THE Old Wiues Tale

A pleasant conceited Comedie
played by the Queenes Maiesties
players

Written by G. P.

VIGNETTE

Printed at London by Iohn Danter, and are to
be sold by Raph Hancocke, and Iohn
Hardie, 1595.

[The Persons of the Play

• Sacrapant.
• First Brother, named Calypha.
• Second Brother, named Thelea.
• Eumenides.
• Erestus.
• Lampriscus.
• Huanebango.
• Corebus.
• Wiggen.
• Churchwarden.
• Sexton.
• Ghost of Jack.
• Friar, Harvest-men, Furies, Fiddlers, etc.
• Delia, sister to Calypha and Thelea.
• Venelia, betrothed to Erestus.
• Zantippa, } daughters to Lampriscus.
• Celanta, }
• Hostess.
• Antic.
• Frolic.
• Fantastic.
• Clunch, a smith.
• Madge, his wife.]

The Old Wives Tale.

Enter Anticke, Frolicke, and Fantasticke.

Anticke.

H OW nowe fellowe Franticke, what, all a mort? Doth this sadnes become thy madnes? What though wee have lost our way in the woodes, yet never hang the head, as though thou hadst no hope to live till to morrow: for Fantasticke and I will warrant thy life to night for twenty in the hundred.

Frolicke. Anticke and Fantasticke, as I am frollicke franion, never in all my life was I so dead slaine. What? to loose our way in the woode, without either fire or candle so uncomfortable? O caelum! O terra! O maria! O Neptune!

Fantas. Why makes thou it so strange, seeing Cupid hath led our yong master to the faire Lady and she is the only saint that he hath sworne to serve?

Frollicke. What resteth then but wee commit him to his wench, and each of us take his stand up in a tree, and sing out our ill fortune to the tune of O man in desperation.

Ant. Desperately spoken, fellow Frollicke in the darke: but seeing it falles out thus, let us rehearse the old proverb.

Three merrie men, and three merrie men,
And three merrie men be wee.
I in the wood, and thou on the ground.
And Jacke sleepes in the tree.

Fan. Hush! a dogge in the wood, or a wooden dogge. O comfortable hearing! I had even as live the chamberlaine of the White Horse had called me up to bed.

Frol. Eyther hath this trotting cur gone out of his cyrcuit, or els are we nere some village, which should not be farre off, for I

Enter a Smith with a lanthorne & candle.

perceive the glymring of a gloworme, a candle, or a cats eye, my life for a halfe pennie. In the name of my own father, be thou oxe or asse that appearest, tell us what thou art.

Smith. What am I? Why I am Clunch the Smith; what are you, what make you in my territories at this time of the night?

Ant. What doe we make, dost thou aske? Why we make faces for feare: such as if thy mortall eyes could behold, would make thee water the long seames of thy side slops, Smith.

Frol. And in faith, sir, unlesse your hospitalitie doe releeve us, wee are like to wander with a sorrowfull hey ho, among the owlets, & hobgoblins of the forrest: good Vulcan, for Cupids sake that hath cousned us all, befriend us as thou maiest, and commaund us howsoever, wheresoever, whensoever, in whatsoever, for ever and ever.

Smith. Well, masters, it seemes to mee you have lost your waie in the wood: in consideration whereof, if you will goe with Clunch to his cottage, you shall have house roome, and a good fire to sit by, althogh we have no bedding to put you in.

All. O blessed Smith, O bountifull Clunch.

Smith. For your further intertainment, it shall be as it may be, so and so.

Heare a dogge barke.

Hearke! this is Ball my dogge that bids you all welcome in his own language; come, take heed for stumbling on the threshold. Open dore, Madge, take in guests.

Enter old woman.

Cl. Welcome Clunch & good fellowes al that come with my good man; for my good mans sake come on, sit downe; here is a peece of cheese & a pudding of my owne making.

Anticke. Thanks, Gammer; a good example for the wives of our towne.

Frolicke. Gammer, thou and thy good man sit lovingly together; we come to chat and not to eate.

Smith. Well, masters, if you will eate nothing, take away. Come, what doo we to passe away the time? Lay a crab in the fire to rost for lambes-wooll. What, shall wee have a game at trumpe or ruffe to drive away the time, how say you?

Fantasticke. This Smith leads a life as merrie as a king with Madge his wife. Syrrha Frolicke, I am sure thou art not without some round or other; no doubt but Clunch can beare his part.

Frolicke. Els thinke you mee ill brought up; so set to it when you will.

They sing.

Song.

When as the Rie reach to the chin,
And chopcherrie, chopcherrie ripe within,
Strawberries swimming in the creame,
And schoole boyes playing in the streame:
Then O, then O, then O my true love said,
Till that time come againe,
Shee could not live a maid.

Ant. This sport dooes well: but me thinkes, Gammer, a merry winters tale would drive away the time trimly. Come, I am sure you are not without a score.

Fantast. I faith, Gammer, a tale of an howre long were as good as an howres sleepe.

Frol. Looke you, Gammer, of the Gyant and the Kings Daughter, and I know not what. I have seene the day when I was a little one, you might have drawne mee a mile after you with such a discourse.

Old woman. Well, since you be so importunate, my good man shall fill the pot and get him to bed; they that ply their worke must keepe good howres. One of you goe lye with him; he is a cleane skind man, I tell you, without either spavin or windgall; so I am content to drive away the time with an old wives winters tale.

Fantast. No better hay in Devonshire, a my word, Gammer, Ile be one of your audience.

Frolicke. And I another: thats flat.

Anticke. Then must I to bed with the good man. Bona nox Gammer; God night, Frolicke.

Smith. Come on, my lad, thou shalt take thy unnaturall rest with me.

Exeunt Anticke and the Smith.

