University of Virginia Library

Scena 2.

Enter Octauian, King of Northwales, Gloster, Codigunes base sonne, Morgan, Earle of Anglesey, and his foolish sonne with souldiers.
Octauian.
Gloster, Lord Codigune,
And Noble Morgan, Earle of Anglesey,
Can the vsurping name of Monmouth liue
VVithin the ayry confines of your soules,
And not infect the purest temprature
Of loyalty and sworne allegeance,
With that base Apoplexie of reuolt,
And egre appetite of soueraigne might,
Counting the greatest wrong, the greatest right?
Full many Moones haue these two aged lights
Beheld in peacefull wife: Now, to my griefe,
When the pure oyle, that fed these aged Lampes,
Is almost spent, and dimly shines those beames,
That in my youth darted forth spritefull rayes,
Must now die miserable and vndone,
By monstrous and base vsurpation.

Codig.
Thrise noble king, be patient, this I reade,
The Gods haue feet of wooll, but hands of lead:
And therefore in reuenge as sure, as slow.
What though two Royall Armies we haue lost?
He that beares man about him, must be crost:
And that base Monmouth, that with his goldēhead
Salutes the Sunne, may with the Sunne fal dead.
For base Rebellion drawes so short a breath,
That in the day she moues, she moues to death:
And like the Marigold opens with the Sunne,
But at the night her pride is shut and done.

Morgan.

Harke you, me Lord Codigune,
By the pones of Saint Tauy, you haue prattled to the King

a great deale of good Phisicke, and for this one of her good
lessons and destructions, how call you it, be Cad, I know
not very well, I wil fight for you with all the George Stones,
or the Ursa maiors vnder the Sunnes. Harke you me, Kings:
I pray you now, good Kings, leaue your whimbling, and
your great proclamations: let death come at her, and ha
can catch her, and pray God blesse her. As for the Rebell
Monmouth, I kanow very well what I will do with her. I
will make Martlemas beefe on her flesh, and false dice on
her pones for euery Conicatcher: I warrant her for Case
bobby and Metheglin: I will make her pate ring noone for
all her resurrections and rebellions.

The Drumme soundeth afarre off.
Octauian.
But soft, what Drum is this,
That with her silent march salutes the ayre?
Herald, go see.

Herald.
And't please your Grace, Cadallan, Earle of March
Spurred on by duty and obsequious loue,
Repining at the Fortune of your foe,
Whose rauening tyranny deuoures the liues
Of innocent subiects, now in person comes,
To scourge base vsurpation with his sonnes.

Octa.
Conduct them to our presence.
Enter March.
Welcome, braue Earle, with these thy manly sonnes:
Neuer came raine vnto the Sunne-parcht earth,
In more auspicious time, then thy supply,
To scourge vsurping pride and soueraignety.

Cadallan.
Oh my gracious Lord,
Cadallan comes drawne by that powerfull awe
Of that rich Adamant his soule adores.
The needles poynt is not more willing to salute the North,
Man ioyfuller to sit inshrinde in heauen,
Then is my loyalty to ayde my King.
I know, dread Liege, that each true man should know,
To what intent dame Nature brought him forth:
True subiects are like Commons, who should feede
Their King, their Country, and their friends at need.

Octa.
Braue Earle of March, I need not here delude
The precious time with vaine capituling
Our own hereditary right. Graues to the dead,
Balsum to greene wounds, or a soule to man
Is not more proper, then Octauian
To the vsurped Title Monmouth holds.
Then once more on: this be our onely trust:
Heauens suffer wrongs: but Angels gard the iust.

Exeunt.