0.002Fair Em

What means fair Britainʼs mighty conqueror

1.25So suddenly to cast away his staff

1.36And, all in passion, to forsake the tilt?

My lord, this triumph we solemnise here

1.58Is of mere love to your increasing joys,

1.69Only expecting cheerful looks for all.

1.710What sudden pangs then moves your majesty

1.811To dim the brightness of the day with frowns?

Ah, good my lords, misconster not the cause.

1.1013At least suspect not my displeasèd brows;

1.1114I amorously do bear to your intent.

1.1215For thanks and all that you can wish I yield,

1.1316But that which makes me blush and shame to tell

1.1417Is cause why thus I turn my conquering eyes

1.1518To cowardsʼ looks and beaten fantasies.

Since we are guiltless, we the less dismay

1.1720To see this sudden change possess your cheer.

1.1821For if it issue from your own conceits,

1.1922Bred by suggestion of some envious thoughts,

1.2023Your highnessʼ wisdom may suppress it straight.

1.2124Yet tell us, good my lord, what thought it is

1.2225That thus bereaves you of your late content,

1.2326That in advice we may assist your grace

1.2427Or bend our forces to revive your spirits.

Ah, Marquis Lübeck, in thy power it lies

1.2629To rid my bosom of these thrallèd dumps.

1.2730And therefore, good my lords, forbear a while

1.2831That we may parley of these private cares,

1.2932Whose strength subdues me more than all the world.

We go, and wish thee private conference,

1.3134Public affects, in this accustomed peace.

Now, Marquis, must a conqueror-at-arms

1.3337Disclose himself thralled to unarmèd thoughts

1.3438And, threatened of a shadow, yield to lust.

1.3539[Indicating Lübeckʼs shield] No sooner had my sparkling eyes beheld

1.3640The flames of beauty blazing on this piece,

1.3741But suddenly a sense of miracle

1.3842Imagined on thy lovely mistressʼ face

1.3943Made me abandon bodily regard

1.4044And cast all pleasures on my wounded soul.

1.4145Then, gentle Marquis, tell me what she is

1.4246That thus thou honourʼst on thy warlike shield,

1.4347And if thy love and interest be such

1.4448As justly may give place to mine.

1.4549That, if it be, my soul with honourʼs wings

1.4650May fly into the bosom of my dear;

1.4751If not, close them and stoop into my grave.

If this be all, renownèd conqueror,

1.4953Advance your drooping spirits and revive

1.5054The wonted courage of your conquering mind,

1.5155For this fair picture painted on my shield

1.5256Is the true counterfeit of lovely Blanche,

1.5357Princess and daughter to the King of Danes,

1.5458Whose beauty and excess of ornaments

1.5559Deserves another manner of defence,

1.5660Pomp, and high person to attend her state

1.5761Than Marquis Lübeck any way presents.

1.5862Therefore, her virtues I resign to thee,

1.5963Already shrined in thy religious breast

1.6064To be advanced and honoured to the full.

1.6165Nor bear I this an argument of love,

1.6266But to renown fair Blanche, my sovereignʼs child,

1.6367In every place where I by arms may do it.

Ah, Marquis, thy words bring heaven unto my soul

1.6569And had I heaven to give for thy reward,

1.6670Thou shouldst be throned in no unworthy place.

1.6771But let my uttermost wealth suffice thy worth,

1.6872Which here I vow, and to aspire the bliss

1.6973That hangs on quick achievement of my love,

1.7074Thyself and I will travel in disguise

1.7175To bring this lady to our Britain court.

Let William but bethink what may avail,

1.7377And let me die if I deny my aid.

Then thus: the Duke Dirot and thʼEarl Demarch

1.7579Will I leave substitutes to rule my realm

1.7680While mighty love forbids my being here,

1.7781And in the name of Sir Robert of Windsor

1.7882Will go with thee unto the Danish court.

1.7983Keep Williamʼs secrets, Marquis, if thou love him.

1.8084Bright Blanche, I come. Sweet Fortune favour me,

1.8185And I will laud thy name eternally.

Come, daughter, we must learn to shake off pomp,

2.289To leave the state that erst beseemed a knight

2.390And gentleman of no mean descent,

2.491To undertake this homely millerʼs trade.

2.592Thus must we mask to save our wretched lives,

2.693Threatened by conquest of this hapless isle,

2.794Whose sad invasions by the Conqueror

2.895Have made a number such as we subject

2.996Their gentle necks unto their stubborn yoke

2.1097Of drudging labour and base peasantry.

2.1198Sir Thomas Goddard now Old Goddard is,

2.1299Goddard the miller of fair Manchester.

2.13100Why should not I content me with this state,

2.14101As good Sir Edmund Trafford did the flail?

2.15102And thou, sweet Em, must stoop to high estate

2.16103To join with mine, that thus we may protect

2.17104Our harmless lives, which led in greater port

2.18105Would be an envious object to our foes

2.19106That seek to root all Britainʼs gentry

2.20107From bearing countenance against their tyranny.

Good father, let my full resolvèd thoughts

2.22109With settled patience to support this chance

2.23110Be some poor comfort to your agèd soul.

2.24111For therein rests the height of my estate,

2.25112That you are pleased with this dejection

2.26113And that all toils my hands may undertake

2.27114May serve to work your worthinessʼ content.

115Thanks, my dear daughter. These thy pleasant words

2.29116Transfer my soul into a second heaven

2.30117And in thy settled mind my joys consist,

2.31118My state revived, and I in former plight.

2.32119Although our outward pomp be thus abased

2.33120And thralled to drudging, stay-less of the world,

2.34121Let us retain those honorable minds

2.35122That lately governed our superior state,

2.36123Wherein true gentry is the only mean

2.37124That makes us differ from base millers born.

2.38125Though we expect no knightly delicates

2.39126Nor thirst in soul for former sovereignty,

2.40127Yet may our minds as highly scorn to stoop

2.41128To base desires of vulgarsʼ worldliness,

2.42129As if we were in our precèdent way.

2.43130And, lovely daughter, since thy youthful years

2.44131Must needs admit as young affectiòns,

2.45132And that sweet love unpartially receives

2.46133Her dainty subjects through every part,

2.47134In chief receive these lessons from my lips

2.48135(The true discoverers of a virginʼs due

2.49136Now requisite). Now that I know thy mind

2.50137Something inclined to favour Manvilleʼs suit

2.51138(A gentleman, thy lover in protest),

2.52139And that thou mayst not be by love deceived,

2.53140But try his meaning fit for thy desert:

2.54141In pursuit of all amorous desires,

2.55142Regard thine honour. Let not vehement sighs

2.56143Nor earnest vows importing fervent love

2.57144Render thee subject to the wrath of lust.

2.58145For that, transformed to former sweet delight,

2.59146Will bring thy body and thy soul to shame.

2.60147Chaste thoughts and modest conversations

2.61148Of proof to keep out all enchanting vows,

2.62149Vain sighs, forced tears, and pitiful aspects

2.63150Are they that make deformèd ladies fair,

2.64151Poor rich. And such enticing men,

2.65152That seek of all but only present grace,

2.66153Shall in perseverance of a virginʼs due

2.67154Prefer the most refusers to the choice

2.68155Of such a soul as yielded what they sought.

2.69156But ho! Where is Trotter?

Whereʼs Trotter? Why, Trotter is here. 160Iʼfaith, you and your daughter go up and down weeping 161and waymenting, and keeping of a waymentation, 162as who should say, ‘The mill would go with your waymentingʼ.

How now, Trotter? Why complainʼst thou so?

Why, yonder is a company of young men and maids 165keep such a stir for their grist, that they would have it before 166my stones be ready to grind it. But iʼfaith, I would I could 167break wind enough backward! [Calling within] You should not tarry for your 168grist, I warrant you.

Content thee, Trotter. I will go pacify them.

170Iwis you will, when I cannot. Why look, 171you have a mill. Why, whatʼs your mill without me?

2.73.2172Or rather, mistress, what were I without you?

Nay, Trotter, if you fall a-chiding, I will give you over.

I chide you, dame, to amend you. 175You are too fine to be a millerʼs daughter, 176for if you should but stoop to take up the tole-dish 177you will have the cramp in your finger 178at least ten weeks after.

Ah, well said, Trotter. Teach her to play the good huswife, 180and thou shalt have her to thy wife, if thou canst get her good will.

Ah, words wherein I see matrimony come loaden 182with kisses to salute me. Now let me alone to pick the mill, 183to fill the hopper, to take the toll, to mend the sails, 184yea, and to make the mill to go with the very force of my love.

