Contents

Dramatis Personæ

Adrostus, the KING OF ARAGON AMADINE, the King’s daughter of Aragon ARIENA, Amadine’s maid, SEGASTO, a Nobleman of Aragon RUMBELO, a Nobleman of Aragon COLLEN, a Councillor TREMELIO, a Captain MOUSE, the Clown

KING OF VALENCIA MUCEDORUS, the Prince of Valencia ANSELMO, his friend RODERIGO, Nobleman of Valencia BORACHIUS, Nobleman of Valencia BREMO, a wild man

COMEDY ENVY An OLD WOMAN Noblemen, Councillors, a Messenger, a Boy

THE PROLOGUE

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

[Exit Prologue.]

INDUCTION

Enter Comedy, joyfully, with a Garland of Bays on her head.

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

Enter Envy, his arms naked, besmeared with blood.

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

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

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

[Sound drums within, and cry, ‘Stab! Stab!’]

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

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

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

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

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

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

ENVY. Content, Comedy, I’ll go spread my branch, And scattered blossoms from mine envious tree Shall prove to monsters, spoiling of their joys.

[Exeunt.]

ACT I

SCENE I. Valencia. The Court

Sound. Enter Mucedorus and Anselmo his friend.

MUCEDORUS. Anselmo!

ANSELMO. My lord and friend.

MUCEDORUS. True, my Anselmo, both thy lord and friend—

ANSELMO. Whose dear affections bosom with my heart, And keep their domination in one orb, Whence ne’er disloyalty shall root it forth, But faith plant firmer in your choice respect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ANSELMO. Then like a Florentine or mountebank!

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

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

MUCEDORUS. That, my Anselmo, and none else but that, Mask Mucedorus from the vulgar view. That habit suits my mind; fetch me that weed.

[Exit Anselmo.]

Better than kings have not disdain’d that state, And much inferiour, to obtain their mate.

Enter Anselmo with a Shepherd’s coat, which he gives to Mucedorus.

MUCEDORUS. So! Let our respect command thy secrecy, And let us take at once a brief farewell; Delay to lovers is a second hell.

[Exit Mucedorus.]

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

[Exit.]

SCENE II. A Forest in Aragon

Enter Mouse with a bottle of hay.

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

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

SCENE III. The same

Enter Segasto running, and Amadine after him, being pursued with a bear.

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

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

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

[Segasto runs away.]

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

Enter Mucedorus, like a Shepherd, with a sword drawn, and a Bear’s head in his hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MUCEDORUS. With all my heart.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE IV. Outskirts of the Forest

Enter Segasto solus.

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

Unworthy I to bear this vital breath! But what, what needs these plaints? If Amadine do live, then happy I: She will in time forgive and so forget. Amadine is merciful, not Juno-like, In harmful heart to harbour hatred long.

Enter Mouse the Clown, running, crying, Clubs!

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

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

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

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

MOUSE. No, faith, I never saw any such; but I remember my father’s words, he bade me take heed I was not caught with a white bear.

SEGASTO. A lamentable tale, no doubt.

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

SEGASTO. What, from nothing?

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

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

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

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

MOUSE. Why, do you not know me?

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

MOUSE. Why, then you know nobody, an you know not me. I tell you, sir, I am goodman Rat’s son, of the next parish over the hill.

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

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

SEGASTO. I think so; but what’s thy name?

MOUSE. My name? I have a very pretty name; I’ll tell you what my name is, my name is Mouse.

SEGASTO. What, plain Mouse?

MOUSE. Ay, plain Mouse without either welt or guard. But do you hear, sir, I am but a very young Mouse, for my tail is scarce grown out yet; look you here else.

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

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

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

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

SEGASTO. No occupation, I live upon my lands.

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

SEGASTO. Why, I do not mean thou shalt.

MOUSE. How then?

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

MOUSE. What’s that?

SEGASTO. Where the king lies.

MOUSE. What’s that same king, a man or woman?

SEGASTO. A man as thou art.

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

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

MOUSE. King of the land? I never saw him.

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

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

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

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

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

[Exeunt.]

ACT II

SCENE I. The Camp of the King of Aragon

Enter the King with a young Prince prisoner, Amadine, Tremelio, with Collen and Councillors.

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

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

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

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

[Exeunt Tremelio and Prince.]

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

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

[Exeunt.]

SCENE II. The same

Enter Segasto and the Clown, with weapons about him.

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

MOUSE. O, very well, very well, they keep my sides warm.

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

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

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

MOUSE. Ay, very well, it hath a door.

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

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

SEGASTO. Why, so hath every one.

MOUSE. That’s more than I know.

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

MOUSE. O, very well.

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

MOUSE. I will, master; master, what’s his name?