PERILLUS

Thus father's think their children to beguile, And oftentimes themselves do first repent, When heavenly powers do frustrate their intent. I will, my gracious Lord. O, how I grieve, to see my Lord thus found, To dote so much upon vain flattering words. Ah, if he but with good advice had weighed, The hidden tenure of her humble speech, Reason to rage should not have given place, Nor poor Cordella suffer such disgrace. I have been silent all this while, my Lord, To see if any worthier then my self, Would once have spoke in poor Cordellaes cause: But love or fear ties silence to their tongues. O, hear me speak for her, my gracious Lord, Whose deeds have not deserved this ruthless doom, As thus to disinherit her of all. Ah, who so blind, as they that will not see The near approach of their own misery? Poor Lady, I extremely pity her: And whilst I live, eke drop of my heart blood, Will I strain forth, to do her any good. The King hath dispossessed himself of all, Those to advance, which scarce will give him thanks: His youngest daughter he hath turned away, And no man knows what is become of her. He soiournes now in Cornwall with the eldest, Who flattered him, until she did obtain That at his hands, which now she does possesses And now she sees he hath no more to give, It grieves her heart to see her father live. O, whom should man trust in this wicked age, When children thus against their parents rage? But he, the mirror of mild patience, Puts up all wrongs, and never gives reply: Yet shames she not in most opprobrious sort, To call him fool and dotard to his face, And sets her Parasites of purpose oft, In scoffing wise to offer him disgrace. O iron age! Oh times! Oh monstrous, vild, When parents are contemned of the child! His pension she hath half restrained from him, And will, ever long, the other half, I fear: For she thinks nothing is bestowed in vain, But that which does her father's life maintain. Trust not alliance; but trust strangers rather, Since daughters prove disloyal to the father. Well, I will counsel him the best I can: Would I were able to redress his wrong. Yet what I can, unto my utmost power, He shall be sure of to the latest hour. Ah, do not so disconsolate your self, Nor Due your aged cheeks with wasting tears. One, who does be are as great a share of grief, As if it were my dearest father's case. What's God by flattery, does not long endure; And men in favour live not most secure. My conscience tells me, if I should forsake you, I were the hatefulst excrement on the earth: Which well do know, in course of former time, How good my Lord hath been to me and mine. I never did seek it; but by your good Grace, I still enjoyed my own with quietness, I had enough, my Lord, and having that, What should you needs to give me any more? Alas, my Lord, there were no reason, why You should have such a thought, to give it me. Where reason fails, let tears confirm my love, And speak how much your passion do me move. Ah, good my Lord, condemn not all for one: You have two daughters left, to whom I know You shall be welcome, if you please to go. No doubt she would, & practice ere't be long, By force of Arms for to redress your wrong. Rest on me, my Lord, and stay your self, The way seems tedious to your aged limbs. Ah, good my Lord, it ill befits, that I Should lean upon the person of a King. Cease, good my Lord, to aggravate my woes, With these kind words, which cuts my heart in two, To think your will should want the power to do. That honourable title will I give, Unto my Lord, so long as I do live. O, be of comfort; for I see the place Whereas your daughter keeps her residence. And lo, in happy time the Cambrian Prince Is here arrived, to gratify our coming. Then let me tell it, if you please, my Lord: 'Tis shame for them that were the cause thereof. My Lord, you are up to day before your hour, 'Tis news to you to be abroad sorathe. And so am I, but I impute the cause To rising sooner then we use to do. Sheele not belong, I warrant you, my Lords But say, a couple of these they call good fellows. Should step out of a hedge, and set upon us, We were in good case for to answer them. I fear, we scant should stand upon our legs. But how should we do to defend our selves? I'll fit and pray with you for company; Yet was I never so heavy in my life. I fear, we did mistake the place, my Lord. Fear not, my Lord, dreams are but fantasies, And slight imaginations of the brain. I pray, my Lord, what was the effect of it? I may go near to guess what it pretends. Deliver us, good Lord, from such as he. And it may be, are in some needs of money. Here, take mine too, & wish with all my heart, To do thee pleasure, it were twice as much. Mistrust not him, but try him when thou wilt: He is her father, therefore may do much. Am I awake, or is it but a dream? O joust Jehovah, whose almighty power Does govern all things in this spacious world, How canst thou suffer such outrageous acts To be committed without joust revenge? Oh viperous generation and accursed, To seek his blood, whose blood did make them first! I, who have born you company in life, Most willingly will bear a share in death. It skilleth not for me, my friend, a whit, Nor for a hundred such as thou and I. O, but beware, how thou dost lay thy hand Upon the high anointed of the Lords Oh, be advised ere thou dost begin: