presented in Lord Julio's masque.

MUCEDORUS. That, my Anselmo, and none else but that, Mask Mucedorus from the vulgar view. That habit suits my mind; fetch me that weed. [Exit ANSELMO. Better than kings have not disdain'd that state, And much inferior, to obtain their mate.

Re-enter ANSELMO with a shepherd's coat, which he gives to MUCEDORUS.

MUCEDORUS. So let our respect command thy secrecy. At once a brief farewell; Delay to lovers is a second hell. [Exit MUCEDORUS.

ANSELMO. Prosperity forerun thee: awkward chance Never be neighbour to thy wishes' venture: Content and Fame advance thee: ever thrive, And glory thy mortality survive!

Enter MOUSE with a bottle of hay.

MOUSE. O, horrible, terrible! Was ever poor gentleman so scar'd out of his seven senses? A bear? Nay, sure it cannot be a bear, but some devil in a bear's doublet; for a bear could never have had that agility to have frighted me. Well, I'll see my father hanged before I'll serve his horse any more. Well, I'll carry home my bottle of hay, and for once make my father's horse turn Puritan, and observe fasting-days, for he gets not a bit. But soft! this way she followed me; therefore I'll take the other path; and because I'll be sure to have an eye on him, I will take hands with some foolish creditor, and make every step backward.

[_As he goes backwards, the bear comes in, and he tumbles over her, and runs away, and leaves his bottle of hay behind him.]

Enter_ SEGASTO _running, and_ AMADINE _after him, being pursued with a bear_.

SEGASTO. O, fly, madam, fly, or else we are but dead!

AMADINE. Help, Segasto! help, help, sweet Segasto, or else I die!

[SEGASTO runs away.

SEGASTO. Alas, madam! there is no way but flight; Then haste, and save yourself.

AMADINE. Why then I die; ah! help me in distress.

Enter MUCEDORUS like a shepherd, with a sword drawn and a bear's head in his hand.

MUCEDORUS. Stay, lady, stay; and be no more dismay'd; That cruel beast, most merciless and fell, Which hath bereaved thousands of their lives, Affrighted many with his hard pursues, Prying from place to place to find his prey, Prolonging thus his life by others' death, His carcase now lies headless, void of breath.

AMADINE. That foul, deformed monster, is he dead?

MUCEDORUS. Assure yourself thereof—behold his head; Which, if it please you, lady, to accept, With willing heart I yield it to your majesty.

AMADINE. Thanks, worthy shepherd, thanks a thousand times; This gift, assure thyself, contents me more Than greatest bounty of a mighty prince, Although he were the monarch of the world.

MUCEDORUS. Most gracious goddess, more than mortal wight— Your heavenly hue of right imports no less— Most glad am I, in that it was my chance To undertake this enterprise in hand, Which doth so greatly glad your princely mind.

AMADINE. No goddess, shepherd, but a mortal wight— A mortal wight distressed as thou seest: My father here is King of Arragon: I, Amadine, his only daughter am, And after him sole heir unto the crown. Now, whereas it is my father's will To marry me unto Segasto, one, Whose wealth through father's former usury Is known to be no less than wonderful, We both of custom oftentimes did use, Leaving the court, to walk within the fields For recreation, especially [in] the spring, In that it yields great store of rare delights; And, passing farther than our wonted walks, Scarce ent'red were within these luckless woods. But right before us down a steep-fall hill, A monstrous ugly bear did hie him fast To meet us both—I faint to tell the rest, Good shepherd—but suppose the ghastly looks, The hideous fears, the thousand hundred woes, Which at this instant Amadine sustained.

MUCEDORUS. Yet, worthy princess, let thy sorrow cease, And let this sight your former joys revive.

AMADINE. Believe me, shepherd, so it doth no less.

MUCEDORUS. Long may they last unto your heart's content. But tell me, lady, what is become of him, Segasto call'd, what is become of him?

AMADINE. I know not, I; that know the powers divine; But God grant this, that sweet Segasto live!

MUCEDORUS. Yet hard-hearted he, in such a case, So cowardly to save himself by flight, And leave so brave a princess to the spoil.

AMADINE. Well, shepherd, for thy worthy valour tried, Endangering thyself to set me free, Unrecompensed, sure, thou shalt not be. In court thy courage shall be plainly known; Throughout the kingdom will I spread thy name. To thy renown and never-dying fame; And that thy courage may be better known, Bear thou the head of this most monstrous beast In open sight to every courtier's view. So will the king, my father, thee reward: Come, let's away and guard me to the court.

