CORDELLA

Oh, how I do abhor this flattery! I cannot paint my duty forth in words, I hope my deeds shall make report for me: But look what love the child does owe the father, The same to you I bear, my gracious Lord. The praise were great, spoke from another's mouth: But it should seem your neighbours dwell far off. What then is left for his third daughters dowry, Lovely Cordella, whom the world admires? Ah Pilgrim's, what avails to show the cause, When there's no means to find a remedy? To touch a soar, does aggravate the pain. Kind Palmer, which so much defir'st to hear The tragic tale of my unhappy youth: Know this in brief, I am the hapless daughter Of Leir, sometime King of Btittany. None, but himself hath dispossessed himself, And given all his Kingdom to the Kings Of Cornwall and of Cambria, with my sisters. He loved me not, & therfote gave me nothing, Only because I could not flatter him: And in this day of triumph to my sisters, Does Fortune triumph in my overthrow. O, do not mock with those in misery, Nor do not think, though fortune have the power, To spoil mine honour, and debase my state, That she hath any interest in my mind: For if the greatest Monarch on the earth, Should sue to me in this extremity, Except my heart could love, and heart could Like, Better then any that I ever saw, His great estate no more should move my mind, Then mountains move by blast of every wind. The Like to thee did never these eyes behold; O live to add new torments to my grief: Why didst thou thus entrap me unawares? Ah Palmer, my estate does not befit A kingly marriage, as the case now stands. Whilom when as I lived in honours height, A Prince perhaps might postulate my love: Now misery, dishonour and disgrace, Hath light on me, and quite reversed the case. Thy King will hold thee wise, if thou surcease The suit, whereas no dowry will ensue. Then be advised, Palmer, what to do: Cease for thy King, seek for thy self to woo. My mind is low enough to love a Palmer, Rather then any King upon the earth. Oh yes, I can, and happy if I might: I'll hold thy Palmer's staff within my hand, And think it is the Sceptre of a Queen. Sometime isle set thy Bonnet on my head, And think I wear a rich imperial Crown. Sometime isle help thee in thy holy prayers, And think I am with thee in Paradise. Thus isle mock fortune, as she mocks me, And never will my lovely choice repent: For having thee, I shall have all content. What ever you be, of high or low dissent, All's one to me, I do request but this: That as I am, you will accept of me, And I will have you whatloe're you be: Yet well I know, you come of royal raze, I see such sparks of honour in your face: Oh, grieve not you, my Lord, you have no cause: Let not my passion move your mind a whit: For I am bound by nature, to lament For his ill will, that life to me first lent. If so the stock be dried with disdain, Withered and sere the branch must needs remain. Where tongue cannot suf to thanks afford, The King of heaven remunerate my Lord. Are you sure, Mumford, she is a maid still? Nay, you'd have been so kind, as take her with you, Or else, were I as she, I would have been so loving, as idem stay behind you: Yet I must confess, you are a very proper man, And able to make a wench do more then she would do. I, and of the newest fashion. Not only for him, but also for his wench. Entreaty needs not, where you may continued ̄ maund, So you be pleased, I am right well content: Yet, as the Sea I much desire to see; So am I most unwilling to be seen. Howsoever you make one, isle make another. Nay, prithee do not, they do seem to be Men much o'regone with grief and misery. Let's stand aside, and harken what they say. What do I hear: this lamentable voice, Me thinks, ere now I oftentimes have herd. Alack, that ever I should live to see My noble father in this misery. Oh, but some meat, some meat: do you not see, How near they are to death for want of food? Here father, fit and eat, here, fit & drink: And would it were far better for your sakes. And may that draught be unto him, as was That which old Eson drank, which did renew His withered age, and made him young again. And may that meat be unto him, as was That which Elias ate, in strength whereof He walked forty days, and never fainted. Shall I coneale me longer from my father? Or shall I manifest my self to him? Ah, good old father, tell to me thy grief, I'll sorrow with thee, if not add relief. Do you not owe her still? what, is she dead? Your title's good still; for 'tis always known, A man may do as him list with his own. But have you but one daughter then in all? Oh, say not so, but rather see the end: They that are bade, may have the grace to mend: But how have they offended you so much? For Gods love tell it, and when you have done, I'll tell the reason why I weep so soon. No doubt she will, I dare be sworn she will. My self a father have a great way hence, Used me as ill as ever you did her; Yet, that his reverend age I once might see, Idem creep along, to meet him on my knee. Condemn not all, because of others crime: But look, deer father, look, behold and see Thy loving daughter speaks unto thee. Oh, if you wish I should enjoy my breath, Dear father rise, or I receive my death. I pardon you: the word beseems not me: But I do say so, for to ease your knee. You gave me life, you were the cause that I Am what I am, who else had never been. God, world and nature say I do you wrong, That can endure to see you kneel so long. But I will never rise from off my knee, Until I have your blessing, and your pardon Of all my faults committed any way, From my first birth unto this present day. Now is my heart at quiet, and does leap Within my breast, for joy of this good hap: And now (deer father) welcome to our Court, And welcome (kind Perillus ) unto me, Mirror of virtue and true honesty. He that with all kind love intreats his Queen, Will not be to her father unkind seen. Did never flatterer tell so false a tale. Dear father, do not so mistake my words, Nor my plain meaning be misconstrued; My tongue was never used to flattery. Dear father.— Now whither, poor forsaken, shall I go, When mine own sisters tryumphin my woe: But unto him which does protect the joust, In him will poor Cordella put her trust. These hands shall labour, for to get my spending; And so isle live until my days have ending. This is a day of joy unto my sisters, Wherein they both are married unto Kings; And I, by birth, as worthy as themselves, Am turned into the world, to seek my fortune. How may I blame the fickle Queen of Chance. That makes me a pattern of her power? Ah, poor weak maid, whose imbecility Is far unable to endure these brunts. O, father Leir, how dost thou wrong thy child, Who always was obedient to thy will! But why accuse I fortune and my father? No, no, it is the pleasure of my God: And I do willingly embrace the rod. These costly robes ill fitting my estate, I will exchange for other meaner habit. I will betake me to my thread and Needle, And earn my huing with my fingers ends. I will profess and vow a maidens life. Not that I miss my country or my kin, My old acquaintance or my ancient friends, Does any whit distemperate my mind, Knowing you, which are more deer to me, Then Country, kin, and all things else can be. Yet pardon me, my gracious Lord, in this: For what can stop the course of nature's power? As easy is it for fourfooted beasts, To stay themselves upon the liquid air, And mount aloft into the element, And ouerstrip the feathered Fowls in flight: As easy is it for the slimy Fish, To live and thrive without the help of water: As easy is it for the Blackamoor, To wash the tawny colour from his skin, Which all oppose against the course of nature, As I am able to forget my father. I fear, my sister will dissuade his mind; For she to me hath always been unkind. I, thats well put in. We that are feeble, and want use of Arms, Will pray to God, to Shield you from all harms. Fie shamelesle sister, so devoid of grace, To call our father liar to his face. I never in my life took more delight In any journey, then I do in this: Ic did me good, when as we happened to light Amongst the merry crew of country folk, To see what industry and pains they took, To win them commendations amongst their friends. Lord, how they labour to bestir themselves, And in their quirks to go beyond the Moon, And so take on them with such antic fits, That one would think they were beside their wits! Come away, Roger, with your basket. You brought me up, when as I was but young, And far unable for to help my self.