A most pleasant Co
medie of
Mucedorus the Kings sonne of Valentia, and
Amadine, the kings daughter of Arragon.
Enter Comedie ioyfull with a garland of baies on her head.
WHy so? thus doe I hope to please:
Musicke reuiues, and mirth is tollerable.
Comedie play thy part, and please,
Mak merry them that coms to ioy with thee:
Ioy then good gentilles, I hope to make you laugh.
Sound foorth Bellonas siluer tuned strings.
Time fits vs well, the daie and place is ours.
Enter Enuie, his armes naked besmearde with bloud
En.
Nay staie minion, there lies a block.
What al on mirth; Ile interrupt your tale.
And mixe your musicke with a tragick end
•
Co.
What monstrous vgly hagge is this,
That dares comtrowle the pleasures of our will?
Vaunt churlish curre, besmearde with gorie bloud,
That seemst to check
〈…〉
And stifle the
〈…〉
Blush, monster blush, and post away with shame,
That seekest disturbance of a goddesse deedes.
En.
Post hence thy selfe, thou counterchecking trul,
I will possesse this habite
•
spite of thee
And gaine the glorie of thy wished porte,
Ile thunder musicke shall appale the nimphes,
And make them sheuer their clattering strings:
Flying for succour to their danes caues.
Sound drumes within and crie stab stab.
Hearken, thou shalt hear a noise
Shall fill the aire with a shrilling sound,
And thunder musicke to the gods aboue:
Mars shall himsel
•
e breathe downe
A peerelesse crowene vpon braue enuies head,
And raise his chiuall with a lasting fame
In this braue musicke Enuie takes delight,
Where I may see them wallow in there blood,
To spurne at armes
•
and legges quite shiuered off,
And heare the cries of many thousand slaine,
How likst thou this my
•
r
•
ll, this sport alone for mee
•
Co.
Vaunt bloodie cur
•
e, nur
•
t vp with tygers sapp,
That so dost seeke to quaile a womans minde,
Comedie is mild gentle, willing for to please,
And seekes to gaine the loue of all estates
•
Delighting in mi
•
th
•
mixt all with louely
•
ales
•
And bringeth things with
•
reble ioy to pas
•
e,
Thou bloodie, Enuious, disdainer of mens ioye,
Whose name is fraught with bloodie stratagemes,
D
•
lights in nothing but in spoy
•
e and dea
•
h,
Where
〈…〉
blood,
And
〈…〉
Yet vaile thy mind, reuenge thou not on mee,
A silly woman begs it at thy hands,
Giue me the leaue to vtter out my play,
Forbeare this place, I humblie craue thee hence,
And mixe not death amongst pleasing comedies,
That treats naught els but pleasure and delight.
If any sparke of humaine rests in thee,
Forbeare, be gon, tender the suite of mee.
En.
Why so I wil, forbearance shall be such
As tr
•
ble death shall crosse thee with despight,
And make thee mourne where most thou ioiest,
Turning thy mirth into a deadly dole:
Whirling thy pleasures with a peale of death,
And drench thy methodes in a sea of bloud:
This will I doe, thus shall I beare with thee
And more to vex thee with a deeper spite,
I will with th
•
eates of bloud begin thy play:
Fauoring thee with enuie and with hate.
Co.
Then vglie monster doe thy woorst,
I will defend them in despite of thee:
And thought thou thinkst with tragick fumes
To braue my play vnto my deepe disgrace.
I force it not, I scorne what thou canst doe
Ile grace it so, thy selfe shall it confesse:
From tragick stuffe to be a pleasant comedie
En.
Why then
〈◊〉
send thy actors forth
And I will crosse the first steps of their tread:
Making them feare the verie dart of death.
Co.
And Ile defend them mangre all thy spite
So vgly fiend frewell, tell time shall serue,
That we may meete to parle forthe beste
En.
Conten
•
C
•
medie, ile goe spread my branch,
And scattered blossomes from mine enuious tree.
Exit. Shall proue to monsters, spoiling of their ioyes. Enter Segasto runing and Amadine after him, being persued wit
•
a beare
Se.
Oh fly Madam, fly or els we art but dead.
Ama.
Help Segasto help, help swet Segasto or ele I die.
Segasto runnes away.
Alas madam, there is no way but flight,
Then hast and saue your selfe.
Ama.
Why then I die, ah helpe me in distresse,
Enter Mucedorus like a shepheard with a sworde drawne and a beares head in his h
•
nde.
Mu.
Stay Lady stay, and be no more dismaide,
That cruell beast most mercelesse and fell,
Which haue bereaued thousands of their liues,
Affrighted many with his hard pursues,
Prying from place to place to find his praie,
Prolonging thus his life by others death,
His carcasse now lies headlesse void of breth.
Ama.
That fowle deformed monster is he dead?
Mu.
Assure your selfe thereof, behould his head
•
Which if it please you Lady to accept,
With willing heart I yeeld it to your maiestie.
Ama.
Thankes worthy shepheard, thanks a thousaud times
This gift assure thy selfe contents me more,
Then greatest bountie of a mighty prince:
Although he were the monarch of the world.
Mu.
Most gracious goddesse, more then mortal wight,
Your heauenly hewe of right imports no lesse,
Most glad am I in that it was my chance,
To vndertake this enterprise in hand.
Which doth so greatly glad your princely minde
•
Ama.
No goddesse shepheard, but a mortall wight
A mortall wight destressed as thou seest:
My father heere is king of Arragon.
I Amadine his only daughter am:
And after him sole heire vnto the crowne.
Now where as it is my fathers will,
To mary me vnto Segasto,
On whose welth through fathers former vsury
Is knowen to be no lesse then woonderfull,
We both of custome oftentimes did vse,
Leauing the court to walke within the fieldes,
For recreation esecially the spring,
In that it yelds greate store of rare delights:
And passing further then our wonted walkes,
Scarse were entred within these lucklesse woods,
But right before vs downe a steepe fall hil
A monstrous vgly beare did hie him fast,
To meete vs both, I faint to tell the rest,
Good shepherd, but suppose the gastly lookes,
The hiddious feares, the thousant hunderd woes,
Which at this instant Amadine susteind.
Mu.
Yet worthy princes let thy sorrow cease,
And let this sight your former ioyes reuiue.
Ama.
Beleeue me shepheard so it doth no lesse.
Mu.
Long may they last vnto your hearts content.
But tell me Ladie what is become of him,
Segasto calld, what is become of him?
Ama.
I knowe not I, that knowe the powers diui
•••
But God graunt this that sweet Segasto liue.
Mu.
Yet heard harted he in such a case,
So cowardly to saue himselfe by flight:
And leaue so braue a princesse to the spoyle
Ama.
Well shephearde for thy worthy valour tried,
Endangering thy selfe to set me free:
Vnrecompensed sure thou shalt not be.
In court thy courage shalbe plainely knowne:
Throughout the Kingdome will I spread thy name,
To thy renowne and neuer dying fame:
And that thy courage may be better knowne.
Beare thou the head of this most monstrous beast
In open sight to euerie courtiers viewe
So will the king my father thee rewarde.
Come lets away, and guard me to the court.
Mu.
With all my heart.
Exeunt.
Enter Segasto solus.
Se.
When heapes of harmes do houer ouer head,
Tis time as then, some say to looke about,
And so ensuing harmes to choose the least:
But hard, yea haplesse is that wretchesse chaunce,
Lucklesse his lot and caytiffe like acourste,
At whose proceedings fortune euer frownes.
My selfe I meane most subiect vnto thrall,
For I the more I seeke to shun the worst:
The more by proofe I find my selfe accurst:
Ere whiles assaulted with an vgly beare,
Fayre Amadine in company all alone,
Forthwith by flight I thought to saue my selfe,
Leauing my Amadine vnto her shiftes:
For death it was for to resist the beare.
And death no lesse of Amadines harmes to heare.
Accursed I in lingring life thus long,
In leeuing thus each minute of an hower
Doth pierce my hart with dartes of thousand deathe
•
:
If she by flight her fury doe escape,
What will she thinke;
Will she not say; yea flatly to my face,
Accusing me of meere disloyaltie,
A trustie friend is tride time of neede:
But I when she in danger was of death
And needed me, and cried Segas
•
o helpe:
I turned my backe and quickly ran away.