[MUCEDORUS. With all my heart.]

[_Exeunt.

Enter_ SEGASTO _solus_.

SEGASTO. When heaps of harms do hover over-head, 'Tis time as then, some say, to look about, And so [of] ensuing harms to choose the least. But hard, yea hapless, is that wretch's chance, Luckless his lot and caitiff-like accurs'd, At whose proceedings fortune ever frowns— Myself, I mean, most subject unto thrall; For I, the more I seek to shun the worst, The more by proof I find myself accurs't. Erewhiles assaulted with an ugly bear: Fair Amadine in company all alone: Forthwith by flight I thought to save myself, Leaving my Amadine unto her shifts; For death it was for to resist the bear, And death no less of Amadine's harms to hear. Accursed I in ling'ring life thus long In living thus, each minute of an hour Doth pierce my heart with darts of thousand deaths: If she by flight her fury do escape, What will she think? Will she not say—yea, flatly to my face, Accusing me of mere disloyalty— A trusty friend is tried in time of need; But I, when she in danger was of death, And needed me, and cried, Segasto, help! I turn'd my back, and quickly ran away, Unworthy I to bear this vital breath! But what, what needs these plaints? If Amadine do live, then happy I. She will in time forgive, and so forget. Amadine is merciful, not Juno-like, In harmful heart to harbour hatred long.

Enter MOUSE the Clown running, crying, Clubs!

MOUSE. Clubs, prongs, pitchforks, bills! O help! A bear, a bear, a bear!

SEGASTO. Still bears, and nothing else but bears? Tell me, sirrah, where she is.

CLOWN. O sir, she is run down the woods: I see her white head and her white belly.

SEGASTO. Thou talkest of wonders, to tell me of white bears; But, sirrah, didst thou ever see any such?

CLOWN. No, faith, I never saw any such; But I remember my father's words, He bad me take heed I was not caught with a white bear.

SEGASTO. A lamentable tale, no doubt.

CLOWN. I tell you what, sir; as I was going afield to serve my father's great horse, and carried a bottle of hay upon my head—now, do you see, sir?—I, fast hoodwinked, that I could see nothing, perceiving the bear coming, I threw my hay into the hedge and ran away.

SEGASTO. What, from nothing?

CLOWN. I warrant you, yes; I saw something; for there was two load of thorns besides my bottle of hay, and that made three.

SEGASTO. But tell me, sirrah; the bear that thou didst see, Did she not bear a bucket on her arm?

CLOWN. Ha, ha, ha! I never saw bear go a-milking in all my life. But hark you, sir, I did not look so high as her arm; I saw nothing but her white head and her white belly.

SEGASTO. But tell me, sirrah, where dost thou dwell?

CLOWN. Why, do you not know me?

SEGASTO. Why, no; how should I know thee?

CLOWN. Why then you know nobody, and you know not me[170]. I tell you, sir, I am the goodman Rat's son, of the next parish over the hill.

SEGASTO. Goodman Rat's son; why, what's thy name?

CLOWN. Why, I am very near kin unto him.

SEGASTO. I think so; but what's thy name.

CLOWN. My name? I have [a] very pretty name; I'll tell you what my name is—my name is Mouse.

SEGASTO. What, plain Mouse?

CLOWN. Ay, plain Mouse, without either welt or gard. But do you hear, sir, I am but a very young Mouse, For my tail is scarce grown out yet. Look you here else.

SEGASTO. But I pray thee, who gave thee that name?

CLOWN. Faith, sir, I know not that; but if you would fain know, ask my father's great horse, for he hath been half a year longer with my father than I have.

SEGASTO. This seems to be a merry fellow; I care not if I take him home with me. Mirth is a comfort to a troubled mind, A merry man a merry master makes. [Aside. How say'st thou, sirrah? wilt thou dwell with me?

CLOWN. Nay, soft, sir, two words to a bargain; pray you, what occupation are you?

SEGASTO. No occupation; I live upon my lands.

CLOWN. Your lands; away, you are no master for me. Why, do you think that I am so mad, to go seek my living in the lands amongst the stones, briars and bushes, and tear my holiday apparel? Not I, by your leave.

SEGASTO. Why, I do not mean thou shalt.

CLOWN. How then?

SEGASTO. Why, thou shalt be my man, and wait upon me at the court.

