 | The Tragedy of Alphonsus Emperour of Germany |  |
14
ACT. II.
Enter Alphonsus, Richard Earl of Cornwall, Mentz, Trier, Prince Edward, Bohemia, Collen, Brandenburge, Attendants, and Pages with a sword.Bohem.
Behold here come the Princes hand in hand,
Pleas'd highly with the sentence as it seems.
Alphon.
Princes and Pillars of the Monarchy,
We do admire your wisdoms in this cause,
And do accept the King of Bohemia,
As worthy partner in the Government.
Alas my Lords, I flatly now confess,
I was alone too weak to underprop
So great a burden as the Roman Empire,
And hope to make you all admire the course
That we intend in this conjunction.
Richard.
That I was call'd from England with consent
Of all the seven Electors to this place,
Your selves best know, who wrote for me to come.
'Twas no ambition mov'd me to the journey,
But pitty of your half declining State;
Which being likely now to be repayr'd,
By the united force of these two Kings,
I rest content to see you satisfied.
Mentz.
Brave Earl, wonder of Princely patience,
I hope your grace will not mis-think of me,
Who for your good, and for the Empires best,
Bethought this means to set the world at Peace.
Edward.
No doubt this means might have been thought upon,
Although your Holiness had dy'd in Prison.
Mentz.
Peace, peace young Prince, you want experience;
Your Unckle knows what cares accompany,
And wait upon the Crowns of mightiest Kings,
And glad he is that he hath shak'd it off.
Edward.
Heark in your ear my Lord, hear me one word,
Although it were more than a million,
Which these two Kings bestow'd upon your grace,
Mine Unckle Richards million sav'd your life.
Mentz.
You were best to say, your Vnckle brib'd me then.
15
I do but say mine Vnckle sav'd your life,
You know Count Mansfield your fellow Prisoner,
Was by the Duke of Brunschwig put to death.
Mentz.
You are a Child my Lord, your words are wind.
Edward.
You are a Fox my Lord, and past a Child.
Bohem.
My Lord of Cornwall, your great forwardness,
Crossing the Seas with aid of Englishmen,
Is more than we can any way requite;
But this your admirable patience,
In being pleas'd with our election,
Deserves far more than thanks can satisfie,
In any thing command the Emperours,
Who live to honour Richard Earl of Cornwall.
Alpho.
Our deeds shall make our Protestations good,
Mean while, brave Princes, let us leave this place,
And solace us with joy of this accord.
Enter Isabella the Empress, Hedewick the Duke of Saxon's Daughter, apparelled like Fortune, drawn on a Globe, with a Cup in her hand, wherein are Bay leaves, whereupon are written the lots. A train of Ladies following with Musick.
Empress.
To gratulate this unexpected Peace,
This glorious league confirm'd against all hope,
Joyful Isabella doth present this shew,
Of Fortunes triumph, as the custom is
At Coronation of our Emperours;
If therefore every party be well pleas'd,
And stand content with this arbitriment,
Then daign to do as your Progenitors,
And draw in sequence Lots for Offices.
Alphon.
This is an order here in Germany,
For Princes to disport themselves with all,
In sign their hearts so firmly are conjoyn'd,
That they will bear all fortunes equally,
And that the world may know I scorn no state,
Or course of life to do the Empire good,
I take my chance: My Fortune is to be the Forrester,
Emp.
If we want Venson either red or fallow,
16
Bohem.
The Emperour's Taster I.
Emp.
Your Majesty hath been tasted to so oft,
That you have need of small instructions.
Richard.
I am the bowr, Sister what is my charge?
Emp.
Tyr'd like a Carter, and a Clownish Bowr,
To bring a load of Wood into the Kitchin.
Now for my self, Faith I am Chamber Maid,
I know my charge; proceed unto the next.
Alphon.
Prince Edward standeth melancholy still,
Please it your Grace, my Lord, to draw your lot.
Emp.
Nephew you must be solemn with the sad,
And given to myrth in sportful Company,
The German Princes when they will be lusty,
Shake of all cares, and Clowns and they are Fellows.
Edward.
Sweet Aunt, I do not know the Country guise,
Yet would be glad to learn all fashions.
Since I am next, good Fortune be my guide.
Brand.
A most ingenuous countenance hath this Prince,
Worthy to be the King of England's Heir.
Edward.
Be it no disparagement to you my Lords,
I am your Emperour.
Alphon.
Sound trumpets, God save the Emperour.