Vnworthy I to beare this vitall breath:
But what, what needes these plaintes
If Amadine do liue then happie I,
Shee will in time forgiue and so forget,
Amadine is mercifull, not Iuno like.
In harmful hart to harbor hatred long.
Enter Mouse the Clowne running crying clubs.
Mouse.
Clubs, prongs, pitchfo
•
ks, billes, O helpe, a beare, a beare, a beare.
Se.
Still beares, and nothing else but beares.
Tell me sirra wher she is;
Clo.
O sir, she is runne downe the woods:
I see her wite head and her white belly.
Se.
Thou talkest of wonders, to tell me of white bears.
But sirra didst thou euer see any such;
Clo.
No faith I neuer sawe any such,
But I remember my fathers woordes,
Hee bad mee take he
•
de I was not caught with a white beare
Se.
A lamentable tale no dout.
Clo.
I tell you what sir as I was going a fielde to serue my fathers greate horse, & caried a bottly of hay vpon my head, now doe you see sir, I fast hudwinckt, that I could see nothing, perceiuing the beare comming, I threw my hay into the hedge and ran away.
Se.
What from nothing;
Clo.
I wa
•
rant you yes, I saw something, for there was tow loade of thornes besides my bottle of hay, and that made three.
Se.
But tell me sirra, the beare that thou didst see,
Did she not beare a bucket on her arme;
Clo.
Ha ha, ha, I neuer saw beare goe a milking in all my life.
But ha
•
k you sir, I did not looke so hie as her arme:
I saw nothing but her whit head, and her whit belly.
Se.
But tell me sirra, where doost thou dwell;
Clo.
Why, doe you not knowe mee.
Se.
Why no, how should I know thee,
Clo.
Why then you know no bodie, and you knowe not mee' I tell you sir I am the goodman
•
a
•
s son of the next parish ouer the hill.
Se.
Goodman rats son why whats thy name,
Clo.
why I am very neere kin vnto him.
Se.
I thinke so, but whats thy name?
Clo.
My name, I haue very pretie name Ile tel you what my name is: my name is Mouse,
Se.
vvhat plaine Monse.
Clo.
I, plaine mouse with out either welt or garde
•
But doe you hea
•
e sir I am but a very young mouse,
For my
•
aile is scarce growne out yet, looke you here
•
ls.
Se.
But I pray thee, who g
•
ue thee that name?
Clo.
Fayth
•
ir I know not that, but if you would faine
know, aske my fathers g
•
eate horse, for he hath bin halfe a yeare longer with my father then I haue.
Se.
This seemes to be a merrie fellow,
I care not if I take him home with me,
Mirth is a comfort to a troubled minde,
A merrie man, a merrie master makes.
How saist thou sirra, wilt thou dwell with me?
Clo.
Nay soft sir, tow words to a bargaine, praie you what occupation are you?
Se.
No occupation, I liue vpon my landes
•
Clo.
Your lands, a way, you are no maister for me, why doe you thinke that I am so m
•
d, to go s
•
ke my liuing in the lands amongst the stones, briars, and bushes, and teare my holy day appa
•
ell, not I by your leaue.
Se.
Why, I do not meane th
•
u shalt.
Clo.
How th
•
n?
Se.
Why thou shalt be my man, and waite vpon me at the court.
Clo.
Whats that?
Se.
Where the King lies.
Clo.
Whats that same King a man or woman?
Se.
A man as thou arte
•
Clo.
As I am, ha
•
ke you sir pray you what kin is he to good man king of our parish the church warden?
Se.
No kin to him, he is the King of the whole land.
Clo.
king of the land, I neuer see him.
Se.
If thou wilt dwel with me, thou shallt see him euerie day.
Clo.
shal I go home againe to be torne in peces with beares, no not I, I wil go home & put on a cleane shirt, and then goe drowne my selfe.
Se.
Thou shallt not need, if thou wilt dwell with me, thou shalt want nothing.
Clo.
Shal I not? then heares my hand, ile dwel with you, And harke you sir, now you haue entertained me, I wil tell you what I can doe, I can keepe my tougue from picking aud stealing, and my handes from lying and slaundering, I warrant you, as wel as euer you had man
•
in all your life.
Se.
Now will I to court with sorrowfull hart, rownded with doubts, if Amadine doe liue, then happy I: yea happie I if Amadine do
•
liue.
Ex
•
unt.
E
•
ter the King with a young prince prisoner, Amadine with C
•
llen and c
•
uns
•
llers
•
King
Now braue Lords, our wars are brought to end,
Our foes the foile and we in safetie rest,
It vs behoues to vse such clemencie in peace
•
As valour in the warre
•
It is as great honor to be bountifull at home,
As to be conquerers in the field.
There
•
ore my Lords the more to my conte
•
t,
Your liking, and your countries safegarde,
We are disposde in marriage for to giue
Our daughter to Lord Segasto heare,
Who shall succeede the diadem af
•
er me:
And raigue heereaft
•
r as I tofore haue done
Your sole and lawfull King of Arragon:
What say you Lordings, like you of my aduise
•
Col.
And please your Maiesty, we doe not onely alowe of your highnesse pleasure, but also vow fathfully in what we may to further it.
King.
Thankes good my Lords, if long Adr
•
stus li
•
e
Mee will at full requite your cur
•
esies.
Tremelio in recompence of thy late valour done,
Take vnto thee the Catalone a prince,
Latelie our prisoner taken in the warres
Be thou his keeper, his ransome shallbe thine,
Weel
•
thinke of it when leasure shall afforde:
Meanewhile doe vse him well, his father is a King.
Tre.
Thankes to your Maiestie, his vsage shalbe such,
As he therat shall thinke no cause to grutce.
Exeunt.
King
Then march we on to court, and rest our wearied limmes
But Collen, I haue a tale in secret kept for thee:
When thou shalt heare a watch woord from thy king,
Thinke then some waightie matter is at hand
That highlie shall concerne our state,
Then Collen looke thou be not farre from me
•
And for thy seruice thou to fore hast done,
Thy trueth and valour proude in euerie point,
I shall with bounties thee enlarge therefore:
So guard vs to the courte.
Col.
What so my soueraigne doth commaund me do
•
,
With willing mind I gladly yeeld consent
Exeunt.
Enter Segasto and the Clowne, with weapons about hi
•
Se.
Tel me sirra, how doe you like your weapons;
Clo.
O verie wel, verie wel, they keep my sides warme.
Se.
They keep the dogs form your shins very well doe they not;
Clo.
How, keep the dogs from my shins, I would scorne but my shins should keep the dogs from them.
Se.
Well
•
irra, leauing idle talke, tell me:
Dost thou know captaine Tremelioes chamber;
Clo.
I verie well, it hath a doore
Se.
I thinke so, for so hath euery chamber
•
But dost thou know the man.
Clo.
I forsooth he hath a nose on his face.
Se.
Why so ha
•
h euery on
•
Clo.
Tha
•
s more then I know.
Se.
But doest thou remember the captaine, that was heere with the king euen now, that brought the yong prince prisoner?
Clo.
O verie well.
Se.
Go vnto him and bid him come to me,
Tell him I haue a matter in secret to impart to him,
Clo.
I wil master, master whats his name?
Se.
Why captaine Tremelio.
Clo.
O the meale man, I knowe him verie well,
He brings meale euery satturday: but harke you master must I bid him come to you or must you come to him
Se.
No sir, he must come to me.
Clo.
Harke you master, hovv if he be not at home.
What shall I doe then?
Se.
Why then leaust worde with some of his folkes.
Clo.
Oh maister, if there be no bodie within,
I will leaue word with his dog.
Se.
Why can his dog speake
•
Clo.
I cannot tell, wherefore doth he keep his chamber els
•
Se.
To keepe out such knaues as thou art.
Clo.
Nay be ladie then go your selfe.
Se.
You will go sir, wil ye not;
Clo.
Yes marrie will I, O tis come to my head,
And a be not within, Ile bring his chamber to you.
Se.
What wilt thou plucke down the Kings house?
Clo.
Nay be ladie Ile knowe the price of it first.
Master it is such a hard name, I haue forgotten it againe I praie you tell me his name,
Se.
I tell thee captaine Tremelio.
Clo.
