Well, I thinke long vntill I fee my Morgan,
The gallant prince of Cambria, here arride.

Gon. And fo do I, vntill the Cornwall king
Present himselfe, to confummate my ioyes.
Peace, here, commeth my father.

Enter Leir, Perillus and others.

Leir. Ceafe, good my lords, and fue not to reuerfe Our cenfure, which is now irreuocable,

We haue dispatched letters of contract

Vnto the kings of Cambria and of Cornwall;
Our hand and feale will iuftify no lesse:
Then do not fo dishonour me, my lords,
As to make shipwrack of our kingly word.
I am as kind as is the pellican,

That kils it felfe, to faue her young ones liues:
And yet as ielous as the princely eagle,
That kils her young ones, if they do but dazell
Vpon the radiant fplendor of the funne.
Within this two dayes I expect their coming.

Enter kings of Cornwall and Cambria.

But in good time, they are arriu'd already.
This hafte of yours, my lords, doth testify
The feruent loue you beare vnto my daughters :
And think your felues as welcome to king Leir,
As euer Pryams children were to him.

Corn. My gracious lord, and father too, I hope,
Pardon, for that I made no greater haste :
But were my horse as swift as was my will,
I long ere this had feene your maiefty.

Cam. No other fcufe of abfence can I frame,

Then

Then what my brother hath inform'd your grace:
For our vndeferued welcome, we do vowe,
Perpetually to reft at your commaund.

Corn. But you, fweet loue, illuftrious Gonorill,
The regent, and the foueraigne of my foule,
Is Cornwall welcome to your excellency?

Gon. As welcome, as Leander was to Hero,
Or braue Aeneas to the Carthage queene:
So and more welcome is your grace to me.

Cam. O, may my fortune proue no worse then his,
Since heauens do know, my fancy is as much.
Deare Ragan, fay, if welcome vnto thee,

All welcomes elfe will little comfort me.

Rag. As gold is welcome to the couetous eye, As fleepe is welcome to the traueller,

As is fresh water to fea-beaten men,

Or moyftned showres vnto the parched ground,
Or any thing more welcomer then this,

So and more welcome louely Morgan is.

Leir. What refteth then, but that we confummate, The celebration of thefe nuptiall rites?

My kingdome I do equally deuide.

Princes, draw lots, and take your chaunce as falles.

Thefe I refigne as freely vnto you,

Then they draw lots.

As earft by true fucceffion they were mine.
And here I do freely difpoffeffe my felfe,
And make you two my true adopted heyres:
My felfe will foiorne with my fonne of Cornwall,
And take me to my prayers and my beades.
I know, my daughter Ragan will be forry,
Because I do not spend my dayes with her:
Would I were able to be with both at once;
They are the kindeft gyrles in Christendome.

Per.

Per. I haue bin filent all this while, my lord,
To fee if any worthyer then my felfe,

Would once haue spoke in poore Cordellaes caufe:
But loue or feare tyes filence to their toungs.
Oh, heare me fpeake for her, my gracious lord,
Whose deeds haue not deferu'd this ruthleffe doome,
As thus to difinherit her of all.

Leir. Vrge this no more, and if thou loue thy life:
I say, she is no daughter, that doth scorne
To tell her father how the loueth him.
Who euer fpeaketh hereof to mee agayne,
I will efteeme him for my mortall foe.
Come, let vs in, to celebrate with ioy,
The happy nuptialls of thefe louely payres.

Exeunt omnes, manet Perillus.

Per. Ah, who fo blind, as they that will not fee The neere approch of their owne misery?

Poore lady, I extremely pitty her:

And whileft I liue, eche drop of my heart blood,
Will I ftrayne forth, to do her any good.

Exit.

Enter the Gallian king, and Mumford, disguised like pilgrims.

Mum. My lord, how do you brook this Brittish ayre
King. My lord? I told you of this foolish humour,

And bound you to the contrary, you knɔw.

Mum. Pardon me for once, my lord; I did forget.
King. My lord agayne? then let's haue nothing else,

And fo be tane for fpyes, and then tis well.

?

Mum. Swounds, I could bite my toung in two for anger: For Gods fake name yourfelfe fome proper name.

King. Call me Trefillus: Ile call thee Denapoll.
Mum. Might I be made the monarch of the world,

I could not hit vpon thefe names, I fweare.

King. Then call me Will, Ile call thee Iacke.

Mum. Well, be it fo, for I haue well deferu'd to be cal'd Iack.

King. Stand clofe; for here a Brittish lady cōmeth :

Enter Cordella.

A fayrer creature ne're mine eyes beheld.
Cord. This is a day of ioy vnto my fisters,
Wherein they both are maried vnto kings;
And I, by byrth, as worthy as themfelues,
Am turnd into the world, to feeke my fortune.
How may I blame the fickle queene of chaunce,
That maketh me a patterne of her power?
Ah, poore weake mayd, whose imbecility
Is far vnable to indure these brunts.
Oh, father Leir, how dost thou wrong thy child,
Who alwayes was obedient to thy will!
But why accufe I fortune and my father?
No, no, it is the pleasure of my God:
And I do willingly imbrace the rod.

King. It is no goddeffe; for fhe doth complayne
On fortune, and th'vnkindneffe of her father.
Cord. These coftly robes ill fitting my estate,

I will exchange for other meaner habit.

Mum. Now if I had a kingdome in my hands,

I would exchange it for a milkmaids fmock and petycoate,
That she and I might shift our clothes together.
Cord. I will betake me to my threed and needle,

Aud earne my liuing with my fingers ends.

Mum. O braue! God willing, thou fhalt haue my cuftome. By fweet S. Denis, here I fadly fweare,

For all the shirts and night-geare that I weare.
Cord. I will professe and vow a maydens life.

Mum. The I proteft thou shalt not haue my cuftom.

King. I can forbeare no longer for to speak :

For if I do, I think my heart will breake.

Mum Sblood, Wil, I hope you are not in loue with my sepster.

King. I am in fuch a laborinth of loue,

As that I know not which way to get out.

Mum. You'l ne're get out, valeffe you first get in.
King. I prithy lacke, croffe not my paffions.
Mum. Prithy Wil, to her, and try her patience.
King. Thou fairest creature, whatsoere thou art,
That euer any mortall eyes heheld,

Vouchsafe to me, who haue o'reheard thy woes,
To fhew the cause of these thy fad laments.

Cor. Ah pilgrims, what auailes to fhew the cause,
When there's no meanes to find a remedy?

King. To vtter griefe, doth ease a heart o'recharg'd. Cor. To touch a fore, doth aggrauate the payne. King. The filly moufe, by vertue of her teeth, Releas'd the princely lyon from the net.

Cor. Kind palmer, which fo much defir'ft to heare

The tragick tale of my vnhappy youth:

Know this in briefe, I am the hapleffe daughter
Of Leir, sometimes king of Brittany.

King. Why, who debarres his honourable age,

From being ftill the king of Brittany?

Cor. None, but himselfe hath difpoffeft himselfe, And giuen all his kingdome to the kings

Of Cornwall and of Cambria, with my fifters.

King. Hath he giuen nothing to your louely felfe?

Cor. He lou'd me not, and therfore gaue me nothing,

Only because I could not flatter him :

And in this day of tryumph to my fifters,
Doth fortune tryumph in my ouerthrow.

King Sweet lady, fay there fhould come a king,

As