Collen.
The world could never worse have fitted me,
I am not old enough to be the Cook.
Empress.
If you be Cook, there is no remedy
But you must dress one Mess of meat your self.
Branden.
I am Physician.
Trier.
I am Secretary.
Mentz.
I am the Jester.
Edward.
O excellent! is your Holiness the Vice?
Fortune hath fitted you y'faith my Lord,
You'l play the Ambodexter cunningly.
Mentz.
Your Highness is to bitter in your Jests.
Alphon.
Come hither Alexander, to comfort thee,
After the death of thy beloved Father,
Whose life was deer unto his Emperour,
Thou shalt make one in this solemnity,
Yet e're thou draw, my self will honour thee,
And as the custom is make thee a man.
17
Take this, and that, and therewithall this Sword;
[He gives Alexander a Box on the ear or two.
If while thou live, thou ever take the like,
Of me, or any man, I here pronounce
Thou art a schelm, otherwise a man.
Now draw thy lot, and Fortune be thy speed.
Edward.
Vnckle I pray why did he box the fellow?
Foul lubber as he is, to take such blows.
Richard.
Thus do the Princes make their Pages men.
Edward.
But that is strange to make a man with blows.
We say in England that he is a man,
That like a man dare meet his enemy,
And in my judgement 'tis the sounder tryal.
Alex.
Fortune hath made me Marshall of the tryumphs.
Alphon.
Now what remains?
Emperess.
That Fortune draw her lot.
She opens it, and gives it to the Emperess to read.
Empress.
Sound trumpets, Fortune is your Emperess.
Alphon.
This happens right; for Fortune will be Queen.
Now Emperour you must unmask her face,
And tell us how you like your Emperess,
In my opinion England breeds no fairer.
Bohe.
Fair Hedewick the Duke of Saxons daughter,
Young Prince of England, you are bravely match'd.
Edward.
Tell me sweet Aunt, is that this Saxon Princess,
Whose beauties fame made Edward cross the Seas?
Emperess.
Nephew, it is; hath fame been prodigal,
Or over sparing in the Princess praise?
Edward.
Fame I accuse thee, thou did'st niggardize,
And faintly sound my loves perfections.
Great Lady Fortune, and fair Emperess,
Whom chance this day hath thrown into my arms,
More welcome than the Roman Emperess.
[Edward kisses her.
Hede.
See dodh, dass ist hier kein gebranch,
Mein Got ist dass dir Englisch manier, dass dich.
Edward.
What meaneth this? why chafes my Emperess?
Alphon.
Now by my troth, I did expect this jest,
Prince Edward us'd his Country fashion.
Edward.
I am an Englishman, why should I not?
18
Fy Nephew Edward, here in Germany
To kiss a Maid, a fault intollerable.
Edward.
Why should not German Maids be kist aswell as others?
Richard.
Nephew, because you did not know the fashion,
And want the language to excuse your self,
I'l be your spokes-man to your Emperess.
Edward.
Excuse it thus: I like the first so well,
That tell her, she shall chide me twice as much
For such another; nay tell her more than so,
I'l double kiss on kiss, and give her leave
To chide and braul, and cry ten thousand dass dich,
And make her weary of her fretting humour,
E're I be weary of my kissing vein,
Dass dich a Iungfraw angry for a kiss.
Empress.
Nephew, she thinks you mock her in her mirth.
Edward.
I think the Princes make a scorn of me.
If any do, I'l prove it with my Sword,
That English Courtship leaves it from the world.
Bohem.
The pleasant'st accident that I have seen.
Bran.
Me thinks the Prince is chaf'd as well as she.
Rich.
Gnediges frawlin.
Hede.
Dass dich, must ich arme kindt zu schanden gemacht werden.
Edward.
Dass dich I have kist as good as you,
Pray Unckle tell her; if she mislike the kiss,
I'l take it off agen with such an other.
Rich.
Ey Lirbes frawlin nim es all fur gutti
Es ist die Englisch manier Und gebrauche.
Hede.
Ewer gnaden weissts woll es ist mir ein grosse schande.
Edward.
Good Aunt teach me so much Dutch to ask her pardon.
Empress.
Say so: Gnediges frawlin vergebet mirs, ich wills nimmermehr thuen,
Then kiss your hand three times upsy Dutch.
Edward.
Ich wills nimmermehr thuen, if I understand it, right,
That's as much to say, as I'l do so no more.
Empr.
True Nephew.
