Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay, Quarto 1

Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay, Quarto 1 FBFB: Q1 Author Robert Greene Editor Christopher Matusiak Editor Christopher Hicklin Conversion and Remediation LEMDO Team Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada McMaster University Poculi Ludique Societas University of Waterloo University of Toronto Centre for Drama, Theatre & Performance Studies University of Victoria Friends of the ISE

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Quarto 1, 1594

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THE HONORABLE HISTORIE of frier Bacon, and frier Bongay. As it was plaid by her Maiesties seruants. Made by Robert Greene Maister of Arts.

LONDON, Printed for Edward White, and are to be sold at his shop, at the little North dore of Poules, at the signe of the Gun. 1594.

THE HONOVRABLE Historie of Frier Bacon. Enter, Edward the first malcontented with Lacy earle of Lin- colne, Iohn Warren earle of Sussex, and Ermsbie gentle - man: Raph Simnell the kings foole. Lacie. WHY lookes my lord like to a troubled skie, When heauens bright shine, is shadowed with a fogge: Alate we ran the deere and through the Lawndes Stript with our nagges the loftie frolicke bucks, That scudded fore the teisers like the wind, Nere was the Deere of merry Fresingfield, So lustily puld down by iolly mates, Nor sharde the Farmers such fat venison, So franckly dealt this hundred yeares before: Nor haue I seene my lord more frolicke in the chace, And now changde to a melancholie dumpe. Warren. After the Prince got to the keepers lodge And had been iocand in the house a while: Tossing of ale and milke in countrie cannes, Whether it was the countries sweete content: Or els the bonny damsell fild vs drinke That seemd so stately in her stammell red: Or that a qualme did crosse his stomacke then, But straight he fell into his passions. Ermsbie. Sirra Raphe, what say you to your maister, A3 Shall The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Shall he thus all amort liue malecontent. Raphe. Heerest thou Ned, nay looke if hee will speake to me. Edward. What sayst thou to me foole? Raphe. I pree thee tell me Ned, art thou in loue with the keepers daughter? Edward. How if I be, what then? Raphe. Why then sirha Ile teach thee how to deceiue loue. Edward. How Raphe. Raphe. Marrie sirha Ned, thou shalt put on my cap, and my coat, and my dagger, and I will put on thy clothes, and thy sword, and so thou shalt be my foole. Edward. And what of this? Raphe. Why so thou shalt beguile Loue, for Loue is such a proud scab, that he will neuer meddle with fooles nor children, Is not Raphes counsell good Ned. Edward. Tell me Ned Lacie, didst thou marke the mayd, How liuely in her country weedes she lookt: A bonier wench all Suffolke cannot yeeld, All Suffolke, nay all England holds none such. Raphe. Sirha, Will Ermsby, Ned is deceiued. Ermsbie. Why Raphe? Raphe. He saies all England hath no such, and I say, and Ile stand to it, there is one better in Warwickshire. VVarren. How proouest thou that Raphe? Raphe. Why is not the Abbot a learned man, and hath red many bookes, and thinkest thou he hath not more learning than thou to choose a bonny wench, yes I warrant thee by his whole grammer. Ermsby. A good reason Raphe. Edward. I tell the Lacie, that her sparkling eyes, Doe lighten forth sweet Loues alluring fire: And in her tresses she doth fold the lookes Of such as gaze vpon her golden haire, Her bashfull white mixt with the mornings red, Luna doth boast vpon her louely cheekes, Her The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Her front is beauties table where she paints, The glories of her gorgious excellence: Her teeth are shelues of pretious Margarites, Richly enclosed with ruddie curroll cleues. Tush Lacie, she is beauties ouermatch, If thou suruaist her curious imagerie. Lacie. I grant my lord the damsell is as faire, As simple Suffolks homely towns can yeeld: But in the court be quainter dames than she, Whose faces are enricht with honours taint, Whose bewties stand vpon the stage of fame, And vaunt their trophies in the courts of loue. Eda. Ah Ned, but hadst thou watcht her as my self, And seene the secret bewties of the maid, Their courtly coinesse were but foolery. Ermsbie. Why how watcht you her my lord? Edward. When as she swept like Venus through the house, And in her shape fast foulded vp my thoughtes: Into the Milkhouse went I with the maid, And there amongst the cream-boles she did shine, As Pallace, mongst her Princely huswiferie: She turnd her smocke ouer her Lilly armes, And diued them into milke to run her cheese: But whiter than the milke her christall skin, Checked with lines of Azur made her blush, That art or nature durst bring for compare, Ermsbie if thou hadst seene as I did note it well, How bewtie plaid the huswife, how this girle Like Lucrece laid her fingers to the worke, Thou wouldest with Tarquine hazard Roome and all To win the louely mayd of Fresingfield. Raphe. Sirha Ned, wouldst faine haue her? Edward. I Raphe. Raphe. Why Ned I haue laid the plot in my head thou shalt haue her alreadie. Edward. Ile giue thee a new coat and learne me that. Raphe. The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Raphe. Why sirra Ned weel ride to Oxford to Frier Bacon, oh he is a braue scholler sirra, they say he is a braue Nigromancer, that he can make women of deuils, and hee can iuggle cats into Costermongers. Edward. And how then Raphe? Raphe. Marry sirha thou shalt go to him, and because thy fa- ther Harry shall not misse thee, hee shall turne me into thee; and Ile to the Court, and Ile prince it out, and he shall make thee ei- ther a silken purse, full of gold, or else a fine wrought smocke. Edward. But how shall I haue the mayd? Raphe. Marry sirha, if thou beest a silken purse full of gold, then on sundaies sheele hang thee by her side, and you must not say a word, Now sir when she comes into a great prease of people, for feare of the cut-purse on a sodaine sheele swap thee into her plackerd, then sirha being there you may plead for yourselfe. Ermsbie. Excellent pollicie. Edward. But how if I be a wrought smocke. Raphe. Then sheele put thee into her chest and lay thee in- to Lauender, and vpon some good day sheele put thee on, and at night when you go to bed, then being turnd from a smocke to a man, you may make vp the match. Lacie. Wonderfully wisely counselled Raphe. Edward. Raphe shall haue a new coate. Raphe. God thanke you when I haue it on my backe Ned, Edward. Lacie the foole hath laid a perfect plot, For why our countrie