Oh captaine treble knaue, captaine treble knaue
Enter Trem
•
lio.
Tre.
How now sirra, doost thou call mee?
Clo.
You must come to my maister captain treble knaue
Tre.
My Lord Segasto. did you send for mee.
Se.
I did Tremel
•
o, sir
•
a about you
•
businesse.
Clo..
I marry, whats that can you te
•
le
Se.
No not well.
Clo.
Marrie then I can, straight to the kitchen dresser, to Iohn the cooke, and get me a good peece of beefe and brewis, and then to the buttery
•
atch to Thomas the butler, for a
••
c
•
e of beare, and there for an houre ileso be labour my selfe, therefore I pray you cal me not till you thinke I haue done, I pray you good mayster.
Se.
Wel
•
sir away
•
Tremelio this it is, thou knowest the valour of Segasto
Spred through all the kingdome of Arragon,
And such as hath found triumph and fauours,
Neuer daunted at any tyme, but now a shepherd,
Admired at in court for worthynesse.
And Segastoes honour layd a side.
My wil therefore is this, that thou dost find som meanes to worke the shepheardes death, I know thy streng
•
h sufficient to performe my desire, & thy loue no other wise then to reuenge my iniuries.
Tre.
It is not the frownes of a shepheard that Tremelio feares.
Therefore account it accomplished, what I take in hane
Se.
Thankes good Tremelio, and assure thy selfe,
What I promise that will I performe.
Tre.
Thankes my good Lord, and in good time
See where he commeth, stand by a while.
And you shall see me put in practise your intented, driftes.
Haue at thee swaine, if that I hit thee right.
Enter Mucedorus.
Mu.
Vild coward, so without cause to strike a man.
Turne coward turne, now strike and doe thy woorst.
Mucedorus killeth him.
Se.
Hould shepheard hould, spare him, kill him not,
ccursed villaine, tell me what hast thou done.
Ah Tremelio, trustie Tremelio, I sorrow for thy death,
And since that thou liuing, didst prooue faithfull to
Segasto, so Segasto now liuing shall honoure the dead corpes of Tremlio with reuenge.
Bloud thristy villaine, borne and bredde to mercilesse murther,
Tell me how durst thou be so bold.
As once to lay thy hands vpon the least of mine.
Assure thy selfe, thou shalt be vsd according to the law.
Mu.
Segasto cease, these threats are needlesse
Accuse not me of murther, that haue done nothing but in mine owne defence.
Se.
Nay shepheard reason not with me.
Ile manifest thy fact vnto the King:
Whose doome will be thy death as thou deserust,
What hoe, Mouse come away.
Clo.
Why hovv novv, vvhats the matter.
I thougt you would be calling before I had done.
Se.
Come helpe away with my friend.
Clo.
Why is he drunke, cannot he stand on his feet.
Se.
No, he is not drunke, he is slaine.
Clo.
Flaine, no by Ladie he is not flaine.
Se.
Hees kild I tell thee.
Clo.
What, doe you vse to kil your friends.
I will serue you no longer.
Se.
I tell thee the shepheard kild him.
Clo.
O did a so, but master, I will haue al his appa
•
el
•
if I carry him away.
Se.
Why so thou shalt.
Clo.
Come then I will healpe, mas master I thinke his mother song looby to him he is so heauie.
Exeunt.
Mu.
behold the fickle state of man, alwaies mutable, neuer at one.
Somtimes we feed on fancies with the sweete of our desires.
Somtimes againe vve feele the heat of extreame miserie.
Novv am I infauour about the court and countrie.
To morrovv those fauours vvill turne to frovvnes,
To daie I liue reuenged on my foe,
To morrovv I die, my foe reuenged on me,
Exeu
•
t.
Enter Bremo a wildm
•
n.
Bre.
No passengers this morning, vvhat not one.
A chance that seldome doth befall.
What not one
•
then lie thou there,
And rest thyselfe til I haue further neede:
Novv Bremo sith thy leasure so affords.
An endlesse th
•
ng, vvho knovves not Bremoes strength
Who like a king commander vvithin these vvoods,
The beare, the boare, da
•
es not abide my sight,
But hastes away to saue themselues by flight:
The christall waters in the bubbling brookes,
When I come by doth swiftly slide away,
And claps themselues in closets vnder bankes,
Afraide to looke bold Bremo in the face:
The aged okes at Bremoes breath doe bowe,
And all things els are still at my commaund,
Els What would I?
Rent them in peeces and plucke them from the earth,
And each waie els I would reuenge my selfe,
Why who comes heere with whome I dare not fight,
Who fights with me & doth not die the death; not on:
What fauour shewes this sturdie sticke to those,
That heere within these woods are combataines with me?
Why death and nothing else but present death,
With restlesse rage I wander through these woods,
No creature heere but fe
•
reth Bremoes force,
Man, woman, child, beast and bird,
And euery thing that doth approch my sight,
Ar
•
fo
•
st to fall if Bremo once but frowne,
Come cudgel come, my partner in my spoiles,
For heere I see this daie it will not be,
But when it falles that I encounter anie,
One pa
•
suffised for to worke my wil.
What comes not one? then lets begon,
A time vvill serue vvhen vve shal better speed.
Exit.
Enter the King, Seg
•
sto, the Shepheard and the Clowne with others.
King.
Shephard, thou hast heard thine accusers,
Murther is laid to thy charge,
What canst thou say, thou hast deserued death;
Mu.
Dread soueraigne, I must needes confesse,
I slewe this captaine in mine owne defence
•
Not of any malice but by chance,
But mine accuser hath a further meaning.
Se.
woords will not heere preuaile,
I seek for i
•
stice, & iustice craues his death.
King.
Shepheard thine owne confession hath condemned thee.
Sirra take him away, & doe him to execu
•
ion straight.
Clo.
So hee shall I warrant him, but doe you heare maister King, he is kin to a monkie, his necke is bigger then is head.
Se.
Com sirra away with him, and hang him about the middle.
Clo.
Yes forsooth I warrant you, come on sir, a so like a sheepe biter a lookes.
Enter Amadine and a boie with a beares head
Ama.
Dread soueraigne and welbeloued sire.
On bended kees I craue the life of this condemned shepheard, which heertofore preserued the life of thy sometime distressed daughter.
K. preserued the life of my somtime distressed daughter
How can that be; I neuer knew the time
Whrein thou wast dist
•
est, I neuer knew the daie
But that I haue maintained thy state,
As best beseemd the daughter of a king
I neuer saw the shepheard vntil now,
Hovv comes it then that he preserud thy life?
Ama.
Once vvalkeing vvith Segasto in the woods,
Further then our accustomed maner vvas,
Right before vs downe a steepe fal hill,
A monstrous vgly beare doth hie him fast
To meete vs both, now whether this bee trewe,
I referre it to the cerdit of Segasto.
Se.
Most trew and like your maiestie.
King.
How then?
Ama.
The beare being eager to obtaine his praie;
Made forward to vs with an open mouth,
As if he meant to swallow vs both at once,
The sight whereof did make vs both to dread,
But speciallie your daughter Amadine,
W
•
o for I saw no succour incident
But in Segastoes valour, I grew desperate,
And he most cowardlike began to fly.
Left me distrest to be deuourd of him,
How say you Segasto is it not true?
K.
His silence verifies it to be true, what then;
Ama.
Then I amasded stressed all alone,
Did hie me fast to scape that vglie beare,
But all in vaine, for why he reached after me,
And hardly I did oft escape his pawes,
Till at the length this shepheard came,
And brought to me his head.
Come hither boy, loe heere it is, which I present vnto your maiestie.
Ki.
The slaught
•
r o
•
this beare deserues great
•
ame.
Se.
The slaughter of a man des
•
rues greate blame.
King.
Indeed occasion oftentimes so falles out.
Se.
Tremelio in the wars. O King preserued thee,
Ama.
The shepheard in the woods o king preserued me.
S.
Tremelio fought when many men did yeeld.
Ama.
So would the shepheard had he bin in field
Clo.
So would my maister, had he not r
•
n away
•
S
•
.
Tremelioes force saued thousands from the
•
oe
•
Ama.
The shepheards force haue saued thousand, more.
Clo.
Aye shipstickes, nothing else.
King.
