KING

Cassandra, we draw near unto the Town. So that I will that you from us depart: Till further of our pleasure you do hear. Yet rest assured, that wicked Promos, Shall abide such punishment, as the world, Shall hold Me joust, and clear thee of offence. I see by proof, that true the prover be is, Might masters right, wealth is such a canker, As wounds the conscience, of his Master, And devours the heart of his poor neighbour. To cure which soar, Justice his pride must pyue, Which Justice ought in Princes most to shine: And sith subjects live by their princes law, Whose laws in chief, the rich should keep in awe: The poor in wrouges, but seldom does delight, They have enough, for to desende their right: It much behooves the maker of these laws, (This money finds in them, so many flaws) To see his laws, obser'd as they are meant: Or else good laws, will turn to evil intent. Well, ere I leave, my poorest subjects shall, Both live, and like: and by the richest stawll. Sir Ulrico, I wild, Commission should be made, To Sir Anthony Alberto, and Justice Diron, To hear and determine, all suits to be had Between Master Prostro, and this poor man: is it done? I plainly see, it tends to great behoove, That Princes oft do vail their ears to hear, The Misers plaint: for though they do appoint, Such as they think will Justice execute, Authority is such a commander, As, where as men by office bears sway, If they their rule by conscience measure not, The poor men right is overcome by might. If love or hate from Justice lead the Judge, Then money sure may over rule the case. Thus one abuse is cause of many more: And therefore none in Judges ought to be, How Rulers wrong, few tales are told the King: The reason is, their power keeps in awe Such men as have great cause for to complain. If Cassandra her goods, nay, life preferred, Before revenge of Promos treachery: I had not known, his detestable rape, The which he forced to save her brother's life. And furthermore, Andrugios ransom paid, I had not known be put him unto death: For when (good soul) she had this treason told. Through very shame her honour so was spoiled: She drew her knife to wound her self to death. Whose pysious plight, my heart provoked to wrath, At Promos wiles: So that to use undifferency to both, Even in the place where all these wrongs were none: My self am come, to fit upon the cause. But see where Promos and the Mayor weight, To welcome me with great solemnity: With cheerful show I shadow will the hate, I bear to him for his insolency: Perhaps I may learn more of his abuse, Whereby the more his punishment may be. Come my Lords to the Town haste we apace: My Lord Promise, it seems you rule at large, When as your clerks are officers unjust. How now Promos? how think you of your man? Use both your wits, to clear him if you can. How far'de it then, to suffer it indeed? It died, I trow, or now you speak in jest: Thy Master's mute Phallax, I hold it best That thou speak, for thy self. Why? to devise a cloak to hide a knave? Friend, veritas non querit angulos, And if your self, you on your truth repose, You may be bold, these faults for to deny, Some, little care, upon their oaths to lie: See if any in your behalf will swear. Thy confession, does meryt some favour, But repentance pays not thy poor neighbour: Wherefore, Sir Ulrico, his goods seize you, And those, he wronged, restore you, to their endue. Where nought is left, the king must loose his right. Pay as you may, I hold it no offence, If each pay somewhat for experience: But by the way, you rule the city well, That suffer, by your nose, such dams to dwell. And now Phallax, thy further penance is, That forthwith, thou do resign thy office. Ulrico, to his account likewise, see. Phallax, further hear Me: Because thou didst, thy faults at first confess, From punishment thy person I release: How now Promos? how like you, of this song? Say on fair dame, I long to hear thy wrong. If this be true, so towle a deed, shall not unpunished go, How sayest thou Promos, to her playnte? art guilty? yea, or no? Why speakest thou not? a faulty heart, thy silence sure does show. And is it so? this wicked deed, thou shalt ere long buy deer, Cassandra, take comfort in care, be of good cheer: Thy forced fault, was free from evil intent, So long, no shame, can blot thee any way. And though at full, I hardly can content thee, Yet as I may, assure thy self I will. Thou wicked man, might it not thee suffice, By worse then force, to spoil her chastity, But heaping sin on sin against thy oath, Haste cruelly, her brother done to death. This over proof, ne can but make me think, That many ways thou hast my subjects wronged: For how canst thou with Justice use thy sway? When thou thy self dost make thy will a law? Thy tyranny made me, this progress make, How so, for sport till now I coloured it Unto this end, that I might learn at large, What other wrongs by power, thou hast wrought, And here, I hear: the Rich suppress the poor: So that it seems, the best and thou art friends: I placed Thee not, to be a partial Judge. Thy Officers are covetous I find, By whose reports, thou over culest suits. Then who that gives, and Item in the hand, In right, and wrong, is sure of good success. Well, Varlet, well: too slow I hither came, To scourge, thy faults, and salve the sores thou madest: On Thee vile wretch, this sentence I pronounce. That forth with, thou shalt marry Cassandra, For to repair his honour, thou didst waste: The next day thou shalt loose thy hated life. In penance, that thou madest his Brother die. Hac facias alteri, quod tibi vis fieri: Pity was no plea Sir, when you in judgement sat, Prepare your self to die, in vain you hope for life. My Lords, bring him with Me: Cassandra come you in Like case My self will see, thy honour salved, in making Thee his Wife, The sooner to shorten his days. Repair to Sir Ʋ lrico, for thy Commission: Andrugio, you shall have more leisure. To greet one another: it is our pleasure, That you forthwith, your Fortune's here declare, And by what means, you thus preserved wear. A strange discourse, as strangely come to light, Gods pleasure is, that thou shouldst pardoned be: To salve the fault, thou with Polina madest, But marry her, and hear I set thee free. If I do so, let him thank Thee his Wife: Cassandra, I have noted thy distress, Thy virtues eke, from first, unto the last: And glad I am, without offence it lies, In me to ease, thy grief, and heaviness. Andrugio saved, the jewel of thy joy, And for thy sake, I pardon Promos fault. Yea let them both, thy virtues rare commend: In that their woes, with this delight does end. Well, fince all parts are pleased, as they would, Before I part, yet Promos, this to thee: Henceforth, forethink, of thy forepassed faults, And measure Grace, with Justice evermore. Unto the poor, have evermore and eye, And let not might, out countenance their right: Thy Officers, trust not in every tale. In chief, when they are means, in strifes and suits, Though thou be joust, yet coin may them corrupt. And if by them, thou dost unjustice show, Tys thou shalt bear, the burden of their faults. Be loving to good Cassandra, thy Wife: And friendly to thy brother Andrugio, Whom I command, as faithful for to be To Thee, as beseems the duty of a brother. And now again, thy government receive, Enjoy it so, as thou in Justice joy. If thou be wise, thy fallen may make thee rise. The lost sheep found, for joy, the feast was made. Well, here and end, of my advise I make, As I have said, be good unto the poor. And Justice join, with mercy enermore. Promos, the good report, of your good government I hear, Or at the least, the good conceit, that towards you I bear. To encourage you the more, in Justice to perseauer, Is the chief cause. I did address, my Progress heather. Your great good wills, and gifts with thanks I take: But keep you Still, your goods, to do you good. It is enough, and all that I do crave, If needs compels for your and our safety, That you in partly your proffers large perform: And for this time as outward shows make proof, It is enough (and all that I desire) That your hearts and tongues (alike) bid me welcome. Sir Gonsago, if that we henceforth hear, With will, or wealth, you do our subjects wrong: Look not again, this favour for to find, We use thie grace, to win you to amend: If not, our wrath shall fear you to offend. God spade you. Do you but think sir: a sure spear to trust? A dum death, and blind Judge, can do as much: Well, well, God grant, your own life, bide the touch. Sir Vlrice, your complaint continue: