University of Virginia Library

Actus Primus.

Enter Foxe.
Fox.
Knights, Gentlemen, and Yeomen,
attend her Graces seruice; sheele abroad.

Enter Cranwell vshering the Dutches of Suffolke, a Gentlewoman bearing vp her trayne, Bertie, and Gentlemen.
at the other doore Beggers.
Cran.
Be vncoverd Gentelmen.

Fox.
Rome there, backe Beggers.

Dutch.
Bertie, deale mine Almes.

Ber.
Pray for the Dutches, friends.

Beg.
Heavens preserue your Grace.
Exeunt Beg.

Enter one with a Letter, delivers it kneeling.
Dut.
What saiest thou? from my King? I kisse his lines,
As humbly as my infant penitence,
When due correction threatned mine offence:
She reads and smiles,
I may intreat the Palatine with grace,
All curtesie and favours, for my Soveraignes sake,
I will present him with smooth countenance,
But for the poynt heere touching Marriage,
Beseech my Prince of pardon, since, as yet,
My Widdowes teares are scarce wipt from my cheeke,
Touching the businesse, boute Sir Roger Willowbie,
My deere neere kinseman, Ile not returne
You empty handed backe, but send
His highnesse Parram Lordship to dispose,
And thanke his gratious providence for him.
Returne my salutations on my knee,
And say my whole possessions are all his,
Berty reward his paines, On;
Enter Gardner to the Tower guarded.
Stay, and know the reason of that guard,
How? giue mine eyes the fulnesse of their wish,
Skreene not my Ioyes, I pray stand all aside,
My Gossip Gardner led vnto the Tower,
Tis pitty, nay man leaue your curtesie,
My passion has no teares to answer you,
Truth now I hope hath got a holliday,
Exit Gardner.
The tyrant Wolfe in hould, the Lambes may play,
Forward to Sussex house in Barnisby street:
More obiects yet of comfort? what is he?

Enter Bonner guarded to prison.
Fox.
Bonner commanded to the Martialsie.

Dut.
Fagots will then grow cheape, they say, my Lord,
That you haue bought vp all our fire wood,
To send vs in a shining flame to heauen,
But Bertie, see how leane has studdy made him,
And his care with sweating in represse of errors,
Enter Sands.
An Ell will hardly girdle his leane wast.
Sands, Ile defer your welcome yet from Cambridge,
To shew you heere a president of zeale.

Bonn.
Madam hase scornes liue not with charity,
My conscience is content to beare this crosse.

Dutch.
And mine as well content that thou should'st beare it,
think'st thou I will disburthen thy content,
Good man thou art deceiv'd, my charity
Shuts vp the doores against thy misery,
I tell thee, all my sorrowes are dried vp,
With this sweete breath of comfort, to see thee,
Infranchise truth by thy captivity.

Bonn.
Time flaters you awhile, heaven has a power,
Can change the White to Sable in an houre,
My welthier thoughts, yet tell me I shall liue,
these scornes to quittance, your free heart to greeue,
For time is rich in ransome, she may rayse,
Exit with gard.
the scorn'd and captiv'd Bonner, ware those dayes.

Dutch.
If Englands sinne deserues that curse againe,
Doubtlesse my life the truth should still maintaine.

Sand.
The grace of heaven make strong that your resolue.

Dutch.
Tut Sands, I am no novice to beare off
The gusty shocke of danger, heere is proofe,
Hath bid the Cannon of rough threatning griefe,
The deaths of one deere Husband, and two Sonnes,
(Regenerate in the fame of their deserts.)
Haue made a violent shot against this brest,
But by the manly courage of that ioy,
Is knit vnto my spirits, to behold
The exild truth, now soiourning with time,
The rage of their repugnancie recoyles,
And I am Mistris of a Virgin heart.

Bert.
With pardon gratious Madam,
Could Berties rude perswasion please your eares,
I wish it cloth'd with Hymens royalties:
A husband, like an Ammell, would inrich
Your golden vertues.

Dutch.
How Men can praise themselues.
Mariage is good, but wheres the husband good?
A loving husband, Bertie, true in touch
May sweare, so they wil be, few proue such.

Bert.
Durst my opinion venture, but to speake him,
I could commend that merit to your heart,
As I presume, your fancie would imbrace.

Dutch.
Void all the Chamber, Bertie, but your selfe,
The husband now, come man, feare not to speake,
Exeunt Servants.
You haue absolution, ere you doe begin,
The husband can report his true deserts.