Segasto cease to accuse the shepheard,
His woorthynesse deserues a recompence,
All we are bound to doe the shepheard good:
Shepheard, whereas it was my sentence, thou shouldst die
•
So shall my sentence stand, for thou shalt die.
Se.
Thankes to your maistie.
King.
But soft Segasto, not for this offence,
Long maist thou liue, and when the sisters shal decree
To cut in twaine the twisted thread of life,
Then let him die, for this I set thee free,
And for thy valour I will honour thee.
Mu.
Thankes to your maiestie
•
King.
Come daughter let vs now departe, to honour the worthy valour of the shepheard with our rewards.
Exe
•
nt
Clo.
O mayster heare you, you haue made a freshe hand now you would be
•
lowe you, why what will you doe nowe? you haue lost me a good occupation by the meanes, Faith maister now I cannot hang the shephe
•
rd, I pray you let me take
•
the paines to hang you, it is but halfe an houres exercise.
Se.
You are still in your knauery, but
•
ith I cannot haue his life I will procure his banishment for euer. Come on
•
irra.
Clo,
Yes forsooth I come laugh at him I pray you.
Exeunt
Enter Mucedorus solas.
Mu.
From Amadine and from her fathers court,
With gold and siluer and vvith rich rewardes,
Flowing from t
•
e bankes of golden tresuries,
More may I boast and say but I,
Was neuer shepheard in such dignitie,
Enter the messengers and the clowne.
Mess.
All hayle worthy shepheard.
Clo.
All rayne lowsie shepheard.
Mu.
Welcome my frindes, from whence come you;
Mess.
The King and Amadine greetes thee well,
And after greetings done, bids thee depart the court, shepheard begon.
Clo.
Shepheard take lawe legs, flye away shepheard
Mu.
Whose woordes are these? came these from Amadine?
Mess.
Aye from Amadine.
Clo.
Aye from Amladine.
Mu.
Ah luckelesse fortune worse then Phaetons tale,
My former blesse is now become my bale.
Clo.
What w
•
lt thou poyson thy selfe?
Mu.
My former heauen is now become my hell.
Clo.
The worst ale house that I euer came in, in al my life.
Mu.
What shall I doe.
Clo.
Euen goe hang thy selfe halfe an nower.
Mu.
Can Amadine so churelishly commaund.
To banish the shepheard from her Fathers court?
Mess.
What should shepheardes doe in the court.
Clo.
What should shepherrdes doe amongst vs, haue we not Lordes inough on vs in the courte?
Mu.
Why shepheardes are men, and kinges are no more.
Mess.
Shephe
•
rdes are men and maisters ouer their flocke
Clo.
Thats a lie who payes them their wages the
•
?
Mes.
Well you are alwayes interrupting of me,
But you are best looke to him least you hang for him when he is gone.
Exit.
The Clowne sings.
Clo.
And you shall hang for companie,
For leauing me alone.
Shepheard stand foorth and heare thy sentence,
Shepheard begone within three dayes in payne of,
My displeasure, shepheard begon, shepheard begon, begon, begon, begon, shepheard, shepheard, shepheard
Exit.
Mu.
And must I goe, and must I needs depart?
Ye goodly groues partakers of my songes
In tyme tofore when fortune did not frowne,
Powre foorth your plaints and waile a while with me
And thou bright sunne my comfort in the cold,
Hide, hide thy face and leaue me comfortlesse,
Ye holsome hearbes, and sweete smelling sauours,
Ye each thing els prolonging life of man,
Change, change your wonted course,
That
•
anting your aide, in woefull sort may die,
Enter Amadine.
Ama.
Arinea if any body aske for mee,
Make some excuse till I returne.
Ari.
What and Segasto call.
Ama.
Do thou the like to him, I mean not to stay long
•
Mu.
This voyce so sweet my pining spirites reuiues
Ama.
Shepheard, wel met tel me how thou doest.
Mu.
I linger life yet wish for speedy death.
Ama.
Shepheard, although thy banishment already be
decreed and all agaynst thy will, yet Amadine.
Mu.
Ah Amadine, to heare of banishment is death,
I double death to me, but since I must depart, one thing I craue.
Ama.
Say on with all my heart.
Mu.
That in absence either farre or neere.
You honoor me as seruant with your name.
Ama.
Not so.
Mu.
And vvhy?
Ama.
I honour thee as soueraigne with my heart.
Mu.
A shepheard and a soueraigne nothing like.
Ama.
Yet like enough where there is no dislike.
Mu.
Yet great dislike or els no banishment.
Ama.
Shepheard, it is onely Segasto that procures thy banishment.
Mu.
Vnworthy wightes are most in ielosie.
Ama.
Would God they would freethe from banishment, or likewise bamish mee.
Mu.
Amen say I, to haue your companie.
Ama.
Well shepheard, sith thou sufferest this for my sake, with thee in exile also let me liue.
On this condition shepheard thou canst loue.
Mu.
No longer loue no longer let me liue.
Ama.
O flat I loued one indeed, now loue I none but onely thee.
Mu.
Thankes worthie princes I borne likewise,
Yet smother vp the blast,
I dare not promise what I may performe,
Ama.
Well shepheard, harke what I shall say,
I will returne vnto my Fathers court.
Therefore to prouide me of such nescessaries,
As for our iourney I shall thinke most fit,
This being done I will returne to thee,
Doe thou therefore appoint the place where we may meete.
Mu.
Downe in the valley where I slue the beare,
And there doth grow a
•
aire broade branched beach,
That ouershades a well, so who comes first
Let them abid the happie meeting of vs both.
How like you this?
Ama.
I like i
•
very wel.
Mu.
Now if you please you may appoint the time,
Ama.
Full three hours hence God willing, I will returne.
Mu.
The thankes that paris gaue the grecian queene the like doth Mucedorns yeeld.
Ama.
Then Mucedorus forthreee howres farewell.
Exit
Mu.
Your departure ladie breedes a priuie paine.
Exit.
E
•
ter Segastosolus.
Se.
Tis well Segasto that thou h
•
st thy will,
Should such a shhephard, such a simple swaine
As he, eclips thy credite
•
amous through the court.
No ply Segasto ply; let it not in Arragon be saide
•
A shephard hath Segatoes honour wonne.
Enter Mouse the clowne cal
•
ing his maister
Clo.
Wha
•
hoe maister will you come away;
Se.
Will you come hither I pray you, whats the matter?
Clo.
Why, is it not past a leauen a clock.
Se.
How then sir.
Clo.
I pray you com away to dinner:
Se.
I pray you come hither.
Clo.
Heres such a doe with you, wil you neuer come.
Se.
I pray you sir what newes of the message I sente you about,
Clo.
I tell you all the mess
•
s be on the table alreadie,
There wants not so much as a messe of mustard halfe an novver agoe.
Se.
Come sir, your minde is all vpon your belly.
You haue forgotten vvhat I did bid you doe,
Clo.
Faith I knovve nothing, but you bad me goe to breakefast.
Se.
Was that all;
Clo.
Faith I haue forgotten it, the verie sent of the meate made me hath forget it quite.
Se.
You haue forgotten the arrant I bid you doe.
Clo.
What arrant, an arrant knaue, or arrant vvhore;
Se.
Why thou knaue, did I not bid thee banish the shepheard.
Clo.
O the shephards bastard.
Se.
I tell thee the shepheardes banishment.
Clo.
I tel you the shepheards bastard shalbe vvel kept ile looke to it my
•
elfe else, but I pray you come avvay to dinner.
Se.
Then you vvil not tell me vvhether you haue banished him or noe.
Clo.
Why I cannot say banishment and you vvould giue me a thousand pounds to say so,
Se.
Why you horson slaue, haue you forgotten, that
I sent you, and another to driue avvay the shephard.
Clo
•
What an asse are you
•
heers a sturre in dee
•
de heeres message, arrant, banishment, and I cannot tell what.
Se.
I pray you sir, shall I knovv vvhether you haue droue him avvay.
Clo.
Faith I thinke I haue, and you vvill not beleeue me aske my stafe.
Se.
Why can thy staffe tell.
Why he vvas vvith me to.
Se.
Then happie I that haue obtaind my will.
Clo.
And happier I, if you would goe to dinner.
Se.
Come sirra, follow me.