2.77.2186[Calling within] I come, I come! Iʼfaith, now you shall have your grist, 187or else Trotter will trot and amble himself to death.

Lord Marquis Lübeck, welcome home.

3.2193[To William] Welcome, brave knight, unto the Denmark king.

3.3194For Williamʼs sake, the noble Norman duke,

3.4195So famous for his fortunes and success

3.5196That graceth him with name of ‘Conquerorʼ,

3.6197Right double welcome must thou be to us.

And to my lord the king shall I recount

3.8199Your graceʼs courteous entertainment

3.9200That for his sake vouchsafe to honour me,

3.10201A simple knight attendant on his grace.

But say, Sir Knight, what may I call your name?

Robert Windsor, and like your majesty.

I tell thee, Robert, I so admire the man

3.14205As that I count it heinous guilt in him

3.15206That honours not Duke William with his heart.

3.16207Blanche, bid this stranger welcome, good my girl.

Sir,

3.18Should I neglect your highnessʼ charge herein

3.19209It might be thought of base discourtesy.

3.20210Welcome, Sir Knight, to Denmark heartily.

Thanks, gentle lady. [Aside to Lübeck] Lord Marquis, what is she?

That same is Blanche, daughter to the king,

3.23213The substance of the shadow that you saw.

[Aside] May this be she for whom I crossed the seas?

3.25215I am ashamed to think I was so fond

3.26216In whom thereʼs nothing that contends my mind:

3.27217Ill head, worse featured, uncomely, nothing courtly,

3.28218Swart and ill-favoured, a collierʼs sanguine skin.

3.29219I never saw a harder-favoured slut.

3.30220Love her? For what? I can no whit abide her.

Mariana, I have this day received letters

3.32222From Swethia that lets me understand

3.33223Your ransom is collecting there with speed,

3.34224And shortly shall be hither sent to us.

225Not that I find occasion of mislike

3.36226My entertainment in your graceʼs court,

3.37227But that I long to see my native home.

And reason have you, madam, for the same.

3.39229Lord Marquis, I commit unto your charge

3.40230The entertainment of Sir Robert here.

3.41231Let him remain with you within the court,

3.42232To spend the time in solace and disport.

I thank your highness, whose bounden I remain.

Unhappy Blanche, what strange effects are these

3.45237That works within my thoughts confusedly,

3.46238That still methinks affection draws me on

3.47239To take, to like, nay more, to love this knight?

240[Aside] A modest countenance, no heavy, sullen look.

3.49241Not very fair, but richly decked with favour.

3.50242A sweet face, an exceeding dainty hand.

3.51243A body, were it framed of wax

3.52244By all the cunning artists of the world,

3.53245It could not better be proportionèd.

How now, Sir Robert? In a study, man?

3.55247Here is no time for contemplation.

My lord, there is a certain odd conceit

3.57249Which on the sudden greatly troubles me.

250How like you Blanche? I partly do perceive

3.59251The little boy hath played the wag with you.

The more I look, the more I love to look.

3.61253Who says that Mariana is not fair?

3.62254Iʼll gauge my gauntlet ʼgainst the envious man

3.63255That dares avow there liveth her compare.

Sir Robert, you mistake your counterfeit.

3.65257[Indicating Blanche] This is the lady which you came to see.

Yea, my lord, she is counterfeit indeed,

3.67[Indicating Mariana] 259For there is the substance that best contents me.

260That is my love. Sir Robert, you do wrong me.

The better for you, sir, she is your love.

3.70262As for the wrong, I see not how it grows.

In seeking that which is anotherʼs right.

As who should say your love were privileged,

3.73265That none might look upon her but yourself?

These jars become not our familiarity,

3.75267Nor will I stand on terms to move your patience.

Why, my lord, am not I of flesh and blood

3.77As well as you?

3.78269Then give me leave to love as well as you.

270To love, Sir Robert? But whom? Not she I love?

3.80271Nor stands it with the honour of my state

3.81272To brook corrivals with me in my love.

So, sir, we are thorough for that lady.

3.83274Ladies, farewell. Lord Marquis, will you go?

3.84275[Aside] I will find a time to speak with her, I trow.

With all my heart. Come ladies, will you walk?

Ah, Em, the subject of my restless thoughts,

4.2279The anvil whereupon my heart doth beat,

4.3280Framing thy ʼstate to thy desert.

4.4281Full ill this life becomes thy heavenly look,

4.5282Wherein sweet love and virtue sits enthroned.

4.6283Bad world, where riches is esteemed above them both,

4.7284In whose base eyes nought else is bountiful.

4.8285‘A millerʼs daughterʼ, says the multitude,

4.9286‘Should not be loved of a gentlemanʼ.

4.10287But let them breathe their souls into the air!

4.11288Yet will I still affect thee as myself,

4.12289So thou be constant in thy plighted vow.

4.13290But here comes one. I will listen to his talk.

Go, William Conqueror, and seek thy love,

4.15293Seek thou a minion in a foreign land,

4.16294Whilst I draw back and court my love at home.

4.17295The millerʼs daughter of fair Manchester

4.18296Hath bound my feet to this delightsome soil,

4.19297And from her eyes do dart such golden beams

4.20298That holds my heart in her subjection.

[Aside] He ruminates on my belovèd choice.

4.22300God grant he come not to prevent my hope!

4.23301But hereʼs another. Him Iʼll listen to.

Nature unjust, in utterance of thy art,

4.25304To grace a peasant with a prince's fame!

4.26305(Peasant am I, so to misterm my love.)

4.27306Although a millerʼs daughter by her birth,

4.28307Yet may her beauty and her virtues well suffice

4.29308To hide the blemish of her birth in hell,

4.30309Where neither envious eyes nor thought can pierce

4.31310But endless darkness ever smother it.

4.32311Go, William Conqueror, and seek thy love,

4.33312Whilst I draw back and court mine own the while,

4.34313Decking her body with such costly robes

4.35314As may become her beautyʼs worthiness,

4.36315That so thy labours may be laughed to scorn

4.37316And she thou seekʼst in foreign regions

4.38317Be darkened and eclipsed when she arrives

4.39318By one that I have chosen nearer home.

[Aside] What, comes he too to intercept my love?

4.41320Then hie thee, Manville, to forestall such foes.

What now, Lord Valingford, are you behind?

4.43322The king had chosen you to go with him.

So chose he you. Therefore I marvel much

4.45324That both of us should linger in this sort.

4.46325What may the king imagine of our stay?

The king may justly think we are to blame,

4.48327But I imagined I might well be spared

4.49328And that no other man had borne my mind.

The like did I. In friendship then resolve,

4.51330What is the cause of your unlooked-for stay?

Lord Valingford, I tell thee as a friend,

4.53332Love is the cause why I have stayed behind.

Love, my lord? Of whom?

Em, the millerʼs daughter of Manchester.

335But may this be?

Why not, my lord? I hope full well you know

4.58337That love respects no difference of state,

4.59338So beauty serve to stir affection.

But this it is that makes me wonder most,

4.61340That you and I should be of one conceit

4.62341In such a strange unlikely passion.

But is that true? My lord, I hope you do but jest.

I would I did. Then were my grief the less.

Nay, never grieve. For if the cause be such

4.66345To join our thoughts in such a sympathy,

4.67346All envy set aside. Let us agree

4.68347To yield to eitherʼs fortune in this choice.

Content, say I, and what so eʼer befall

4.70349Shake hands, my lord, and fortune thrive at all.

Trotter, where have you been?

Where have I been? [Holding up the kerchief] Why, what signifies this?

A kerchief, doth it not?

355[Holding up the urinal] What call you this, I pray?

I say it is a urinal.

Then this is mystically to give you to understand 358I have been at the physmicaryʼs house.

How long hast thou been sick?

360Iʼfaith, even as long as I have not been half well, 361and that hath been a long time.

A loitering time, I rather imagine.

It may be so, but the physmicary tells me that you can help me.

Why, anything I can do for recovery of thy health 365be right well assured of.

Then give me your hand.

To what end?

That the ending of an old indenture 369is the beginning of a new bargain.

370What bargain?

That you promised to do anything to recover my health.

On that condition I give thee my hand.

Ah, sweet Em.

How now, Trotter? Your masterʼs daughter?

375Iʼfaith, I aim at the fairest.

