The Famous History of Sir Thomas Wyat With the Coronation of Queen Mary and the coming in of King Philip |
 | The Famous History of Sir Thomas Wyat |  |
Suff:
How fares the King, my Lord? speakes he cheerely?
Nor:
Euen as a dying man, whose life
Like to quicke lighting, which is no sooner seene, but is extinct.
Suff:
Is the Kings will confirm'd?
Nor:
I, thats the point that we leuel at.
But oh, the confirmation of that will, tis all, tis all.
Suff:
That will confirme my Daughter Queene.
Nor.
Right, & my Sonne is marryed to your daughter.
My Lord, in an euen plaine way, I will
Deriue the Crowne vnto your Daughters head.
What though the King hath left behinde,
Two Sisters, lawfull and immediate heires,
To succeed him in his Throane Lyes it not
In our powers to contradict it?
Haue we not the King and Counsels hands vnto it?
Tut, wee stand high in mans opinion,
And the worldes broad eye.
Suff.
Heere comes Sir Thomas Wyat.
Nor:
Sir Thomas booted and spur'd, whether away so fast?
Wiat.
It bootes me not to stay,
When in this land rebellion beares such sway.
Gods will, a Court! Tis chang'd
Since Noble Henries daies.
You haue set your handes vnto a will.
A will you well may call it:
So wils Northumberland:
So wils great Suffolke,
Against Gods will, to wrong those Princely Maides.
Nor.
Will you not subscribe your hand with others of
the Lords?
Not with me, that in my handes,
Surprise the Soueraigntie?
Wyat.
Ile damb'd my soule for no man, no for no man,
who at doomes day must answere for my sinne:
Not you, nor you my Lordes,
Who nam'de Queene Iane in noble Henries daies,
Which of you all durst once displace his issue?
My Lords, my Lords, you whet your kniues so sharp,
To carue your meate,
That they will cut your fingars.
The strength is weakenesse that you builde vpon,
The King is sicke, God mend him, I, God mend him:
But were his soule from his pale body free,
Adieu my Lords, the Court no court for me.
Exit Wyat.
North.
Farwell, I feare thee not.
The Fly is angrie, but hee wants a sting,
And all the Counsell: onely this peruerse
And peeuish Lord, hath onely deny'd his hand
To the inuesting of your princely Daughter.
Hee's idle, and wants power.
Our Ocean shall these petty brookes deuoure,
Enter Doctor.
Suff:
How fares his Highnesse?
Doct:
His body is past helpe.
We haue left our practice to the Diuines,
That they may cure his soule
Aru:
Past phisickes helpe, why then past hope of life,
Heere comes his Highnesse Preacher:
Life reuerent man.
Enter Preacher.
Pre.
Life, life, though death his body doe disseuer,
Our King liues with the King of heauen for euer.
Nor.
Dead! send for Heralds, call me Purseuants,
Wher's the King at armes? in euerie market towne
Proclaime Queene Iane.
Suff.
Best to take the opinion of the Counsell.
Nort.
You are too timorous. We in our selues
Are power sufficient: the King being dead.
This hand shall place the crowne
On Queene Ianes head.
Trumpets and Drums, with your notes resound,
Her royal name, that must in state be crown'd
Exeūt Om
Enter Guilford and Iane.
Guil:
Our Cousen King is dead.
Ian:
Alasse, how small an Vrne containes a King?
He that ruld all, euen with his princely breath,
Is forc'd to stoope now to the stroake of death.
Heard you not the proclamation?
Gui:
I heare of it, and I giue credit to it
What great men feare to be,
Their feares grow greater.
Our Fathers grow ambitious
And would force vs saile in mightie tempests,
And are not Lordes of what they doe possesse.
Are not thy thoughts as great?
I haue no thoughts so ranke, so growne to head,
As are our Fathers pride.
Troth I doe inioy a Kingdome hauing thee.
And so my paine be prosperous in that,
What care I though a Sheep-cote be my Pallace
Or fairest roofe of honour.
Gui.
See how thy blood keepes course with mine:
Thou must be a Queene, aye me! a Queene,
The flattering belles that shrilly sound
At the Kings funerall with hollow heartes,
Will cowardly call thee Soueraigne:
For indeed thou wouldst prooue but an Vsurper.
Ian,
Who would weare fetters though they were all of golde?
Or to be sicke, though his faint browes
For a wearing Night-cap, wore a Crowne.
Thou must assume, a tytle that goes on many feet,
But tis an office, wherein the heartes of Schollers,
And of Souldiers will depend vppon thy Hearse.
Were this rightly scand,
Wee scarce should finde a King in any Land.
Enter Arundell.
Arun.
Honor and happy reigne
Attend the new Maiestie of England.
Ian:
To whome my Lord bends this your aue.
Arun.
To your grace dread Soueraigne,
You are by the Kings will, and the consent
Of all the Lords, chosen for our Queene.
Ian:
O God! me thinkes you sing my death,
In parts of musickes lowdnes,
Tis not my turne to rise.
Enter Northumberland, Suffolke with the Purse and the Mace, with others.
Nor:
The voice of the whole Land-speakes in my tongue
It is concluded your Maiestie must ride,
From hence vnto the Tower: there to stay
Vntill your Coronation.
O God!
Suff.
Why sighes your Maiestie?
Ian:
My Lord and Father, I pray tell me,
Was your Fathers Father ere a King?
Suff.
Neuer, and it like your grace.
Ian.
Would I might still continue of his lyne,
Not trauell in the cloudes.
It is often seene, the heated blood
That couets to be royall, leaues off ere it be noble,
My learned carefull King, what must we goe?
Gui.
We must.
Ian.
Then it must be so.
Nor.
Set forward then.
A dead march, and passe round the stage, and Guilford speakes.
The Towre will be a place of ample state,
Some lodgings in it, will like dead mens souls,
Remember vs of frailty.
Gui.
We are led with pompe to prison,
O propheticke soule.
Lo we ascend into our chaires of State,
Like funerall Coffins, in some funerall
Pompe descending to their graues. But we must on.
How can we fare well, to keep our Court:
Where Prisoners keepe their caue?
A florish. Exeunt Omnes.
Enter Queene Mary with a Prayer Booke in her hand, like a Nun.
Mary.
Thus like a Nun, not like a Princesse borne,
Descended from the Royall Henries loynes:
Liue I inuirond in a house of stone,
My Brother Edward liues in pompe and state,
I in a mansion here all ruinate.
Their rich attire, delicious banquetting:
Their seuerall pleasures, all their pride and honour,
The Golden Mines of wealthy India,
Is all as drosse compared to thy sweetnesse.
Thou art the ioy, and comfort of the poore,
The euerlasting blisse in thee we finde.
This little volume inclosed in this hand,
Is richer then the Empire of this land.
Enter Sir Henry Beningfield.
Ben.
Pardon me Madam, that so boldly
I presse into your Chamber. I salute your
Highnesse with the high stile of Queene.
Mar.
Queene! may it be?
Or iest you at my lowring miserie.
Ben:
Your Brother King is dead,
And you the catholicke Queene must now succede.
Mar.
I see my God, at length hath heard my prayer.
You Sir Harry, for your glad tydings,
Shall be held in honour and due regard.
Enter sir Thomas Wyat
Wiat.
Health to the Lady Mary.
Mar.
And why not Queene, Sir Thomas?
Wia:
Aske that of Suffolke duke, & great Northumberland.
Who in your steede hath Crown'd another.
Mar:
another Queene, Sir Thomas wee aliue,
The true immediate heires of our dread Father?
Wia:
Nothing more true then that:
Nothing more true then you are the true heire,
Come leaue this Cloyster and be seene abroad,
Your verie sight will stirre the peoples heatts,
and make them cheerely, for Queene Maries crie.
One comfort I can tell you: the tenants of the Dukes
Northumberland and Suffolke denide their ayde,
In these vnlawfull armes: to all the Counsell
I denide my hand, and for King Henries Issue still will stand.
Your Counsel, good sir Thomas, is so pithy
That I am woon so like it.
Wia:
Come let vs streight from hence,
From Framingham:
Cheere your spirits.
Ile to the Dukes at Cambridge, and discharge them all:
Prosper me God in these affaires,
I lou'd the Father wel, I lou'd the Sonne,
And for the Daughter I through death will run.