Clo.
I warrant you I will not loose an inch of you now you are going to dinner, I promise you I thought seauen yeare before I could get him away
•
Exeunt.
Enter Amadine sola,
Ama.
God grant my long delaie procures no harme
Nor this my tarring frustrate my pretence,
My Mucedorus surelie staies for me,
And thinks me ouer long, at length I come
My present promise to performe:
Ah what a thing is firme vnfained loue,
What is i
•
which t
•
ue loue dares not tempt
My fat
•
er he may make bu
•
I must match,
Segasto l
•
ues b
•
t Amadine must like,
Whe
•
e likes he
•
best c
•
mpulsion is a thrall,
No, no, the heartie choise is all in all,
The shephards vertue Amadine esteemes.
But what me thinks my shephard is not come?
I muse at that, the hower is sure at hande,
Well here ile rest till Mucedorus come.
Shee sit
•
her downe.
Enter Bremo looking about, hastily taketh hould of her.
Bremo.
A hapie pray, now Bremo feede on flesh,
Dainties Bremo dainties thy hungry panch to fill,
Now glut thy greedie guts with luke warme blood,
Come fight with me, I long to see thee dead.
Ama
How can she fight that weapons cannot weeld?
Bre:
What canst not fight? then lie thou downe and die.
Ama.
What must I die?
Bre.
W
•
at needes these words. I thirst to sucke thy bloud
Ama.
Yet pittie me and let me liue a while.
Bre.
No pittie I, ile feed vpon thy flesh,
Ile teare thy bodie peecemeale ioynt from ioynt.
Ama.
Ah now I want my shephards company.
Bre.
ile crush thy bones betwixt tow oken trees.
Ama,
Hast shephard hast or else thon comst to lat.
Bre.
ile sucke the sweetnes from thy marie bones.
Ama.
Ah spare ah spare to shed my guiltlesse blood
Bre.
With this my bat will I beate out thy braines
Down, down I say, prostrate thy selfe vpon the ground
Ama,
Then Mucedorus farevvel
•
my hopedioi
•
s farevvel.
Yea farevvell life, and vvelcome present death,
Shee kn
•
eles.
To thee O God I yeeld my dying ghost.
Bre.
Novv Bremo play thy part,
Hovv novv vvhat sudden chaunce is this.
My limmes do tremble and my s
•
evves shake
My vnvveakned armes haue lost their former force:
Ah Bremo, Bremo, vvhat a foyle hast thou,
That yet at no time euer vvast afraide
To dare the greatest gods to fi
•
ght vvith thee,
he strikes
And novv vva
•
tstrength for one dovvne driuing blovv
Ah hovv my courage failes vvhen I should strike,
Some newe come spirit abiding in my breast,
Shall I spare her Bremo, spare her, do not kill,
Sayth spare her which neuer spar
•
dany?
To it Bremo to it, say againe.
I cannot weeld my weapons in my hand,
Me thi
•
kes I should not str
•
k so faire a one,
I thinke her beawtie hath bewitcht my sorce
Or else with in me altered natures course,
ay woman, wilt thou liue in woods with me;
Ama,
Faine would I liue, yet loth to liue in woodes,
Bre.
Thou shalt not chuse, it shalbe as I say & the
•
efore follow me.
Exit.
Enter Mucedorus solus.
Mu.
It was my wil an hower a goe and more,
As was my promise for to make returne,
But other busines hindred my pretence.
It is a world to s
•
e when man appoints,
And purposelie one ce
•
taine thing decrees
How manie things may hinder his inten
•
.
What once would wish the same is farthest off:
But yet thappoynted time cannot be past,
Nor hath her pres
•
nce yet preuented wee,
Well heere ile s
•
aie, and expect her comming.
They crie within, hould him, staie him, holde
Mu.
Some one or oth
•
r is pursued no doubt
Perhaps some search for me, tis good to doubt the worst, there
•
ore ile begone.
Exit.
Crie within hold him, hold him, Enter Mouse the Clowne with a pot.
Clo.
Hold him, hold him hold him, heers a stur in deed
Heere came hewe a
•
ter the crier, and I was set close
At mother Nips house, and there I calde for three
Pots of ale, as tis the manner o
•
vs courtiers, now sirra,
I had taken the maiden head of tow of them.
Now as I was lifting vp the third to my mouth, there came hold him, hold him, now I coulde not tell whome to catch hold on, but I am sure I caught one perchance a maie be in this pot, well ile see, mas I cannot see him yet, well ile looke a little
•
urther, mas he is a little slaue if a be heere, why heers no bodie, al this goes well yet: but if the olde trot shoulde come for her pot, I marrie theres the matter but I care not, ile face her out, and cal her ould rustie dustie mustie
•
ustie crustkie firebran, and worse then al that, and so face her
out of her pot: but softe heere she comes.
Enter the ould woman.
Old wo.
Come on you knawe wheres my pot you knaue?
Clo.
Goe looke your pot, come not to me for your pot twe
•
e good for you.
Old.
Thou liest thou knaue thou hast my pot
•
Clo.
You lie and you say it, I your pot, I know what ile say
Old.
Why what wilt thou say.
Clo.
But say I haue him and thou darste,
Olde.
VVhy thou knaue. thou hast not onelie my pot but my drinke vnpaide for.
Clo.
You lie like an old I will not say whore.
Old,
dost thou cal me whore, ile cap thee my for pot.
Clo.
Cap me & thou darest, searce me whether I haue it or no.
Shee searcheth him, and he drinketh ouer her head and casts downe the pot, she stumbleth at it, then they fal together by the eares, she takes her pot and goes out. Exit.
Enter Segasto
Se.
How now sirra, whats the matter;
Clo.
Oh flies maister flies.
Se
•
Flies where are they?
Clo.
Oh heere maister, all about your face.
Se.
Why thou liest I think thou art mad.
Clo.
Why maister, I haue kild a duncart ful at the least
Se.
Go to sirra, leauing this idel talke giue eare to me.
Clo.
How, giue you one of my eares? not & you were ten maisters.
Se.
Why sir I bid you giue eare to my wordes,
Clo
I tell you I will no be made a curtall for no mans pleasure
Se.
I tell thee attend what I say goe thy waies straight and reare the whole towne.
Clo.
How reare the towne euen goe your selfe, it is more then I can doe, why doe you thinke I can reare a towne, that can scarse reare a pot of ale to my heade? I should reare a towne should I not;
Se,
Go to the cunstable and make a priuie search, for the shephard is runne away with the Kings daughter.
Clo.
How? is the shepheard run away with the kin
•
s daughter. or is the kings daughter runne away with the shepheard.
Se.
I cannot tell, but they are both gon together
Clo.
What a foole is she to runne away with the shepheard, why I thinke I am a litle hansomer man then the shepheard my selfe, but tel me maister, must I make a priuie search, or search in the priuie;
Se.
why dost thou thinke they will be there;
Clo.
I cannot tell.
Se,
Well then search euerie where. leaue no place vnsearched for them.
Exit.
Col.
Oh now am I in office, uow wil I to that old firbrāds house & wil not leaue one place vnsearched, nay ile to her ale stand & drink as long as I can stand, & when I haue done ile let out al the rest, to se if he be not hid in the barrel, & I find him not there, ile to the cubord, ile not leaue one corner of her house vnsearched, ye faith ye old crust I wilbe with you now.
Exit.
Enter Mucedorus to disguise himselfe.
Mu.
Now Mucedorns whither wilt thou goe,
Home to thy father to thy natiue soile,
Or trie some long abode within these woods;
Well I will hence depart and hie me home,
What hie me home said I? that may not be.
In Amadine rests my felicitie
Then Mucedorus do as thou didst decree,
Attire thee hermite like, within these grouees,
Walke often to the be
•
ch and view the well.
Make settles th
•
re and seate thy s
•
lfe thereon,
And when thou feelest thy selfe to be a thrist,
Then drinke a heartie draught to Amadine,
No doubt she thinkes on thee,
And wil one day com
•
pleg thee at this we
•
l
•
Come habit thou art fit fo
•
me,
he disguiseth himselfe:
No shepheard now, a hermit I must be:
Me thinkes this fits me verie wel
•
,
Now must I learne to beare a walking staffe,
And exercise some grauitie with
•
ll.