Frollicke. Yet this vantage shall we have of them in the morning, to bee ready at the sight thereof extempore.

Old wom. Nowe this bargaine, my masters, must I make with you, that you will say hum & ha to my tale, so shall I know you are awake.

Both. Content, Gammer, that will we doo.

Old wom. Once uppon a time there was a King or a Lord, or a Duke, that had a faire daughter, the fairest that ever was; as white as snowe, and as redd as bloud: and once uppon a time his daughter was stollen away, and hee sent all his men to seeke out his daughter, and hee sent so long, that he sent all his men out of his land.

Frol. Who drest his dinner then?

Old woman. Nay, either heare my tale, or kisse my taile.

Fan. Well sed, on with your tale, Gammer.

Old woman. O Lord, I quite forgot, there was a Conjurer, and this Conjurer could doo any thing, and hee turned himselfe into a great Dragon, and carried the Kinges Daughter away in his mouth to a Castle that hee made of stone, and there he kept hir I know not how long, till at last all the Kinges men went out so long, that hir two Brothers went to seeke hir. O, I forget: she (he I would say) turned a proper yong man to a Beare in the night, and a man in the day, and keeps by a crosse that parts three severall waies, & he made his Lady run mad ... Gods me bones, who comes here?

Enter the two Brothers.

Frol. Soft, Gammer, here some come to tell your tale for you.

Fant. Let them alone, let us heare what they will say.

1 Brother. Upon these chalkie cliffs of Albion
We are arived now with tedious toile,
And compassing the wide world round about
To seeke our sister, to seeke faire Delya forth,
Yet cannot we so much as heare of hir.

2 Brother. O fortune cruell, cruell & unkind,
Unkind in that we cannot find our sister;
Our sister haples in hir cruell chance!
Soft, who have we here?

Enter Senex at the Crosse, stooping to gather.

1 Brother. Now, father, God be your speed,
What doo you gather there?

Old man. Hips and hawes, and stickes and straws, and thinges that I gather on the ground, my sonne.

1 Brother. Hips and hawes, and stickes and strawes! Why, is that all your foode, father?

Old man. Yea, sonne.

2 Brother. Father, here is an almes pennie for mee, and if I speede in that I goe for, I will give thee as good a gowne of gray as ever thou diddest weare.

1 Brother. And, father, here is another almes pennie for me, and if I speede in my journey, I will give thee a palmers staffe of yvorie, and a scallop shell of beaten gold.

Old man. Was shee fayre?

2 Brother. I, the fairest for white, and the purest for redd, as the blood of the deare, or the driven snow.

Old m. Then harke well and marke well, my old spell:
Be not afraid of every stranger,
Start not aside at every danger:
Things that seeme are not the same,
Blow a blast at every flame:
For when one flame of fire goes out,
Then comes your wishes well about:
If any aske who told you this good,
Say the White Beare of Englands wood.

1 Brother. Brother, heard you not what the old man said?
Be not afraid of every stranger,
Start not aside for every danger:
Things that seeme are not the same,
Blow a blast at every flame:
If any aske who told you this good,
Say the White Beare of Englands wood.

2 Brother. Well, if this doo us any good,
Wel fare the White Bear of Englands wood.

Ex.

Old man. Now sit thee here & tel a heavy tale.
Sad in thy moode, and sober in thy cheere,
Here sit thee now and to thy selfe relate,
The hard mishap of thy most wretched state.
In Thessalie I liv'd in sweete content,
Untill that Fortune wrought my overthrow;
For there I wedded was unto a dame,
That liv'd in honor, vertue, love, and fame:
But Sacrapant, that cursed sorcerer,
Being besotted with my beauteous love,
My deerest love, my true betrothed wife,
Did seeke the meanes to rid me of my life.
But worse than this, he with his chanting spels,
Did turne me straight unto an ugly Beare;
And when the sunne doth settle in the west,
Then I begin to don my ugly hide:
And all the day I sit, as now you see,
And speake in riddles all inspirde with rage,
Seeming an olde and miserable man:
And yet I am in Aprill of my age.

Enter Venelia his Lady mad; and goes in againe.

See where Venelya, my betrothed love,
Runs madding all inrag'd about the woods,
All by his curssed and inchanting spels.

Enter Lampriscus with a pot of honny.

But here comes Lampriscus, my discontented neighbour. How now, neighbour, you looke towarde the ground as well as I; you muse on something.

Lamp. Neighbour on nothing, but on the matter I so often mooved to you: if you do any thing for charity, helpe me; if for neighborhood or brotherhood, helpe me: never was one so combered as is poore Lampryscus: and to begin, I pray receive this potte of honny to mend your fare.

Old man. Thankes, neighbor, set it downe; Honny is alwaies welcome to the Beare. And now, neighbour, let me heere the cause of your comming.

Lampriscus. I am (as you knowe, neighbour) a man unmaried, and lived so unquietly with my two wives, that I keepe every yeare holy the day wherein I buried them both: the first was on Saint Andrewes day, the other on Saint Lukes.

Old man. And now, neighbour, you of this country say, your custome is out: but on with your tale, neighbour.

Lamp. By my first wife, whose tongue wearied me alive, and sounded in my eares like the clapper of a great bell, whose talke was a continuall torment to all that dwelt by her, or lived nigh her, you have heard me say I had a handsome daughter.

Old man. True, neighbour.

Lampr. Shee it is that afflictes me with her continuall clamoures, and hangs on me like a burre: poore shee is, and proude shee is; as poore as a sheepe new shorne, and as proude of her hopes, as a peacock of her taile well growne.

Old man. Well said, Lampryscus, you speake it like an Englishman.

Lampr. As curst as a waspe, and as frowarde as a childe new taken from the mothers teate; shee is to my age, as smoake to the eyes, or as vinegar to the teeth.