She sits.
Bert.
As much as observations greedy eye,
Could well retayne, keepes warme vpon my tongue,
Which to your noblest consideration was in honors wombe,
And from her suckt his Nutriment of life,
His spirit like an ensigne doth display
The worthinesse of his heroicke birth,
His more concealed vertues varnish that,
To make his Comet (merit,) wondred at,
Nature in moulding of his lyneaments,
Has sham'd the cunning workemanship of Arte,
That he is Madam, as your wish would make,
The richer in desert for your worthes sake.

Dutch.
You haue describ'd the substance of a man,
Such as might ravish the most chastest thoughts,
Virginity could sinne in wish of him,
For but on my deceased Brandons breath,
Did never waite such rich perfections,
In them I shall but re-espouse mine owne,
Marry one Husband twice, embrace the dead,
Hug in mine armes a Suffolke buried.

Bert.
If honorable Loue liue in a man,
It guides the vertues of the Palatine.

Dutch.
The Palatine? has he your wishes voyce.

Bert.
Could it assure him of your fancies choyce.

Dutch.
His stately honors are vnmatcht for mine.

Berty.
His greatnesse reflects beames into your shine.

Dutch.
That greatnesse claymes a duty from my heart.

Bert.
No more then his loue offers your desert.

Dutch.
Your humble eyes see's merit, his will not,
Our weaker worthes in Marriage are forgot.

Bert.
Nay rather Madam Wedlock doth inroule,
The speciall essence of your rare deserts,
Remembring your perfections.

Dutch.
I, they cou'd liue in your humility,
And my affections best afford them thee,
aside
Whilst thy sweete tongue solicites for thy friend,
Into thy bosome all my thoughts I send.
Enter Cranwell.
Cranwell what newes.

Cran.
The County Pallatine, now king of Poland.

Dutch.
King of Poland?

Bert.
Madam survey your thoughts,
Master your feares, and crowne your happinesse,

Dutch.
King of Poland?

Bert.
Your Queene my hopes would see.

Dutch.
Queene of my rich desires in marrying thee,
What of this king of Poland?

Cran.
He staies your graces leisure,
Accompanied with the Earle of Arundell.

Enter the Palatine being King of Poland, and Arundell.
Dutch.
Intreat their presence,
Welcome royall Prince,
My noble Lord.

Palat.
Madam, my latest service comes to bring
An old affection from a new made king.

Dutch.
My Pristine gratulations thus accept
The humble proffer of your soueraigne heart:
But let me tell you, my thrice gratious Lord,
You deale not Kingly, by advantag'd meanes
To set vpon my infancy of Loue,
To ambush lay it by intelligence:
You know my meaning, theres a privie theefe
I know you set to pillage my affections,
He durst not else haue broke my secrets vp.
His travell has not loytered in your sute,
Nor will I be vngratefull to his paines.
Enter Fox.
The Duke Northumberland, with the Earle of Erbaigh,
Desire to haue accesse vnto your grace.

Dutch.
More sutors? well, they are all welcome; vsher them in.

Enter Northumberland, and Erbaigh.
North.
Health and faire fortune
Waite on Suffolks Dutches.

Dutch.
Your wishes returne their vertues on your selfe.

North.
The king salutes you in my vassall breath,
And bad me tell you, he received your gift
With thankefull welcome, and bestowed the same
(Peec'd out with honor, from his noble bounty)
Vpon your cosen Sir Roger Willowby,
Creating him Lord Willowby of Parram,
To build remembrance of your gracious gift:
Further he praies you to intreat this Prince,
The Earle of Erbaigh with faire curtesie.

Erba.
Madam, the loue of your perfections
Hath call'd me hither, and of them I craue,
A welcome to my loyalty of heart.

Dutch.
I wish sir, my perfections of that wealth
To rate so high a merit as yours is:
But Princes, leaue this cheapning of my loue,
It is a bad thing deere.
Shall I beseech of you my Lord of Poland, and the rest,
Princes or whosoever tenders me
The humble service of his noble heart
As to digest my choyce with patience:
Amongst you I will choose, and at this time
And in his like interre my vviddowhood,
Amongst a throng of merits one but enters,
One wins the Goale still, though a thousand venters,
This man must but possesse me, let the voyce
Of my affections, please all with her choyce.

Arun.
Pleas'd or displeas'd, you vvomen choose your liking,
And reason you should haue it, or als one
Youle take a fall to haue it; fancies force
Makes honest plainnesse often speed the worse,
Choose Madam choose, and please thine owne content.

Berty.
The king of Poland Madam.

