SCENE III.--FRIAR BACON'S _Cell_.

_Enter, to_ FRIAR BACON _in his cell,_ FRIAR BUNGAY.

_Bun._ What means the friar that frolick'd it of late, To sit as melancholy in his cell, As if he had neither lost nor won to-day?

_Bacon._ Ah, Bungay, my Brazen Head is spoil'd, My glory gone, my seven years' study lost! The fame of Bacon, bruited through the world, Shall end and perish with this deep disgrace.

_Bun._ Bacon hath built foundation of his fame So surely on the wings of true report, With acting strange and uncouth miracles, As this cannot infringe what he deserves.

_Bacon._ Bungay, sit down, for by prospective skill I find this day shall fall out ominous: Some deadly act shall 'tide me ere I sleep: But what and wherein little can I guess, My mind is heavy, whatso'er shall hap. [_Knocking within._ Who's that knocks?

_Bun._ Two scholars that desire to speak with you.

_Bacon._ Bid them come in.--

_Enter two_ Scholars.

Now, my youths, what would you have?

_First Schol._ Sir, we are Suffolkmen and neighbouring friends: Our fathers in their countries lusty squires; Their lands adjoin: in Cratfield mine doth dwell, And his in Laxfield. We are college-mates, Sworn brothers, as our fathers live as friends.

_Bacon._ To what end is all this?

_Second Schol._ Hearing your worship kept within your cell A glass prospective, wherein men might see Whatso their thoughts or hearts' desire could wish, We come to know how that our fathers fare.

_Bacon._ My glass is free for every honest man. Sit down, and you shall see ere long, How or in what state your friendly fathers live. Meanwhile, tell me your names.

_First Schol._ Mine Lambert.

_Second Schol._ And mine Serlsby.

_Bacon._ Bungay, I smell there will be a tragedy.

_Enter_ LAMBERT _and_ SERLSBY, _with rapiers and daggers_.[228]

_Lam._ Serlsby, thou hast kept thine hour like a man: Thou'rt worthy of the title of a squire, That durst, for proof of thy affection And for thy mistress' favour, prize[229] thy blood. Thou know'st what words did pass at Fressingfield, Such shameless braves as manhood cannot brook: Ay, for I scorn to bear such piercing taunts, Prepare thee, Serlsby; one of us will die.

_Serl._ Thou see'st I single [meet] thee [in] the field, And what I spake, I'll maintain with my sword: Stand on thy guard, I cannot scold it out. And if thou kill me, think I have a son, That lives in Oxford in the Broadgates-hall, Who will revenge his father's blood with blood.

_Lam._ And, Serlsby, I have there a lusty boy, That dares at weapon buckle with thy son, And lives in Broadgates too, as well as thine: But draw thy rapier, for we'll have a bout.

_Bacon._ Now, lusty younkers, look within the glass, And tell me if you can discern your sires.

_First Schol._ Serlsby, 'tis hard; thy father offers wrong, To combat with my father in the field.

_Second Schol._ Lambert, thou liest, my father's is th' abuse, And thou shalt find it, if my father harm.

_Bun._ How goes it, sirs?

_First Schol._ Our fathers are in combat hard by Fressingfield.

_Bacon._ Sit still, my friends, and see the event.

_Lam._ Why stand'st thou, Serlsby? doubt'st thou of thy life? A veney,[230] man! fair Margaret craves so much.

_Serl._ Then this for her.

_First Schol._ Ah, well thrust!

_Second Schol._ But mark the ward. [LAMBERT _and_ SERLSBY _fight and stab each other._

_Lam._ O, I am slain! [_Dies._

_Serl._ And I,--Lord have mercy on me! [_Dies._

_First Schol._ My father slain!--Serlsby, ward that.

_Second Schol._ And so is mine!--Lambert, I'll quite thee well. [_The two_ Scholars _stab each other and die._

_Bun._ O strange stratagem!

_Bacon._ See, friar, where the fathers[231] both lie dead!-- Bacon, thy magic doth effect this massacre: This glass prospective worketh many woes; And therefore seeing these brave lusty Brutes,[232] These friendly youths, did perish by thine art, End all thy magic and thine art at once. The poniard that did end their fatal lives, Shall break the cause efficient of their woes. So fade the glass, and end with it the shows That necromancy did infuse the crystal with. [_Breaks the glass._

_Bun._ What means learn'd Bacon thus to break his glass?

_Bacon._ I tell thee, Bungay, it repents me sore That ever Bacon meddled in this art. The hours I have spent in pyromantic spells, The fearful tossing in the latest night Of papers full of necromantic charms, Conjuring and adjuring devils and fiends, With stole and alb and strange pentageron; The wresting of the holy name of God, As Soter, Eloim, and Adonai, Alpha, Manoth, and Tetragrammaton, With praying to the five-fold powers of heaven, Are instances that Bacon must be damn'd, For using devils to countervail his God.-- Yet, Bacon, cheer thee, drown not in despair: Sins have their salves, repentance can do much: Think Mercy sits where Justice holds her seat, And from those wounds those bloody Jews did pierce, Which by thy magic oft did bleed afresh, From thence for thee the dew of mercy drops, To wash the wrath of high Jehovah's ire, And make thee as a new-born babe from sin.-- Bungay, I'll spend the remnant of my life In pure devotion, praying to my God That he would save what Bacon vainly lost. [_Exeunt._

ACT THE FIFTH