Margret is so coy, And standes so much vpon her honest pointes, That marriage or no market with the mayd: Ermsbie, it must be nigromaticke spels, And charmes of art that must inchaine her loue, Or else shall Edward neuer win the girle, Therefore my wags weele horse vs in the morne, And post to Oxford to this iolly Frier, Bacon shall by his magicke doe this deed. Warren. Content my lord, and thats a speedy way To weane these head-strong puppies from the teat, I The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Edward. I am vnknowne, not taken for the Prince, They onely deeme vs frolicke Courtiers, That reuell thus among our lieges game: Therefore I haue deuised a pollicie, Lacie, thou knowst next friday is S. Iames, And then the country flockes to Harlston faire, Then will the keepers daughter frolicke there, And ouer-shine the troupe of all the maids, That come to see, and to be seene that day. Haunt thee disguisd among the countrie swaines, Fain thart a farmers sonne, not far from thence, Espie her loues, and who she liketh best: Coat him, and court her to controll the clowne, Say that the Courtier tyred all in greene, That helpt her handsomly to run her cheese, And fild her fathers lodge with venison, Commends him, and sends fairings to herselfe, Buy some thing worthie of her parentage, Not worth her beautie for Lacie then the faire, Affoords no Iewell fitting for the mayd: And when thou talkest of me, note if she blush, Oh then she loues, but if her cheekes waxe pale, Disdaine it is. Lacie send how she fares, And spare no time nor cost to win her loues. Lacie. I will my lord so execute this charge, As if that Lacie were in loue with her. Edward. Send letters speedily to Oxford of the newes. Raphe. And sirha Lacie, buy me a thousand thousand milli- on of fine bels. Lacie. What wilt thou doe with them Raphe? Raphe. Mary euery time that Ned sighs for the keepers daughter, Ile tie a bell about him, and so within three or foure daies I will send word to his father Harry, that his sonne and my maister Ned is become Loues morris dance. Edward. Well Lacie, looke with care vnto thy charge, And I will hast to Oxford to the Frier, B That The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. That he by art, and thou by secret gifts, Maist make me lord of merrie Fresingfield. Lacie. God send your honour your harts desire. Exeunt. Enter frier Bacon, with Miles his poore scholer with bookes vnder his arme, with them Burden, Mason, Clement, three doctors. Bacon. Miles where are you? Miles. Hic sum dostissime & reuerendissime doctor. Bacon. Attulisti nos libros meos de Necromantia. Miles. Ecce quam bonum & quam iocundum, habitares libros in vnum. Bacon. Now maisters of our Academicke state, That rule in Oxford Vizroies in your place, Whose heads containe Maps of the liberall arts, Spending your time in deapth of learned skill, Why flocke you thus to Bacons secret Cell, A Frier newly stalde in Brazennose, Say whats your mind, that I may make replie. Burden. Bacon we hear, that long we haue suspect, That thou art read in Magicks mysterie, In Piromancie to diuine by flames, To tell by Hadromaticke, ebbes and tides, By Aeromancie, to discouer doubts, To plaine out questions, as Apollo did. Bacon. Well maister Burden, what of all this? Miles. Marie sir he doth but fulfill by rehearsing of these names the Fable of the Fox and the grapes, that which is aboue vs, pertains nothing to vs. Burden. I tell thee Bacon, Oxford makes report, Nay England, and the court of Henrie saies, Thart making of a brazen head by art, Which shall vnfold strange doubts and Aphorismes, And read a lecture in Philosophie, And The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. And by the helpe of Diuels and ghastly fiends, Thou meanst ere many yeares or daies be past, To compasse England with a wall of brasse. Bacon. And what of this? Miles. What of this maister, why he doth speak mystically, for he knowes if your skill faile to make a brazen head, yet mo- ther waters strong ale will fit his turne to make him haue a cop- per nose. Clement. Bacon we come not greeuing at thy skill, But ioieng that our Academie yeelds A man supposde the woonder of the world, For if thy cunning worke these myracles, England and Europe shall admire thy fame, And Oxford shall in characters of brasse, And statues, such as were built vp in Rome, Eternize Frier Bacon for his art. Mason. Then gentle Frier, tell vs thy intent. Bacon. Seeing you come as friends vnto the frier Resolue you doctors, Bacon can by bookes, Make storming Boreas thunder from his caue, And dimme faire Luna to a darke Eclipse, The great arch-ruler, potentate of hell, Trembles, when Bacon bids him, or his fiends, Bow to the force of his Pentageron. What art can worke, the frolicke frier knowes, And therefore will I turne my Magicke bookes, And straine out Nigromancie to the deepe, I haue contrivd and framde a head of brasse, (I made Belcephon hammer out the stuffe) And that by art shall read Philosophie, And I will strengthen England by my skill, That if ten Cæ sars livd and raignd in Rome, With all the legions Europe doth containe, They should not touch a grasse of English ground, The worke that Ninus reard at Babylon, The brazen walles framde by Semiramis, B2 Carued The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Carued out like to the portall of the sunne, Shall not be such as rings the English strond: From Douer to the market place of Rie. Burden. Is this possible? Miles. Ile bring ye to or three witnesses. Burden. What be those? Miles. Marry sir three or foure as honest diuels, and good companions as any be in hell. Mason. No doubt but magicke may doe much in this, For he that reades but Mathematicke rules, Shall finde conclusions that auaile to worke, Wonders that passe the common sense of men. Burden. But Bacon roues a bow beyond his reach, And tels of more than magicke can performe: Thinking to get a fame by fooleries, Haue I not past as farre in state of schooles: And red of many secrets, yet to thinke, That heads of Brasse can vtter any voice, Or more, to tell of deepe philosophie, This is a fable Æsop had forgot. Bacon. Burden, thou wrongst me in detracting thus, Bacon loues not to stuffe himselfe with lies: But tell me fore these Doctors if thou dare, Of certaine questions I shall moue to thee. Burden. I will aske what thou can. Miles. Marrie sir heele straight be on your pickpacke to knowe whether the feminine or the masculin gender be most worthie. Bacon. Were you not yesterday maister Burden at Henly vpon the Thembs? Burden. I was, what then? Bacon. What booke studied you there on all