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Sith of the body of our late soveraigne lorde No ruler restes within the regall seate : Remaines no moe, since the yong kinges be slaine, | The heire to whom the scepter longes unknowen; And of the title of discended crowne,

That to eche force of forreine princes power, Uncertainly the diverse mindes do thinke Whom vauntage of your wretched state may move, Even of the learned sort, and more uncertainly By sodeine armes to gaine so riche a realme, Will parciall fancie and affection deeme : And to the proud and gredie minde at home, But most uncertainly will climbing pride Whom blinded lust to reigne leades to aspire, And hope of reigne withdraw to sundry partes Loe Brittaine realme is left an open pray, The doubtfull right und hopefull lust to reigne : A present spoyle by conquest to ensue. When once this noble service is atchieved, Who seeth not now, how many rising mindes For Brittaine land, the mother of ye all, Do feede their thoughts, with hope to reach When once ye have with armed force represt,

realme? The proude attemptes of this Albanian prince, And who will not by force attempt to winne, That threatens thraldome to your native land, So great a gaine that hope perswades to have? When ye shall vanquishers returne from field, A simple colour shall for title serve, And find the princely state an open pray,

Who winnes the royall crowne will want no right, To greedie lust and to usurping power; Nor such as shall display by long discent, Then, then, my lordes, if ever kindly care A lineall race to prove him lawful king. Of auncient honour of your auncesters,

In the meane while these civil armes shall rage, Of present wealth and noblesse of your stockes, And thus a thousand mischiefes shall unfolde, Yea of the lives and safetie yet to come

And farre and neare spread thee, Brittaine land, Of your deare wives, your childreri

, and yourselves, All right and lawe shall cease, and he that had Might move your noble hartes with gentle ruth, Nothing to-day, to-morrowe shall enjoye Then, then have pitie on the torne estate, Great heapes of golde, and he that flowed in wealth, Then helpe to salve the wel neare hopelesse sore: Loe, he shall be bereft of life and all; Which ye shall do, if ye yourselves withholde And happiest he that then possesseth least. The slaying knife from your owne mother's throate, The wives shall suffer rape, the maides defloured, Her shall you save, and you and yours in her, And children fatherlesse shall weepe and waile : If ye shall all with one assent forheare

With fire and sworde thy native folke shall perishe, Orice to lay hand, or take unto yourselves, One kinsman shall bereave an others life, The crowne by colour of pretended right; The father shall unwitting slay the sonne, Or by what other meanes so ever it be,

The sonne shall slay the sire and know it not; Till first by common counsell of you

Women and maides, the cruel souldiers sword In parliament, the regall diademe

Shall perse to death, and sillie children loe, Be set in certaine place of governaunce,

That playing 46 in the streetes and fieldes are found, In which your parliament and in your choise, By violent hand shall close their latter day. Preferre the right, my lordes, without 45 respect Whom shall the fierce and bloudy souldier Of strength or frendes, or whatsoever cause Reserve to life? whom shall he spare from death? That nay set forward any others part,

Even thou, O wretched mother, halfe alive, For right will last, and wrong can not endure. Thou shalt beholde thy deare and only childe Right meane I his or hers, upon whose name Slaine with the sworde, while he yet suckes thy The people rest, by meane of native line,

brest. Or by the vertue of some former lawe,

L'oe, giltlesse bloud shall thus eche where be shed; Already made their title to advaunce :

Thus shall the wasted soyle yelde forth no fruite, Such one, my lordes, let be your chosen king, But dearth and famine shall possesse the land. Such one so borne within your native land, The townes shall be consumed, and burnt with fire; Such one preferre, and in no wise admitte, The peopled cities shall waxe desolate, The heavie yoke of forreine governance : And thou, O Brittaine, whilone in renowne, Let forreine titles yield to publike wealth, Whilome in wealth and fame shalt thus be torne. And with that hart wherewith ye now prepare, Dismembred thus, and thus be rent in twaine, Thus to withstand the proude invading foe, Thus wasted and defaced, spoyled and destoyed, With that same hart, my lordes, keepe out also These be the fruites your civill warres will bring. Unnaturall thraldome of strangers reigne, Hereto it commes when kinges will not consent Ne suffer you against the rules of kinde, To grave advise, but follow wilfull will : Your mother land to serve a forreine prince. This is the end, when in fonde princes hartes

Eub. Loe here the end of Brutus royall line, Flattery prevailes, and sage rede hath no place : And loe the entry to the wofull wracke, These are the plages when murder is the meane, And utter ruine of this noble realme.