CLOWN. What's that?

SEGASTO. Where the king lies.

CLOWN. What's that same king—a man or a woman?

SEGASTO. A man, as thou art.

CLOWN. As I am? Hark you, sir; pray you, what kin is he to goodman King of our parish, the churchwarden?

SEGASTO. No kin to him; he is the king of the whole land.

CLOWN. King of the land? I never see him.

SEGASTO. If thou wilt dwell with me, thou shalt see him every day.

CLOWN. Shall I go home again to be torn in pieces with bears? No, not I; I will go home and put on a clean shirt, and then go drown myself.

SEGASTO. Thou shalt not need, if thou wilt dwell with me; thou shalt want nothing.

CLOWN. Shall I not? Then here's my hand: I'll dwell with you. And hark you, sir! now you have entertained me, I will tell you what I can do. I can keep my tongue from picking and stealing, and my hands from lying and slandering, I warrant you, as well as ever you had man, in all your life.

SEGASTO. Now will I to court with sorrowful heart, rounded with doubts. If Amadine do live, then happy I: yea, happy I, if Amadine do live!

[_Exeunt.

Enter the_ KING, _with a young Prince prisoner_, AMADINE[171], _with_ COLLEN _and Councillors_.

KING. Now, brave lords, [that] our wars are brought to end; Our foes [have had] the foil, and we in safety rest, It us behoves to use such clemency In peace, as valour in the wars. It is As great honour to be bountiful At home, as to be conquerors in the field. Therefore, my lords, the more to my content, Your liking, and your country's safeguard, We are dispos'd in marriage for to give Our daughter to Lord Segasto here, Who shall succeed the diadem after me, And reign hereafter as I tofore have done, Your sole and lawful King of Arragon: What say you, lordings, like you of my advice?

COLLEN. An't please your majesty, we do not only allow of your highness's pleasure, but also vow faithfully in what we may to further it.

KING. Thanks, good my lords, if long Adrostus live, He will at full requite your courtesies. Tremelio, in recompense of thy late valour done, Take unto thee the Catalonian prince[172], Lately our prisoner taken in the wars. Be thou his keeper; his ransom shall be thine; We'll think of it, when leisure shall afford. Meanwhile, do use him well; his father is a king.

TREMELIO. Thanks to your majesty, his usage shall be such As he thereat shall think no cause to grutch.

[Exeunt TREMELIO and Prince.

KING. Then march we on to court, and rest our wearied limbs. But, Collen, I have a tale in secret kept for thee: When thou shalt hear a watchword from thy king, Think then some weighty matter is at hand, That highly shall concern our state, Then, Collen, look thou be not far from me: And for thy service thou tofore hast done, Thy truth and valour prov'd in every point, I shall with bounties thee enlarge therefore: So guard us to the court.

COLLEN. What so my sovereign doth command me do, With willing mind I gladly yield consent.

[_Exeunt.

Enter_ SEGASTO _and the_ CLOWN, _with weapons about him_.

SEGASTO. Tell me, sirrah, how do you like your weapons?

CLOWN. O, very well, very well; they keep my sides warm.

SEGASTO. They keep the dogs from your shins very well, do they not?

CLOWN. How, keep the dogs from my shins? I would scorn but my shins could keep the dogs from them.

SEGASTO. Well, sirrah, leaving idle talk, tell me, Dost thou know Captain Tremelio's chamber?

CLOWN. Ay, very well, it hath a door.

SEGASTO. I think so; for so hath every chamber. But dost thou know the man?

CLOWN. Ay forsooth, he hath a nose on his face.

SEGASTO. Why, so hath every one.

CLOWN. That's more than I know.

SEGASTO. But dost thou remember the Captain, that was here with the King even now, that brought the young prince prisoner?

CLOWN. O, very well.

SEGASTO. Go unto him, and bid him come to me. Tell him I have a matter in secret to impart to him.

CLOWN. I will, master; master, what's his name?

SEGASTO. Why, Captain Tremelio.

CLOWN. O, the meal-man. I know him very well. He brings meal every Saturday; but hark you, master, must I bid him come to you, or must you come to him?

SEGASTO. No, sirrah, he must come to me.

CLOWN. Hark you, master; how, if he be not at home? What shall I do then?

SEGASTO. Why then, leave word with some of his folks.

CLOWN. How,[173] master, if there be nobody within? I will leave word with his dog.

SEGASTO. Why, can his dog speak?

