shoulde be about to leaue the bodye ¶ The Sonne ¶ Father this thynge I coulde not haue beleued But of late dayes I dyd beholde In honest mannes sonne hereby buryed Which throughe many strypes was dead and colde ¶ The Father ¶ Perauenture the Childe of some disease did laboure Which was the cause of his Sepulture ¶ The Sonne ¶ With no disease surely was he disquieted As vnto me it was then reported ¶ The Father ¶ If that with no such thynge he were infected What was the cause that he departed ¶ The Sonne ¶ Men saye that of this man his bloudy mayster Who lyke a Lyon most coÌ„monly frowned Beynge hanged vp by the heeles togyther â–ª Was bealy and buttocke greuouslye whipped And last of all whiche to speake I trembled That his head to the wall he had often crusshed ¶ The Father ¶ Thus to thynke Sonne thou art beguyled verilye And I woulde wysshe the to suppose the contrary And not for suche tales my counsell to forsake Which only do couet thee learned to make ¶ The Sonne ¶ If Demesthenes and Tully were present truely They coulde not prynt it within my head hâ—pely ¶ The Father ¶ Yet by thy fathers wyll and intercession Thou shalt be content that thinge to pardon ¶ The Sonne ¶ Commaunde what ye lyst that onely excepted And I will by redy your mynde to fulfyll But where as I shulde to the Schole haue resorted My hande to the Palmer submyttynge styll I wyll not obey ye theriâ— to be playne Thoughe with a thousande strokes I be slayne ¶ The Father ¶ Wo is me my Sonne wo is me This heauy and dolefull daye to see ¶ The Sonne ¶ I graunt in dede I am your Sonne But you my Father shall not be If that ye myll cast me into that pryson Where torne in peices ye myght me see ¶ The Father ¶ Where I myght see the torne and rent O Lord I coulde not suche a dede inuent ¶ The Sonne ¶ Naye by the Masse I holde ye a grote Those cruell tyrauntes cut not my throte Better it were my selfe dyd fleye Then they with the Rodde my flesshe shoulde fleye Well I woulde we dyd this talke omyt For it is lothesome to me euery whyt ¶ The Father ¶ What trade then I praye the shall I deuyse Wherof thy lyuinge at length maye aryse Wilte thou folowe Warfare and a Souldiour be pointed And so amonge Troyans and Romaynes be nombred ¶ The Sonne ¶ See ye not maysters my Fathers aduyse Haur ye the lyke at any time harde To wyll me therto he is not wyse If my yeares and strength he dyd regarde Ye speake worse and worse what soeuer ye saye This maner of life is not a good waye For no kynde of offyce can me please Which is subiecte to woundes and strokes alwaies ¶ The Father ¶ Somwhat to do it is mete and conueniet Wylte thou then gyue thy dylygent endenoure To let thy youth vnhonestly be spent And do as poore knaues which Iares do scoure For I do not see that any good Arte Or els any honest Science or occupacion Thou wylte be content to haue a parte After thy fathers mynde and exhortacion ¶ The Sonne ¶ Ha ha ha a laboure in verye deede God send hym that lyfe which standes in neede There be many fathers that chyldren haue And yet not make the worst of them a â—aue Might not you of your selfe be well a shamed Which wolde haue your sonne thyther constrayned ¶ The Father ¶ I woulde not haue the dryuen to that succoure Yet for bycause the Scriptures declare That he shoulde not eare which wyll not laboure Some worke to do it must be thy eare ¶ The Sonne ¶ Father it is but a folye with you to stryue But yet notwithstandynge I hope to thryue ¶ The Father ¶ That this thyne intente maye take good successe I praye God hartely of hys goodnes ¶ The Sonne ¶ Well well shall I in fewe wordes reherse What thinge doth most my Conscience perse ¶ The Father ¶ Therwith I am Sonne very well contented ¶ The Sonne ¶ Yea but I thynke that ye wyll not be pleased ¶ The Father ¶ In dede peraduenture it maye so chaunce ¶ The Sonne ¶ Naye but I praye ye without any perchaunce Shall not my request turne to your greuannce ¶ The Father ¶ If it be iust and lawfull which thou doest requyre ¶ The Sonne ¶ Both iust and lawfull haue ye no feare ¶ The Father Nowe therfore aske what is thy peticion ¶ The Sonne ¶ Loe this it is without further Dilacion For so much as all yongmen for this my Beautie As the Moone the starres I do farre excell Therfore out of mâ—de with all spede posyâ—ly To haue a wife me thynke wolde do well For now I am â—onge lyuely and iustie And welcome besydes to all mennes companye ¶ The Father ¶ Good Lord good Lord what do I here ¶ The Sonne ¶ Is this your begynnynge to performe my