William Shakespeare - The Complete Apocryphal Works of William Shakespeare - All 17 Rare Plays in One Edition

MUCEDORUS.

But where shall I find you in the Court?

MOUSE. Why, where it is best being, either in the kitchen a eating or in the buttery drinking: but if you come, I will provide for thee a piece of beef & brewis knockle deep in fat; pray you, take pains, remember master mouse.

[Exit.]

MUCEDORUS.

Aye, sir, I warrant I will not forget you. Ah, Amadine,

What should become of thee?

Whither shouldst thou go so long unknown?

With watch and ward each passage is beset,

So that she cannot long escape unknown.

Doubtless she hath lost her self within these woods

And wandring to and fro she seeks the well,

Which yet she cannot find; therefore will I seek her out.

[Exit.]

SCENE III. The same.

[Enter Bremo and Amadine.]

BREMO.

Amadine, how like you Bremo & his woods?

AMADINE.

As like the woods of Bremo’s cruelty:

Though I were dumb and could not answer him,

The beasts themselves would with relenting tears

Bewail thy savage and unhumane deeds.

BREMO.

My love, why dost thou murmur to thy self?

Speak louder, for thy Bremo hears thee not.

AMADINE.

My Bremo? no, the shepherd is my love.

BREMO.

Have I not saved thee from sudden death,

Giving thee leave to live that thou mightst love?

And dost thou whet me on to cruelty?

Come kiss me, sweet, for all my favours past.

AMADINE.

I may not, Bremo, and therefore pardon me.

BREMO.

See how she flings away from me; I will follow

And give a rend to her. Deny my love!

Ah, worm of beauty, I will chastice thee;

Come, come, prepare thy head upon the block.

AMADINE.

Oh, spare me, Bremo, love should limit life,

Not to be made a murderer of him self.

If thou wilt glut thy loving heart with blood,

Encounter with the lion or the bear,

And like a wolf pray not upon a lamb.

BREMO.

Why then dost thou repine at me?

If thou wilt love me thou shalt be my queen:

I will crown thee with a chaplet made of Ivy,

And make the rose and lily wait on thee:

I’ll rend the burley branches from the oak,

To shadow thee from burning sun.

The trees shall spread themselves where thou dost go,

And as they spread, I’ll trace along with thee.

AMADINE.

[Aside.] You may, for who but you?

BREMO.

Thou shalt be fed with quails and partridges,

With black birds, larks, thrushes and nightingales.

Thy drink shall be goat’s milk and crystal water,

Distilled from the fountains & the clearest springs.

And all the dainties that the woods afford.

I’ll freely give thee to obtain thy love.

AMADINE.

[Aside.] You may, for who but you?

BREMO.

The day I’ll spend to recreate my love

With all the pleasures that I can devise,

And in the night I’ll be thy bedfellow,

And lovingly embrace thee in mine arms.

AMADINE.

[Aside.] One may, so may not you.

BREMO.

The satyrs & the woodnymphs shall attend on thee

And lull thee a sleep with music’s sound,

And in the morning when thou dost awake,

The lark shall sing good morn to my queen,

And whilst he sings, I’ll kiss my Amadine.

AMADINE.

[Aside.] You may, for who but you?

BREMO.

When thou art up, the wood lanes shall be strawed

With violets, cowslips, and sweet marigolds

For thee to trample and to trace upon,

And I will teach thee how to kill the deer,

To chase the hart and how to rouse the roe,

If thou wilt live to love and honour me.

AMADINE.

[Aside.] You may, for who but you?

[Enter Mucedorus.]

BREMO.

Welcome, sir,

An hour ago I looked for such a guest.

Be merry, wench, we’ll have a frolic feast:

Here’s flesh enough to suffice us both.

Stay, sirra, wilt thou fight or dost thou yeel to die?

MUCEDORUS.

I want a weapon; how can I fight?

BREMO.

Thou wants a weapon? why then thou yeelst to die.

MUCEDORUS.

I say not so I do not yield to die.

BREMO.

Thou shalt not choose. I long to see thee dead.

AMADINE.

Yet spare him, Bremo, spare him.

BREMO.

Away, I say, I will not spare him.

MUCEDORUS.

Yet give me leave to speak.

BREMO.

Thou shalt not speak.

AMADINE.

Yet give him leave to speak for my sake.

BREMO.

Speak on, but be not over long.

MUCEDORUS.

In time of yore, when men like brutish beasts

Did lead their lives in loathsome cells and woods

And wholly gave themselves to witless will,

A rude unruly rout, then man to man

Became a present prey, then might prevailed,

The weakest went to walls:

Right was unknown, for wrong was all in all.

As men thus lived in this great outrage,

Behold one Orpheus came, as poets tell,

And them from rudeness unto reason brought,

Who led by reason soon forsook the woods.

Instead of caves they built them castles strong;

Cities and towns were founded by them then:

Glad were they, they found such ease,

And in the end they grew to perfect amity;

Weighing their former wickedness,

They termed the time wherein they lived then

A golden age, a goodly golden age.

Now, Bremo, for so I hear thee called,

if men which lived tofore as thou dost now,

Wily in wood, addicted all to spoil,

Returned were by worthy Orpheus’ means,