CLOWN. I cannot tell; wherefore doth he keep his chamber else?

SEGASTO. To keep out such knaves as thou art.

CLOWN. Nay, by'r Lady, then go yourself.

SEGASTO. You will go, sir, will ye not?

CLOWN. Yes, marry, will I. O, 'tis come to my head; And a' be not within, I'll bring his chamber to you.

SEGASTO. What, wilt thou pluck down the King's house?

CLOWN. Nay, by'r Lady, I'll know the price of it first. Master, it is such a hard name, I have forgotten it again. I pray you, tell me his name.

SEGASTO. I tell thee, Captain Tremelio.

CLOWN. O, Captain Treble-knave, Captain Treble-knave.

Enter TREMELIO.

TREMELIO. How now, sirrah, dost thou call me?

CLOWN. You must come to my master, Captain Treble-knave.

TREMELIO. My Lord Segasto, did you send for me?

SEGASTO. I did, Tremelio. Sirrah, about your business.

CLOWN. Ay, marry, what's that, can you tell?

SEGASTO. No, not well.

CLOWN. Marry, then, I can; straight to the kitchen-dresser, to John the cook, and get me a good piece of beef and brewis; and then to the buttery-hatch, to Thomas the butler for a jack of beer, and there for an hour I'll so belabour myself; and therefore I pray you call me not till you think I have done, I pray you, good master.

SEGASTO. Well, sir, away. [Exit MOUSE. Tremelio, this it is. Thou knowest the valour of Segasto, Spread through all the kingdom of Arragon, And such as hath found triumph and favours, Never daunted at any time? But now a shepherd [Is] admired at in court for worthiness, And Segasto's honour [is] laid aside. My will therefore is this, that thou dost find Some means to work the shepherd's death; I know Thy strength sufficient to perform my desire, and thy love no otherwise than to revenge my injuries.

TREMELIO. It is not the frowns of a shepherd that Tremelio fears, Therefore account it accomplished, what I take in hand.

SEGASTO. Thanks, good Tremelio, and assure thyself, What I promise that will I perform.

TREMELIO. Thanks, my good lord, and in good time see where He cometh. Stand by awhile, and you shall see Me put in practice your intended drifts. Have at thee, swain, if that I hit thee right!

Enter MUCEDORUS.

MUCEDORUS. Vile coward, so without cause to strike a man—Turn, coward, turn; now strike, and do thy worst. [MUCEDORUS killeth him.

SEGASTO. Hold, shepherd, hold; spare him, kill him not. Accursed villain, tell me, what hast thou done? Ah, Tremelio, trusty Tremelio! I sorrow for thy death, and since that thou Living didst prove faithful to Segasto, So Segasto now living shall honour the dead corpse Of Tremelio with revenge. Bloodthirsty villain, Born and bred to merciless murther, tell me How durst thou be so bold, as once to lay Thy hands upon the least of mine? Assure thyself Thou shalt be us'd according to the law.

MUCEDORUS. Segasto, cease; these threats are needless. But in mine own defence accuse not me Of murther that have done nothing.

SEGASTO. Nay, shepherd, reason not with me; I'll manifest the fact unto the King, Whose doom will be thy death, as thou deserv'st. What ho, Mouse, come away!

Enter MOUSE.

CLOWN. Why, how now, what's the matter? I thought you would be calling before I had done.

SEGASTO. Come, help, away with my friend.

CLOWN. Why, is he drunk? cannot he stand on his feet?

SEGASTO. No, he is not drunk; he is slain.

CLOWN. Flain! no, byŕ Lady, he is not flain.

SEGASTO. He's killed, I tell thee.

CLOWN. What, do you use to kill your friends? I will serve you no longer.

SEGASTO. I tell thee the shepherd kill'd him.

CLOWN. O, did a so? But, master, I will have all his apparel If I carry him away.

SEGASTO. Why, so thou shalt.

CLOWN. Come, then, I will help; mass, master, I think His mother sang looby to him, he is so heavy.

[Exeunt.

MUCEDORUS. Behold the fickle state of man, always mutable; Never at one. Sometimes we feed on fancies With the sweet of our desires: sometimes again We feel the heat of extreme miseries. Now am I in favour about the court and country, To-morrow those favours will turn to frowns, To-day I live revenged on my foe, To-morrow I die, my foe revenged on me. [_Exit.

Enter_ BREMO, _a wild man_.

