SCENE I.--_At Framlingham.

_Enter_ PRINCE EDWARD _malcontented, with_ LACY, WARREN, ERMSBY, _and_ RALPH SIMNELL.

_Lacy._ Why looks my lord like to a troubled sky, When heaven's bright shine is shadowed with a fog? Alate we ran the deer, and through the lawnds Stripp'd[173] with our nags the lofty frolic bucks That scudded 'fore the teasers[174] like the wind: Ne'er was the deer of merry Fressingfield So lustily pull'd down by jolly mates, Nor shar'd the farmers such fat venison, So frankly dealt, this hundred years before; Nor have I seen my lord more frolic in the chase, And now chang'd to a melancholy dump.

_War._ After the prince got to the keeper's lodge, And had been jocund in the house awhile, Tossing off ale and milk in country cans; Whether it was the country's sweet content, Or else the bonny damsel fill'd us drink, That seem'd so stately in her stammel[175] red, Or that a qualm did cross his stomach then, But straight he fell into his passions.

_Erms._ Sirrah Ralph, what say you to your master, Shall he thus all amort[176] live malcontent?

_Ralph._ Hearest thou, Ned?--Nay, look if he will speak to me!

_P. Edw._ What say'st thou to me, fool?

_Ralph._ I prithee, tell me, Ned, art thou in love with the Keeper's daughter?

_P. Edw._ How if I be, what then?

_Ralph._ Why then, sirrah, I'll teach thee how to deceive love.

_P. Edw._ How, Ralph?

_Ralph._ Marry, Sirrah Ned, thou shalt put on my cap and my coat and my dagger, and I will put on thy clothes and thy sword; and so thou shalt be my fool.

_P. Edw._ And what of this?

_Ralph._ Why, so thou shalt beguile Love; for Love is such a proud scab, that he will never meddle with fools nor children. Is not Ralph's counsel good, Ned?

_P. Edw._ Tell me, Ned Lacy, didst thou mark the maid, How lovely in her country weeds she look'd? A bonnier wench all Suffolk cannot yield:-- All Suffolk! nay, all England holds none such.

_Ralph._ Sirrah Will Ermsby, Ned is deceived.

_Erms._ Why, Ralph?

_Ralph._ He says all England hath no such, and I say, and I'll stand to it, there is one better in Warwickshire.

_War._ How provest thou that, Ralph?

_Ralph._ Why, is not the abbot a learned man, and hath read many books, and thinkest thou he hath not more learning than thou to choose a bonny wench? yes, I warrant thee, by his whole grammar.

_Erms._ A good reason, Ralph.

_P. Edw._ I tell thee, Lacy, that her sparkling eyes Do lighten forth sweet love's alluring fire; And in her tresses she doth fold the looks Of such as gaze upon her golden hair: Her bashful white, mix'd with the morning's red, Luna doth boast upon her lovely cheeks; Her front is beauty's table, where she paints The glories of her gorgeous excellence; Her teeth are shelves of precious margarites,[177] Richly enclos'd with ruddy coral cleeves.[178] Tush, Lacy, she is beauty's over-match, If thou survey'st her curious imagery.

_Lacy._ I grant, my lord, the damsel is as fair As simple Suffolk's homely towns can yield; But in the court be quainter[179] dames than she, Whose faces are enrich'd with honour's taint, Whose beauties stand upon the stage of fame, And vaunt their trophies in the courts of love.

_P. Edw._ Ah, Ned, but hadst thou watch'd her as myself, And seen the secret beauties of the maid, Their courtly coyness were but foolery.

_Erms._ Why, how watch'd you her, my lord?

_P. Edw._ Whenas she swept like Venus through the house,-- And in her shape fast folded up my thoughts,-- Into the milk-house went I with the maid, And there amongst the cream-bowls she did shine As Pallas 'mongst her princely huswifery: She turn'd her smock over her lily arms, And div'd them into milk to run her cheese; But whiter than the milk her crystal skin, Checkèd with lines of azure, made her blush,[180] That art or nature durst bring for compare. Ermsby, if thou hadst seen, as I did note it well, How beauty play'd the huswife, how this girl, Like Lucrece, laid her fingers to the work, Thou wouldst, with Tarquin, hazard Rome and all To win the lovely maid of Fressingfield.

