 | The Chronicle Historie of Perkin Warbeck |  |
Actus Tertius
Scæna prima.
Enter King Henrie, his Gorget on, his sword, plume of feathers, leading staffe, and Vrswicke.K: H:
How runnes the time of day?
Vrsw:
Past tenne my Lord.
K: H:
A bloudie houre will it proue to some,
Whose disobedience, like the sonnes 'oth earth,
Throw a defiance 'gainst the face of Heaven.
Oxford, with Essex, and stout De la Poole,
Haue quietted the Londoners (I hope)
And set them safe from feare!
Vrs:
They are all silent.
K: H:
From their owne battlements, they may behold,
Saint Georges fields orespred with armed men;
Amongst whom, our owne royall Standard threatens
Confusion to opposers; wee must learne
To practise warre againe in time of peace,
Or lay our Crowne before our Subjects feete,
Ha, Vrswicke, must we not?
Vrsw:
The powers, who seated
King Henry on his lawfull throne, will ever
Rise vp in his defence.
K: H:
Rage shall not fright
The bosome of our confidence; in Kent
Our Cornish Rebells cozen'd of their hopes,
Met braue resistance by that Countryes Earle,
George Aburgenie, Cobham, Poynings, Guilford,
And other loyall hearts; now if Black heath
Must be reserv'd the fatall tombe to swallow
Such stifneckt Abjects, as with wearie Marches,
Haue travaild from their homes, their wiues, and children,
To pay in stead of Subsidies their liues,
Wee may continue Soveraigne? yet Vrswicke
Hath freely beene contributed; wee must not;
Money giues soule to action; Our Competitor,
The Flemish Counterfeit, with Iames of Scotland,
Will proue, what courage neede, and want, can nourish
Without the foode of fit supplyes; but Vrswicke
I haue a charme in secret, that shall loose
The Witch-craft, wherewith young King Iames is bound,
And free it at my pleasure without bloud-shed.
Vrsw:
Your Majestie's a wise King, sent from Heaven
Protector of the just.
K. H.
Let dinner cheerefully
Be serv'd in; this day of the weeke is ours,
Our day of providence, for Saturday
Yet never fayld in all my vndertakings,
To yeeld me rest at night; what meanes this warning?
Good Fate, speake peace to Henry.
A Flourish.
Enter Dawbney, Oxford, and attendants.
Dawb:
Liue the King,
Triumphant in the ruine of his enemies.
Oxf:
The head of strong rebellion is cut off,
The body hew'd in peeces:
K: H:
Dawbney, Oxford,
Minions to noblest fortunes, how yet stands
The comfort of your wishes?
Dawb:
Briefly thus:
The Cornish vnder Awdley disappoynted
Of flattered expectation, from the Kentish
(Your Majesties right trustie Liegemen) flewe,
Featherd by rage, and hartned by presumption,
To take the field, even at your Pallace gates,
And face you in your chamber Royall; Arrogance,
Improu'd their ignorance; for they supposing,
(Misled by rumor) that the day of battaile
Should fall on Munday, rather brav'd your forces
Then doubted any onset; yet this Morning,
When in the dawning I by your direction
Such a resistance, as might shew what strength
Could make; here Arrowes hayld in showers vpon vs
A full yard long at least; but wee prevayld.
My Lord of Oxford with his fellow Peeres,
Invironing the hill, fell feircely on them
On the one side, I on the other, till (great Sir)
(Pardon the over-sight) eager of doing
Some memorable act, I was engagd
Almost a prisoner, but was freede as soone
As sensible of daunger: now the fight
Beganne in heate, which quenched in the bloud of
Two thousand Rebells, and as many more
Reserv'd to trie your mercy, haue return'd
A victory with safetie.
K: H:
Haue we lost
An equall number with them?
Oxf:
In the totall
Scarcely foure hundred: Awdley, Flammock, Ioseph,
The Ring-leaders of this Commotion,
Raled in ropes, fit Ornaments for traytors,
Waite your determinations.
