A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Ii Part 55

And last of all to make an end, O G.o.d, to thee we most humbly pray, That to Queen Elizabeth thou do send Thy lively path and perfect way!

Grant her in health to reign With us many years most prosperously, And after this life for to attain The eternal bliss, joy, and felicity!

Our bishops, pastors, and ministers also, The true understanding of thy word, Both night and day, now mercifully show, That their life and preaching may G.o.dly accord.

The lords of the council and the n.o.bility, Most heavenly father, we thee desire With grace, wisdom, and G.o.dly policy Their hearts and minds always inspire.

And that we thy people, duly considering The power of our queen and great auctority, May please thee and serve her without feigning, Living in peace, rest, and tranquillity.

G.o.d SAVE THE QUEEN.

A SONG.

_Why doth the world study vain glory to attain, The prosperity whereof is short and transitory, Whose mighty power doth fall down again, Like earthen pots, that breaketh suddenly?

Believe rather words that be written in ice, Than the wretched world with his subtlety, Deceitful in gifts, men only to entice, Dest.i.tute of all sure credence and fidelity.

Give credit more to men of true judgments Than to the worldly renown and joys, Replenished with dreams and vain intents, Abounding in wicked and naughty toys.

Where is now Salomon, in wisdom so excellent?

Where is now Samson, in battle so strong?

Where is now Absalom, in beauty resplendent?

Where is now good Jonathas, hid so long?

Where is now Caesar, in victory triumphing?

Where is now Dives, in dishes so dainty?

Where is now Tully, in eloquence exceeding?

Where is now Aristotle, learned so deeply?

What emperors, kings, and dukes in times past, What earls and lords, and captains of war, What popes and bishops, all at the last In the twinkling of an eye are fled so far?

How short a feast is this worldly joying?

Even as a shadow it pa.s.seth away, Depriving a man of gifts everlasting, Leading to darkness and not to day!

O meat of worms, O heap of dust, O like to dew, climb not too high!

To live to-morrow thou canst not trust, Therefore now betime help the needy.

The fleshly beauty, whereat thou dost wonder, In holy Scripture is likened to hay, And as a leaf in a stormy weather, So is man's life blowen clean away.

Call nothing thine that may be lost: The world doth give and take again, But set thy mind on the Holy Ghost; Despite the world that is so vain!_

FINIS.

THE MARRIAGE OF WIT AND SCIENCE.

[The t.i.tle of the old copy is: _A new and Pleasaunt_ enterlude int.i.tuled the mariage of Witte and Science. Imprinted at London in Flete Streete, neare vnto sainct Dunstones churche by Thomas Marshe.

4, black letter.

There is no date, but the size is a small 4to, and it probably appeared in 1570, having been licensed in 1569-70 to Marsh. Some further particulars of the play, now first reprinted from the only known copy in the Malone collection at Oxford, may be found in Hazlitt's "Handbook," 1867, p. 465; Collier's "Extr. from the Stat. Reg.,"

i. 204; and Collier's "Hist. Engl. Dram. Poetry," ii. 341-7, where there is a somewhat long review of the piece, with extracts. Mr Collier, who bestows considerable praise on this interlude, observes: --"The moral play of 'The Marriage of Wit and Science' contains a remarkable external feature not belonging to any other piece of this cla.s.s that I remember to have met with: it is regularly divided into five acts, and each of the scenes is also marked." The anonymous author appears to have borrowed to some extent from the older performance by John Redford, printed from a MS. by the Shakespeare Society in 1848; but the two productions must, nevertheless, be regarded as distinct and independent.]

THE PLAYERS' NAMES.

NATURE.

WIT.

WILL.

STUDY.

DILIGENCE, _with three other women singers_.

SCIENCE.

REASON.

EXPERIENCE.

RECREATION.

SHAME.

IDLENESS.

IGNORANCE.

TEDIOUSNESS.

INSTRUCTION.

THE MARRIAGE OF WIT AND SCIENCE.

[ACT I.]

NATURE, WIT, _and_ WILL.

Grand lady, mother of every mortal thing: Nurse of the world, conservative of kind: Cause of increase, of life and soul the spring; At whose instinct the n.o.ble heaven doth wind, To whose award all creatures are a.s.signed, I come in place to treat with this my son, For his avail how he the path may find, Whereby his race in honour he may run: Come, tender child, unripe and green for age, In whom the parent sets her chief delight, Wit is thy name, but far from wisdom sage, Till tract of time shall work and frame aright, This peerless brain, not yet in perfect plight: But when it shall be wrought, methinks I see, As in a gla.s.s beforehand with my sight, A certain perfect piece of work in thee, And now so far as I [can] guess by signs, Some great attempt is fixed in thy breast: Speak on, my son, whereto thy heart inclines, And let me deal to set thy heart at rest.

He salves the sore, that knows the patient best: As I do thee, my son, my chiefest care, In whom my special praise and joy doth rest; To me therefore these thoughts of thine declare.

WIT.

Nature, my sovereign queen and parent pa.s.sing dear, Whose force I am enforced to know and 'knowledge everywhere, This care of mine, though it be bred within my breast, Yet it is not so ripe as yet to breed me great unrest, So run I to and fro with hap luck as I find, Now fast, now loose: now hot, now cold: inconstant as the wind, I feel myself in love, yet not inflamed so, But causes move me now and then to let such fancies go, Which causes prevailing sets each thing else in doubt Much like the nail, that last came in, and drives the former out.

Wherefore my suit is this: that it would please your grace To settle this unsettled head in some a.s.sured place: To lead me through the thick, to guide me all the way, To point me where I may achieve my most desired pray, For now again of late I kindle in desire, And pleasure p.r.i.c.keth forth my youth to feel a greater fire.

What though I be too young to show her sport in bed, Yet are there many in this land that at my years do wed, And though I wed not yet, yet am I old enou'

To serve my lady to my power, and to begin to woo.

NATURE.

What is that lady, son, which thus thy heart doth move?

WIT.

A lady, whom it might beseem high Jove himself to love.

NATURE.

Who taught thee her to love, or hast thou seen her face?

WIT.

Nor this nor that, but I heard men talk of her apace.