Dutch.
How this fellow
Wakes my remembrance for the king of Poland,
As though my fancy hung vpon his tongue,
I never shot a blunted arrow foorth,
Nor shall my choyce recoyle vpon his worth,
Whom Ile call mine; come worst of fate,
Berty I choose thy selfe my marriage mate,
Vpon this low foundation I erect
The Pallace of mine honors, on this knee
I place the head of mine authority;
Let hand from hand exchange their offices,
Whats mine is thine, thine mine, seal'd with this kisse.

Arun.
How madcap Dutches; what and ioyne lips to?
What ere we thought, I see it is a match.

Dutch.
You see blind fancies follie in my choyce,
His worth prevailes, nor will I change my voyce.

Berty.
By the deere loyalty my thoughts doe owe
To this vnmeasur'd grace you heape on me,
And by the vertue of a Christian faith,
The rellish of this blessing is so strong,
That when I leaue to loue, I liue too long.

Dutch.
Princes, let your displeasure chide his merit,
Which stole my loue your honors would inherit.

Palat.
My fury thus bursts forth, to wish increase
Of your spouse vertues in your liues sweete peace.

Erba.
My hatred dies not so, but I would see
Your merits liue in your posteritie.

Dutch.
Whereat frowne you sir?

Fox.
I hope it is no breach of duty, to conceale
Our close affections, they are priviledg'd,
And I will keepe them so, you haue my seruice;
If it may pleasure so; if not, I care not:
Ile mourne mine owne sinnes,
Take your Cloke and spare not.

Dutch.
If you be tired with the wearing it,
Goodspeed you, Ile not breake you backe with care.

Fox.
You haue my heart, whil'st I an honest asse,
(For so I count all men of patience,)
Haue laden it with whole loades of businesses,
With iaunting on your errands, drudgt at home,
With so strong diligence, that sleepe could scarce
Approch my eye lids for a sennights space:
The honor of your Celler liues in me,
You scarce command a throat can gulpe a health,
You thinke I flatter, take good fellowes words,
And him whose merit claymes preheminence,
By their opinion, deale your recompence.

Bert.
If you meane me, I will not canvase
With you for the voyce of quaint opinion;
Youle waye downe the scales,
Her honorable loue, the gift of fate,
Not due of merrit, doth advance my state.

Fox.
Why sir, might she not bestow her loue on me?

Bert.
She might.

Fox.
She might, more foole she did not, but al's one
All friends now, heeres my hand, my spleenes downe.

Bert,
In this imbrace I send a generall loue,
To all my fellow servitors:
I know some lowres vpon my happinesse,
How vndeserued, let my offices
Of loue to you, and duty to her grace,
In their impartiall verdit render vp.

Cran.
O, take my answere as the generall voyce,
For from my mouth breathes their opinions:
She lessens not her honours in your choyce,
But makes you Lord of her affections,
And them we serue not, but her royalties,
Which, as they are not lessened, why should we
Shrinke from their seruice; whom her loue doth honor,
May challenge from vs speciall reverence,
And so shall you, as homage for that loue,
Whose soverainty commands our services.

North.
Consent I see is liberall to this match,
And offers franckly my applauding heart,
Wishing of heauen to smile vpon your loues,
That from them may grow vp such gallant spirits
As my renowne this land with honor'd merits.

Exeunt.
Enter Bonner, and Gardner.
Bonn.
Good morrow to my Lord of Winchester;
How doe you like our ayre i'th Marshalseas,
From that ith Tower? vvelcome toot my Lord.

Gard.
Oh I thanke your loue,
But had we once our liberties,
We would set night vpon these morning skies.

Bon.
Oh that that houre were come, the king once dead.

Gard.
Whats that my Lord of London?

Bon.
I, pray man, pray, that heaven would take
Our good king Edward to yon happy land,
Hee's sicke, hee's sicke, heaven take the Infant child:
For this crack'd world his vertues are too milde:
Is not this charitable, what sayst thou man?

Gard.
But is the king sicke?

Bon.
And princes Mary vvell,
Oh how I long to heare his passing bell,
Soft who comes heere.

Enter Clunie.
Clu.
Health to my honour'd Lords.

Gard.
That were, thou meanest.

Clu.
That are, I bring your Lordships from our anointed Queene.

Bon.
Queene? is Edward dead?

Clu.
King Edward, of that name the sixt, is dead, and

Bon.
Who, who I beseech thee, guides the state?

Clu.
She that repeales you to your former seats,
Royall Queene Mary.

Gard.
See.

Bon.
Good hold my backe, this suddaine blast of comfort
Blowes me vp, where is my rivall Ridley and the rest,
They now shall fire for this.

Clu.
Sent downe to Oxford.

Gard.
Thence they shall not stirre,
Till fire consume them, if I be Winchester.

Clu.
By me her highnesse greetes you with that sea,
Adding vnto it, high Chancellor of England.

