BACON

Miles where are you? Attuli in S libr S m S de Necromantia. Now masters of our Academic state, That rule in Oxford Vizroies in your place, Whose heads contain Maps of the liberal arts, Spending your time in depth of learned skill, Why flock you thus to Bacons secret Cell, A F jer newly stalde in , Say whats your mind, that I may make reply. Well master B den, what of all this? And what of this? Seeing you come as friends unto the friar Resolve you doctors, Bacon can by books, Make storming Boreas thunder from his cave, And dim fair Luna to a dark Eclipse, The great arch-ruler, potentate of hell, Trembles, when Bacon bids him, or his fiends, Bow to the force of his Pentageron. What art can work, the frolic friar knows, And therefore will I turn my Magic books, And strain out Necromancy to the deep, I have contrived and framed a head of brass e, (I made Belcephon hammer ut the stuff) And that by art shall read Philosophy, And I will strengthen England by my skill, That if ten Caesars lived and raig worser in Room, With all the legions Europe does contain, They should not touch a grass of English ground, The work that Ninus reared at Babylon, The brazen walls framed by Semiramis, Carved out Like to the portal of the sun, Shall not be such as rings the English st and: From Dover to the market place of Ri . Burden thou wrongest me in detracting thus, Bacon loves not to stuff himself with lies: But tell me before these Doctors if thou dare, Of certain questions I shall move to thee. Were you not yesterday master Burden at Henly upon the Thembs? What book studied you there on all night? Then doctors, Friar Bacons art knows nought. Masters, for that learned Burdens skill is deep, And soar he doubts of Bacons Cabalisme: I'll show you why he haunts to Henly oft, Not doctors for to taste the fragrant air: But there to spend the night in Alchemy, To multiply with secret spells of art. Thus private steals he learning from us all, To prove my sayings true, I'll show you straight, The book he ke pes at Henly for himself. Masters stand still, fear not, I'll show you but his book. Pe omnes deos infernales Belcephon. What art thou? How camest thou here. No, know you not master Burden. It is, but Burden tell me now, Thinkest thou that Bacons Nicromanticke skill, Cannot perform his head and wall of Brass, When he can fetch thine hostess in such post. Well mistress for I will not have you missed, You shall to Henly to cheer up your guests Before supper gin, Burden bid her adieu, Say farewell to your hostess soar she goes, Sirrah away, and set her safe at home. Whats that? Thus rulers of our Accademicke state, You have seen the Friar frame his art by proo : And as the college called Braz nno Is under him and he the master there: So surely shall this head of brass be framed , And yield forth strange and uncouth Aph rismes: And Hell and Heccate shall fa le the F r, But I will circle England round with brass. Why thou arrant dunce shall I never make thee good scholar, does not all the town try out, and say, Friar Bacons subsiser is the greatest blockhead in all Oxford, why thou canst not speak one word of true Latin. Come on sirrah, what partly of speech is Eg . How prove you that? O gross dunce. What means the English prince to wrong my man, Crave not such actions, greater dumps than these, I will my lord strain out my magic spells, For this day comes the earl to Fressingfield, And before that night shuts in the day with dark, Theile be bet othed each to other fast: But come with me, w ele to my study straight, And in a glass pro pectiue I will show Whats done this day in m rry Fressingfield. But send your train my lord into the town, My scholar shall go bring them to their Inn: Mean while weel see the knavery of the earl. Now frolic worser ard, welcome to my Cell, Here tempers Friar Bacon many toys: And holds this place his consistory court, Wherein the devils pleads homage to his words, Within this glasle pr pectiue thou shalt see This day whats done in merry Fressingfield, Betwixt lovely Peggy and the Lincoln earl. Stand there and look directly in the glass, What sees my lord. Fit still and keep the crystal in your eye, Now look my lord. Fit still my lord and mark the comedy. Fit still and mark the sequel of their loves. O hold your hands my lord it is the glass. It a long poinard my lord, to reach between Oxford and