desyre ¶ The Father ¶ It is my chylde what meaneth thy dotynge Why doest thou couet thy owne vn doynge ¶ The Sonne ¶ I knowe not in the worlde howe to do the thynge That to his stomacke maye be delyghtynge ¶ The Father ¶ Why fooly she I deot thou goest about a wyfe Which is a burthen and yoke all thy lyfe ¶ The Sonne ¶ Admyt she shall as a burthen with me remayne Yet â—oyll I take one if your good wyll I attayne ¶ The Father ¶ Sonne it shall not be thus by my counsell ¶ The Sonne ¶ I truste ye wyll not me otherwyse compell ¶ The Father ¶ If thou were as wyse as I haue iudged the Thou woldest in this case be ruled by me ¶ The Sonne ¶ To folowe the contrarye I can not be turned My hatte theron is styflly fixed ¶ The Father ¶ What I saye about thine owne distruction ¶ The Sonne ¶ No no but about myne owne saluation For if I be helped If were by the Masse It is onely Maryage that brynges it to passe It is not the Schole it is not the Booke It is not Science or Occupacion It is not to be a â—arbour or Cooke Wherein is now set my consolacion And synce it is thus be father content For to marye a wyfe I am full bent ¶ The Father ¶ Well if thou wylt not my Sonne be ruled But nedes wyll folowe thyne owne foolysshenes Take hede hereafter if thou be troubled At me thou neuer seeke redresse For I am certeyn thou canst not abyde Any payne at all gryefe or vexacion Thy Chyldhood with me so easely dyd slyde Full of all pastyme and delectacyon And if thou woldest folowe the Booke and learnynge And with thy selfe also take a wyse waye Then thou mayst get a gentlemans lynynge And with many other beare a great swaye Besydes this I wolde in time to come After my power and small havylytie Helpe the and further the as my wysdome Shulde me most counsell for thy Commodytie And such a wyfe
A pretie and Mery new Enterlude called the Disobedient Child Compiled by Thomas Ingelend late Student in Cambridge ¶ Imprinted at London in Fletestrete beneath the Conduit by Thomas Colwell First Edition ¶ The Players names ¶ The Prologue speaker ¶ The Bycheman ¶ The Bâ—chemans sonne ¶ The ManCooke ¶ The young woman ¶ The Seruing man. ¶ The Priest ¶ The Deuyll ¶ The Perorator ¶ The Prologue speaker NOwe forasmuche as in these latter dayes Throughout the whole world in euery lande Vice doth encrease and Vertue decayes Iniquitie hauynge the vpper hande We therfore intende good gentle Audience A pretie short Interlude to playe at this present Desyrynge your leaue and quiet scisence To shewe the same as is mete and expedient The sume wherof matter and argument In two or thre verses briefely to declare Synce that it is for an honest intent I wyll somewhat bestowe my care In the Citie of London there was a ryche man Who louynge his sonne moste tenderlye Moued hym earnestly now and than That he woulde gyue his mynde to studye Sayinge that by knowledge scyence and learnynge Is at the last gotten a pleasaunt lyfe But throng he the want and lacke of this thynge Is purchased ponertie sorowe and stryfe His Sonne notwithstandynge this gentle monition As one that was cleane deuoyde of grace Dyd turne to a mocke and open derysion Moste wickedly with an bushame fast face In so muche that contrarye to his fathers wyll Vnto a yonge woman he dyd consente Wherby of luste he might haue his fyll And maryed the same in contynents Not longe after that the childe began To feele his wyffes great frowardenes And called hymselfe vnhappye man Oâ—â—ressed with paynes and heauynes Who before that time dyd lyue blessedly Whilst he was vnder his fathers wynge But nowe beynge weddyd mournynge and myserye Dyd hym torment without endynge But nowe it is tyme for me to be goynge And hence to departe for a certeyne space For I do heare the Ryche man coÌ„mynge With the wanton boye into this place ¶ Here the Prologue speaker goeth out and in coÌ„meth the Ryche man and his sonne ¶ The Sonne LAther I beseche you father shewe me the waye What thynge I were best to take in hand Wherby this shorte lyfe so spende I maye That all gryefe and trouble I myght withstande ¶ The Father ¶ What is the meanynge my chylde I the praye This question to be maunde of me For that thynge to so I am glad alwaye Which shoulde not be greuous to the. ¶ The Sonne ¶ Marye but therfore of you counsell I take Seynge nowe my Chyldehood I am cleane past That vnto me ye playnely do make What to a yongman is best for to tast ¶ The Father ¶ I see nothinge truely my Sonne so mete And to proue so profytable for the As vnto the Schole