To make new heires unto the royall crowne. The royall king, and eke his sonnes are slaine, Thus wreke the Gods when that the mother's wrath

all

45 Without--with, edit. 1570.

46 Playing--play. edit. 1570.

Nought but the bloud of her own childe may swage; / When will they once with yelding hartes agree?
These mischiefes spring, when rehells will arise, Or in the while how shall the realme be used ?

To worke revenge, and judge their prince's fact, No, no: then parliament should have bene holden,
This, this ensues when noble mien do faile And certaine heires appointed to the crowne
In loyall trouth, and subjectes will be kinges. To staye the title on established right,
And this doth growe, when loe unto the prince, And in the people plant obedience,
Whome death or sodeine happe of life bereaves, While yet the prince did live, whose name and
No certaine heire remaines, such certain heire,

power As not all onely is the rightfull heire,

By lawfull sommons and authoritie, But to the realme is so made knowen to be, Might make a parliament to be of force, And trouth therby vested in subjectes hartes, And might have set the state in quiet stay: To owe fayth there, where right is knowen to rest. But now, 0 happie man, whom speedie death Alas, in parliament what hope can be,

Deprives of life, ne is enforced to see When is of parliament no hope at all,

These hugie mischiefes and these miseries, Which though it be assembled by consent, These civill warres, these murders, and these Yet is not likely with consent to end :

wronges. While eche one for himselfe, or for his frend, Of justice yet must God in fine restore, Against his foe, shall travaile what he may, This noble crowne unto the lawfull heire : While now the state left open to the man, For right will alwayes live, and rise at length, That shall with greatest force invade the same, But wrong can never take deepe roote to last. Shall fill ambicious mindes with gaping hope;

EDITIONS.

(1.) “ The Tragedie of Gorboduc; whereof three Actes were written by Thomas Nortone, and the two laste by Thomas Sackvyle. Settforthe as the same was shewed before the Queenes most excellent Majestie, in her highnes court of Whitehall, the 18 Jan. 1561. By the Gentlemen of Thynner Temple, in London, Sept. 22, 4to.” Printed for William Griffith.-See Ames's Typographical Antiquities, p. 316.

This Edition I have not seen. It appears to be the first spurious one complained of by the authors.

(2.) “ The Tragedie of Ferrex and Porrex. Setforth without addition or alteration ; but altogether as the same was shewed on stage before the Queenes Majestie about nine yeares past, viz. the xvïï day of Januarie, 1561, by the Gentlemen of the Inner Temple. Seen and allowed, &c. Imprinted at London by John Daye, dwelling over Aldersgate. B. L. 8vo."

In the Bodleian Library, and in the possession of Thomas Pearson, Esq.

(3.) “ The Tragedie of Gorboduc; whereof three Actes were written by Thomas Norton, and the two last by Thomas Sackvyle. Setforth as the same was shewed before the Queenes most excellent Majesty, in her highnes court of Whitehall, by the Gentlemen of the Inner Temple. At London, priated by Edward Allde for John Perrin, and are to be sold in Paule's Churchyard, at the signe of the Angell

. B. L. 4to, 1590.” In the collection of Thomas Pearson, Esq. and also in that of Mr Garrick. In the last-mentioned copy is a discourse, entitled, The Serpent of Devision.

THE

RETURNE FROM PERNASSUS;

OR,

THE SCOURGE OF SIMONY.

Publiquely acted by the Students in Saint John's Colledge, in Cambridge.

The Return from Parnassus, or the Scourge of Şimony, was publicly acted, as the title-page bears, by the Students of St John's College, Cambridge. It is a most extravagant, but very curious per formance. Hawkins, in his Prefuce to the Origin of the English Drama, says, it is perhaps the most singular composition in the English language. The admirers of Shakespeare will be interested by the mention made of him in the scene where Kempe and Burbage, his fellow actors, discourse of his quarrel with Ben Jonson. It would seem, that Shakespeare had espoused the cause of Decker, in the dispute between him and Jonson ; though we may look in vain for the pill" given to the latter by the Bard of Avon.

THE PROLOGUE.

it.