K: H:
Wee must pay
Our thankes where they are onely due: Oh, Lords,
Here is no victorie, nor shall our people
Conceiue that wee can triumph in their falles.
Alas, poore soules! Let such as are escapt
Steale to the Countrey backe without pursuite:
There's not a drop of bloud spilt, but hath drawne
As much of mine, their swords could haue wrought wonders
On their Kings part, who faintly were vnsheath'd
Against their Prince, but wounded their owne breasts.
Lords wee are debtors to your care, our payment
Shall be both sure, and fitting your Deserts.
Dawb:
Sir, will you please to see those Rebells, heads
Of this wilde Monster multitude?
K: H:
Deare friend,
My faithfull Dawbney, no; on them our Iustice
Must frowne in terror, I will not vouchsafe
An eye of pittie to them, let false Awdley
Be drawne vpon an hurdle from the New-gate
Paynted on paper, with the Armes reverst,
Defac'd, and torne, there let him loose his head.
The Lawyer and the Black-smith shall be hang'd,
Quartered, their quarters into Cornwall sent,
Examples to the rest, whom wee are pleasd
To pardon, and dismisse from further quest.
My Lord of Oxford see it done.
Oxf:
I shall Sir.
K: H:
Vrswicke.
Vrsw:
My Lord.
K: H:
To Dinham our high treasurer,
Say wee commaund Commissions be new graunted,
For the Collection of our Subsidies
Through all the West, and that speedily.
Lords wee acknowledge our engagements due
For your most constant services.
Dawb:
Your Souldiers
Haue manfully and faithfully acquitted
Their severall duties.
K: H:
For it, wee will throwe
A Largesse free amongst them, which shall harten
And cheerish vp their Loyalties, more yet
Remaines of like imployment, not a man
Can be dismist, till enemies abroad
More dangerous then these at home, haue felt
The puissance of our Armes, oh happie Kings
Whose thrones are raised in their Subjects hearts.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Huntley and Daliell.
Hunt:
Now Sir, a modest word with you (sad Gentleman)
Is not this fine, I trowe, to see the gambolds,
To heare the Iiggs, obserue the friskes, b'enchanted
With the rare discord of bells, pipes and tabors,
Hotchpotch of Scotch and Irish twingle twangles,
Like to so many Queresters of Bedlam,
Trowling a catch? the feasts, the manly stomaches,
The healthes in Vsquabaugh, and bonie clabbore,
The hundred thousand knackes not to be spoken of,
And all this for King Oberon, and Queene Mab,
Should put a soule int'ee: looke'ee (good man)
How youthfull I am growne, but by your leaue,
This new Queene Bride, must henceforth be no more
My Daughter, no burladie, tis vnfit.
And yet you see how I doe beare this change,
Methinkes couragiously, then shake off care
In such a time of jollitie.
Dal.
Alas Sir,
How can you cast a mist vpon your griefes?
Which how so ere you shadow, but present
To any judging eye, the perfect substance
Of which mine are but counterfeits.
Hunt:
Fo Daliel
Thou interrupts the part I beare in Musicke
To this rare bridall feast, let vs be merry;
Whilst flattering calmes secure vs against stormes,
Tempests when they begin to roare, put out
The light of peace and cloud the Sunnes bright eye
In darkenesse of despayre, yet wee are safe.
Dal:
I wish you could as easily forget
The Iustice of your sorrowes, as my hopes
Can yeelde to destinie.
Hunt:
Pish then I see
Thou doest not know the flexible condition
Of my ap't nature, I can laugh, laugh heartily
When the Gowt crampes my joynts, let but the stone
Stoppe in my bladder, I am streite a singing,
The Quartane feaver shrinking every limme,
Setts me a capring straite, doe but betray me
And binde me a friend ever. what I trust
The loosing of a Daughter, (though I doted
On every hayre that grew to trim her head)
Admitts not any paine like one of these.
Come th'art deceivd in me, giue me a blow,
A sound blow on the face, Ile thanke thee for't,
I loue my wrongs, still th'art deceiv'd in me.