5.21376Ah Em, sweet Em,

5.22‘Fresh as the flower

5.23377That hath power

5.24To wound my heart,

5.25378And ease my smart;

5.26Of me, poor thief,

5.27379In prison boundʼ —

380‘So all your rhyme

5.29Lies on the groundʼ.

5.30381But what means this?

Ah, mark the device:

5.32383‘For thee, my love,

Full sick I was,

5.33In hazard of my life;

5.34384Thy promise was

5.35To make me whole,

5.36And for to be my wife.

5.37385Let me enjoy my love, my dear,

5.38386And thou possess thy Trotter hereʼ.

But I meant no such matter!

Yes, woos, but you did. Iʼll go to our parson, Sir John, 389and he shall mumble up the marriage out of hand.

390But here comes one that will forbid the banns.

Ah, sir, you come too late.

What remedy, Trotter?

Go, Trotter, my father calls.

395Would you have me go in, and leave you two here?

Why, darʼst thou not trust me?

Yes, ʼfaith, even as long as I see you.

Go thy ways, I pray thee heartily.

[Aside] That same word ‘heartilyʼ is of great force. — 400I will go, but I pray, sir, beware you 401come not too near the wench.

I am greatly beholding to you. — 403Ah

5.51‘Mistressʼ, sometime I might have said, ‘my loveʼ,

5.52404But time and fortune hath bʼreaved me of that.

5.53405And I, an abject in those gracious eyes

5.54406That with remorse erst saw into my grief,

5.55407May sit and sigh the sorrows of my heart.

Indeed, my Manville hath some cause to doubt

5.57409When such a swain is rival in his love.

410Ah Em, were he the man that causeth this mistrust,

5.59411I should esteem of thee as at the first.

But is my love in earnest all this while?

Believe me, Em, it is not time to jest

5.62414When others ʼjoys what lately I possessed.

415If touching love my Manville charge me thus,

5.64416Unkindly must I take it at his hands,

5.65417For that my conscience clears me of offence.

Ah, impudent and shameless in thy ill,

5.67419That with thy cunning and defraudful tongue

5.68420Seekʼst to delude the honest-meaning mind!

5.69421Was never heard in Manchester before

5.70422Of truer love than hath been betwixt us twain?

5.71423And for my part, how I have hazarded

5.72424Displeasure of my father and my friends

5.73425Thyself can witness. Yet, not withstanding this,

5.74426Two gentlemen attending on Duke William,

5.75427Mountney and Valingford, as I heard them named,

5.76428Oft times resort to see and to be seen

5.77429Walking the streets fast by thy fatherʼs door,

5.78430Whose glancing eyes up to the windows cast

5.79431Gives testes of their mastersʼ amorous heart.

5.80432This, Em, is noted and too much talked on.

5.81433Some see it without mistrust of ill;

5.82434Others there are that, scorning, grin thereat

5.83435And saith, ‘there goes the millerʼs daughterʼs wooersʼ.

5.84436Ah me, whom chiefly and most of all it doth concern,

5.85437To spend my time in grief and vex my soul!

5.86438To think my love should be rewarded thus,

5.87439And for thy sake abhor all womankind.

440May not a maid look upon a man

5.89441Without suspicious judgment of the world?

If sight do move offence, it is the better not to see.

5.91443But thou didst more, unconstant as thou art,

5.92444For with them thou hadst talk and conference.

445May not a maid talk with a man without mistrust?

Not with such men suspected amorous.

I grieve to see my Manvilleʼs jealousy.

Ah Em, faithful love is full of jealousy.

5.97449So did I love thee true and faithfully,

5.98450For which I am rewarded most unthankfully.

And so away? What, in displeasure gone,

5.100453And left me such a bitter sweet to gnaw upon?

5.101454Ah Manville, little wotʼst thou

5.102455How near this parting goeth to my heart.

5.103456Uncourteous love, whose followers reap reward

5.104457Of hate, disdain, reproach, and infamy,

5.105458The fruit of frantic, bedlam jealousy!

5.106460But here comes one of these suspicious men.

5.107461Witness, my God, without desert of me,

5.108462For only Manville honour I in heart,

5.109463Nor shall unkindness cause me from him to start.

[Aside] For this good fortune, Venus be thou blessed,

5.111465To meet my love, the mistress of my heart,

5.112466Where time and place gives opportunity

5.113467At full to let her understand my love.

5.114469Fair mistress, since my fortune sorts so well,

5.115470Hear you a word.

Hear you a word. What meaneth this?

5.116471Nay, stay, fair Em.

Nay, stay, fair Em. I am going homewards, sir.

Yet stay, sweet love, to whom I must disclose

5.118474The hidden secrets of a loverʼs thoughts,

5.119475Not doubting but to find such kind remorse

5.120476As naturally you are inclined to.

The gentleman, your friend, sir, 478Iʼve not seen him

5.122This four days at the least.

This four days at the least. Whatʼs that to me?

5.123I speak not, sweet, in person of my friend,

5.124480But for myself, whom if that love deserve

5.125481To have regard, being honourable love,

5.126482Not base affects of loose lascivious love

5.127483Whom youthful wantons play and dally with,

5.128484But that unites in honourable bands

5.129Of holy rites, 485and knits the sacred knot that gods —

What mean you, sir, to keep me here so long?

5.131487I cannot understand you by your signs.

5.132488You keep a-prattling with your lips,

5.133489But never a word you speak that I can hear.

490[Aside] What, is she deaf? A great impediment!

5.135491Yet remedies there are for such defects. —

5.136492Sweet Em, it is no little grief to me

5.137493To see where Nature in her pride of art

5.138494Hath wrought perfections rich and admirable —

495Speak you to me, sir?

To thee, my only joy.

I cannot hear you.

O plague of Fortune! O hell without compare!

5.143499What boots it us to gaze and not enjoy?

500Fare you well, sir.

Farewell, my love. Nay, farewell life and all!

5.146502Could I procure redress for this infirmity,

5.147503It might be means she would regard my suit.

5.148504I am acquainted with the kingʼs physicians,

5.149505Amongst the which thereʼs one mine honest friend,

5.150506Signor Alberto, a very learned man;

5.151507His judgment will I have to help this ill.

5.152508Ah Em, fair Em, if art can make thee whole,

5.153509Iʼll buy that sense for thee, although it cost me dear.

5.154510But Mountney, stay. This may be but deceit,

5.155511A matter feigned only to delude thee,

5.156512And not unlike, perhaps by Valingford.

5.157513He loves fair Em as well as I.

5.158514(As well as I? Ah no, not half so well.)

5.159515Put case, yet may he be thine enemy,

5.160516And give her counsel to dissemble thus.

5.161517Iʼll try the event, and if it fall out so,

5.162518Friendship farewell, love makes me now a foe.

520Trust me, my lord, I am sorry for your hurt.

Gramercy, madam, but it is not great.

6.3522Only a thrust, pricked with a rapierʼs point.

How grew the quarrel, my lord?

Sweet lady, for thy sake. 525There was this last night two masks, in one company 526myself the foremost, the other strangers were. 527Amongst the which, when the music began to sound the measures, 528each masker made choice of his lady, 529 and one more forward than the rest stepped towards thee, 530which I perceiving, thrust him aside and took thee myself. 531But this was taken in so ill part 532that at my coming out of the court gate, with justling together, 533it was my chance to be thrust into the arm. 534The doer thereof, because he was the original cause of the disorder 535at that inconvenient time, was presently committed 536and is this morning sent for to answer the matter. 537And I think here he comes.

6.5.2What? Sir Robert of Windsor! How now?

Iʼfaith, my lord, a prisoner. But what ails your arm?

Hurt the last night by mischance.

540What, not in the mask at the court gate?

Yes, trust me, there.

Why then, my lord, I thank you for my nightʼs lodging.

And I you for my hurt, if it were so. [To the Jailer] 544Keeper, away, I discharge you of your prisoner.

545Lord Marquis, you offered me disgrace to shoulder me.

Sir, I knew you not, and therefore you must pardon me; 547and the rather it might be alleged to me of 548mere simplicity to see another dance with my mistress 549disguised, and I myself in presence. But seeing it 550was our haps to damnify each other unwillingly, 551let us be content with our harms 552and lay the fault where it was and so become friends.

Iʼfaith, I am content with my nightʼs lodging, 554if you be content with your hurt.

555Not content that I have it, but content 556to forget how I came by it.

My lord, here comes Lady Blanche. Letʼs away.

With good will. [To Mariana] Lady, you will stay?

Madam.

Mariana, as I am grieved with thy presence, 563so am I not offended for thy absence, 564and were it not a breach to modesty, 565thou shouldst know before I left thee.