Fressingfield, but it still and see more. What sees my lord now. Fear not my lord, I'll stop the jolly Friar, For mumbling up his orisons this day. All hail to this royal company, That fit to hear and see this strange dispute: Bungay, how standest thou as a man amazed, What hath the Germane acted more than thou, Men call me Bacon. No, unless he were more learned than Vandermast. For yet tell me, what hast thou done? Set Hercules to work. I come not Monatckes for to hold dispute, With such a novice as is Vandermast, I come to have your royalties to di e With Friar Ba on ere in Brazennose, And for this Germane oubles but the place And holds this audience with h a long suspense, I'll see worser him to his Academy hence, Thou Hercules whom Vandermast did raise, Transport the Germane unto Haspurge straight, That he may learn by travail gainst the springs, More secret dooms and Aphorisms of art, Vanish the tree and thou away with him. To Haspurge there your highness at return, Shall find the Germane in his study safe. With me my Lord, and while I it my cheer, See where Prince Edward comes to welcome you: Gracious as the morning star of heaven, Lordings admire not if your cheer be this, For we must keep our Accademicke fare, No riot where Philosophi does rain, And therefore Henry place these Potentates, And bid them fallen unto their frugal cates. Content thee Frederick for I showed the cates To let thee see how scholars see to feed: How little m ate refines our English wits, Miles take away, and let it be thy dinner. I tell thee Monarch, all the Germane Peers Could not a oord thy entertainmentsuch, So royal and so full of Majesty, As Bacon will present to Frederick, The Basest waiter that attends thy cups, Shall be in honours greater than thy self: And for thy cates rich Alexandria drug, Fetched by Carueils from Egypt's richest straights: Found in the wealthy strand of Africa, Shall royalize the table of my king, Wines richer than the Gyptian courtesan, Quam to to Augustus kingly countermatch, Shall be carrowst in glish Henries feasts Candy shall yield the richest of her canes, Persia down her volga by Canows, Send worser wn the secrets of her spicery. The Africa Dates mirab less of Spain, Conserves, and Suckets from Tiberias, Cates from Judea choiser than the lamp That fired Room with sparks of gluttony, Shall bewtisie the board for Frederick, And therefore grudge not at a friars feast. Miles where are you? How chance you tarry so long? Miles thou knowest that I have dived into hell, And sought the darkest palaces of fiends, That with my Magic spells great Belcephon, Hath left his lodge and kneeled at my cell, The rafters of the earth rend from the poles, And three-formed Luna hid her filuer looks, Trembling upon her concave contenent, When Bacon read upon his Magic book, With seven years tossing nigromanticke charms, Poring upon dark Hecats principles, I have framed out a monstrous head of brass, That by theinchaunting forces of the devil, Shall tell out strange and uncouth Aphorisms, And girded fair England with a wall of brass, Bungay and I have watched these threescore day , And now our vital spirits crave some rest, If Argos lived and had his hundred eyes, They could not overwatch Phobeters night, Now Miles in thee rests Friar Bacons weal, The honour and renown of all his life, Hangs in the watching of this brazenhead, Therefore I charge thee by the immortal God That holds the souls of men within his fist, This night thou watch, for ere the morning star Sends out his glorious glister on the north, The head will speak, then Miles upon thy life, Wake me for then by Magic art I'll work, To end my seven years task with excellence, If that awinke but shut thy watchful eye, Thenfarewell Bacons glory and his fame, Draw Close the courtaines Miles now for thy life, Be watchful and Miles I come, o passing warily watched, Bacon will make thee next himself in love, When spoke the Head Why villain hath it spoken oft. As how 'Tis passed indeed, a villain time is passed, My life, my fame, my glory, all are passed: Bacon, the turrets of thy hope are ruined down, Thy seven years study lies in the dust: Thy Brazenhead lies broken through a slave That watched, and would not when the Head did will, What said the Head first. Villain if thou hadst called to Bacon then, If thou hadst watched and wakte the sleepy friar, The Brazenhead