night? Burden. I, none at all I red not there a line. Bacon. Then doctors, Frier Bacons art knowes nought. Clement. What say you to this maister Burden doth hee not touch you? Burden The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Burden. I passe not of his friuolous speeches. Miles. Nay maister Burden, my maister ere hee hath done with you, will turne you from a doctor to a dunce, and shake you so small, that he will leaue no more learning in you than is in Ba- laams Asse. Bacon. Maisters, for that learned Burdens skill is deepe, And sore he doubts of Bacons Cabalisme: Ile shew you why he haunts to Henly oft, Not doctors for to tast the fragrant aire: But there to spend the night in Alcumie, To multiplie with secret spels of art. Thus priuat steales he learning from vs all, To prooue my sayings true, Ile shew you straight, The booke he keepes at Henly for himselfe. Miles. Nay now my maister goes to coniuration, take heede. Bacon. Maisters stand still, feare not, Ile shewe you but his booke. Heere he coniures. Per omnes deos infernales Belcephon. Enter a woman with a shoulder of mutton on a spit, and a Deuill. Miles. Oh maister cease your coniuration, or you spoile all, for heeres a shee diuell come with a shoulder of mutton on a spit, you haue mard the diuels supper, but no doubt hee thinkes our Col- ledge fare is slender, and so hath sent you his cooke with a shoul- der of mutton to make it exceed. Hostesse. Oh where am I, or whats become of me. Bacon. What art thou? Hostesse. Hostesse at Henly mistresse of the Bell. Bacon. How camest thou heere. Hostesse. As I was in the kitchen mongst the maydes, Spitting the meate against supper for my guesse: A motion mooued me to looke forth of dore. B3 No The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. No sooner had I pried into the yard, But straight a whirlewind hoisted me from thence, And mounted me aloft vnto the cloudes: As in a trance I thought nor feared nought, Nor know I where or whether I was tane: Nor where I am, nor what these persons be. Bacon. No, know you not maister Burden. Hostesse. Oh yes good sir, he is my daily guest, What maister Burden, twas but yesternight, That you and I at Henly plaid at cardes. Burden. I knowe not what we did, a poxe of all coniuring Friers. Clement. Now iolly Frier tell vs, is this the booke that Burden is so carefull to looke on? Bacon. It is, but Burden tell me now, Thinkest thou that Bacons Nicromanticke skill, Cannot performe his head and wall of Brasse, When he can fetch thine hostesse in such post. Miles. Ile warrant you maister, if maister Burden could con- iure as well as you, hee would haue his booke euerie night from Henly to study on at Oxford. Mason. Burden what are you mated by this frolicke Frier, Looke how he droops, his guiltie conscience Driues him to bash and makes his hostesse blush. Bacon. Well mistres for I wil not haue you mist, You shall to Henly to cheere vp your guests Fore supper ginne, Burden bid her adew, Say farewell to your hostesse fore she goes, Sirha away, and set her safe at home. Hostesse. Maister Burden, when shall we see you at Henly. Exeunt Hostesse and the Deuill. Burden. The deuill take thee and Henly too. Miles. Maister shall I make a good motion. Bacon. Whats that? Miles. Marry sir nowe that my hostesse is gone to prouide supper, The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. supper, coniure vp an other spirite, and send doctor Burden fly- ing after. Bacon. Thus rulers of our Accademicke state, You haue seene the Frier frame his art by proofe: And as the colledge called Brazennose, Is vnder him and he the maister there: So surely shall this head of brasse be framde, And yeeld forth strange and vncoth Aphorismes: And Hell and Heccate shall faile the Frier, But I will circle England round with brasse. Miles. So be it,& nunc & semper, Amen. Exeunt omnes. Enter Margaret the faire mayd of Fresingfield, with Thomas and Ione, and other clownes: Lacie disguised in countrie apparell. Thomas. By my troth Margret heeres a wether is able to make a man call his father whorson, if this wether hold wee shall haue hay good cheape, and butter and cheese at Harlston will beare no price. Margret. Thomas, maides when they come to see the faire, Count not to make a cope for dearth of hay, When we haue turnd our butter to the salt, And set our cheese safely vpon the rackes. Then let our fathers prise it as they please, We countrie sluts of merry Fresingfield, Come to buy needlesse noughts to make vs fine, And looke that yong-men should be francke this day, And court vs with such fairings as they can. Phæbus is blythe and frolicke lookes from heauen, As when he courted louely Semele: Swearing the pedlers shall haue emptie packs, If that faire wether may make chapmen buy. Lacie. But louely Peggie Semele is dead, And therefore Phæbus from his pallace pries, And The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. And seeing such a sweet and seemly saint, Shewes all his glories for to court your selfe. Margret. This is a fairing gentle sir indeed, To sooth me vp with such smooth flatterie, But learne of me your scoffes to broad before: Well Ione our bewties must abide their iestes, We serue the turne in iolly Fresingfield. Ione. Margret, a farmers daughter for a farmers sonne, I warrant you the meanest of vs both, Shall haue a mate to leade vs from the Church: But Thomas whats the newes? what in a dumpe. Giue me your hand, we are neere a pedlers shop, Out with your purse we must haue fairings now. Thomas. Faith Ione and shall, Ile bestow a fairing on you, and then we will to the Tauern, and snap off a pint of wine or two. All this while Lacie whispers Margret in the eare. Margret. Whence are you sir, of Suffolke, for your tearmes are finer than the common sort of men? Lacie. Faith louely girle, I am of Beckles by, Your neighbour not aboue six miles from hence, A farmers sonne that neuer was so quaint, But that he could do courtesie to such dames: But trust me Margret I am sent in charge, From him that reueld in your fathers house, And fild his Lodge with cheere and venison, Tyred in greene, he sent you this rich purse: His token, that he helpt you run your cheese, And in the milkhouse chatted with your selfe. Margret. To me, you forget your selfe. Lacie. Women are often weake in memorie. Margret. Oh pardon sir, I call to mind the man, Twere little manners to refuse his gift, And yet I hope he sends it not for loue: For we haue little leisure to debate of that. Ione. The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Ione. What Margret blush not, mayds must haue their loues. Thomas. Nay