Deceiu'd? Oh noble Huntley, my few yeares
Haue learnt experience of too ripe an age
To forfeite fit credulitie, forgiue
My rudenesse, I am bolde.
Hunt:
Forgiue me first
A madnesse of ambition, by example
Teach me humilitie, for patience scornes,
Lectures which Schoolemen vse to reade to boyes
Vncapable of injuries; though olde
I could grow tough in furie, and disclaime
Alleagence to my King, could fall at odds
With all my fellow Peeres, that durst not stand
Defendants 'gainst the rape done on mine honor.
But Kings are earthly gods, there is no medling
With their annoynted bodies, for their actions,
They onely are accountable to Heaven.
Yet in the puzzle of my troubled braine
One Antidote's reserv'd against the poyson
Of my distractions, tis in thee t'apply it.
Dal:
Name it, oh name it quickly Sir!
Hunt:
A pardon
For my most foolish sleighting thy Deserts,
I haue culd out this time to beg it, preethee
Be gentle, had I beene so, thou hadst own'd
A happie Bride, but now a cast away,
And never childe of mine more.
Dal:
Say not so (Sir,) it is not fault in her.
Hunt:
The world would prate
How shee was handsome; young I know shee was,
Tender, and sweet in her obedience;
But lost now; what a banckrupt am I made
Of a full stocke of blessings.—must I hope
a mercy from thy heart?
Dal:
A loue, a service,
A friendship to posteritie.
Hunt:
Good Angells
Reward thy charitie, I haue no more
But prayers left me now.
Dal:
Ile lend you mirth (Sir)
If you will be in Consort.
Hunt:
Thanke yee' truely:
I must, yes, yes, I must; heres yet some ease,
A partner in affliction, looke not angry.
Good noble Sir.
Hunt:
Oh harke, wee may be quiet,
The King and all the others come: a meeting
Of gawdie sights; this dayes the last of Revells;
To morrow sounds of warre; then new exchange:
Fiddles must turne to swords, vnhappie marriage!
Flourish.
Enter King Iames, Warbecke leading Katherine, Crawford, Countesse, and Iane, Huntley, and Daliell fall among them.
K: Ia:
Cosen of Yorke, you and your Princely Bride,
Haue liberally enjoy'd such soft delights,
As a new married couple could fore-thinke:
Nor ha's our bountie shortned expectation;
But after all those pleasures of repose,
Or amorous safetie, wee must rowse the ease
Of dalliance, with atchievements of more glorie,
Then sloath and sleepe can furnish: yet, for farewell,
Gladly wee entertaine a truce with time,
To grace the joynt endeavours of our servants.
Warb:
My Royall Cosen, in your Princely favour,
The extent of bountie hath beene so vnlimitted,
As onely an acknowledgement in words,
Would breede suspition in our state, and qualitie:
When Wee shall in the fulnesse of our fate
(Whose Minister necessitie will perfite,)
Sit on our owne throne; then our armes laid open
To gratitude, in sacred memory
Of these large benefits, shall twyne them close
Even to our thoughts, and heart, without distinction.
Then Iames, and Richard, being in effect
One person, shall vnite and rule one people.
Devisible in titles onely.
K: Ia:
Seate yee';
Are the presentors readie?
Crawf:
All are entring.
Hunt:
Daintie sport toward Daliell, sit, come sit,
Sit and be quiet, here are Kingly buggs words.
K: Ia:
To all a generall thankes!
Warb:
In the next Roome
Take your owne shapes againe, you shall receiue
Particular acknowledgement.
K: Ia:
Enough
Of merriments; Crawford, how far's our Armie
Vpon the March?
Craw:
At Hedenhall (great King)
Twelue thousand well prepard.
K: Ia:
Crawford, to night
Post thither! Wee in person with the Prince
By foure a clocke to morrow after dinner,
Will be w'ee; speede away!
Craw.
I flie my Lord.
K: I:
Our businesse growes to head now, where's your
Secretarie that he attends'ee not to serue?
