University of Virginia Library

Ent. Sibert Earle of Coventry. Emma. The Earle of Wiltshire meeting them.
Sibe.
Good day and wellcom too my Lord of Wiltshire.

Wilt.
Most Noble Sibert, Earle of Coventry,
Our good King longes to see you.

Sib.
Is he alighted?

Wilt.
Yes Sir, & at your Castle-gate he stands,
Cloyd with Petitioners, from whose humble hands
He fils his own with papers of complaints,
Still promising redress and comfort to them.

Sib.
Hee's a right gratious Prince: the fire of Hell
Consume the Slaves and their petitions,
For Sibert is not free from their complaints:
I fear our ruines.

Emma.
Why should Sibert fear?
The King, nor all the Land can wrong thee here.

Sib.
A thousand hearts must bleed first: harke he comes.

Enter King, Bishop, Prince Edmund, Earle of VViltshire, Attendants.
King.
Oh me, good Heavens, what strange petitions
Have these poor people here deliver'd us?
Command them all to morrow here attend us,
Where we will answer their petitions.
Renowned Sibert, Earl of Coventry,
To you and your vertuous Lady here,
For som few dayes we must be troublesome.

Sib.
Great King, my State, my Castle, self & all
Here in obedience at your feet shall fall.

King.
We thank you both.
Come Brother Edmund take your place by us.
Good Bishop Lutius, rest your Reverend age:
And you good Earle of Wiltshire counsell us
To work the Commons safety of the Land,
And weigh all doubts with an impartial hand;
Only for this our resolution makes
A progress through the Land, with our own eyes
To looke into the States inormityes.

Sib.
'Twill be a deed worthy your eare and care.

King.
So had it need, good Sibert, for we here intend
To see the poor man's wrongs payd with redress;
And let not great theeves swallow up the less.

Wilt.
It is not well my Leige, for since you came
From your Court at London still you see
Corruption like a loathsome leprosy
Hath made the faire face of ag'd ancestry
Deform'd and hatefull. Temples, erected only
To holy uses, are now for thrift turnd into barnes and stables.

Edm.
'Twere fit for to reform them.
Royall Brother, such ulcers found
Must needs be cut, least they corrupt what's sound.

King.
Such & farre worse the sad complaints here speak:
But by my Crown we'le have them all remov'd.
Brother, back you to London to your Earldom,
And in our name, summon all the Citizens
Unto a generall Councill, and there make
A stric't inquiry both of all offences, and
The Offenders see that you punish.

Bish.
Happy is England in so blest a King,
Whose only pleasure is his Subjects safety,

Edm.
Our self will play the thrifty husbandman,
And plucke the ranke weedes from the fruitfull earth,
That Justice may manure our tillage so,
That Peace may spring and Equity still grow.

King.
And herein shall you doe your self much right;
For know, my Brother, all my studies be
To banish vice, and call back exilde virtue,
And but to leave it quietly to Thee,
That art true heyre to all our Soveraignty.

Edm.
Which care if it fall on this tender unapt prop,
I shall with patience bear the heavy load,
And with my care break my now quiet sleep,
And let my eyes and eares still open be
To heare and see with pure integrity.

King.
Brother be gone;
You are the Earle of London; let us see
The City by your care so ordered be,
That no oppression wrong her: pray be carefull.

Edm.
Brother I shall, and so I take my leave
For to redress in what I can the wrongs
Of the poor wretches that with bended knees
Throw down their wrongs & prayers all at once.
Oh, may their eare be deaf that stops their eares
Against the poor, that plead with supplyant teares.

Exit.
King.
Be it your charge, good Sibert, to proclaim
In all the government you hould of us;
As Gloster, Worster, Warwicke, Coventry,
That all oppressed people may repair
Here to your Castle, where wee'l doe them Justice.

Sib.
I shall my Leige. the Divel shall damme um first,

King.
Keep carefully those papers, they contain
Severall complaints, for whose redress our self
Will this day sitt in Counsel to determine.
Believe me Lords, that Prince whose faire example
Drawes other to be good, may justly claim.
His peoples love and live in books of Fame.

Exit.
Sib.
So then I see in this the threatning storm is come,
And points at me, which we must cast to shunne.
So all those ills he means to punish now:
My Conscience tells me I have in some sort acted:
Tush, what of that, who dares accuse me for't.
Say, on my back I wear the poor mans sweat;
My power and greatness might have borne that out,
But that this vertuous King in this bad age
Will needs be good, and here in my own house
Grant some access unto the multitude,
That all with base exclaimes as loud as thunder,
Accuse my actions, and in them my life.

Ent. Emma.
Em.
Come Sir, I have overheard your passion;
Take my counsell, let not the name of King
Dishearten Thee, or strike amasing terror to thy heart!
Were it ten Kings that should oreturn my State,
I'de work my safety out of all their ruines.

