 | The Tragedy of Alphonsus Emperour of Germany |  |
ACT. IV.
Enter Saxon and Richard with Souldiers.Saxon.
My Lord of Cornwall, let us march before,
To speedy rescue of our dearest friends,
The rereward with the armed Legions,
Committed to the Prince of Collen's charge,
Cannot so lightly pass the mountain tops.
Richard.
Let's summon sudainly unto a Parly,
I do not doubt but e're we need their helps,
Collen with all his forces will be here.
Enter Collen with Drums and an Army.
Richard.
Your Holiness hath made good hast to day,
And like a beaten Souldier lead your troops.
Collen.
In time of peace I am an Arch-Bishop,
And like a Church-man can both sing and say;
But when the innocent do suffer wrong,
I cast my rocket off upon the Altar,
And like a Prince betake my self to arms.
Enter above Mentz, Tryer, and Brandenburg.
Mentz.
Great Prince of Saxonie, what mean these arms?
Richard of Cornwall, what may this intend?
Brother of Collen no more Churchman now,
Instead of Miter, and a Crossier Staff,
Have you betane you to your Helm and Targe?
Were you so merry yesterday as friends,
Cloaking your treason in your Clowns attire?
Saxon.
Mentz, we return the traytor in thy face.
To save our lives, and to release our friends,
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Without intent of ill, this power is rais'd;
Therefore grave Prince Marquess of Brandenburg,
My loving Cosin, as indifferent Judge,
To you an aged Peace-maker we speak,
Deliver with safe conduct in our tents,
Prince Edward and his Bride, the Pallatine,
With every one of high or low degree,
That are suspicious of the King of Spain,
So shall you see that in the self same howr
We marched to the Walls with colours spread,
We will cashier our troups, and part good friends.
Brand.
Alas my Lord, crave you the Pallatine?
Rich.
If craving will not serve, we will command.
Brand.
Ah me, since your departure, good my Lords,
Strange accidents of bloud and death are hapned.
Saxon.
My mind misgave a massacre this night.
Rich.
How do's Prince Edward then?
Sax.
How do's my Daughter?
Collen.
How goes it with the Palsgrave of the Rhein?
Brand.
Prince Edward and his Bridle do live in health,
And shall be brought unto you when you please.
Saxon.
Let them be presently deliver'd?
Coll.
Lives not the Palsgrave too?
Mentz.
In Heaven or Hell he lives, and reaps the merrit
of his deeds.
Coll.
What damned hand hath butchered the Prince?
Saxon.
O that demand is needless, who but he,
That seeks to be the Butcher of us all;
But vengeance and revenge shall light on him.
Bran.
Be patient noble Princes, hear the rest.
The two great Kings of Bohem and Castile,
God comfort them, lie now at point of death,
Both poyson'd by the Palsgrave yesterday.
Rich.
How is that possible? so must my Sister,
The Pallatine himself, and Alexander,
Who drunk out of the bowl, be poysoned too.
Mentz.
Nor is that hainous deed alone the cause,
Though cause enough to ruin Monarchies;
He hath defil'd with lust th' Imperial Bed,
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Collen.
O worthy guiltless Prince, O had he fled.
Rich.
But say where is the Empress, where's my Sister.
Mentz.
Not burnt to ashes yet, but shall be shortly.
Rich.
I hope her Majesty will live to see
A hundred thousand flattering turncoat slaves,
Such as your Holiness, dye a shameful death.
Brand.
She is in prison, and attends her tryal.
Saxon.
O strange heart-breaking mischievous intents,
Give me my children if you love your lives,
No safety is in this enchanted Fort.
O see in happy hour there comes my Daughter,
And loving son, scapt from the Massacre.
Enter Edward and Hedewick.
Edward.
My body lives, although my heart be slain,
O Princes this hath been the dismall'st night,
That ever eye of sorrow did behold,
Here lay the Palsgrave weltring in his bloud,
Dying Alphonsus standing over him,
Upon the other hand the King of Bohem,
Still looking when his poyson'd bulk would break;
But that which pierc'd my soul with natures touch
Was my tormented Aunt with blubberd cheeks,
Torn bloody Garments, and dishevel'd hair,
Waiting for death; deservedly or no,
That knows the searcher of all humane thoughts;
For these devices are beyond my reach.