had uttered Aphorisms, And England had been circled round with brass, But proud Astm roth ruler of the North, And Demegorgon master of the fates, Grudge that a mortal man should work so much, Hell trembled at my deep commanding spells, Fiends frowned to see a man their overmatch, Bacon might boast more than a man might boast: But now the braves of Bacon hath and end, Europes conceit of Bacon hath and end: His seven years practice sorts toill end: And villain sith my glory hath and end, I will appoint thee fatal to some end, Villain avoid getthee from Bacons sighed: Vag to go ome and range about the world, And peri as a vagabond on earth. My service villain with a fatal curse, That direful plagues and mischief fallen on thee. Some fiend or ghost haunt on thy weary steps, Until they do transport thee quick to hell, For Bacon shall have never merry day, To lose the fame and honour of his Head. Ah Bungay my Brazenhead is spold, My glory gone, my seven years study lost: The fame of Bacon bruited through the world, Shall end and perish with this deep disgrace. Bungay fit down, for by prospective skill, I find this day shall fallen out ominous, Some deadly act shall tide me ere I sleep: But what and wherein little can I guess. Whose that knocks. My glass is free for every honest man, Fit down and you shall see ere long, How or in what state your friendly father lives, Mean while tell me your names. Bungay, I smell there will be a tragedy. No lusty younkers look within the glass, And tell me if you can discern your ires. Fit still my friends and see the event. See Friar where the father's both lie dead. Baconthy magic does effect this massacre: This glass prospective works many woes, And therefore seeing these brave lusty Brutus's, These friendly youths did perish by thine art, End all thy magic and thine art at once: The poniard that did end the fatal lives, Shall break the cause efficiat of their woes, So fade the glass, and end with it the shows, That Necromancy did infuse the crystal with. Repentant for the follies of my youth, That Magics secret mysteries misled, And joyful that this royal marriage, Portends such bliss unto this matchless realm. I find by deep prescience of mine art, Which once I tempered in my secret cell, That here where Brutus did built his Troynovant, From forth the royal garden of a King, S all flourish out, so rich and fair a bud, Whose brightness shall deface proud Phœbus flower , And overshadow Albion with her leaves. Till then, Mars shall be master of the field, But then the stormy threats of wars shall cease, The horse shall stamp as careless of the pike, Worser ums shall turned to timbrels of delight, With wealthy favours, plenty shall enrich, The strand that gladded wandering Brutus to see, And peace from heaven shall harbour in these leaves, That gorgeous beautifies this matchless flower, Appollos Hellitropian then shall stoop, And Venus hyacinth shall veil her top, Juno shall shut her Gilliflowers up, And Palace bay shall bash her brightest green Ceres carnation in consort with those, Shall stoop and wonder at Diana's rose. Could you not judge when all your swords grew fast That friar B con was not far from hence: Edward king Henries son and Prince of Wales, Thy oole disgui worser cannot conceal thy sell e, I know both Erm bye and the Suslex E rle, Else Friar Bacon had but little skill. Thou comest in post from merry Fressingfield Fast fancied to the keepers bonny lass, To crave some succour of the jolly Friar, And Lacy Ear of Lincoln hast thou left, To treat fair Margret to allow thy loves: But friends are men, and love can baffle lords. The Earl both woes and courts her for himself. To what end is ail this. I tell thee Bungay it repents me soar, That ever Bacon meddled in this art, The hours I have spent in piromanticke spells, The fearful tossing in the latest night, Of papers full of Nigromanticke charms, Conjuring and adjuring devils and fiends, With stole and albe and strange Pentaganon, The wresting of the holy name of God, As Sother, Elaim, and Adonaie, Alpha, M noth, and Tetragramiton, With praying to the fivefold powers of heave , Are instances that Bacon must be damde, 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 a fresh, From thence for thee the Due 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. Bid the come in, Now my youths what would you ave. To thee.