by the masse she lookes pale as if she were angrie. Richard. Sirha are you of Beckls? I pray how dooth good- man Cob, my father bought a horse of him, Ile tell you Marget, a were good to be a gentlemans iade, for of all things the foule hilding could not abide a doongcart. Margret. How different is this farmer from the rest, That earst as yet hath pleasd my wandring sight, His words are wittie, quickened with a smile, His courtesie gentle, smelling of the court, Facill and debonaire in all his deeds, Proportiond as was Paris, when in gray, He courted Aenon in the vale by Troy. Great lords haue come and pleaded for my loue, Who but the keepers lasse of Fresingfield, And yet me thinks this Farmers iolly sonne, Passeth the prowdest that hath pleasd mine eye. But Peg disclose not that thou art in loue, And shew as yet no signe of loue to him, Although thou well wouldst wish him for thy loue Keepe that to thee till time doth serue thy turne, To shew the greefe wherein thy heart doth burne. Come Ione and Thomas, shall we to the faire, You Beckls man will not forsake vs now, Lacie. Not whilst I may haue such quaint girls as you, Margret. Well if you chaunce to come by Fresingfield, Make but a step into the keepers lodge, And such poore fare as Woodmen can affoord, Butter and cheese, creame, and fat venison, You shall haue store, and welcome therewithall. Lacie. Gramarcies Peggie, looke for me eare long. Exeunt omnes. C Enter The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Enter Henry the third, the emperour, the king of Castile, Elinor his daughter, Iaques Vandermast a Germaine. Henrie. Great men of Europe, monarks of the West, Ringd with the wals of old Oceanus, Whose loftie surges like the battelments, That compast high built Babell in with towers, Welcome my lords, welcome braue westerne kings, To Englands shore, whose promontorie cleeues, Shewes Albion is another little world, Welcome sayes English Henrie to you all, Chiefly vnto the louely Eleanour, Who darde for Edwards sake cut through the seas, And venture as Agenors damsell through the deepe, To get the loue of Henries wanton sonne. Castile. Englands rich Monarch braue Plantagenet, The Pyren mounts swelling aboue the clouds, That ward the welthie Castile in with walles, Could not detaine the beautious Eleanour, But hearing of the fame of Edwards youth, She darde to brooke Neptunus haughtie pride, And bide the brunt of froward Eolus, Then may faire England welcome her the more. Elinor. After that English Henrie by his lords, Had sent prince Edwards louely counterfeit, A present to the Castile Elinor, The comly pourtrait of so braue a man, The vertuous fame discoursed of his deeds, Edwards couragious resolution, Done at the holy land fore Damas walles, Led both mine eye and thought in equall links, To like so of the English Monarchs sonne, That I attempted perrils for his sake. Emperour. Where is the Prince, my lord? Henrie. He posted down, not long since from the court, To The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. To Suffolke side, to merrie Fremingham, To sport himselfe amongst my fallow deere, From thence by packets sent to Hampton house, We heare the Prince is ridden with his lords, To Oxford, in the Academie there, To heare dispute amongst the learned men, But we will send foorth letters for my sonne, To will him come from Oxford to the court. Empe. Nay rather Henrie let vs as we be, Ride for to visite Oxford with our traine, Faine would I see your Vniuersities, And what learned men your Academie yields, From Haspurg haue I brought a learned clarke, To hold dispute with English Orators. This doctor surnamde Iaques Vandermast, A Germaine borne, past into Padua, To Florence, and to faire Bolonia, To Paris, Rheims, and stately Orleans, And talking there with men of art, put downe The chiefest of them all in Aphorismes, In Magicke, and the Mathematicke rules, Now let vs Henrie trie him in your schooles. Henrie. He shal my lord, this motion likes me wel, Weele progresse straight to Oxford with our trains, And see what men our Academie bringes. And woonder Vandermast welcome to me In Oxford shalt thou find a iollie frier, Cald Frier Bacon, Englands only flower Set him but Non-plus in his magicke spels, And make him yeeld in Mathematicke rules, And for thy glorie I will bind thy browes, Not with a poets garland made of Baies, But with a coronet of choicest gold, Whilst then we fit to Oxford with our troupes, Lets in and banquet in our English court. Exit. C2 Enter The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Enter Raphe Simnell in Edwardes apparrell, Ed - ward, Warren, Ermsby disguised. Raphe. Where be these vacabond knaues that they attend no better on their maister? Edward. If it please your honour we are all ready at an inch. Raphe. Sirha Ned, Ile haue no more post horse to ride on, Ile haue another fetch. Ermsbie. I pray you how is that my Lord? Raphe. Marrie sir, Ile send to the Ile of Eely for foure or fiue dozen of Geese, and Ile haue them tide six and six together with whipcord, Now vpon their backes will I haue a faire field bed, with a Canapie, and so when it is my pleasure Ile flee into what place I please; this will be easie. Warren. Your honour hath said well, but shall we to Brasen- nose Colledge before we pull off our bootes. Ermsbie. Warren well motioned, wee will to the Frier Before we reuell it within the towne. Raphe see you keepe your countenance like a Prince. Raphe. Wherefore haue I such a companie of cutting knaues to wait vpon me, but to keep and defend my countenance against all mine enemies: haue you not good swords and bucklers. Enter Bacon and Miles. Ermsbie. Stay who comes heere. Warren. Some scholler, and weele aske him where Frier Ba- con is. Bacon. Why thou arrant dunce shal I neuer make thee good scholler, doth not all the towne crie out, and say, Frier Bacons subsi ser is the greatest blockhead in all Oxford, why thou canst not speake one word of true Latine. Miles. No sir, yes what is this els; Ego sum tuus homo, I am your man, I warrant you sir as good Tullies phrase as any is in Oxford. Bacon. The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Bacon. Come on sirha, what part of speech is Ego. Miles. Ego, that is I, marrie nomen substantiuo. Bacon. How prooue you that? Miles. Why sir let him prooue himselfe and a will, I can be hard felt and vnderstood. Bacon. Oh grosse dunce. Here beate him. Edw. Come let vs breake off this dispute between these two. Sirha, where is Brazennose Colledge. Miles. Not far from Copper-smithes hall. Edward. What doest thou mocke me. Miles. Not I sir, but what would you at