to moue thy feete With studious Laddes there for to be ¶ The Sonne ¶ What the Scholeen aye father naye Go to the Schole is not the best waye ¶ The father ¶ Saye what thou lyste for I can not inuent A waye more coÌ„modyous in my Iudgement ¶ The Sonne ¶ It is well knowne howe that ye haue loued Me heretofore at all tymes most tenderlye But now me thynke ye haue playnely shewed Certayne tokens of hatred For if I shoulde go to my Booke after your aduyse Whiche haue spent my Chyldehood so pleasauntlye I maye then seeme dryuen out of Paradyse To take payne and woe gryefe and myserye All thynges I had rather sustayne and abyde The busynes of the Schole ones cast asyde Therfore thoughe ye crye tyll ye reue asunder I wyll not meddle with such a matter ¶ The Father ¶ Why can not I thee thus much perswade For that in my mynde is the best trade ¶ The Sonne ¶ Whan all is saide and all is done Concernynge all thynges both more and lesse Yet lyke to the Schole none vnder the Sonne Bryngeth to children so much heauynesse ¶ The Father ¶ What though it be paynfull what thought it be greues For so be all thynges at the fyrste learnynge Yet meruaylous pleasure it bryngeth vnto vs As a rewarde for suche paynes takynge Wherfore come of and be of good cheare And go to thy Booke without any feare For a man without knowledge as I haue read Maye well be compared to one that is dead ¶ The Sonne ¶ No more of the Schole no more of the Booke That wofull worke is not for my purpose For vpon those Bookes I maye not looke If so I dyd my laboure I should lose ¶ The Father ¶ Why than to me thy fansye expresse That the Schole matters to the are counted werynesse ¶ The Sonne ¶ Euen as to a great man wealthy and ryche Seruice and bondage is a harde thynge So to a Boye both dayntie and nyce Learnynge and studye is greatly displeasynge ¶ The father ¶ What my Chylde displeasynge I praye the That maketh a man lyue so happyly ¶ The Sonne ¶ Yea by my trouthe suche kynde of wysdome Is to my hearte I tell you verye lothesome ¶ The Father ¶ What tryall therof hast thou taken That the Scole of thee is so ill bespoken ¶ The Sonne ¶ What tryall therof woulde ye fayne knowe Nothynge more easye then this to showe At other boyes handes I haue it learned And that of those truelye most of all other Which for a certen tyme haue remayned In the house and pryson of a Scholemayster ¶ The Father ¶ I dare well saye that there is no myserye But rather Ioye pastyme and pleasure Alwayes with Scholers hapynge company No lyfe to this I the wall assure ¶ The Sonne ¶ It is not true Father which you do saye The contrarye therof is proued alwaye For as the Brute goeth by many a one Their tender bodyes both nyght and daye Are whypped and scourged and beate lyke a stone That from toppe to toe the sayn is awaye ¶ The Father ¶ Is there not saye they for them in this case Gyuen other whyle for pardone some place ¶ The Sonne ¶ None truely none but that alas alas Diseases amonge them do growe apase For out of their backe and syde doth floe Of verye goore bloode merueylous abundance And yet for all that is not suffered to goe Tyll death be almost seene in their countinaunce Shoulde I be content then thyther to runne Where the bloude from my breeche thus shoulde spuane So longe as my wyttes shall be myne owne The Scholehouse for me shall stande alone ¶ The Father ¶ But I am sure that this kynde of facion Is not shewed to children of honest condicion ¶ The Sonne ¶ Of trouth with these Maisters is no dyfference For alyke towardes all is their wrathe and violence ¶ The Father ¶ Sonne in this poynt thou art quyte deceyued And without doubte falsely perswaded For it is not to be iudged that any Scholemayster Is of so great fiersenes and crueltye And of yonge Infantes so sore a tormenter That the breath
to declare wyll not suffyse Yf this be not true as I haue spoken To my good neyghbours I me reporte Who ether whyles when I was smytten My wyfe to be gentle dyd then exhorte For glad I was to abyde all laboure Wherby the lesse might be my doloure Wherfore good Father I you humblye desyre To haue pitye of me and some compassion Or els I am lyke to lye fast in the myre Without any succoure or consolation For at this houre I haue not a peny My selfe to helpe in this great myserye ¶ The Father ¶ For so muche as by my aduyse and counsell In no maner wyse thou woldest be ruled Therfore to the I can not do well But let the styll suffre as thou haste deserued For that thou hast suffred is yet nothynge To