Edward.
Nay Aunt pardon me I pray, I hope to kiss her many thousand times,
19
Empress.
I pray Cosin say as I tell you.
Edward.
Gnediges frawlin vergebet mirss ich wills nimmermehr thuen.
Alphon.
For wahr kein schandf.
Hedew.
Gnediger hochgeborner Furst vndt herr
Wan ich konte so vil englisch sprechen ich wolf ewer Gnaden.
Fur wahr ein filtz geben, ich hoffe aber ich soll emmahl
So viel lernen dass Die mich verstrhen soll.
Edward.
What says she?
Alphon.
O excellent young Prince look to your self,
She swears she'l learn some English for your sake,
To make you understand her when she chides.
Edward.
I'l teach her English, she shall teach me Dutch,
Gnediges frawlin, &c.
Bohem.
It is great pitty that the Duke of Saxon,
Is absent at this joyful accident,
I see no reason if his Grace were here,
But that the Marriage might be solemniz'd,
I think the Prince of Wales were well content.
Edward.
I left sweet England to none other end;
And though the Prince her Father be not here,
This Royal presence knows his mind in this.
Emp.
Since you do come so roundly to the purpose.
'Tis time for me to speak, the Maid is mine,
Giv'n freely by her Father unto me,
And to the end these broyls may have an end,
I give the Father's interest and mine own,
Unto my Nephew Edward Prince of Wales.
Edward.
A Jewel of incomparable price,
Your Majesty hath here bestowed on me,
How shall I ask her if she be content?
Empr.
Say thus, ist ewer gnaden Ivoll hiemit zufrieden.
Edward.
Ist ewer Gnaden woll hiemit zufrieden.
Hede.
Wass ihr durleichtigkeit dass will dass will mein vattter vndt
Wass mein vatter will darmit muss ich zufrieden sein.
Alphon.
It is enough, she doth confirm the match;
20
On Sunday shall the Revels and the Wedding,
Be both solemnized with mutual joy.
Sound trumpets, each one look unto his charge,
For preparation of the Festivals.
Exeunt.
Manent Alphonsus and Alexander.
Alphon.
Come hither Alexander, thy Fathers joy.
If tears and sighs, and deep-fetcht deadly groans,
Could serve t' evert inexorable fate,
Divine Lorenzo, whom in life my heart,
In death my soul and better part adores,
Had to thy comfort and his Prince's honour,
Surviv'd, and drawn this day this breath of life.
Alexan.
Dread Cæsar, prostrate on my bended Knee,
I thank your Majesty for all favours shewn
To my deceased Father and my self.
I must confess, I spend but bootless tears,
Yet cannot bridle nature, I must weep,
Or heart will break with burden of my thoughts;
Nor am I yet so young or fond withall,
Causless to spend my gall, and fret my heart,
'Tis not that he is dead, for all must dye;
But that I live to hear his lives reproach.
O sacred Emperour, these ears have heard,
What no Sons ears can unrevenged hear,
The Princes all of them, but specially,
The Prince Elector Archbishop of Collen,
Revil'd him by the names of murderer,
Arch villain, robber of the Empires fame,
And Cæsars tutor in all wickedness,
And with a general voice applaus'd his death,
As for a special good to Christendome.
Alphon.
Have they not reason to applaud the deed
Which they themselves have plotted? ah my Boy,
Thou art too young to dive into their drifts.
Alex.
Yet old enough I hope to be reveng'd.
Alphon.
What wilt thou do, or whither wilt thou run?
Alex.
Headlong to bring them death, then dye my self.
Alphon.
First hear the reason why I do mistrust them.
21
They had no reason for my Father's death,
And I scorn reason till they all be dead.
Alphon.
Thou wilt not scorn my Counsel in revenge?
Alex.
My rage admits no Counsel but revenge.
Alphon.
First let me tell thee whom I do mistrust.
Alex.
Your Highness said you did mistrust them all.
Alpho.
Yea Alexander, all of them, and more than all,
My most especiall neerest dearest friends.
Alex.
All's one to me, for know thou Emperour,
Were it thy Father, Brother, or thine Empress,
Yea were't thy self, that did'st conspire his death,
This fatal hand should take away thy life.
Alphon.
Spoke like a Son, worthy so dear a Father.
Be still and hearken, I will tell thee all,
The Duke of Saxon—
Alex.
O, I thought no less.
Alphon.
Suppress thy choler, hearken to the rest.