Exeunt Omnes.
Enter Northumberland, Suffolke, Bret and souldiers.
Nor.
wher's Captaine Bret?
Bre:
Heere my Lord.
Suff:
Are all our numbers full?
Bre:
They are my Lord.
Suff:
See them arain'd, I will set forward steright.
Nor:
Honorable friends, and natiue peeres,
That haue chosen me to be the leader of these martiall
troopes, to march against the sister
Of our late dead Soueraigne.
Beare witnesse of my much vnwillingnesse,
In furthering these attemps,
I rather ioy to thinke vpon our ancient victories
Against the French and Spaniard,
Whose high pride we seueld with the waues of brittish shore
Dying the hauen of Brit, with guiltie blood,
Till all the Harbor seem'd a sanguine poole:
Or we desire these armes, we are now to warre
Gainst the perfidious northern enemie,
Who trembling at our first shocke voice and sight,
Like cowards turn'd their backes with shamefull flight
But those rich spoiles are past: we are now to goe,
Being natiue friends, against a natiue foe.
In your hands we leaue the Queene elected,
She hath seisure of the Tower,
Your selues true liege men to her highnesse
She no doubt, with royall fauour will remunerate
The least of your desertes. Farwell
My teares into your bosomes fall,
With one imbrace I doe include you all.
Aru:
My Lord most lou'd with what a mourning heart
I take your farwell, let the after signes
Of my imployment witnesse I protest.
Did not the sacred person of my Queene,
Whose weale I tender as my soules cheefe blisse,
Vrge my abode, I would not thinke it shame
To traile a pike where you were generall.
But wishes are in vaine, I am bound to stay,
And vrgent businesse calls your grace away.
See, on my knees I humbly take my leaue,
And steep my wordes with teares.
Nor.
Kinde Arundell, I bind thee to my loue.
Once more farwell.
Arun.
Heauens giue your grace successe.
Commend vs to the Queene and to your Sonne,
Within one weeke, I hope war will be done.
Bre.
Come my Lords, shall vs march.
Exit. Northumb.
Nor:
I, I, for Gods sake on.
Tis more then time my friendes, that we were gone.
Exeunt Omnes.
Enter Treasurer and Porter.
Tre:
What ho Porter! open the gate.
Por.
I beseech your honour to pardon me,
The Counsell hath giuen strict commaund
Not any shall passe this way.
Tre.
Why you idle fellow, am I not sent vppon the
Queenes affaires, commanded by the Lords? and know
you not that I am Treasurer? come open the Gate, you
doe you know not what.
Por.
Well my Lord, I doe aduenture on your word.
Besides, may be my heauie enemies,
But goe a Gods name, I the worst will proue,
And if I die, I die for him I loue.
Tre.
I thanke thee, and will warrant thee from death.
Is my Horse ready?
Por:
It is my Lord
Tre:
Then will I flie this fearefull Counsell boord,
Exit Tre.
Por:
My heart misgiues me, I haue done amisse,
Yet being a Counsellor one of the number
Nothing can prooue amisse.
Now shall I know the worst.
Heere comes my Lord of Arundell.
Enter Arundell.
Arun:
Porter, Did the Lord Treasurer passe this way?
Por:
But now my gratious Lord.
Arun:
Vngratious Villaine, follow,
Bring him backe againe,
If not, by faire meanes bring him backe by force:
And heare you sirra, as you goe, will the Lord Maior and
some Aldermen of his Bretheren, and some especiall
Citttzens of note, to attend our further pleasures
presently. The Treasurer fled: the Duke is but newly arrested,
some purpose, on my life, to crosse their plots:
weele set strong watches, see Gates and walles well
mand: tis ten to one but princely innocence,
Is these strange turmoiles wisest violence.
Enter Winchester, Arundell, and other Lords: the Lord Treasurer kneeling at the Counsell Table.
Arun:
Though your attempt, Lord Treasurer be such,
That hath no colour in these troublous times,
But an apparant purpose of reuolt,
Yet, for you are a Counsellor of note,
One of our number, and of high degree,
Before we any way presume to iudge,
We giue you leaue to speake in your behalfe.
Tre.
My Lord, the businesse of these troublous times,
Binding vs al, still to respect the good of common weale:
Yet doth it not debar priuate regard of vs & of our own
The generall weale is treasur'd in your brest,
And all my ablest powers haue bin imployed
To stir them there, yet haue I borne a part,
Laying the commons troubles next my heart,
My ouersight in parting without leaue:
Was no contempt, but onely for an houre.
To order home affaires, that none of mine,
In these nice times should vnto faction clime.
Aru.
Nay my good Lord, be plaine with vs, I pray,
Are you not griue'd that we haue giuen consent
To Lady Ianes election?
Trea.
My Lords I am not,
Arun.
Speake like a Gentleman, vpon your word
Are you not discontent?
Tre.
Troth to be plaine, I am not pleas'd,
That two such princely Maides lineally descended,
From our royall King, and by his testimonie,
Confirmed heyre, if that their Brother dying Issules,
And one that neuer dream't, it neuer desired
The rule of Soueraignetie,
But with virgins teares hath oft bewaild her miserie,
Should politickly by vs be nam'd a Queene.
Arun.
You haue said nobly, sit and take your place.
Enter Porter.
Por.
My Lords, Sir Thomas Wyat craues accesse vnto
your honours.
Arun.
Let him come neare.
Por.
Roume for Sir Thomas Wyat.
Wiat.
A diuine spirit teach your honours truth,
Open your eyes of iudgement to beholde
The true Legitimate, Mary your vndoubted soueraigne.
Arun.
Arise sir Thomas, sit and take your place.
Now to our former businesse:
The obligation wherein we all stood bound
To the deceased late Kings will and our decree,
His cousen Iane, and the two absent Dukes
Cannot be conceal'd without great reproach
To vs and to our Issue.
We haue sworn in presence of the sacred host of heauen
Vnto our late young Lord, to both the Dukes,
That no impeachment should diuert our heartes
From the impeachment of the Lady Iane.
To this end we haue ceased her in the tower,
By publike proclamation made her Queene:
To this end we haue armed the Duke, with power
Giuen them commission vnder our owne handes
To passe against the Lady. You performe in hostile maner
And no doubt, the spleene of the vndanted spirit
Of Northumbers Earle, will not be called
With writings of repeale.
Aduice in this, I holde it better farre
To keepe the course we runne then seeking change,
Hazard our liues, our heires and the Realmes.
Wiat.
In actions roauing from the bent of truth,
We haue no persident thus to persist
But the bare name of worldly policie.
If others haue ground from Iustice, and the law,
As well diuine as politicke agreeing,
They are for no cause to be disinherited.
If you not seauen yeares since to that effect,
Swore to the Father to maintaine his seede,
What dispensation hath acquited you
Youle say, the will extorted from a childe.
O! let mine eyes in naming that sweete youth,
Obserue their part,
Powring downe teares, sent from my swelling heart.
Gods mother, I tearme childe? but ile goe on,
Say that the will were his, forced by no tricke,
But for religions loue his simple act,
Yet note how much you erre.
You were sworne before to a mans will,
and not a will alone,
But strengthned by an act of Parliament.
Besides this sacred proofe. The Princely Maides,
Had they no will nor act to prooue their right?
Haue birthrights no priuiledge, being a plea so strong,
as cannot be refeld, but by plaine wrong?
Now were you toucht. The Lady in tower,
alasse shee's innocent of my claime.
Trust me, shee'd thinks it a moste happy life,
To leaue a Queenes, and keepe a Ladies name.
And for the Dukes your warrants sent them foorth,
Let the same warrant call them backe againe.
If they refuse to come, the Realme, not they
Must be regarded. Be strong and bold:
We are the peoples factors. Saue our Sonnes
From killing one another, be affraide,
To tempt both heauen and earth, so I haue said.
Arun.
Why then giue order that she shall be Queene,
Send for the Maior, her errors wele forget,
Hoping she will forgiue.
Wiat.
Neuer make doubt, setting her ceremonious order by.
She is pure within, and mildly chast without.
Arun:
Giue order to keepe fast the Lady Iane,
Dissolue the the Counsell. Let vs leaue the Tower,
and in the Citie hold our audience.
Wyat.
You haue aduised well honorable Lordes,
and if the Dukes be crosse, weele crosse their powers.
