Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe, Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow, We now present. Those that can pity, here May, if they think it well, let fall a tear; The subject will deserve it. Such as give Their money out of hope they may believe, May here find Truth too. Those that come to see Only a show or two, and so agree
The play may pass, if they be still and willing, I'll undertake, may see away their shilling Richly in two short hours. Only they That come to hear a merry, bawdy play, A noise of targets, or to see a fellow In a long motley coat, guarded with yellow, Will be deceived; for, gentle hearers, know, To rank our chosen truth with such a show As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting
Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring To make that only true we now intend, Will leave us never an understanding friend. Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are known The first and happiest hearers of the town, Be sad, as we would make ye: think ye see
The very persons of our noble story,
As they were living; think you see them great, And followed with the general throng and sweat
Of thousand friends: then, in a moment, see How soon this mightiness meets misery: And if you can be merry then, I'll say A man may weep upon his wedding-day.
An Ante-chamber in the Palace
Enter the Duke of NORFOLK, at one door; at the other, the Duke of BUCKINGHAM, and the Lord ABERGAVENNY
Buck. Good morrow, and well met. How have ye done
Since last we saw in France?
Stayed me a prisoner in my chamber when
Those suns of glory, those two lights of men, Met in the vale of Andren.
I was then present, saw them salute on horseback;
Beheld them, when they 'lighted, how they clung In their embracement as they grew together, Which had they, what four throned ones could have weighed
The view of earthly glory: men might say, Till this time Pomp was single, but now married To one above itself. Each following day Became the next day's master, till the last Made former wonders its. To-day the French All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods, Shone down the English; and to-morrow they Made Britain, India: every man that stood Showed like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were As cherubins, all gilt; the madams too, Not used to toil, did almost sweat to bear The pride upon them, that their very labour Was to them as a painting. Now this masque Was cried incomparable; and the ensuing night Made it a fool and beggar. The two Kings, Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst, As presence did present them, him in eye Still him in praise; and, being present both,
'Twas said, they saw but one, and no discerner Durst wag his tongue in censure.
(For so they phrase them) by their heralds chal
The noble spirits to arms, they did perform
Beyond thought's compass; that former fabulous
Being now seen possible enough, got credit,— That Bevis was believed.
Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect In honour honesty, the tract of everything Would by a good discourser lose some life Which action's self was tongue to. All was royal: To the disposing of it nought rebelled;
Order gave each thing view, the office did Distinctly his full function.
I mean, who set the body and the limbs
Of this great sport together?
One, certes, that promises no element
In such a business.
Nor. All this was ordered by the good discretion
Of the right reverend Cardinal of York.
Buck. The devil speed him! No man's pie is freed
From his ambitious finger. What had he To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder, That such a keech can with his very bulk Take up the o' the beneficial sun, And keep it from the earth.
There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends. For, being not propped by ancestry, whose grace Chalks súccessors their way; nor called upon For high feats done to the Crown; neither allied To eminent assistants; spider-like,
Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note, The force of his own merit makes his way, A gift that Heaven gives for him, which buys A place next to the king.
What Heaven hath given him; let some graver
Pierce into that; but I can see his pride
Peep through each part of him whence has he
If not from hell, the devil is a niggard,
Or has given all before, and he begins
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