Old man. Holily praised, neighbour, as much for the next.

Lampr. By my other wife I had a daughter, so hard favoured, so foule and ill faced, that I thinke a grove full of golden trees, and the leaves of rubies and dyamonds, would not bee a dowrie annswerable to her deformitie.

Old man. Well, neighbour, nowe you have spoke, heere me speake; send them to the well for the water of life: there shall they finde their fortunes unlooked for. Neighbour, farewell.

Exit.

Lampr. Farewell and a thousand; and now goeth poore Lampryscus to put in execution this excellent counsell.

Exeunt.

Frol. Why this goes rounde without a fidling stick. But doo you heare, Gammer, was this the man that was a beare in the night, and a man in the day?

Old woman. I, this is hee; and this man that came to him was a beggar, and dwelt uppon a greene. But soft, who comes here? O these are the harvest men; ten to one they sing a song of mowing.

Enter the harvest men a singing, with this

Song double repeated.

All yee that lovely lovers be, pray you for me.
Loe here we come a sowing, a sowing,
And sowe sweete fruites of love:
In your sweete hearts well may it proove.

Exeunt.

Enter Huanebango with his two hand sword, and Booby the Clowne.

Fant. Gammer, what is he?

Old woman. O this is one that is going to the Conjurer; let him alone; here what he sayes.

Huan. Now by Mars and Mercury, Jupiter and Janus, Sol and Saturnus, Venus and Vesta, Pallas and Proserpina, and by the honor of my house Polimackeroeplacydus, it is a wonder to see what this love will make silly fellowes adventure, even in the wane of their wits and infansie of their discretion. Alas, my friend, what fortune calles thee foorth to seeke thy fortune among brasen gates, inchanted towers, fire and brimstone, thunder and lightning? Beautie, I tell thee, is peerelesse, and she precious whom thou affectest: do off these desires, good countriman, good friend, runne away from thy selfe, and so soone as thou canst, forget her; whom none must inherit but he that can monsters tame, laboures atchive, riddles absolve, loose inchantments, murther magicke, and kill conjuring: and that is the great and mighty Huanebango.

Booby. Harke you sir, harke you. First know I have here the flurting feather, and have given the parish the start for the long stocke. Nowe sir, if it bee no more but running through a little lightning and thunder, and riddle me, riddle me, what's this, Ile have the wench from the Conjurer if he were ten Conjurers.

Huan. I have abandoned the court and honourable company, to doo my devoyre against this sore sorcerer and mighty magitian: if this Ladie be so faire as she is said to bee, she is mine, she is mine. Meus, mea, meum, in contemptum omnium grammaticorum.

Booby. O falsum Latinum! the faire maide is minum, cum apurtinantibus gibletes and all.

Huan. If shee bee mine, as I assure my selfe the heavens will doo somewhat to reward my worthines, shee shall bee allied to none of the meanest gods, but bee invested in the most famous stocke of Huanebango Polimackeroeplacidus, my grandfather, my father Pergopolyneo, my mother Dyonora de Sardynya, famouslie descended.

Booby. Doo you heare, sir, had not you a cosen, that was called Gustecerydis?

Huan. Indeede I had a cosen, that sometime followed the court infortunately, and his name Bustegustecerydis.

Booby. O Lord I know him well; hee is the knight of the neates feete.

Huan. O he lov'd no capon better. He hath oftentimes deceived his boy of his dinner; that was his fault, good Bustegustecerydis.

Booby. Come, shall we goe along? Soft, here is an olde man at the Crosse; let us aske him the way thither. Ho, you Gaffer, I pray you tell where the wise man the Conjurer dwells.

Huan. Where that earthly Goddesse keepeth hir abode, the commander of my thougts, and faire Mistres of my heart.

Old man. Faire inough, and farre inough from thy fingering, sonne.

Huan. I will followe my fortune after mine owne fancie, and doo according to mine owne discretion.

Old man. Yet give some thing to an old man before you goe.

Huan. Father, mee thinkes a peece of this cake might serve your turne.

Old man. Yea, sonne.

Huan. Huanebango giveth no cakes for almes; aske of them that give giftes for poore beggars. Faire Lady, if thou wert once shrined in this bosome, I would buckler thee hara-tantara.

Exit.

Booby. Father, doo you see this man? You litle thinke heele run a mile or two for such a cake, or passe for a pudding. I tell you, Father, hee has kept such a begging of mee for a peece of this cake! Whoo, he comes uppon me with a superfantiall substance, and the foyson of the earth, that I know not what he meanes. Iff hee came to me thus, and said, 'my friend Booby,' or so, why I could spare him a peece with all my heart; but when he tells me how God hath enriched mee above other fellowes with a cake, why hee makes me blinde and deafe at once. Yet, father, heere is a peece of cake for you, as harde as the world goes.

Old man. Thanks, sonne, but list to mee:
He shall be deafe when thou shalt not see.
Farewell, my sonne; things may so hit,
Thou maist have wealth to mend thy wit.

Booby. Farewell, father, farewell; for I must make hast after my two-hand sword that is gone before.

Exeunt omnes.

Enter Sacrapant in his studie.

Sacrapant. The day is cleare, the welkin bright and gray,
The larke is merrie, and records hir notes;
Each thing rejoyseth underneath the skie,
But onely I whom heaven hath in hate,
Wretched and miserable Sacrapant.
In Thessalie was I borne and brought up.
My mother Meroe hight, a famous witch,
And by hir cunning I of hir did learne,
To change and alter shapes of mortall men.
There did I turne my selfe into a dragon,
And stole away the daughter to the king,
Faire Delya, the mistres of my heart,
And brought hir hither to revive the man
That seemeth yong and pleasant to behold,
And yet is aged, crooked, weake and numbe.
Thus by inchaunting spells I doo deceive
Those that behold and looke upon my face;
But well may I bid youthfull yeares adue.