Saxon.
Sast dorh liches doister, who wart dow dicselbirmasl.
Hede.
Ais who who solt ich sem ich war in bette.
Saxon.
Wert dow allrin so wart dow gar vorschrocken.
Hede.
Ich ha mist audes gememt dam das ich wolt allrin
gesiflaffne haben, abur vmb mitternaist kam mriner bridegroom,
bundt sislaffet bep mir, bis wir mit dem getunnuel
erwacht waren.
Edward.
What says she? came her Bridegroom to her at midnight?
Rich.
Nephew, I see you were not over-reach'd;
Although she slipt out of your arms at first,
You ceiz'd her surely, e're you left the chace.
Saxon.
But left your Grace, your Bride alone in Bed?
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Edward.
Alas my Lords, this is no time to jest;
I lay full sadly in my Bed alone,
Not able for my life to sleep a wink,
Till that the Larum Bell began to Ring,
And then I started from my weary couch.
Saxon.
How now? this rimes not with my daughters speech,
She says you found her Bed, and lay with her.
Edward.
Not I, your Highness did mistake her words.
Collen.
Deny it not Prince Edward, 'tis an honour.
Edward.
My Lords I know no reason to deny it;
T' have found her Bed, I would have given a million.
Saxon.
Hedewick der Furst sagt er fatt mist be dir schlafin.
Hede.
Es gefelt ihm also zum sagun aber ich habes woll gerfralet.
Rich.
She say's you are dispos'd to jest with her;
But yesternight she felt it in good earnest.
Edward.
Unckle these jests are too unsavorie,
Ill suited to these times, and please me not,
Lab ich bin you geshlapen yesternight.
Hede.
I leff, warum snlt ihrs fragen.
Saxon.
Edward, I tell thee 'tis no jesting matter,
Say plainly, wa'st thou by her I or no?
Edward.
As I am Prince, true heir to Englands Crown,
I never toucht her body in a Bed.
Hede.
Das haste gethan order holle mich der divell.
Richard.
Nephew, take heed, you hear the Princess words.
Edward.
It is not she, nor you, nor all the world,
Shall make me say I did anothers deed.
Saxon.
Anothers deed? what think'st thou her a whore?
Saxon strikes Edward.
Edward.
She may be Whore, and thou a villain too.
Strook me the Emperour I will strike again.
Collen.
Content you Princes, buffet not like boys.
Richard.
Hold you the one, and I will hold the other.
Hede.
O her got, help, help, oich arms kindt.
Saxon.
Souldiers lay hands upon the Prince of Wales,
Convey him speedily unto a prison,
And load his Legs with grievous bolts of Iron;
Some bring the Whore my Daughter from my sight;
And thou smooth Englishman to thee I speak,
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Pack thee out of my sight, and that with speed
Your English practises have all to long,
Muffled our German eyes, pack, pack I say.
Richard.
Although your Grace have reason for your rage,
Yet be not like a madman to your friends.
Saxon.
My friends? I scorn the friendship of such mates,
That seek my Daughters spoil, and my dishonour;
But I will teach the Boy another lesson,
His head shall pay the ransom of his fault.
Richard.
His head?
Saxon.
And thy head too, O how my heart doth swell!
Was there no other Prince to mock but me?
First woo, then marry her, then lye with her,
And having had the pleasure of her Bed,
Call her a Whore in open audience,
None but a villain and a slave would do it,
My Lords of Mentz, of Tryer, and Brandenburg,
Make ope the Gates, receive me as a friend,
I'le be a scourge unto the English Nation.
Mentz.
Your Grace shall be the welcom'st guest alive,
Collen.
None but a madman would do such a deed.
Saxon.
Then Collen count me mad, for I will do it.
I'le set my life and Land upon the hazard,
But I will thoroughly sound this deceit.
What will your Grace leave me or follow me?
Collen.
No Saxon know I will not follow thee,
And leave Prince Richard in so great extreams.
Saxon.
Then I defy you both, and so farwell.
Rich.
Yet Saxon hear me speak before thou go,
Look to the Princes life as to thine own,
Each perisht hair that falleth from his head
By thy default, shall cost a Saxon City,
Henry of England will not lose his heir,
And so farwel and think upon my words.
Saxon.