BoY, STAGE-KEEPER, Momus, DEFENSOR. Mo. Gentlemen, you that can play at noddy,

or rather play upon noddies: you that can set up Boy. Spectators, we will act a comedy(ron plus.) a jeast, at primero insteed of a rest, laugh at the

Stage-K. A pox on't, this booke hath it not in prologue that was taken away in a voyder. it, you would be whipt, thou raskall: thou must Defen. What we present I must needs conbe sitting up all night at cards, when thou should fesse is but slubbered'invention : if your wisdome be conning your part.

obscure the circumstance, your kindnesse will Boy. It's all long on you, I could not get my pardon the substance. part a night or two before, that I might sleepe on Mo. What is presented here, is an old musty

showe, that hath laine this twelfe-moneth in the [Stage-keeper carrieth the Boy away under bottome of a coale-house amongst broomes and

old showes, an invension that we are ashamed os, Mo. It's even wel doone, here is such a sturre and therefore we have promised the copies to the about a scurvie English show.

chandlers to wrappe his candles in. Defen. Scurvie in thy face, thou scurvie Jack, Defen. It's but a Christenmas toy, and may it if this company were not, you paultry crittick please your curtisies to let it passe. gentleman, you that knowe what it is to play at Mom. It's a Christmas toy indeede, as good a primero, or passage. You that have beene, stu- conceite as guaging hotcockles, or blinde-man dent at post and payre, saint and Loadam. You buffe. that have spent all your quarters revenetves in Defen. Some humors you shall see aymed at, riding post one night in Chrismas, beare with the if noi well resembled. weake memory of a gamster.

Mom. Humors, indeede; is it not a pretty hu

his arme.

mor to stand hamering upon two individuum No more of this, I heard the spectators aske for vagum, 2 schollers some whole yeare. These

a blanke verse. same Phil. and Studio have beene followed with a whip and a verse, like a couple of vagabonds, What we shew, is but a Christmas jest, through England and Italy. The pilgrimage to Conceive of this, and guesse of all the rest: Pernassus, and the returne from Pernassus, have Full like a schollers haplesse fortunes pen'd, stoode the honest stage-keepers in many a crownes Whose former griefes seldome have happy end. expence; for linckes and vizardes purchased a Frame aswell, we might with easy straine, sophister a knock, which a clubbe hindered the With far more prayse, and with as little paine, buttler's box, and emptied the colledge barrells; Storges of love, where forne the wondring bench, and now unlesse you know the subject well, you The lisping gallant might enjoy his wench; may returne home as wise as you came, for this Or make some sire acknowledge his lost sonne, last is the least parte of the returne from Per- Found when the weary act is almost done. nassus, that is both the first and the last time Nor unto this, nor unto that our scene is bent, that the authors wit wil turle upon the toe in this We onely shew a schollers discontent; vaine, and at this time the scene is not at Per- In scholers fortunes twise forlorne and dead, nassus, that is, lookes not good invention in the Twise hath our weary pen earst laboured. face.

Making them pilgrims in Pernassus hill, Defen. If the catastrophe please you not, im- Then penning their returne with ruder quill. pute it to the unpleasing fortunes of discontented Now we present unto each pittying eye, schollers:

The schollers progresse in their miserye. Mom. For catastrophe ther's never a tale in Refined wits your patience is our blisse, Sir John Mandevil, or Bevis of Southampton, but Too weake our scene, too great your judgment is. hath a better turning.

To you we seeke to shew a schollers state, Stage-K. What, you jeering asse, be gon with His scorned fortunes, his unpittyed fate. a pox.

To you ; for if you did not schollers blesse, Mom. You may doe better to busy your selfe Their case, poore case, were too too pittilesse. in providing beere, for the shewe will be pittifull You shade the muses under fostering, drie, pittifull drie.

[Erit. I and make them leave to sigh, and learne to sing,

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Pay home the world according to his merit. Ing. Come, I thinke, we shall have you put Thy purer soule could not endure to see, finger in the eye, and crie, O friends, no friends; Even smallest spots of base impurity;

say man, what new paper hobby horses, what ratNor could small faolts escape thy cleaner hands, the babies are come out in your late May morrice

Then foule faced vice was in his swadling bands. daunce?
Now like Anteus growne a monster is,

Jud. Sly my rimes as thick as flies in the sunne, A match for none but mighty Hercules.