Exeunt Omnes
Enter Bret, Clown & Souldiers.
Br:
Lance persado, quarter, quarter,
Clo:
What shall we quarter Captaine?
Bre:
Why the Souldiers?
Clo.
Why they are not hang'd nor drawn'e yet?
Bre.
Sir I meane quarter them, that the offended multitude,
may passe in safetie.
Clo.
May we not take tooles of the pies & the aple-women.
Bre.
Not in any sorte; the Dukes pleasure will passe free.
Clo.
The Cōmons shal be vsed with al cōmon curtesie
That goes in rank like beanes and cheese-cakes on their
heads in steade of Cappes.
Bre.
Sirre, this is a famous Vniuersitie, and those schollers,
those lofty buildings and goodly houses,
Founded by noble Patrons. But no more. Set
a strong watch. That be your choesest care.
Enter a Countryman and a Maide.
Man.
Whats heere Souldiers?
Bre.
Feare not, good speech, those rude armes I beare,
Ist not to fight? Sweet, gentle Peace away,
But to succour your liues, passe peaceibly away.
Clo:
Crie God saue the Queene as you goe, and God
send you a good market.
Man.
God saue the Queene, what Queen? there lies the Sense
When we haue none, it can be no offence.
Clo.
What tarry you there in your basket?
Man.
Egs forsooth.
Clo.
Well, crie God saue Queene Iane as you goe, and
God send you a good Market.
Man.
Is the right Queene called Iane? a lacke for woe,
at the first she was not christened so.
Exit.
Br.
Thus olde and young, still descant on her name,
Nor lend no eare, when wee her stile proclaime.
I feare, I feare, Fear Bret, what shouldst thou feare?
Thou hast a brest compos'd of adamant.
and I in Harbor ride.
Enter Northumberland and Wyat.
Wia.
My Lord tis true, you sent vnto the Counsell for
fresh supplies, what succour, what supplies? Happie is he
can draw his necke out of the coller, and make his peace
with Marie.
Nor.
How stands the Treasurer addicted to vs?
Wia:
I had forgot: when we weare at counsell,
He stole away, and went home to his house,
And by much intreatie was woon to returne,
In briefe they all incline to Queene Mary
My Lord farwell, each hastie houre.
Will coulder tydings tell.
Exit Wyat
Nor:
Come they in thunder, we will meete with them?
In the loudest language that their ordinance speakes,
Ours shall answere theirs.
Call me a Herald, and in the market place Proclaime
Queene Iane. The streetes are full,
The towne is populous, the people gape for noueltie.
Trumpets speake to them,
That they may answere with an echoning crie,
God saue Queene Iane, God saue her Maiestie.
A Trumpet sounds, and no answere. The Herald soundes a parlee, and none answers.
Nor:
Ha? a bare report of Trumpets!
Are the slaues horse, or want they arte to speake?
O me! This Towne consists on famous Colledges,
Such as know both how, and what, and when to speake,
Well, yet wee will proceede,
and smother what close enuie hath decreed.
Ambrose my Sonne, what newes?
Enter Ambrose.
Amb.
O my thrice honoured Father.
Nor:
Boy, speake the worst,
That which soundes deadlyest, let me heare that first.
The Lords haue all reuolted from your faction
Nor.
Wee in our selues are strong.
Am:
In Baynards Castle was a counsell held,
Whether the Maior and Sheriffes did resort,
And twas concluded to proclaime Queene Mary.
Nor:
Then they reuolt the alegeance from my Daughter,
and giue it to another:
Am:
True my thrice honoured Father,
Besides, my brother Guilford and his wife
Where she was proclaimde Queene, are now
close Prisoners, namely in the Tower.
Nor:
God take them to his mercie, they had neede,
Of grace and patience, for they both must bleede,
Poore Innocent soules, they both from guilt are free.
Am.
O my thrice honoured Father! might I aduise
you, flie to your manner, there studdie for your saftie.
Nor:
Boy, thou saist well,
And since the Lords haue all reuolted from me,
My selfe will now reuolt against my selfe.
Call me a Herald to fill their emptie eares,
Assist me Sonne, my good Lord Huntington,
Euen in this market Towne proclaime Queene Mary.
A trumpet soundes a parley, the Herald proclaimes.
He.
Mary by the grace of God, Queene of England,
France and Ireland, defendres of the Faith. Amen.
Within a shoute and a flourish.
Nor:
Amen, I beare a part,
I with my tongue, I doe not with my heart,
Now they can crie, now they can baule and yell,
Base minded slaues, sincke may your soules to hell.
Enter Maister Roose with Letters.
Roo.
My honored Lord, the Counsell greetes you with
these Letters.
Nor.
Stay Maister Roose, ere you depart receiue an answere
and reward.
You shal vppon the sight hereof,
Surcease your armes, discharge your Souldiers,
And presently repaire vnto the Court,
Or else to be held as an Arch-Traitor.
No.
Tis short & sharp, Maister Roose, we do obey your
warrant: but I pray tel mee, how doth all our friendes at
Court? is there not a great mortalitie amongst them?
Is there not a number of them deade of late since I came
thence?
Ro.
My gratious Lord not any.
Nor.
O maister Roose, it cannot bee, I will assure you
At my departure thence, I left liuing there at least
Fiue hundred friendes, and now I haue not one,
simply not one: friendes! ha, ha, ha, Commission
Thou must be my friend.
And stand betiwixt me and the stroake of death,
Were thy date out, my liues date were but short,
They are colde friends, that kils their friendes in sport
Am.
Heere comes your honoured friend the Earle of
Arundell.
Enter Arundell.
Nor.
My honourd friend!
Arun:
I am no friend to Traitors: in my moste high &
Princely Soueraignes name,
I doe arrest your honour of high Treason.
Nor:
A Traitor Arundell? haue I not your hand in my
commission? let me peruse it: as I tak't tis heare,
and by your warrant haue so strict proceeded.
Arun.
It may be that it hath pleased her Maiestie
To pardon vs, and for to punnish you.
I know no other reason, this I must,
I am commaunded, and the act is Iust.
Nor:
And I obey you: when we parted last
My Lord of Arundel, our farwell was
Better then our greeting now.
Now you come on me ere you say take heede:
Then you did owe me your best bloods: nay greeu'd
You could not spend them in my seruice.
O then it was a double death to stay behinde,
But I am ouertooke and you are kinde,
I am, beshrew you else, but I submit,
My crime is great, and I must answere it.
Arun.
You must with your three Sons, be guarded safe
Vnto the Tower: with you, those Lords and Knights
That in this faction did associate you,
For so I am inioyn'd.
Then peaciuely, let vs conduct you thither.
Nor.
O my Children! my soule weepes endlesse teares for you.
O at the generall Sessions, when all soules
Stand at the bar of Iustice,
And hold vp their new immortalized handes,
O then let the remembrance of their tragick endes
Be racd out of the bed-rowle of my sinnes:
When ere the black booke of my crime's vnclaspt.
Let not these scarlet Letters be found there:
Of all the rest, onely that page be cleere.
But come to my arraignement, then to death,
The Queene and you haue long aim'd at this head,
If to my Children, she sweet grace extend,
My soule hath peace, and I imbrace my end.
Exeunt.
Enter the Duke of Suffolke.
Suff.
Three daies are past Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday too
Yet my protesting seruant is not come.
Himselfe conducted me to this hard lodging,
A simple Cabin, for so great a Prince,
And then he swore, but oathes you see are vaine,
That he would hourely come and visite me:
I that was wont, to surfeit in estate,
Am now through hunger almost desolate.
Hoom.
My Lord.
Suff:
Ned Homes, speake hast thou brought me meate?
Hom:
With much a doe my Lord, meat, bread & wine,
While you refresh your selfe, I will recorde
The cause of my long stay.
Suff.
I prethee doe, neede bids me eate,
Neede bids me heare thee too.
Hom.
The night I left you in the hollow tree,
My house was searched.
Suff,
Goe on, goe on.
Hom:
And I no sooner entred but attached,
Threatned the Rack: and if I did not yeeld
Your gracious selfe into their gracelesse hands.
Suff:
And thou hast don't, thou hast betraied me.
Hom.
Done it! o be traie you? O noe!
First would I see my loued wife and Children
Murdered, and tos'd on speares, before I would
Deliuer your grace vnto their handes,
For they intend your death.