Away, I do disdain to answer thee,
Pack thee with shame again into thy Countrie,
I'le have a Cock-boat at my proper charge,
And send th'Imperial Crown which thou hast won,
To England by Prince Edward after thee.
Exeunt.
Man. Rich. and Coll.
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Answer him not Prince Richard, he is mad,
Choler and grief have rob'd him of his senses.
Like accident to this was never heard.
Rich.
Break heart and dye, flie hence my troubled spirit,
I am not able for to underbear
The weight of sorrow which doth bruze my soul,
O Edward, O sweet Edward, O my life.
O noble Collen last of all my hopes,
The only friend in my extremities,
If thou doest love me, as I know thou doest,
Unsheath thy sword, and rid me of this sorrow.
Collen.
Away with abject thoughts, fie Princely Richard,
Rouze up thy self, and call thy senses home,
Shake of this base pusillanimitie,
And cast about to remedie these wrongs.
Richard.
Alas I see no means of remedie.
Collen.
Then hearken to my Counsel and advice,
We will Intrench our selves not far from hence,
With those small pow'rs we have, and send for more,
If they do make assault, we will defend;
If violence be offer'd to the Prince,
We'l rescue him with venture of our lives;
Let us with patience attend advantage,
Time may reveal the author of these treasons,
For why undoubtedly the sweet young Princess,
Fowly beguild by night with cunning shew,
Hath to some villain lost her Maiden-head.
Rich.
O that I knew the foul incestuous wretch,
Thus would I tear him with my teeth and nails.
Had Saxon sense he would conceave so much,
And not revenge on guiltless Edwards life.
Collen.
Perswade your self he will be twice advis'd,
Before he offer wrong unto the Prince.
Rich.
In that good hope I will have patience.
Come gentle Prince whose pitty to a stranger
Is rare and admirable, not to be spoken.
England cannot requite this gentleness.
Collen.
Tush talk not of requital, let us go,
To fortifie our selves within our trench.
Exeunt.
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Alphon.
O most excessive pain, O raging Fire!
Is burning Cancer or the Scorpion,
Descended from the Heavenly Zodiack,
To parch mine Entrals with a quenchless flame?
Drink, drink I say, give drink or I shall dye.
Fill a thousand bowls of Wine, Water I say
Water from forth the cold Tartarian hils.
I feel th' ascending flame lick up my blood,
Mine Entrals shrink together like a scrowl
Of burning parchment, and my Marrow fries,
Bring hugie Cakes of Ice, and Flakes of Snow,
That I may drink of them being dissolved.
Saxon.
We do beseech your Majestie have patience,
Alphon.
Had I but drunk an ordinary poyson,
The sight of thee great Duke of Saxony,
My friend in death, in life my greatest foe,
Might both allay the venom and the torment;
But that adulterous Palsgrave and my Wife,
Upon whose life and soul I vengeance cry,
Gave me a mineral not to be digested,
Which burning eats, and eating burns my heart.
My Lord of Tryer, run to the King of Bohem,
Commend me to him, ask him how he fares,
None but my self can rightly pitty him;
For none but we have sympathie of pains.
Tell him when he is dead, my time's not long,
And when I dye bid him prepare to follow.
Exit. Tryer.
Now, now it works a fresh; are you my friends?
Then throw me on the cold swift running Rhyn,
And let me bath there for an hour or two,
I cannot bear this pain.
Mentz.
O would th' unpartial fates afflict on me,
These deadly pains, and ease my Emperour,
How willing would I bear them for his sake.
Alphon.
O Mentz, I would not wish unto a Dog,
The least of thousand torments that afflict me,
Much less unto your Princely holiness.
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Mentz.
It is your fantasie and nothing else;
But were death here, I would dispute with him,
And tell him to his teeth he doth unjustice,
To take your Majesty in the prime of youth;
Such wither'd rotten branches as my self,
Should first be lopt, had he not partial hands;
And here I do protest upon my Knee,
I would as willingly now leave my life,
To save my King and Emperour alive,
As erst my Mother brought me to the world.
Brand.
My Lord of Mentz, this flattery is too gross,
A Prince of your experience and calling,
Should not so fondly call the Heavens to witness.
Mentz.
Think you my Lord, I would not hold my word?
Brand.
You know my Lord, death is a bitter guest.
Mentz.
