Fair Em, Quarto 2 Author Anonymous Printer John Haviland Transcriber Brett Greatley-Hirsch Conversion and Remediation LEMDO Team Conversion and Remediation from TCP LEMDO Team Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (Insight Grant awarded to Janelle Jenstad) Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada (Partnership Development Grant) University of Western Australia

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 Boston Public Library G.176.44 165 S106299 113b 7676 Book cover Endpaper Blank page Title page Blank page Fair Em Blank page Endpaper Book cover

[48] p ; 19 cm ; 4⁰. See Boston Public Library catalogue entry.

Printed in roman type.

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 Changed path of all the facs attributes on the pb element. Resolved a comment. Added choice, sic, and corr for a broken t used as an r. Checked encoding of the titlepage and dealt with the weird OF. Changed status. File is ready to hand off to editor for proofing. Ran speech numbering xslt, finished remediating, styled hunwords Tidied metadata. Changed value "tln" to "wln". Left note about drop-cap. Began remediating file Updated encoding of figure Replaced original @place values with new ones from emdPlacement taxonomy. Commented out particDesc. Ran regex to standardize order of attributes on fw and stage; remove rnd:italic from running titles, SDs, and speaker; remove rnd:centre from running titles and sigs; remove @who; remove rnd:justify; and remove supplied page numbers on pb. Corrected 450 ill-formed xml:ids. Created TEI from IML file. A Pleasant COMEDIE OF FAIRE EM, The Millers Daughter of Manchester: With the loue of William the Conqueror. As it was sundtry times publiquely acted in the Honourable Citie of London, by the right Ho- nourable the Lord Strange his Seruants.
LONDON, Printed for Iohn Wright, and are to be sold at his shop at the signe of the Bible in Guilt-spur street without New-gate. 1631. Enter William the Conqueror: Marques Lubeck, with a picture: Mountney: Manuile: Valingford: and Duke Dirot. Marques. WHat meanes faire Britaines mighty Conqueror So suddenly to cast away his staffe? And all in passion to forsake the tilt. D. Dirot. My Lord, this triumph we solemnise here, Is of meere loue to your increasing ioyes: Only expecting cheerefull lookes for all. What sudden pangs then moues your maiesty, To dim the brightnesse of the day with frownes? W. Conqueror. Ah, good my Lords, misconster not the cause: At least, suspect not my displeased browes I amorously do beare to your intent: For thanks and all that you can wish I yeeld. But that which makes me blush and shame to tell, Is cause why thus I turne my conquering eyes To cowards lookes and beaten fantasies. Mountney. Since we are guiltlesse, we the lesse dismay To see this sudden change possesse your cheere: For if it issue from your owne conceits, Bred by suggestion of some enuious thoughts: Your highnesse wisdome may suppresse it straight. Yet tell vs (good my Lord) what thought it is, That thus bereaues you of your late content, That in aduise we may assi st your Grace. Or bend our forces to reuiue your spirits. W. Con. Ah Marques Lubeck, in thy power it lyes To rid my bosome of these thraled dumps: And therefore, good my Lords forbeare a while, That we may parley of these priuate cares, A2 Whose The Millers daughter Whose strength subdues me more than all the world. Valingford. We goe and wish thee priuate conference, Publike affects in this accustomed peace. Exit all but William and the Marques. William. Now Marques must a Conqueror at armes Disclose himselfe thrald to vnarmed thoughts, And threatned of a shaddow, yeeld to lust: No sooner had my sparkeling eyes beheld The flames of beautie blasing on this peece, But suddenly a sence of myracle Imagined on thy louely Maistres face, Made mee abandon bodily regard, And cast all pleasures on my wounded soule: Then gentle Marques tell me what she is, That thus thou honourest on thy warlike shield: And if thy loue and interest be such, As iustly may giue place to mine, That if it be: my soule with honors wings May fly into the bosome of my deare. If not, close them and stoope into my graue. Marques. If this be all renowned Conqueror: Aduance your drooping spirits, and reuiue The wonted courage of your Conquering minde, For this faire picture painted on my shield Is the true counterfeit of louely Blanch Princes and daughter to the King of Danes: Whose beautie and excesse of ornaments Deserues another manner of defence, Pompe and high person to attend her state Than Marques Lubeck any way presents: Therefore her vertues I resigne ro thee, Alreadie shrind in thy religious brest, To be aduanced and honoured to the full. Nor beare I this an argument of loue: But to renowne faire Blanch my Soueraignes Childe, In euerie place where I by armes may doe it. William of Manchester. William. Ah Marques, thy words bring heauen vnto my soule, And had I heauen to giue for thy reward, Thou shouldst be thronde in no vnworthy place. But let my vttermost wealth suffice thy worth, Which here I vowe, and to aspire the blisse That hangs on quicke atchiuement of my loue, Thy selfe and I will trauell in disguise, To bring this Ladie to our Brittaine Court Marques. Let William but bethinke what may auayle, And let mee die if I denie my ayde. William. Then thus: The Duke Dirot and th’Earle Dimach Will I leaue substitutes to rule my Realme, While mightie loue forbids my being here, And in the name of Sir Robert of Windsor Will goe with thee vnto the Danish Court. Keepe Williams secrets Marques if thou loue him. Bright Blaunch I come, sweet fortune fauour me, And I will laud thy name eternally. Exeunt. Enter the Miller and Em his daughter. Miller. Come daughter we must learne to shake off pompe. To leaue the state that earst beseemd a Knight, And gentleman of no meane discent, To vndertake this homely millers trade: Thus must we maske to saue our wretched liues, Threatned by Conquest of this haplesse Ile: Whose sad inuasions by the Conqueror, Haue made a number such as we subiect Their gentle neckes vnto their stubborne yoke, Of drudging labour and base pesantrie. Sir Thomas Goddard now old Goddard is, Goddard the Miller of faire Manchester. Why should not I content me with this state? As good Sir Edmund Trofterd did the flaile. And thou sweet Em must stoope to high estate. To ioyne with mine that thus we may protect A3 Our The Millers daughter Our harmelesse liues, which led in greater port Would be an enuious obiect to our foes, That seeke to root all Britaines Gentrie From bearing countenance against their tyrannie. Em. Good Father let my full resolued thoughts, With setled patience to support this chance Be some poore comfort to your aged soule: For therein rests the height of my estate, That you are pleased with this deiection, And that all toyles my hands may vndertake, May serue to worke your worthines content. Miller, Thankes my deere daughter: these thy pleasant words Transfer my soule into a second heauen: And in thy setled minde, my ioyes consi st, My state reuiued, and I in former plight. Although our outward pomp be thus abased, And thralde to drudging, stay lesse of the world, Let vs retaine those honourable mindes That lately gouerned our superior state. Wherein true gentrie is the only meane, That makes vs differ from base millers borne: Though we expect no knightly delicates, Nor thirst in soule for former soueraigntie. Yet may our mindes as highly scorne to stoope To base desires of vulgars worldlinesse, As if we were in our presedent way. And louely daughter, since thy youthfull yeares Must needs admit as young affections: And that sweet loue vnpartiall perceiues Her dainie subiects through euery part, In chiefe receiue these lessons from my lips, The true discouerers of a Virgins due Now requisite, now that I know thy minde Something enclinde to fauour Manuils sute, A gentleman, thy Louer in protest: And that thou maist not be by loue deceiued, But of Manchester. But try his meaning fit for thy desert, In pursuit of all amorous desires, Regard thine honour. Let not vehement sighes Nor earnest vowes importing feruent loue, Render thee subiect to the wrath of lust: For that transformed to former sweet delight, Will bring thy body and thy soule to shame. Chaste thoughts and modest conuersations, Of proofe to keepe out all inchaunting vowes, Vaine sighes, forst teares, and pittifull aspects, Are they that make deformed Ladies faire, Poore wretch, and such inticing men, That seeke of all but onely present grace, Shall in perseuerance of a Virgins due Prefer the most refusers to the choyce Of such a soule as yeelded what they thought. But hoe: where is Trotter? Here enters Trotter the Millers man to them: and they within call to him for their grist. Trotter. Wheres Trotter? why Trotter is here. Yfaith, you and