BREMO. No passenger this morning? what, not one? A chance that seldom doth befall. What, not one? then lie thou there, And rest thyself, till I have further need. [_Lays down his club_. Now, Bremo, sith thy leisure so affords, An endless thing. Who knows not Bremo's strength, Who like a king commands within these woods. The bear, the boar, dares not abide my sight, But hastes away to save themselves by flight. The crystal waters in the bubbling brooks, When I come by, doth swiftly slide away, And claps themselves in closets under banks, Afraid to look bold Bremo in the face: The aged oaks at Bremo's breath do bow, And all things else are still at my command, Else what would I? Rend them in pieces, and pluck them from the earth, And each way else I would revenge myself. Why, who comes here, with whom I dare not fight? Who fights with me, and doth not die the death? Not one. What favour shows this sturdy stick to those, that here Within these woods are combatants with me? Why, death, and nothing else but present death. With restless rage I wander through these woods; No creature here but feareth Bremo's force, Man, woman, child; beast and bird, And everything that doth approach my sight, Are forc'd to fall, if Bremo once do frown. Come, cudgel, come, my partner in my spoils, For here I see this day it will not be. But when it falls, that I encounter any, One pat sufficeth for to work my will. What, comes not one? Then let's begone; A time will serve, when we shall better speed. [_Exit.

Enter the_ KING, SEGASTO, _the_ SHEPHERD, _and the_ CLOWN, _with others_.

KING. Shepherd, Thou hast heard thine accusers. Murther Is laid to thy charge; what canst thou say? Thou hast deserved death.

MUCEDORUS. Dread sovereign, I must needs confess I slew this captain in mine own defence, Not of any malice, but by chance; But mine accuser hath a further meaning.

SEGASTO. Words will not here prevail, I seek for justice, and justice craves his death.

KING. Shepherd, thine own confession hath condemned thee. Sirrah, take him away, and do him to execution straight.

CLOWN. So he shall, I warrant him. But do you hear, Master King, he is kin to a monkey; his neck is bigger than his head.

SEGASTO. Sirrah, away with him, and hang him about the middle.

CLOWN. Yes, forsooth, I warrant you. Come on, sir, a so like a sheep-biter a looks.

Enter AMADINE, and a boy with a bear's head.

AMADINE. Dread sovereign and well-beloved sire, On benden knees I crave the life of this Condemn'd shepherd, which heretofore preserved The life of thy sometime distressed daughter.

KING. Preserved the life of my sometime distressed daughter? How can that be? I never knew the time, Wherein thou wast distress'd. I never knew the day But that I have maintained thy estate, As best beseem'd the daughter of a king: I never saw the shepherd until now. How comes it then, that he preserv'd thy life?

AMADINE. Once walking with Segasto in the woods, Further than our accustom'd manner was, Right before us down a steep-fall hill, A monstrous ugly bear did hie him fast To meet us both—now whether this be true, I refer it to the credit of Segasto.

SEGASTO. Most true, an't like your majesty.

KING. How then?

AMADINE. The bear, being eager to obtain his prey, Made forward to us with an open mouth, As if he meant to swallow us both at once. The sight whereof did make us both to dread, But specially your daughter Amadine, Who for I saw no succour incident, But in Segasto's valour, I grew desperate, And he most coward-like began to fly. Left me distress'd to be devour'd of him— How say you, Segasto? is it not true?

KING. His silence verifies it to be true. What then?

AMADINE. Then I amaz'd, distressed, all alone, Did hie me fast to 'scape that ugly bear. But all in vain; for why he reached after me, And oft I hardly did[174] escape his paws, Till at the length this shepherd came, And brought to me his head. Come hither, boy; lo, here it is, Which I present unto your majesty.

KING. The slaughter of this bear deserves great fame.

SEGASTO. The slaughter of a man deserves great blame.

KING. Indeed occasion oftentimes so falls out.

SEGASTO. Tremelio in the wars, O King, preserved thee.

AMADINE. The shepherd in the woods, O King, preserved me.

SEGASTO. Tremelio fought, when many men did yield.

AMADINE. So would the shepherd, had he been in field.

CLOWN. So would my master, had he not run away. [Aside.

SEGASTO. Tremelio's force saved thousands from the foe.

AMADINE. The shepherd's force hath saved thousands mo.

CLOWN. Ay, shipsticks, nothing else. [Aside.

KING. Segasto, cease to accuse the shepherd; His worthiness deserves a recompense, All we are bound to do the shepherd good. Shepherd, whereas It was my sentence thou should'st die, So shall my sentence stand, for thou shalt die.