Suff:
Goe on, goe on.
Hom:
and offer'd a thousand Crownes to him that can
Bring newes of your abode, twas offer'd in my hands.
Which I beseech may stop my Vitall breath,
When I am feede with golde to worke your death.
Enter Sheriffe and Officers.
Sher:
See yonder sits the Duke.
Suff:
I kisse thee in requitall of this loue.
Hom:
and in requitall of so great a grace,
I kisse your hand that dares to kisse my face.
She:
So Iudas kist his Maister: ceaze the Duke.
Suff:
Ah me! Ned Homes we are vndone,
Both thou and I betraide.
My Lord, late Duke of Suffolke, in her highnesse
name I doe arrest you of high Treason.
Suff:
I doe obey, and onely craue this kindnesse,
You would be good vnto my Seruant Homes,
Where in releeuing me, hath but performde
The duetie of a seruant to his Lord.
She.
You are deceiu'd sir in your seruant much,
Hee is the man that did betray you.
Heere Maister Homes, towards your thousand pounds,
Heere is a hundred markes,
Come to the Exchequer, you shall haue the rest.
Suff.
Hast thou betraide me? yet with such a tongue,
so smoothly oilde, slight of my dangers feare,
Ho:
Pardon me my Lord.
Suff:
God pardon thee, and lay not to thy soule
This greeuous sinne: Farwell.
And when thou spendest this ill got golde
Remember how thy Maisters life was solde.
Thy Lord that gaue thee Lordships, made thee great,
Yet thou betraidst him as he sat at meate.
On to my graue, tis time that I were dead,
When he that held my heart betraies my head.
Hom.
O God, O God, that euer I was borne,
This deede hath made me (slaue) to abiect scorne.
Enter the Clowne.
Clo:
O poore shrimpe, how art thou falne away for
want of mouching? O Colen cries out most tirannically,
the little gut hath no mercie, whats heere vittailes? O
rare! O good! Feede chops, drinke throate, good victailes
makes good blood.
But stay, whose heere? more Sheriffes more searchers?
O no, this is Homes that betraide his honest Maister,
How, with a Halter about his necke? I hope hee doth
not meane to hang himselfe? ile step a side.
Ho.
This is the place, where I betraide my Lord,
This is the place where oft I haue releeu'd:
and villaine I, betraide him to the Iawes of death,
But heere before I further will proceede
Heere will I burie this inticing gould,
Lye there damn'd fiend neuer serue humaine more,
Clo:
This is rare, now in this moode hee would hang
himselfe twere excellent.
Ho:
Shall I aske mercie? no it is too late,
Heauen will not heare, and I am desperate.
He strangles himselfe.
Clo:
So, so, a very good ending, would all falce Seruants
might drinke of the same sauce.
To shift my selfe into some counterfeite suite
Of apparel, and then to London:
If my olde Maister be hanged, why so:
If not, why rusticke and lusticke:
Yet before I goe, I doe not care if I throwe this Dog in
a Ditch: come away dissembler: this cannot chuse but be
a hundred pound it wayes so heauy.
Enter Queene Mary, Winchester, Norfolke, Pembroke, Wiat, Arundell, Attendants.
Mary.
By Gods asistance, and the power of heauen,
after our Troubles we are safely set,
In our inheritance, for which we doe subscribe
The praise and benefit to God, next thankes
To you my Lordes. Now shall the sanctuarie,
And the house of the moste high be newly built.
The ancient honours due vnto the Church,
Shall lift their stately heads, and rise againe
To astonish the destroyers wandring eyes.
Zeale shall be deckt in golde,
Religion not like a virgin robd of all her pompe,
But briefly shining in her Iemmes of state,
Like a faire bride be offerd to the Lord.
To build large houses, pull no churches downe,
Rather in rich the Temple with our crowne.
Better a poore Queene, then the Subiects poore.
Win.
May it please your grace to giue release
Vnto such ancient Bishops that haue lost their
Honours in the church affaires.
Ma.
We haue giuen order to the Duke of Norfolke to
release them.
Aru:
Your sacred Highnesse will no doubt be minde
full of the late Oath you tooke at Framingam
Ma.
O my Lord of Arundell, wee remember that,
But shall a Subiect force his Prince to sweare
Contrarie to her conscience and the Law?
Wee heere release vnto our faithfull people,
one intire Subsidie,
Due vnto the Crowne in our dead Brothers daies.
The Commonaltie shal not be ore-burdned
In our reigne, let them be liberall in Religion,
and wee will spare their treasure to themselues:
Better a poore Prince then the Nation poore,
The Subiects Treasure, in the Soueraignes store.
Arun.
What is your Highnesse pleasure about the Rebels?
Mar.
The Queene like-Rebels,
Meane you not Queene Iane?
Arun:
Guilford and Iane, with great Northumberland,
and hauty Suffolkes Duke.
Ma:
The Duke of Suffolke is not yet apprehended,
Therefore my Lords,
Be carefull of that charge:
The rest weele leaue for tryall of the other prisoners.
Wia:
The Lady Iane most mightie Soueraigne,
Alyde to you in blood: for shes the
Daughter of your Fathers Sister.
Mary the Queene of France: Charles Brandons
Wife your Neece, your next of blood, except your sister,
Deserues some pittie, so doth youthfull Guilford.
Win.
Such pittie as the law alowes to Traitors.
Norf.
They were misled by their ambitious Fathers,
Win.
What Sonne to obey his Father proues a Traitor,
Must buy their disobedience with their death.
Wia.
My Lord of Winchester, still thirsts for blood.
Mar.
Wiat no more, the law shall be their Iudge,
Mercie to meane offenders weele ostend,
Not vnto such that dares vsurpe our Crowne.
Arun.
Count Edmond the Embassador from Spaine,
attends your highnesse answere, brought those
Letters sent from the Emperor
In his Sonnes behalfe.
Mar:
In the behalfe of louely Princely Philip,
Whose person wee haue shrined in our heart?
at the first sight of his delightfull picture
That picture should haue power to tingle
Loue in Royall brests: the Dartes of loue are wordes, pictures,
conceite, heele preuaile by any,
Arun.
I say and it like your royall Maiestie,
a royall treatie, and to be confirm'd,
and I alowe the match.
Win.
Alow it Lordes, we haue cause
To thanke our God, that such a mightie Prince
as Phillip is, Sonne to the Emperor,
Here to wealthy Spaine, and many spacious
Kingdomes, will vouchsafe—
Vouchsafe! my Lord of Winchester, pray
what?
Win.
To grace our mightie Soueraigne with his
honourable Title.
Wia.
To marrie with our Queene: meane you not
so?
Win.
I doe, what then?
Wiat.
O God! is shee a beggar, a forsaken Maide,
that she hath neede of grace from forraine princes?
By Gods deare mother, O God pardon sweare I,
Me thinkes she is a faire and louely Prince,
Her onely beautie (were she of meane birth)
Able to make the greatest Potentate,
I the great Emperor of the mightie Cham,
That hath more Nation, vnder his Commaund,
Then spanish Philip's like to inherrit townes,
To come and lay his Scepter at her feet,
And to intreate her to vouchsafe the grace
To take him and his Kingdome to her mercy.
Win.
Wyat you are too hot.
Wia:
And you to proude vouchsafe? O base!
I hope sheele not vouchsafe to take the Emperors
sonne to her deare mercie.
Mar.
Proceede my Lord of Winchester I pra'y.
Win.
Then still I say, we haue cause to thanke our God,
That such a mightie Prince will looke so lowe,
As to respect this Iland and our Queene.
Wia:
Pardon me Madam, hee respect your Iland
more then your person? thinke of that.
Norf.
Wiat, you wrong the affection of the Prince,
For he desires noe fortrises nor townes,
Nor to beare any office, rule or state,
Either by person or by Substitute.
Wiat.
What neede hee (Noble Lords) to aske the
fruite, when he demaundes the tree?
It bootes not, when the chiefest Tower of all
The key that opens vnto all the Land.
I meane our Gratious Soueraigne must be his,
But he will beare no office in the land,
And yet will marry with the Queene of all.
Nor be of counsell in the Realmes affaires,
And yet the Queene inclosed in his armes:
I doe not like this strange marriage.
The Fox is suttle, and his head once in
The slender body easily will follow.