Warb:
With March-mont your Herald.
K: Ia:
Good: the Proclamations readie;
By that it will appeare, how the English stand
Affected to your title; Huntley comfort
Your Daughter in her Husbands absence; fight
With prayers at home for vs, who for your honors,
Must toyle in fight abroad.
Hunt:
Prayers are the weapons,
Which men, so neere their graues as I, doe vse.
I've little else to doe.
K: Ia:
To rest young beauties!
Wee must be early stirring, quickly part,
“A Kingdomes rescue craues both speede and art.
Cosens good night.
Flourish.
Warb:
Rest to our Cosen King.
Kath:
Your blessing Sir;
Hunt:
Faire blessings on your Highnesse, sure you neede'em.
Exeunt omnes, Manent, Warb. & Katherine.
Warb:
Iane set the lights downe, and from vs returne
To those in the next roome, this little purse
Say we'ele deserue their loues.
Iane.
It shall be done Sir.
Now dearest; ere sweet sleepe shall seale those eyes,
(Loues pretious tapers,) giue me leaue to vse
A parting Ceremonie; for to morrowe,
It would be sacriledge to intrude vpon
The temple of thy peace: swift as the morning,
Must I breake from the downe of thy embraces,
To put on steele, and trace the pathes which leade
Through various hazards to a carefull throne.
Kath:
My Lord, I would faine goe w'ee, theres small fortune
In staying here behinde.
Warb:
The churlish browe
Of warre (faire dearest) is a sight of horror
For Ladies entertainment; if thou hear'st
A truth of my sad ending by the hand
Of some vnnaturall subject, thou withall
Shalt heare, how I dyed worthie of my right,
By falling like a King; and in the cloze
Which my last breath shall sound, thy name, thou fayrest
Shall sing a requiem to my soule, vnwilling
Onely of greater glorie, 'cause devided
From such a heaven on earth, as life with thee.
But these are chimes for funeralls, my businesse
Attends on fortune of a sprightlier triumph;
For loue and Majestie are reconcil'd,
And vow to crowne thee Empresse of the West.
Kath:
You haue a noble language (Sir,) your right
In mee is without question, and however
Events of time may shorten my deserts,
In others pittie; yet it shall not stagger,
Or constancie, or dutie in a wife.
You must be King of me, and my poore heart
Is all I can call mine.
Warb:
But we will liue;
Liue (beauteous vertue) by the liuely test
Of our owne bloud, to let the Counterfeite
Be knowne the worlds contempt.
Kath:
Pray doe not vse
That word, it carries fate in't; the first suite
I ever made, I trust your loue will graunt!
Without deniall (dearest.)
Kath:
That hereafter,
If you returne with safetie, no adventure
May sever vs in tasting any fortune:
I nere can stay behinde againe.
Warb:
Y'are Ladie
Of your desires, and shall commaund your will:
Yet 'tis too hard a promise.
Kath:
What our Destinies
Haue rul'd out in their Bookes, wee must not search
But kneele too.
Warb:
Then to feare when hope is fruitlesse,
Were to be desperately miserable;
Which povertie, our greatnesse dares not dreame of,
And much more scornes to stoope to; some fewe minutes
Remaine yet, let's be thriftie in our hopes.
Exeunt.
Enter King Henrie, Hialas, and Vrswicke.
K: H:
Your name is Pedro Hialas: a Spaniard?
Hialas.
Sir a Castillian borne.
K: H:
King Ferdinand
With wife Queene Isabell his royall consort,
Write 'ee a man of worthie trust and candor.
Princes are deare to heaven, who meete with Subjects
Sincere in their imployments; such I finde
Your commendation (Sir,) let me deliver
How joyfull I repute the amitie,
With your most fortunate Maister, who almost
Comes neere a miracle, in his successe
Against the Moores, who had devour'd his Countrie,
Entire now to his Scepter; Wee, for our part
Will imitate his providence, in hope
Of partage in the vse o'nt; Wee repute
The privacie of his advisement to vs
By you, entended an Ambassadour
To Scotland for a peace betweene our Kingdomes;
A policie of loue, which well becomes
His wisedome, and our care.