SEGASTO. Thanks to your majesty.

KING. But soft, Segasto, not for this offence. Long may'st thou live; and when the Sisters shall decree To cut in twain the twisted thread of life, Then let him die: for this I set him free, And for thy valour I will honour thee.

MUCEDORUS. Thanks to your majesty.

KING. Come, daughter, let us now depart To honour the worthy valour of the shepherd With our rewards.

[Exeunt.

CLOWN. O master, hear you; you have made a fresh hand now; you would be slow, you. Why, what will you do now? You have lost me a good occupation by this means. Faith, master, now I cannot hang the shepherd. I pray you, let me take the pains to hang you: it is but half an hour's exercise.

SEGASTO. You are still in your knavery; but, sith I cannot have his life, I will procure his banishment for ever. Come on, sirrah.

CLOWN. Yes, forsooth, I come. Laugh at him, I pray you.

[_Exeunt.

Enter_ MUCEDORUS _solus_.

MUCEDORUS. From Amadine, and from her father's court, With gold and silver, and with rich rewards Flowing from the banks of golden treasuries. More may I boast, and say, but I, Was never shepherd in such dignity.

Enter the MESSENGER and the CLOWN.

MESSENGER. All hail, worthy shepherd!

CLOWN. All rain, lousy shepherd!

MUCEDORUS. Welcome, my friends, from whence come you?

MESSENGER. The King and Amadine greet thee well, And after greetings done, bids thee depart the court Shepherd, begone.

CLOWN. Shepherd, take law legs; fly away, shepherd.

MUCEDORUS. Whose words are these? Come these from Amadine?

MESSENGER. Ay, from Amadine.

CLOWN. Ay, from Amadine.

MUCEDORUS. Ah! luckless fortune, worse than Phaeton's tale, My former bliss is now become my bale.

CLOWN. What, wilt thou poison thyself?

MUCEDORUS. My former heaven is now become my hell.

CLOWN. The worst alehouse That I ever came in in all my life.

MUCEDORUS. What shall I do?

CLOWN. Even go hang thyself half an hour.

MUCEDORUS. Can Amadine so churlishly command, To banish the shepherd from her father's court?

MESSENGER. What should shepherds do in the court?

CLOWN. What should shepherds do among us? Have we not lords enough o'er[175] us in the court?

MUCEDORUS. Why, shepherds are men, and kings are no more.

MESSENGER. Shepherds are men, and masters over their flock.

CLOWN. That's a lie; who pays them their wages, then?

MESSENGER. Well, you are always interrupting of me, But you are best look to him, Lest you hang for him, when he is gone. [_Exit.

The_ CLOWN _sings_.

CLOWN. And you shall hang for company, For leaving me alone.

Shepherd, stand forth, and hear thy sentence. Shepherd, begone within three days, in pain of My displeasure; shepherd, begone; shepherd, begone, Begone, begone, begone; shepherd, shepherd, shepherd. [Exit.

MUCEDORUS. And must I go, and must I needs depart? Ye goodly groves, partakers of my songs, In time tofore, when fortune did not frown, Pour forth your plaints, and wail awhile with me. And thou bright sun, my comfort in the cold, Hide, hide thy face, and leave me comfortless. Ye wholesome herbs and sweet-smelling savours— Yea, each thing else prolonging life of man— Change, change your wonted course, that I, Wanting your aid, in woful sort may die.

Enter AMADINE [and ARIENA, her maid.]

AMADINE. Ariena, if anybody ask for me, Make some excuse, till I return.

ARIENA. What, and Segasto call?

AMADINE. Do thou the like to him? I mean not to stay long. [Exit.

MUCEDORUS. This voice so sweet my pining spirits revives.

AMADINE. Shepherd, well-met; tell me how thou doest.

MUCEDORUS. I linger life, yet wish for speedy death.

AMADINE. Shepherd, although thy banishment Already be decreed, and all against my will, Yet Amadine——

MUCEDORUS. Ah, Amadine! to hear Of banishment is death—ay, double death to me; But since I must depart, one thing I crave.

AMADINE. Say on, with all my heart.

MUCEDORUS. That in absence either far or near, You honour me as servant with your name.

AMADINE. Not so.

MUCEDORUS. And why?

AMADINE. I honour thee as sovereign of my heart.

MUCEDORUS. A shepherd and a sovereign nothing like.

