Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE OLD WIVES' [OR WIFE'S] TALE, by GEORGE PEELE



Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE OLD WIVES' [OR WIFE'S] TALE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: How now, fellow frolic! What, all amort?
Last Line: Breakfast.
Subject(s): Country Life


DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

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, &c.

DELIA, sister to CALYPHA and THELEA.
VENELIA, betrothed to ERESTUS.
ZANTIPPA, CELANTA, } daughters to LAMPRISCUS.
Hostess

ANTIC.
FROLIC.
FANTASTIC.
CLUNCH, a smith.
MADGE, his wife.

Enter ANTIC, FROLIC, and FANTASTIC.

Ant. How now, fellow Frolic! what, all amort? doth this sadness become
thy madness? What though we have lost our way in the woods? yet never hang the
head as though thou hadst no hope to live till to-morrow; for Fantastic and I
will warrant thy life to-night for twenty in the hundred.
Fro. Antic, and Fantastic, as I am frolic franion, never in all my life
was I so dead slain. What, to lose our way in the wood, without either fire or
candle, so uncomfortable? O cœlum! O terra! O maria! O Neptune!
Fan. Why makes thou it so strange, seeing Cupid hath led our young
master to the fair lady, and she is the only saint that he hath sworn to serve?
Fro. What resteth, then, but we 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 Frolic, in the dark: but seeing it
falls out thus, let us rehearse the old proverb;
"Three merry men, and three merry men,
And three merry men be we;
I in the wood, and thou on the ground,
And Jack sleeps in the tree."
Fan. Hush! a dog in the wood, or a wooden dog! O comfortable hearing! I
had even as lief the chamberlain of the White Horse had called me up to bed.
Fro. Either hath this trotting cur gone out of his circuit, or else are
we near some village, which should not be far off, for I perceive the glimmering
of a glow-worm, a candle, or a cat's eye, my life for a halfpenny!

Enter CLUNCH with a lantern and candle.

In the name of my own father; be thou ox or ass that appearest, tell us what
thou art.
Clunch. 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 do we make, dost thou ask? why, we make faces for fear; such
as if thy mortal eyes could behold, would make thee water the long seams of thy
side slops, smith.
Fro. And, in faith, sir, unless your hospitality do relieve us, we are
like to wander, with a sorrowful heigh-ho, among the owlets and hobgoblins of
the forest. Good Vulcan, for Cupid's sake that hath cozened us all, befriend us
as thou mayst; and command us howsoever, wheresoever, whensoever, in whatsoever,
for ever and ever.
Clunch. Well, masters, it seems to me you have lost your way in the
wood: in consideration whereof, if you will go with Clunch to his cottage, you
shall have house-room and a good fire to sit by, although we have no bedding to
put you in.
All. O blessed smith, O bountiful Clunch!
Clunch. For your further entertainment, it shall be as it may be, so
and so.
[A dog barks within.
Hark! this is Ball my dog, that bids you all welcome in his own language: come,
take heed for stumbling on the threshold.—Open door, Madge; take in guests.

Enter MADGE.

Madge. Welcome, Clunch, and good fellows all, that come with my good-
man: for my good-man's sake, come on, sit down: here is a piece of cheese, and a
pudding of my own making.
Ant. Thanks, gammer: a good example for the wives of our town.
Fro. Gammer, thou and thy good-man sit lovingly together; we come to
chat, and not to eat.
Clunch. Well, masters, if you will eat nothing, take away. Come, what
do we to pass away the time? Lay a crab in the fire to roast for lamb's-wool.
What, shall we have a game at trump or ruff to drive away the time? how say you?
Fan. This smith leads a life as merry as a king with Madge his wife.
Sirrah Frolic, I am sure thou art not without some round or other: no doubt but
Clunch can bear his part.
Fro. Else think you me ill brought up: so set to it when you will.
[They sing.

SONG.

Whenas the rye reach to the chin,
And chopcherry, chopcherry ripe within,
Strawberries swimming in the cream,
And school-boys playing in the stream;
Then, O, then, O, then, O, my true-love said,
Till that time come again
She could not live a maid.

Ant. This sport does well; but methinks, gammer, a merry winter's tale
would drive away the time trimly: come, I am sure you are not without a score.
Fan. I'faith, gammer, a tale of an hour long were as good as an hour's
sleep.
Fro. Look you, gammer, of the giant and the king's daughter, and I know
not what: I have seen the day, when I was a little one, you might have drawn me
a mile after you with such a discourse.
Madge. Well, since you be so importunate, my good-man shall fill the
pot and get him to bed; they that ply their work must keep good hours: one of
you go lie with him; he is a clean-skinned man I tell you, without either spavin
or wind-gall: so I am content to drive away the time with an old wives' winter's
tale.
Fan. No better hay in Devonshire; o' my word, gammer, I'll be one of
your audience.
Fro. And I another, that's flat.
Ant. Then must I to bed with the good-man.—Bona nox,
gammer.—Good night, Frolic.
Clunch. Come on, my lad, thou shalt take thy unnatural rest with me.
[Exit with ANTIC.
Fro. Yet this vantage shall we have of them in the morning, to be ready
at the sight thereof extempore.
Madge. Now this bargain, my masters, must I make with you, that you
will say hum and ha to my tale, so shall I know you are awake.
Both. Content, gammer, that will we do.
Madge. Once upon a time, there was a king, or a lord, or a duke, that
had a fair daughter, the fairest that ever was; as white as snow and as red as
blood: and once upon a time his daughter was stolen away: and he sent all his
men to seek out his daughter; and he sent so long, that he sent all his men out
of his land.
Fro. Who drest his dinner, then?
Madge. Nay, either hear my tale, or kiss my tail.
Fan. Well said! on with your tale, gammer.
Madge. O Lord, I quite forgot! there was a conjurer, and this conjurer
could do any thing, and he turned himself into a great dragon, and carried the
king's daughter away in his mouth to a castle that he made of stone; and there
he kept her I know not how long, till at last all the king's men went out so
long that her two brothers went to seek her. O, I forget! she (he, I would say,)
turned a proper young man to a bear in the night, and a man in the day, and
keeps by a cross that parts three several ways; and he made his lady run
mad,—Gods me bones, who comes here?