Enter the Clowne.
Clo.
Heers throw the wods, and throw the wods, to looke out a shepheard & a stray kings daugter, but
•
o
•
te who haue we heere, what art thou?
Mu.
I am an hermit.
Clo.
An
•
emmet, I neuer saw such big emmet in all my life before.
Mu.
I tel you sir I am an hermit, one that leads a solitarie life within these woods.
Clo.
O I know the now, thou art her that eates vp al the hips and hawes, we could not haue one peece of fat bacon for thee al this yeare.
Mu.
Thou dost mistake me, but I pray thee tell mee what dost thou seeke in these wood?
Clo.
What doe I seeke, for a stray Kings daughter runne away with a shephard:
Mu.
A stray Kings daught
•
r runne away with a sh
•
pheaarde. Wherefore canst thou tell?
Clo.
Yes that I can, tis this, my maister and Amadins walking one day abrod, nearer to these woods then they wete vsed, about what I can not tell, but tovvarde
them comes running a greate beare, now my maister he plaide the man and runne away, & Amadine crying after him: now sir comes me a shepheard & strikes off the b
•
ares head, now whether the bear where dead before or no I cannot tell for bring twentie b
•
ars before me and binde their hands & feete and ile kil them al: now euer
•
ince Amadine hath bin in loue with the sheph
•
ard, and for good wil shees euen runne away with the shepheard.
Mu.
What manner of man was a, canst describe him vnto mee;
Clo.
Scrib h
•
m aye I war
•
ant you that I can, a was a litt
•
l, low, broad, tall, narrow, big wel fauoured fe
•
low, a ie
•
kin of whit cloath, and buttons of the same cloath
Mu.
Thou discr
•
b
•
st him wel, but if I chaunce to se any suche pray you wher sh
•
l I find you, or whats your name
Cl
•
.
My name is called maister mouse,
Mu.
Oh m
•
ister mouse, I pray you what of
•
ice might you
•
e
•
r
•
in the
•
ourt?
Cl
•
.
M
•
rry sir I am a
•
usher of the stable.
Mu.
O vsher of the table-
Clo.
Nay I say rusher and ile prooue mine office good,
•
or looke sir when any coms f
•
om vnder
•
he s
•
a or so, and a dog chance to blow his nose backewarde, then with a whip I giue him the good time of the day, and strawe rushes presently, therefore I am a rusher, a hie off
•
ce I promise ye.
Mu.
But where shall I find you in the Court
•
?
Clo.
Why where it is best being, ei
•
her in he
•
itching a eating or in the butterie drinking: but i
•
you come I will prouide for th
•
e a pe
•
ce of beefe & brew is knockle d
•
epe in
•
at, pray you take paines remember maister mouse.
Exit.
Mu.
Ay sir, I warrant I will not forget you.
Ah Amadine, what should become of the.
whither shouldst thou go so long vnknowne.
with watch and warde eche passage is beset,
So that she cannot long escape vnknowne:
Doubtlesse she hath lost her
•
elfe within these woods out
And wandring too aud fro she seekes the vvell,
Which yet she cannot finde, therefore vvill I seck he
•
s,
Exit.
Euter Bremo and Amadine,
Bre
•
Amadine, hovv like you Br
•
mo & his vvoodes?
Ama.
As like the vvoods of Bremoes crueltie,
Though I vvere dombe and could not ansvver him,
The beastes themselues would with relenting teares
Bewaile thy sauage and vnhumaine deedes.
Bre.
My loue, why dost thou murmur to thy selfe?
Speake lowder, for thy Bremo heares thee not.
Ama.
My Bremo, no the shepheard is my loue.
Bre.
Haue I not saued thee from sudden death,
Giuing thee leaue to liue that thou mightst loue?
And dost thou whet me on to crueltie;
Come kisse me swe
•
e for all my fauours past.
Am.
I may not Bremo and therefore pardon me.
Bre.
See how shee flings away from me;
I will follow and giue a rend to her,
Denie my loue, ah worme of beautie
I wil chastice the
•
com, com, prepare thy head vpon the block
Ama.
Oh spare me Bremo loue should limit life,
Not to be made a murderer of him selfe
If thou wilt glut thy louing heart with blood,
Encounter with the lion or the beare,
And a like wolfe pray not vpon a lambe.
Bre.
Why then dost thou repine at me?
If thou wilt loue me thou shalt be my que
•
ne,
I will crowne thee with a complet made of Iuorie,
And make the rose and lilly wait on thee,
Ile
•
end the burley braunches from the oke,
To shadow thee from buring sunne.
The trees shall spred themselues where thou dost go,
And as they spread, ile trace along with thee,
Ama.
You may, for who but you?
Bre:
Thou shalt bee
•
ed with quailes and partridges
With blacke birds, larkes, thrushes and nightingales.
Thy d
•
inke shall bee goates milke and christal water,
Distilled from the fountaines & the clearest springs.
And all the dainties that the woods afforde.
Ile fre
•
ly giue thee to obtaine thy loue.
Ama.
You may, for who but you?
Bre.
The day ile spend to recreate my loue,
With all the plea
•
u
•
es that I can deuise,
An
•
〈…〉
hy bedfellow,
An
〈…〉
thee in mine armes.
Ama.
〈…〉
,
•
o may not you.
Bre.
The satyres & the woodnimphs shal attend on the
And lull thee a sleepe with musickes sounde,
And in the morning when thou dost awake
The lark shall sing good morne to my queene,
And whilst he singes ile kisse my Amadine.
Ama.
You may, for who but you.
Br.
When thou art vp, the wood lanes shalbe strawed
With violets, cowslips and swete marigolds.
For thee to trampel and to trace vpon,
And I will teach thee how to kill the deare,
To chase the hart and how to rowse the roe
•
If thou wilt liue to loue and honour mee.
Ama.
You may for who but you?
Enter Mucedorus.
Bre.
Welcomd sir, an howre ago I lookt for such a gest
Be merrie wench, weele haue a frollike feast,
Heeres flesh inough for to suffise vs both,
Staie sirra, wilt thou fight or dost thou yeel to die?
Mu.
I want a weapon, how can I fight?
Bre.
Thou wants a weapon, why then thou yeelst to die.
Mu.
I say not so, I doe not yeeld to die.
Bre:
Thou shalt not choose, I long to see thee dead
Ama:
Yet
•
pare him Bremo spare him
Bre:
A way, I say, I will not spare him.
Mu.
Yet giue me leaue to speake.
Bre,
Thou shalt not speake.
Ama.
Yet giue him leaue to speake for my sake.
Bre:
Speake on, but be not ouer long.
Mu
•
In time of yore when men like brutish beasts
•
Did lead their liues in loathsom c
•
lles and woodes
And wholy gaue them selues to wi
•
lesse will,
A rude vnruly rout, then man to man became
A present praie, then might preuailed,
The weakst went to walles,
Right was vnknowen, for wrong was all in all
•
As men thus liued in his great outrage,
Behould one Orpheus came as poets tell,
And them `from rudenes vnto reason brought,
Who led by reasonson some forsooke the woods,
Insteade of ca
•
es
•
hey built them castles strong,
Citties and townes were founded by
•
hem then,
Glad wrethey, they found such ease,
And in the end they grew to perfect amitie
Waying their former wickednesse,
They tearmd the time wherein they liued then
A golden age, a goodly golden age.
Now Bremo, for so I heare thee called.
If men which liued tofo
•
e as thou dost now,
Wilie in wood, addicted al
•
to spoile,
Returned were by worthy Orpheus meanes,
Let me like Orpheus cause thee to returne
From murder, bloudshed and like cru
•
ltie,
What should we fight be
•
or we haue a cause
No, lets liue and loue together faithfully.
Ile fight for thee.
Bre,
Fight forme or die, or fight or els thou diest.
Ama.
hold Bremo hold,
Bre,
Away I say, thou troublest mee,
Ama
•
You promised me to make me your queenne.
Bre.
I did, I meane no less.
Ama.
You promised that I should haue my wil,
Bre.,
I did I meane no lesse.
Ama.
Then saue this hermits life, for he may saue vs both:
B.
A thy request ile spare him, but neuer any after him
Say hermit what canst thou doe?
Mu.
