LACY

W HIGH looks my lord Like to a troubled sky, When heavens bright shine, is shadowed with a fog: A late we ran the deer and through the Lawndes Stripped with our nags the lofty frolic bucks, That scudded before the teisers Like the wind, Near was the Dear of merry Fressingfield, So lustily pulled down by jolly mates, Nor sharde the Farmers such fat venison, So frankly dealt this hundred years before: Nor have I seen my lord more frolic in the chase, And now change to a melancholy dump. I grant my lord the damsel is as fair, As simple Suffolks homely towns can yield: But in the court be quainter dams than she, Whose faces are enriched with honours taint, Whose beauties stand upon the stage of fame, And vaunt their trophies in the courts of love. I will my lord so execute this charge, As if that Lacy were in love with her. What wilt thou do with them Raphe? God send your honour your hearts desire. But lovely Peggy Semele is dead, And therefore Ph bus from his palace pries, And seeing such a sweet and seemly saint, Shows all his glories for to court your self. Gramarcies Peggy, look for me are long. Daphne the damsel, that caught Phaebus fast, And locked him in the brightness of her looks, Was not so beauteous in Appollos eyes, As is f re Margret to the Lincoln earl, Recant thee Lacy thou art put in trust, Edward thy sovereigns son hath chosen thee A secret friend to court her for himself: And darest thou wrong thy Prince with treachery. Lacy, love makes no acception of a friend, Nor deems it of a Prince, but as a man: Honour bids thee control him in his lust, His wooing is not for to wed the girl, But to entrap her and beguile the lass: Lacy thou love, then brook not such abuse, But wed her, and abide thy Princes frown: For better die, then see her live disgraced. Thus watchful are such men as live in love, Whose eyes brook broken slumbers for their sleep, I tell thee Peggy since last Harlston fair, My mind hath felt a heap of passion. Peggy, I pleaded first to get your grace for him, But when mine I S furuaid your beauteous looks Love Like a wag, straight dived into my heart, And there did shrine the Idea of your self: Pity me though I be a farmers son, And measure not my riches but my love. For what gentle friar tell the news. The earl of Lincoln, Friar thou art mad, It was some other, thou mistakest the man: The earl of Lincoln, why it cannot be. Then am I double prisoner to thy self, Peggy, I yield, but are these news iniest, Believe me lass, I am the Lincoln earl I not deny, but tired thus in rags I lived disguised to win fair Peggies love. I meant fair girl to make thee Lacies wife. Say, shall I make thee Countess ere I sleep. The Lincoln Countess, for it shall be so, I'll plighted the bans and seal it with a kiss. Friar content, Peggy how Like you this? Why speakest not Bungay, Friar to thy book. Truth all my Lord and thus I make reply, At Harlstone fair there courting for your grace, When as mine eye uruaid her curious shape, And drew the beauteous glory of her looks, To dive into the centre of my heart. Love taught me that your honour did but jest, That princes were in fancy but as men, How that the lovely maid of Fressingfield, Was fitter to be Lacies wedded with e, Than concubine unto the prince of Wales. Rather then live, and miss fair Margrets love, Prince Edward stop not at the fatal doom, But stab it home, end both my loves and life. I have deserved it, Edward act it well. If ought betides to lovely Margret, That wrongs or wrings her honour from content, Europes rich wealth nor England's monarchy, Should not allure Lacy to overlive, Then Edward short my life and end her loves. Nay Edward keep a love worth many friends. Humbly I take her of my sovereign, As if that Edward gave me England's right, And riched me with the Albion diadem. I'll hasten Peggy to make short return, But please your honour go unto the lodge, We shall have butter, cheese, and venison. And yesterday I brought for Margret, A lusty bottle of neat clarret wine, Thus can we feast and entertain your grace. I go my lord. Come on my wags were near the keepers lodge, Here have I oft walked in the watery Meads, And chatted with my lovely Margret. 'Tis the same. Why how now Margret, what a malcontent, A Nun, what holy father taught you this, To task your self to such a tedious life, As die a maid, it injury to me. To smother up such beauty in a cell. Whence Peggy comes this Metamorphosis, What shorn a Nun, and I have from the continued urt, Posted with coursers to convey thee hence, To Windsor, where our Marriage shall be kept, Thy wedding robes are in the tailors hands, Come Peggy leave these peremptory vows. Why then Margret will be shorn a Nun, A good motion, Peggy your answer must be short. Peggy thy Lord, thy love, thy husband, Trust me, by truth of knighthood, that the King Stays for to marry matchless Ellinour, Until I bring thee richly to the court, That one day may both marry her and thee, How sayest thou Keeper art thou glad of this? What have you fit for breakfast? we have hied and posted all this night to Frisingfield. And not a bottle of wine? Come Sussex lets in, we shall have more, for she speaks least, to hold her promise sure. Faith lovely girl, I am of Beckles by, Your neighbour not above six miles from hence, A farmers son that never was so quain , But that he could do courtesy to such dams: But trust me Margret I am sent in charge, From him that reueld in your father's house, And filled his Lodge with cheer and venison, Tired in green, he sent you this rich purse: His token, that he helped you run your cheese, And in the milkhouse chatted with your self. Women are often weak in memory Not while I may have such quaint girls as you, Or else lord Lacy is unfit to live, May it please your highness give me leave to post To Fressingfield Ilefetch the bonny girl, And prove in true appearance at the court What I have vouched often with my tongue. Wonderfully wisely counseled Raphe. Keeper how farest thou holla man, what cheer, How does Peggy thy daughter and my love. It but to try sweet Peggies constancy, But will fair Margret leave her love and Lord?