Enter the Two Brothers.

Fro. Soft, gammer, here some come to tell your tale for you.
Fan. Let them alone; let us hear what they will say.
First Bro. Upon these chalky cliffs of Albion
We are arrivèd now with tedious toil;
And compassing the wide world round about,
To seek our sister, to seek fair Delia forth,
Yet cannot we so much as hear of her.
Second Bro. O fortune cruel, cruel and unkind!
Unkind in that we cannot find our sister,
Our sister, hapless in her cruel chance.—
Soft! who have we here?

Enter ERESTUS at the cross, stooping to gather.

First Bro. Now, father, God be your speed! what do you gather there?
Erest. Hips and haws, and sticks and straws, and things that I gather
on the ground, my son.
First Bro. Hips and haws, and sticks and straws! why, is that all your
food, father?
Erest. Yea, son.
Second Bro. Father, here is an alms-penny for me; and if I speed in
that I go for, I will give thee as good a gown of grey as ever thou didst wear.
First Bro. And, father, here is another alms-penny for me; and if I
speed in my journey, I will give thee a palmer's staff of ivory, and a scallop-
shell of beaten gold.
Erest. Was she fair?
Second Bro. Ay, the fairest for white, and the purest for red, as the
blood of the deer, or the driven snow.
Erest. Then hark well, and mark well, my old spell:—
Be not afraid of every stranger;
Start not aside at every danger;
Things that seem are not the same;
Blow a blast at every flame;
For when one flame of fire goes out,
Then come your wishes well about:
If any ask who told you this good,
Say, the white bear of England's wood.
First Bro. Brother, heard you not what the old man said?
Be not afraid of every stranger;
Start not aside for every danger;
Things that seem are not the same;
Blow a blast at every flame;
[For when one flame of fire goes out,
Then come your wishes well about:]
If any ask who told you this good,
Say, the white bear of England's wood.
Second Bro. Well, if this do us any good,
Well fare the white bear of England's wood!
[Exeunt the Two Brothers.
Erest. Now sit thee here, and tell a heavy tale,
Sad in thy mood, and sober in thy cheer;
Here sit thee now, and to thyself relate
The hard mishap of thy most wretched state.
In Thessaly I liv'd in sweet content,
Until that fortune wrought my overthrow;
For there I wedded was unto a dame,
That liv'd in honour, virtue, love, and fame.
But Sacrapant, that cursèd sorcerer,
Being besotted with my beauteous love,
My dearest love, my true betrothèd wife,
Did seek the means to rid me of my life.
But worse than this, he with his 'chanting spells
Did turn me straight unto an ugly bear;
And when the sun doth settle in the west,
Then I begin to don my ugly hide:
And all the day I sit, as now you see,
And speak in riddles, all inspir'd with rage,
Seeming an old and miserable man,
And yet I am in April of my age.

Enter VENELIA mad; and goes in again.

See where Venelia, my betrothèd love,
Runs madding, all enrag'd, about the woods,
All by his cursèd and enchanting spells.—
But here comes Lampriscus, my discontented neighbour.

Enter LAMPRISCUS with a pot of honey.

How now, neighbour! you look toward the ground as well as I: you muse on
something.
Lamp. Neighbour, on nothing but on the matter I so often moved to you:
if you do anything for charity, help me; if for neighbourhood or brotherhood,
help me: never was one so cumbered as is poor Lampriscus; and to begin, I pray
receive this pot of honey, to mend your fare.
Erest. Thanks, neighbour, set it down; honey is always welcome to the
bear. And now, neighbour, let me hear the cause of your coming.
Lamp. I am, as you know, neighbour, a man unmarried, and lived so
unquietly with my two wives, that I keep every year holy the day wherein I
buried them both: the first was on Saint Andrew's day, the other on Saint
Luke's.
Erest. And now, neighbour, you of this country say, your custom is out.
But on with your tale, neighbour.
Lamp. By my first wife, whose tongue wearied me alive, and sounded in
my ears like the clapper of a great bell, whose talk was a continual torment to
all that dwelt by her or lived nigh her, you have heard me say I had a handsome
daughter.
Erest. True, neighbour.
Lamp. She it is that afflicts me with her continual clamours, and hangs
on me like a bur: poor she is, and proud she is; as poor as a sheep new-shorn,
and as proud of her hopes as a peacock of her tail well-grown.
Erest. Well said, Lampriscus! you speak it like an Englishman.
Lamp. As curst as a wasp, and as froward as a child new-taken from the
mother's teat; she is to my age, as smoke to the eyes, or as vinegar to the
teeth.
Erest. Holily praised, neighbour. As much for the next.
Lamp. By my other wife I had a daughter so hard-favoured, so foul, and
ill-faced, that I think a grove full of golden trees, and the leaves of rubies
and diamonds, would not be a dowry answerable to her deformity.
Erest. Well, neighbour, now you have spoke, hear me speak: send them to
the well for the water of life; there shall they find their fortunes unlooked
for. Neighbour, farewell.
Lamp. Farewell, and a thousand. [Exit ERESTUS.] And now goeth poor
Lampriscus to put in execution this excellent counsel.
[Exit.
Fro. Why, this goes round without a fiddling-stick: but, do you hear,
gammer, was this the man that was a bear in the night and a man in the day?
Madge. Ay, this is he; and this man that came to him was a beggar, and
dwelt upon a green. But soft! who come 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 ye that lovely lovers be,
Pray you for me:
Lo, here we come a-sowing, a-sowing,
And sow sweet fruits of love;
In your sweet hearts well may it prove!
[Exeunt.