Ile waite on thee, somtime vpon the queene, such sreuice shalt thou shortly haue as Bremo neuer had.
Exune
Enter Segasto, the Clowne and Rumbelo.
Se.
Come sirs what shall I neuer haue you finde out Amadine and the shepheard)
Clo.
And I haue bin through the woods, and through the woods, and could see nothing but an emet.
R.
Why I see thousand emets, thou meanest a little one,
Clo.
Nay that emet that I saw was bigger then thou art
R.
Bigger then I what a foole haue you to your man, I pray you maister turne him away?
Se.
But dost thou hea
•
e, was he
•
ot a man.
Clo.
thinke he was, for he saide he did lead a saltseller life about the woods.
Se.
Th
•
n wouldest say a solitarie li
•
e about the woods
Clo.
I thinke it was so indeed
•
R.
I thought what a foole thou art.
Clo.
Thou art a wise man, why he did nothing but sleepe since he went
Se.
But tell me Mouse, how did he goe;
Clo.
In a whit gowne and a whit hat on his head, and a staffe in his hande.
Se.
I thought so, it was a he
•
mit that walked a solita
•
ie life in the woods.
Se.
Well, get you to dinner, and after neuer leaue seeking til you bring some newes of them, or ile hang you both.
Exit.
Clo.
How now Rombelo, what shall we do now;
R.
Faith ile home to dinner, and afterwarde to sleep
•
Clo.
Why then thou wilt be hanged.
R.
Faith
•
care not, for I know I shal neuer f
•
nd them wel ile once more abroad, & if I cannot find them, ile neuer come home againe.
Clo.
I tel thee what Rombelo, thou shal
•
go in at one end of the wood and I at the other, and wee wil meete both together at the midst.
R.
Content, lets awaie to dinner
•
Exeunt.
Enter Mucedorus solus.
Mu
•
Vnknowne to any heere within these woods
With bloodie Bremo do I lead my life,
The monster he doth murther all he meets,
He spareth none and none doth him escape,
Who would continue, vvho but onely I
In such a cruell cutthroates company.
Yet Amadine is there hovv can I choose:
Ah sillie soule hovv often times she sits
And sighes, and cals come shepheard come,
Svveete Mucedorus, come and set me free,
When Mucedorus pesent standes herby:
But here she comes, vvhat nevves faire Ladie as you vvalke. these vvoods.
Enter Amadine.
Ama.
Ah hermit, none but bad & such as thou knovvest.
Mu.
Hovv doe you like your Bremo and his vvoods;
Ama.
Not my Bremo nor his Bremo vvoods;
Mu.
And vvhy, not yours, me thinks he loues you vvel
Ama.
I like him not, his loue to me is nothing vvroth
Mu.
Ladie, in this methinkes you offer vvrong,
To hate the man that euer loues you best.
Ama.
Ah hermit, I take no, pleasure in his loue.
Neither yet doth Bremo like me best.
Mu.
pardon my boldnes fai
•
e ladie, sith vve both
May safely talke novv out of Bremos sight,
Vnfould to me if so you please, the full discourse
Hovv, vvhen and vvhy you came into these vvoods,
And fell into this blodie burchers hands.
Ama.
Hermit I vvil, of late a vvorthie shepheard I did loue you.
Mu.
A shephard lady, sure a man vnfit to match vvith
Ama,
Hermit this is true, and vvhen vve had.
Mu.,
Staie there, the vvild men comes
Referre the rest vntill another time.
Enter Bremo.
What secret tale is this, vvhat vvhispering haue vvee heere;
Villaine I charge the tell thy tale againe,
Mu.
I needes I must, loe here it is againe,
When as vve both had lost the sight of thee
It greeud vs both, but specially thy queene,
Who in thy absence euer feares the vvorst,
Least some misehance befal your royrll grace.
Shall my sweete
•
Bremo wander through the woods.
To
•
le to and fro for to redresse my want,
Hazard his life and all to cherishe me,
I like not this quoth she
And thereupon craude to know of me
If I coulde teach her handle weapons well.
My aunswe
•
h was I had small skill therein,
But gladmost mightie king to learne of thee.
And this was all.
Bre.
Whast so, none can dislike of this
•
Ile teach you both to fight, but first my queene begin,
Here take this weapon, se
•
how thou canst vse it.
Ama.
This is to big, I cannot weeld it in my arme.
Bre
•
Ist so, weele haue a knotty crabtree st
•
ffe for thee:
But sirra tell me, what saist thou
•
Mu.
With all my heart I willing am to learne.
Bre.
Then take my stafe & see how canst weeld it.
Mu.
First teach me how to hold it in my hand.
Bre,
Thou houldest it well, looke how he doth thou maist the sooner learne.
Mu.
Next tell me how and when tis best to strike.
Bre.
Tis best to strike when time doth
•
erue, tis best to loose no time.
Mu.
Then now or neuer is my time to st
•
ike.
Bre.
And vvhen thou strikest, be sure thou hit the head
Mu.
The head;
Bre.
The verie heade.
he striks him downe deade
Mu.
Then haue at thine, so lie there and die,
A death no dout acording to desert.
Or else a vvorse as thou deseruest a vvo
•
se.
Ama
•
It glads my heart this tirants death to see.
Mu.
Novv ladie it remaines in you to end the tale you latelie had begunne, being enterrupted by this vvicked vvight.
You said you loued a shepheard.
Ama.
I so I do
•
, and none but only him.
And will do stil as long as life shall last
Mu.
But tell me ladie, si
•
h I set you free,
What course of life do you intend to take?
Ama.
I wil disguised wander through the world
Til I haue found h
•
m out,
Mu.
How i
•
you find your shepha
•
d in these woods
•
Ama.
Ah none so happie then as Amadine
•
He disguis
•
th himselfe.
Mu.
In tract of time a man may alter much,
Say Ladie doe you know your shepheard well?
Ama,
My Mucedorus hath he set me fre
•
?
Mucedorus
he hath set thee free.
Ama.
And liued so long vnknowne to Amadine.
Mu.
Ay thats a question where of you may not be resolued,
You know that I am banisht from the court,
I know likewise each pas
•
age is be
•
et,
So that we cannot long escape vnknowne,
Therefore my will is this, that we returne
Right throught the thickets to the wild mans caue:
And there a while liue on his prouision,
Vntil the search and n
•
rrow watch be past.
This is my counsel, and I thinke it best.
Ama
I thinke the verie same.
Mu.
Come lets begone.
The Clowne searches and fals ouer the wild man and so carry him away.
Clo.
Nay soft sir are you heere
•
abots on you,
I was like to be hang
•
d for not finding you,
We would borrow a certaine stray kings daughter of you, a wench, a wence sir we wo
•
ld haue.
Mu.
A wench o
•
me ile make the eate my sword.
Clo.
Oh Lord, nay and you are so lustie Ile cal a cooling card for you, ho maister, maister come away quicklie.
Enter Segasto.
S
•
.
Whats the matter;
Cl.
Looke maister, Amadine & the shepheard, oh braue
Se.
What minion, haue I found you out;
Clo.
Nay thats alie, I found her out my slfe.
Se.
Thou gadding huswife, what cause hadst thou to gad abroade,
When as thou knowest our wedding day so nie?
Ama.
Not so Segasto, no such thing in hand, shew your assurance, then ile answere you.
Se
•
Thy fathers promise my assurance is.
Ama.
But what he promist he hath not performde
•
Se.
It rests in thee for to performe the same:
Ama.
No
•
I.
Se.
And why;
Ama.
So is my will and therefore euen so.
Clo.
Maister with anone, none noe.
Se.
A wicked villant art thou here?
Mu
•
What needes these wordes we way them not?
Se.
We way them not proud shepheard, I skorne thy companie.
Clo.
Weele not haue a corner of thy companie.
Mu.
I scorne not thee, nor yet the least of thine.
Clo.
Thats a lie, a would haue kild me with his pugs nondo.
Se.
This stoutnesse Amadine contents me not.
Ama.
Then seeke an other that may you better please
Mu.
Well Amadine, it onelie rests in thee
Without delay to make thy choise of three,
There stands Segasto, here a shepheard stands,
There stands the third, now make thy choise,
Clo.
A Lord at th
•
least I am.
Am.
My choise is made, for I will none but thee.