I think there be never an alle house in England, Now can the world practise in playner guise, not any so base a May pole on a country greene, Both sinnes of old and new borne villanyes. but setts forth some poets petiernels, or demiStale sinncs are stole; now doth the world begin, launces, to the paper warres in Paules-churchTo take sole pleasure in a witty sinne.

yard. Unpleasant is the lawlesse sinne has bin,

Ing. And well too may the issue of a strong At midnight rest, when darknesse covers sin. hop, learne to hop all over England, when as betIt's clownish unbeseeming a young knight, ter wittes sit like lame coblers in their studies. Unlesse it dare outface the gloring light.

Such barmy heads wil alwaies be working, when Nor can it nought our gallauts prayses reape, us sad vinegar witts sit souring at the bottome of Unlesse it be done in staring cheape.

a barrell; plaine meteors, bred of the exhalation In a sinne-guilty coach not cloasely pent, of tobacco, and the vapors of a moyst pnt, that Jogging along the harder pavement.

soure up into the open ayre, when as sounder wit Did not feare check my repining sprit,

keepes belowe. Soone should my angry ghost a story write ; Jud. Considering the furyes of the times, I In which I would new fostred sinnes combine, could better endure to se those young can quafNot knowne earst by truth telling Aretine. fing hucksters shoot of their pellets, so they would

keepe them from these English flores-poeterum; SCENA II.

but now the world is come to that passe, that there

starts up every day an old goose that sits hatchINGENIOSO, JUDICIO.

ing up those eggs which have ben filcht from the Jud. What, Ingenioso, carrying a vinegar bottle nest of crowes and kestrells; here is a book, Inabout thee, like a great schole-boy, giving the genioso; why to condemne it to cleare the usually world a bloudy nose ?

Tiburne of all misliving papers, wcare too faire a Ing. Faith, Judicio, if I carry the vinegar bot-death for so foule an offender. tle, it's great reason I should confer it upon the Ing. What's the name of it, I pray thee, Jubald pated world; and again, if my kitchen want dicio? the utensilies of viands, it's great reason other Jud. Looke its here, Belvedere. men should have the sauce or vinegar; and for Ing. What a belwether in Paules church-yard, the bloudie nose, Judicio, I may chance indeed so cald, because it keeps a bleating, or because it give the world a bloudie nose, but it shall hardly hath the tinckling bel of so many poets about the give me a crakt crowne, though it gives other po- neck of it, what is the rest of the title? ets French crownes.

Jud. The garden of the Muses. Jud. I would wish thee, Ingenioso, to sheath Ing. What have we here, the poet garish gaythy pen, for thou canst not be successefull in the ly bedeket like fore horses of the parish? wbat fray, considering thy enemies have the advantage follows? of the ground.

Jud. Quem referent musa, vivet dum robora Ing. Or rather, Judicio, they have the grounds

tellus, with advantage, and the French crownes with a Dum cælum stellas, dum vehit amnis aquas. pox, and I would they had them with a plague Who blurres fayer paper, with foule bastard rimes, too; but hang them swadds, the basest corner in Shall live full many an age in latter times; my thoughts, is too gallant a roome to lodge who makes a ballet for an ale-house doore, them in; but say, Judicio, what newes in your Shall live in future times for ever more. presse, did you keepe any late corrections upon Then ( ) thy muse shall live so long, (ita.) any tardy pamphlets?

As drafty ballats to thy praise are song. Jud. Veterem jubes renovarc dolorem, Inge- But what's his devise, Pernassus, with the sunne nioso; what ere befalls thee, keepe thee from the and the lawrel? I wonder this owle dares looke trade of the corrector of the presse.

on the sunne, and I marvaill this gose flies not Ing. Mary so I will, I warrant thee, if poverty the lawrell; his devise might have been better a presse not too much, ile correct no presse, but foole going in to the market place to be seene, the presse of the people.

with this motto, scribimus indocti, or a poore bege Jud. Would it not grieve any good spirits to gar gleaning of eares in the end of harvest, with sit a whole moneth nitting out a lousy beggarly this word, sua cuiq. gloria. painphiet, and like a needy plisitian to stand Jud. Túrne over the leafe, Ingenioso, and thon whole yeares, tossing and tumbling, the filth that shalt see the poynes of this worthy gentleman; falleth from so many draughty inventious as day- sentences gathered out of all kind of poetts, rely swarme in our printing-louse?

ferred to certaine methodicall heades, profitable

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