Enter HUANEBANGO with his two-hand sword, and COREBUS.

Fan. Gammer, what is he?
Madge. O, this is one that is going to the conjurer: let him alone,
hear what he says.
Huan. Now, by Mars and Mercury, Jupiter and Janus, Sol and Saturnus,
Venus and Vesta, Pallas and Proserpina, and by the honour of my house,
Polimackeroeplacidus, it is a wonder to see what this love will make silly
fellows adventure, even in the wane of their wits and infancy of their
discretion. Alas, my friend! what fortune calls thee forth to seek thy fortune
among brazen gates, enchanted towers, fire and brimstone, thunder and lightning?
[Her] beauty, I tell thee, is peerless, and she precious whom thou affectest. Do
off these desires, good countryman: good friend, run away from thyself; and, so
soon as thou canst, forget her, whom none must inherit but he that can monsters
tame, labours achieve, riddles absolve, loose enchantments, murder magic, and
kill conjuring,—and that is the great and mighty Huanebango.
Cor. Hark you, sir, hark you. First know I have here the flurting
feather, and have given the parish, the start for the long stock: now, sir, if
it be no more but running through a little lightning and thunder, and "riddle
me, riddle me what's this?" I'll have the wench from the conjurer, if he were
ten conjurers.
Huan. I have abandoned the court and honourable company, to do my
devoir against this sore sorcerer and mighty magician: if this lady be so fair
as she is said to be, she is mine, she is mine; meus, mea, meum, in contemptum
omnium grammaticorum.
Cor. O falsum Latinum!
The fair maid is minum,
Cum apurtinantibus gibletis and all.
Huan. If she be mine, as I assure myself the heavens will do somewhat
to reward my worthiness, she shall be allied to none of the meanest gods, but be
invested in the most famous stock of Huanebango,—Polimackeroeplacidus my
grandfather, my father Pergopolineo, my mother Dionora de Sardinia, famously
descended.
Cor. Do you hear, sir? had not you a cousin that was called
Gusteceridis?
Huan. Indeed, I had a cousin that sometime followed the court
infortunately, and his name Bustegusteceridis.
Cor. O Lord, I know him well! he is the knight of the neat's-feet.
Huan. O, he loved no capon better! he hath oftentimes deceived his boy
of his dinner; that was his fault, good Bustegusteceridis.
Cor. Come, shall we go along?

Enter ERESTUS at the Cross.

Soft! here is an old man at the cross: let us ask him the way thither.—Ho,
you gaffer! I pray you tell where the wise man the conjurer dwells.
Huan. Where that earthly goddess keepeth her abode, the commander of my
thoughts, and fair mistress of my heart.
Erest. Fair enough, and far enough from thy fingering, son.
Huan. I will follow my fortune after mine own fancy, and do according
to mine own discretion.
Erest. Yet give something to an old man before you go.
Huan. Father, methinks a piece of this cake might serve your turn.
Erest. Yea, son.
Huan. Huanebango giveth no cakes for alms: ask of them that give gifts
for poor beggars.—Fair lady, if thou wert once shrined in this bosom, I
would buckler thee haratantara.
[Exit.
Cor. Father, do you see this man? you little think he'll run a mile or
two for such a cake, or pass for a pudding. I tell you, father, he has kept such
a begging of me for a piece of this cake! Whoo! he comes upon me with "a
superfantial substance, and the foison of the earth," that I know not what he
means. If he came to me thus, and said, "My friend Corebus," or so, why, I could
spare him a piece with all my heart; but when he tells me how God hath enriched
me above other fellows with a cake, why, he makes me blind and deaf at once.
Yet, father, here is a piece of cake for you, as hard as the world goes.
[Gives cake.
Erest. Thanks, son, but list to me;
He shall be deaf when thou shalt not see.
Farewell, my son: things may so hit,
Thou mayst have wealth to mend thy wit.
Cor. Farewell, father, farewell; for I must make haste after my two-
hand sword that is gone before.
[Exeunt severally.

Enter SACRAPANT in his study.

Sac. The day is clear, the welkin bright and grey,


The lark is merry and records her notes;
Each thing rejoiceth underneath the sky,
But only I, whom heaven hath in hate,
Wretched and miserable Sacrapant.
In Thessaly was I born and brought up;
My mother Meroe hight, a famous witch,
And by her cunning I of her did learn
To change and alter shapes of mortal men.
There did I turn myself into a dragon,
And stole away the daughter to the king,
Fair Delia, the mistress of my heart;
And brought her hither to revive the man,
That seemeth young and pleasant to behold,
And yet is agèd, crookèd, weak, and numb.
Thus by enchanting spells I do deceive
Those that behold and look upon my face;
But well may I bid youthful years adieu.
See where she comes from whence my sorrows grow!

Enter DELIA with a pot in her hand.