To ease his pain and save my Emperour,
I sweetly would embrace that bitterness.
Alex.
If I were death, I knew what I would do.
Mentz.
But see, his Majesty is faln a sleep,
Ah me, I fear it is a dying slumber.
Alphon.
My Lord of Saxonie do you hear this jest.
Saxon.
What should I hear my Lord?
Alphon.
Do you not hear
How loudly death proclames it in mine ears,
Swearing by trophies, Tombs and deadmens Graves,
If I have any friend so dear to me,
That to excuse my life will lose his own,
I shall be presently restor'd to health.
Enter Tryer.
Mentz.
I would he durst make good his promises.
Alphon.
My Lord of Tryer, how fares my fellow Emperour?
Tryer.
His Majesty is eas'd of all his pains.
Alphon.
O happy news, now have I hope of health.
Mentz.
My joyful heart doth spring within my bodie,
To hear those words,
Comfort your Majestie I will excuse you,
Or at the least will bear you Company.
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My hope is vain, now, now my heart will break,
My Lord of Tryer you did but flatter me,
Tell me the truth, how fares his Majestie.
Tryer.
I told your Highness, eas'd of all his pain.
Alphon.
I understand thee now, he's eas'd by death,
And now I feel an alteration;
Farewel sweet Lords, farewel my Lord of Mentz,
The truest friend that ever earth did bear,
Live long in happiness to revenge my death,
Upon my Wife and all the English brood.
My Lord of Saxonie your Grace hath cause.
Mentz.
I dare thee death to take away my life.
Some charitable hand that loves his Prince,
And hath the heart, draw forth his Sword and rid me of my life.
Alex.
I love my Prince, and have the heart to do it.
Mentz.
O stay a while.
Alex.
Nay now it is to late.
Bran.
Villain what hast thou done? th'ast slain a Prince.
Alex.
I did no more than he intreated me,
Alphon.
How now, what make I in my Couch so late?
Princes why stand you so gazing about me?
Or who is that lies slain before my face?
O I have wrong, my soul was half in Heaven,
His holiness did know the joys above,
And therefore is ascended in my stead.
Come Princes let us bear the body hence;
I'le spend a Million to embalm the same.
Let all the Bels within the Empire Ring,
Let Mass be said in every Church and Chappel,
And that I may perform my latest vow,
I will procure so much by Gold or friends,
That my sweet Mentz shall be Canonized,
And numbred in the Bed-role of the Saints,
I hope the Pope will not deny it me,
I'le build a Church in honour of thy name,
Within the antient famous Citie Mentz,
Fairer than any one in Germany,
There shalt thou be interrd with Kingly Pomp,
Over thy Tomb shall hang a sacred Lamp,
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Yea after ages shall speak of thy renown,
And go a Pilgrimage to thy sacred Tomb.
Grief stops my voice, who loves his Emperour,
Lay to his helping hand and bear him hence,
Sweet Father and redeemer of my life.
Exeunt.
Manet Alexander.
Alex.
Now is my Lord sole Emperour of Rome,
And three Conspirators of my Fathers death,
Are cunningly sent unto Heaven or Hell;
Like subtilty to this was never seen.
Alas poor Mentz I pittying thy prayers,
Could do no less than lend a helping hand,
Thou wert a famous flatterer in thy life,
And now hast reapt the fruits thereof in death;
But thou shalt be rewarded like a Saint,
With Masses, Bels, dirges and burning Lamps;
'Tis good, I envie not thy happiness:
But ah the sweet remembrance of that night,
That night I mean of sweetness and of stealth,
When for a Prince, a Princess did imbrace me,
Paying the first fruits of her Marriage Bed,
Makes me forget all other accidents.
O Saxon I would willingly forgive,
The deadly trespass of my Fathers death,
So I might have thy Daughter to my Wife,
And to be plain, I have best right unto her,
And love her best, and have deserv'd her best;
But thou art fond to think on such a match;
Thou must imagin nothing but revenge,
And if my computation fail me not,
Ere long I shall be thorowly reveng'd.
Exit.
Enter the Duke of Saxon, and Hedewick with the Child.
Saxon.
Come forth thou perfect map of miserie,
Desolate Daughter and distressed Mother,
In whom the Father and the Son are curst;
Thus once again we will assay the Prince.