AMADINE. Yet like enough, where there is no dislike.

MUCEDORUS. Yet great dislike, or else no banishment.

AMADINE. Shepherd, it is only Segasto that Procures thy banishment.

MUCEDORUS. Unworthy wights are most in jealousy.

AMADINE. Would God they would Free thee from banishment, or likewise banish me.

MUCEDORUS. Amen say I, to have your company.

AMADINE. Well, shepherd, sith thou sufferest This for my sake, With thee in exile also let me live, On this condition, shepherd, thou canst love.

MUCEDORUS. No longer love, no longer let me live.

AMADINE. Of late I loved one indeed, now love I none but only thee.

MUCEDORUS. Thanks, worthy princess: I burn likewise, yet smother up the blast, I dare not promise what I may perform.

AMADINE. Well, shepherd, hark what I shall say, I will return unto my father's court, There[176] to provide me of such necessaries As for my journey I shall think most fit. This being done, I will return to thee. Do thou Therefore appoint the place, where we may meet.

MUCEDORUS. Down in the valley where I slew the bear; And there doth grow a fair broad branched beech, That overshades a well: so who comes first, Let them abide the happy meeting of Us both. How like you this?

AMADINE. I like it very well.

MUCEDORUS. Now, if you please, you may appoint the time.

AMADINE. Full three hours hence, God willing, I will return.

MUCEDORUS. The thanks that Paris gave the Grecian queen, The like doth Mucedorus yield.

AMADINE. Then, Mucedorus, for three hours, farewell. [Exit.

MUCEDORUS. Your departure, lady, breeds a privy pain. [_Exit.

Enter_ SEGASTO _solus_.

SEGASTO. 'Tis well, Segasto, that thou hast thy will. Should such a shepherd, such a simple swain, As he eclipse thy credit, famous through The court? No, ply, Segasto, ply; Let it not in Arragon be said, A shepherd hath Segasto's honour won.

Enter MOUSE, the Clown, calling his master.

CLOWN. What ho! master, will you come away?

SEGASTO. Will you come hither, I pray you, what's the matter?

CLOWN. Why, is it not past eleven o'clock?

SEGASTO. How then, sir?

CLOWN. I pray you, come away to dinner.

SEGASTO. I pray you, come hither.

CLOWN. Here's such a-do with you, will you never come?

SEGASTO. I pray you, sir, what news of the message I sent you about?

CLOWN. I tell you, all the messes be on the table already— (There wants not so much as a mess of mustard) half an hour ago.

SEGASTO. Come, sir, your mind is all upon your belly. You have forgotten what I did bid you do.

CLOWN. Faith, I know nothing, but you bad me go to breakfast.

SEGASTO. Was that all?

CLOWN. Faith, I have forgotten it, the very scent of the meat made me forget[177] it quite.

SEGASTO. You have forgotten the errand I bid you do?

CLOWN. What arrant? an arrant knave or an arrant whore?

SEGASTO. Why, thou knave, did I not bid thee banish the shepherd?

CLOWN. O, the shepherd's bastard?

SEGASTO. I tell thee, the shepherd's banishment.

CLOWN. I tell you, the shepherd's bastard shall be well kept; I'll look to it myself. But I pray you, come away to dinner.

SEGASTO. Then you will not tell me whether you have banished him, or no?

CLOWN. Why, I cannot say banishment, and you would give me a thousand pounds to say so.

SEGASTO. Why, you whoreson slave, have you forgotten that I sent you and another to drive away the shepherd.

CLOWN. What an ass are you; here's a stir indeed, here's message, arrant, banishment, and I cannot tell what.

SEGASTO. I pray you, sir, shall I know whether you have drove him away.

CLOWN. Faith, I think I have; and you will not believe me, ask my staff.

SEGASTO. Why, can thy staff tell?

CLOWN. Why, he was with me too.

SEGASTO. Then happy I, that have obtain'd my will.

CLOWN. And happier I, if you would go to dinner.

SEGASTO. Come, sirrah, follow me.

CLOWN. I warrant you, I will not lose an inch of you now you are going to dinner, I promise you. I thought [it] seven year, before I could get him away. [_Aside.] [Exeunt.