I grant, he offers you in name of dowre,
The yearely summe of threescore thousand Duccats.
Besides, the seauenteene famous Prouinces,
And that the heire suceeding from your loynes,
Shall haue the Souereigne rule of both the Realmes.
What, shall this mooue your Highnesse to the match?
Spaine is too farre for England to inherit,
But England neare enough for Spaine to woe.
Win.
Has not the Kinges of England (good Sir Thomas)
Espous'd the Daughters of our Neighbour Kinges?
Wia.
I graunt, your predecessors oft haue sought
Their Queene from France,
And sometimes to from Spaine.
But neuer could I heare that England yet
Has bin so base, to seeke a King from either:
Win.
Tis loue great Queene, no pollicie at all.
Wiat.
Which of you all, dares iustifie this match,
And not be toucht in conscience with an oath?
Remember, O remember I beseech you,
King Henries last will, and his act at Court,
I meane that royall Court of Parliament,
That does prohibit Spaniards from the Land,
That Will and Act, to which you all are sworne,
And doe not damme your soules with periurie.
Mary.
But that wee knowe the Wyat to be true
Vnto the Crowne of England and to vs,
Thy ouer-boldnesse should bee payde with death.
But cease, for feare your liberall tongue offend,
With one consent my Lordes you like this match?
Omnes.
We doe great Soueraigne.
Mary,
Call in Count Edmond Honorable
Lords.
Wee haue determined of your Ambassie,
and thus I plight, our loue to Philips heart,
Imbarke you straight, the winde blowes wondrous faire:
Till he shall land in England, I am all care.
Exeunt all but Sir Thomas Wyat.
And ere hee land in England, I will offer
My loyall brest for him to treade vpon.
O who so forward Wyat as thy selfe,
To raise this troublesome Queene in this her Throane?
Philip is a Spaniard, a proud Nation,
Whome naturally our Countrie men abhorre.
Assist me gratious heauens, and you shall see
What hate I beare vnto their Slauerie.
Ile into Kent, there muster vp my friendes,
To saue this Countrie, and this Realme defend.
Exit Sir Thomas Wyat.
Enter Guilford, Dudley, Iane, and Liftenant.
Guil.
God morrow to the Patron of my woe.
Iane.
God morrowe to my Lord, my louely Dudley
Why doe you looke so sad my dearest Lord?
Guil.
Nay why doth Iane, thus with a heauie eye,
And a defected looke, salute the day?
Sorrow doth ill become thy siluer brow,
Sad griefe lyes dead, so long as thou liues fayre,
In my Ianes ioy, I doe not care for care.
Iane.
My lookes (my loue) is sorted with my heart,
The Sunne himselfe, doth scantly show his face.
Out of this firme grate, you may perceiue the Tower-Hill
Thronged with store of people,
As if they gap'd for some strange Noueltie.
Guil.
Though sleepe doe sildome dwell in men of care,
Yet I did this night sleepe, and this night dream't,
Was marryed to a stately Bride:
And then me thought, iust on his Bridall day,
A poysoned draught did take his life away.
Iane.
Let not fond visions so appale my Loue,
For dreames doe oftentimes contrarie prooue.
Guil.
The nights are teadious, and the daies are sad,
And see you how the people stand in heapes,
Each man sad, looking on his aposed obiect,
As if a generall passion possest them?
Their eyes doe seeme, as dropping as the Moone,
As if prepared for a Tragedie.
For neuer swarmes of people there doe tread,
But to rob life, and to inrich the dead
And shewe they wept.
Lef.
My Lord they did so, for I was there.
Gui.
I pra'y resolue vs good Maister Lieftenant
Who was it yonder, that tendered vp his life
To natures death?
Lief.
Pardon mee my Lord, tis fellony to acquaint
you with death of any Prisoner, yet to resolue
your grace, it was your Father, great Northumberland,
that this day lost his head.
Guil.
Peace rest his soule, his sinnes be buried in his graue,
And not remembred in his Epitaph: but who comes heere?
Iane.
My Father Prisoner!
Enter Suffolke garded foorth.
Suff:
O Iane! now naught but feare thy Tytle & thy state,
Had I bin contented to a bin great, I had stood,
But now my rising, is puld downe with blood.
Farwell, point me my house of prayers.
Iane.
Is greefe so short? twa's wont to be full of wordes,
Tis true, but now Deathes lesson, bids a coulde adue.
Farwell, thus friendes on desperate iourneys parte,
Breaking of wordes with teares, that swelles the heart.
Exit Suffolke.
Leef:
It is the pleasure of the Queene that you part lodgings.
Till your Arrainement, which must be to morrow.
Iane.
Good Maister Lieftenant let vs pray together.
Lief.
Pardon me Madam I may not, they that owe you, sway me.
Guil.
Intreate not Iane, though shee our bodies part,
Our soules shall meete. Farwell my loue.
Iane.
My Dudley, my owne heart.
Exeunt Omnes.
Enter Wyat with Souldiert.
UUiat:
Hold Drumme, stand Gentlemen,
Giue the word along: stand, stand:
Maisters, friendes, Souldiers, and therefore Gentlemen,
I know some of you weare warme pursses
Linde with golde, to them I speake not,
But to such leane knaues that cannot put vp
Crosses, thus I say, fight valiantly,
And by the mary God, you that haue all
Shall now get Crownes, marry they must be crackt.
Sol:
No matter, weele change them for white money.
Wiat:
But it must needs be so, deare Countriemen,
For Souldiers are the maisters of wars mint,
Blowes are the stamps, they set vpon with bullets,
And broken pates are when the braines lyes spilt:
These light crownes, that with blood are double guilt,
But thats not all, that your stout hearts shall earne,
Sticke to this glorious quarrell, and your names
Shall stand in Chronicles ranck'd euen with Kinges
You free your Countrie from base spanish thrall,
From Ignominious slauerie,
Who can disgest a Spaniard, that's a true Englishman?
Sol.
Would he might choake that disgests him.
Wiat.
Hee that loues freedome and his Countrie,
Crie a Wyat: he that will not, with my heart
Let him stand foorth, shake handes,
And weele depart.
Sol.
A Wyat, a Wyat, a Wyat.
Enter Norry sounding a Trumpet.
Har:
Forbeare, or with the breath thy Trumpet spends,
This shall let foorth thy soule.
Nor:
I am a Herald, and chalenge safetie
By the lawe of armes.
Her:
So shalt thou when thou art lawfully imploide
Wia:
What loude knaues that?
Nor:
No knaue Sir Thomas, I am a true man
to my Queene, to whome thou art a Traytor.
Knocke him downe.
VViat.
Knocke him downe, fie no,
Weele handle him, he shall sound before he goe.
Har.
Hee comes from Norfolke and those fawning
Lords in Maries name, waying out life to them
that will with basenesse burie it
Wia.
Sir George be ruld,
Since we professe the Arte of Warre,
Let's not be hist at for our ignorance,
Hee shall passe and repasse, iuggle the best he can,
Leade him into the Craie. Norry set foorth
Set foorth thy brasen throate, and call all Rochester
About thee; doe thy office, fill their.
Light heads with proclamations, doe,
Catch Fooles with Lime-twig, dipt with pardons.
But Sir George and good sir Harty Isley,
If this Gallant open his mouth too wide,
Powder the Varlet, pistoll him, fire the Roofs that's ore his mouth
He craues the law of Armes, and he shall ha't,
Teach him our law, to cur's throate if he prate
If lowder reach thy Proclamation,
The Lord haue mercie vppon thee.
Nor.
Sir Thomas, I must doe my office.
Har:
Come, weele doe ours too,
VVia.
I, I, doe, blowe thy selfe hence
Exit. Harper, Isely, and Norry.
Whorson proud Herrald, because he can
giue armes, he thinkes to cut vs off by the elbowes.
Maisters and fellow Souldiers, say, wil you leaue old Tom Wiat?
Omnes.
No, no, no.
Wia.
A March! tis Norfolkes Drum vpon my life
Within crie arme.
The word is giuen, arme, arme flies through the camp
As loude, though not so full of dread as thunder:
For no mans cheekes looke pale, but euerie face,
Is lifted vp aboue his foremans head,
And euerie Souldier does on tipstoe stand,
shaking a drawne sword in his threatning hand.
Wiat:
At whome, at whose Drum?