Enter Delya with a pot in hir hand.

See where she coms from whence my sorrows grow.
How now, faire Delya, where have you bin?

Delya. At the foote of the rocke for running water, and gathering rootes for your dinner, sir.

Sacr. Ah, Delya, fairer art thou than the running water, yet harder farre than steele or adamant.

Delya. Will it please you to sit downe, sir?

Sacr. I, Delya, sit & aske me what thou wilt; thou shalt have it brought into thy lappe.

Delya. Then I pray you, sir, let mee have the best meate from the king of Englands table, and the best wine in all France, brought in by the veriest knave in all Spaine.

Sacr. Delya, I am glad to see you so pleasant.
Well, sit thee downe.
Spred, table, spred; meat, drinke & bred;
Ever may I have what I ever crave,
When I am spred, for meate for my black cock,
And meate for my red.

Enter a Frier with a chine of beefe and a pot of wine.

Sacr. Heere, Delya, will yee fall to?

Del. Is this the best meate in England?

Sacr. Yea.

Del. What is it?

Sacr. A chine of English beefe, meate for a king
And a king's followers.

Del. Is this the best wine in France?

Sacr. Yea.

Del. What wine is it?

Sacr. A cup of neate wine of Orleance,
That never came neer the brewers in England.

Del. Is this the veriest knave in all Spaine?

Sacr. Yea.

Del. What, is he a fryer?

Sacr. Yea, a frier indefinit, & a knave infinit.

Del. Then I pray ye, sir Frier, tell me before you goe, which is the most greediest Englishman?

Fryer. The miserable and most covetous usurer.

Sacr. Holde thee there, Friar.

Exit Friar.

But soft, who have we heere? Delia, away, begon.

Enter the two Brothers.

Delya, away, for beset are we;
But heaven or hell shall rescue her for me.

1. Br. Brother, was not that Delya did appeare?
Or was it but her shadow that was here?

2. Bro. Sister, where art thou? Delya, come again;
He calles, that of thy absence doth complaine.
Call out, Calypha, that she may heare,
And crie aloud, for Delya is neere.

Eccho. Neere.

1. Br. Neere? O where, hast thou any tidings?

Eccho. Tidings.

2. Br. Which way is Delya then,—or that, or this?

Eccho. This.

1. Br. And may we safely come where Delia is?

Eccho. Yes.

2. Bro. Brother, remember you the white
Beare of Englands wood:
Start not aside for every danger;
Be not afeard of every stranger;
Things that seeme, are not the same.

1. Br. Brother, why do we not then coragiously enter?

2. Br. Then, brother, draw thy sword & follow me.

Enter the Conjurer; it lightens & thunders; the 2. Brother falls downe.

1. Br. What, brother, doost thou fall?

Sacr. I, and thou to, Calypha.

Fall 1. Brother. Enter two Furies.

Adeste Dæmones: away with them;
Go cary them straight to Sacrapantos cell,
There in despaire and torture for to dwell.
These are Thenores sonnes of Thessaly,
That come to seeke Delya their sister forth;
But with a potion, I to her have given,
My arts hath made her to forget her selfe.

He remooves a turfe, and shewes a light in a glasse.

See heere the thing which doth prolong my life;
With this inchantment I do any thing.
And till this fade, my skill shall still endure,
And never none shall breake this little glasse,
But she that's neither wife, widow, nor maide.
Then cheere thy selfe; this is thy destinie,
Never to die, but by a dead mans hand.

Exeunt.

Enter Eumenides the wandering knight, and the Old Man at the Crosse.

Eum. Tell me, Time, tell me, just Time,
When shall I Delia see?
When shall I see the loadstar of my life?
When shall my wandring course end with her sight,
Or I but view my hope, my hearts delight!
Father, God speede; if you tell fortunes, I pray, good father, tell me mine.

Old man. Sonne, I do see in thy face,
Thy blessed fortune worke apace;
I do perceive that thou hast wit,
Beg of thy fate to governe it;
For wisdome govern'd by advise
Makes many fortunate and wise.
Bestowe thy almes, give more than all,
Till dead men's bones come at thy call.
Farewell, my sonne, dreame of no rest,
Til thou repent that thou didst best.

Exit Old M.

Eum. This man hath left me in a laborinth:
He biddeth me give more than all,
Till dead mens bones come at thy call:
He biddeth me dreame of no rest,
Till I repent that I do best.

Enter Wiggen, Corobus, Churchwarden and Sexten.

Wiggen. You may be ashamed, you whorson scald Sexton and Churchwarden, if you had any shame in those shamelesse faces of yours, to let a poore man lie so long above ground unburied. A rot on you all, that have no more compassion of a good fellow when he is gone.

Simon. What, would you have us to burie him, and to aunswere it our selves to the parrishe?

Sexton. Parish me no parishes; pay me my fees, and let the rest runne on in the quarters accounts, and put it downe for one of your good deedes a Gods name; for I am not one that curiously stands upon merits.

Corobus. You whoreson, sodden-headed sheepes-face, shall a good fellow do lesse service and more honestie to the parish, & will you not, when he is dead, let him have Christmas buriall?

Wiggen. Peace Corebus, as sure as Jack was Jack, the frollickst frannion amongst you, and I Wiggen his sweete sworne brother, Jack shall have his funerals, or some of them shall lie on Gods deare earth for it, thats once.

Churchwa. Wiggen, I hope thou wilt do no more then thou darst aunswer.

Wig. Sir, sir, dare or dare not, more or lesse, aunswer or not aunswer, do this, or have this.

Sex. Helpe, helpe, helpe! Wiggen sets upon the parish with a pike staffe.