that trybulation which is behinde coÌ„mynge ¶ The Sonne ¶ Alas Father what shall I do My wyttes of them selues can not deuyse What thynge I were best to goe vnto Wherof an honest lyuynge maye aryse Wherfore gentle Father in this distresse Somewhat aswage myne heuynes ¶ The Father ¶ What shoulde I do I can not tell For now that thou hast taken a wyfe With me thy father thou mayst not dwell But alwayes with her spende thy lyfe Thou mayst not agayne thy wyfe forsake Which durynge lyfe to the thou dydst take ¶ The Sonne ¶ Alas I am not able thus to endure Thoughe therunto I were neuer so wyllynge For my wyfe is of such a crooked nature As no woman els is this daye lyuynge And if the verye trueth I shall confesse She is to me an euyll that is endlesse ¶ The Father ¶ If that thou thinkest thy selfe alone Onely to leade this yrkesome lyfe Thou maiest learne what griefe sorowe and mone Socrates had with Xantippa his wyfe Her Husbande full ofte she tawnted and checked And as the Booke saythe vnhonestly mocked ¶ The Sonne ¶ I can not tell what was Socrates wyfe But myne I do knowe alas to well She is one that is euermore full of stryfe And of all Scolders beareth the Bell. When she speaketh best then brawleth her tonge When she is styll she fyghteth apace She is an olde Witch thoughe she be yonge No mirth with her no ioye or solace ¶ The Father ¶ I can not my Sonne thy state redresse Me thy Father thou dydst refuse Wherfore now helpe thy owne fooly shenes And of thy wyfe no longer muse ¶ The Sonne ¶ My wyfe went foorth nâ— to the Countrey With certayne Gossyppes to make good chere And bad me at home styll to be That at her returne she might fynde me there And if that she do take me from home My bones alas shee wyll make to crackell And me her Husbande as a starke mome With knockyng and mockynge she wyll handell And therfore if I maye not here remayne Yet louynge Father geue me your rewarde That I may with speede ride haue againe That to my wyfes wordes haue some regarde ¶ The Father ¶ If that at the fyrst thou woldest haue bene ordered And done as thy Father counsayled the So wretched a lyfe had neuer chaunced Wherof at this present thou complaynest to me But yet come on to my house wee wyll be goynge And ther thou shalt see what I wyll gyue A lytell to helpe thy nedye lyuynge Synce that in such penurye thou doest lyue And that once done thou must hence agayne For I am not he that wyll the retayne ¶ Here the Ryche man and his Sonne go out and in coÌ„meth the Peroratour ¶ The Peroratour THis Interlude here good gentle audience Which presently before you we haue played ⸬ ⸬ Was set foorth with such care and diligence As by vs truely myght well be shewed Shorte it is I denye not and full of breuitie But if ye marke therof the matter Then choose ye can not but see playnely How payne and pleasure be knyt togyther By this lytell playe the Father is taught After what maner his Chylde to vse Least that throughe cockerynge at length he be brought His Fathers CoÌ„maundement to refuse Here ye maye learne a wyttie lesson Betymes to correcte his Sonne beynge tender And not let hym be lost and vndone With wantonnes of mischiefe the Mother For as longe as the twygge is gentell and plyent Euery man knoweth this by experience With small force and strength it maye be bent Puttynge therto but lytell dylygence But after that it waxeth somewhat digger And to east his braunches largely begynneth It is scant the myght of all thy power That one kowghe therof â–ª easely bendeth This twygge to a chylde maye well be applyed Which in his childehoode and age of Infancie With small correction maye be amended Emoracynge the Schole with harte and bodie Who afterwarde with ouer much lybertye And rangynge abrobe with the Brydell of wyll Despyseth all vertue searnyuge and honestys And also his Fathers mynde to fullfyll Wherby at the length it so falleth out That this the yonge Stryplynge after that daye Runnes into confusyon without any doubte And lyke for euermore quyte to decaye Wherfore take hede all ye that be parentes And solowe a parte after my counsell Instructe your Chyldren and make them studentes That vnto all goodnes they do not rebell Remember what writeth Salomon the wyse Oui parcit Virgae odith filium ¶ Therfore for asmuche as ye can deuyse Spare not the Rodde but folowe wisdome Further ye yonge men and Chyldren also Lysten to me and harken a whyle What in fewe wordes for you I wyll showe Without any slatterye fraude or guyle This Richemans Sonne