Rod:
At Norfolke, Norfolkes Drum:
With him comes Arundell, you may beholde
The silken faces of their ensignes showe,
Nothing but wrinckles stragling in the winde,
Norfolke rides formostly, his crest well knowne,
Proud, as if all our heads were now his owne.
Wiat:
Soft, he shall pay more for them.
Sir Robert Rodston, bring our Muscateers,
To Hancke our Pikes, les all our archery,
Fall off in winges of shot a both sides of the van,
To gall the first Horse of the enemie
That shall come fiercely on:
Our Canoneres, bid them to charge, charge my harts.
Omnes.
Charge, charge.
UUiat:
Saint George for England, Wiat for poore Kent,
Blood lost in Countties quarrell, is nobly spent.
Isely:
Base slaue, hard hearted fugitue,
He that you sent with Norry, false sir George
Is fled to Norfolke.
Rod:
Sir George Harper fled?
Wiat.
I nere thought better of a Counter seite,
His name was Harper, was it not? let him goe,
Hence foorth all Harpers for his sake shall stand,
But for plaine nine pence, throughout all the land.
Be Englishmen and berd them to their faces.
Exeunt
Enter Norfolke, Arundell, Bret and Souldiers.
Norf.
Yonder the Traitor marcheth with a steele bowe.
Bent on his Souereigne, and his kingdomes peace:
To waue him to vs with a flag of truce,
And tender him soft mercie,
Were to call our right in question,
Therefore put in act, your resolute intendments,
If rebellion be suffered to take head,
She liues too long, treason doth swarme.
Therefore giue signall to the fight,
Bre.
Tis good, tis good, my Lord.
Norf.
Where's Captaine Bret?
Br.
Heere my Lord.
Norf:
To doe honour to you and those fiue hundred
Londoners that march after your colours,
You shall charge the Traitor in the Vantgard
Whilst my selfe with noble Arundell
And stout Iarningam, second you in the maine.
God and Saint George, this day fight on our side.
While thus we tame a desperate Rebels pride.
Exit all but Bret and souldierr.
Br:
Countrimen and friendes,
And you the moste valiant sword and Buckler-Men
of London, the Duke of Norfolk in honour has
promoted you to the Vangard, and why to the Vangard?
but because he knowes you to be eager men,
marttal men, men of good stomacks, verie hot shots,
verie actious for valour, such as scornes to shrink for
a wetting, who wil beare off any thing with head and
shoulders.
Well forwards, good commaunder forwards,
Br.
I am to lead you, & whether? to fight: and with
whome? with Wyat: and what is Wyat? a moste famous
and Arch-Traytor, to nobody by this hand
that I knowe.
Omnes:
Nay, speake out good Captaine.
Bre:
I say again, is worthy Norfolke gone?
Omnes:
I, I, gon, gon.
Bre:
I say agen, that Wyat for rising thus,
In armes with the Kentishmen dangling thus at his
taile, is worthy to be hang'd like a Iuell in the Kingdomes
eare, say I well my Lads?
Omnes:
Forwards, forwards.
Bret:
And whosoeuer cuts off his head shall haue for
his labour—
Clo:
What shall I haue? ile doote.
Bre:
The pox, the plague, and all the deseases, the
Spittle-houses and Hospitalles can throwe vppon
him.
Clo.
Ile not doo't, thats flat.
Bre:
And wherefore is Wyat vp?
Clo:
Because he cannot keepe his bed.
Bre:
No, Wyat is vp to keepe the Spaniards down,
to keepe King Phillip out, whose comming in will
giue the Land such a Phillip, twill make it reele agen.
Clo:
A would it were come to that wee would, wee
wold leaue off Philips and fall to Hot-cockles.
Bre:
Philip is a Spaniard, and what is a Spaniard?
Clo:
A Spaniard is no Englishman that I knowe.
Bre:
Right, a Spaniard is a Camocho, a Callimanco,
nay which is worse, a Dondego, and what is a
Dondego?
A Dondego is a kinde of Spanish Stockfish,
or poore Iohn.
Bre.
No, a Dondego is a desperate Viliago, a very
Castilian, God blesse vs.
There came but one Dundego into England, & hee
made all Paules stincke agen, what shall a whole army
of Dondegoes doe my sweete Countrimen?
Clo:
Marry they will make vs all smell abhominably,
hee comes not heere that's flat.
Bre.
A Spaniard is cald so, because hee's a Spaniard
his yard is but a span.
Clo:
That's the reason our English women loue
them not.
Bre:
Right, for he caries not the Englishmans yard about
him, if you deale with him looke for hard measure:
if you giue an inch hee'le take an ell til he giue
an ell, heele take an inch. Therefore my fine, spruce,
dapper, finicall, fellowes, if you are now, as you
haue alwaies bin, counted politique Londiners, to fly
to the stronger side, leaue Arundell, leaue Norfolke,
and loue Bret.
Clo:
Weele fling our flat Caps at them.
Bret.
Weare your owne Neates leathers shooes!
Scorn Spanish Leather, crie a figge for the Spaniards:
(saide I) well bollies?
Omnes.
I, I, I.
Bre:
Why then fiat, fiat, and euerie man dye at his
foote, that cries not a Wyat, a Wyat.
Omnes.
A Wyat, Wyat, a Wyat.
Enter Wyat.
Wiat.
Sweete musicke, Gallant fellow-Londiners.
Yfaith wee are the Mad caps, we are the lickepennies.
Wiat.
You shall be all Lord Maiores at least,
Exeunt Wyat, Bret and Souldiers.
Alarum soundes, and enter Wyat, Bret, Rodston, Isely, and Souldiers againe.
Wiat.
Those eight brasse peeces shall doe seruice
now against their Maisters Norfolke and Arundell,
They may thank their heeles more then their hands
for sauing of their liues,
God helpe poore farmers.
Souldiers and friends, let vs all play nimble bloud-
Houndes, and hunt them step by step,
We heare the Lawyers plead in Armour steede of
Gownes, if they fall out about the cases they Iar,
Then they may cuffe each other from the Bar.
Soft, this is Ludgate, stand aloofe, ile knock.
He knockes.
Enter Pembroke vpon the Walles.
Pem.
Who knockes?
Wiat.
A Wyat, a true friend,
Open your gates, you louring Citizens,
I bring you freedome, from a forraine Prince,
The Queene has heard your suite,
And tis her pleasure the Cutie gates,
Stand open to receiue vs.
Pem.
Avaunt thou Traitor, thinkes thou by forgerie
To enter London with rebellious armes?
And it shall cost the liues of twentie thousand true
subiects to the Queene before a Traytor enters.
Omnes:
Shoote him through.
Wia:
Stay, lets know him first.
Clo:
Kill him, then lets know him afterwards.
Pem:
Looke on my face, and blushing, see with
shame thy treasons Charecter'd.
Bre:
Tis the Lord Pembroke.
Wiat:
What haue wee to doe with the Lord Pembroke,
wheres the Queenes Lieftenant?
Pem:
I am Lieftenant of the Citie now.
Wiat:
Are you Lord Maior?
Pem:
The greatest Lord that breathes enters not
heere, without expresse commaund from my deare
Queene.
Wiat.
She commaundes hy vs.
Pem:
I doe commaund thee in her highnesse name,
To leaue the Cittie gates, or by my honour,
A peece of ordinance shall be straite dischargd,
To be thy deathes man, & shoote thee to thy graue.
Wya.
Then heer's no entrance.
Pemb:
No, none.
Exit Pembroke.
Bre:
What should wee doe following Wyat anye longer.
Wiat.
O London, London, thou perfidious Town,
Why hast thou broke, thy promise to thy friend?
That for thy sake, and for thy generall sake,
Hath thrust my selfe into the mouth of danger?
March backe to Fleet-streete, if that Wyat die,
London vniustlie, buy thy treacherie.
Bre:
Wold I could steale away from Wyat, it should
be the first thing that I would doe,
Wheres all my Souldiers? what all gone,
And left my Drum and colours without guard?
O infilicitie of carefull men!
Yet will I sell my honoured blood as deere,
As euer did faithfull subiect to his Prince.
Exit Wyat.
Enter Norfolke & Iseley.
Isl.
Pembroke reuolts, and flies to Wyats side.
Norf:
Hee's damb'd in hell that speakes it.