your daughter go vp and downe weeping, And wamenting and keeping of a wamentation, As who should say, the Mill would goe with your wamenting. Miller. How now Trotter? why complainest thou so? Trotter. Why yonder is a company of young men and maids Keepe such a stir for their grist, that they would haue it before My stones be readie to grind it. But yfaith, I would I coulde Breake winde enough backward: you should not tarrie for your Grist I warrant you. Miller. Content thee Trotter, I will go pacifie them. Here he ta- keth Em a- bout the neck. Trotter. Iwis you will when I cannot. Why looke, You haue a Mill. Why whats your Mill without mee? Or rather Mistres, what were I without you? Em. Nay Trotter, if you fall a chiding, I will giue you ouer. Trotter. I chide you dame to amend you. You are too fine to be a Millers daughter: For The Millers daughter For if you should but stoope to take vp the tole dish You will haue the crampe in your finger At least ten weekes after. Miller. Ah well said Trotter, teach her to play the good huswife And thou shalt haue her to thy wife, if thou canst get her good wil. Trotter. Ah words wherein I see Matrimonie come loaden With kisses to salute me: Now let me alone to pick the mill, To fill the hopper, to take the tole, to mend the sailes, Yea, and to make the mill to goe with the verie force of my loue. Here they must call for their grist within. Trotter. I come, I come, yfaith now you shall haue your grist Or else Trotter Will trot and amble himselfe to death. They call him againe. Exit. Enter king of Denmarke, with some attendants, Blanch his daughter, Mariana, Marques Lubeck, William disguised. King of Denmarke. Lord Marques Lubeck:, welcome home, Welcome braue Knight vnto the Denmarke King: For Williams sake the noble Norman Duke, So famous for his fortunes and successe, That graceth him with name of Conqueror: Right double welcome must thou be to vs. Rob. Windsor. And to my Lord the King shall I recount Your graces courteous entertainment, That for his sake vouchsafe to honour me A simple Knight attendant on his grace. King Den. But say Sir Knight, what may I call your name? Robert Windsor. Robert Windsor and like your maiestie. King Den. I tell thee Robert, I so admire the man, As that I count it hainous guilt in him That honours not Duke William with his heart. Blanch. Bid this straunger welcome, good my girle. Blanch. Sir, should I neglect your highnes charge herein, It might be thought of base discourtesie. Welcome Sir Knight to Denmarke heartily. Robert. of Manchester. Ro. Winds. Thanks gentle Ladie. Lord Marques, what is she? Lubeck. That same is Blanch daughter to the King, The substance of the shadow that you saw. Rob. Windsor. May this be shee, for whom I crost the Seas? I am asham’d to think I was so fond, In whom there’s nothing that contents my minde, Ill head, worse featurde, vncomly, nothing courtly, Swart and ill fauoured, a Colliers sanguine skin. I neuer saw a harder fauour’d Slut. Loue her? for what? I can no whit abide her. King of Denmarke. Mariana, I haue this day receiued letters From Swethia, that lets me vnderstand, Your ransome is collecting there with speed, And shortly shall be hither sent to vs. Mariana. Not that I finde occasion of mislike My entertainment in your graces court, But that I long to see my natiue home. King Den. And reason haue you Madam for the same: Lord Marques I commit vnto your charge The entertainment of Sir Robert here, Let him remaine with you within the Court In solace and disport, to spend the time. Exit King of Denmarke. Robert Wind. I thank your highnes, whose bounden I remaine. Blanch speaketh this secretly at one end of the stage. Vnhappie Blanch, what strange effects are these That workes within my thoughts confusedly? That still me thinkes affection drawes me on To take, to like, nay more to loue this knight. Robert. Wind. A modest countenance, no heauie sullen looke, Not very faire, but richly deckt with fauour: A sweet face, an exceeding daintie hand: A body were it framed of wax By all the cunning Artists of the world It could not better be proportioned. Lubeck. How now Sir Robert? in a studie man? B Here The Millers daughter Here is no time for contemplation. Robert Windsor. My Lord there is a certaine odd conceit, Which on the sudden greatly troubles me. Lubeck. How like you Blaunch? I partly do perceiue The little boy hath played the wag with you. Sir Robert. The more I look the more I loue to looke. Who sayes that Mariana is not faire? Ile gage my gauntlet gainst the enuious man, That dares auow there liueth her compare. Lubeck. Sir Robert, you mistake your counterfeit. This is the Lady which you came to see. Sir Robert. Yea my Lord: She is counterfeit in deed: For there is the substance that best contents me. Lubek. That is my loue. Sir Robert you do wrong me. Robert. The better for you Sir, she is your Loue, As for the wrong, I see not how it growes. Lubeck. In seeking that which is anothers right. Robert. As who should say your loue were priuileged That none might looke vpon her but your selfe. Lubeck. These iarres becomes not our familiaritie, Nor will I stand on termes to moue your patience. Robert. Why my lord, am not I of flesh & bloud as well as you? Then giue me leaue to loue as well as you. Lubeck. To loue Sir Robert? but whom? not she I loue? Nor stands it with the honour of my state, To brooke corriuals with me in my loue. Robert. So Sir, we are thorough for that L. Ladies farewell. Lord Marques, will you go? I will finde a time to speake with her I trow? Lubeck. With all my heart. Come Ladies. wil you walke? Exit. Enter Manuile alone disguised. Manuile. Ah Em the subiect of my restlesse thoughts, The Anuyle whereupon my heart doth beat, Framing thy state to thy desert, Full ill this life becomes thy heauenly looke, Wherein sweet loue and vertue sits enthroned. Bad of Manchester. Bad world, where riches is esteemed aboue them both, In whose base eyes nought else is bountifull. A Millers daughter saies the multitude, Should not be loued of a gentleman. But let them breath their soules into the ayre: Yet will I still affect thee as my selfe. So thou be constant in thy plighted vow, But here comes one, I will listen to his talke, Enter Valingford at another dore, disguised. Manuile staies hiding him- selfe. Valingford. Goe William Conqueror and seeke thy loue. Seeke thou a mynion in a forren land Whilest I draw backe and court my loue at home, The Millers daughter of faire Manchester Hath bound my feet to this delightsome soyle: And from her eyes do dart such golden beames, That holds my heart in her subiection. Manuile, He ruminates on my beloued choyce: God grant he come not to preuent my hope. But heres another, him yle listen to. Enter Mountney disguised at another dore. L. Mountney. Nature vniust, in vtterance of thy art, To grace a pesant with a Princes fame: Pesant am I so to mis-terme my loue Although a Millers daughter by her birth: Yet may her beautie and her vertues well suffice To hide the blemish of her birth in hell, Where neither enuious eyes nor thought can pierce, But endlesse darknesse euer smother it. Goe William Conqueror and seeke thy loue, Whilest I draw backe and court mine owne the while: Decking her body with such costly robes As may become her beauties worthinesse, That so thy labours may be laughed to scorne, And she thou seekest in forraine regions, Be darkned and eclipst when she arriues, By one that I haue chosen neerer home. B2 Manuile. The Millers daughter Manuile. What comes he to, to intercept my loue? Then hye thee Manuile to forestall such foes. Exit Manuile. Mountney. What now Lord Valingford are you behinde? The king had chosen you to goe with him. Valingford. So chose he you, therefore I maruell much That both of vs should linger in this sort. What may the king imagine of our stay? Mountney. The king may iustly think we are to blame: But I imagin’d I might well be spared And that no other man had borne my minde. Valingford. The like did I: in frendship then resolue What is the cause of your vnlookt for stay? Mountney. Lord Valingford I tell thee as a friend, Loue is the cause why I haue stayed behind. Valingford. Loue my Lord? of whom? Mountney. Em the millers daughter of Manchester. Valingford. But may this be? Mountney. Why not my Lord? I hope full well you know That loue respects no difference of state So beautie serue to stir affection. Valingford. But this it is that makes me wonder most, That you and I should be of one conceit In such a strange vnlikely passion. Mountney. But is that true? my Lord: I hope you do but iest. Valingford. I would I did: then were my griefe the lesse. Mountney. Nay neuer grieue: for if the cause be such To ioyne our thoughts in such a Sympathy: All enuie set aside: let vs agree To yeeld to eithers fortune in this choyce. Valingford. Content say I, and what so