_Miles._ 'Tis no matter, I am against you with the old proverb--"The more the fox is curst[226] the better he fares." God be with you, sir; I'll take but a book in my hand, a wide-sleeved gown on my back, and a crowned cap on my head, and see if I can want promotion. [_Exit._ _Bacon._ Some fiend or ghost haunt on thy weary steps, Until they do transport thee quick to hell: For Bacon shall have never merry day, To lose the fame and honour of his Head. [_Exit._ SCENE II.--_At Court._ _Enter the_ EMPEROR, _the_ KING OF CASTILE, KING HENRY, ELINOR, PRINCE EDWARD, LACY, _and_ RALPH SIMNELL. _Emp._ Now, lovely prince, the prime of Albion's wealth, How fare the Lady Elinor and you? What, have you courted and found Castile fit To answer England in equivalence? Will 't be a match 'twixt bonny Nell and thee? _P. Edw._ Should Paris enter in the courts of Greece, And not lie fetter'd in fair Helen's looks? Or Phœbus scape those piercing amorets, That Daphne glancèd at his deity? Can Edward, then, sit by a flame and freeze, Whose heat puts Helen and fair Daphne down? Now, monarchs, ask the lady if we gree. _K. Hen._ What, madam, hath my son found grace or no? _Elin._ Seeing, my lord, his lovely counterfeit, And hearing how his mind and shape agreed, I came not, troop'd with all this warlike train, Doubting of love, but so affectionate, As Edward hath in England what he won in Spain. _K. of Cast._ A match, my lord; these wantons needs must love: Men must have wives, and women will be wed: Let's haste the day to honour up the rites. _Ralph._ Sirrah Harry, shall Ned marry Nell? _K. Hen._ Ay, Ralph; how then? _Ralph._ Marry, Harry, follow my counsel: send for Friar Bacon to marry them, for he'll so conjure him and her with his necromancy, that they shall love together like pig and lamb whilst they live. _K. of Cast._ But hearest thou, Ralph, art thou content to have Elinor to thy lady? _Ralph._ Ay, so she will promise me two things. _K. of Cast._ What's that, Ralph? _Ralph._ That she will never scold with Ned, nor fight with me.--Sirrah Harry, I have put her down with a thing unpossible. _K. Hen._ What's that, Ralph? _Ralph._ Why, Harry, didst thou ever see that a woman could both hold her tongue and her hands? No! but when egg-pies grow on apple-trees, then will thy grey mare prove a bag-piper. _Emp._ What say the Lord of Castile and the Earl of Lincoln, that they are in such earnest and secret talk? _K. of Cast._ I stand, my lord, amazèd at his talk, How he discourseth of the constancy Of one surnam'd, for beauty's excellence, The Fair Maid of merry Fressingfield. _K. Hen._ 'Tis true, my lord, 'tis wondrous for to hear; Her beauty passing Mars's paramour, Her virgin's right as rich as Vesta's was: Lacy and Ned have told me miracles. _K. of Cast._ What says Lord Lacy? shall she be his wife?