Enter Harper.
Isl:
O my good Lord! tis spred,
That Pembroke, and Count Arundell both are fled.
Enter Pembroke and Arundell.
Pem:
Sfoote who said so? what diuil dares sturre my
patience? zwounds I was talking with a crue of vagabonds
that lagd at Wiats taile, and am I thus paide
for my paines?
Norf.
And there being mist, some villaine finding
you out of sight hath raisde this slander on you, but
come my Lord.
Pem.
Ile not fight.
Norf:
Nay sweet Earle.
Pem.
Zoundes fight, and heare my name dishonoured?
Arun.
Wiat is marcht downe Fleete-streete: after
him.
Pem.
Why doe not you, and you, pursue him?
If I strike one blowe may my hand fall
off.
Pem:
And if I doe by this—
Norf.
Come leaue your swearing,
Did not countries care vrge me to this quarrell?
For my part I would not strike a blowe.
Pem.
No more would I, ile eate no wrongs,
Let's all die, and ile die.
Enter Messenger.
Mes.
Stand on your Guard, for this way Wyat is
persude a maine.
A great noise, follow.
Enter Wyat with his sword drawne being wounded.
Within.
Follow, follow.
Nor:
Stand Traitor stand, or thou shalt nere stand
more.
Wia.
Lords I yeeld, an easie conquest tis to win the field,
After al's lost I am wounded, let me haue a surgion,
that I may goe sound vnto my graue.
Tis not the name of Traitor paules me,
Nor pluckes my weapon from my hand.
Vse me how you can, though you say Traitor,
I am a Gentleman.
Your dreadfull shaking me, which I defie,
Is a poore losse of life, I wish to die,
Death frights my spirit, no more then can my bed,
Nor will I change one haire, loosing this head.
Pem.
Come guard him, guard him.
No matter where,
I hope for nothing, therefore nothing feare.
Exit Omnes.
Enter Winchester, Norfolke, Arundell, Pembroke with other Lordes.
Win.
My Lord of Norfolke, will it please you sit
By you the noble Lord of Arundell,
Since it hath pleasde her sacred Maiestie,
To nominate vs heere Commissioners:
Let vs without all partialitie be open eard,
To what they can aleadge: where's the Lieftenant of the Tower?
Enter Lieftenant of the Tower.
Lief.
Heere my good Lord.
Win.
Fetch foorth the prisoners,
Place them seuerally in chaires of state.
Clarke of the Crowne proceede as law requires.
Enter Guilford and Iane.
Clark:
Guilford Dudley, hold vp thy hand at the
barre.
Guil:
Heere at the barre of death I holde it vp,
And would to God, this hand heau'de to the law,
Might haue aduanc'd it selfe in better place,
For Englands good, and for my Soueraignes weale.
Clark,
Iane Gray, Lady Iane Gray,
Hould vp thy hand at the Barre.
Iane:
A hand as pure from Treasons Innocence,
At the white liuerie, worne by the Angels in their
makers fight.
Clarke:
You are heere indited by the names of
Guilford Dudly, Lord Dudley; Iane Gray, Lady
Iane Gray; of Capitall and high Treason, against
our moste Soueraigne Lady the Queenes
Maiestie.
That is to say, that you Guilford Dudley, and
Ladye Iane Gray, haue by all possible meanes
sought to procure unto your selues, the Royaltie
of the Crowne of England, to the disinheriting
of our new Soueraigne Lady the Queenes
Maiestie, the true and lawfull issue to that famous
King Henrie the eight, and haue manifestly
adorned your selues with the states Garland imperiall,
and haue graunted Warrants, Commissions,
and such like, for leuying of men and Souldiers
to bee sent against the saide maiestie: what
answere you to this Inditement, guiltie or not guiltie?
Guil:
Our answere shall be seuerall like our selues:
Yet Noble Earle wee confesse the inditement,
May we not make some Apolegie vnto the Court?
Norf:
It is against the order of the Law, therfore
directlye pleade vnto the Inditement, and then you
shall be heard.
Guil.
Against the law?
Wordes vttered then, as good vnspoken were,
For what so ere you say, you know your forme,
And you will follow it vnto our deathes.
Norfo:
Speake, are you guiltie of these crimes
or no?
Iane:
Ile answere first I am, and I am not,
But should we stand vnto the last vnguilty?
The fairest browe with stile of Trecherie.
Norfo:
The Barrons of the Land shall bee your
Iurie.
Iane.
An honorable and worthy Tryall.
And God forbid, so many Noblemen
Should be made guiltie of our Timelesse deathes.
Aru.
Youle answere to the Inditement, will you
not?
Guil.
My Lord I will, I am
Norf.
What, are you guiltie or noe?
Guil.
I say vnguiltie still, yet I am guiltie.
Iane:
Slander not thy selfe,
If there be any guiltie it was I,
I was proclaimde Queene, I the Crowne should weare.
Guil:
Because I was thy Husband I stand heere.
Iane.
Our loues wee sought our selues, but not our pride,
And shall our fathers faults our liues deuide?
Guil.
It was my father that made thee distrest,
Iane.
O but for mine, my Guilford had beene
blest.
Guil.
My Iane had beene as fortunate as faire.
Iane:
My Guilford free from this soule-greeuing
care.
Guilf:
If wee bee guiltie, tis no fault of ours,
And shall wee die, for whats not in our powers?
We sought no Kingdome, we desired no Crowne,
It was imposde vpon vs by constraint,
Like goulden fruite hung on a barren Tree,
And will you count such forcement treacherie?
Then make the siluer Thames,
As blacke as Sickts, because it was constraind to
beare the bankes, whose battering ordinance
should haue bin imploid against the hindrers of our
Royaltie.
Win:
You talke of sencelesse things.
Guil:
Dooe's Trees want sence, that by the power
of musick? haue bene drawn to dance a pleasing measure,
wele come then neerer vnto liuing thinges, say
wee vsurpe the English Royaltie, wast not by your consents?
Subscrib'd to the Commission of my father,
By which, you did authorice him to wage armes,
If they were Rebellious against your Soueraigne.
Who cride so loude as you, God saue Queene Iane?
And come you now your Soueraigne to arraigne?
Come downe, come downe, here at a Prisoners barre
Better doe so, then iudge your selues amisse:
For looke what sentence, on our heads you lay,
Vpon your owne, may light another day.
Win.
The Queene hath pardon'd them:
Guil:
And wee must die, for a lesse fault,
O partiallitie!
Iane:
Patience my Guilford, it was euer knowne,
They that find least, the punishment haue borne.
Gui.
True, my faire Queene of sorrowe truely speake.
Great men like great Flies,
Through lawes Cobwebs breake,
But the thin'st frame; the prison of the weake.
Norf:
Now trust me Arundell,
It doth grieue mee much, to fit
In iudgement of these harmlesse—
Aru:
I helpt to attach the Father, but the sonne—
O through my blood, I feele compassion.
Run my Lords, weele be humble suters to the Queen
Norf.
Lets breake vp Court,
If Norfolke long should stay,
In teares and passion, I should melt away.
Win:
Sit still, what will you take compassion vpon
such? they are Heritickes.
Iane.
We are Christians,
Leaue our conscience to our selues:
We stand not heere about Religious causes
But are accused of Capitall Treason.
Win:
Then you confesse the inditement.
Gui:
Euen what you will,
Yet saue my Iane, although my blood you spill.
Iane:
If I must die, saue Princely Guilfords life.
Norf:
Who is not moou'd, to see this louing strife?
Arun:
Pray pardon me, doe what you will to day,
And ile approue it though it be my death.
Win:
Then heare the speedye sentence of your deathes,
You shall be carried to the place from whence you
came, from thence vnto the place of Execution,
through London to be drawne on Hurdles,
Thou Guilforld Dudley hang'd and quartered,
So Lord haue mercie vpon you.
Guil:
Why this is well, since we must die,
That wee must die together.
VVin:
Stay and heere the mercie of the Queene,
Because you are of noble parentage,
Although the crime of your offence be greate,
Shee is onely pleased that you shall—
Both
Will shee pardon vs?
VVin:
Only I say that you shall loose your heads
Vpon the Tower-Hill, so conuey them hence Leifetenant
Guil.
Our doomes are knowne,
Our liues haue plaide their parte,
Farwell my Iane.