How near is this humour to madness. 567If you hold on as you begin, you 568are in a pretty way to scolding.

To scolding, huswife?

570Madam, here comes one.

There doth indeed. Fellow, wouldst thou have anything 573with anybody here?

I have a letter to deliver to the Lady Mariana.

575Give it me.

There must none but she have it.

Go to, foolish fellow.

6.27.2579And therefore, to ease the anger I sustain, 580Iʼll be so bold to open it. Whatʼs here? [Reading] 581‘Sir Robert greets you wellʼ? 582You, mistress – his ‘loveʼ, his ‘lifeʼ? Oh, amorous man, 583how he entertains his new mistress! 584And bestows on Lübeck, his odd friend, 585a horn nightcap to keep in his wit.

Madam, though you have discourteously 587read my letter, yet I pray you give it me.

Then take it.

6.29.2There, and there, and there!

590How far doth this differ from modesty! 591Yet will I gather up the pieces, which happily 592may show to me the intent thereof, 593though not the meaning.

6.30.2[Reading] 595‘Your servant and love, Sir Robert of Windsor, 596alias William the Conqueror, wisheth long health and happinessʼ. 597Is this William the Conqueror, shrouded under 598the name of ‘Sir Robert of Windsorʼ? 599Were he the monarch of the world, 600he should not dispossess Lübeck of his love. 601Therefore I will to the court, and there, if I can, 602close to be friends with Lady Blanche, 603and thereby keep Lübeck, my love, for myself, 604and further the Lady Blanche in her suit as much as I may.

Jealousy, that sharps the loverʼs sight

7.2607And makes him conceive and conster his intent,

7.3608Hath so bewitched my lovely Manvilleʼs senses

7.4609That he misdoubts his Em that loves his soul.

7.5610He doth suspect corrivals in his love,

7.6611Which how untrue it is, be judge, my God.

7.7612But now no more: here cometh Valingford;

7.8613Shift him off now, as thou hast done the other.

See how Fortune presents me with the hope I looked for. 615Fair Em—

Who is that?

I am Valingford, thy love and friend.

I cry you mercy, sir, I thought so by your speech.

What aileth thy eyes?

620O, blind, sir, blind, stricken blind by mishap on a sudden.

But is it possible you should be taken on such a sudden? 622Infortunate Valingford, to be thus crossed in thy love! 623Fair Em, I am not a little sorry to see this thy hard hap. 624Yet, nevertheless, I am acquainted with a learned physician 625that will do anything for thee at my request. 626To him will I resort, and enquire his judgment 627as concerning the recovery of so excellent a sense.

O lord, sir, and of all things I cannot abide physic; 629the very name thereof to me is odious.

630No? Not the thing will do thee so much good? 631Sweet Em, hither I came to parley of love, 632hoping to have found in thee thy wonted prosperity. 633And have the gods so unmercifully thwarted my expectation 634by dealing so sinisterly with thee, sweet Em?

635Good sir, no more: it fits not me

7.19636To have respect to such vain fantasies

7.20637As idle love presents my ears withall;

7.21638More reason I should ghostly give myself

7.22639To sacred prayers for this, my former sin,

7.23640For which this plague is justly fallen upon me,

7.24641Than to hearken to the vanities of love.

Yet, sweet Em,

7.26Accept this jewel at my hand, 643which I

7.27Bestow on thee in token of my love.

A jewel, sir? What pleasure can I have

7.29645In jewels, treasure, or any worldly thing

7.30646That want my sight that should discern thereof?

7.31647Ah, sir, I must leave you. 648The pain of mine eyes is so extreme 649I cannot long stay in a place. I take my leave.

650Zounds, what a cross is this to my conceit! 651But, Valingford, search the depth of this device. 652Why, may not this be feigned subtlety, 653by Mountneyʼs invention, to the intent 654that I, seeing such occasion, should leave off my suit 655and not any more persist to solicit her of love? 656Iʼll try the event: if I can by any means perceive 657the effect of this deceit to be procured by his means – 658friend Mountney, the one of us is like to repent our bargain.

660Lady,

8.2Since that occasion, forward in our good,

8.3661Presenteth place and opportunity,

8.4662Let me entreat your wonted kind consent

8.5663And friendly furtherance in a suit I have.

My lord, you know you need not to entreat,

8.7665But may command Mariana to her power,

8.8666Be it no impeachment to my honest fame.

Free are my thoughts from such base villainy

8.10668As may in question, lady, call your name.

8.11669Yet is the matter of such consequence,

8.12670Standing upon my honourable credit

8.13671To be effected with such zeal and secrecy,

8.14672As should I speak and fail my expectation

8.15673ʼTwould redound greatly to my prejudice.

My lord, wherein hath Mariana

8.17Given you occasion 675that you should mistrust,

8.18Or else be jealous of my secrecy?

Mariana, do not misconster of me:

8.20677I not mistrust thee, nor thy secrecy;

8.21678Nor let my love misconster my intent,

8.22679Nor think thereof but well and honourable.

8.23680Thus stands the case:

8.24Thou knowʼst from England 681hither came with me

8.25Robert of Windsor, a nobleman at arms,

8.26682Lusty and valiant, in springtime of his years;

8.27683No marvel then though he prove amorous.

True, my lord, he came to see fair Blanche.

685No, Mariana, that is not it. 686His love to Blanche

8.30Was then extinct 687when first he saw thy face.

8.31688ʼTis thee he loves, yea, thou art only she

8.32689That is mistress and commander of his thoughts.

690Well, well, my lord, I like you, for such drifts

8.34691Put silly ladies often to their shifts.

8.35692Oft have I heard you say you loved me well,

8.36693Yea, sworn the same, and I believed you, too.

8.37694Can this be found an action of good faith,

8.38695Thus to dissemble where you found true love?

Mariana,

8.40I not dissemble, on mine honour,

8.41697Nor fails my faith to thee. But for my friend,

8.42698For princely William, by whom thou shalt possess

8.43699The title of estate and majesty,

8.44700Fitting thy love and virtues of thy mind –

8.45701For him I speak, for him I do entreat,

8.46702And with thy favour fully do resign

8.47703To him the claim and interest of my love.

8.48704Sweet Mariana, then, deny me not.

8.49705Love William, love my friend, and honour me,

8.50706Who else is clean dishonoured by thy means.

Born to mishap, myself am only she

8.52708On whom the sun of Fortune never shined,

8.53709But planets ruled by retrograde aspect

8.54710Foretold mine ill in my nativity.

Sweet lady, cease. Let my entreaty serve

8.56712To pacify the passion of thy grief,

8.57713Which well I know proceeds of ardent love.

But Lübeck now regards not Mariana.

715Even as my life, so love I Mariana.

Why do you post me to another then?

He is my friend, and I do love the man.

Then will Duke William rob me of my love?

No, as his life Mariana he doth love.

720Speak for yourself, my lord; let him alone.

So do I, madam, for he and I am one.

Then loving you I do content you both.

In loving him you shall content us both:

8.68724Me, for I crave that favour at your hands,

8.69725He, for [he] hopes that comfort at your hands.

Leave off, my lord; here comes the lady Blanche.

Hard hap to break us of our talk so soon;

8.72729Sweet Mariana, do remember me.

730Thy Mariana cannot choose but remember thee.

Mariana, well met. You are very forward in your love?

Madam, be it in secret spoken to yourself, 733if you will but follow the complot I have invented, 734you will not think me so forward, 735as yourself shall prove fortunate.

As how?

Madam, as thus. It is not unknown to you 738that Sir Robert of Windsor, 739a man that you do not little esteem, 740hath long importuned me of love; 741but rather than I will be found false 742or unjust to the Marquis Lübeck, 743I will – as did the constant lady Penelope – 744undertake to effect some great task.

745What of all this?

The next time that Sir Robert shall come 747in his wonted sort to solicit me with love, 748I will seem to agree and like of anything 749that the knight shall demand, so far forth 750as it be no impeachment to my chastity. 751And, to conclude, ʼpoint some place for to meet the man 752for my conveyance from the Denmark court; 753which determined upon, he will appoint some certain time 754for our departure, whereof you having intelligence, 755you may soon set down a plot to wear the English crown. 756And then—

What then?

If Sir Robert prove a king, and you his queen, 759how then?

760Were I assured of the one, as I am persuaded 761of the other, there were some possibility in it. 762But here comes the man.

Madam, begone, and you shall see 764I will work to your desire and my content.

765Lady, this is well and happily met.

