Here entreth Kyng DIONISIUS, EUBULUS the Counsellor, and GRONNO the Hangman.

Dion. Gronno, doo my commaundement, strike of Damon's irons by and by,

Then bryng hym foorth, I myselfe will see him executed presently.

Gron. O mightie king, your commaundement wyll I doo speedely.

Dion: Eubulus, thou hast taiked in vaine, for sure he shall die.

Shall I suffer my lyfe to stand in peryll of everie spie?

Eub. That he conspired against your person, his accuser cannot say.

He only viewed your citie, and wyll you for that make him away?

Dion. What he would have done, the gesse is great, he minded mee to hurt, That came so slyly, to serch out the secret estate of my courte :

Shall I styll lye in feare? no, no; I wyll cut off such impes betime,

Least that to my farther daunger too hie they clime. Eub. Yet have the mightie goddes iminortall fame assigned

To all worldly princes, whiche in mercie be inclined. Dion. Let fame talke what she lyst, so I may lyve in safetie.

Eub. The onely meane to that, is, to use mercie.
Dion. A milde prince the people despiseth.
Eub. A cruell kinge the people hateth.
Dion. Let them hate me, so they feare mee.
Eub. That is not the way to lyve in safetie.
Dion. My sword and power shall purchase my
quietnesse.

Eub. That is sooner procured by mercy and gentlenesse.

Dion. Dionisius ought to be feared.
Eub. Better for him to be wel beloved.
Dion. Fortune maketh all thinges subject to
my power.

Eub. Beleeve her not, she is a light goddesse,
she can laugh and lowre.
Dion. A kinges prayse standeth in the reven-
ging of his enemie.

Eub. A greater prayse to winne him by cle

mencie.

Dion. To suffer the wicked to live, it is no mercie. Eub. To kill the innocent, it is great crueltie. Dion. Is Damon innocent, which so craftely underminded Carisophus,

To understand what he could of kinge Dionisius? Which survewed the haven, and eche bulwarcke in the citie,

Where battrie might be layde, what way best to approche? shall I

Suffer such a one to live that worketh mee such dispite ?

No, he shall die; then I am safe, a dead dogge cannot bite.

Eub. But yet, O mightie king, my dutie bindeth

mee

To geve such counsell, as with your honour may best agree:

The strongest pillers of princely dignitie, I finde is +2 justice with mercy and prudent liberalitie :

The one judgeth all thinges by upright equitie; The other rewardeth the worthy, flying eche extremitie.

As to spare those which offend maliciously,
It may be called no justice, but extreame injurie:
So upon suspicion of eche thinge not well proved,
To put to death presently whom envious flattery
accused,

It seemeth of tiranny; and upon what fickle
ground al tirants doo stand,
Athenes and Lacedemon can teache you, if it be
rightly scande.

And not only these citezens, but who curiously seekes

The whole histories of all the world, not only of Romaines and Greekes,

Shall well perceyve of all tirauntes the ruinous fall, Their state uncertaine, beloved of none, but hated of all.

Of mercifull princes, to sete out their passyng felycitie,

I neede not, ynough of that even these dayes do testifie;

They live devoid of feare, their sleapes are sound, they dreed no enemie,

They are feared and loved and why? they rule with justice and mercie,

Extendyng justice to such as wickedly from justice have swarved,

Mercie unto those where opinion simplenesse have mercie deserved.

Of lybertie nought I say, but only this thynge,
Lybertie upholdeth the state of a kynge;
Whose large bountifulnesse ought to fall to this
issue,

To rewarde none but such as deserve it for vertue. Whiche mercifull justice if you would folow, and provident liberalytie,

Neither the caterpillers of all courtes, et fruges consumere nati,

Parasites with wealth puft up, should not looke so hie;

Nor yet, for this simple fact, poore Damon shoulde die.

Dion. With payne mine eares have heard this vayne talke of mercie;

I tell thee, feare and terrour defendeth kynges onely;

Tyll he be gone whome I suspect, how shall I lyve quietlye,

day and night violently?

My dreadful dreames of him bereves my rest; on bed I lie

Shakyng and trembling, as one ready to yelde his throate to Damon's sword:

This quakyng dread, nothyng but Damon's bloud

can stay,

Better he die then I to be tormented with feare alway:

He shall die, though Eubulus consent not thereto, It is lawfull for kinges, as they list, all thynges to doo.

Here GRONNO bringeth in DAMON, and PITHIAS meeteth him by the way.

Pith. Oh, my Damon!

Dam. Oh, my Pithias, seying death must parte us, farewel for ever.

Pith. Oh, Damon, oh, my sweete friende! Snap. Away from the prysoner, what a prease have we here?

Gron. As you commanded, O mighty kinge, we have brought Damon.

Dion. Then go to, make ready, I will not stirre out of this place,

Till I see his head stroken off before my face. Gron. It shall be done, sir; because your eyes have made such a doo,

I wyl knock down this your lantern, and shut up your shop-window too.

Dam. O, mightie king, whereas no trueth my innocent lyfe can save,

But that so greedily you thirst 43 my giltlesse bloud to have,

Albeit, even in thought, I had not 44 ought against your person:

Yet now I plead not for lyfe, ne wyll I crave your pardon;

But seyng in Greece, my countrey, where well I am knowne,

I have worldly thinges fit for mine aliance, when

I am gone,

To dispose them or I die, if I might obtaine leasure, I would account it, O kyng, for a passyng great pleasure:

Not to prolonge my lyfe therby, for which I reken not this,

But to set my thynges in a stay, and surely I wyll

not misse,

brace,

To returne agayne at your time to appoynte, to yeeld my body here in this place. Graunt me, O kinge, such time to dispatch this injurie,

And I wyll not fayle when you appoint, even here iny lyfe to pay;

45

Dion. A pleasant request! as though I could trust him absent,

Whom in no wise I cannot trust beinge present; And yet though I sware the contrarie, doo that I require,

Geve mee a pledge for thy returne, and have thine own desire.