ere befall, Shake hands my Lord and fortune thriue at all. Exeunt. Enter Em, and Trotter the Millers man with a kerchife on his head, and an Vrinall in his hand. Em. Trotter where haue you beene? Trotter. Where haue I beene? why, what signifies this? Em. A kerchiefe, doth it not? Trotter. of Manchester. Trotter. What call you this I pray? Em. I say it is an Vrinall. Trotter. Then this is mystically to giue you to vnderstand I haue beene at the Phismicaries house. Em. How long hast thou beene sicke? Trotter. Yfaith, euen as long as I haue not beene halfe well, And that hath beene a long time. Em. A loytering time I rather imagine. Trot. It may bee so: but the Phismicary tels me that you can (help me. Em. Why, any thing I can doe for recouerie of thy health Be right well assured of. Trot. Then giue me your hand. Em. To what end. Trot. That the ending of an old indenture Is the begining of a new bargaine. Em. What bargaine? Trot. That you promised to doe any thing to recouer my health. Em. On that condition I giue thee my hand, Trot. Ah sweet Em. Here he offers to kisse her. Em. How now Trot? your masters daughter? Trot. Yfaith I aime at the fairest, Ah Em. sweet Em, fresh as the flower: That hath power to wound my hart. And ease my smart, of me poore theefe, In prison bound. Em. So all your rime lies on the ground. But what meanes this? Trot. Ah marke the deuise, For thee my loue full sicke I was, in hazard of my life Thy promise was to make me whole and for to be my wife. Let mee inioy my loue my deere, And thou possesse thy Trotter here. Em. But I meant no such matter. Trot. Yes woos but you did, Ile goe to our Parson Sir Iohn, And he shall mumble vp the marriage out of hand. Em. But here comes one that will forbid the Banes. B3 Here The Millers daughter Here Enters Manuile to them. Trotter. Ah Sir you come too late. Manuile. What remedie Trotter. Em. Goe Trotter, my father calles. Trotter. Would you haue me goe in, and leaue you two here? Em. Why, darest thou not trust me? Trotter. Yes faith, euen as long as I see you. Em. Goe thy waies I pray thee hartily. Trotter. That same word (hartily) is of great force. I will goe: but I pray sir, beware you Come not too neere the wench. Exit Trotter. Manuile. I am greatly beholding to you. Ah Maistres, sometime I mitgh haue said my loue, But time and fortune hath bereaued me of that, And I am abiect in those gratious eyes That with remorse earst saw into my griefe, May sit and sigh the sorrowes of my heart. Em. In deed my Manuile hath some cause to doubt, When such a swaine is riuall in his loue, Manuile. Ah Em, were he the man that causeth this mistrust, I should esteeme of thee as at thee first. Em. But is my loue in earnest all this while? Manuile. Beleeue me Em, it is not time to iest When others ioyes, what lately I possest. Em. If touching loue my Manuile charge me thus? Vnkindly must I take it at his hands, For that my conscience cleeres me of offence. Manuile. Ah impudent and shamelesse in thy ill, That with thy cunning and defraudfull tongue Seeks to delude the honest meaning minde: Was neuer heard in Manchester before, Of truer loue then hath beene betwixt vs twaine: And for my part how I haue hazarded Displeasure of my father and my friends Thy selfe can witnes. yet notwithstanding this: Two gentlemen attending on Duke William Mountney and Valingford, as I heard them named, Oft of Manchester. Oft times resort to see and to be seene, Walking the street fast by thy fathers dore, Whose glauncing eyes vp to windowes cast, Giues testies of their Maisters amorous heart. This Em is noted and too much talked on, Some see it without mistrust of ill. Others there are that scorning grin thereat, And saith, there goes the Millers daughters wooers. Ah me, whom chiefly and most of all it doth concerne To spend my time in griefe and vex my soule, To thinke my loue should be rewarded thus, And for thy sake abhorre all women kind, Em. May not a maid looke vpon a man Without suspitious iudgement of the world? Manuile. If sight do moue offence, it is the better not to see. But thou didst more vnconstant as thou art, For with them thou hadst talke and conference. Em. May not a maid talke with a man without mistrust? Manuile. Not with such men suspected amorous. Em. I grieue to see my Manuiles ielousie Manuile. Ah Em, faithfull loue is full of ielousie, So did I loue thee true and faithfully, For which I am rewarded most vnthankfully. Exit in a rage, Manet Em. And so away? what in displeasure gone? And left me such a bitter sweet to gnaw vpon? Ah Manuile, little wottest thou, How neere this parting goeth to my heart. Vncourteous loue whose followers reaps reward, Of hate disdaine, reproach and infamie, The fruit of franticke, bedlame ielousie. Here enters Mountney to Em. But here comes one of these suspitious men: Witnes my God without desert of me: For onely Manuile honor I in heart: Nor shall vnkindnesse cause me from him to start. For The Millers daughter Mountney. For this good fortune, Venus be thou blest, To meet my loue, the mistres of my heart, Where time and place giues opportunitie At full to let her vnderstand my loue. He turnes to Em & offers to take her by the hand, & she goes from him. Faire mistres, since my fortune sorts so well: Heare you a word. What meaneth this? Nay stay faire Em. Em. I am going homewards, Sir: Mountney. Yet stay (sweet loue) to whom I must disclose The hidden secrets of a louers thoughts, Not doubting but to finde such kinde remorse As naturally you are enclined to. Em. The Gentleman your friend Sir, I haue not seene him this foure dayes at the least. Mountney. whats that to mee? I speake not (sweet) in person of (my friend, But for my selfe, whom if that loue deserue To haue regard being honourable loue: Not base affects of loose lasciuious loue, Whom youthfull Wantons play and dally With: But that Vnites in honourable bands of holy rytes, And knits the sacred Knot that Gods. Here Em cuts him off. Em What meane you sir to keepe me here so long? I cannot vnderstand you by your signes, You keepe a pratling with your lips, But neuer a word you speake that I can heare. Mountney. What is she deafe? a great impediment. Yet remedies there are for such defects. Sweete Em, it is no little griefe to mee, To see where nature in her pride of Art Hath wrought perfections rich and admirable. Em. Speake you to me Sir? Mountney. To thee my onely ioy. Em. I cannot heare you. Mountney. Oh plague of fortune: Oh hell without compare. What boots it vs to gaze and not enioy? Em. of Manchester. Em. Fare you Well Sir. Exit Em. Manet Mountney. Mountney. Fare well my loue Nay farewell life and all. Could I procure redresse for this infirmitie, It might be meanes shee would regard my suit. I am acquainted with the Kings Physitions: Amongst the which there’s one mine honest friend, Seignior Alberto, a very learned man, His iudgment will I haue to help this ill. Ah Em, faire Em, if art can make thee whole: Ile Buy that sense for thee, although it cost me deare. But Mountney: stay, this may be but deceit, A matter fained onely to delude thee. And not vnlike, perhaps by Valingford, He loues faire Em as well as I. As well as I? ah no, not halfe so well. Put case, yet may he be thine enemie, And giue her counsell to dissemble thus. Ile try the euent and if it fall out so, Friendship farewell: Loue makes me now a foe. Exit Mountney. Enter Marques Lubeck, and Mariana. Mariana. Trust me my Lord, I am sorry for your hurt. Lubeck. Gramercie Madam: but it is not great: Onely a thrust, prickt with a Rapiers point. Mariana. How grew the quarrell my Lord? Lubeck. Sweet Ladie, for thy sake. There was this last night two maskes in one company. My selfe the formost: The other strangers were: Amongst the which, when the Musicke began to sound the Mea- (sures, Each Masker made choice of his Ladie: And one more forward then the rest stept towards thee: Which I perceiuing thrust him aside, and tooke thee my selfe. But this was taken in so ill part, That at my comming out of the court gate, with iustling together, It was my chance to be thrust into the arme. The doer thereof because he was the originall cause of the disorder At that inconuenient time, was presently committed, C And The Millers daughter Here enters Sir Robert of Windsor with a Gaylor. And is this morning sent for to answer the matter: And I think here he comes. What Sir Robert of Windsor how now? Sir Robert. Ifaith my Lord a prisoner: but what ailes your arme? Lubeck. Hurt the last night by mischance. Sir Robert. What, not in the maske at the Court gate? Lubeck. Yes trust me there. Sir Rob. Why then my Lord I thank you for my nights lodging. Lubeck. And I you for my hurt, if it were so; Keeper awaie, I discharge you of your prisoner. Exit the Keeper. Sir Rob. Lord Marques, you offerd me disgrace to shoulder me. Lubeck. Sir I knew you not, and therefore