Se,
A worthy mate no doubt for such a wife.
Mu.
And Am
•
dine, why wilt thou none but m
•
?
I cannot keepe thee as thy father did,
I haue no landes fo
•
to maintaine thy state.
Mor
•
ouer if thou meane to be my wife,
Commonly this must be thy vse,
To bed at midnight, vp at fowre,
Drudge all daie and
•
rudge from place to place,
Whereby our da
•
li
•
vittel for to winne:
And last of all which is the worst of all,
No princes then but plaine a shepheards wife.
Clo.
Then god ge you god morrow goo
•
y shepheard
Ama.
It shall not neede if Amadine do liue,
Thou shalt be crowned king of Arragon,
Clo.
Oh maister laugh, when hees King then ile be a queene.
Mu.
Then know that which nere tofore was known
I am no shepheard, no Arragonian I,
But borne of Royall blood, my fathers of Valentia
King, my mother q
•
eene, who for thy secret sake
Tooke this hard
•
ask in hand.
Ama.
Ah how I ioy my fortune is so good,
Se.
Well now I see, Segasto shall not
•
peede
But Mucedorus, I as much do ioy
To see thee here within our Court of Arragon,
As if a kingdome had befalne me this time,
I with my heart surrender it to thee.
He giueth her vnto him.
And looke what right to Amadine I haue.
Col.
What barnes doore and borne where my father
Was cunstable
•
abots on thee, how dost thee.
Mu
•
Thanks Segasto, but yet you leueld at the crowne
•
Clo.
M
•
ister beare this and beare all.
Se.
Why so sir.
Clo.
He sees sees you take a goose by the crowne.
Se.
Go to sir, away, post you to the king,
Whose har
•
is fraught with carefull doubts,
Glad him vp and tell him these good newes,
And we will follow as fast as we may.
Clo,
I goe maister, I runne maister.
Exeunt.
Enter the King and Collen
K.
Break heart and end my paled woes,
My amadine the comfort of my life,
How can I ioy except she were in sight.
Her absence breedes sorrow to my soule
And with a thunder breakes my heart in twaine.
Clo.
Forbeare thos
•
passions gentle King,
And you shall see twill turne vnto the best,
And bring your soule to quiet and to ioie.
K.
Such ioie as death, I do assure me that,
And naught but death, vnlesse of her I heare,
And that with speede, I cannot sigh thus long
But what a tumult doe I heare within.
The crie within ioie and happinesse.
Clo.
I heare a noyse of ouer-passing ioie
Within the court, my Lord be of good comfort.
And heere comes one in hast,
Enter the Clowne running.
Clo.
A King, a King, a King.
Col.
Why how now sirra, whats the matter?
Clo.
O tis nevves for a king'tis vvoorth money.
K.
Why sirra, thou shalt haue siluer and gold if it bee good.
Clo.
O tis good, tis good, Amadine.
K.
Oh what of her, tell me? & I wll make thee a knight
Clo.
How a spirit? no by ladie, I will not be aspirit
•
Maisters get ye away, if I be aspir
•
it, I shall be so leane
I shall make you all afraide.
Col
Thou so
•
, the King meanes to make thee a ge
•
tleman.
Clo.
Why I shall want parrell.
King.
Thou shalt want for nothing.
Clo.
Then stand away, trick vp thy selfe, heere they come.
E
•
ter Segasto Mucedorus and Amadins.
Am
•
.
My gratious father pardon thy disloyal daughter
K.
What do mine eies be hould my daughter Amadine
Rise vp dere daughter & let these my embrasing armes
Shew some token of thy father ioie,
Which euer since thy departure hath la
•
guished in sorrow:
Mu.
Deare father, neuer were your sorrows
Greater then my griefes,
Neuer you so deloate as I comfortlesse,
Yet neuerthelesse acknowledging my selfe
To be the cause of both, on bended knees
I humblie c
•
aue your pardon.
King.
ile pardon thee deare daughter
•
but as for him.
Ama.
Ah father what of him,
King
Assure as I am a king, and weare the crowne,
I will reuenge on that accursed wretch.
Mu
•
Ye
•
worthy prince worke not thy will in wrath shew fauour.
K.
I, such fauour as thou deseruest.
Mu.
I do deserue the daughter of a king.
K.
Oh impudent, a shepheard and so insolent.
Mu.
No shepheard I, but a worthy prince.
King.
In farre conceit, not princelie borne.
Mu.
Yes princely borne my father is a king.
My mother Queene, and of Valentia both.
K.
What Mucedorns, welcome to our court,
What cause hadst thou to come to me disguisde?
Mu.
No cause to feare, I caused no offence,
But this desiring thy daughters vertues for to see
Disguised my selfe from out my fathers court,
Vnknowen to any in secret I did rest,
And passed many troubles neere to death,
So hath your daughter my partaker bin,
As you shall know heereafter more at large,
Desiring you, you will giue her to mee,
Euen as mine owne and soueraigne of my life
Then shall I thinke my trauels are wel spent.
King.
With all my heart: but this.
Segasto claimes my promise made to fore,
That he should haue her as his onely wife,
Before my counsel when we came from war
Segasto, may I craue thee let it passe.
And giue Amadine as wife to Mucedorus;
Se
•
With all my heart, were it far a greater thing,
And what
•
may to furnish vp there rites,
With pleasing sports and pastimes you shall see.
King.
Thankes good Segasto, I will thinke of this.
Mu.
Thankes good my Lord, & while I liue
Account of me in what I can or maie.
Ama.
And good Segasto these great cur
•
esies
Shall not be forgot.
Clo.
Why ha
•
ke you maister, bones what haue you done?
What giuen away the wench you made me take such paines for, you are wise indeed, mas and I had knowne of that I would haue had her my selfe. faith master now wee maie goe to breakefast with a woodcoke pie.
Se.
Goe sir you were best leaue this knauerie
•
K,
Come on my Lordes, lets now to court
Where we may finish vp the ioyfullest daie
That euer hapt to a distressed King,
With mirth and ioy and greate solemnitie,
Weele finish vp these hymens rightes most pleasant lie,
Clo.
Hoe Lordes at the first, I am one to, but heare maister King by your leaue a cast, now you haue done with them, I praie you begin with me.
K.
Why what wouldest thou
•
aue;
Clo.
O
•
ou forgot, now, a little apparrell to makes
hansome what should Lo
•
des goe so beggerlie as I do
•
?
K.
What I did promise thee, I will performe, attend
•
on mee, come le
•
s depart.
They all speake.
Weele waite on you with all our hearts.
Clo.
And with a peece of my liuer to.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Comedie and Enuíe.
Comedie.
How now Enuie, what blushest thou all readie,
Peepe forth, hide not thy head with shame,
But with a courage praise a womans deeds,
Thy threates were vaine, thou couldst doe me no hurt
Although thou seemest to crosse me with despite,
•
ouerwhel
•
de, and turnde vpside downe thy blocke
And made thy selfe to stumble at the same.
En.
Though stumbled yet not ouerthrowne,
Thou canst not draw my heart to mi
•
denesse,
Yet must I needes confesse thou hast don well,
And plaide thy part with merth and pleasant glee:
Saie all this, yet canst thou not conquer mee,
Although this time thou hast got yet not the conquest neither.
A double reuenge another time ile haue:
Co.
Then cai
•
ife cu
•
sed, stoope vpon thy knee,
Yeelde to a woman, though not to mee,
And pray we both togither with our hearts,
That she thrice Nestors yeares may with vs rest,
And from her foes high God defend her sti
•
l.
That they against her m
•
y neuer wooke thi
•
will.
En.
En
••
e were he neuer so stoute
Would becke and bowe vnto her maiestie,
•
ndeede Comedie thou hast ouerrunne me now.
And fo
•
st me stoope vnto a womans swaie.
God grant her grace amongest vs long may raigne,
And those that would not h
•
ue it soe,
Would that by enuie soone their hea
•
tes they migh
•
forgoe.
Co.
The Counsell, Noble, and this Realme,
Lord guide it stil with thy most holy hand,
The Commons and the subiectes grant them grace
•
Their prince to serue, her to obey, &
•
reason to deface:
Long maie she raine, in ioy and greate felicitie,
Each Christian heart do saie amen with me,
Exe
•••
.
FINIS.