MARIAN

What Much? What Iinny? Much? I say. I pray thee see, the fueller Suffer the cook to want no wood. Good Lord, where is this idle girl? Why Iinny? Within. I come forsooth. I pray thee bring the flowers forth. Dispatch good Much. What Jin I say? Indeed, indeed, you do me wrong, To let me cry, and call so long. You are not well I promise you, Your foresleeues are not pined (fie, fie) And all your hed-geere stands awry. Give me the flowers: Go in for shame, And quickly see you mend the same. Why are you two thus in the air? Your wounds are green, Good cuz have care. Most gracious Sovereign, welcome once again: Welcome to you, and all your princely train. Your hand maid. Robin will not then be long. The Friar indeed came running to his uncle, Who with sir Doncaster were here with me, And altogether went for such a drink. Never to look? What will it still be night? If thou look never, day can never be. What ails my Robin? Wherefore dost thou faint? How the Wolf howls! Fly Like a tender Rid Into thy shepherds bosom. Shield me love. Canst thou not Robin? Where shall I be hid? Oh God, these Ravens will seize upon thy Dove. Sleep in my lap, and I will sing to thee. Oh let me look, for ever in thy eyes, And lay my warm breath to thy bloodless lips, If my sighed can restrain death's tyrannies, Or keep lives breath within thy bosom locked. Oh must my hands with envious death conspire, To shut the morning gates of my lives light? Good father pardon me, You saw I sat the supper and the banquet, You know I cannot dance, discourse I shun: By reason that my wit, but small before, Comes far behind the ripe wits of our age. He's never Like to speed well, all his life, That by attorney sues to win a wife: But grant you are, whom you seem nothing Like, Young Wigmore, the heir to this noble Lord: He for his son hath yet sent us never a word. Either forbear, I pray ye, for a while. Welcome Lord Richmond. I thought it was a lightning before death: Too sudden to be certain: good pleasure stay. Wilt thou not wanton? churl then go thy way. I'll leave it. I will do what you will: led, led your dance. I my Liege, I: Oh! that temptatious tongue Had no where to be placed but in your head. Gods blessed mercy, will you still be mad, And wrong a noble virgin with vile speech? Oxford, I come in hope of thy defence. I am not she, you see I am not she: I am not ravished yet, as Helen was, I know not what will come of Johns desire, That rages Like the sea, that burns Like fire. No, no: this fire of lust would be soon laid, If once he knew me sworn a holy maid. Kind Hubert, many prayers, for this good deed, Shall on my beads be daily numbered. Oh go not yet, my grieved hearts comforter, I am as valiant to resist desire, As ever thou Wertenberg worthy in the field. John may attempt but if Matilda yield, Oh then. But no veil from my conscience shadows me. Do you intend thus lewdly as you speak? Some holy water, help me blessed Nuns. Two damned spirits, in religious weeds, Attempt to tempt my spotless chastity: And a third devil gaping for my soul, With horrid starings, ghastly frighteth me. In his name that did suffer for my sin, And by this blessed sign, I conjure you: Depart fowl f ends, return from whence ye came: Avoid ye fiends, and cease to trouble me. Oh God, in this the king is merciful. My deer loved Huntington by poison died. Good fellow, tell the king I thank his Grace, And do forgive his causeless cruel j. I do forgive thee to; but do advise Thou leave this bloody course, and seek to save Thy soul immortal, closed in thy breast: Be brief I pray thee: now to King Johns health A full carouse and God remember not The curse he gave himself at Robins death, Wishing by poison he might end his life, If ever he solicited my love. Farewell Goodfellow, now thy medicine works, And with the labour, I am for it to rest. My cousin said, he look't Like Ganymede: But you, but you. I, but I fear the match will fallen out ill, Because he says his son is nam Will. I must believe my father, and 'tis you, That if I ought misdid, reproved me still, And chiding said, you're wedded to your will, Your friends attorney might have gone his way, With as great credit, as did that Orator, Which handling and Oration, some three hours, Ill for the matter, worse than bade for phrase: Having