Eumenides awakes and comes to them.

Eum. Hould thy hands, good fellow.

Core. Can you blame him, sir, if he take Jacks part against this shake-rotten parish that will not burie Jack.

Eum. Why, what was that Jack?

Coreb. Who Jack, sir, who our Jack, sir? as good a fellow as ever troade uppon neats leather.

Wiggen. Looke you, sir, he gave foure score and nineteene mourning gownes to the parish when he died, and because he would not make them up a full hundred, they would not bury him; was not this good dealing?

Churchwar. Oh Lord, sir, how he lies; he was not worth a halfe-penny, and drunke out every penny: and nowe his fellowes, his drunken companions, would have us to burie him at the charge of the parish. And we make many such matches, we may pull downe the steeple, sell the belles, and thatche the chauncell. He shall lie above ground till he daunce a galliard about the churchyard for Steeven Loache.

Wiggen. Sic argumentaris, domine Loache;—and we make many such matches, we may pull downe the steeple, sell the belles, and thatche the chauncell: in good time, sir, and hang your selves in the bell ropes when you have done. Domine oponens, præpono tibi hanc questionem, whether you will have the ground broken, or your pates broken first? For one of them shall be done presently, and to begin mine Ile seale it upon your cockescome.

Eum. Hould thy hands, I pray thee, good fellow; be not too hastie.

Coreb. You capons face, we shall have you turnd out of the parish one of these dayes, with never a tatter to your arse; then you are in worse taking then Jack.

Eumen. Faith and he is bad enough. This fellow does but the part of a friend, to seeke to burie his friend; how much will burie him?

Wiggen. Faith, about some fifteene or sixteene shillings will bestow him honestly.

Sexton. I, even there abouts, sir.

Eumen. Heere, hould it then, and I have left me but one poore three halfe pence; now do I remember the wordes the old man spake at the crosse: 'bestowe all thou hast,'—and this is all,—'till dead mens bones comes at thy call.' Heare, holde it, and so farewell.

Wig. God, and all good, bee with you sir; naie, you cormorants, Ile bestowe one peale of Jack at mine owne proper costs and charges.

Coreb. You may thanke God the long staffe and the bilbowe blade crost not your cockescombe. Well, weele to the church stile, and have a pot, and so tryll lyll.

Both. Come, lets go.

Exeunt.

Fant. But harke you, gammer, me thinkes this Jack bore a great sway in the parish.

Old woman. O this Jack was a marvelous fellow; he was but a poore man, but very well beloved: you shall see anon what this Jack will come to.

Enter the harvest men singing, with women in their hands.

Frol. Soft, who have wee heere? our amorous harvest starres.

Fant. I, I, let us sit still and let them alone.

Heere they begin to sing, the song doubled.

Soe heere we come a reaping, a reaping,
To reape our harvest fruite,
And thus we passe the yeare so long,
And never be we mute.

Exit the harvest men.

Enter Huanebango and Corebus the clowne.

Frol. Soft, who have we here?

Old w. O this is a cholerick gentleman; all you that love your lives, keepe out of the smell of his two-hand sworde: nowe goes he to the conjurer.

Fant. Me thinkes the Conjurer should put the foole into a jugling boxe.

Huan. Fee, fa, fum, here is the Englishman,
Conquer him that can, came for his lady bright,
To proove himselfe a knight,
And win her love in fight.

Cor. Who-hawe, maister Bango, are you here? heare you, you had best sit downe heere, and beg an almes with me.

Huan. Hence, base cullion, heere is he that commaundeth ingresse and egresse with his weapon, and will enter at his voluntary, whosover saith no.

A voice and flame of fire: Huanebango falleth downe.

Voice. No.

Old w. So with that, they kist, and spoiled the edge of as good a two hand sword, as ever God put life in; now goes Corebus in, spight of the conjurer.

Enter the Conjurer, & strike Corebus blinde.

Sacr. Away with him into the open fields,
To be a ravening pray to crowes and kites:
And for this villain, let him wander up & downe
In nought but darkenes and eternall night.

Cor. Heer hast thou slain Huan, a slashing knight,
And robbed poore Corebus of his sight.

Exit.

Sacr. Hence, villaine, hence.
Now I have unto Delya given a potion of forgetfulnes,
That when shee comes, shee shall not know hir brothers.
Lo where they labour, like to country slaves,
With spade and mattocke on this inchaunted ground!
Now will I call hir by another name,
For never shall she know hir selfe againe,
Untill that Sacrapant hath breathd his last.
See where she comes.

Enter Delya.

Come hither, Delya, take this gode.
Here, hard at hand, two slaves do worke and dig for gold;
Gore them with this & thou shalt have inough.

He gives hir a gode.

Del. Good sir, I know not what you meane.

Sacra. She hath forgotten to be Delya,
But not forgot the same she should forget:
But I will change hir name.
Faire Berecynthia, so this country calls you,
Goe ply these strangers, wench, they dig for gold.

Exit Sacrapant.

Delya. O heavens! how am I beholding to this faire yong man.
But I must ply these strangers to their worke.
See where they come.

Enter the two Brothers in their shirts, with spades, digging.

1. Brother. O Brother, see where Delya is!

2. Brother. O Delya, happy are we to see thee here.

Delya. What tell you mee of Delya, prating swaines?
I know no Delya nor know I what you meane;
Ply you your work, or else you are like to smart.

1. Brother. Why, Delya, knowst thou not thy brothers here?
We come from Thessalie to seeke thee forth,
And thou deceivest thy selfe, for thou art Delya.

Delya. Yet more of Delya? then take this and smart:
What, faine you shifts for to defer your labor?
Worke, villaines, worke, it is for gold you digg.

2. Br. Peace, brother, peace, this vild inchanter
Hath ravisht Delya of hir sences cleane,
And she forgets that she is Delya.