Brazennose? Ermsbie. Marrie we would speake with frier Bacon. Miles. Whose men be you. Ersmbie. Marrie scholler heres our maister. Raphe. Sirha I am the maister of these good fellowes, mayst thou not know me to be a Lord by my reparrell. Miles. Then heeres good game for the hawke, for heers the maister foole, and a couie of Cockscombs, one wise man I thinke would spring you all. Edward. Gogs wounds Warren kill him. VVarren. Why Ned I thinke the deuill be in my sheath, I cannot get out my dagger. Ermsbie. Nor I mine, Swones Ned I thinke I am bewitcht. Miles. A companie of scabbes, the proudest of you all drawe your weapon if he can, See how boldly I speake now my maister is by. Edward. I striue in vaine, but if my sword be shut, And coniured fast by magicke in my sheath, Villaine heere is my fist. Strike him a box on the eare. Miles. Oh I beseech you coniure his hands too, that he may not lift his armes to his head, for he is light fingered. Raphe. Ned strike him, Ile warrant thee by mine honour. Bacon. What meanes the English prince to wrong my man, Edward. To whom speakest thou. C3 Bacon. The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Bacon. To thee. Edward. Who art thou. Bacon. Could you not iudge when all your swords grew fast, That frier Bacon was not farre from hence: Edward king Henries sonne and Prince of Wales, Thy foole disguisd cannot conceale thy selfe, I know both Ermsbie and the Sussex Earle, Els Frier Bacon had but little skill. Thou comest in post from merrie Fresingfield, Fast fancied to the keepers bonny lasse, To craue some succour of the iolly Frier, And Lacie Eare of Lincolne hast thou left, To treat faire Margret to allow thy loues: But friends are men, and loue can baffle lords. The Earle both woes and courtes her for himselfe. VVarren. Ned this is strange, the frier knoweth al. Ermsbie. Appollo could not vtter more than this. Edward. I stand amazed to heare this iolly Frier, Tell euen the verie secrets of my thoughts: But learned Bacon since thou knowest the cause, Why I did post so fast from Fresingfield. Helpe Frier at a pinch, that I may haue The loue of louely Margret to my selfe, And as I am true Prince of Wales, Ile giue Liuing and lands to strength thy colledge state. VVarren. Good Frier helpe the Prince in this. Raphe. Why seruant Ned, will not the frier doe it. Were not my sword glued to my scabberd by coniuration, I would cut off his head and make him do it by force. Miles. In faith my lord, your manhood and your sword is all alike, they are so fast coniured that we shall neuer see them. Ermsbie. Wat doctor in a dumpe, tush helpe the prince, And thou shalt see how liberall he will prooue, Bacon. Craue not such actions, greater dumps than these, I will my lord straine out my magicke spels, For this day comes the earle to Fresingfield, And The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. And fore that night shuts in the day with darke, Theile be betrothed ech to other fast: But come with me, weele to my studie straight, And in a glasse prospectiue I will shew Whats done this day in merry Fresingfield. Edward. Gramercies Bacon, I will quite thy paine. Bacon. But send your traine my lord into the towne, My scholler shall go bring them to their Inne: Meane while weele see the knauerie of the earle. Edward. Warren leaue me and Ermsbie, take the foole, Let him be maister and go reuell it, Till I and Frier Bacon talke a while. VVarren. We will my lord. Raphe. Faith Ned and Ile lord it out till thou comest, Ile be Prince of Wales ouer all the blacke pots in Oxford. Exeunt. Bacon and Edward goes into the study. Bacon. Now frolick Edward, welcome to my Cell, Heere tempers Frier Bacon many toies: And holds this place his consi storie court, Wherin the diuels pleads homage to his words, Within this glasse prospectiue thou shalt see This day whats done in merry Fresingfield, Twixt louely Peggie and the Lincolne earle. Edward. Frier thou gladst me, now shall Edward trie, How Lacie meaneth to his soueraigne lord. Bacon. Stand there and looke directly in the glasse, Enter Margret and Frier Bungay. Bacon. What sees my lord. Edward. I see the keepers louely lasse appeare, As bright-sunne as the parramour of Mars, Onely The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Onely attended by a iolly frier. Bacon. Sit still and keepe the christall in your eye, Margret. But tell me frier Bungay is it true, That this faire courtious countrie swaine, Who saies his father is a farmer nie, Can be lord Lacie earle of Lincolnshire. Bungay. Peggie tis true, tis Lacie for my life, Or else mine art and cunning both doth faile. Left by prince Edward to procure his loues, For he in greene that holpe you runne your cheese, Is sonne to Henry and the prince of Wales. Margret. Be what he will his lure is but for lust. But did lord Lacie like poore Margret, Or would he daine to wed a countrie lasse, Frier, I would his humble handmayd be, And for great wealth, quite him with courtesie. Bungay. Why Margret doest thou loue him. Margret. His personage like the pride of vaunting Troy, Might well auouch to shadow Hellens cape: His wit is quicke and readie in conceit, As Greece affoorded in her chiefest prime Courteous, ah Frier full of pleasing smiles, Trust me I loue too much to tell thee more, Suffice to me he is Englands parramour. Bungay. Hath not ech eye that viewd thy pleasing face, Surnamed thee faire maid of Fresingfield. Margret. Yes Bungay, and would God the louely Earle Had that in esse, that so many sought. Bungay. Feare not, the Frier will not be behind, To shew his cunning to entangle loue. Edward. I thinke the Frier courts the bonny wench, Bacon, me thinkes he is a lustie churle. Bacon. Now looke my lord. Enter Lacie. Edward. Gogs wounds Bacon heere comes Lacie. Bacon. The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Bacon. Sit still my lord and marke the commedie. Bungay. Heeres Lacie, Margret step aside awhile. Lacie. Daphne the damsell, that caught Phæbus fast, And lockt him in the brightnesse of her lookes, Was not so beautious in Appollos eyes, As is faire Margret to the Lincolne earle, Recant thee Lacie thou art put in trust, Edward thy soueraignes sonne hath chosen thee A secret friend to court her for himselfe: And darest thou wrong thy Prince with trecherie. Lacie, loue makes no acception of a friend, Nor deemes it of a Prince, but as a man: Honour bids thee controll him in his lust, His wooing is not for to wed the girle, But to intrap her and beguile the lasse: Lacie thou louest, then brooke not such abuse, But wed her, and abide thy Princes frowne: For better die, then see her liue