How now, fair Delia! where have you been?
Del. At the foot of the rock for running water, and gathering roots for
your dinner, sir.
Sac. Ah, Delia,
Fairer art thou than the running water,
Yet harder far than steel or adamant!
Del. Will it please you to sit down, sir?
Sac. Ay, Delia, sit and ask me what thou wilt,
Thou shalt have it brought into thy lap.
Del. Then, I pray you, sir, let me have the best meat from the King of
England's table, and the best wine in all France, brought in by the veriest
knave in all Spain.
Sac. Delia, I am glad to see you so pleasant:
Well, sit thee down.—
Spread, table, spread,
Meat, drink, and bread,
Ever may I have
What I ever crave,
When I am spread,
Meat for my black cock,
And meat for my red.

Enter a Friar with a chine of beef and a pot of wine.

ere, Delia, will ye fall to?
Del. Is this the best meat in England?
Sac. Yea.
Del. What is it?
Sac. A chine of English beef, meat for a king and a king's followers.
Del. Is this the best wine in France?
Sac. Yea.
Del. What wine is it?
Sac. A cup of neat wine of Orleans, that never came near the brewers in
England.
Del. Is this the veriest knave in all Spain?
Sac. Yea.
Del. What, is he a friar?
Sac. Yea, a friar indefinite, and a knave infinite.
Del. Then, I pray ye, Sir Friar, tell me before you go, which is the
most greediest Englishman?
Fri. The miserable and most covetous usurer.
Sac. Hold thee there, friar. [Exit Friar.] But, soft!
Who have we here? Delia, away, be gone!

Enter the Two Brothers.

Delia, away! for beset are we.—
But heaven or hell shall rescue her for me.
[Exeunt DELIA and SACRAPANT.
First Bro. Brother, was not that Delia did appear,
Or was it but her shadow that was here?
Second Bro. Sister, where art thou? Delia, come again!
He calls, that of thy absence doth complain.—
Call out, Calypha, that she may hear,
And cry aloud, for Delia is near.
Echo. Near.
First Bro. Near! O, where? hast thou any tidings?
Echo. Tidings.
Second Bro. Which way is Delia, then? or that, or this?
Echo. This.
First Bro. And may we safely come where Delia is?
Echo. Yes.
Second Bro. Brother, remember you the white bear of England's wood?
"Start not aside for every danger,
Be not afeard of every stranger;
Things that seem are not the same."
First Bro. Brother,
Why do we not, then, courageously enter?
Second Bro. Then, brother, draw thy sword and follow me.

Re-enter SACRAPANT: it lightens and thunders; the Second Brother falls
down.

First Bro. What, brother, dost thou fall?
Sac. Ay, and thou too, Calypha.
[The First Brother falls down.
Adeste, dœmones!

Enter Two Furies.

Away with them:
Go carry them straight to Sacrapanto's cell,
There in despair and torture for to dwell.
[Exeunt Furies with the Two Brothers.
These are Thenores' sons of Thessaly,
That come to seek Delia their sister forth:
But, with a potion I to her have given,
My arts have made her to forget herself.
[Removes a turf, and shows a light in a glass.
See here the thing which doth prolong my life,
With this enchantment I do any thing;
And till this fade, my skill shall still endure,
And never none shall break this little glass,
But she that's neither wife, widow, nor maid:
Then cheer thyself; this is thy destiny,
Never to die but by a dead man's hand.
[Exit.
Enter EUMENIDES.

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 wandering course end with her sight,
Or I but view my hope, my heart's delight?

Enter ERESTUS at the Cross.

Father, God speed! if you tell fortunes, I pray, good father, tell me mine.
Erest. Son, I do see in thy face
Thy blessèd fortune work apace:
I do perceive that thou hast wit;
Beg of thy fate to govern it,
For wisdom govern'd by advice,
Makes many fortunate and wise.
Bestow thy alms, give more than all,
Till dead men's bones come at thy call.
Farewell, my son: dream of no rest,
Till thou repent that thou didst best.
[Exit.
Eum. This man hath left me in a labyrinth:
He biddeth me give more than all,
Till dead men's bones come at my call;
He biddeth me dream of no rest,
Till I repent that I do best.
[Lies down and sleeps.

Enter WIGGEN, COREBUS, Churchwarden, and Sexton.