1. Br. Leave, cruell thou, to hurt the miserable;
Digg, brother, digg, for she is hard as steele.

Here they dig & descry the light under a little hill.

2. Br. Stay, brother, what hast thou descride?

Del. Away & touch it not; it is some thing that my lord hath hidden there.

She covers it agen.

Enter Sacrapant.

Sacr. Well sed, thou plyest these pyoners well. Goe, get you in, you labouring slaves.
Come, Berecynthia, let us in likewise,
And heare the nightingale record hir notes.

Exeunt omnes.

Enter Zantyppa, the curst daughter, to the Well, with a pot in hir hand.

Zant. Now for a husband, house and home; God send a good one or none, I pray God. My father hath sent me to the well for the water of life, and tells mee, if I give faire wordes, I shall have a husband.

Enter the fowle wench to the Well for water, with a pot in hir hand.

But heere comes Celanta, my sweete sister; Ile stand by and heare what she saies.

Celant. My father hath sent mee to the well for water, and he tells me if I speake faire, I shall have a husband, and none of the worst. Well, though I am blacke, I am sure all the world will not forsake mee; and as the olde proverbe is, though I am blacke, I am not the divell.

Zant. Marrie gup with a murren, I knowe wherefore thou speakest that; but goe thy waies home as wise as thou camst, or Ile set thee home with a wanion.

Here she strikes hir pitcher against hir sisters, and breakes them both and goes hir way.

Celant. I thinke this be the curstest queane in the world. You see what she is, a little faire, but as prowd as the divell, and the veriest vixen that lives upon Gods earth. Well, Ile let hir alone, and goe home and get another pitcher, and for all this get me to the well for water.

Exit.

Enter two Furies out of the Conjurers cell and laies Huanebango by the Well of Life.

Enter Zantippa with a pitcher to the Well.

Zant. Once againe for a husband, & in faith, Celanta, I have got the start of you. Belike husbands growe by the Well side. Now my father sayes I must rule my tongue: why, alas, what am I then? A woman without a tongue is as a souldier without his weapon; but Ile have my water and be gon.

Heere she offers to dip her pitcher in, and a head speakes in the Well.

Head. Gently dip, but not too deepe,
For feare you make the golden birde to weepe,
Faire maiden, white and red,
Stroke me smoothe, and combe my head,
And thou shalt have some cockell bread.

Zant. What is this,—Faire maiden white & red,
Combe me smooth, and stroke my head,
And thou shall have some cockell bread.
Cockell callst thou it, boy?—faith, Ile give you cockell bread.

Shee breakes hir pitcher uppon his heade, then it thunders and lightens, and Huanebango rises up: Huanebango is deafe and cannot heare.

Huan. Phylyda phylerydos, Pamphylyda floryda flortos,
Dub dub a dub, bounce quoth the guns, with a sulpherous huffe snuffe.
Wakte with a wench, pretty peat, pretty love and my sweet prettie pigsnie;
Just by thy side shall sit surnamed great Huanebango
Safe in my armes will I keepe thee, threat Mars or thunder Olympus.

Zant. Foe, what greasie groome have wee here? Hee looks as though hee crept out of the backeside of the Well; and speakes like a drum perisht at the west end.

Huan. O that I might, but I may not, woe to my destenie therefore,
Kisse that I claspe,—but I cannot; tell mee my destenie where-fore?

Zant. Whoope nowe I have my dreame, did you never heare so great a wonder as this?
Three blue beanes in a blue bladder, rattle, bladder, rattle.

Huan. Ile nowe set my countenance and to hir in prose; it may be this rim ram ruffe is too rude an incounter.

Let me, faire Ladie, if you be at leisure, revell with your sweetnes, and raile uppon that cowardly Conjurer, that hath cast me or congealed mee rather into an unkinde sleepe and polluted my carcasse.

Zantyppa. Laugh, laugh, Zantyppa, thou hast thy fortune, a foole and a husbande under one.

Huan. Truely, sweete heart, as I seeme, about some twenty yeares, the very Aprill of mine age.

Zantyppa. Why, what a prating asse is this?

Huanebango. Hir corall lippes, hir crimson chinne,
Hir silver teeth so white within:
Hir golden locks, hir rowling eye,
Hir pretty parts, let them goe by:
Hey ho, hath wounded me,
That I must die this day to see.

Za. By gogs bones, thou art a flouting knave.
"Hir corall lippes, hir crimson chinne," ka, "wilshaw."

Huan. True, my owne, and my owne because mine, & mine because mine, ha ha! Above a thousand pounds in possibilitie, and things fitting thy desire in possession.

Zan. The sott thinkes I aske of his landes. Lobb be your comfort, and cuckold bee your destenie. Heare you, sir; and if you will have us, you had best say so betime.

Huan. True, sweete heart, and will royallize thy progeny with my petigree.

Exeunt omnes.

Enter Eumenides the wandring knight.

Eu. Wretched Eumenides, still unfortunate,
Envied by fortune, and forlorne by fate;
Here pine and die, wretched Eumenides.
Die in the spring, the Aprill of my age?
Here sit thee down, repent what thou hast don:
I would to God that it were nere begon.

Enter Jacke.

Jacke. You are well overtaken, sir.

Eum. Who's that?

Jacke. You are heartily well met, sir.

Eum. Forbeare, I say, who is that which pincheth mee?

Jacke. Trusting in God, good Master Eumenides, that you are in so good health as all your friends were at the making hereof, God give you God morrowe, sir, lacke you not a neate, handsome and cleanly yong lad, about the age of fifteene or sixteene yeares, that can runne by your horse, and for a neede make your master-shippes shooes as blacke as incke,—howe say you sir?