you must pardon me, And the rather it might be alleaged to me of Meere simplicitie, to see another dance with my Mistris Disguised, and I my selfe in presence: but seeing it Was our haps to damnifie each other vnwillingly, Let vs be content with our harmes, And lay the fault where it was, and so become friends. Sir Robert. Yfaith I am content with my nights lodging If you be content with your hurt. Lubeck. Not content that I haue it, but content To forget how I came by it. Sir Robert. My Lord, here comes Ladie Blanch, lets away. Enter Blanch. Lubeck. With good will, Ladie you will stay? Exit Lubeck and Sir Robert. Mariana. Madam. Blanch. Mariana, as I am grieued with thy presence: So am I not offended for thy absence, And were it not a breach to modestie, Thou shouldest know before I left rhee. Mariana. How neare is this humor to madnesse If you hold on as you begin, you are in a prety way to scolding. Blanch. To scolding huswife? Mariana. Madam here comes one. Here enters one with a letter. Blanch of Manchester. Blaunch. There doth indeed. Fellow wouldest thou haue any Thing with any body here? Messenger. I haue a letter to deliuer to the Ladie Mariana. Blaunch. Giue it me. Messen. There must none but shee haue it. Blaunch snatcheth the letter from him, Et exit messenger. Go to foolish fellow. And therefore to ease the anger I sustaine, Ile be so bold to open it, whats here? Sir Robert greets you well? Your Maistries, his loue, his life; Oh amorous man, How he entertaines his new Maistres; And bestowes on Lubeck his odde friend A horne night cap to keepe in his wit. Mariana. Madam though you haue discourteously Read my letter, yet I pray you giue it me. Blaunch. Then take it there, and there, and there. She teares it. Et exit Blaunch. Mariana. How far doth this differ from modestie: Yet will I gather vp the peeces, which haply May shew to me the intent thereof Though not the meaning. She gathers vp the peeces and ioynes them. Mariana. Your seruant and loue sir Robert of Windsor Alius William the Conqueror, wisheth long health and happinesse. Is this William the Conqueror, shrouded vnder The name of sir Robert of Windsor? Were he the Monarch of the world He should not dispossesse Lubeck of his loue. Therefore I will to the Court, and there if I can Close to be freinds with Ladie Blaunch, And thereby keepe Lubeck my loue for my selfe: And further the Ladie Blanch in her sute as much as I may. Exit. Enter Em solus. Em. Ielousie that sharps the louers sight, And makes him conceiue and conster his intent, C2 Hath The Millers daughter Hath so bewitched my louely Manuils sences, That he misdoubts his Em that loues his soule, He doth suspect corriuals in his loue: Which how vntrue it is be iudge my God. But now no more: Here commeth Valingford: Shift him off now, as thou hast done the other. Enter Valingford. Valingf. See how Fortune presents me with the hope I lookt for. Faire Em! Em. Who is that? Valingf. I am Valingford thy loue and friend. Em. I cry you mercie Sir: I thought so by your speech. Valingf. What aileth thine eyes? Em. Oh blinde Sir, blind, striken blinde by mishap on a sudden. Valingf. But is it possible you should be taken on such a sudden; Infortunate Valingford to be thus crost in thy loue. Faire Em, I am not a little sorrie to see this thy hard hap: Yet neuerthelesse, I am acquainted with a learned Physitian, That will do any thing for thee at my request. To him will I resort, and enquire his iudgement, As concerning the recouerie of so excellent a sence. Em. O Lord Sir: and of all things I cannot abide Physicke: The verie name thereof to me is odious. Valingford. No; not the thing will doe thee so much good? Sweet Em, hither I came to parley of loue, Hoping to haue found thee in thy woonted prosperitie. And haue the gods so vnmercifully thwarted my expectation? By dealing so sinisterly with thee sweet Em? Em. Good sir, no more, it fits not me To haue respect to such vaine fantasies, As idle loue presents my eares withall, More reason I should ghostly giue my selfe, To sacred prayers, for this my former sinne. For which this plague is iustly fallen vpon me, Than to harken to the vanities of loue. Valingford. Yet sweet Em accept this iewel at my hand, Which I bestow on thee in token of my loue. Em of Manchester. Em. A jewell sir, what pleasure can I haue In jewels, treasure, or any worldly thing That want my sight that should discerne thereof? Ah sir I must leaue you: The paine of mine eyes is so extreame I cannot long stay in a place. I take my leaue. Exit Em. Valingford. Zounds, what a crosse is this to my conceit; But Valingford, search the depth of this deuise. Why may not this be fained subtiltie, By Mountneyes inuention, to the intent That I seeing such occasion should leaue off my suit, And not any more persist to solicite her of loue? Ile trie the euent, if I can by any meanes perceiue The effect of this deceit to be procured by his meanes, Friend Mountney the one of vs is like to repent our bargain. Exit. Enter Mariana and Marques Lubeck. Lubeck. Ladie, since that occasion forward in our good Presenteth place and opportunitie: Let me intreat your woonted kind consent And freindly furtherance in a suit I haue. Mariana. My Lord you know you need not to intreat, But may command Mariana to her power Be it no impeachment to my honost fame. Lubeck. Free are my thoughts from such base villanie As may in question, Ladie, call your name: Yet is the matter of such consequence, Standing vpon my honorable credit, To be effected with such zeale and secresie, As should I speake and faile my expectation It would redound greatly to my preiudice. Mariana. My Lord wherein hath Mariana giuen you occasion That you should mistrust or else be iealous of my secresie? Lubeck Mariana, do not misconster of me: I not mistrust thee, nor thy secresie, Nor let my loue misconster my intent, Nor thinke thereof but well and honourable C3 Thus The Millers daughter Thus stands the case: Thou knowest from England Hither came with me Robert of Windsor, a noble man at Armes, Lustie and valiant, in spring time of his yeares, No maruell then though he proue amorous. Mariana. true my Lord, he came to see faire Blanch. Lubeck. No Mariana, that is not it. His loue to Blanch was then extinct When first he saw thy face Tis thee he loues: yea, thou art onely shee That is maistris and commander of his thoughts. Mariana. Well, well, my Lord, I like you, for such drifts Put silly Ladies often to their shifts, Oft haue I heard you say, you loued me well: Yea, sworne the same, and I beleeued you to. Can this be found an action of good faith, Thus to dissemble where you found true loue? Lubeck. Mariana, I not dissemble on mine honor: Nor failes my faith to thee. But for my friend, For princely William, by whom thou shalt possesse The title of estate and Maiestie, Fitting thy loue and vertues of thy minde, For him I speake, for him do I intreat, And with thy fauour fully do resigne To him the claime and interest of my loue. Sweet Mariana then denie mee not. Loue William, loue my friend and honour mee Who else is cleane dishonoured by thy meanes. Mariana, Borne to mishap, my selfe am onely shee, On whom the Sunne of fortune neuer shined: But Planets rulde by retrogarde aspect, Foretold mine ill in my natiuitie. Lubeck. Sweet Ladie cease, let my intreatie serue To pacifie the passion of thy griefe, Which well I know proceeds of ardent loue. Mariana. But Lubeck now regards not Mariana. Lubeck. Euen as my life, so loue I Mariana. Mariana. of Manchester. Mariana. Why do you post mee to another then? Lubeck. He is my friend, and I do loue the man. Mariana. Then will Duke William rob me of my loue? Lubeck. No as his life Mariana he doth loue. Mariana. Speake for your selfe my Lord let him alone. Lubeck. So do I Madam, for he and I am one. Mariana. Then louing you I do content you both. Lubeck. In louing him you shall content vs both. Me, for I craue that fauour at your hands: He for hopes that comfort at your hands. Mariana. Leaue of my lord, here comes the Ladie Blanch. Enter Blanch to them. Lubeck. Hard hap to breake vs of our talke so soone, Sweet Mariana, doe remember me. Exit Lubeck, Mariana. Thy Mariana cannot chuse but remember thee. Blanch. Mariana well met, you are verie forward in your loue? Mariana. Madam be it in secret spoken to your selfe, If you will but follow the complot I haue inuented You will not think me so forward As your selfe shall proue fortunate. Blanch. As how? Mariana. Madam as thus: It is not vnknowen to you That Sir Robert of Windsor, A man that you do not little esteeme, Hath long importuned me of loue: But rather then I will be found false Or vniust to the Marques Lubeck, I will as did the constant ladie Penelope Vndertake to effect some great taske. Blanch. What of all this? Mariana. The next time that Sir Robert shall come. In his woonted sort