8.85766Fortune hitherto hath been my foe,

8.86767And though I have oft sought to speak with you,

8.87768Yet still I have been crossed with sinister haps.

8.88769I cannot, madam, tell a loving tale,

8.89770Or court my mistress with fabulous discourses,

8.90771That am a soldier sworn to follow arms;

8.91775Nor may I make my love the siege of Troy

8.92776That am a stranger in this country.

8.93772But this I bluntly let you understand:

8.94773I honour you with such religious zeal

8.95774As may become an honourable mind.

8.96777First, what I am, I know you are resolved,

8.97778For that my friend hath let you that to understand,

8.98779The Marquis Lübeck, to whom I am so bound,

8.99780That, whilst I live, I count me only his.

Surely you are beholding to the Marquis,

8.101782For he hath been an earnest spokesman in your cause.

And yields my lady then at his request,

8.103784To grace Duke William with her gracious love?

785My lord, I am a prisoner,

8.105And hard it were 786to get me from the court.

An easy matter to get you from the court,

8.107788If case that you will thereto give consent.

Put case I should, how would you use me then?

790Not otherwise but well and honourably.

8.110791I have at sea a ship that doth attend,

8.111792Which shall forthwith conduct us into England,

8.112793Where, when we are, I straight will marry thee.

8.113794We may not stay deliberating long,

8.114795Lest that suspicion, envious of our weal,

8.115796Set in a foot to hinder our pretence.

[Producing a veil] But this I think were most convenient,

8.117798To mask my face the better to ʼscape unknown.

A good device. Till then, farewell, fair love.

800But this I must entreat your grace:

8.120801You would not seek by lust unlawfully

8.121802To wrong my chaste determinations.

I hold that man most shameless in his sin

8.123804That seeks to wrong an honest ladyʼs name,

8.124805Whom he thinks worthy of his marriage bed.

In hope your oath is true,

8.126807I leave your grace till the appointed time.

O happy William, blessèd in thy love,

8.128810Most fortunate in Marianaʼs love!

8.129811Well, Lübeck, well, this courtesy of thine

8.130812I will requite if God permit me life.

815Valingford, so hardly I digest

9.2An injury 816thou hast profferèd me,

9.3As were it not that I detest to do

9.4What stands 817not with the honour of my name,

9.5818Thy death should pay thy ransom of thy fault.

And Mountney, had not my revenging wrath,

9.7820Incensed with more than ordinary love,

9.8821Been such for to deprive thee of thy life,

9.9822Thou hadst not lived to brave me as thou dost.

9.10Wretch as thou art,

9.11823Wherein hath Valingford offended thee?

9.12824That honourable bond which late we did

9.13Confirm 825in presence of the gods,

9.14826When with the Conqueror we arrivèd here,

9.15827For my part hath been kept inviolably,

9.16828Till now, too much abused by thy villainy,

9.17829I am enforced to cancel all those bands

9.18830By hating him which I so well did love.

Subtle thou art, and cunning in thy fraud,

9.20832That giving me occasion of offence,

9.21833Thou pickʼst a quarrel to excuse thy shame.

9.22834Why, Valingford, was it not enough for thee

9.23835To be a rival ʼtwixt me and my love,

9.24836But counsel her, to my no small disgrace,

9.25837That when I came to talk with her of love

9.26838She should seem deaf, as feigning not to hear?

But hath she, Mountney, used thee as thou sayʼst?

840Thou knowʼst too well she hath, 841wherein

9.29Thou couldst not do me greater injury.

Then I perceive we are deluded both.

9.31843For when I offered many gifts

9.32Of gold and jewels 844to entreat for love,

9.33She hath refused them with a coy disdain,

9.34845Alleging that she could not see the sun.

9.35846The same conjectured I to be thy drift,

9.36847That feigning so she might be rid of me.

The like did I by thee. But are not these

9.38Natural impediments?

In my conjecture merely counterfeit.

9.40850Therefore letʼs join hands in friendship once again,

9.41851Since that the jar grew only by conjecture.

With all my heart. Yet letʼs try the truth hereof.

With right good will. We will straight unto her father,

9.44854And there to learn whether it be so or no.

Come on, my love, the comfort of my life,

10.2858Disguisèd thus we may remain unknown.

10.3859And get we once to seas, I force not then,

10.4860We quickly shall attain the English shore.

But this I urge you with your former oath:

10.6862You shall not seek to violate mine honour

10.7863Until our marriage rites be all performed.

Mariana, here I swear to thee by heaven,

10.9865And by the honour that I bear to arms,

10.10866Never to seek or crave at hands of thee

10.11867The spoil of honourable chastity

10.12868Until we do attain the English coast,

10.13869Where thou shalt be my right-espousèd queen.

870In hope your oath proceedeth from your heart,

10.15871Letʼs leave the court, and betake us to his power

10.16872That governs all things to his mighty will,

10.17873And will reward the just with endless joy,

10.18874And plague the bad with most extreme annoy.

875Lady, as little tarriance as we may,

10.20876Lest some misfortune happen by the way.

I tell you, sir, it is no little grief to me 880you should so hardily conceit of my daughter, 881whose honest report, though I say it, 882was never blotted with any title of defamation.

Father Miller, the repair of those gentlemen to your house 884hath given me great occasion to mislike.

885As for those gentlemen, I never saw in them 886any evil entreaty. But should they have proffered it, 887her chaste mind hath proof enough to prevent it.

Those gentlemen are as honest as ever I saw, 889for iʼfaith, one of them gave me sixpence 890to fetch a quart of sack. See, master, here they come.

Trotter, call Em; now they are here together, 893Iʼll have this matter throughly debated.

Father, well met. We are come to confer with you.

895[Aside] Nay, with his daughter, rather.

Thus it is, father, we are come to crave your friendship in a matter.

Gentlemen, as you are strangers to me, 898yet by the way of courtesy you shall demand 899any reasonable thing at my hands.

900[Aside] What, is the matter so forward 901they came to crave his good will?

It is given us to understand that your daughter 903is suddenly become both blind and deaf.

Marry, God forbid! I have sent for her. Indeed, 905she hath kept her chamber this three days. 906It were no little grief to me if it should be so!

[Aside] This is Godʼs judgment for her treachery.

Gentlemen, I fear your words are too true: 910see where Trotter comes leading of her. 911What ails my Em, not blind, I hope?

[Aside] Mountney and Valingford both together? 913And Manville, to whom I have faithfully vowed my love? 914Now, Em, suddenly help thyself.

915This is no dissembling, Valingford.

If it be, it is cunningly contrived of all sides.

Trotter, lend me thy hand. 918[Aside to Trotter] And, as thou lovʼst me, keep my counsel 919and justify whatsoever I say, and Iʼll largely requite thee.

920[Aside to Em] Ah, thatʼs as much as to say you would tell a monstrous, 921terrible, horrible, outrageous lie, 922and I shall sooth it. No, berlady!

[Aside] My present extremity wills me. [Aside to Trotter] If thou love me, Trotter—

[Aside] That same word ‘loveʼ makes me to do anything.

925Trotter, whereʼs my father?

Why, what a blind dunce are you! Can you not see? 928He standeth right before you.

Is this my father? 930Good father, give me leave to sit 931where I may not be disturbed, 932sith God hath visited me both of my sight and hearing.

Tell me, sweet Em, how came this blindness? 934Thy eyes are lovely to look on, 935and yet have they lost the benefit of their sight. 936What a grief is this to thy poor father!

Good father, let me not stand as an open gazing-stock to every one, 938but in a place alone as fits a creature so miserable.

Trotter, lead her in, the utter overthrow 940of poor Goddardʼs joy and only solace.

[Aside] Both blind and deaf? Then is she no wife for me,

11.29943And glad am I so good occasion is happened.

11.30944Now will I away to [Westchester]

11.31945And leave these gentlemen to their blind fortune.

Since fortune hath thus spitefully crossed our hope,

11.33947Let us leave this quest and hearken after our king,

11.34948Whoʼs at this day landed at Liverpool.

Go, my lord, Iʼll follow you. 950Well, now Mountney is gone, 951Iʼll stay behind to solicit my love, 952for I imagine that I shall find this but a feigned invention 953thereby to have us leave off our suits.

Well, Lübeck, well; it is not possible

12.2957But you must be consenting to this act.

12.3958Is this the man so highly you extolled,

12.4959And play a part so hateful with his friend?

12.5960Since first he came with thee into the court,

12.6961What entertainment and what countenance

12.7962He hath received none better knows than thou.