Enter_ AMADINE _sola_

AMADINE. God grant my long delay procures no harm, Nor this my tarrying frustrate my pretence. My Mucedorus surely stays for me, And thinks me over long. At length I come, My present promise to perform. Ah, what a thing is firm, unfeigned love! What is it which true love dares not attempt? My father he may make, but I must match; Segasto loves; but Amadine must like, Where likes her best; compulsion is a thrall. No, no, the hearty choice is all in all, The shepherd's virtue Amadine esteems. But what, methinks my shepherd is not come; I muse at that, the hour is sure at hand. Well, here I'll rest, till Mucedorus come. [_She sits her down.

Enter_ BREMO, _looking about; hastily [he] taketh hold of her_.

BREMO. A happy prey! now, Bremo, feed on flesh: Dainties, Bremo, dainties, thy hungry paunch to fill: Now glut thy greedy guts with lukewarm blood. Come, fight with me; I long to see thee dead.

AMADINE. How can she fight, that weapons cannot wield?

BREMO. What, canst not fight? Then lie thou down and die.

AMADINE. What, must I die?

BREMO. What needs these words? I thirst to suck thy blood.

AMADINE. Yet pity me, and let me live awhile.

BREMO. No pity I; I'll feed upon thy flesh, I'll tear thy body piecemeal joint from joint.

AMADINE. Ah, how I want my shepherd's company!

BREMO. I'll crush thy bones betwixt two oaken trees.

AMADINE. Haste, shepherd, haste, or else thou com'st too late.

BREMO. I'll suck the sweetness from thy marrow bones.

AMADINE. Ah, spare, ah, spare to shed my guiltless blood!

BREMO. With this my bat will I beat out Thy brains. Down, down, I say: Prostrate thyself upon the ground.

AMADINE. Then, Mucedorus, farewell, my hoped joys, farewell! Yea, farewell life, and welcome present death. [She kneels. To thee, O God, I yield my dying ghost.

BREMO. Now, Bremo, play thy part. How now, what sudden chance is this? My limbs do tremble, and my sinews shake; My unweak'ned arms have lost their former force. Ah, Bremo, Bremo! what a foil hast thou, That yet at no time ever wast afraid To dare the greatest gods to fight with thee, [He strikes. And now want strength for one down-driving blow? Ah, how my courage fails, when I should strike! Some new-come spirit abiding in my breast, Say'th, Spare her, Bremo; spare her, do not kill. Shall I[178] spare her, which never spared any? To it, Bremo, to it; essay[179] again. I cannot wield my weapons in my hand; Methinks I should not strike so fair a one, I think her beauty hath bewitch'd my force, Or else within me altered nature's course. Ay, woman, wilt thou live in woods with me?

AMADINE. Fain would I live, yet loth to live in woods.

BREMO. Thon shalt not choose; it shall be as I say; And therefore follow me. [_Exeunt.

Enter_ MUCEDORUS _solus_.

MUCEDORUS. It was my will an hour ago and more, As was my promise, for to make return; But other business hind'red my pretence. It is a world to see, when man appoints, And purposely one certain thing decrees, How many things may hinder his intent. What one would wish, the same is farthest off. But yet th'appointed time cannot be past, Nor hath her presence yet prevented[180] me. Well, here I'll stay, and expect the coming.

[They cry within, Hold him, stay him, hold!

MUCEDORUS. Some one or other is pursued, no doubt; Perhaps some search for me; 'tis good To doubt the worst, therefore I will be gone. [_Exit.

Cry within, Hold him, hold him! Enter_ MOUSE, _the Clown, with a pot_.

CLOWN. Hold him, hold him, hold him! here's a stir indeed. Here came hue after the crier, and I was set close at mother Nip's house, and there I call'd for three pots of ale, as 'tis the manner of us courtiers. Now, sirrah, I had taken the maidenhead of two of them—now, as I was lifting up the third to my mouth, there came, Hold him, hold him! Now I could not tell whom to catch hold on; but I am sure I caught one, perchance a may be in this pot. Well, I'll see. Mass, I cannot see him yet; well, I'll look a little further. Mass, he is a little slave, if a be here; why here's nobody. All this goes well yet; but if the old trot should come for her pot?—ay, marry, there's the matter. But I care not; I'll face her out, and call her old rusty, dusty, musty, fusty, crusty firebrand, and worse than all that, and so face her out of her pot. But soft! here she comes.

Enter the OLD WOMAN.

OLD WOMAN. Come on, you knave; where's my pot, you knave?

CLOWN. Go, look your pot; come not to me for your pot, 'twere good for you.

OLD WOMAN. Thou liest, thou knave; thou hast my pot.