to solicit me with loue, I will seeme to agree and like of any thing That the Knight shall demaund, so far forth As it be no impeachment to my chastitie: And to conclude, point some place for to meet the man, For The Millers daughter For my conueyance from the Denmarke Court: Which determined vpon, he will appoynt some certaine time For our departure: whereof you hauing intelligence, You may soone set downe a plot to weare the English Crowne. And then: Blanch. What then? Mariana. If Sir Robert proue a King and you his Queene How then? Blanch. Were I assured of the one, as I am perswaded Of the other, there were some possibilitie in it. But here comes the man. Mariana. Madam begon and you shall see I will worke to your desire and my content. Exit Blanch. William. Con. Lady this is well and happily met, Fortune hetherto hath beene my foe, And though I haue oft sought to speake with you, Yet stil l haue beene crost with sinister haps. I cannot Madam tell a louing tale Or court my Maistres with fabulous discourses, That am a souldier sworne to follow armes: But this I bluntly let you vnderstand, I honour you with such religious zeale As may become an honorable minde. Nor may I make my loue the siege of Troy That am a stranger in this Countrie. First what I am, I know you are resolued, For that my friend hath let you that to vnderstand, The Marques Lubeck to whom I am so bouud, That whilest I liue I count me onely his. Mariana. Surely you are beholding to the Marques, For he hath beene an earnest spokes-man in your cause. William. And yeelds my Ladie then at his request To grace Duke William with her gratious loue; Mariana. My Lord I am a prisoner, and hard it were To get me from the Court. William. An easie matter to get you from the Court. If of Manchester. If case that you will thereto giue consent. Mariana. Put case I should, how would you vse me then? William. Not otherwise but well and honorably. I haue at Sea a ship that doth attend, Which shall forth with conduct vs into England; Where when we are, I straight will marrie thee. We may not stay deliberating long Least that suspition, enuious of our weale Set in a foot to hinder our pretence. Mariana. But this I thinke were most conuenient To maske my face the better to scape vnknowne. William. A good deuise: till then, Farwell faire loue. Mariana. But this I must intreat your grace, You would not seek by lust vnlawfully To wrong my chast determinations. William. I hold that man most shamelesse in his sinne That seekes to wrong an honest ladies name Whom he thinkes worthy of his marriage bed. Mariana. In hope your oath is true, I leaue your grace till the appointed time. Exit Mariana. William. O happie William, blessed in thy loue: Most fortunate in Marianaes loue: Well Lubeck well, this courtesie of thine I will requite if God permit me life. Exit. Enter Ualingford and Mountney at two sundrie dores, looking angerly each on other with Rapiers drawen. Mountney. Ualingford, so hardlie I disgest an iniurie Thou hast profered me, as wer’t not that I detest to do what stands Not with the honor of my name, Thy death should paie thy ransome of thy fault. Ualingford. And Mountney, had not my reuenging wrath, Incenst with more than ordinarie loue Beene such for to depriue thee of thy life, Thou hadst not liued to braue me as thou doest: wretch as thou art, Wherein hath Valingford offended thee? D That The Millers daughter That honourable bond which late we did confirme In presence of the gods, When with the Conqueror we arriued here For my part hath been kept inviolably Till now too much abused by thy villanie, I am inforced to cancell all those bands, By hating him which I so well did loue. Mountney. Subtill thou art, and cunning in thy fraud, That giuing me occasion of offence, Thou pickst a quarrell to excuse thy shame. Why Valingford, was it not enough for thee To be a riuall twixt me and my loue, But counsell her to my no small disgrace, That when I came to talke with her of loue, Shee should seeme deafe, as faining not to heare? Valingford. But hath shee Mountney vsed thee as thou sayest? Mountney. Thou knowest too well shee hath: Wherein thou couldest not do me greater iniurie. Valingford. Then I perceiue we are deluded both: For when I offered many gifts of Gold and iewels To entreat for loue, shee hath refused them with a coy disdaine, Alleaging that shee could not see the sunne. The same coniectured I to be thy drift, That fayning so shee might be rid of mee. Mountney, The like did I by thee. But are not these naturall im- (pediments? Valingford. In my coniecture merely counterfeit: Therefore lets joyne hands in friendship once againe, Since that the iarre grew only by coniecture. Mountney. With all my heart: Yet lets trye the truth thereof. Valingf. With right good will. We will straight vnto her father, And there to learne whether it be so or no. Exeunt. Enter William and Blanch disguised, with a maske ouer her face. William. Come on my loue the comfort of my life: Disguised thus we may remaine vnknowne, And of Manchester. And get we once to Seas, I force not then, We quickly shall attaine the English shore. Blanch. But this I vrge you with your former oath. You shall not seeke to violate mine honour, Vntill our marriage rights be all performed. William. Mariana, here I sweare to thee by heauen. And by the honour that I beare to Armes, Neuer to seeke or craue at hands of thee The spoyle of honourable chastitie Vntill we do attaine the English coast, Where thou shalt be my right espoused Queene. Blanch. In hope your oath proceedeth from your heart, Lets leaue the Court, and betake vs to his power That gouernes all things to his mightie will, And will reward the iust with endlesse ioye, And plague the bad with most extreme annoy, William. Lady as little tarriance as we may, Least some mis-fortune happen by the way. Exit Blanch and William. Enter the Miller, his man Trotter, & Mannile. Miller. I tell you sir it is no little greefe to mee, You should so hardly conceit of my daughter, Whose honest report, though I saie it, Was neuer blotted with any title of defamation. Manuile. Father Miller, the repaire of those gentlemen to your (house, Hath giuen me great occasion to mislike. Miller. As for those gentlemen, I neuer saw in them Any euill intreatie. But should they haue profered it, Her chaste minde hath proofe enough to preuent it. Trotter. Those gentlemen are as honest as euer I saw: For yfaith one of them gaue me six pence To fetch a quart of Seck. See master here they come. Enter Mountney and Valingford. Miller. Trotter, call Em, now they are here together, Ile haue this matter throughly debated, Exit Trotter, Mountney. Father, well met. We are come to confer with you. D2 Manuile The Millers daughter Manuile. Nay; with his daughter rather. Valingf. Thus it is father, we are come to craue your friendship (in a matter. Miller. Gentlemen as you are strangers to me, Yet by the way of courtesie you shall demand Any reasonable thing at my hands. Manuile. What is the matter so forward They come to craue his good will? Valingford. It is giuen vs to vnderstand that your daughter Is sudenly become both blinde and deafe. Miller. Mary God forbid: I haue sent for her, in deed She hath kept her chamber this three daies. It were no litle griefe to me if it should be so. Manuile. This is Gods iudgement for her trecherie. Enter Trotter leading Em. Miller. Gentlemen I feare your words are two true: See where Trotter comes leading of her. What ayles my Em, not blinde I hope? Em. Mountney and Valingford both together? And Manuile, to whom I haue faithfully vowed my loue? Now Em suddenly helpe thy selfe. Mountney. This is no desembling Valingford. Valingford. If it be; it is cunningly contriued of all sides. Em. Trotter lend me thy hand, And as thou louest me keep my counsell And iustifie what so euer I saie, and Ile largely requite thee. Trott. Ah, that is as much as to saie you would tell a monstrous, Terrible, horrible, outragious lie, And I shall sooth it, no berlady. Em. My present extremitie wills me, if thou loue me Trotter? Trotter. That same word loue makes me to doe any thing. Em. Trotter wheres my father? He thrusts Em vpon her father. Trotter. Why what a blinde dunce are you, can you not see? He standeth right before you, Em. Is this my father? Good father, giue me leaue to sit Where of Manchester. Where I may not be disturbed, Sith God hath visited me both of my sight and hearing. Miller. Tell me sweet Em how came this blindnes. Thy eyes are louely to looke on, And yet haue they lost the benefit of their sight. What a griefe is this to thy poore father? Em. Good father let me not stand as an open gazing stock to (euerie one, But in a place alone as fits a creature so miserable. Miller. Trotter, lead her in, the vtter ouerthrow Of poore Goddards ioy and onely solace. Exit the Miller, Trotter and