man?

Herrald.

Pray, fir, can yee Gentleman and knaue it both in one

and yee can, fir, I pray you, doo it in me.

Indeed, I cannot in thy felfe,

For all is knaue that is in thee.

Raph.

Sing one, two and three, fing after mee,

20

Souldier.

And fo fhall we right well agree.

Sir, take no heed what he doth say,
His foolifh humor you doo fee,

But tell me pray, are, you a Herrald?

I am.

I should haue rather tooke you to haue beene
Appelles' prontife, you were with colours fo prouided.
In auntient times haue Heralds beene esteemd,

And held companions for the greatest Kings.
Augustus Cæsar made a law, fo did Antonius too,
That without Herralds graue aduice Princes fhoulde nothing
doo.

Well, then was then, thefe times are as they be.
We now are faine to wait, who growes to wealth,
And come to beare fome office in a towne.
And we for money help them vnto Armes;
For what cannot the golden tempter doe?
A lamentable thing it is; but tell vs, I intreate,
Where might we finde adored Mars?

From, hence, fir you to Venus Court muft paffe,

Adowne the hill; the way is fteepe, fmooth, fleeke as any glaffe;
Goe by the dore of Dalliance, and if you there him mis
Afke Nicenes, for she best can tell, where hir fair Lady is?
Both day and night the dores are ope,

The strongest clofet dore is but of fethers made;

Rufh boldly in, ftand not to afke and neuer be afraide.

At Venus' Court, fir, doe you fay, that Mars is to be found? Gentleman, we haue told yee truth, although vnto our harts it be a wound,

For fearching, as wee bid you, fir,

No doubt a wondrous hap,

But you shall finde God Mars a fleepe,

On Lady Venus' lap.

This one thing more: you cannot come

The way you thither paffe:

Tis dangerous, the hills too steepe and flipperie all as glaffe.
Take this of me, the fairest way from Venus' Court is beggerie.
There are more waies, but they are worse and threaten more ex-
treamitie.

I, thats for fuch, as thither passe,'
Of pleasure and of will:

Souldier.

Raph.

65

70

75

Souldier.

80 Herrald.

Porter.

5

10

15

20

But thefe for other purpofe goe,

Doubt therefore, fir no, ill.

I thanke you both, that haue vs warned by your fkill.
I and Ile end with a Prophecie for your good will:

You thinke it is a pleasant ieft,

To tell the times of peace and reft;

But hee that liues to ninetie nine,

Into the hundreds fhall decline,

Then fhall they fpeake of a strange time:

For it will be a woondrous thing,
To fee a Carter lodge with a King.
Townes fhall be vnpeopled feene,
And markets made vpon the greene:
This will be as true I tell yee all,
As Coblers vfe the thred and nall.
And fo becaufe that all men are but morter,

I leaue the paltrie Herrald and the Porter.

I pre thee, come away, Gentlemen; with thankes I take my leaue.

Adieu, good fir!

Farewell vnto you both!

* D 2

Exeunt omnes.

Zweiter Auftritt.

Enter Contempt and Venus.

Contempt. Come, Lady Loue, now bore we Mars, thou mine I thine beloude.

Venus.

Ah, my Contempt, it will be fpide too foone,
So fhall our pleafures haue a bitter end.
Prouide fome place, for I am big with childe,
And cleane vndone, if Mars my guilt efpie.

Contempt. Sweet Venus, be affurde, I haue that care;
But you perchaunce will coylie fcorne the place.
Venus. What ift fome Abbieei or a Nunnerie?1)
Contempt. No, they abound with much hypocrifie.
Venus. Is it a Gentleman's or a Farmer's houfe?

Contempt. Too much refort would there bewray your being.
Venus. Some Husbandman's,2) fome Inne, fome cleanly ale-houfe?
Neither of thefe; a Spittle, louely Loue.

Contempt.

Venus.

What, where foule Lazers and loathed Lepors lie?
Their ftinke will chooke thy Venus and hir babe.
Contempt. Why, gentle Venus, I intreat yee, be not ouer nice;

What thinke, ye as the Prouerb goes, that beggers haue no lice?
Procters them felues in euerie Spittle houfe,

Haue things as neate, as men of more account.

1) Original: Munnerie. 2) Original: Husbandmands.

5

10

15

Mars.

Venus.

20

Mars.

Venus.

Mars.

25

Sateros.

Mars.

Raph.

30

Mars.

Enter Mars.

Welcome, God Mars, where hath my loue bin all this while?

Walking about the1) garden, time for to beguile.