Wig. You may be ashamed, you whoreson scald Sexton and Churchwarden, if
you had any shame in those shameless faces of yours, to let a poor 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!
Church. What, would you have us to bury him, and to answer it ourselves
to the parish?
Sex. Parish me no parishes; pay me my fees, and let the rest run on in
the quarter's accounts, and put it down for one of your good deeds, o' God's
name! for I am not one that curiously stands upon merits.
Cor. You whoreson, sodden-headed sheep's-face, shall a good fellow do
less service and more honesty to the parish, and will you not, when he is dead,
let him have Christmas burial?
Wig. Peace, Corebus! as sure as Jack was Jack, the frolic'st franion
amongst you, and I, Wiggen, his sweet sworn brother, Jack shall have his
funerals, or some of them shall lie on God's dear earth for it, that's once.
Church. Wiggen, I hope thou wilt do no more than thou darest answer.
Wig. Sir, sir, dare or dare not, more or less, answer or not answer, do
this, or have this.
Sex. Help, help, help!
[WIGGEN sets upon the parish with a pike-staff: EUMENIDES awakes
and comes to them.
Eum. Hold thy hands, good fellow.
Cor. Can you blame him, sir, if he take Jack's part against this shake-
rotten parish that will not bury Jack?
Eum. Why, what was that Jack?
Cor. Who, Jack, sir? who, our Jack, sir? as good a fellow as ever trod
upon neat's-leather.
Wig. Look you, sir; he gave fourscore and nineteen mourning gowns 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?
Church. O Lord, sir, how he lies! he was not worth a halfpenny, and
drunk out every penny; and now his fellows, his drunken companions, would have
us to bury him at the charge of the parish. An we make many such matches, we may
pull down the steeple, sell the bells, and thatch the chancel: he shall lie
above ground till he dance a galliard about the church-yard, for Steeven Loach.
Wig. Sic argumentaris, Domine Loach,—An we make many such matches,
we may pull down the steeple, sell the bells, and thatch the chancel? in good
time, sir, and hang yourselves in the bell-ropes, when you have done. Domine,
opponens prœpono tibi hanc quœstionem, whether will you have the
ground broken or your pates broken first? for one of them shall be done
presently, and to begin mine, I'll seal it upon your coxcomb.
Eum. Hold thy hands, I pray thee, good fellow; be not too hasty.
Cor. You capon's face, we shall have you turned out of the parish one
of these days, with never a tatter to your arse; then you are in worse taking
than Jack.
Eum. Faith, and he is bad enough. This fellow does but the part of a
friend, to seek to bury his friend: how much will bury him?
Wig. Faith, about some fifteen or sixteen shillings will bestow him
honestly.
Sex. Ay, even thereabouts, sir.
Eum. Here, hold it, then:—[aside.] and I have left me but one
poor three half-pence: now do I remember the words the old man spake at the
cross, "Bestow all thou hast," and this is all, "till dead men's bones come at
thy call:"—here, hold it [gives money]; and so farewell.
Wig. God, and all good, be with you, sir!
[Exit EUMENIDES.] Nay, you cormorants, I'll bestow one peal of Jack at mine
own proper costs and charges.
Cor. You may thank God the long staff and the bilbo-blade crossed not
your coxcomb[s].—Well, we'll to the church-stile and have a pot, and so
trill-lill.
[Exit with WIGGEN.
Church. } Come, let's go.
Sex. } Come, let's go.
[Exeunt.
Fan. But, hark you, gammer, methinks this Jack bore a great sway in the
parish.
Madge. O, this Jack was a marvellous fellow! he was but a poor 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.

Fro. Soft! who have we here? our amorous harvesters.
Fan. Ay, ay, let us sit still, and let them alone.

Here the Harvest-men sing, the song doubled.

Lo, here we come a-reaping, a-reaping,
To reap our harvest-fruit!
And thus we pass the year so long,
And never be we mute.
[Exeunt the Harvest-men.

Enter HUANEBANGO.

Fro. Soft! who have we here?
Madge. O, this is a choleric gentleman! All you that love your lives,
keep out of the smell of his two-hand sword: now goes he to the conjurer.
Fan. Methinks the conjurer should put the fool into a juggling-box.
Huan. Fee, fa, fum,
Here is the Englishman,—
Conquer him that can,—
Come for his lady bright,
To prove himself a knight,
And win her love in fight.

Enter COREBUS.

Cor. Who-haw, Master Bango, are you here? hear you, you had best sit
down here, and beg an alms with me.
Huan. Hence, base cullion! here is he that commandeth ingress and
egress with his weapon, and will enter at his voluntary, whosoever saith no.
Voice. No.
[A flame of fire; and HUANEBANGO falls down.
Madge. So with that they kissed, and spoiled the edge of as good a two-
hand sword as ever God put life in. Now goes Corebus in, spite of the conjurer.

Enter SACRAPANT and Two Furies.

Sac. Away with him into the open fields, To be a ravening prey to crows
and kites:
[HUAN. is carried out by the Two Furies.
And for this villain, let him wander up and down,
In naught but darkness and eternal night.
[Strikes COREBUS blind.
Cor. Here hast thou slain Huan, a slashing knight,
And robbèd poor Corebus of his sight.
Sac. Hence, villain, hence!
[Exit COREBUS.
Now I have unto Delia
Given a potion of forgetfulness,
That, when she comes, she shall not know her brothers.
Lo, where they labour, like to country-slaves,
With spade and mattock, on this enchanted ground!
Now will I call her by another name;
For never shall she know herself again,
Until that Sacrapant hath breath'd his last.
See where she comes.

Enter DELIA.

Come hither, Delia, take this goad; here hard
At hand two slaves do work and dig for gold:
Gore them with this, and thou shalt have enough.
[Gives her a goad.
Del. Good sir, I know not what you mean.
Sac. [aside.] She hath forgotten to be Delia,
But not forgot the same she should forget;
But I will change her name.—
Fair Berecynthia, so this country calls you,
Go ply these strangers, wench; they dig for gold.
[Exit.
Del. O heavens, how
Am I beholding to this fair young man!
But I must ply these strangers to their work:
See where they come.

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

First Bro. O brother, see where Delia is!
Second Bro. O Delia,
Happy are we to see thee here!
Del. What tell you me of Delia, prating swains?
I know no Delia, nor know I what you mean.
Ply you your work, or else you're like to smart.
First Bro. Why, Delia, know'st thou not thy brothers here?
We come from Thessaly to seek thee forth;
And thou deceiv'st thyself, for thou art Delia.
Del. Yet more of Delia? then take this, and smart:
[Pricks them with the goad.
What, feign you shifts for to defer your labour?
Work, villains, work; it is for gold you dig.
Second Bro. Peace, brother, peace: this vile enchanter
Hath ravish'd Delia of her senses clean,
And she forgets that she is Delia.
First Bro. Leave, cruel thou, to hurt the miserable.—
Dig, brother, dig, for she is hard as steel.

Here they dig, and descry a light in a glass under a little hill.

Second Bro. Stay, brother; what hast thou descried?
Del. Away, and touch it not; 'tis something that
My lord hath hidden there.
[Covers the light again.