Saxon I say so wrought with flattering Mentz,
Mentz with Bohemia, Trier, and Brandenburg,
For Collen and the Palsgrave of the Rhein
Were principals with Saxon in the Plot,
That in a general meeting to that purpose,
The seven selected Emperours electors,
Most hainously concluded of the murder;
The reason why they doom'd him unto death,
Was his deep wisdom and sound policy;
Knowing while he did live my state was firm,
He being dead my hope must dye with him.
Now Alexander will we be reveng'd
Upon this wicked whore of Babylon,
This hideous monster with the seven-fold head:
We must with cunning level at the heart,
With pierc'd and perisht all the body dyes:
Or strike we off her heads by one and one,
Behooveth us to use dexterity,
Lest she do trample us under her feet,
And tryumph in our honours overthrow.
Alex.
Mad and amaz'd to hear this tragick doom,
I do subscribe unto your sound advice.
Alphon.
Then hear the rest; these seven gave but these ten
22
And but I lov'd Lorenzo as my life,
I never would betray my dearest Wife.
Alex.
What? what the Empress accessary to?
Alphon.
What cannot kindred do? her Brother Richard,
Hoping thereby to be an Emperour,
Gave her a dram that sent him to his grave.
Alex.
O my poor Father, wert thou such an eye-sore,
That 9. the greatest Princes of the earth
Must be consederate in thy tragedy?
But why do I respect their mightiness,
Who did not once respect my Fathers life?
Your Majesty may take it as you ylease,
I'l be reveng'd upon your Emperess,
On English Richard, Saxon, and the Palsgrave,
On Bohem, Collen, Mentz, Trier, and Brandenburg,
If that the Pope of Rome himself were one
In this confederacy, undaunted I,
Amidst the College of his Cardinals,
Would press, and stab him in St. Peters chair,
Though clad in all his Pontificalibus.
Alphon.
Why Alexander? do'st thou speak to me
As if thou didst mistrust my forwardness?
No, thou shalt know my love to him was such,
And in my heart I have proscrib'd them all,
That had to do in this conspiracy.
The bands of Wedlock shall not serve her turn,
Her fatal lot is cast among the rest,
And to conclude, my soul doth live in Hell
Till I have set my foot upon their necks,
That gave this spur of sorrow to my heart;
But with advice it must be managed,
Not with a head-long rage as thou intend'st,
Nor in a moment can it be perform'd,
This work requires long time, dissembling looks,
Commixt with undermining actions,
Watching advantages to execute.
Our foes are mighty, and their number great,
It therefore follows that our Stratagems
Must branch forth into manifold deceits,
23
Alexan.
What by your Majesty is prescrib'd to me,
That will I execute or dye the death.
I am content to suck my sorrows up,
And with dull patience will attend the time,
Gaping for every opportunity
That may present the least occasion;
Although each minute multiply mine anguish,
And to my view present a thousand forms
Of senseless bodies in my Fathers shape,
Yelling with open throat for just revenge.
Alphon.
Content thy self, he shall not cry in vain,
I have already plotted Richards death.
Alex.
That hath my Fathers sacred Ghost inspir'd,
O tell me, shall I stab him suddainly?
The time seems long, till I be set a work.
Alphon.
Thou knowest in griping at our lots to day,
It was Prince Richard's hap to be the bowr;
So that his Office is to drive the Cart,
And bring a load of Wood into the Kitchin.
Alex.
O excellent, your Grace being Forester,
As in the thicket he doth load the Cart,
May shoot him dead, as if he were a Deer.
Alphon.
No Alexander, that device were shallow,
Thus it must be, there are two very bowrs
Appointed for to help him in the Wood,
These must be brib'd or cunningly seduc'd,
Instead of helping him to murder him.
Ale.
Verbum satis sapienti, it is enough,
Fortune hath made me Marshal of the sports
I hope to Marshal them to th' Devils Feast.
Plot you the rest, this will I execute,
Dutch bowrs as towsandt schelms and gold to tempt them.
Alphon.
'Tis right, about it then, but cunningly.
Alex.
Else let me lose that good opinion
Which by your Highness I desire to hold,
By Letters which I'l strew within the Wood,
I'l undermine the bowrs to murder him,
Nor shall they know who set them so a work,
Like a familiar will I fly about,
24
Exit. Manet Alphonsus.
Alphon.
This one nayl helps to drive the other out,
I slew the Father, and bewitch the Son,
With power of words to be the instrument
To rid my foes with danger of his life.
