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  • Title: Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay (Quarto)
  • Editors: Christopher Hicklin, Christopher Matusiak

  • Copyright Queen's Men Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: Robert Greene
    Editors: Christopher Hicklin, Christopher Matusiak
    Peer Reviewed

    Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay (Quarto)

    Enter Margaret the faire mayd of Fresingfield, with Thomas
    355 and Ione, and other clownes: Lacie disguised in countrie
    Thomas. By my troth Margret heeres a wether is able to
    make a man call his father whorson, if this wether hold wee shall
    haue hay good cheape, and butter and cheese at Harlston will
    360beare no price.
    Margret. Thomas, maides when they come to see the faire,
    Count not to make a cope for dearth of hay,
    When we haue turnd our butter to the salt,
    And set our cheese safely vpon the rackes.
    365Then let our fathers prise it as they please,
    We countrie sluts of merry Fresingfield,
    Come to buy needlesse noughts to make vs fine,
    And looke that yong-men should be francke this day,
    And court vs with such fairings as they can.
    370Phaebus is blythe and frolicke lookes from heauen,
    As when he courted louely Semele:
    Swearing the pedlers shall haue emptie packs,
    If that faire wether may make chapmen buy.
    Lacie. But louely Peggie Semele is dead,
    375And therefore Phaebus from his pallace pries,
    And seeing such a sweet and seemly saint,
    Shewes all his glories for to court your selfe.
    Margret. This is a fairing gentle sir indeed,
    To sooth me vp with such smooth flatterie,
    380But learne of me your scoffes to broad before:
    Well Ione our bewties must abide their iestes,
    We serue the turne in iolly Fresingfield.
    Ione. Margret, a farmers daughter for a farmers sonne,
    I warrant you the meanest of vs both,
    385Shall haue a mate to leade vs from the Church:
    But Thomas whats the newes? what in a dumpe.
    Giue me your hand, we are neere a pedlers shop,
    Out with your purse we must haue fairings now.
    Thomas. Faith Ione and shall, Ile bestow a fairing on you, and
    390then we will to the Tauern, and snap off a pint of wine or two.
    All this while Lacie whispers Margret in the eare.
    Margret. Whence are you sir, of Suffolke, for your tearmes
    are finer than the common sort of men?
    Lacie. Faith louely girle, I am of Beckles by,
    395Your neighbour not aboue six miles from hence,
    A farmers sonne that neuer was so quaint,
    But that he could do courtesie to such dames:
    But trust me Margret I am sent in charge,
    From him that reueld in your fathers house,
    400And fild his Lodge with cheere and venison,
    Tyred in greene, he sent you this rich purse:
    His token, that he helpt you run your cheese,
    And in the milkhouse chatted with your selfe.
    Margret. To me, you forget your selfe.
    405Lacie. Women are often weake in memorie.
    Margret. Oh pardon sir, I call to mind the man,
    Twere little manners to refuse his gift,
    And yet I hope he sends it not for loue:
    For we haue little leisure to debate of that.
    410Ione. What Margret blush not, mayds must haue their
    Thomas. Nay by the masse she lookes pale as if she were
    Richard. Sirha are you of Beckls? I pray how dooth good-
    415man Cob, my father bought a horse of him, Ile tell you Marget,
    a were good to be a gentlemans iade, for of all things the foule
    hilding could not abide a doongcart.
    Margret. How different is this farmer from the rest,
    That earst as yet hath pleasd my wandring sight,
    420His words are wittie, quickened with a smile,
    His courtesie gentle, smelling of the court,
    Facill and debonaire in all his deeds,
    Proportiond as was Paris, when in gray,
    He courted Aenon in the vale by Troy.
    425Great lords haue come and pleaded for my loue,
    Who but the keepers lasse of Fresingfield,
    And yet me thinks this Farmers iolly sonne,
    Passeth the prowdest that hath pleasd mine eye.
    But Peg disclose not that thou art in loue,
    430And shew as yet no signe of loue to him,
    Although thou well wouldst wish him for thy loue
    Keepe that to thee till time doth serue thy turne,
    To shew the greefe wherein thy heart doth burne.
    Come Ione and Thomas, shall we to the faire,
    435You Beckls man will not forsake vs now,
    Lacie. Not whilst I may haue such quaint girls as you,
    Margret. Well if you chaunce to come by Fresingfield,
    Make but a step into the keepers lodge,
    And such poore fare as Woodmen can affoord,
    440Butter and cheese, creame, and fat venison,
    You shall haue store, and welcome therewithall.
    Lacie. Gramarcies Peggie, looke for me eare long.
    Exeunt omnes.