Re-enter SACRAPANT.

Sac. Well said! thou plyest these pioners well.—
Go get you in, you labouring slaves.
[Exeunt the Two Brothers.
Come, Berecynthia, let us in likewise,
And hear the nightingale record her notes.
[Exeunt.

Enter ZANTIPPA, to the Well of Life, with a pot in her hand.

Zan. 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
me, if I give fair words, I shall have a husband. But here comes Celanta my
sweet sister: I'll stand by and hear what she says.
[Retires.

Enter CELANTA, to the Well of Life, with a pot in her hand.

Cel. My father hath sent me to the well for water, and he tells me, if I
speak fair, I shall have a husband, and none of the worst. Well, though I am
black, I am sure all the world will not forsake me; and, as the old proverb is,
though I am black, I am not the devil.
Zan. [coming forward.] Marry-gup with a murren, I know wherefore
thou speakest that: but go thy ways home as wise as thou camest, or I'll set
thee home with a wanion.

Here she strikes her pitcher against her sister's, and breaks them both, and
then exit.

Cel. I think this be the curstest quean in the world: you see what she
is, a little fair, but as proud as the devil, and the veriest vixen that lives
upon God's earth. Well, I'll let her alone, and go home, and get another
pitcher, and, for all this, get me to the well for water.
[Exit.

Enter, out of SACRAPANT'S cell, the Two Furies carrying HUANEBANGO:
they lay him by the Well of Life, and then exeunt. Re-enter ZANTIPPA with
a pitcher to the well.

Zan. Once again for a husband; and, in faith, Celanta, I have got the
start of you; belike husbands grow by the well-side. Now my father says I must
rule my tongue: why, alas, what am I, then? a woman without a tongue is as a
soldier without his weapon: but I'll have my water, and be gone.
Here she offers to dip her pitcher in, and a Head rises in the well.

Head. Gently dip, but not too deep,
For fear you make the golden beard to weep.
Fair maiden, white and red,
Stroke me smooth, and comb my head,
And thou shalt have some cockell-bread.
Zan. What is this?
"Fair maiden, white and red,
Comb me smooth, and stroke my head,
And thou shalt have some cockell-bread"?
"Cockell" callest thou it, boy? faith, I'll give you cockell-bread.

She breaks her pitcher upon the Head: then it thunders and lightens; and
HUANEBANGO, who is deaf and cannot hear, rises up.

Huan. Philida, phileridos, pamphilida, florida, flortos:
Dub dub-a-dub, bounce, quoth the guns, with a sulphurous huff-snuff:
Wak'd with a wench, pretty peat, pretty love, and my sweet pretty pigsnie,
Just by thy side shall sit surnamèd great Huanebango:
Safe in my arms will I keep thee, threat Mars, or thunder Olympus.
Zan. [aside.] Foh, what greasy groom have we here? He looks as
though he crept out of the backside of the well, and speaks like a drum perished
at the west end.
Huan. O, that I might,—but I may not, woe to my destiny
therefore!—
Kiss that I clasp! but I cannot: tell me, my destiny, wherefore?
Zan. [aside.] Whoop! now I have my dream. Did you never hear so
great a wonder as this, three blue beans in a blue bladder, rattle, bladder,
rattle?
Huan. [aside] I'll now set my countenance, and to her in prose; it
may be, this rim-ram-ruff is too rude an encounter.—Let me, fair lady, if
you be at leisure, revel with your sweetness, and rail upon that cowardly
conjurer, that hath cast me, or congealed me rather, into an unkind sleep, and
polluted my carcass.
Zan. [aside.] Laugh, laugh, Zantippa; thou hast thy fortune, a fool
and a husband under one.
Huan. Truly, sweet-heart, as I seem, about some twenty years, the very
April of mine age.
Zan. [aside.] Why, what a prating ass is this!
Huan. Her coral lips, her crimson chin,
Her silver teeth so white within,
Her golden locks, her rolling eye,
Her pretty parts, let them go by,
Heigh-ho, have wounded me,
That I must die this day to see!
Zan. By Gogs-bones, thou art a flouting knave: "her coral lips, her
crimson chin"! ka, wilshaw!
Huan. True, my own, and my own because mine, and mine because mine, ha,
ha! above a thousand pounds in possibility, and things fitting thy desire in
possession.
Zan. [aside.] The sot thinks I ask of his lands. Lob be your
comfort, and cuckold be your destiny!—Hear you, sir; an if you will have
us, you had best say so betime.
Huan. True, sweet-heart, and will royalize thy progeny with my
pedigree.
[Exeunt.
Enter EUMENIDES.

Eum. Wretched Eumenides, still unfortunate,
Envied by fortune and forlorn by fate,
Here pine and die, wretched Eumenides,
Die in the spring, the April of thy age!
Here sit thee down, repent what thou hast done:
I would to God that it were ne'er begun!

Enter the GHOST OF JACK.