whome we dyd set foorth Here euidently before your eyes Was as it chaunced nothinge worth Gyuen to all noughtynes vyce and lyes The cause wherof was this for a trueth His tyme full idlely he dyd spende And woulde not studye in his youth Which might haue brought him to a good ende His fathers coÌ„maundement he wolde not obaye But wantouly folowed his fantasye For nothynge that he coulde do or saye Woulde brynge this Chylde to honestie And at the last as here ye myght see Upon a wyfe he fired his mynde Thynkynge the same to be felicitie When in dede myserye came bebynde For by this wyfe be carefully lyued Who vnder his Father did want nothinge And in suche sorte was hereby tormented That euer a none he went lamentynge His Father dyd wyll him lyghtnes to leaue And onely to gyue him selfe vnto studye But yet vnto vertue he would dot cleaue Which is coÌ„modious for soule and bodye You hearde that by Sentences auncient and olde He styrred his Sonne as he best thought But he as an vnthryfe stowte and bolde His bolsome counsell dyd set at nought And synce that he despysed his Father God vnto hym dyd sodeynly then sende Such pouertie with a wyfe and griefe togyther That shame and sorowe was his ende Wherfore to conclude I warne you all By your louynge parentes alwayes be ruled Or els be well assured of suche a fall As vnto this yongman worthely channced Worshyp God dayly whiche is the chiefe thynge And his holy lawes do not offende Looke that ye truely serue the kynge And all your faultes be glad to amende Moreouer be true of hande and tonge And learne to do all thynges that be honest For no tyme so fytte as when ye be yonge Because that age onely is the aptest I haue no more to speake at this season Fâ—â—â—â—â—ye good wyll these thynges I dyd saye Bycause I do see that vertue is geason With most men and chyldren at this daye ¶ Here the rest of the Players come in and kneels downe all togyther eche of them sayinge one of these Verses And last of all to make an ende O God to the we most humblye praye That to Queene Elizabeth thou do sende Thy lyuely pathe and perfecte waye Graunte her in health to raygne With vs many yeares most prosperoustye And after this lyfe for to attayne The eternall blysse Ioye and felycytie Our Bysshoppes pastoures and Mynisters also The true vnderstandynge of thy worde Both nyght and daye nowe mercyfully showe That their lyfe and preachynge maye godly accorde The Lordes of the Counsell and the Nobylytie Most heauenly Father we thee desyre With grace wisdome and godly polycie Their hartes and myndes alwayes inspyre And that we thy people duelye consyderynge The power of our Queene and great auctorytie Maye please thee and serue her without faynynge Lyuynge in peace rest and tranquilytie ¶ God saue the Queene ¶ A Songe WHy doth the worlde studye vaynglory to affâ—yne The prosperytye wherof is shorte and transitory Whose mighty power doth fall downe agayne Lyke earthen portes that breaketh so daynly ¶ Beleue rather wordes that be wrytten in Ice Then the wretched world with his subtylytie Disceytfull in Giâ—ces men onelie to entyce Destytute of â—â—â—sure credence and fydelytie ¶ Gyne credyt more to men of true Iudgementes Then to the worldly renowne and ioyes Replenys shed with dreames and vayne intentes Aboun dynge in wicked and noughtye toyes ¶ Where is now Salomon in wisdome so excellence Where is now Samyson in battell so stronge Where is now Aâ—soloâ—â— in Beantie resplendent Where is now good Iousthas hyd so longe ¶ Where is now Cesar in victorye tryumphynge Where is now Tines in disshes so dayntie Where is now Tully in Gloquence excedynge Where is now Arâ—â—â—le learned so depely ¶ What Emperoues kyngs and Dukes in times past What Earies and Lordes and Captaynes of warre What Popes and Bysshoppes all at the last In the twyâ—â—kynge of an eye are fled so farre ¶ Howe shorte a Feaste is this worldly ioyenge Euen as it shadewe 〈◊〉 passeth awaye Depryâ—â—ge a 〈◊〉 of byâ—tes euerlastynge Leadynge to daâ—â—ed 〈◊〉 not to daye ¶ O meate of wormes O heape of duste O lyke to dewe clyme not to hye To lyue to morowe thou canst not truste Therfore now betyme helpe the nedye ¶ The fles shely Beautie wherat thou doest wondre In holy Scripture is lykened to Haye And as a Leafe in a stormye weather So is mannes lyfe blowen cleane a waye ¶ Calle nothynge thyne that maye be lost The worlde doth gyue and take agayne But set thy mynde on the holy Ghoste Despyse the worlde that is so vayne ¶ Finis S. Iohn Euangelist