said Dixi; looked, and found not one, To praise or dispraise his Oration: For, wearied with his talk, they all were gone. Good my Lord leave; or I will leave the place. Will the Queen keep me from the lustful king? Then will I yield. I come. Do, do. what you will. Be comforted great Queen: forget my wrongs. It was my fortune and no fault of yours. Ungentle grooms first took and soar me thus: From whom old Oxford, chastising their wrong, Mest kindly brought me to this gentle Queen: Who laid her soft hand on my bleeding cheeks, Gave kisses to my lips, wept for my woe: And was devising how to send me back, Even when your last alarm frighted us: And by her kindness, fell into your hands. They say thou tookest some pity of a child, The king appointing thee to sear his eyes. Men do report thee to be joust of word, And a deer lover of my Lord the king. If thou didst that, if thou be one of these: Pity Matilda, prostrate at thy feet. By letting me escape to Dunmow Abbey, Where I will end my life a votary. Farewell deer father. No: Gods Grace, holy monk. No, I thank God. Even all I may. Madam, the heavy burden of the world Hath long oppressed me. What burden bearing? whereto tends this talk? With me, with me? How can he come but one hath eyes to see? But they will rise, and, by my blushing read, Quickly give guess of my lost maidenhead. Are you not fiends, but mortal bodies then? Oh where shall cham city have true defence, When Churchmen lay this siege to innocence? Where shall a maid have certain sanctuary, When Lady Lust rules all the Nunnery? Now fie upon ye both, false seeming Saints, In carnate devils, devilish hypocrites. A cowled Monk, and aged veiled Nun, Become base Panders! and with lustful speech, Assay the chased ears of true maidenhead! Now fie upon this age, would I were dead. Why dost thou stay? And thou art welcome to his humble maid. I thought thee to be grim and fierce at first: But now thou hast asweete aspect, mild looks. Art thou not come to kill me from the king? And thou art welcome, even the welcome st man, That ever came unto a woeful maid. Be brief goodfellow: I have in the world, No goods to give, no will at all to make: But Gods will and the kings on me be done. A little money kept to give in alms, I have about me? deathsman take it all? Thou art the last poor alms-man I shall see. Come, come, dispatch: what weapon will death wear, When he assails me: Is it knife, or sword: A strangling cord, or sudden flaming fire? The guile less fear not death. Farewell good fry ̄ worser I pray thee be no trouble in my end. Oh some good pitying man compassionate That wretched man, so woeful desperate: Save him for gods sake: he hath set me free, From much world's woe, much wrong, much misery. Whose here? my gr jous sovereign Isabel? I will take strength and kneel. Fair beau jous Queen, I give God thanks, I do not think on wrongs. Well, my good Lord of Oxford: pretty well: A little travel more, and I shall rest: For I am almost at my journeys end. Oh that my head were raised a little up: My drowsy head, whose im decaying lights, Assure me it is almost time to sleep. I thank your Hignesse, I have now some ease. Be witness, I beseeth your Majesty, That I forgive the King, with all my heart: With all the little of my living heart, That gives me leave to say, I can forgive: And I beseech high heaven he long may live A happy King, a king beloou'd and feared Oxford, for gods sake, to my father write The latest commendations of his child: And say, Matilda kept his Honours charge, Dying a spotless maiden undefiled. Bid him be glad, for I am gone to joy: I that did turn his weal to bitter woe. The king and he will quickly now grow friends, And by their friendship much content will grow, Sink earth to earth, fade flower, ordained to fade: But pass forth soul unto the shrine of peace, Beg there atonement may be quickly made. Fair Queen, kind Oxford, all good you attend: Fly forth my soul, heavens king be there thy friend. Would I were from this woeful world of war: Sure I will escape, and to some Nunry go. By prayer, by fasting, by considering The shame of ill, and meed of doing well. Amen, amen father, adieu, adieu: Grief dwells with me, sweet comfort follow you. Ill good: he means my fame to violate. Oh God forefend he should be thought upon.