G. of Jack. You are well overtaken, sir.
Eum. Who's that?
G. of Jack. You are heartily well met, sir.
Eum. Forbear, I say: who is that which pincheth me?
G. of Jack. 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
good morrow, sir! Lack you not a neat, handsome, and cleanly young lad, about
the age of fifteen or sixteen years, that can run by your horse, and, for a
need, make your mastership's shoes as black as ink? how say you, sir?
Eum. Alas, pretty lad, I know not how to keep myself, and much less a
servant, my pretty boy; my state is so bad.
G. of Jack. Content yourself, you shall not be so ill a master but I'll
be as bad a servant. Tut, sir, I know you, though you know not me: are not you
the man, sir, deny it if you can, sir, that came from a strange place in the
land of Catita, where Jack-an-apes flies with his tail in his mouth, to seek out
a lady as white as snow and as red as blood? ha, ha! have I touched you now?
Eum. [aside.] I think this boy be a spirit.—How knowest thou
all this?
G. of Jack. Tut, are not you the man, sir, deny it if you can, sir,
that gave all the money you had to the burying of a poor man, and but one three
half-pence left in your purse? Content you, sir, I'll serve you, that is flat.
Eum. Well, my lad, since thou art so impor[tu]nate, I am content to
entertain thee, not as a servant, but a copartner in my journey. But whither
shall we go? for I have not any money more than one bare three half-pence.
G. of Jack. Well, master, content yourself, for if my divination be not
out, that shall be spent at the next inn or alehouse we come to; for, master, I
know you are passing hungry: therefore I'll go before and provide dinner until
that you come; no doubt but you'll come fair and softly after.
Eum. Ay, go before; I'll follow thee.
G. of Jack. But do you hear, master? do you know my name?
Eum. No, I promise thee, not yet.
G. of Jack, Why, I am Jack.
[Exit.
Eum. Jack! why, be it so, then.

Enter the Hostess and JACK, setting meat on the table; and Fiddlers
come to play. EUMENIDES walks up and down, and will eat no meat.

Host. How say you, sir? do you please to sit down?
Eum. Hostess, I thank you, I have no great stomach.
Host. Pray, sir, what is the reason your master is so strange? doth not
this meat please him?
G. of Jack. Yes, hostess, but it is my master's fashion to pay before
he eats; therefore, a reckoning, good hostess.
Host. Marry, shall you, sir, presently.
[Exit.
Eum. Why, Jack, what dost thou mean? thou knowest I have not any money;
therefore, sweet Jack, tell me what shall I do?
G. of Jack. Well, master, look in your purse.
Eum. Why, faith, it is a folly, for I have no money.
G. of Jack. Why, look you, master; do so much for me.
Eum. [looking into his purse.] Alas, Jack, my purse is full of
money!
Jack. "Alas," master! does that word belong to this accident? why,
methinks I should have seen you cast away your cloak, and in a bravado dance a
galliard round about the chamber: why, master, your man can teach you more wit
than this.

Re-enter Hostess.

Come, hostess, cheer up my master.
Host. You are heartily welcome; and if it please you to eat of a fat
capon, a fairer bird, a finer bird, a sweeter bird, a crisper bird, a neater
bird, your worship never eat of.
Eum. Thanks, my fine, eloquent hostess.
G. of Jack. But hear you, master, one word by the way: are you content
I shall be halves in all you get in your journey?
Eum. I am, Jack, here is my hand.
G. of Jack. Enough, master, I ask no more.
Eum. Come, hostess, receive your money; and I thank you for my good
entertainment.
[Gives money.
Host. You are heartily welcome, sir.
Eum. Come, Jack, whither go we now?
G. of Jack. Marry, master, to the conjurer's presently.
Eum. Content, Jack.—Hostess, farewell.
[Exeunt.

Enter COREBUS, and CELANIA, to the Well of Life for water.

Cor. Come, my duck, come: I have now got a wife: thou art fair, art thou
not?
Cel. My Corebus, the fairest alive; make no doubt of that.
Cor. Come, wench, are we almost at the well?
Cel. Ay, Corebus, we are almost at the well now. I'll go fetch some
water: sit down while I dip my pitcher in.

A Head comes up with ears of corn, which she combs into her lap.

Head. Gently dip, but not too deep,
For fear you make the golden beard to weep.
Fair maiden, white and red,
Comb me smooth, and stroke my head,
And thou shalt have some cockell-bread.

A Second Head comes up full of gold, which she combs into her lap.

Sec. Head. Gently dip, but not too deep,
For fear thou make the golden beard to weep
Fair maid, white and red,
Comb me smooth, and stroke my head,
And every hair a sheaf shall be,
And every sheaf a golden tree.
Cel. O, see, Corebus, I have combed a great deal of gold into my lap,
and a great deal of corn!
Cor. Well said, wench! now we shall have just enough: God send us
coiners to coin our gold. But come, shall we go home, sweet-heart?
Cel. Nay, come, Corebus, I will lead you.
Cor. So, Corebus, things have well hit;
Thou hast gotten wealth to mend thy wit.
[Exeunt.

Enter the GHOST OF JACK and EUMENIDES.

G. of Jack. Come away, master, come.
Eum. Go along, Jack, I'll follow thee. Jack, they say it is good to go
cross-legged, and say prayers backward; how sayest thou?
G. of Jack. Tut, never fear, master; let me alone. Here sit you still;
speak not a word; and because you shall not be enticed with his enchanting
speeches, with this same wool I'll stop your ears [Puts wool into the ears
of EUMENIDES]: and so, master, sit still, for I must to the conjurer.
[Exit.

Enter SACRAPANT.


Sac. 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 betray'd.

Re-enter the GHOST OF JACK invisible, and takes SACRAPANT'S wreath off
from his head, and his sword out of his hand.

What hand invades the head of Sacrapant?
What hateful Fury doth envy my happy state?
Then, Sacrapant, these are thy latest days.
Alas, my veins are numb'd, my sinews shrink,
My blood is pierc'd, my breath fleeting away,
And now my timeless date is come to end!
He in whose life his acts have been so foul,
Now in his death to hell decends his soul.
[Dies.
G. of Jack. O, sir, are you gone? now I hope we shall have some other
coil.—Now, master, how like you this? the conjurer he is dead, and vows
never to trouble us more: now get you to your fair lady, and see what you can do
with her.—Alas, he heareth me not all this while! but I will help that.
[Pulls the wool out of the ears of EUMENIDES.
Eum. How now, Jack! what news?
G. of Jack. Here, master, take this sword, and dig with it at the foot
of this hill.
[Gives sword.