disgracde. Margret. Come Frier I will shake him from his dumpes, How cheere you sir, a penie for your thought: Your early vp, pray God it be the neere, What come from Beckles in a morne so soone. Lacie. Thus watchfull are such men as liue in loue, Whose eyes brooke broken slumbers for their sleepe, I tell thee Peggie since last Harlston faire, My minde hath felt a heape of passions. Margret. A trustie man that court it for your friend, Woo you still for the courtier all in greene. I maruell that he sues not for himselfe. Lacie. Peggie, I pleaded first to get your grace for him, But when mine eies suruaid your beautious lookes Loue like a wagge, straight diued into my heart, And there did shrine the Idea of your selfe: Pittie me though I be a farmers sonne, And measure not my riches but my loue. Margret. You are verie hastie for to garden well, D Seedes The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Seeds must haue time to sprout before they spring, Loue ought to creepe as doth the dials shade, For timely ripe is rotten too too soone. Bungay. Deus hic, roome for a merry Frier, What youth of Beckles, with the keepers lasse, Tis well, but tell me heere you any newes. Margret. No, Frier what newes. Bungay. Heere you not how the purseuants do post, With proclamations through ech country towne: Lacie. For what gentle frier tell the newes. Bungay. Dwelst thou in Beckles & heerst not of these news, Lacie the Earle of Lincolne is late fled From Windsor court disguised like a swaine, And lurkes about the countrie heere vnknowne. Henrie suspects him of some trecherie, And therefore doth proclaime in euery way, That who can take the Lincolne earle, shall haue Paid in the Exchequer twentie thousand crownes. Lacie. The earle of Lincoln, Frier thou art mad, It was some other, thou mistakest the man: The earle of Lincolne, why it cannot be. Margret. Yes verie well my lord, for you are he, The keepers daughter tooke you prisoner, Lord Lacie yeeld, Ile be your gailor once. Edward. How familiar they be Bacon. Bacon. Sit still and marke the sequell of their loues. Lacie. Then am I double prisoner to thy selfe, Peggie, I yeeld, but are these newes iniest, Margret. In iest with you, but earnest vnto me: For why, these wrongs do wring me at the heart, Ah how these earles and noble men of birth, Flatter and faine to forge poore womens ill. Lacie. Beleeue me lasse, I am the Lincolne earle, I not denie, but tyred thus in rags I liued disguisd to winne fair Peggies loue. Margret. What loue is there where wedding ends not loue? Lacie. The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Lacie. I meant faire girle to make thee Lacies wife. Margret. I litle thinke that earles wil stoop so low, Lacie. Say, shall I make thee countesse ere I sleep. Marg. Handmaid vnto the earle so please himselfe A wife in name, but seruant in obedience. Lacie. The Lincolne countesse, for it shalbe so, Ile plight the bands and seale it with a kisse. Edward. Gogs wounds Bacon they kisse, Ile stab them, Bacon. Oh hold your handes my lord it is the glasse. Edward. Coller to see the traitors gree so well, Made me thinke the shadowes substances. Bacon. Twere a long poinard my lord, to reach betweene Oxford and Fresingfield, but sit still and see more. Bungay. Well lord of Lincolne, if your loues be knit, And that your tongues and thoughts do both agree: To auoid insuing iarres, Ile hamper vp the match, Ile take my portace forth, and wed you heere, Then go to bed and seale vp your desires. Lacie. Frier content, Peggie how like you this? Margret. What likes my lord is pleasing vnto me. Bungay. Then hand-fast hand, and I wil to my booke, Bacon. What sees my lord now. Edward. Bacon, I see the louers hand in hand, The Frier readie with his portace there, To wed them both, then am I quite vndone, Bacon helpe now, if ere thy magicke serude, Helpe Bacon, stop the marriage now, If diuels or nigromansie may suffice, And I will giue thee fourtie thousand crownes. Bacon. Feare not my lord, Ile stop the iolly Frier, For mumbling vp his orisons this day. Lacie. VVhy speakst not Bungay, Frier to thy booke. Bungay is mute, crying Hud hud. Margret. How lookest thou frier, as a man disttaught, D2 Reft The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Reft of thy sences Bungay, shew by signes If thou be dum what passions holdeth thee. Lacie. Hees dumbe indeed: Bacon hath with his diuels Inchanted him, or else some strange disease, Or Appoplexie hath possest his lungs: But Peggie what he cannot with his booke Weele twixt vs both vnite it vp in heart. Margret. Els let me die my lord a miscreant. Edward. Why stands frier Bacon so amazd. Bacon. I haue strook him dum my lord, & if your honor please Ile fetch this Bungay straightway from Fresingfield, And he shall dine with vs in Oxford here. Edward. Bacon, doe that and thou contentest me, Lacie. Of courtesie Margret let vs lead the frier Vnto thy fathers lodge, to comfort him With brothes to bring him from this haplesse trance. Margret. Or els my lord, we were passing vnkinde To leaue the frier so in his distresse. Enter a deuill, and carrie Bungay on his backe Margret. O helpe my lord, a deuill, a deuill my lord, Looke how he carries Bungay on his backe: Lets hence for Bacons spirits be abroad. Exeunt. Edward. Bacon I laugh to see the iolly Frier Mounted vpon the diuell, and how the earle Flees with his bonny lasse for feare, Assoone as Bungay is at Brazennose, And I haue chatted with the merrie frier, I will in post hie me to Fresingfield, And quite these wrongs on Lacie ere it be long, Bacon. So be it my lord, but let vs to our dinner: For ere we haue taken our repast awhile, We The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. We shall haue Bungay brought to Brazennose. Exeunt. Enter three doctors, Burden, Mason, Clement. Mason. Now that we are gathered in the regent house, It fits vs talke about the kings repaire, For he troopt with all the westerne kings That lie alongst the Dansick seas by East, North by the clime of frostie Germanie, The Almain Monarke, and the Scocon duke, Castile, and louely Ellinor with him, Haue in their iests resolued for Oxford towne. Burden. We must lay plots of stately tragedies, Strange comick showes, such as proud Rossius Vaunted before the Romane Emperours. Clement. To welcome all the westerne Potentates But more the king by letters hath foretold, That Fredericke the Almaine Emperour Hath brought with him a Germane of esteeme, Whose surname is Don Iaquesse Vandermast, Skilfull in magicke and those secret arts. Mason. Then must we all make sute vnto the frier, To Frier Bacon that he vouch this