Em. Manuile. Both blinde and deafe, then is she no wife for me; And glad am I so good occasion is hapned: Now will I away to Manchester, And leaue these gentlemen to their blinde fortune. Exit Manuile. Mountney. Since fortune hath thus spitefully crost our hope, Let vs leaue this guest and harken after our King, Who is at this day landed at Lirpoole. Exit Mountney. Valingford. Goe my Lord, Ile follow you. Well, now Mountney is gone Ile staie behind to solicit my loue, For I imagine that I shall find this but a fained inuention Thereby to haue vs leaue off our suits. Enter Marques Lubeck, and the King of Denmark Angerly with some attendants. Zweno. K. Well Lubeck well, it is not possible But you must be consenting to this act; Is this the man so highly you extold? And play a part so hatefull with his friend? Since first he came with thee into the court What entertainement and what countenance He hath receiued, none better knowes than thou. In recompence whereof, he quites me well, To steale a way faire Mariana my prisoner, Whose ransome being lately greed vpon, I am deluded of by this escape. D3 Besides The Millers daughter Besides, I know nor how to answer it When shee shall be demanded home to Swethia. Lubeck. My gracious Lord coniecture not I pray Worser of Lubeck than he doth deserue: Your highnes knowes Mariana was my loue, Sole paragon and mistres of my thoughts. Is it likely I should know of her departure, Wherein there is no man iniured more than I? Zweno. That carries reason Marques I confesse. Call forth my daughter, yet I am perswaded That shee poore soule suspected not her going: For as I heare: shee likewise loued the man, Which he to blame did not at all regard. Rocilia. My Lord here is the Princesse Mariana: It is your daughter is conueyed away. Zweno. What, my daughter gone? Now Marques your villanie breakes foorth. This match is of your making, gentle sir: And you shall dearly know the price thereof. Lubeck. Knew I thereof, or that there was intent In Robert thus to steale your highnes daughter Let heauens in iustice presently confound me. Zweno. Not all the protestations thou canst vse, Shall saue thy life. Away with him to prison. And minion, otherwise it cannot be, But you are an agent in this trecherie. I will reuenge it throughly on you both. Away with her to prison. Heres stuffe indeed? My daughter stolen away? It booteth not thus to disturbe my selfe, But presently to send to English William, To send me that proud knight of Windsor hither, Here in my Court to suffer for his shame: Or at my pleasure to be punished there Withall, that Blanch be sent me home againe, Or I shall fetch her vnto Windsors cost, Yea, of Manchester. Yea, and Williams too if he denie her mee? Exit Zweno. Enter William taken with souldiers. William. Could any crosse, could any plague be worse? Could heauen or hell did both conspire in one To afflict my soule, inuent a greater scourge Than presently I am tormented with? Ah Mariana cause of my lament: Ioy of my heart, and comfort of my life For thee I breath my sorrowes in the ayre, And tire my selfe: for silently I sigh, My sorrowes afflicts my soule with equall passion. Souldier. Go to sirrah, put vp, it is to small purpose. William. Hence villaines hence, dare you lay your hands Vpon your Soueraigne? Souldier. Well sir, we will deale for that, But here comes one will remedie all this. Enter Demarch. Souldier. My Lord, watching this night in the campe, VVe tooke this man, and know not what he is: And in his companie was a gallant dame, A woman faire in outward shewe shee seemd, But that her face was mask’d we could not see The grace and fauour of her countenance. Demarch. Tell me good fellow of whence and what thou art. Souldier. Why do you not answer my Lord? He takes scorne to answer. Demarch. And takest thou scorne to answer my demand? Thy proud behauiour very well deserues This misdemeanour at the worst be construed. Why doest thou neither know, nor hast thou heard? That in the absence of the Saxon Duke, Demarch is his especiall Substitute To punish those that shall offend the lawes. William. In knowing this, I know thou art a traytor, A rebell, and mutenous conspirator. Why Demarch, knowest thou who I am? Demarch. The Millers daughter Demarch. Pardon my dread Lord the error of my sence, And misdemeanor to your princely excellencie. Will. Why Demarch, What is the cause my subiects are in armes? Demarch. Free are my thoughts my dread and gratious Lord From treason to your state and common weale, Only reuengement of a priuate grudge, By Lord Dirot lately profered me, That stands not with the honor of my name, Is cause I haue assembled for my guard Some men in armes that may withstand his force, Whose setled malice aymeth at my life. William. Where is Lord Dirot? Demarch. In armes, my gratious Lord, Not past two miles from hence, As credibly I am assertained. William. Well, come, let vs goe, I feare I shall find traytors of you both. Exit. Enter the Citizen of Manchester, and his daughter Elner, and Manuile. Citizen. Indeed sir it would do verie well If you could intreat your father to come hither: But if you thinke it be too far, I care not much to take horse and ride to Manchester. I am sure my daughter is content with either: How sayest thou Elner art thou not? Elner. As you shall think best I must be contented. Manuile, Well Elner, farewell, only thus much, I pray make all things in a readines, Either to serue here or to carry thither with vs. Citizen. As for that sir take you no care, And so I betake you to your iournie. Enter Valingford, But soft, what gentleman is this? Valingf. God speed sir, might a man craue a word or two with you? Citizen. God forbid else sir, I pray you speake your pleasure. Valingford. The gentleman that parted from you was he not Of of Manchester. Of Manchester, his father liuing there of good account. Citizen. Yes mary is he sir: why doe you aske? Belike you haue had some acquaintance with him. Valingford. I haue been acquainted in times past, But through his double dealing, I am growen werie of his companie. For be it spoken to you: He hath beene acquainted with a poore millers daughter, And diuers times hath promist her marriage. But what with his delayes and flouts, He hath brought her into such a taking, That I feare me it will cost her her life. Citizen. To be plaine with you sir: His father and I haue been of old acquaintance, And a motion was made, Betweene my daughter and his sonne, VVhich is now throughly agreed vpon Saue onely the place appoynted for the marriage, Whether it shall be kept here or at Manchester, And for no other occasion he is now ridden. Elner. What hath he done to you? That you should speake so ill of the man. Valingford. Oh gentlewoman I crie you mercie, He is your husband that shalbe. Elner. If I knew this to be true? He should not be my husband were he neuer so good: And therefore, good father, I would desire you to take the paines To beare this gentleman companie to Manchester To know whether this be true or no. Citizen. Now trust mee gentleman hee deales with mee verie (hardly, Knowing how well I meant to him. But I care not much to ride to Manchester To know whether his fathers will be He should deale with me so badly. Will it please you sir to go in, we will presently take horse & away. E Valingford. The Millers daughter Valingford. If it please you to go in Ile follow you presently. Exit Elner and her father. Now shall I be reuenged on Manuile, And by this meanes get Em to my wife: And therefore I will straight to her fathers And informe them both of all that is hapned. Exit. Enter William, the Ambassador of Denmarke, Demarch, and other attendants. William. What newes with the Denmark Embassador? Embassador. Mary thus, the King of Denmark & my Soueraigne Doth send to know of thee what is the cause That iniuriously against the law of armes, Thou hast stollen away his onely daughter Blanch, The onely stay and comfort of his life. Therefore by me he willeth thee to send his daughter Blanch: Or else forthwith he will leuy such an host, As soone shall fetch her in despite of thee. William. Embassador, this answer I returne thy King, He willeth me to send his daughter Blanch: Saying I conuaid her from the Danish court, That neuer yet did once as think thereof. As for his menacing and daunting threats I nill regard him nor his Danish power: For if he come to fetch her forth my Realme, I will prouide him such a banquet here. That he shall haue small cause to giue me thanks. Embassador. Is this your answer then? William. It is, and so be gone. Embassador. I goe: but to your cost. Exit Ambassador. William. Demarch, our subiects earst leuied in ciuill broyles, Mustred forth with for to defend the Realme, In hope whereof that we shall finde you true, We freely pardon this thy late offence. Demarch. Most humble thanks I render to your