Hialas.
Your Majestie
Doth vnderstand him rightly.
K: H:
Els, your knowledge can instruct me, wherein (Sir)
Which shall not neede; for I will be as studious
Of your concealement in our Conference,
As any Counsell shall advise.
Hialas.
Then (Sir)
My chiefe request is, that on notice given
At my dispatch in Scotland, you will send
Some learned man of power and experience
To joyne in treatie with me.
K. H.
I shall doe it,
Being that way well provided by a servant
Which may attend 'ee ever.
Hialas.
If King Iames
By any indirection should perceiue
My comming neere your Court, I doubt the issue
Of my imployment.
K: H:
Be not your owne Herald,
I learne sometimes without a teacher.
Hialas.
Good dayes guard all your Princely thoughts.
K: H:
Vrswicke no further
Then the next open Gallerie attend him.
A heartie loue goe with you.
Hialas.
Your vow'd Beadsman.
Ex: Vrsw: and Hialas.
K: H:
King Ferdinand is not so much a Foxe,
But that a cunning Huntsman may in time
Fall on the sent; in honourable actions
Safe imitation best deserues a prayse.
Enter Vrswicke.
What' the Castillians past away?
Vrsw:
He is,
And vndiscovered; the two hundred markes
Your Majestie conveyde, a' gentlie purst,
With a right modest gravitie.
K: H:
What wast
A' mutterd in the earnest of his wisedome,
A' spoke not to be heard? Twas about—
Vrsw:
Warbecke;
How if King Henry were but sure of Subjects,
Such a wilde runnagate might soone be cag'd,
No great adoe withstanding.
K: H:
Nay, nay, something
About my sonne Prince Arthurs match!
Vrsw:
Right, right, Sir.
A humd it out, how that King Ferdinand
His Daughter, and the Prince of Wales your Sonne,
Should never be consummated, as long
As any Earle of Warwicke liv'd in England,
Except by newe Creation.
K: H:
I remember,
'Twas so indeede, the King his Maister swore it?
Vrsw:
Directly, as he said.
K: H:
An Earle of Warwicke!
Provide a Messenger for Letters instantly
To Bishop Fox. Our newes from Scotland creepes,
It comes so slow; wee must haue ayrie spirits:
Our time requires dispatch,—the Earle of Warwicke!
Let him be sonne to Clarence, younger brother
To Edward! Edwards Daughter is I thinke
Mother to our Prince Arthur; get a Messenger.
Exeunt.
Enter King Iames, Warbecke, Crawford, Daliell, Heron, Astley, Major, Sketon, and Souldiers.
K: Ia:
Wee trifle time against these Castle walls,
The English Prelate will not yeelde, once more
Giue him a Summons!
Parley.
Enter aboue Durham armed, a Truncheon in his hand, and Souldiers.
Warb:
See, the jolly Clarke
Appeares trimd like a ruffian.
K: Ia:
Bishop, yet
Set ope the portes, and to your lawfull Soveraigne
Richard of Yorke surrender vp this Castle,
And he will take thee to his Grace; else Tweede
Shall overflow his banckes with English bloud,
And wash the sande that cements those hard stones,
From their foundation.
Dur:
Warlike King of Scotland,
Vouchsafe a few words from a man inforc't
To lay his Booke aside, and clap on Armes,
Vnsutable to my age, or my profession.
Couragious Prince, consider on what grounds,
With a confederate King that courts your amitie;
For whom too? for a vagabond, a straggler,
Not noted in the world by birth or name,
An obscure peasant, by the rage of Hell
Loosd from his chaynes, to set great Kings at strife,
What Nobleman? what common man of note?
What ordinary subject hath come in,
Since first you footed on our Territories,
To onely faine a wellcome? children laugh at
Your Proclamations, and the wiser pittie,
So great a Potentates abuse, by one
Who juggles meerly with the fawnes and youth
Of an instructed complement; such spoyles,
Such slaughters as the rapine of your Souldiers
Alreadie haue committed, is enough
To shew your zeale in a conceited Iustice.