taske, And vndertake to counteruaile in skill The German, els theres none in Oxford can, Match and dispute with learned Vandermast. Burden. Bacon, if he will hold the German play, Weele teach him what an English Frier can doe: The diuell I thinke dare not dispute with him. Clement. Indeed mas doctor he pleasured you, In that he brought your hostesse with her spit, From Henly posting vnto Brazennose. Burden. A vengeance on the Frier for his paines, But leauing that, lets hie to Bacon straight, D3 To The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. To see if he will take this taske in hand. Clement. Stay what rumor is this, the towne is vp in a mu- tinie, what hurly burlie is this? Enter a Constable, with Raphe, Warren, Ermsbie and Miles. Constable. Nay maisters if you were nere so good, you shall before the doctors to aunswer your misdemeanour. Burden. Whats the matter fellow? Constable. Marie sir, heres a companie of rufflers that drin- king in the Tauerne haue made a great braule, and almost kilde the vintner. Miles. Salue doctor Burden, this lubberly lurden, Ill shapte and ill faced, disdaind and disgraced, What he tels vnto vobis, mentitur de nobis. Burden. Who is the maister and cheefe of this crew? Miles. Ecce asinum mundi, fugura rotundi, Neat sheat and fine, as briske as a cup of wine. Burden. What are you? Raphe. I am father doctor as a man would say, the Belwe- ther of this cõpany company , these are my lords, and I the prince of Wales. Clement. Are you Edward the kings sonne? Raphe. Sirra Miles, bring hither the tapster that drue the wine, and I warrant when they see how soundly I haue broke his head, theile say twas done by no lesse man than a prince. Mason. I cannot beleeue that this is the prince of Wales. Warren. And why so sir? Mason. For they say the prince is a braue & a wise gentleman. VVar. Why and thinkest thou doctor that he is not so? Darst thou detract and derogat from him, Being so louely and so braue a youth. Ermsbie. Whose face shining with many a sugred smile, Bewraies that he is bred of princely race. Miles. And yet maister doctor, to speake like a proctor, And tell vnto you, what is veriment and true, To cease of this quarrell, look but on his apparrell, Then The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Then mark but my talis, he is great prince of Walis, The cheefe of our gregis , and filius regis , Then ware what is done, for he is Henries white sonne. Raphe. Doctors whose doting nightcaps are not capable of my ingenious dignitie, know that I am Edward Plantagenet, whom if you displease, will make a shippe that shall hold all your colleges, and so carrie away the Niniuersitie with a fayre wind, to the Bankeside in Southwarke, how sayst thou Ned Warraine, shall I not do it? VVarren. Yes my good lord, and if it please your lordship, I wil gather vp al your old pantophles, and with the corke, make you a Pinnis of fiue hundred tunne, that shall serue the turne maruellous well, my lord. Ermsbie. And I my lord will haue Pioners to vndermine the towne, that the very Gardens and orchards be carried away for your summer walkes. Miles. And I with scientia, and great diligentia, Will coniure and charme, to keepe you from harme, That vtrum horum mauis, your very great nauis, Like Bartlets ship, from Oxford do skip, With Colleges and schooles, full loaden with fooles, Quid dices ad hoc, worshipfull domine Dawcocke. Clement. Why harebraind courtiers, are you drunke or mad, To taunt vs vp with such scurilitie, Deeme you vs men of base and light esteeme, To bring vs such a fop for Henries sonne, Call out the beadls and conuay them hence, Straight to Bocardo, let the roisters lie Close clapt in bolts, vntill their wits be tame. Ermsbie. Why shall we to prison my lord? Raphe. What saist Miles, shall I honour the prison with my (presence? Miles. No no, out with your blades, and hamper these iades, Haue a flurt and a crash, now play reuell dash, And teach these Sacerdos, that the Bocardos, Like pezzants and elues, are meet for themselues. Mason. To the prison with them constable. Well The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Warren. Well doctors seeing I haue sported me, With laughing at these mad and merrie wagges, Know that prince Edward is at Brazennose, And this attired like the prince of Wales, Is Raphe, king Henries only loued foole, I, earle of Essex, and this Ermsbie One of the priuie chamber to the king, Who while the prince with Frier Bacon staies, Haue reueld it in Oxford as you see. Mason. My lord pardon vs, we knew not what you were, But courtiers may make greater skapes than these, Wilt please your honour dine with me to day? VVarren. I will maister doctor, and satisfie the vintner for his hurt, only I must desire you to imagine him all this forenoon the prince of Wales. Mason. I will sir. Raphe. And vpon that I will lead the way, onely I will haue Miles go before me, because I haue heard Henrie say, that wise- dome must go before Maiestie. Exeunt omnes. Enter prince Edward with his poinard in his hand, Lacie and Margret. Edward. Lacie thou canst not shroud thy traitrous thoughts, Nor couer as did Cassius all his wiles, For Edward hath an eye that lookes as farre, As Lincæus from the shores of Grecia, Did not I sit in Oxford by the Frier, And see thee court the mayd of Fresingfield, Sealing thy flattering fancies with a kisse, Did not prowd Bungay draw his portasse foorth, And ioyning hand in hand had married you, If Frier Bacon had not stroke him dumbe, And mounted him vpon a spirits backe, That we might chat at Oxford with the frier, Traitor what answerst, is not all this true? Truth The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Lacie. Truth all my Lord and thus I make replie, At Harlstone faire there courting for your grace, When as mine eye suruaid her curious shape, And drewe the beautious glory of her looks, To diue into the center of my heart. Loue taught me that your honour did but iest, That princes were in fancie but as men, How that the louely maid of Fresingfield, Was fitter to be Lacies wedded wife, Than concubine vnto the prince of Wales. Edward. Iniurious Lacie did I loue thee more Than Alexander his Hephestion, Did I vnfould the passion of my loue, And locke them in the closset of thy thoughts, Wert thou to Edward second to himselfe, Sole freind, and partner of his secreat loues, And could a glaunce of fading bewtie breake, The inchained fetters of such priuat freindes, Base coward, false, and too effeminate, To be coriuall with a prince in thoughts, From Oxford haue I posted since I dinde, To quite a traitor fore that Edward sleepe. Marg. Twas