He is as nere now as he was before.

Dam. There is no surer nor greater pledge then the faith of a gentleman.

Dion. It was wont to be, but otherwise now the world doth stande;

Therefore doo as I say, els presently yeeld thy necke to the sword.

If I might with my honour, I would recall my

43 Thirst-thrust, !st edit.

45 Pay-yeelde speedily, 2d edit.

47 Fondness-folly. Thus Spenser, in his sonnets:

45 I pawne-to pawne, 2d edit.

Dion. Thou seemest to trust his wordes, that pawnest thy lyfe so franckly.

Pith. What Damon saith, Pithias beleveth assuredly.

Dion. Take heede, for life worldly men breake promise in many thinges.

Pith. Though worldly men doo so, it never happes amongst friendes.

Dion. What callest thou friendes, are they not men? is not this true?

Pith. Men they be, but such men as love one another onely for vertue.

Dion. For what vertue doste thou love this spie, this Damon ?

Pith. For that vertue which yet to you is unknowne.

Dion. Eubulus, what shall I doo? I would dispatch this Damon fayne,

But this foolish felow so chargeth mee, that I may not call back my worde againe. Eub. The reverent majestie of a king stands chieflie in keeping his promise.

What you have sayde this whole courte beareth witnesse.

Save your honour whatsoever you doo.

Dion. For saveing mine honour, I must forbeare my wyll. Go to,

Pithias, seeing thou tookest me at my word, take Damon to thee,

For two monthes he is thine, unbinde him, I set him free;

Which time once expired, yf he appeare not the

next day by noone,

Without further delay thou shalt lose thy lyfe, and that full soone.

Whether he die by the way, or lie sick in his bedd, If he retourne not then, thou shalt either hange or lose thy head.

Pith. For this, O mightie kinge, I yeld immortall thankes. O joyfull day! Dion. Gronno, take him to thee, bind him, see him kept in safetie.

If he escape, assure thyselfe for him thou shalt die. Eubulus, let us departe, to talke of this straunge thinge within.

Eub. I folowe.

[Exeunt. Gron. Damon, thou servest the gods well today, be thou of comfort.

As for you, sir, I thinke you will be hanged in sporte,

You heard what the kinge sayde? I must kepe you safely:

By cocke, so I wyll, you shall rather hange then I. Come on your way.

Pith. My Damon, farewel; the gods have thee in kepeing.

Dam. Oh, my Pithias, my pledge, farewel; I parte from thee weeping. But joyfull at my day appoynted I wyll retourne

agayne,

paine.

I could say more, but I wyll not, for that I am your weil-willer:

In faith, Carisophus, you are no courtier, but a caterpiller,

A sicophant, a parasite, a flatterer, and a knave; Whether I wyll or no, these names you must have: How well you deserve this, by your deedes it is knowne,

For that so unjustly thou hast accused poore Damon,

Whose wofull case the gods helpe alone. Caris. Sir, are you his servaunt, that you pitie his case so?

Steph. No bum troth, good man Grumbe, his

name is Stephano;

you talke of that is done, or by your siccphanticall envye,

You pricke forth Dionisius the sooner, that Damon may die;

I wyll so pay thee, that thy bones shall rattell in thy skinne.

name.

Remember what I have sayde, Onaphets is my [Exit. Caris. The sturdie knave is gone, the devyll him take,

He hath made my head, shoulders, armes, sides, and all to ake.

Thou horson villaine boy, why didst thou waite no better?

As he payde mee, so wyll I not die thy debter. Jacke. Mayster, why doo you fight with me? I am not your match, you see;

You durst not fight with him that is gone, and wyll you wreke your anger on mee? Caris. Thou villaine, by thee I have lost mine honour,

Beaten with a codgell like a slave, a vacaboun, or a lasie lubber,

And not geven one blow agayne; hast thou handled me well?

Jacke. Maister I handled you not, but who handled you very handsomly you can tell. Caris. Handsomly! thou crake rope. Jacke. Yea, sir, very handsomly: I holde you a grote,

He handled you so handsomly, that he left not one mote in your cote.

Caris. O I had firckt bim trimly, thou villaine, if thou hadst geven mee my sword. Jacke. It is better as it is, maister, beleve me at a worde;

If he had seene your weapon, he would have ben fierser,

And so perhaps beate you worse, I speake it with my harte,

You were never at the dealing of fence blowes, but you had foure away for your part.

It is but your lucke, you are man good enough. But the wealche Onaphets was a vengeance knave, and rough.

Maister, you were best goe home and rest in your bedde,

Meethinkes your cappe waxeth to little for your heade.

Caris. What! doth my head swell?

Jacke. Yea, as bigge as a codshed, and bleades

To live in courte not beloved, better be in hell: What crying out, what cursyng is there within of Carisophus,

Because he accused Damon to kinge Dionisius? Even now he came whining and crying into the courte for the nonce,

Shewinge that one Onaphets had broke his knave's

Sconce.

Which straunge name when they heard every man laught hartely,

And I by myselfe scan'd his name secretly;
For well I knewe it was some mad-heded chylde
That invented this name, that the log-headed
knave might be begilde:

In tossing it often with myselfe too and fro,
I found out that Onaphets backward, spelled
Stephano.

I smiled in my sleve, how to see by tournyng his name he drest him,

And how for Damon his master's sake, with a wodden cougell he blest him. None pittied the knave, no man nor woman, but al laught him to scorne.