Iane:
My Dudley, mine owne heart.
Guil:
Faine would I take a serimonious leaue,
But thats to die a hundred thousand deathes:
Ian:
I cannot speake for teares.
Lif.
My Lord, come:
Guil.
Great griefes speake louder
When the least are dumb'd.
Exeunt.
Enter Sir Thomas Wyat in the Tower.
Wyat:
The sad aspect, this prison doth affoord,
Iumpes with the measure that my heart dooth keepe
And this inclosure here, of naught but stone,
Yeildes far more comfort then the stony hearts
Of them that wrong'd their country, and their friend
Heere is no periur'd Counsellors to sweare
A sacred oath, and then forsweare the same,
No innovators heere, doth harbor keepe,
A stedfast silence, doth possesse the place,
In this the Tower is noble being base.
Enter Lords to Wyat.
Norf.
Sir Thomas Wyat.
Wyat.
Thats my name indeede.
Win:
You should say Traitor.
Wiat.
Traitor and Wyats name,
Differ as farre as Winchester and honor.
I am a Piller of the Mother Church.
Wiat:
And what am I?
Win:
One that subuerts the state.
Wiat:
Insult not too much, ore th'vnfortunate,
I haue no Bishoppes Rochet to declare my innocencie,
This is my crosse, that causelesse
I must suffer my heads losse.
When that houre comes, wherein my blood is spilt,
My crosse will looke as bright as yours twice guilt.
Norf.
Here's for that purpose.
Wiat:
Is your grace so short?
Belike you come to make my death a sport.
Win:
We come to bring you to your execution,
You must be hang'd and quartered instantly:
At the parke Corner, is a gallous set,
Whether make hast to tender natures debt.
Wiat:
Then here's the end of Wyats rising vp,
I to keepe Spaniards from the Land was sworne,
Right willingly I yeelde my selfe to death,
But sorry such, should haue my place of birth.
Had London kept his word, Wyat had flood,
But now King Phillip enters through my blood.
UUin:
Wheres the Lieftenant of the Tower?
Exit Officers with Wyat.
Enter Lieftenant.
Lie:
Heere my Lord.
VVin:
Fetch foorth your other Prisoners.
Lief.
My Lord I will, heere lyes young Guilford,
heere the Lady Iane.
Norfol.
Conduct them forth.
Guil:
Good morrowe once more to my louelye
Iane.
Iane:
The last good morrow my sweete loue to
thee.
Guil:
VVhat were you reading?
Iane:
On a prayer booke.
Guil:
Trust me so was I, wee hade neede to pray,
For see, the Ministers of death drawe neere.
Iane:
To a prepared minde death is a pleasure,
I long in soule, till I haue spent my breath.
Guil:
My Lord High Chancelor, you are welcome
heather,
And my Lord Arundell thrice welcome.
You helpt to attache our Father, come you now,
To see the blacke conclusion of our Tragedie?
Win:
VVe come to doe our office.
Guil:
So doe wee.
Our office is to die, yours to looke on:
We are beholding vnto such beholders,
The time was Lords, when you did flock amaine,
To see her crownd, but now to kill my Iane,
The world like to a sickell, bends it selfe,
Men runne their course of liues as in a maze,
Our office is to die, yours but to gaze.
Iane.
Patience my Guilford.
Guil.
Patience my louely Iane:
Patience has blancht thy soule, as white as snow,
But who shall answere for thy death? this know,
An innocent to die, what is it lesse,
The guiltie dying, doe applaud the law,
But when the innocent creature stoopes his neck
to an vniust doome; vpon the Iudge they checke.
Liues are like soules, requird of their neglectors,
Then ours of you, that should bee our protectors:
Win:
Raile not against the law.
Guilfor:
No, God forbidde, my Lord of Winchester,
It's made of lawe, and should I raise against it
Twere against you, if I forget not,
You reioyc'd to see the fall of Cromwel,
Ioy you now at me?
Oft dying men are fild with prophesies,
But ile not be a prophet of your il.
Yet knowe my Lordes, they that behold vs now,
May to the axe of Iustice one day bowe,
And in that plot of ground where we must die,
Sprinckle their bloodes,
Though I know no cause why.
Norf:
Speake you to me Lord Guilford?
Gui:
Norfolke no, I speake to—
Norf:
To whome?
Gui:
Alasse I doe not knowe which of vs two
dies first.
Win:
The better part.
Gui:
O rather kill the worst.
Iane:
Tis I sweete loue, that first must kisse the
blocke.
Guilf.
I am a man, men better brooke the
shocke of threatning death,
The thoughts of death, a womans hearte will
breake.
Iane.
But I am armde to die.
Guilf:
Likelyer to liue:
Death to the vnwilling dooth his presence giue?
Hee dares not looke the bolde man in the face,
But on the fearefull layes his killing Mace.
Winc.
It is the pleasure of the Queene, that the
Lady Iane must first suffer death.
Iane.
I thanke her Highnesse,
That I shall first depart this haplesse world,
and not Suruiue to see my deere loue dead.
Guilfo:
She dying first, I three times loose my
head.
Enter the Headsman.
Headsm.
Forgiue me Lady I pra'y your death.
Guilf:
Ha? hast thou the heart to kill a face so
faire.
Win:
It is her Heades-man.
Guil:
And demaundes a pardon,
Onely of her, for taking off her head?
Iane:
I gentle Guilford, and I pardon him.
Guil:
But ile not pardon him, thou art my wife.
And he shall aske me pardon for thy life,
Hed:
Pardon me my Lord.
Gui:
Rise, doe not kneele.
Though thou submit'st, thou hast a lowring steele
Whose fatal declynation brings our death:
Heds.
Pleaseth the Lady Iane, ile helpe her off
with her night-Gowne.
Iane:
Thankes gentle friend,
But I haue other waiting women to attend mee.
Good Mistris Ellin lend me a helping hand,
To strip me of this worldly ornaments
Off with these robes, O teare them from my side,
Such silken couers are the guilt of pride.
Insteede of gownes, my couerture be earth,
My worldly death or new Celestiall breath.
What is it off?
Lad:
Madam almoste.
Iane:
Not yet, O God! how hardly can we
shake off this worldes Pomp,
Yet thus O God shake of thy seruants sinne.
Lady:
Here is a scarce to blinde your eies.
Iane:
From all the world, but from my Guilfords sight:
Before I fasten this beneath my browe,
Let me behold him with a constant looke.
Gui:
O doe not kill me with that pitious eie:
Iane:
Tis my last farwell, take it patiently,
My dearest Guilford let vs kisse and part.
Nowe blinde mine eyes, neuer to see the skie,
Blinde folde thus leade me to the blocke to die
Guil:
Oh!
He falles in a trance.
Norf:
How fares my Lord?
Arun:
Hee's falne into a trance.
Norf:
Wake him not, vntill hee wake himselfe,
O happie Guilford if thou die in this.
Enter the Heades-men with Ianes head.
Win:
Heare comes the Heads-man, with the
head of Iane:
Guil:
Who spake of Iane? who namde my
louely Iane?
Win.
Behold her head.
Gui.
O I shall faint againe!
Yet let me beare this fight vnto my graue
My sweete Ianes head:
Looke Norfolke, Arundell, Winchester,
Doe malefactors, looke:
Thus when they die, a ruddie lippe,
A cleere reflecting eye,
Cheekes purer then the Maiden oreant pearle,
That sprinckles bashfulnes through the clowdes
Her innocence, has giuen her this looke:
The like for me to show so well being dead,
How willingly, would Guilford loose his head.
Win.
My Lord, the time runs on.
Guil.
So does our death.
Heeres one has run so fast shee's out of breath,
But the time goes on,
And my faire Ianes white soule, wil be
In heauen before me
If I doe stay: stay gentle wife,
Thy Guilford followes thee,
Though on the earth we part, by aduerse fate,
Our soules shall knock together at heauens gate,
And we shall passe the smoother on our way.
My Lords farwell, I once farwel to all,
The Fathers pride has causde the Childrens fall.
Exit Guilford to Death.
Nor.
Thus haue we seene her Highnesse will
perform'd,
and buried in one graue, as fits their loues.
Thus much ile say in their behalfes now dead,
Their Fathers pride their liues haue seuered.
FINIS.
| The Famous History of Sir Thomas Wyat | |