'T may be the sight of his own flesh and blood
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Jailor how fares it with thy prisoner?
Let him appear upon the battlements.
Hede.
O mein deere vatter, ich habe in dis lang lang 30.
weeken, welche mich duncket sein 40. iahr gewesen, ein litte
Englisch gelernet, vnd ich hope, he will me verstohn, vnd
shew me a litte pittie.
Enter Edward on the Walls and Jailor.
Saxon.
Good morrow to your grace Edward of Wales,
Son and immediate Heir to Henry the third,
King of England and Lord of Ireland,
Thy Fathers comfort, and the peoples hope;
'Tis not in mockage nor at unawares,
That I am ceremonious to repeat
Thy high descent joynd with thy Kingly might;
But therewithall to intimate unto thee
What God expecteth from the higher powers,
Justice, and mercie, truth, sobrietie,
Relenting hearts, hands innocent of blood.
Princes are Gods chief substitutes on earth,
And should be Lamps unto the common sort.
But you will say I am become a Preacher,
No, Prince, I am an humble suppliant,
And to prepare thine ears make this exordium,
To pierce thine eyes and heart, behold this spectacle,
Three Generations of the Saxon blood,
Descended lineallie from forth my Loyns,
Kneeling and crying to thy mightiness;
First look on me, and think what I have been,
For now I think my self of no account,
Next Cæsar, greatest man in Germanie;
Neerly a lyed, and ever friend to England;
But Womens sighs move more in manly hearts,
O see the hands she elevates to Heaven,
Behold those eyes that whilome were thy joyes,
Uttering domb eloquence in Christal tears;
If these exclames and sights be ordinarie,
Then look with pittie on thy other self,
This is thy flesh, and blood, bone of thy bone,
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Turn'st thou away? O were thy Father here,
He would, as I do, take him in his arms,
And sweetly kiss his Grand-child in the face.
O Edward too young in experience,
That canst not look into the grievous wrack,
Ensuing this thy obstinate deniall;
O Edward too young in experience,
That canst not see into the future good,
Ensuing thy most just acknowledgement;
Hear me thy truest friend, I will repeat them;
For good thou hast an Heir indubitate,
Whose eyes already sparckle Majesty,
Born in true Wedlock of a Princely Mother,
And all the German Princes to thy friends;
Where on the contrary thine eyes shall see,
The speedy Tragedie of thee and thine;
Like Athamas first will I ceize upon
Thy young unchristened and despised Son,
And with his guiltless brains bepaint the Stones;
Then like Virginius will I kill my Child,
Unto thine eyes a pleasing spectacle;
Yet shall it be a momentarie pleasure,
Henry of England shall mourn with me;
For thou thy self Edward shall make the third,
And be an actor in this bloody Scean.
Hede.
Ah myne seete Edouart, mein herzkin, myne scherzkin,
mein herziges, einiges herz, mein allerleivest husband,
I preedee mein leefe see me friendlich one, good seete harte
tell de trut: and at lest to me, and dyne allerleefest schild shew
pitty! dan ich bin dyne, vnd dow bist myne, dow hast me geven
ein kindelein; O Edouart, seete, Edouart erbarmet
sein!
Edw.
O Hedewick peace, thy speeches pierce my soul.
Hede.
Hedewick doe yow excellencie hight me Hedewick
seete Edouart yow weete ich bin yowr allerlieueste wife.
Edward.
The Priest I must confess made thee my Wife,
Curst be the damned villanous adulterer,
That with so fowl a blot divorc'd our love.
Hede.
O mein allerlievester, hieborne Furst vnd Herr,
dinck dat unser Herr Gott sitts in himmells trone, and sees
55
dat hart vnd will my cause woll recken:
Saxon.
Edward hold me not up with long delays;
But quickly say, wilt thou confess the truth?
Edward.
As true as I am born of Kingly Linage,
And am the best Plantagenet next my Father,
I never carnallie did touch her body.
Saxon.
Edward this answer had we long ago,
Seest thou this brat? speak quickly or he dyes.
Edward.
His death will be more piercing to thine eyes,
Than unto mine, he is not of my kin.
Hede.
O Father, O myne Uatter spare myne kindt
O Edouart O Prince Edouart spreak now oder nimmermehr
die kindt ist mein, it soll nicht sterben:
Saxon.
