University of Virginia Library

Scena 3.

Enter Monmouth the vsurper in armes with Souldiers.
Mon.
Now valiant Countreymen, once more prepare
Your hands and hearts vnto a bloudy fight.
Sterne Mars beginnes to buckle on his helme,
And waues his sanguine colours in the ayre:
Recount, braue spirits, two glorious victories,
Got with the death of many thousand soules.
Thinke on the cause, for which we stand ingagde,
Euen to the hazard of our goods and liues:
That were Octauians forces like the starres,
Beyond the limits of Arithmetike:
Or equall to the mighty Xerxes hoste:
Yet like the poles, our dauntlesse courage stands,
Vnshaken by their feeble multitudes.
The Drum beats afarre off.
But soft: what Drum is this? Souldiers, look out.
Did Cesar come, this welcome he should haue,
Strong armes, bigge hearts, and to conclude, a graue.

Souldiers.
My Lord Octauian,
Backt with the Earle of March and his three sonnes,
Intends to giue you battell.

Mon.
No more, no more: fond doting Earle:
Is not there roome enough within Churchyards,
To earth his aged bodie, with his sonnes,
But hee must hither come to make their graues?
Drums, beat aloud. Ile not articulate.
My soule is drown'd in tage. This bloudy fight
Shall toombe their bodies in eternal night.

Exeunt. Alarum.
Enter Cadallan wounded, with his sonnes.
Caradoc.
Rot from his cursed trunke that villaines arme,
That gaue this fatall wound to reuerend age.
How fares our Princely father?

Cad.
As fares the sicke man, when the nights blacke bird
Beates at his casements with his sable wings:
Or as the halfe dead captiue being condemn'd,
Awaites the churlish Iaylors fearefull call
Out of his lothsome dungeon to his death:
So fares it with the wounded Earle of March:
The current of my bloud begins to freeze,
Toucht by the Icy power of gelid death:
A sad Eclipse darkens these two bright lights:
My vitall spirits faint, my pulses cease,
And natures frame dissolues to natures peace,
All by that damn'd vsurper.

He dies.
Cara.
Eternall peace, free from the hate of men,
Inspheare thy soule, and mount it to the stars.
Brothers, surcease your griefe, goe to the field,
Cheare vp the Souldiers, whilst I single forth
This bloudy Monmouth, that I may sacrifice
His canceld life vnto my fathers ghost,
And rid the land of this Egean filth,
His vsurpation stables. Oh, tis good,
To scourge with death, that crying sinne of bloud.

Morgan meets Caradoc going in.
Morgan.

Cousin Caradoc, well, in all these pribble prabbles,
I pray you, how dooth our vncle Cadallan? bee
Cad, I heard he had got a knocke: if it bee so, I pray you
looke that the leane Caniball, what doe you call him that

eate vp Iulius Cesars and Pompeyes: a saucy knaue, that cares
no more for Kings, then lowsie beggers & Chimney-sweepers.

Cara.

Why, death, man.

Morgan.

I, I, Death, a poxe on her: as Cad shudge mee,
hee will eate more Emperours and Kings at one meale, then
some Taylors halfe penny loaues, or Vsurers decayed shentlemen
in a whole yeare: therefore I pray you Cousin, haue
a care of her vncle.

Cara.

He is in heauen already.

Morgan.

In heauen! why did you let her goe thither?

Cara.

It is a place of rest, and Angels blisse.

Morgan.

Angells! Cots blue-hood: I warrant her, there
is ne're a Lawyer in the whole orld, but had rather haue eleuen
shillings, then the best Anshell in heauen. I pray you
who sent her thither?

Cara.
I cannot tell, but from his dying tongue
He did report Monmouth the bloudy meanes.

Morgan.

Monmouth! Iesu Christ! did hee send her vncle
to Saint Peters and Saint Paules, and not suffer her cousin
Morgan to bid her Nos Dhieu? harke you, Cousin, Ile seeke
her out be Cad. Farewell, Cousin, Ile make her pring packe
her Nuncle with a venshance.

Cara.
Farewell, good Cousin; whilst I range about
The mangled bodies of this bloudy field,
To finde the Traytor forth, whose spotted soule
Ile send posthaste vnto that low Abisse,
That with the snaky furies he may dwell,
And ease Promotheus of his paines in hell.

Alarum againe.
Enter at one dore Monmouth with Souldiers, at the other Codigune: they fight: Monmouth beates them in; then enter Caradoc at the other.
Caradoc.
Turne thee, Vsurper, Harpey of this Clime,
Ambitious villaine, damned homicide.

Mon.
Fondling, thou speakest in too milde consonants:
Thy ayry words cannot awake my spleene:
Thou woundst the subtle body of the ayre,
In whose concauity we stand immured:
Thou giuest me cordials, and not vomits now:
Thy Physicke will not worke: these names thou speakst,
Fill vp each spongy pore vviihin my flesh,
With ioy intolerable: and thy kind salutes
Of villany, and ambition, best befits
The royall thoughts of Kings: Reade Machiauell:
Princes that would aspire, must mocke at hell.

Cara.
Out, thou incarnate Deuill; garde thee, slaue:
Although thou fear'st not hell, Ile dig thy graue.

Mon.
Stay, Prince, take measure of me first.

Cara.
The Deuill hath done that long ago.

Alarum there.
They both fight, and Caradoc killeth him.
Enter Constantine.
Const.
Surcease, braue brother; Fortune hath crownd our browes
With a victorious wreath; Their Souldiers flee,
And all their Army is discomfited.
The King sounds a retreat. What is the Traytor dead?
This act hath purchast honour to our name,
And crownde thee with immortall memory.
Off with his head: and let the King behold,
His greatest foe and care lies dead and cold.