12.8963In recompense whereof he quites me well

12.9964To steal away fair Mariana, my prisoner,

12.10965Whose ransom being lately ʼgreed upon,

12.11966I am deluded of by this escape.

12.12967Besides, I know not how to answer it

12.13968When she shall be demanded home to Swethia.

My gracious lord, conjecture not, I pray,

12.15970Worser of Lübeck than he doth deserve.

12.16971Your highness knows Mariana was my love,

12.17972Sole paragon and mistress of my thoughts.

12.18973Is it likely I should know of her departure,

12.19974Wherein there is no man injured more than I?

975That carries reason, Marquis, I confess.

12.21976[To Rosilio] Call forth my daughter.

[To Rosilio] Call forth my daughter. Yet I am persuaded

12.22977That she, poor soul, suspected not her going,

12.23978For, as I hear, she likewise loved the man,

12.24979Which he, to blame, did not at all regard.

980My lord, here is the Princess Mariana:

12.26981It is your daughter is conveyed away.

What, my daughter gone?

12.28983Now, Marquis, your villainy breaks forth.

12.29984This match is of your making, gentle sir,

12.30985And you shall dearly know the price thereof.

Knew I thereof, or that there was intent

12.32987In Robert thus to steal your highnessʼ daughter,

12.33988Let heavens in justice presently confound me.

Not all the protestations thou canst use

12.35990Shall save thy life. Away with him to prison!

12.36991And, minion, otherwise it cannot be

12.37992But you are an agent in this treachery.

12.38993I will revenge it throughly on you both.

12.39994Away with her to prison!

12.40Hereʼs stuff indeed! 995My daughter stolen away?

12.41996It booteth not thus to disturb myself,

12.42997But presently to send to English William,

12.43998To send me that proud knight of Windsor hither,

12.44999Here in my court to suffer for his shame,

12.451000Or at my pleasure to be punished there;

12.461001Withal, that Blanche be sent me home again,

12.471002Or I shall fetch her unto Windsorʼs cost,

12.481003Yea, and Williamʼs too if he deny her me!

1005Could any cross, could any plague, be worse?

13.21006Could heaven or hell, did both conspire in one

13.31007To afflict my soul, invent a greater scourge

13.41008Than presently I am tormented with?

13.51009Ah, Mariana, cause of my lament,

13.61010Joy of my heart, and comfort of my life.

13.71011For thee I breathe my sorrows in the air

13.81012And tire myself, for silently I sigh:

13.91013My sorrow afflicts my soul with equal passion.

Go to, sirrah, put up. It is to small purpose.

1015Hence, villains, hence! Dare you lay your hands

13.121016Upon your sovereign?

Well, sir, we will deal for that.

13.141018But here comes one will remedy all this.

13.151020My lord, watching this night in the camp

13.161021We took this man and know not what he is,

13.171022And in his company was a gallant dame,

13.181023A woman fair in outward show she seemed,

13.191024But that her face was masked we could not see

13.201025The grace and favour of her countenance.

[To William] Tell me, good fellow, of whence and what thou art?

Why do you not answer my lord? 1028He takes scorn to answer.

And takʼst thou scorn to answer my demand?

13.241030Thy proud behaviour very well deserves

13.251031This misdemeanour at the worst be construed.

13.261032Why, dost thou neither know, nor hast thou heard

13.271033That in the absence of the Saxon duke

13.281034Demarch is his especial substitute

13.291035To punish those that shall offend the laws?

In knowing this, I know thou art a traitor,

13.311037A rebel, and mutinous conspirator.

13.321038Why, Demarch, knowʼst thou who I am?

Pardon, my dread lord, the error of my sense,

13.341040And misdemeanour to your princely excellency.

Why, Demarch,

13.36What is the cause my subjects are in arms?

Free are my thoughts, my dread and gracious lord,

13.381043From treason to your state and commonweal.

13.391044Only revengement of a private grudge

13.401045By Lord Dirot lately proffered me,

13.411046That stands not with the honour of my name,

13.421047Is cause I have assembled for my guard

13.431048Some men in arms that may withstand his force,

13.441049Whose settled malice aimeth at my life.

1050Where is Lord Dirot?

Where is Lord Dirot? In arms, my gracious lord,

13.461052Not past two miles from hence, 1053as credibly

13.47I am ascertained.

I am ascertained. Well, come, let us go.

13.481055I fear I shall find traitors of you both.

Indeed, sir, it would do very well 1059if you could entreat your father to come hither; 1060but if you think it be too far, 1061I care not much to take horse and ride to Manchester. 1062I am sure my daughter is content with either: 1063how sayʼst thou, Elinor, art thou not?

As you shall think best, I must be contented.

1065Well, Elinor, farewell. Only thus much 1066I pray: make all things in a readiness, 1067either to serve here or to carry thither with us.

As for that, sir, take you no care, 1069and so I betake you to your journey.

14.4.31071But soft, what gentleman is this?

God speed, sir. Might a man crave a word or two with you?

God forbid else, sir. I pray you speak your pleasure.

The gentleman that parted from you, was he not 1075of Manchester, his father living there of good account?

Yes, marry, is he, sir. Why do you ask? 1077Belike you have had some acquaintance with him?

I have been acquainted in times past, 1079but through his double-dealing 1080I am grown weary of his company. 1081For be it spoken to you, 1082he hath been acquainted with a poor millerʼs daughter, 1083and divers times hath promised her marriage. 1084But what with his delays and flouts, 1085he hath brought her into such a taking 1086that I fear me it will cost her her life.

To be plain with you, sir, 1088his father and I have been of old acquaintance, 1089and a motion was made 1090between my daughter and his son, 1091which is now throughly agreed upon, 1092save only the place appointed for the marriage,

14.1093whether it shall be kept here or at Manchester; 1094and for no other occasion he is now ridden.

1095What hath he done to you, 1096that you should speak so ill of the man?

Oh, gentlewoman, I cry you mercy – 1098he is your husband that shall be!

If I knew this to be true, 1100he should not be my husband, were he never so good. 1101And therefore, good father, 1102I would desire you to take the pains 1103to bear this gentleman company to Manchester 1104to know whether this be true or no.

1105Now trust me, gentleman, he deals with me very hardily, 1106knowing how well I meant to him. 1107But I care not much to ride to Manchester 1108to know whether his fatherʼs will be 1109he should deal with me so badly. 1110Will it please you, sir, to go in? We will presently take horse and away.

If it please you to go in, 1112Iʼll follow you presently.

14.15.21113Now shall I be revenged on Manville, 1114and by this means get Em to my wife. 1115And therefore I will straight to her fatherʼs 1116and inform them both of all that is happened.

What news with the Denmark Ambassador?

1120Marry, thus:

15.3The King of Denmark and my sovereign

15.41121Doth send to know of thee what is the cause

15.51122That injuriously, against the law of arms,

15.61123Thou hast stolen away his only daughter, Blanche,

15.71124The only stay and comfort of his life.

15.81125Therefore, by me

15.9He willeth thee to send his daughter Blanche,

15.101126Or else forthwith he will levy such an host

15.111127As soon shall fetch her in despite of thee.

Ambassador, this answer I return thy king:

15.131129He willeth me to send his daughter Blanche,

15.141130Saying I conveyed her from the Danish court,

15.151131That never yet did once as think thereof.

15.161132As for his menacing and daunting threats,

15.171133I nil regard him nor his Danish power.

15.181134For if he come to fetch her forth my realm,

15.191135I will provide him such a banquet here

15.201136That he shall have small cause to give me thanks.

Is this your answer, then?

It is, and so begone.

I go, but to your cost.

1140Demarch,

15.25Our subjects, erst-levied in civil broils,

15.261141Muster forthwith for to defend the realm.

15.271142In hope whereof that we shall find you true,

15.281143We freely pardon this thy late offence.

Most humble thanks I render to your grace.

Alas, gentleman, why should you trouble yourself so much, 1148considering the imperfections of my daughter, 1149 which is able to withdraw the love of any man from her, 1150as already it hath done in her first choice. 1151 Master Manville hath forsaken her, 1152 and at [Westchester] shall be married to a manʼs daughter of no little wealth. 1153But if my daughter knew so much, 1154it would go very near her heart, I fear me.

1155Father Miller, such is my entire affection to your daughter 1156as no misfortune whatsoever can alter. 1157My fellow, Mountney, thou seeʼst gave quickly over, 1158but I, by reason of my good meaning, 1159am not so soon to be changed, 1160although I am borne off with scorns and denial.