Bon.
An office good my Lord may coyne revenge
With Iustice stampe to pay our enemies.

Clu.
My Lord of London, thats your title now,
Restor'd vnto it with her graces favor.

Bon.
And if affection lenifie my duty,
Let me respectlesse die without her favor.

Exit Clunie.
Enter Lord Paget.
Paget.
Where be the Lords of Winchester & London?

Bon.
The good Lord Paget, welcome, pray, what newes sir?

Paget.
Her highnesse giues vs ioynt commission
By vertue of this Patent to peruse,
And clense the state of impious sectaries,
Wherewith it was infected in the dayes
Of her deceased brother Edwards raigne,

Bon.
Without affection of affinity.

Paget.
Of any, not her sister is except.

Bon.
Then let our Suffolkes Dowager expect
Answere for her scorn'd taunts, she threw on me of late
That hot spirit, fire and flax, Madam fagot stick,
If she recant not I will fagot her,
If all the wood in Middlesex can door,
Or Londons Bishopricke haue meanes to pay fort
Ile not niggard her bones and I doe, arayne my charity.

Paget.
I haue already sent Processe for her husband,
Forth by Cluine.

Enter Bertie and Clunie.
Bon.
My man, a trustie fellow
Worthy imployment in the Lollards tower,
But heere comes Bartie, welcome honest Clunie
It was well done, an honest knaue, Ile gratifie thy loue
As I will quittance such malignant hates.

Ber.
As whose, ant please your Lordship.

Bon.
A vengeance flatter you,
Your curteous eare, weares daggers in your heart.

Ber.
My eare, my Lord, is servant to my heart.

Bon.
They serue indeed to guide the envious heart.

Gard.
Sure I thinke Bertie be an honest man,
Religious was his education,
With our deceased Chancelor whom he served,
If since his Lady haue not wean'd him from it.

Ber.
Your honor still shall find me the same man.

Bon.
In substance, but how in Religion?

Ber.
As then a member of the selfe same Church.

Bon.
My good Lady your Wise sir, shees not so.

Ber.
I doe beseech your Lordships to suspend
And smother your opinions till a triall
Blow vp the embers to an open flame,
Then censure as you find, and giue's your doome.

Gard.
If we but finde her answers halfe so calme.

Bon.
Yes as thunder, she calme? as a baited Beare,
I will oppose my disputation,
Against a Colledge of best discipline,
Rather then with her braines, she sticks her iusts
Like poysoned arrowes, in our tender spleenes:
Thinking the sanctuary of her high birth
To priviledge her fond presumption,

Ber.
My credit sir be pawnd.

Bon.
Yur creditè tut tut, she hangs vpon the mercy of the Queene,
But it will cast off her opinion.

Bert.
Should she be cold, my Lords, or set a frowne
Vpon the alteration of her faith,
Your Lordships know the somes of money due,
From Charles the Emperour to her in the right,
Of her departed husband, Suffolkes Duke,
Which if your honorable licence would
Assigne me a free passage to those parts
To gather vp your vnexpected loue,
Would heate her good opinion with the zeale.
Where now the strangenes makes her somewhat stagger.

Bon.
Let him goe my Lords, you shal go speed him hence
The way is broader vnto our reuenge,
Which I haue sworne to take vpon the Dame,
Whose scornefull taunts did so depraue my fame.
What saies my good Chancelor to this sute.

Gard.
You haue free passage Bertie, when you please.

Ber.
To scape your envies, if we crosse the seas.
Exit Bert.

Bon.
Follow him Clunie and when thou thinkest,
The solemne farewell of divorced lips,
Hath part this husband from his honor'd wife,
With some especiall servants of the Queene
Enter the Dutches house in Barbican,
Take a true inventory of all her goods,
Discharge her household, saue a man or two.
One Woman, and the Nurse that suckles her Child,
And say you haue commandement from the Queene
To stay there till her highnesse further pleasure,
That she shall walke the hie-way to the Tower,
Be gon, performe thine Office carefully,
And I will pay thy paines as liberally.

Clu.
I goe my Lord, but doe you heare the newes?
How Doctor Sands is scapt from the kings bench, and fled.

Gard.
Send foorth our warrants into every Coast.

Bon.
Towards Kent, towards Kent, post Cluine, run villaine
How starest thou? packe.
Liue in my bosome if thou bring him backe,
This Sands is Chaplaine to you scornefull Dutches,
And he has tayne this lesson from her braynes,
That house of slie deuises, shees all wit,
Nor shall I sleepe vntill I ruine it.

Exeunt omnes.
Finis Actus Primi.