PHALLAX

As you command, I will: give heedful ear. God a mercy Gripax. No harm is done, here is but blow for blue, Birds of a feather, best fly together, Then Like partners, about your market go, Marrows adieu, God sent you fair weather. Marry sir, welfare and office, what some ever it be, The very countenance, is great, though slender be the see, I thank my good Lord Promos now, I am and officer made, In sooth more by hap then desert, in secret be it said: No force for that, each shift for one, for Phallax will do so, Well fare a head can take his time nay watch for time I trow. I smile to think of my fell was; how some brave it, some weight, And think reward, there service joust, with offered shifts will bayght When they (poor souls) in troth do fall a mile upon account, For flattery and fervent pleasing, are means to make men mount: I speak on proof, Lord Promos, I have pleased many a day, Yet am I neither learned, true, nor honest any way. What skyls for that, by wit or wile, I have and office God, By force whereof every licence, warrant, patent, passport, Leace, fine, fee, et cetera, pass and repas, through Phallax hands, Disorored persons bribe me well, to escape from Justice bans, And wealthy churls for to promote, I now have set a work, Such hungry lads, as soon will smell, where statute breakers lurk, And if they come, within our Gripe, we mean to stripe them so, As (if they escape from open shame) their bags with us shall go. And trust me this, we officers, of this mild mould are wrought, Agree with us, and sure your shame by us shall not be sought: But soft a while, I see my Lord what makes him lower so I will intrude into his sighed, perhaps his grief to know. Say on my Lord, a happy man wear I: If any way, your wish I could supply: These words my Lord (whom ever have be joust) Now makes, me think, that you my truth mistrust. But cease suspect, my will with yours shall gree, What so (or against whom) your dealing be. Fear not my Lord, the old Proverb does say. Faint hearts does steal fair Ladies seld away. I thought as much, love did torment you so. But what is she that dare say Promos no? No my Lord, Amor omniam vincit. And Ovid say, Forma numen habet. And for to prove, loves service seems the wise, Set Sallomon and Sampson, before your eyes: For wit, and strength, who won the chiefest prize. And both live by the laws love did devise, Which proves in love, a certain godhead lies. And Gods rule yearly, by wisdom from the skies: Whose wills (think I) are wrought best by the wise. In deed divine, I think loves working is, From reasons use, in that my senses swerve, In pleasure pain, in pain I find a bliss, On woe I feed, in sighed of food I stearue: These strange effects, by love are lodged in Me, My thoughts are bound, yet I my self am free. Well my Good Lord, I axe (with pardon sought) Who she may be, that hath your thrauldome wrought? All the better for you the game does go. The proverb say, that kyt will unto kind, If it be true this comfort, then I find: Cassandra's flesh is as her brother's, frail, Then will she stoop, (in chief) when Lords assail. What love will not, necessity shall gain, Her brother's life, will make her glad and fain. My loving Lord, your servant means not so. But if you will, elsewhere in secret go: To work your will assist I hope to show. What means these knaves to scold. What call you his name? Fair Dame, hereto what do you say? My friends, what proof have you against this dame? Speak on sure ground, least that you reap the shame: The wrong is great, and craves great recompense. To touch her honest name, without offence. To swear against her is there any wight? I see she is then on suspicion stayed: Whose fawltes to search, upon my charge is laid, From charge of her I therefore will set you free, My self will search her faults if any be, A Gods name you may depart. God bwy Sir. Fair Lamia, since that we are alone, I plainly will discourse to you my mind, I think you not to be so chased a one, As that your life, this favour ought to find: No force, for that, since that you scot free go, Unpunished, whose life is judged ill: Yet think (through love) this grace the Judge does show, And love with love ought to be answered Still. Away with honesty your answer then in sooth, Fits me as jump as a pudding a Friars mouth, Then to be short, your rare beauty my heart hath wounded so, As (save your love, become my leach) I sure shall die with woe. Fair Lamia, trust me I feign not, betimes bestow some grace. It sufficeth me, that I may your secret friend remain. To escape such pain, wise men, these joys, without suspect Can ̄ measure, Furthermore, I have been (my Girl) a Lawyer to too lo ̄ g: If at a pinch, I cannot wrest the Law from right to wrong. To resolve you, you shall command my skill, Wherefore Like friends, lets common in good will, Willingly, and for that, haste calls me hence, My suit till then, shall remain in suspense: Farewell Client, to morrow look for me: Gramercy for thy pains, I was even. coming to her. It is honestly said, but now tell Me, What quality hast, that I may use thee? But hear me, canst thou heal a green wound well? Then thy best were to dwell, In some usual place or street, where, through frays, Thou mayest be set a work with wounds always. That thou shalt truly: But syrra, where dwells Lamia? That I will sure, if that my way be clear. My trusty friends about your business straight, With simple shows, your subtle meanings bait: Promote all faults, up into my office, Then turn me loose, the offenders to fleece. 'Tis more then strange to see Lord Promos plighted, He fryskes abought, as birds beware in his breech. Even now he seems (through hope) to taste delight, And straight (through fear) where he claws it does not ytch. He museth now, Straight ways the man does sing. (A sighed in sooth, unseemly for his age:) He longing looks, when any news shall bring, To speak with him, without there waits a page, Oh worthy wit (fit for a Judges head) Unto a man to change a shiftles maid, Wyncke not on me, it his, and not my deed: His, nay, his rule, this Metamorphos made, But Holla tongue, no more of this I pray, Non bonus est, ludere cum sanctis. The quietest, and the thryftiest course they say, Is, not to check, but praise great men's amys, I find it true, for soothing Promos vain: None like my self, is lykte in his conceit, While favour last, then good, I fist for gain: (For Grace will not bite always at my bait) And as I wish, at hand, good Fortune, see: Here coms Phallax, and Gripax, but what's this, As good, as fair handsel, God grant it be: The knaves bring a Woman, Coram nobis. I marvel much what works so my Lord Promos unrest, He fares as if a thousand Devils, were gnawing in his breast: There is sure some worm of grief, that does his conscience nip, For since Andrugio lost his head, he hath hung down the lip. And truth to say, his fault is such as well may grieve his mind, The Devil himself could not have used, a practice more unkind. This is once. I love a woman, for my life, as well as be, But (fair dams) with her that loves Me. I deal well with, trust Me. Well, leave I now my Lord Promos, his own deeds to answer, Lamia I know looks, and double looks, when I come to supper: I thought as much: see, to seek Me, hear coms her Apple squire. How now Rosko?