How easily can subtil age intice,
Such credulous young novices to their death?
Huge wonders will Alphonsus bring to pass,
By the mad mind of this enraged Boy;
Even they which think themselves my greatest friends,
Shall fall by this deceit, yea my Arch-enemies
Shall turn to be my chief confederates.
My sollitary walks may breed suspect,
I'le therefore give my self to Companie,
As I intended nothing out these sports,
Yet hope to send most actors in this Pageant,
To Revel it with Rhadamant in Hell.
Exit.
Enter Richard Earl of Cornwall like a Clown.
Richard.
How far is Richard now unlike the man
That crost the Seas to win an Emperie?
But as I plod it like a plumper Bowr,
To fetch in Fewel for the Kitchin fire,
So every one in his vocation,
Labours to make the pastimes plausible;
My Nephew Edward jets it through the Court,
With Princess Hedewick Empress of his Fortune,
The demy Cæsar in his hunters suit,
Makes all the Court to Ring with Horns and Hounds,
Collen the Cook bestirs him in the Kitchin;
But that which joyes me most in all these sports,
Is Mentz, to see how he is made an Ass?
The common scorn and by-word of the Court;
And every one to be the same he seems,
Seems to forget to be the same he is.
Yet to my roabs I cannot suit my mind,
Nor with my habit shake dishonour off,
The seven Electors promis'd me the Empire,
The perjur'd Bishop Mentz did swear no less,
25
While my best friends do hide their heads for shame;
I bear a shew of outward full content,
But grief thereof hath almost kill'd my heart.
Here rest thee Richard, think upon a mean,
To end thy life, or to repair thine honour,
And vow never to see fair Englands bounds,
Till thou in Aix be Crowned Emperour.
Enter two Bowrs.
Holla, me thinks there cometh Company,
The Bowrs I troe that come to hew the Wood,
Which I must carry to the Kitchen Fire,
I'le lye a while and listen to their talk.
Enter Hans and Jerick two Dutch Bowrs.
Je.
Kom hier hans wore bist dow, warumb bist dow so
trawrick? viss frolick kan wel gelt verdienen, wir will ihn
bey potts tawsandt fodt schlagen.
Hans.
Lat mich die brieffe iehen.
Rich.
Me thinks they talk of murdering some body, I'l
listen more.
Reads the Letter.
Hans vnd Ierick, mein liebe freinde, ich bitte lasset es bey
euch bleiben in geheim, vnd schlaget den Engellander zu
todt.
Rich.
What's that? Hans
vnd
Jerick my good friend, I
pray be secret and murder the Englishman.
Jerick
reads.
Hear weiter, den er ist kein bowre nicht, er ist ein Iuncker,
vnd hatt viel gelt vnd kleinothen bey sich.
Rich.
For he is no Bowre but a Gentleman, and hath store
of Gold and Jewels by him.
Jeric.
Noch weiter: ihr solt solche gelegenheit nicht versahmen
vnd wan ihr gethan habet, ich will euch sagen, was
ich fur ein guter Rarl bin der euch raht gegeben habe.
Rich.
Slip not this opportunity, and when you have done,
I will discover who gave you the Counsel.
Jerick.
Wat sagst dow wilt dow es thun?
Hans.
Wat will ich nich fur gelt thun? see potts tausendf,
dar ist er.
26
Ia, bey potts tausends slapperment, er ists, holla
guter morgen, gluck zu Iuncker.
Hans.
Iuncker, der divell he is ein bowre!
Rich.
Dow bist ein schelm, weich von mir.
Jerick.
Holla, holla, bist dow so hoffertick? Iuncker
bowre, kompt hier, oder dieser vnd ienner selleuch holen.
Rich.
Ich bien ein Furst, bried mich nicht ihr schelms, ihr verrahters.
Bath.
Sla to, sla to, wir will yow furstlick tractieren.
Richard having nothing in his hand but his whip, defends himself a while, and then fall 's down as if he were dead:
Rich.
O Got, nimb meine seele in deine hande.
Jerick.
O excellent, hurtick he is todt, he is todt.
Lat vns see wat he hat for gelt bey sich, holla hier is all
enough all satt, dor is for dich, and dor is for mich, vnd ditt
willich darto haben:
Jerick puts the chain about his neck.
Hans.
How so Hans Narhals, geue mir die kette hier.
Jerick.
Ia ein dreck, dit kett stehet hupsch vmb mein hals,
ditt will ich tragen.