I my Lord, not Lacie stept awry, For oft he sued and courted for yourselfe, And still woode for the courtier all in greene, But I whome fancy made but ouer fond, Pleaded my selfe with looks as if I lovd, I fed myne eye with gazing on his face, And still bewicht lovd Lacie with my looks, My hart with sighes, myne eyes pleaded with tears, My face held pittie and content at once, And more I could not sipher out by signes But that I lovd Lord Lacie with my heart, Then worthy Edward measure with thy minde, If womens fauours will not force men fall, If bewtie and if darts of persing loue, E If The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Is not of force to bury thoughts of friendes. Edward. I tell thee Peggie I will haue thy loues, Edward or none shall conquer Margret, In Frigats bottomd with rich Sethin planks, Topt with the loftie firs of Libanon, Stemd and incast with burnisht Iuorie And ouerlaid with plates of Persian wealth, Like Thetis shalt thou wanton on the waues And draw the Dolphins to thy louely eyes, To daunce lauoltas in the purple streames, Sirens with harpes and siluer psalteries, Shall waight with musicke at thy frigots stem, And entertaine faire Margret with her laies, England and Englands wealth shall wait on thee, Brittaine shall bend vnto her princes loue, And doe due homage to thine excellence, If thou wilt be but Edwards Margret. Margret. Pardon my lord if Ioues great roialtie, Sent me such presents as to Danae, If Phoebus tied in Latonas webs, Come courting from the beautie of his lodge, The dulcet tunes of frolicke Mercurie, Not all the wealth heauens treasurie affords, Should make me leaue lord Lacie or his loue. Edw. I haue learnd at Oxford then this point of schooles, Abbata causa, tollitur effectus, Lacie the cause that Margret cannot loue, Nor fix her liking on the English Prince, Take him away, and then the effects will faile, Villaine prepare thy selfe for I will bathe My poinard in the bosome of an eatle. Lacie. Rather then liue, and misse faire Margrets loue, Prince Edward stop not at the fatall doome, But stabb it home, end both my loues and life. Marg. Braue Prince of Wales, honoured for royall deeds, Twere sinne to staine fair Venus courts with blood, Loues The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Loues conquests ends my Lord in courtesie, Spare Lacie gentle Edward, let me die, For so both you and he doe cease your loues. Edward. Lacie shall die as traitor to his Lord. Lacie. I haue deserued it, Edward act it well. Margret What hopes the Prince to gaine by Lacies death? Edward. To end the loues twixt him and Margeret. Marg. Why, thinks king Henries sonne that Margrets loue, Hangs in the vncertaine ballance of proud time, That death shall make a discord of our thonghts, No, stab the earle, and fore the morning sun Shall vaunt him thrice, ouer the loftie east, Margret will meet her Lacie in the heauens. Lacie. If ought betides to louely Margret, That wrongs or wrings her honour from content, Europes rich wealth nor Englands monarchie, Should not allure Lacie to ouerliue, Then Edward short my life and end her loues. Margret. Rid me, and keepe a friend worth many loues. Lacie. Nay Edward keepe a loue worth many friends. Margret. And if thy mind be such as fame hath blazde, Then princely Edward let vs both abide The fatall resolution of thy rage, Banish thou fancie, and imbrace reuenge, And in one toombe knit both our carkases, Whose hearts were linked in one perfect loue, Edward. Edward Art thou that famous prince of Wales, Who at Damasco beat the Sarasens, And broughtst home triumphe on thy launces point, And shall thy plumes be puld by Venus downe, Is it princely to disseuer louers leagues, To part such friends as glorie in their loues, Leaue Ned, and make a vertue of this fault, And further Peg and Lacie in their loues, So in subduing fancies passion, Conquering thy selfe thou getst the richest spoile, E2 Lacie The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. Lacie rise vp, faire Peggie heeres my hand, The prince of Wales hath conquered all his thoughts And all his loues he yeelds vnto the earle, Lacie enioy the maid of Fresingfield, Make her thy Lincolne countesse at the church, And Ned as he is true Plantagenet, Will giue her to thee franckly for thy wife. Lacie. Humbly I take her of my soueraigne, As if that Edward gaue me Englands right, And richt me with the Albion diadem. Margret. And doth the English Prince mean true, Will he vouchsafe to cease his former loues, And yeeld the title of a countrie maid, Vnto lord Lacie. Edward. I will faire Peggie as I am true lord. Marg. Then lordly sir, whose conquest is as great, In conquering loue as Cæsars victories, Margret as milde and humble in her thoughts, As was Aspatia vnto Cirus selfe, Yeelds thanks, and next lord Lacie, doth inshrine Edward the second secret in her heart. Edw. Gramercie Peggie, now that vowes are past, And that your loues are not be reuolt: Once Lacie friendes againe, come we will post To Oxford, for this day the king is there, And brings for Edward Castile Ellinor. Peggie I must go see and view my wife, I pray God I like her as I loued thee. Beside, lord Lincolne we shall heare dispute, Twixt frier Bacon, and learned Vandermast, Peggie weele leaue you for a week or two. Margret. As it please lord Lacie, but loues foolish looks, Thinke footsteps Miles, and minutes to be houres. Lacie. Ile hasten Peggie to make short returne, But please your houour goe vnto the lodge, We shall haue butter, cheese, and venison. And The honourable historie of Frier Bacon. And yesterday I brought for Margret, A lustie bottle of neat clarret wine, Thus can we feast and entertaine your grace. Edward. Tis cheere lord Lacie for an Emperour, If he respect the person and the place: Come let vs in, for I will all this night, Ride post vntill I come to Bacons cell. Exeunt. Enter Henrie, Emperour, Castile, Ellinor, Van - dermast, Bungay. Emperour. Trust me Plantagenet these Oxford schooles Are richly seated neere the riuer side: The mountaines full of fat and fallow deere, The batling pastures laid with kine and flocks, The towne gorgeous with high built colledges, Vandermast. That lordly are the buildings of the towne, Spatious the romes and full of pleasant walkes: But for the doctors how that they be learned, It may be meanly, for ought I can heere. Bungay. I tell thee Germane, Haspurge holds none such, None red so deepe as Oxenford containes, There are within our accademicke ate, Henrie. Stand to him Bungay, charme this Vandermast, And I will ve thee as a royall king. Vanderma. Wherein dare thou dipute with me.