Have I dishonoured my self so much,
To bow my Knee to thee, which never bow'd
But to my God, and am I thus rewarded?
Is he not thine? speak murderous-minded Prince.
Edward.
O Saxon, Saxon mitigate thy rage.
First thy exceeding great humilitie,
When to thy captive prisoner thou didst kneel,
Had almost made my lying tongue confess,
The deed which I protest I never did;
But thy not causeless furious madding humour,
Together with thy Daughters pitious cryes,
Whom as my life and soul I dearly love,
Had thorowly almost perswaded me,
To save her honour and belie my self,
And were I not a Prince of so high blood,
And Bastards have no scepter-bearing hands,
I would in silence smother up this blot,
And in compassion of thy Daughters wrong,
Be counted Father to an others Child;
For why my soul knows her unguiltiness.
Saxon.
Smooth words in bitter sense; is thine answer?
Hede.
Ey vatter geue mir mein kindt, die kind ist mein.
Saxon.
Das weis ich woll, er sagt es ist nicht sein; therefore it dyes.
He dashes out the Childs brains.
Hede.
O Got in seinem trone, O mein kindt mein kindt.
Saxon.
There murderer take his head, and breathless lymbs,
56
Eat that, or dye for hunger, I protest,
Thou getst no other food till that be spent.
And now to thee lewd Whore, dishonour'd strumpet,
Thy turn is next, therefore prepare to dye.
Edward.
O mighty Duke of Saxon, spare thy Child.
Sax.
She is thy Wife Edward, and thou shouldst spare her.
One Gracious word of thine will save her life.
Edward.
I do confess Saxon she is mine own,
As I have marryed her, I will live with her,
Comfort thy self sweet Hedewick and sweet Wife.
Hede.
Ach, ach vnd wehe, warumb sagt your Excellence
nicht so before, now ist to late, vnser arme kindt ist kilt.
Edward.
Though thou be mine, and I do pittie thee,
I would not Nurse a Bastard for a Son.
Hede.
O Edouard nowich mark your mening ich sholdt
be your whore, mein Uatter ich begehr upon meine knee, last
mich lieber sterben, ade falce Edouart, falce Prince, ich begehrs
nicht.
Saxon.
Unprincely thoughts do hammer in thy head,
I'st not enough that thou hast sham'd her once,
And seen the Bastard torn before thy face;
But thou wouldst get more brats for Butcherie?
No Hedewick thou shalt not live the day.
Hede.
O Herr Gott, nimb meine feele in deiner henden.
Saxon.
It is thy hand that gives this deadly stroak.
Hede.
O Herr Sabote, das mein vnschuldt an tag kommen mocht.
Edward.
Her blood be on that wretched villains head,
That is the cause of all this misery.
Saxon.
Now murderous-minded Prince, hast thou beheld
Vpon my Child, and Childs Child, thy desire,
Swear to thy self, that here I firmly swear,
That thou shall surely follow her to morrow.
In Company of thy adulterous Aunt,
Jaylor convey him to his Dungeon,
If he be hungrie, I have thrown him meat,
If thirstie let him suck the newly born lymbs.
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O Heavens and Heavenly powers, if you be just,
Reward the author of this wickedness.
Exit. Edw. & Jaoler.
Enter Alexander.
Alex.
To arms great Duke of Saxonie, to arms,
My Lord of Collen, and the Earl of Cornwall,
In rescue of Prince Edward and the Empress,
Have levy'd fresh supplies, and presently
Will bid you battail in the open Field.
Sax.
They never could have come in fitter time;
Thirst they for blood? and they shall quench their thirst.
Alex.
O piteous spectacle! poor Princess Hedewick.
Sax.
Stand not to pittie, lend a helping hand.
Alex.
What slave hath murdered this guiltless Child?
Sax.
What? dar'st thou call me slave unto my face?
I tell thee villain, I have done this deed,
And seeing the Father and the Grand-sires heart,
Can give consent and execute their own,
Wherefore should such a rascal as thy self
Presume to pittie them, whom we have slain?
Alex.
Pardon me, if it be presumption
To pittie them, I will presume no more.
Sax.
Then help, I long to be amidst my foes.
Exeunt.
| The Tragedy of Alphonsus Emperour of Germany | |