Trust me, sir, I know not what to say. 1163My daughter is not to be compelled by me. 1164But here she comes herself; speak to her and spare not, 1165for I never was troubled with love matters so much before.

[Aside] Good lord, shall I never be rid of this importunate man? 1167Now must I dissemble blindness again. 1168Once more for thy sake, Manville, thus I am enforced, 1169because I shall complete my full-resolved mind to thee. 1170– Father, where are you?

Here, sweet Em. Answer this gentleman 1172that would so fain enjoy thy love.

Where are you, sir? Will you never leave 1174this idle and vain pursuit of love? 1175Is not England stored enough to content you, 1176but you must still trouble the poor 1177contemptible maid of Manchester?

None can content me but the fair maid of Manchester.

I perceive love is vainly described, 1180that being blind himself 1181would have you likewise troubled with a blind wife, 1182having the benefit of your eyes, 1183but neither follow him so much in folly, 1184but love one in whom you may better delight.

1185Father Miller, thy daughter shall have honour 1186by granting me her love. 1187I am a gentleman of King Williamʼs court, 1188and no mean man in King Williamʼs favour.

If you be a lord, sir, as you say, 1190you offer both yourself and me great wrong: 1191yours, as apparent in limiting your love to unorderly, 1192for which you rashly endure reproachment; 1193mine, as open and evident, 1194when being shut from the vanities of this world, 1195you would have me as an open gazing-stock to all the world. 1196For lust, not love, leads you into this error. 1197But from the one I will keep me as well as I can, 1198and yield the other to none but my father, 1199as I am bound by duty.

1200Why, fair Em, Manville hath forsaken thee, 1201and must at [Westchester] be married, which, 1202if I speak otherwise than true, 1203let thy father speak what credibly he hath heard.

But can it be Manville will deal so unkindly 1205to reward my justice with such monstrous ungentleness? 1206Have I dissembled for thy sake, 1207and dost thou now thus requite it? 1208Indeed, these many days I have not seen him, 1209which hath made me marvel at his long absence. 1210But, father, are you assured if the words he spake 1211were concerning Manville?

In sooth, daughter, now it is forth 1213I must needs confirm it. 1214Master Manville hath forsaken thee, 1215and at [Westchester] must be married 1216to a manʼs daughter of no little wealth. 1217His own father procures it, 1218and therefore I dare credit it 1219and do thou believe it, 1220for trust me, daughter, it is so.

Then, good father, pardon the injury 1222that I have done to you, only causing your grief, 1223by over-fond affecting a man so truthless. 1224And you likewise, sir, I pray hold me excused, 1225as I hope this cause will allow sufficiently for me. 1226My love to Manville, thinking he would requite it, 1227hath made me double with my father and you, 1228and many more besides, 1229which I will no longer hide from you. 1230That enticing speeches should not beguile me, 1231I have made myself deaf to any but to him, 1232and lest any manʼs person should please me more than his, 1233I have dissembled the want of my sight, 1234both which shadows of my irrevocable affections 1235I have not spared to confirm before him, 1236my father, and all other amorous solicitors. 1237Wherewith not made acquainted, I perceive 1238my true intent hath wrought mine own sorrow, 1239and seeking by love to be regarded 1240am cut off with contempt and despised.

Tell me, sweet Em, hast thou but feigned all this while for his love, 1242that hath so discourteously forsaken thee?

Credit me, father, I have told you the truth, 1244wherewith I desire you and Lord Valingford not to be displeased. 1245For ought else I shall say, 1246let my present grief hold me excused. 1247But, may I live to see that ungrateful man 1248justly rewarded for his treachery, 1249poor Em would think herself not a little happy. 1250Favour my departing at this instant, 1251for my troubled thought desires to meditate alone in silence.

Will not Em show one cheerful look on Valingford?

Alas, sir, blame her not. You see she hath good cause, 1255being so handled by this gentleman. 1256And so Iʼll leave you, and go comfort my poor wench 1257as well as I may.

Farewell, good father.

Rosilio, is this the place whereas

17.2The Duke William 1262should meet me?

The Duke William should meet me? It is, and like your grace.

Go, captain, away; regard the charge I gave:

17.41265See all our men be marshalled for the fight,

17.51266Dispose the wards as lately was devised,

17.61267And let the prisoners under several guards

17.71268Be kept apart until you hear from us.

17.81269Let this suffice, you know my resolution.

17.91270If William, Duke of Saxon, be the man

17.101271That by his answer sent us, he would send

17.111272Not words but wounds. Not parleys, but alarums

17.121273Must be decider of this controversy.

17.131274Rosilio, stay with me; the rest begone.

All but Demarch go shroud you out of sight,

17.151277For I will go parley with the prince myself.

Should Sueno by this parley call you forth

17.171279Upon intent injuriously to deal,

17.181280This offereth too much opportunity.

No, no, Demarch,

17.20That were a breach 1282against the law of arms.

17.21[To attendants] Therefore begone, 1283and leave us here alone.

17.221284I see that Sueno is master of his word.

17.231285Sueno, William of Saxony greeteth thee,

17.241286Either well or ill, according to thy intent.

17.251287If well thou wish to him and Saxony,

17.261288He bids thee friendly well as he can;

17.271289If ill thou wish to him and Saxony,

17.281290He must withstand thy malice as he may.

William,

17.30For other name and title give I none

17.311292To him, who, were he worthy of those honours

17.321293That Fortune and his predecessors left,

17.331294I ought by right and humane courtesy

17.341295To grace his style with ‘Duke of Saxonyʼ,

17.351296But, for I find a base, degenerate mind,

17.361297I frame my speech according to the man,

17.371298And not the state that he unworthy holds.

Herein, Sueno, dost thou abase thy state:

17.391300To break the peace which by our ancestors

17.401301Hath heretofore been honourably kept.

And should that peace forever have been kept,

17.421303Had not thyself been author of the breach.

17.431304Nor stands it with the honour of my state,

17.441305Or nature of a father to his child,

17.451306That I should so be robbèd of my daughter,

17.461307And not unto the utmost of my power

17.471308Revenge so intolerable an injury.

Is this the colour of your quarrel, Sueno?

17.491310I well perceive the wisest men may err.

17.501311And think you I conveyed away your daughter Blanche?

Art thou so impudent to deny thou didst,

17.521313When that the proof thereof is manifest?

What proof is there?

1315Thine own confession is sufficient proof.

Did I confess I stole your daughter Blanche?

Thou didst confess thou hadst a lady hence.

I have and do.

Why, that was Blanche, my daughter.

1320Nay, that was Mariana,

17.601321Who wrongfully thou detainʼst prisoner.

Shameless, persisting in thy ill,

17.621323Thou dost maintain a manifest untruth,

17.631324As she shall justify unto thy teeth.

17.641325Rosilio, fetch her and the Marquis hither.

It cannot be I should be so deceived!

I heard this night among the soldiers

17.671329That in their watch they took a pensive lady,

17.681330Who, at thʼappointment of the Lord Dirot

17.69Is yet in keeping. 1331What she is I know not;

17.701332Only thus much I overheard by chance.

And what of this?

It may be Blanche, the King of Denmarkʼs daughter.

1335It may be so, but on my life, it is not!

17.741336Yet, Demarch, go and fetch her straight.

Pleaseth your highness,

17.76Here is the Marquis and Mariana.

See here, Duke William, your competitors

17.781340That were consenting to my daughterʼs ʼscape.

17.791341Let them resolve you of the truth herein.

17.801342And here I vow and solemnly protest,

17.811343That in thy presence they shall lose their heads

17.821344Unless I hear whereas my daughter is.

1345Oh, Marquis Lübeck, how it grieveth me

17.841346That for my sake thou shouldst endure these bonds.

17.851347Be judge, my soul, that feels the martyrdom.

Duke William, you know it is for your cause

17.871349It pleaseth thus the King to misconceive of me,

17.881350And for his pleasure doth me injury.

May it please your highness,

17.901353Here is the lady you sent me for.

Away, Demarch, what tellʼst thou me of ladies?

17.921355I so detest the dealing of their sex,

17.931356As that I count a loverʼs state to be

17.94The base 1357and vilest slavery in the world.

[Aside] What humours are these? Hereʼs a strange alteration!

See, Duke William, is this Blanche or no?

17.971360You know her if you see her, I am sure.

Sueno, I was deceived, yea, utterly deceived.

17.991362Yet this is she: the same is Lady Blanche.

17.1001363And for mine error, here I am content

17.1011364To do whatsoeʼer Sueno shall set down.

