Now as I speak they fall, and yet with fear
Open again. O, wherefore sitt'st thou here?
Light. If you mistrust me, I'll be gone, my lord!
Edw. No, no, for if thou mean'st to murder me,
Thou wilt return again; and therefore stay!
Light. He sleeps.

Edw. O, let me not die yet! O, stay awhile!
Light. How now? my lord!

Edw. Something still buzzeth in mine ears,

And tells me if I sleep I never wake;

This fear is that which makes me tremble thus. And therefore tell me, wherefore art thou come? Light. To rid thee of thy life: Matrevis! come! Edw. I am too weak and feeble to resist :

Assist me, sweet God! and receive my soul.

ROBERT GREENE.

1560?-1592.

FRIAR BACON AND FRIAR BUNGAY.

In the following scene we are concerned only with FRIAR BACON, who by magic means had framed a Brazen Head, which should advise him how to encircle England with a wall of brass, against all coming foes. Worn out with long watching he lies on his bed, and orders his man MILES to watch for him, and to waken him the moment the Head begins to speak.

Bacon. Miles! where are you?

Miles. Here, sir!

Bacon. How chance you tarry so long?

Miles. Think you that the watching of the Brazen Head craves no furniture? I warrant you, sir! I have so armed myself that if all your devils come I will not fear them an inch.

Bacon. Miles!

Thou knowest that I have divèd into Hell
And sought the darkest palaces of fiends;
That with my magic spells great Belcephon

Hath left his lodge and kneeled at my cell;
The rafters of the earth rent from the poles,
And three-form'd Luna hid her silver locks,
Trembling upon her concave continent
When Bacon read upon his magic book.
With seven years' tossing necromantic charms,
Poring upon dark Hecat's principles,

I have framed out a monstrous Head of Brass,
That, by the enchanting forces of the Devil,
Shall tell out strange and uncouth aphorisms,
And gird fair England with a wall of brass.
Bungay and I have watch'd these threescore days,
And now our vital spirits crave some rest.
If Argus lived and had his hundred eyes,
They could not overwatch Phobetor's night.
Now, Miles! in thee rests Friar Bacon's weal;
The honour and renown of all his life
Hangs in the watching of this Brazen Head.
Therefore I charge thee, by the immortal God
That holds the souls of men within his fist,
This night thou watch!--for ere the morning star
Sends out his glorious glister on the North,
The Head will speak! Then, Miles! upon thy life,
Wake me! for then by magic art I'll work
To end my seven years' task with excellence.

If that a wink but shut thy watchful eye,

Then farewell Bacon's glory and his fame!

Draw close the curtains, Miles! Now for thy life
Be watchful, and-

He falls asleep.

Miles. So! I thought you would talk yourself asleep anon; and 'tis no marvel, for Bungay on the days, and he on the nights, have watched just these ten and fifty days. Now this is the night, and 'tis my task, and no Jesus bless me, what a goodly Head it is!

more. Now, And a nose!

You talk of nos autem glorificare: but here's a nose that may be called nos autem populare for the people of the parish. Well, I am furnished with weapons. Now, sir! I will set me down by a post, and make it as good as a watchman to wake me if I chance to slumber. I thought, goodman Head! I would call you out of your memento. Passion o' God! I have almost broke my pate.

A great noise.

Up, Miles! to your task; take your brown bill in your hand! here's some of your master's hobgoblins abroad. The Brazen Head. Time is !

Miles. Time is! Why, master Brazen-Head! have you such a capital nose, and answer you with syllables? Time is! Is this all my master's cunning to spend seven years' study about? Time is! Well, sir! it may be we shall have some better orations of it anon. Well, I'll watch you as narrowly as ever you were watched, and I'll play with you as the nightingale with the slow-worm; I'll set a prick upon my breast. Now rest there, Miles! Lord have mercy upon me! I have almost killed myself.

A great noise.

Up, Miles! list how they rumble !

The Brazen Head. Time was!

Miles. Well, Friar Bacon! you have spent your seven years' study well, that can make your Head speak but two words at once. Time was! Yea, marry! time was when my master was a wise man; but that was before he began to make the Brazen Head. You shall lie while your back ache, an your Head speak no better. Well, I will watch and walk up and down, and be a peripatetian and a philosopher of Aristotle's stamp.

A great noise.

What! a fresh noise? Take thy pistols in hand, Miles! The Brazen Head. Time is past!

A lightning flashes forth, and a hand appears that breaks down the Head

with a hammer.

Miles. Master! master! up! Hell's broken loose; your Head

speaks; and there's such a thunder and lightning that I warrant all Oxford is up in arms. Out of your bed, and take a brown bill in your hand! The Latter Day is come. Bacon. Miles! I come.

Rises and comes forward.

O passing warily watch'd!

Bacon will make thee next himself in love.

When spake the Head?

Miles. When spake the Head?

Did you not say that he

should tell strange principles of philosophy? Why, sir! it speaks but two words at a time.

Bacon. Why, villain! hath it spoken oft?

Miles. Oft? Ay, marry! hath it, thrice; but in all those three times it hath utter'd but seven words.

Bacon. As how?

Miles. Marry! sir! the first time he said-Time is! as if Fabius Commentator should have pronounced a sentence; the second time he said-Time was! and the third time, with thunder and lightning as in great choler, he said— Time is past!

Bacon. 'Tis past, indeed. Ah, villain! time is past:

My life, my fame, my glory,-all are past.—
Bacon!

The turrets of thy hope are ruin'd down,

Thy seven years' study lieth in the dust,

Thy Brazen Head lies broken through a slave

That watch'd, and would not when the Head did will!
What said the Head first?

Miles.

Even, sir!-Time is !
Bacon. Villain! if thou hadst call'd to Bacon then,-
If thou hadst watch'd, and waked the sleepy friar,
The Brazen Head had utter'd aphorisms,
And England had been circled round with brass.
But proud Asmenoth, ruler of the North,

And Demogorgon, master of the Fates,
Grudge that a mortal man should work so much.
Hell trembled at my deep-commanding spells;
Fiends frown'd to see a man their overmatch.
Bacon might boast more than a man might boast:
But now the braves of Bacon have an end,—
Europe's conceit of Bacon hath an end,--
His seven years' practice sorteth to ill end;
And, villain! sith my glory hath an end,
I will appoint thee to some fatal end.
Villain! avoid! get thee from Bacon's sight!
Vagrant, go roam and range about the world,
And perish as a vagabond on earth!

Miles. Why then, sir! you forbid me your service?
Bacon. My service, villain! with a fatal curse,

That direful plagues and mischief fall on thee. Miles. 'Tis no matter! I am against you with the old proverb -The more the fox is cursed, the better he fares. God be with you, sir! I'll take a book in my hand, a widesleeved gown on my back, and a crowned cap on my head, and see if I can want promotion.

HENRY PORTER.

THE TWO ANGRY WOMEN OF ABINGDON.

MRS. BARNES and MRS. GOURSEY, their husbands present, sit down to a friendly game, with dice and tables. The beginning of a quarrel.

Mr. B. Mistress Goursey! how do you like this game?

Mrs. G. Well, sir!

Mr. B. Can ye play at it?

Mrs. G. A little, sir!

Mr. B. 'Faith, so can my wife.

Mr. G. Why then, Master Barnes! and if you please,
Our wives shall try the quarrel 'twixt us two,

And we'll look on.