grace. Exeunt. Enter of Manchester. Enter the Miller and Valingford. Mill. Alas gentleman, why should you trouble your selfe so much, Considering the imperfections of my daughter, Which is able to with-draw the loue of any man from her, As alreadie it hath done in her first choyce. Maister Manuile hath forsaken her, And at Chester shall be maried to a mans daughter of no little (wealth. But if my daughter knew so much: It would goe verie neere her heart I feare me. Valingf. Father miller: such is the entire affection to your (daughter, As no misfortune whatsoeuer can alter. My fellow Mountney thou seest gaue quickly ouer, But I by reason of my good meaning Am not so soone to be changed Although I am borne off with scornes and deniall. Enter Em to them. Miller. Trust me sir I know not what to saie, My daughter is not to be compelled by me, But here she comes her selfe: speake to her and spare not: For I neuer was troubled with loue matters so much before. Em. Good Lord! shall I neuer be rid of this importunate man? Now must I dissemble blindnesse againe. Once more for thy sake Manuile thus am I inforced, Because I shall complete my full resolued minde to thee. Father where are you? Miller. Here sweet Em, answer this gentleman That would so faine enioye thy loue. Em. Where are you sir? will you neuer leaue This idle and vaine pursuit of loue? Is not England stor’d enough to content you? But you must still trouble the poore Contemptible maid of Manchester. Valingf. None can content me but the faire maid of Manchester. Em. I perceiue loue is vainly described, That being blinde himselfe, E2 VVould The Millers daughter VVould haue you likewise troubled with a blinde wife, Hauing the benefit of your eyes, But neither follow him so much in follie, But loue one, in whom you may better delight. Valingford. Father Miller, thy daughter shall haue honour By granting mee her loue: I am a Gentleman of king Williams Court, And no meane man in king Williams fauour. Em. If you be a Lord sir, as you say: You offer both your selfe and mee great wrong: Yours, as apparant in limiting your loue so vnorderly, For which you rashly endure reprochement: Mine, as open and euident, VVhen being shut from the vanities of this world, You would haue me as an open gazing stock to all the world: For lust, not loue leades you into this error: But from the one I will keepe me as well as I can, And yeeld the other to none but to my father, As I am bound by dutie. Valingford. VVhy faire Em, Manuile hath forsaken thee, And must at Chester be married, which, If I speake otherwise than true, Let thy father speake what credibly he hath heard. Em. But can it be Manuile will deale so vnkindly, To reward my iustice with such monstrous vngentlenes. Haue I dissembled for thy sake? And doest thou now thus requite it? In deed these many daies I haue not seen him, Which hath made me maruell at his long absence. But father, are you assured of the wordes he spake, VVere concerning Manuile? Miller. In sooth daughter, now it is forth, I must needs confirme it. Master Manuile hath forsaken thee, And at Chester must be married To a mans daughter of no little wealth. His of Manchester. His owne father procures it, And therefore I dare credit it, And doe thou beleeue it, For trust me daughtet it is so. Em. Then good father pardon the iniurie, That I haue done to you only causing your griefe, By ouer-fond affecting a man so trorhlesse. And you likewise sir, I pray hold mee excused, As I hope this cause will allow sufficiently for mee: My loue to Manuile, thinking he would requite it, Hath made me double with my father and you, And many more besides, Which I will no longer hide from you. That inticing speeches should not beguile mee, I haue made my selfe deafe to any but to him. And lest any mans person should please mee more than his, I haue dissembled the want of my sight: Both which shaddowes of my irreuocable affections, I haue not spar’d to confirme before him. My father, and all other amorous soliciters: VVherewith not made acquainted, I perceiue My true intent hath wrought mine owne sorrow And seeking by loue to be regarded, Am cut off with contempt, and despised. Mill. Tell me sweet Em, hast thou but fained all this while for (his loue, That hath so discourteously forsaken thee. Em. Credit me father I haue told you the troth, Wherewith I desire you and Lord Valingford not to be displeased For ought else I shall saie, Let my present griefe hold me excused. But may I liue to see that vngratefull man Iustly rewarded for his trecherie, Poore Em would think her selfe not a little happie. Fauour my departing at this instant, For my troubled thought desires to meditate alone in silence. Exit Em. E3 Valing. The Millers daughter Valingf. Will not Em shew one cheerefull looke on Valingford? Miller Alas sir, blame her not, you see shee hath good cause, Being so handled by this gentleman: And so Ile leaue you, and go comfort my poore wench As well as I may. Exit the Miller. Ualingford. Farewell good father. Exit Valingford. Enter Zweno King of Denmarke with Rosilio, and other attendants. Zweno. Rosilio, Is this the place whereas the Duke William should meet mee? Rosilio. It is, and like your grace. Zweno. Goe captaine away, regard the charge I gaue: See all our men be martialed for the fight. Dispose the wards as lately was deuised, And let rhe prisoners vnder seuerall gards Be kept apart vntill you heare from vs. Let this suffice, you know my resolution, If William Duke of Saxon be the man, That by his answer sent vs, he would send Not words but wounds: not parleis but alarms, Must be decider of this controuersie. Rosilio, stay with mee, the rest begone. Exeunt. Enter William, and Demarch with other attendants William. All but Demarch go shroud you out of sight, For I will goe parley with the Prince my selfe. Demarch. Should Zweno by this parley call you forth, Vpon intent iniuriously to deale: This offereth too much oportunitie. William. No, no, Demarch, that were a breach Against the Law of Armes: therefore begone, And leaue vs here alone.Exeunt. I see that Zweno is master of his word. Zweno, William of Saxonie greeteth thee Either of Manchester. Either well or ill, according to thy intent. If well thou wish to him and Saxonie, He bids thee friendly welcome as he can: If ill thou wish to him and Saxonie, He must withstand thy malice as he may. Zweno. William, for other name and title giue I none To him, who were he worthie of those honours That Fortune and his predecessors left, I ought by right and humaine courtesie To grace his style with duke of Saxonie. But for I finde a base degenerate minde, I frame my speech according to the man, And not the state that he vnworthie holds. William. Herein Zweno dost thou abase thy state, To breake the peace which by our auncesters Hath heretofore been honourably kept. Zweno. And should that peace for euer haue been kept, Had not thy selfe beene author of the breach: Nor stands it with the honour of my state, Or nature of a father to his childe, That I should so be robbed of my daughter, And not vnto the vtmost of my power Reuenge so intolerable an iniurie. William. is this the colour of your quarrell Zweno? I well perceiue the wisest men may erre. And thinke you I conueied away your daughter Blanch? Zweno. art thou so impudent to deny thou didst When that the proofe thereof is manifest; William. What proofe is there? Zweno. Thine owne confession is sufficient proofe. William. Did I confesse I stole your daughter Blanch? Zweno. Thou didst confesse thou hadst a Ladie hence. William. I haue and do. Zweno. Why that was Blanch my daughter, William. Nay that was Mariana, VVho wrongfully thou detainest prisoner. Zweno The Millers daughter Zweno. Shamelesse persisting in thy ill, Thou doest maintaine a manifest vntroth, As shee shall iustifie vnto thy teeth. Rosilio, fetch her and the Marques hither. Exit Rosilio for Mariana. William. It cannot be I should be so deceiued. Demarch, I heare this night among the souldiers, That in their watch they tooke a pensiue Ladie: Who at the appoyntment of the Lord Dirot is yet in keeping: What shee is I know not, Onely thus much I ouer-hard by chance. William. And what of this? Demarch. It may be Blanch the King of Denmarkes daughter. VVilliam. It may be so: but on my life it is not; Yet Demarch, goe and fetch her straight. Enter Rosilio with the Marques. Rosilio. Pleaseth your highnes, here is the Marques and Mariana. Zweno, See here Duke VVilliam, your competitors, That were consenting to my daughters scape: Let them resolue you of the truth herein, And here I vow and solemnely protest, That in thy presence they shall lose their heads, Vnlesse I heare where as my daughter is. VVilliam. O Marques Lubeck how it grieueth me, That for my sake thou shouldest indure these bondes. Be iudge my soule that feeles the martirdome. Marques. Duke