17.1021365Ah, cruèl Mariana, thus to use

17.1031366The man which loved and honoured thee with his heart.

When first I came into your highnessʼ court,

17.1051368And William often importing me of love,

17.1061369I did devise

17.107To ease the grief your daughter did sustain:

17.1081370She should meet Sir William masked, as it were.

17.1091371This put in proof, did take so good effect,

17.1101372As yet it seems his grace is not resolved

17.1111373But it was I which he conveyed away.

May this be true? It cannot be but true.

17.1131375Was it Lady Blanche which I conveyed away?

17.1141376Unconstant Mariana, 1377thus to deal

17.115With him which meant to thee nought but faith.

[Kneeling] Pardon, dear father, my follies that are past,

17.1171379Wherein I have neglected my duty

17.1181380Which I in reverence ought to show your grace.

17.1191381For, led by love, I thus have gone astray,

17.1201382And now repent the errors I was in.

Stand up, dear daughter, though thy fault deserves

17.1221384For to be punished in the extremest sort,

17.1231385Yet love that covers multitude of sins

17.1241386Makes love in parents wink at childrenʼs faults.

17.1251387Sufficeth, Blanche, thy father loves thee so,

17.1261388Thy follies past he knows but will not know.

17.1271389And here, Duke William, take my daughter to thy wife,

17.1281390For well I am assured she loves thee well.

A proper conjunction!

17.130As who should say, 1392lately come out of the fire,

17.1311393I would go thrust myself into the flame.

17.1321394Let Mistress Nice go Saint it where she list,

17.1331395And coyly quaint it with dissembling face.

17.1341396I hold in scorn the fooleries that they use –

17.1351397I, being free, will never subject myself

17.1361398To any such as she is underneath the sun.

Refuseth thou to take my daughter to thy wife?

17.1381400I tell thee, Duke, this rash denial 1401may bring

17.139More mischief on thee than thou canst avoid.

Conceit hath wrought such general dislike

17.1411403Through the false dealing of Mariana

17.1421404That utterly I do abhor their sex.

17.1431405They are all disloyal, unconstant, all unjust.

17.1441406Who tries as I have tried, 1407and finds as I have found,

17.1451408Will say thereʼs no such creatures on the ground.

Unconstant knight, though some deserve no trust,

17.1471410Thereʼs others faithful, loving, loyal, and just.

How now, Lord Valingford, what makes these women here?

Here be two women, may it please your grace,

17.1501415That are contracted to one man, 1416and are

17.151In strife whether shall have him to their husband.

Stand forth, women, and say

17.1531418To whether of you did he first give his faith.

To me, forsooth.

To me, forsooth. To me, my gracious lord.

Speak, Manville, to whether didst thou give thy faith?

[Indicating Em] To say the truth, this maid had first my love.

Yea, Manville, but there was no witness by.

Thy conscience, Manville, a hundred witnesses!

1425She hath stolen a conscience to serve her own turn. 1426But you are deceived, iʼfaith he will none of you.

Indeed, dread lord, so dear I held her love,

17.1611428As in the same I put my whole delight.

17.1621429But some impediments, which at that instant happenʼd,

17.1631430Made me forsake her quite.

17.1641431For which I had her fatherʼs frank consent.

What were the impediments?

Why, she could neither hear nor see.

Now she doth both. Maiden, how were you cured?

1435Pardon, my lord, Iʼll tell your grace the truth,

17.1691436Be it not imputed to me as discredit.

17.1701437I loved this Manville so much that still my thought

17.1711438When he was absent did present to me

17.1721439The form and feature of that countenance,

17.1731440Which I did shrine an idol in mine heart.

17.1741441And never could I see a man, methought,

17.1751442That equaled Manville in my partial eye.

17.1761443Nor was there any love between us lost,

17.1771444But that I held the same in high regard,

17.1781445Until repair of some unto our house,

17.1791446Of whom my Manville grew thus jealious

17.1801447As if he took exception I vouchsafed

17.1811448To hear them speak, or saw them when they came.

17.1821449On which I straight took order with myself

17.1831450To void the scruple of his conscience

17.1841451By counterfeiting that I neither saw nor heard, –

17.1851452Any ways to rid my hands of them.

17.1861453All this I did to keep my Manvilleʼs love,

17.1871454Which he unkindly seeks for to reward.

1455And did my Em, to keep her faith with me,

17.1891456Dissemble that she neither heard nor saw?

17.1901457Pardon me, sweet Em, for I am only thine.

Lay off thy hands, disloyal as thou art!

17.1921459Nor shalt thou have possession of my love

17.1931460That canst so finely shift thy matters off.

17.1941461Put case I had been blind and could not see,

17.1951462As often times such visitations falls

17.1961463That pleaseth God, which all things doth dispose:

17.1971464Shouldst thou forsake me in regard of that?

17.1981465I tell thee, Manville,

17.199Hadst thou been blind, 1466or deaf, or dumb, or else

17.200What impediments 1467might befall to man,

17.201Em would have loved, and kept, 1468and honoured thee,

17.202Yea, begged if wealth had failed 1469for thy relief.

1470Forgive me, sweet Em.

I do forgive thee with my heart,

17.2051472And will forget thee too, if case I can.

17.2061473But never speak to me, nor seem to know me.

Then farewell, Frost, 1475well fare a wench that will!

17.2081476Now, Elinor, I am thine own, my girl.

Mine, Manville? Thou never shalt be mine!

17.2101478I so detest thy villainy, 1479that whilst

17.211I live I will abhor thy company.

1480Is it come to this? Of late I had choice of twain

17.2131481On either side to have me to her husband,

17.2141482And now am utterly rejected of them both.

My lord,

17.216This gentleman, when time was 1484stood something

17.217In our light, 1485and now I think it not amiss

17.2181486To laugh at him that some time scorned at us.

Content, my lord, invent the form.

Content, my lord, invent the form. Then thus:—

I see that women are not general evils.

17.2211490Blanche is fair; methinks I see in her

17.2221491A modest countenance, a heavenly blush.

17.2231492Sueno, receive a reconcilèd foe,

17.2241493Not as thy friend, but as thy son-in-law,

17.2251494If so that thou be thus content.

1495I joy to see your grace so tractable.

17.2271496Here, take my daughter Blanche,

17.2281497And after my decease, the Denmark crown.

[To Manville] Now, sir, how stands the case with you?

I partly am persuaded, as your grace is,

17.2311500My lord, he is best at ease that meddleth least.

Sir, may a man be so bold 1502as to crave

17.233A word with you?

A word with you? Yea, two or three. What are they?

I say, this maid will have thee to her husband.

1505And I say this: and thereof will I lay

17.236An hundred pound.

And I say this: whereon I will lay as much.

And I say neither: what say you to that?

If that be true, then are we both deceived.

Why, it is true, and you are both deceived.

1510In mine eyes, this is the properʼst wench.

17.2421511Might I advise thee, take her unto thy wife.

It seems to me she hath refusèd him.

Why, thereʼs the spite.

If one refuse him, yet may he have the other.

1515He will ask but her good will, and all her friendsʼ.

Might I advise thee, let them both alone.

Yea, thatʼs the course, and thereon will I stand.

17.2491518Such idle love henceforth I will detest.

The fox will eat no grapes, and why?

1520I know full well, because they hang too high.

And may it be a millerʼs daughter by her birth?

17.2531522I cannot think but she is better born.

Sir Thomas Goddard hight this reverend man,

17.2551524Famed for his virtues and his good success,

17.2561525Whose fame hath been renownèd through the world.

Sir Thomas Goddard, welcome to thy prince,

17.2581527And fair Em, frolic with thy good father.

17.2591528As glad am I to find Sir Thomas Goddard

17.2601529As good Sir Edmund Trafford on the plains,

17.2611530He like a shepherd, and thou our country miller.

And longer let not Goddard live a day

17.2631532Than he in honour loves his sovereign.

But say, Sir Thomas, shall I give thy daugher?

Goddard and all that he hath 1535doth rest at the pleasure of your majesty.

And what says Em to lovely Valingford?

17.2671537It seemed he loved you well, 1538that for your sake

17.268Durst leave his king.

Em rests at the pleasure of your highness,

17.2701540And would I were a wife for his desert.

Then here, Lord Valingford, 1542receive fair Em.

17.2721543Here take her, make her thy espousèd wife.

17.2731544Then go we in, that preparation may be made

17.2741545To see these nuptials solemnly performed.

17.274.3FINIS