Yet (great King) wake not yet my Maisters vengeance:
But shake that Viper off which gnawes your entrayles!
I, and my fellow Subjects, are resolv'd
If you persist, to stand your vtmost furie,
Till our last bloud drop from vs.
Warb:
O Sir, lend
Me eare to this seducer of my honor!
What shall I call thee, (thou graybearded Scandall)
That kickst against the Soveraigntie to which
Thou owest alleagance? Treason is bold-fac'd,
And eloquent in mischiefe; sacred King
Be deafe to his knowne malice!
Dur:
Rather yeelde
Vnto those holy motions, which inspire
The sacred heart of an annoynted bodie!
It is the surest pollicie in Princes,
To governe well their owne, then seeke encroachment
Vpon anothers right.
Crawf:
The King is serious,
Deepe in his meditation.
Dal:
Lift them vp
To heaven his better genius!
Warb:
Can you studie, while such a Devill raues? O Sir.
Well,—Bishopp,
You'le not be drawne to mercie?
Dur:
Conster me
In like case by a Subject of your owne!
My resolutions fixt, King Iames be counseld.
A greater fate waites on thee.
Exit Durham cum suis.
K: Ia:
Forrage through
The Countrey, spare no prey of life, or goods,
Warb:
O Sir, then giue me leaue to yeeld to nature,
I am most miserable; had I beene
Borne what this Clergie man would by defame
Baffle beliefe with, I had never sought
The truth of mine inheritance with rapes
Of women, or of infants murthered; Virgins
Defloured; olde men butchered; dwellings fir'd;
My Land depopulated; and my people
Afflicted with a Kingdomes devastation.
Shew more remorse great King, or I shall never
Endure to see such havocke with drie eyes:
Spare, spare, my deare deare England.
K: Ia:
You foole your pietie
Ridiculously, carefull of an interest
Another man possesseth! Wheres your faction?
Shrewdly the Bishop ghost of your adherents,
When not a pettie Burgesse of some Towne,
No, not a Villager hath yet appear'd
In your assistance, that should make 'ee whine,
And not your Countryes sufferance as you tearme it.
Dal:
The King is angrie.
Crawf:
And the passionate Duke,
Effeminately dolent.
Warb:
The experience
In former tryalls (Sir) both of mine owne
Or other Princes, cast out of their thrones,
Haue so acquainted mee, how miserie
Is destitute of friends, or of reliefe,
That I can easily submit to taste
Lowest reproofe, without contempt or words.
Enter Frion.
K: Ia:
An humble minded man,—now, what intelligence
Of England, hath in open field ore'throwne
The Armies who opposd him, in the right
Of this young Prince.
K: Ia:
His Subsidies you meane: more if you haue it?
Frion.
Howard Earle of Surrey,
Backt by twelue Earles and Barons of the North,
An hundred Knights and Gentlemen of Name,
And twentie thousand Souldiers, is at hand
To raise your siege. Brooke with a goodly Navie
Is Admirall at Sea: and Dawbney followes
With an vnbroken Armie for a second.
Warb:
'Tis false! they come to side with vs.
K: Ia:
Retreate:
Wee shall not finde them stones and walls to cope with.
Yet Duke of Yorke, (for such thou sayest thou art,)
Ile trie thy fortune to the height; to Surrey
By Marchmount, I will send a braue Defiance
For single Combate; once a King will venter
His person to an Earle; with Condition
Of spilling lesser bloud, Surrey is bolde
And Iames resolv'd.
Warb:
O rather (gracious Sir,)
Create me to this glorie; since my cause
Doth interest this fayre quarrell; valued least
I am his equall.
K: I:
I will be the man;
March softly off, where Victorie can reape
“A harvest crown'd with triumph, toyle is cheape.
Exeunt omnes.
| The Chronicle Historie of Perkin Warbeck | |