Eum. Alasse, pretty lad, I know not how to keepe my selfe, and much lesse a servant, my pretty boy, my state is so bad.

Jacke. Content your selfe, you shall not bee so ill a master but ile bee as bad a servant. Tut, sir, I know you, though you know not me. Are not you the man, sir, denie it if you can, sir, that came from a strange place in the land of Catita, where Jacke-a-napes flies with his taile in his mouth, to seeke out a Ladie as white as snowe, and as redd as blood; ha, ha, have I toucht you now?

Eum. I thinke this boy be a spirit.
How knowst thou all this?

Jacke. Tut, are not you the man, sir, denie it if you can, sir, that gave all the money you had to the burying of a poore man, and but one three-halfe-pence left in your pursse? Content you, sir, Ile serve you, that is flat.

Eum. Well, my lad, since thou art so impornate, I am content to entertaine thee, not as a servant, but a copartner in my journey. But whither shall we goe? for I have not any money more than one bare three halfe-pence.

Jacke. Well, master content your selfe, for if my divination bee not out, that shall bee spent at the next inne or alehouse we come too; for maister, I knowe you are passing hungrie; therefore Ile goe before and provide dinner untill that you come; no doubt but youle come faire and softly after.

Eum. I, go before, Ile follow thee.

Jack. But doo you heare, maister, doo you know my name?

Eum. No, I promise thee, not yet.

Jack. Why, I am Jack.

Exeunt Jack.

Eum. Jack, why be it so, then.

Enter the Hostes and Jack, setting meate on the table, and Fidlers came to playi, Eumenides walketh up and downe, and will eate no meate.

Host. How say you, sir, doo you please to sit downe?

Eum. Hostes, I thanke you, I have no great stomack.

Host. Pray, sir, what is the reason your maister is so strange? Doth not this meate please him?

Jack. Yes, hostes, but it is my maisters fashion to pay before hee eates, therefore a reckoning, good hostesse.

Host. Marry shall you, sir, presently.

Exit.

Eum. Why, Jack, what doost thou meane, thou knowest I have not any money: therefore, sweete Jack, tell me what shall I doo.

Jack. Well, maister, looke in your pursse.

Eum. Why, faith, it is a follie, for I have no money.

Jack. Why, looke you, maister, doo so much for me.

Eum. Alas, Jack, my pursse is full of money.

Jack. 'Alas,' maister,—does that worde belong to this accident? Why, me thinkes I should have seene you cast away your cloake, and in a bravado daunced a galliard round about the chamber; why, maister, your man can teach you more wit than this; come, hostis cheere up my maister.

Hostis. You are heartily welcome: and if it please you to eate of a fat capon, a fairer birde, a finer birde, a sweeter birde, a crisper birde, a neater birde, your worship never eate off.

Eum. Thankes, my fine eloquent hostesse.

Jack. But heare you, maister, one worde by the way; are you content I shall be halfes in all you get in your journey?

Eum. I am, Jack, here is my hand.

Jack. Enough, maister, I aske no more.

Eum. Come, hostesse, receive your money, and I thanke you for my good entertainment.

Host. You are heartily welcome, sir.

Eum. Come, Jack, whether go we now?

Jack. Mary, maister, to the conjurers presently.

Eu. Content, Jack: Hostis, farewell.

Exe. om.

Enter Corebus and Zelanto the foule wench, to the Well for water.

Coreb. Come, my ducke, come. I have now got a wife; thou art faire, art thou not?

Zelan. My Corebus, the fairest alive, make no doubt of that.

Cor. Come, wench, are we almost at the wel?

Zela. I, Corebus, we are almost at the Well now; Ile go fetch some water: sit downe while I dip my pitcher in.

Voyce. Gently dip: but not too deepe;
For feare you make the goulden beard to weepe.

A head comes up with eares of corne, and she combes them in her lap.

Faire maiden, white and red,
Combe me smoothe, and stroke my head,
And thou shall have some cockell bread.
Gently dippe, but not too deepe,
For feare thou make the goulden beard to weep.
Faire maide, white and redde,
Combe me smooth, and stroke my head;
And every haire a sheave shall be,
And every sheave a goulden tree.

A head comes up full of golde, she combes it into her lap.

Zelan. Oh see, Corebus, I have combd a great deale of golde into my lap, and a great deale of corne.

Coreb. Well said, wench; now we shall have just enough. God send us coiners to coine our golde. But come, shall we go home, sweet heart?

Zelan. Nay, come, Corebus, I will lead you.

Coreb. So, Corebus, things have well hit,
Thou hast gotten wealth to mend thy wit.

Exit.

Enter Jack and the wandring knight.

Jack. Come away, maister, come.

Eum. Go along, Jack, Ile follow thee.
Jack, they say it is good to go crosse-legged, and say his prayers backward: how saiest thou?

Jack. Tut, never feare, maister; let me alone, heere sit you still, speake not a word. And because you shall not be intised with his inchanting speeches, with this same wooll Ile stop your eares: and so, maister, sit still, for I must to the Conjurer.

Exit Jack.

Enter the Conjurer to the wandring knight.

Sa. How now, what man art thou that sits so sad?
Why dost thou gaze upon these stately trees,
Without the leave and will of Sacrapant?
What, not a word but mum?
Then, Sacrapant, thou art betraide.

Enter Jack invisible, and taketh off Sacrapants wreath from his head, and his sword out of his hand.

Sac. What hand invades the head of Sacrapant?
What hatefull fury doth envy my happy state?
Then, Sacrapant, these are thy latest dayes.
Alas, my vaines are numd, my sinews shrinke,
My bloud is pearst, my breath fleeting away,
And now my timelesse date is come to end:
He in whose life his actions hath beene so foule,
Now in his death to hell descends his soule.

He dyeth.