Dispatch me straight, but meddle not with him. My friend, if fear of the almighty power Have power to move thee, we have said enough: But if thy mind be moveable with gold, We have not presently to give it thee: Yet to thy self thou mayest do greater good, To keep thy hands still undefiled from blood: For do but well consider with thy self, When thou hast finished this outrageous act, What horror still will haunt thee for the deed: Think this again, that they which would incense Thee for to be the Butcher of their father, When it is done, for fear it should be known, Would make a means to rid thee from the world: O, then art thou for ever tied in chains Of everlasting torments to endure, Even in the hottest hold of grisly hell, Such pains, as never mortal tongue can tell. O, happy sighed. He means to save my Lord. The King of heaven continue this good mind. Ah, now I see thou hast some spark of grace. Farewell. If ever we together me, It shall go hard, but I will thee regreet. Courage, my Lord, the worst is overpassed; Let us give thanks to God, and hie us hence. It were not good to return from whence we came, Unto your daughter Ragan back again. Now let us go to France, unto Cordella, Your youngest daughter, doubtless she will succour you. No worldly gifts, but grace from God on hie, Does nourish virtue and true charity. Remember well what words Cordella spoke, What time you asked her, how she loved your Grace. See said, her love unto you was as much, As ought a child to bear unto her father. That makes not her love to be any less, If she do love you as a child should do: You have tried two, try one more for my sake, I'll never entreat you further trial make. Remember well the dream you had of late, And think what comfort it foretells to us. My honest friends, we are ashamed to show The great extremity of our present state, In that at this time we are brought so low, That we want money for to pay our passage. The truth is so, we met with some good fellows, A little before we came aboard your ship, Which stripped us quite of all the coin we had, And left us not a penny in our purses: Yet wanting money, we will use the mean, To see you satisfied to the uttermost. My own I willingly would change with thee, And think my self indebted to thy kindness: But would my friend might keep his garment still. My friend, isle give thee this new doublet, if thou wilt Restore his gown unto him back again. Be of good cheer, my Lord, I have a doublet, Will yield us money enough to serve our turns, Until we come unto your daughters Court: And then, I hope, we shall find friends enough. Fear not, my Lord, the perfect good indeed, Can never be corrupted by the bade: A new fresh vessel still retains the taste Of that which first is poured into the same: And therefore, though you name yourself the thorn, The weed, the gall, the henbane & the wormwood; Yet sheele continue in her former state, The honey, milk, Grape, Sugar, Methridate. Why, say the worst, the worst can be but death, And death is better then for to despair: Then hazard death, which may convert to life; Banish despair, which brings a thousand death's. Alack, my Lord, my heart does bleed, to think That you should be in such extremity. Ah, my deer Lord, how does my heart lament, To see you brought to this extremity! Oh, if you love me, as you do profess, Or ever thought well of me in my life, Feed on this flesh, whose veins are not so dry, But there is virtue left to comfort you, Oh, feed on this, if this will do you good, I'll smile for joy, to see you suck my blood. Lord, which didst help they servants at their needs, Or now or never send us help with speed. O comfort, comfort! yonder is a banquet, And men and women, my Lord: be of good cheer; For I see comfort coming very near. Oh my Lord, a banquet, and men and women! God save you, friends; & if this blessed banquet Affords any food or sustenance, Even for his sake that saved us all from death, Vouchsafe to save us from the gripe of famine. I'll give you thanks anon: my friend does faint, And needs present comfort. The blessed God of heaven hath thought upon us. What cheer, my Lord? how do you feel your self? Infayth, I know no how sufficiently; But the best mean that I can think on, is this: I'll offer them my doublet in requital; For we have nothing else to spare. Pardon, my Lord, I swear they shall have mine. My tongue does fail, to say what heart does think, I am so ravished with exceeding joy. Weel fast and pray, while you for us do fight, That victory may prosecute the right. Nay, peace thou monster, shame unto thy sex: Thou fiend in likeness of a humane creature. You are our debtor of more patience: We were more patient when we stayed for you, Within the thicket two long hours and more. There, where you sent your servant with your letters, Sealed with your hand, to send us both to heaven, Where, as I think, you never mean to come. Indeed you made us rise betimes, you know, Yet had a care we should sleep where you bade us stay, But never wake more till the latter day. Of us & ours, your gracious care, my Lord, Deserves and everlasting memory, To be enrolled in Chronicles of fame, By never-dying perpetuity: Yet to become so provident a Prince, Loose not the title of a loving father: Do not source love, wherefancy cannot dwell, Lest streams being stopped, above the banks do swell.