Whereas between Nifenes, your maide, & Newfangle, your man,
I heard fuch sport, as for your part, would, you had bin there thau.
Quoth Nicenes to New fangle: Tou art fuch a Jacke,
That thou deuifeft fortie fashions for my Ladies backe.
And thou, quoth he, art fo poffeft with euerie fantike toy,
That following of my Ladie's humor thou dost make hir coy.
For once a day for fafhion fake my Lady must be ficke,
No meat, but mutton, or at moft the pinion of a chicke;
To day hir owne haire best becomes, which yellow is as gold,
A perriwigs better for to morrow, blacker to behold;
To day in pumps and cheuerill gloues, to walke fhe wilbe bold,
To morrow cuffes and countenance for feare of catching cold.
Now is fhee barefaft to be feene, ftraight on hir muffler goes,
Now is fhee hufft vp to the crowne, straight nufled to the nofe.
Thefe feuen yeares, trust me, better sport I heard not to my mind!
The Dialogue done, then downe came I, my Lady Loue to finde.
And thou haft found hir all alone, half fickly by ill hap;
* D 3
Sit for a while, Mars, and lay thy head vpon my lap.

I fee, my folks behinde my backe haue much good talke of mee.
And fo they haue.

They are too Idle: foft, Mars, doe you fee?

1 fee fome fawcie mates preffe in. Nowe, firs, what would you haue?

Be not offended, fir, we feeke God Mars.

Why, and Mars haue you found, fir, whats your will with him?

Are you he I cry you mercie; I promise you, I tooke you for a morris dauncer you are so trim.

What fayes the villaine?

1) Original: th.

Raph.
Souldier.

If thou be Mars, the caufe which makes me doubt, is that I fee thy bodie lapt in foft filke, which was wont to bee clad in hard steele, and thy head so childishlie laid on a woman's lap. Pardon, I humbly befeech thee, the plainnes of thy poore feruant, and vouchfafe to read my poor petition.

He deliuers the petition, Mars takes and reads it, meane
while Venus speakes.

Rough fhaped fouldier, enemie to loue,
Why doft thou thirft fo much for bloody warre,
wherein the strong man by a stronger queld,
Or reacht far off by daftard darter's arme,
Breathes forth his fpirite with a booteles cry,
Leauing behinde his earths anatomie:

By warre the Infant trampled vnder fteeds,
Holds to his mother out his feeble hand,
And fhe is rauifht while hir yongling bleeds.
Yet to abide death's ftroake doth quaking ftand
The twice forft virgin like the wounded lambe,
Deiected at the mercie of the woolfe,
Holds vp hir throat in vaine to bloody men,
That will not kill hir while hir beautie ftayeth,
But ftab her when her teares her faire decayeth:
Away, thou bloody man, vex not my Lord!
By warre true loue is hindred and vndone,
And Ladies laps left emptie of their loues,
whofe heads did beautifie their tender knees.
You need not plaine; your laps full inough.
Faire Venus, be propitious; I will fight
To maintaine true loue and defend the right.
On that condition, fouldier, I am won.
Receaue this fauour; Mars, let it be done!

Sateros, I haue receiued thy fupplication, and forrow
I cannot as I would giue thee immediat comfort. If I fhould
oppofe my felfe against the Gods, they would foone fet fire on
my feat; Sixe double as there are, three at libertie, three imprifo-
ned, and one their keeper: at libertie, — wilines, wrong and wan-
tonnes; in prifon are warre, wreake and woe; their keeper is won-
der; who, once giuing way to libertie for thofe he holds, fhall fet
thee and thy fellowes on worke. In meane time goe thou to the
Duke of Boœtia, commend vs to him, when he can, he will im-
ploy thee, Iam fure; let that be thy answere for this time, and fo,
good Sateros, be contented.

I humbly take my leaue, adored Mars;

Proue a good night, Rauen Venus, I intreat.

Farewell, pore fouldier; weare that for my fake.
Of both your Godheads dutious leaue I take.

And when goe you, fir?

Who I? Good Lord, there hangs a matter by.

why, what are you? get gone, or I will fend thee gone.
I pray you, beare a while, gentle mafter mine,
And you fhall heare my in fpeech I warrant.
Goe too, fir foole; lets heare what you can say.

And fhall, I warrant yee, to your coft, my Lady do-little.

Mars, though thou be a Cocke of the game,

that wontst to croe by day,

And with thy sharpned spurres

the crauen Cockes didst kill and slay;
Sith now thou dost but prune thy wings
and make thy fethers gay,

A dunghill Cocke, that croes by night,
shall slilie thee betray

And tread thy Hen, and for a time
shall carrie her away.

And she by him shall hatch a Chicke,
this Countrey to decay.

And for this pretie Pullets name
thou shalt the better learne:
When thou shalt onelie letters fiue
within one name discerne,
Three vowels and two consonants,
which vowels if thou scan,

Doth sound that which to euerie place

conducteth euerie man,

Then call to minde this Prophecie,

for thats the bastards name;

Then rouse thy selfe, then reach thy sword,
and win thy wonted fame.

Now haue I done the taske for which I came,
And fo farewell, fine Mafter and nice Dame.

Mars rises in a rage, Venus offers to staie him.
A dunghill cocke to tread my hen?
Breake forth, yee hangrie powers,

And fill the world with bloodfhed and with rage!
My Lord, my Loue!

Venus, I am abufde!

Why, will yee trust a foole, when he fhall fpeake,
And take his words to be as Oracles?

But hee hath tucht me neere, and Ile reuenge.
Aye mee!

Reuenge true Louers wrongs immortall powers,
And nere let Lady truft a fouldier!

Erit.