Jack. Oh, sir, are you gon? Now I hope we shall have some other coile. Now, maister, how like you this? the Conjurer hee is dead, and vowes never to trouble us more. Now get you to your faire Lady, and see what you can doo with her. Alas, he heareth me not all this while; but I will helpe that.

He pulles the wooll out of his eares.

Eum. How now, Jack, what news?

Jack. Heere, maister, take this sword and dig with it, at the foote of this hill.

He digs and spies a light.

Eum. How now, Jack, what is this?

Jack. Maister, without this the Conjurer could do nothing, and so long as this light lasts, so long doth his arte indure, and this being out, then doth his arte decay.

Eum. Why then, Jack, I will soone put out this light.

Jack. I, maister, how?

Eum. Why with a stone Ile breake the glasse, and then blowe it out.

Jack. No, maister, you may as soone breake the smiths anfill, as this little vyoll; nor the biggest blast that ever Boreas blew, cannot blowe out this little light; but she that is neither maide, wife, nor widowe. Maister, winde this horne; and see what will happen.

He windes the horne.

Heere enters Venelia and breakes the glasse, and blowes out the light, and goeth in againe.

Jack. So, maister, how like you this? This is she that ranne madding in the woods, his betrothed love that keepes the crosse; and nowe, this light being out, all are restored to their former libertie. And now, maister, to the Lady that you have so long looked for.

He draweth a curten, and there Delia sitteth a sleepe.

Eum. God speed, faire maide sitting alone: there is once.
God speed, faire maide; there is twise:
God speed, faire maide, that is thrise.

Delia. Not so, good sir, for you are by.

Jack. Enough, maister, she hath spoke; now I will leave her with you.

Eum. Thou fairest flower of these westerne parts,
Whose beautie so reflecteth in my sight,
As doth a christall mirror in the sonne:
For thy sweet sake I have crost the frosen Rhine,
Leaving faire Po, I saild up Danuby,
As farre as Saba, whose inhansing streames
Cuts twixt the Tartars and the Russians,—
These have I crost for thee, faire Delia:
Then grant me that which I have sude for long.

Del. Thou gentle knight, whose fortune is so good,
To finde me out, and set my brothers free,
My faith, my heart, my hand, I give to thee.

Eum. Thankes, gentle madame: but heere comes Jack; thanke him, for he is the best friend that we have.

Enter Jack with a head in his hand.

Eum. How now, Jack, what hast thou there?

Jack. Mary, maister, the head of the conjurer.

Eum. Why, Jack, that is impossible; he was a young man.

Jack. Ah, maister, so he deceived them that beheld him: but hee was a miserable, old, and crooked man; though to each mans eye h[e see]med young and fresh. For, maister, this Conjurer tooke the shape of the olde man that kept the crosse: and that olde man was in the likenesse of the Conjurer. But nowe, maister, winde your horne. He windes his horne.

Enter Venelia, the two Brothers, and he that was at the Crosse.

Eu. Welcome, Erestus, welcome, faire Venelia,
Welcome, Thelea, and Kalepha both!
Now have I her that I so long have sought,
So saith faire Delia, if we have your consent.

1. Bro. Valiant Eumenides, thou well deservest
To have our favours: so let us rejoyce,
That by thy meanes we are at libertie.
Heere may we joy each in others sight,
And this faire Lady have her wandring knight.

Jack. So, maister, nowe yee thinke you have done: but I must have a saying to you. You know you and I were partners, I to have halfe in all you got.

Eum. Why, so thou shalt, Jack.

Jack. Why, then, maister draw your sworde, part your Lady, let mee have halfe of her presently.

Eumenid. Why, I hope, Jack, thou doost but jest; I promist thee halfe I got, but not halfe my Lady.

Jack. But what else, maister? have you not gotten her? Therefore devide her straight, for I will have halfe; there is no remedie.

Eumen. Well, ere I will falsifie my worde unto my friend, take her all; heere Jack, Ile give her thee.

Jacke. Nay, neither more nor lesse, maister, but even just halfe.

Eum. Before I will falsifie my faith unto my friend, I will divide hir; Jacke, thou shalt have halfe.

1. Brother. Bee not so cruell unto our sister, gentle knight.

2. Brother. O spare faire Delia; shee deserves no death.

Eum. Content your selves; my word is past to him; therefore prepare thy selfe, Delya, for thou must die.

Delya. Then, farewell, worlde; adew Eumenides.

He offers to strike and Jacke staies him.

Jacke. Stay, master; it is sufficient I have tride your constancie. Do you now remember since you paid for the burying of a poore fellow?

Eum. I, very well, Jacke.

Jacke. Then, master, thanke that good deed for this good turne, and so God be with you all.

Jacke leapes downe in the ground.

Eum. Jacke, what, art thou gone?
Then farewell, Jacke.
Come, brothers and my beauteous Delya,
Erestus, and thy deare Venelia:
We will to Thessalie with joyfull hearts.

All. Agreed, we follow thee and Delya.

Exeunt omnes.

Fant. What, Gammer, a sleepe?

Old wom. By the Mas, sonne, tis almost day, and my windowes shut at the cocks crow.

Frol. Doo you heare, Gammer, mee thinkes this Jacke bore a great sway amongst them.

Old wom. O, man, this was the ghost of the poore man, that they kept such a coyle to burie, & that makes him to help the wandring knight so much. But come, let us in: we will have a cup of ale and a tost this morning and so depart.

Fant. Then you have made an end of your tale, Gammer?

Old wom. Yes, faith. When this was done, I tooke a peece of bread and cheese, and came my way, and so shall you have, too, before you goe, to your breakefast.

FINIS.

Printed at London by John Danter, for Raph
Hancocke, and John Hardie, and are to
be solde at the shop over against
Saint Giles his Church without
Criplegate.
1595.