Hans.
Dat dich potts velten leiden, dat soltu nimmermehr
thun dow schelm.
Jerick.
Wat solt dow mich schelm heiten, nimb dat.
Hans.
Dat dich hundert tonnen divells, harr ich will dich lernen.
Jerick.
Wiltud hawen oder stechen?
Hans.
Ich will redlich hawen;
Jerick.
Nun wollan, dar ist mein ruck, sla to.
They must have axes made for the nonst to fight withall, and while one strikes, the other holds his back without defence.
Hans.
Nimb dow das, vnd dar hast mein ruck.
Jerick.
Noch amahl: O excellent, ligst dow dar, nun will
ich alles haben, gelt vnd kett, vnd alle mit einander, O hurtig,
frisch-vp lustig, nun bin ich ein hurtig Iuncker.
Richard rises up again and snatcheth up the fellows hatchet that was slain.
Rich.
Ne Hercules contra duos, yet pollicy hath gone beyond them both.
27
Du hudler schelm, morder, kehre dich, seettu mich? gebe
mir die kett vnd gelt wieder;
Jerick.
Wat bistu wieder labendig worden, so mus ich
meren, wat wiltu stechen oder hawen?
Richard.
So will ich machen du schelm
Jerick.
Harr, harr, bistu ein redlich karle, so fight redlich,
O ich sterb, ich sterb, lat mich leben!
Richard.
Sagt mir dan wer hatt die brieffe geschrieben?
Lie nicht sondern sagt die warheit:
Jerick.
O mein fromer, guter, edler, gestrenger Iuncker,
dar ist dat gelt vnd kett wieder, yow soll alles haben, aber
wer hatt die brieffe geschrieben, dat wet ich bey meiner seele
nicht.
Rich.
Lig dor still, still ich sag.
The villain swears, and deeply doth protest
He knows not who incited them to this,
And as it seems the scrowl imports no less.
So sterb du mir schelm.
Jerick.
O ich sterb, awe, awe, awe daf dich der divell hole!
As Richard kils the Bowr. Enter Saxon and the Palsgrave.
Saxon.
Fy dich an loser schelm, hastu dein gesellen todt geschlagen?
Palsgr.
Last vs den schelmen angreiffen.
Richard.
Call you me shelme how dare you then
Being Princes offer to lay hands on me?
That is the Hangmans Office here in Dutch-land.
Saxon.
But this is strange, our Bours can speak no English,
What bistum more than a damn'd murderer?
That thou art so much we are witnesses.
Rich.
Can then this habit alter me so much,
That I am call'd a villain by my friends?
Or shall I dare once to suspect your graces,
That for you could not make me Emperour,
Pittying my sorrow through mine honour lost,
You set these slaves to rid me of my life,
Yet far be such a thought from Richard's heart.
28
How now? what do I hear Prince Richard speak?
Rich.
The same: but wonder that he lives to speak.
And had not policy helpt above strength,
These sturdy swains had rid me of my life.
Sax.
Far be it from your Grace for to suspect us.
Rich.
Alas, I know not whom I should suspect;
But yet my heart cannot misdoubt your Graces?
Saxon.
How came your Highness into this apparrel?
Rich.
We as the manner is drew lots for Offices,
My hap was hardest to be made a Carter,
And by this letter which some villain wrote,
I was betray'd, here to be murdered;
But Heav'n which doth defend the Innocent,
Arm'd me with strength and policy together,
That I escap'd out of their treacherous snare.
Pals.
Were it well sounded, I dare lay my life,
The Spanish tyrant knew of this conspiracie,
Therefore the better to dive into the depth
Of this most devillish murderous complot,
As also secretly to be beholders,
Of the long-wisht for wedding of your daughter,
We will disrobe these bowrs of their apparrel,
Clapping their rustick cases on our backs,
And help your Highness for to drive the Cart.
T' may be the traytor that did write these lines,
Mistaking us for them will shew himself.
Richard.
Prince Palatine this plot doth please me well,
I make no doubt if we deal cunningly,
But we shall find the writer of this scroul.
Saxon.
And in that hope I will disrobe this slave.
Come Princes in the neighbouring thicket here,
We may disguise our selves, and talk at pleasure;
Fye on him heavy lubber how he weighs.
Richard.
The sin of murder hangs upon his soul,
It is no mervail then if he be heavy.
Exeunt.
| The Tragedy of Alphonsus Emperour of Germany | |