VVilliam, you know it is for your cause, It pleaseth thus the King to misconceiue of me, And for his pleasure doth me iniurie. Enter Demarch with the Ladie Blanch. Demarch. May it please your highnesse. Here is the Ladie you sent me for. VVilliam. Away Demarch, what tellest thou me of Ladies? I so of Manchester. I so detest the dealing of their sex, As that I count a louers state to be the base And vildest slauerie in the world. Demarch. VVhat humors are these? heres a strange alteration. Zweno. See Duke William, is this Blanch or no? You know her, if you see her I am sure. William. Zweno I was deceiued, yea vtterly deceiued, Yet this is shee: this same is Ladie Blanch. And for mine error, here I am content To do whatsoeuer Zweno shall set downe. Ah cruell Mariana thus to vse The man which loued and honoured thee with his heart. Mariana. VVhen first I came into your highnesse court, And William often importing me of loue: I did deuise to ease the griefe your daughter did sustain: Shee should meete Sir William masked as I it were. This put in proofe, did take so good effect, As yet it seemes his grace is not resolued, But it was I which he conueied away. William. May this be true? It cannot be but true. Was it Ladie Blanch which I conueied away? Vnconstant Mariana, Thus to deale with him which meant to thee nought but faith. Blanch. Pardon deere father my follies that are past, Wherein I haue neglected my dutie Which I in reuerence ought to shew your grace, For led by loue I thus haue gone astray, And now repent the errors I was in. Zweno. Stand vp deare daughter, though thy fault deserues For to be punisht in the extremest sort; Yet loue that couers multitude of sins Makes loue in parents winke at childrens faults. Sufficeth Blanch thy father loues thee so, Thy follies past he knowes, but will not know. And here Duke William take my daughter to thy wife. For well I am assured shee loues thee well. F William. The Millers daughter William. A proper coniunction: as who should say, Lately come out of the fire, I would goe thrust my selfe into the flame. Let Maistres nice go Saint it where shee list, And coyly quaint it with dissembling face, I hold in scorne the fooleries that they vse, I being free will neuer subiect my selfe To any such as shee is vnderneath the sunne. Zweno. Refusest thou to take my daughter to thy wife? I tell thee Duke, this rash deniall May bring more mischiefe on thee then thou canst avoyd: William. Conceit hath wrought such generall dislike Through the false dealing of Mariana, That vtterly I doe abhor their sex. They are all disloyall, vnconstant, all vniust: Who tries as I haue tried, And findes as I haue found, Will say there’s no such creatures on the ground. Blanch. Vnconstant Knight, though some deserue no trust, Thers others faithfull, louing, loyall, & iust. Enter to them Ualingford with Em and the Miller, And Mountney, and Manuile, and Elner. Willi. How now L. Ualingford, what makes these women here? Valingf. Here be two women, may it please your grace, That are contracted to one man, And are in strife whether shall haue him to their husband. William. Stand forth women and saie, To whether of you did he first giue his faith? Em. To me forsooth. Elner. To me my gratious Lord. William. Speake Manuile, to whether didst thou giue thy faith? Manuile. To saie the troth: this maide had first my loue. Elner. Yea Manuile, but there was no witnesse by. Em. Thy conscience Manuile is a hundred witnesses. Elner. of Manchester. Elner. Shee hath stolne a conscience to serue her own turne: But you are deceiued, yfaith he will none of you. Manuile. Indeed, dread Lord, so deere I held her loue, As in the same I put my whole delight. But some impediments which at that instant hapned, Made me forsake her quite, For which I had her fathers franke consent. William. What were the impediments? Manuile. Why shee could neither heare nor see. William. Now shee doth both. Mayden how were you cured? Em. Pardon my Lord, Ile tell your grace the troth, Be it not imputed to me as discredit. I loued this Manuile so much, that still me thought When he was absent did present to mee The forme and feature of that countenance Which I did shrine an Idol in my heart: And neuer could I see a man me thought That equald Manuile in my partiall eye. Nor was there any loue betweene vs lost, But that I held the same in high regard, Vntill repaire of some vnto our house, Of whom my Manuile grew thus iealous: As if he tooke exception I vouchsafed To heare them speake, or saw them when they came: On which I straight tooke order with my selfe To voyde the scruple of his conscience, By counterfaiting that I neither saw nor heard, Any wayes to rid my hands of them. All this I did to keepe my Manuiles loue, Which he vnkindly seekes for to reward. Manuile. And did my Em to keepe her faith with mee Dissemble that shee neither heard nor sawe. Pardon me sweet Em, for I am onely thine. Em. Lay off thy hands, disloyall as thou art, Nor shalt thou haue possession of my loue, That canst so finely shift thy matters off. F2 Put The Millers daughter Put case I had been blind and could not see, As often times such visitations falles That pleaseth God which all things doth dispose: Shouldest thou forsake me in regard of that? I tell thee Manuile, hadst thou beene blinde, Or deafe, or dumbe, or else what impediments Might befall to man, Em would haue loued, and kept, And honoured thee: yea, begg’d if wealth had fail’d For thy releefe. Manuile. Forgiue mee sweet Em. Em. I do forgiue thee with my heart, And will forget thee too if case I can: But neuer speake to mee, nor seeme to know mee. Manuile. Then fare well frost: Well fare a wench that will. Now Elner, J am thine owne my girle. Elner. Mine Manuile? thou neuer shalt be mine. I so detest thy villanie, That whilest I liue I will abhor thy company. Manuile. Is it come to this? of late, I had choyce of twaine On either side to haue me to her husband, And now am vtterly reiected of them both. Valingford. My Lord this gentleman when time was Stood some-thing in our light, And now I thinke it not amisse To laugh at him that sometime scorned at vs. Mountney. Content my Lord, inuent the forme. Valingford. Then thus. William. I see that women are not generall euils, Blanch is faire: Me thinkes I see in her, A modest countenance, a heauenly blush. Zweno, receiue a reconciled foe, Not as thy friend, but as thy sonne in law, If so that thou be thus content. Zweno. I ioy to see your grace so tractable. Here take my daughter Blanch, And of Manchester. And after my decease the Denmark Crowne. William. Now sir, how stands the case with you? Manuile. I partly am perswaded as your grace is, My Lord, he is best at ease that medleth least. Valingford. Sir, may a man be so bold As to craue a word with you? Manuile. Yea two or three: what are they? Valingford. I say, this maid will haue thee to her husband. Mount. And I say this: & thereof will I lay an hundred pound. Valingf. And I say this: whereon I will lay as much. Manuile. And I say neither: what say you to that? Mountney. If that be true: then are we both deceiued. Manuile. Why it is true, and you are both deceiued. Marques. In mine eyes, this is the proprest wench. Might I aduise thee, take her vnto thy wife. Zweno. It seemes to me, shee hath refused him. Marques. Why theres the spite. Zweno. If one refuse him, yet may he haue the other. Marques. He will aske but her good will, and all her friends. Zweno. Might I aduise thee, let them both alone. Manuile. Yea, thats the course, and thereon will I stand, Such idle loue henceforth I will detest. Valingford. The foxe will eat no grapes and why? Mountney. I know full well, because they hang too hie. William. And may it be a Millers daughter by her birth? I cannot thinke but shee is better borne. Valingford. Sir Thomas Goddard hight this reuerent man, Famed for his vertues and his good successe: Whose fame hath been renowmed through the world. William. Sir Thomas Goddard welcome to thy Prince, And faire Em, frolike with thy good father. As glad am I to find Sir Thomas Goddard. As good Sir Edmund Treford on the plaines: He like a shepherd, and thou our countrie Miller, Miller. And longer let not Goddard liue a day, Than he in honour loues his soueraigne. F3 William. The Millers daughter, & c. William. But say Sir Thomas, shall I giue thy daughter? Miller. Goddard and all that he hath Doth rest at the pleasure of your Maiestie. William. And what sayes Em to louely Valingford? It seemd he loued you well, That for your sake durst leaue his King. Em. Em rests at the pleasure of your highnes: And would I were a wife for his desert. William. Then here Lord Valingford, Receiue faire Em. Here take her, make her thy espoused wife. Then goe we in, that preparation may be made, To see these nuptials solemnely performed. Exeunt all. Sound drummes and Trumpets.