_Ralph._ Sirrah Ned, wouldst fain have her?

_P. Edw._ Ay, Ralph.

_Ralph_ Why, Ned, I have laid the plot in my head; thou shalt have her already.

_P. Edw._ I'll give thee a new coat, an learn me that.

_Ralph._ Why, Sirrah Ned, we'll ride to Oxford to Friar Bacon: O, he is a brave scholar, sirrah; they say he is a brave necromancer, that he can make women of devils, and he can juggle cats into costermongers.

_P. Edw._ And how then, Ralph?

_Ralph._ Marry, Sirrah, thou shalt go to him: and because thy father Harry shall not miss thee, he shall turn me into thee; and I'll to the court, and I'll prince it out; and he shall make thee either a silken purse full of gold, or else a fine wrought smock.

_P. Edw._ But how shall I have the maid?

_Ralph._ Marry, sirrah, if thou be'st a silken purse full of gold, then on Sundays she'll hang thee by her side, and you must not say a word. Now, sir, when she comes into a great prease of people, for fear of the cutpurse, on a sudden she'll swap thee into her plackerd;[181] then, sirrah, being there, you may plead for yourself.

_Erms._ Excellent policy!

_P. Edw._ But how if I be a wrought smock?

_Ralph._ Then she'll put thee into her chest and lay thee into lavender, and upon some good day she'll put thee on; and at night when you go to bed, then being turned from a smock to a man, you may make up the match.

_Lacy._ Wonderfully wisely counselled, Ralph.

_P. Edw._ Ralph shall have a new coat.

_Ralph._ God thank you when I have it on my back, Ned.

_P. Edw._ Lacy, the fool hath laid a perfect plot; For why our country Margaret is so coy, And stands so much upon her honest points, That marriage or no market with the maid. Ermsby, it must be necromantic spells And charms of art that must enchain her love, Or else shall Edward never win the girl. Therefore, my wags, we'll horse us in the morn, And post to Oxford to this jolly friar: Bacon shall by his magic do this deed.

_War._ Content, my lord; and that's a speedy way To wean these headstrong puppies from the teat.

_P. Edw._ I am unknown, not taken for the prince; They only deem us frolic courtiers, That revel thus among our liege's game: Therefore I have devis'd a policy. Lacy, thou know'st next Friday is Saint James', And then the country flocks to Harleston fair: Then will the Keeper's daughter frolic there, And over-shine the troop of all the maids That come to see and to be seen that day. Haunt thee disguis'd among the country-swains, Feign thou'rt a farmer's son, not far from thence, Espy her loves, and who she liketh best; Cote[182] him, and court her to control the clown; Say that the courtier 'tirèd all in green, That help'd her handsomely to run her cheese, And fill'd her father's lodge with venison, Commends him, and sends fairings to herself. Buy something worthy of her parentage, Not worth her beauty; for, Lacy, then the fair Affords no jewel fitting for the maid: And when thou talk'st of me, note if she blush: O, then she loves; but if her cheeks wax pale, Disdain it is. Lacy, send how she fares, And spare no time nor cost to win her loves.

_Lacy._ I will, my lord, so execute this charge, As if that Lacy were in love with her.

_P. Edw._ Send letters speedily to Oxford of the news.

_Ralph._ And, Sirrah Lacy, buy me a thousand thousand million of fine bells.

_Lacy._ What wilt thou do with them, Ralph?

_Ralph._ Marry, every time that Ned sighs for the Keeper's daughter, I'll tie a bell about him: and so within three or four days I will send word to his father Harry, that his son, and my master Ned, is become Love's morris-dance.

_P. Edw._ Well, Lacy, look with care unto thy charge, And I will haste to Oxford to the friar, That he by art, and thou by secret gifts Mayst make me lord of merry Fressingfield.

_Lacy._ God send your honour your heart's desire. [_Exeunt._