The Complete Apocryphal Works of William Shakespeare - All 17 Rare Plays in One Edition. William Shakespeare
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will give her to me,
Even as mine own and sovereign of my life;
Then shall I think my travels are well spent.
KING.
With all my heart, but this—
Segasto claims my promise made to fore,
That he should have her as his only wife,
Before my counsel when we came from war.
Segasto, may I crave thee let it pass,
And give Amadine as wife to Mucedorus?
SEGASTO.
With all my heart, were it far a greater thing,
And what I may to furnish up there rites
With pleasing sports and pastimes you shall see.
KING.
Thanks, good Segasto, I will think of this.
MUCEDORUS.
Thanks, good my Lord, & while I live
Account of me in what I can or may.
AMADINE.
And, good Segasto, these great courtesies
Shall not be forgot.
MOUSE. Why, hark you, master: bones, what have you done? What, given away the wench you made me take such pains for? you are wise indeed! mas, and I had known of that I would have had her my self! faither, master, now we may go to breakfast with a woodcoke pie.
SEGASTO.
Go, sir, you were best leave this knavery.
KING.
Come on, my Lords, let’s now to court,
Where we may finish up the joyfullest day
That ever hapt to a distressed King.
Were but thy Father, the Valencia Lord,
Present in view of this combining knot.
[A shout within. Enter a Messenger.]
What shout was that?
MESSENGER.
My Lord, the great Valencia King,
Newly arrived, entreats your presence.
MUCEDORUS.
My Father?
KING OF ARRAGON.
Prepared welcomes give him entertainment:
A happier Planet never reigned than that,
Which governs at this hour.
[Sound. Enter the King of Valencia, Anselmo, Rodrigo, Borachius, with others; the King runs and embraces his Son.]
KING OF VALENCIA.
Rise, honour of my age, food to my rest:
Condemn not mighty King of Aragon
My rude behaviour, so compelled by Nature,
That manners stood unknowledged.
KING OF ARRAGON.
What we have to recite would tedious prove
By declaration; therefore, in, and feast:
To morrow the performance shall explain,
What Words conceal; till then, Drums speak,
Bells ring,
Give plausive welcomes to our brother King.
[Sound Drums and Trumpets. Exeunt omnes.]
EPILOGUE.
[Enter Comedy and Envy.]
COMEDY.
How now, Envy? what, blushest thou all ready?
Peep forth, hide not thy head with shame,
But with a courage praise a woman’s deeds.
Thy threats were vain, thou couldst do me no hurt.
Although thou seemdst to cross me with despite,
I overwhelmed, and turned upside down thy block
And made thy self to stumble at the same.
ENVY.
Though stumbled, yet not overthrown.
Thou canst not draw my heart to mildness;
Yet must I needs confess thou hast done well,
And played thy part with mirth and pleasant glee:
Say all this, yet canst thou not conquer me;
Although this time thou hast got—yet not the conquest
neither—
A double revenge another time I’ll have.
COMEDY.
Envy, spit thy gall;
Plot, work, contrive; create new fallacies,
Teem from thy Womb each minute a black Traitor,
Whose blood and thoughts have twins conception:
Study to act deeds yet unchronicled,
Cast native Monsters in the molds of Men,
Case vicious Devils under sancted Rochets,
Unhasp the Wicket where all perjureds roost,
And swarm this Ball with treasons: do thy worst;
Thou canst not hellhound cross my star to night,
Nor blind that glory, where I wish delight.
ENVY.
I can, I will.
COMEDY.
Nefarious Hag, begin,
And let us tug, till one the mastery win.
ENVY.
Comedy, thou art a shallow Goose;
I’ll overthrow thee in thine own intent,
And make thy fall my Comic merriment.
COMEDY.
Thy policy wants gravity; thou art
Too weak. Speak, Fiend, as how?
ENVY.
Why, thus:
From my foul Study will I hoist a Wretch,
A lean and hungry Meager Cannibal,
Whose jaws swell to his eyes with chawing Malice:
And him I’ll make a Poet.
COMEDY.
What’s that to th’ purpose?
ENVY.
This scrambling Raven, with his needy Beard,
Will I whet on to write a Comedy,
Wherein shall be compos’d dark sentences,
Pleasing to factious brains:
And every other where place me a Jest,
Whose high abuse shall more torment than blows:
Then I my self (quicker than Lightning)
Will fly me to a puissant magistrate,
And weighting with a Trencher at his back,
In midst of jollity, rehearse those gauls,
(With some additions)
So lately vented in your Theater.
He, upon this, cannot but make complaint,
To your great danger, or at least restraint.
COMEDY.
Ha, ha, ha! I laugh to hear thy folly;
This is a trap for Boys, not Men, nor such,
Especially desertful in their doings,
Whose stay’d discretion