EUMENIDES digs, and spies a light in a glass.

Eum. How now, Jack! what is this?
G. of Jack. Master, without this the conjurer could do nothing; and so
long as this light lasts, so long doth his art endure, and this being out, then
doth his art decay.
Eum. Why, then, Jack, I will soon put out this light.
G. of Jack. Ay, master, how?
Eum. Why, with a stone I'll break the glass, and then blow it out.
G. of Jack. No, master, you may as soon break the smith's anvil as this
little vial: nor the biggest blast that ever Boreas blew cannot blow out this
little light; but she that is neither maid, wife, nor widow. Master, wind this
horn, and see what will happen.
[Gives horn.

EUMENIDES winds the horn. Enter VENELIA, who breaks the glass, blows out
the light, and then exit.

So, master, how like you this? this is she that ran madding in the woods, his
betrothed love that keeps the cross; and now, this light being out, all are
restored to their former liberty: and now, master, to the lady that you have so
long looked for.

The GHOST OF JACK draws a curtain, and discovers DELIA sitting asleep.

Eum. God speed, fair maid, sitting alone,—there is once; God speed,
fair maid,—there is twice; God speed, fair maid,—that is thrice.
Del. Not so, good sir, for you are by.
G. of Jack. Enough, master, she hath spoke; now I will leave her with
you.
[Exit.
Eum. Thou fairest flower of these western parts,
Whose beauty so reflecteth in my sight
As doth a crystal mirror in the sun;
For thy sweet sake I have cross'd the frozen Rhine;
Leaving fair Po, I sail'd up Danuby,
As far as Saba, whose enhancing streams
Cut twixt the Tartars and the Russians:
These have I cross'd for thee, fair Delia:
Then grant me that which I have su'd for long.
Del. Thou gentle knight, whose fortune is so good
To find me out and set my brothers free,
My faith, my heart, my hand I give to thee.
Eum. Thanks, gentle madam: but here comes
Jack; thank him, for he is the best friend that we have.

Re-enter the GHOST OF JACK, with SACRAPANT'S head in his hand.

How now, Jack! what hast thou there?
G. of Jack. Marry, master, the head of the conjurer.
Eum. Why, Jack, that is impossible; he was a young man.
G. of Jack. Ah, master, so he deceived them that beheld him! but he was
a miserable, old, and crooked man, though to each man's eye he seemed young and
fresh; for, master, this conjurer took the shape of the old man that kept the
cross, and that old man was in the likeness of the conjurer. But now, master,
wind your horn.

EUMENIDES winds his horn. Enter VENELIA, the Two Brothers, and
ERESTUS.

Eum. Welcome, Erestus! welcome, fair Venelia!
Welcome, Thelea and Calypha both!
Now have I her that I so long have sought;
So saith fair Delia, if we have your consent.
First Bro. Valiant Eumenides, thou well deservest
To have our favours; so let us rejoice
That by thy means we are at liberty:
Here may we joy each in other's sight,
And this fair lady have her wandering knight.
G. of Jack. So, master, now ye think you have done; but I must have a
saying to you: you know you and I were partners, I to have half in all you got.
Eum. Why, so thou shalt, Jack.
G. of Jack. Why, then, master, draw your sword, part your lady, let me
have half of her presently.
Eum. Why, I hope, Jack, thou dost but jest: I promised thee half I got,
but not half my lady.
G. of Jack. But what else, master? have you not gotten her? therefore
divide her straight, for I will have half; there is no remedy.
Eum. Well, ere I will falsify my word unto my friend, take her all:
here, Jack, I'll give her thee.
G. of Jack. Nay, neither more nor less, master, but even just half.
Eum. Before I will falsify my faith unto my friend, I will divide her:
Jack, thou shalt have half.
First Bro. Be not so cruel unto our sister, gentle knight.
Second Bro. O, spare fair Delia! she deserves no death.
Eum. Content yourselves; my word is passed to him.—Therefore
prepare thyself, Delia, for thou must die.
Del. Then farewell, world! adieu, Eumenides!

EUMENIDES offers to strike, and the GHOST OF JACK stays him.

G. of Jack. Stay, master; it is sufficient I have tried your constancy.
Do you now remember since you paid for the burying of a poor fellow?
Eum. Ay, very well, Jack.
G. of Jack. Then, master, thank that good deed for this good turn: and
so God be with you all!
[Leaps down in the ground.
Eum. Jack, what, art thou gone? then farewell, Jack!—

Come, brothers, and my beauteous Delia,
Erestus, and thy dear Venelia,
We will to Thessaly with joyful hearts.
All. Agreed: we follow thee and Delia.
[Exeunt all except FROLIC, FANTASTIC, and MADGE.
Fan. What, gammer, asleep?
Madge. By the mass, son, 'tis almost day; and my windows shut at the
cock's-crow.
Fro. Do you hear, gammer? methinks this Jack bore a great sway amongst
them.
Madge. O, man, this was the ghost of the poor man that they kept such a
coil to bury; and that makes him to help the wandering knight so much. But come,
let us in: we will have a cup of ale and a toast this morning, and so depart.
Fan. Then you have made an end of your tale, gammer?
Madge. Yes, faith: when this was done, I took a piece of bread and
cheese, and came my way; and so shall you have, too, before you go, to your
breakfast.





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