Sib.
Oh, He or I must down.

Em.
Then let him die.
There is no other way to set you free.

Sib.
Thou hast awak't me, and I must confess
Thy cousell though through danger points at safety,
And I will tak't in time: the King shall die.
To save my life is soundest Policy.

Exit.
Ent. Anne, Lobster, Joane.
Jo.
You lay all on me, Lobster.

Lob.
And I should lay all my wayt on thee, Ioane, thou must
Not refuse it, for thou knowst, women are born to beare.

Jo.
I, but not such burthens.

Lob.
Nay, and you beare not me, youl ne're beare child
I warrand you Ioane.

An.
So Sir, what discant can you make.

Lob.
I, young Mi s, but it is upon the plain old Song
That every one desires to sing a part in.

Jo.
You have it without book, Mr Lobster

Lob.
Oh, by the book in any case, it must be prickt to them.

An.
Very well Sir, whatsoever maids beare, they must be sure
To bear your knavery, for thou art ever loaden with that.

Lob.
Or else I were worse then clean linnen, Mr i s,
For maydes use to beare that.

Ent. Old Thorny and Woodford.
Th.
Come Cosin Woodford,
Are you not weary with my long discourse.

Wo.
By my good hopes I swear, unless your change
Will interrupte me with some other matter,
I shall find naught to talke on, but my daughter.

Th.
I tell you Sir, her duty, modesty and huswifry
Are such large theams and so delightfull to me
As I can speak no other.

Wo.
Sir you doe that which all tongues else proclaim,
Your daughter is the mirror of this City:
And nothing that is good can glut my eares: beside
Your talke hath made the way seem short,
For see we are upon them: see your man Sir.

Th.
Hee's kissing of my maid, by the masse, how now Lobster?
What are you doing Sirra?

Lob.
The clothes are drie Sir, and Ioane and I am a foulding.

Th.
Thou art foulding her in thy armes, me thinks; away knave.
'Tis well done girle: and harke you, Mr Woodford,
I have already vow'd a single life,
Chiefly to give her all unto her portion.
Oh, it would joy my heart to see her well-bestow'd,
That she might keep my name alive unto posterity:
She shall have rich possessions to indow her
To a good husband.

Ent. Edmund and Gatfoord.
Wo.
Her face without possessions will deserve.

Th.
St. Cozen, what honourable Persons have we here?
Fore heaven, it is my Soveraign's brother, Noble Edmund,
The Earle of London, our gratious Lord,
He must not pass without my duty: health to your Grace.

Edm.
Our thanks good Thorney Iustice is now impeacht,
And is araignd by fell oppressors,
And craves you as a prop for to uphold here.

Th.
A weak decaing prop, my noble Lord.

Edm.
In this small scedule is a mass of wrongs
Which crie for a redress; be it your care to summon
All that are opprest, for to repaire to the Earle of Coventry;
There to give up their grievances.

Th.
It shall be speedily performed my Lord.

Edm.
A heavenly prospect! what fair Creature's that?

Wo.
His daughter.

Th.
My only Child, my Lord; even all the fruit
That heaven, that time, and death hath left unpluct
From this old sapple-tree.

Edm.
It is a fair one Sir: what sudden fire is this,
That shoots through all my vaines? 'tis scorching heat,
'Tis of aspiring flame, and through my eyes
Shootes a hot lustfull fire, that must be quencht
In yonder Sea of pleasure; no trick yet—I hav't.
Sir you have a fair ring here, trust me,
I never saw a richer in my eye, troth
'Tis a fair one, or else my fancy wrongs me;

Th.
You praise it to the best, my Lord, and yet I love it;
This guift did part my loving wife and me.
Peace with her Spirit, and yet my honored Lord,
I am no scrupulous Idolater, to keep such notes
To my perpetual vows: it shall be yours.

Edm.
This cuttesie for ever bindes me to you:
I will in some measure gratify your kindness,
Pray in exchange accept this ring of mine.

Th.
Be your own Chapman Sr: please you bestow it,
I'l weare it for your sake.

Edm.
With all my heart:
Knews't thou the sequell of this rings intreaty,
Thou wouldst have bin more nice in parting with't.
But I forget me, I must to the King.

Th.
We shall attend your grace.

Edm.
Lead on, i'le follow you.
Exit.
Gaufreid, 'tis thou must make me fortunate:
Thou seest yon Ceature: go to her by this ring;
I blush to speak the rest: harke in thy ear.
You know the purpose Sir.

Gauf.
Perfectly my Lord, and I'le practize it.

Edm.
Oh! that we should not feare to doe those things
We shame to speak of, but the fire is kindled,
Which once supprest, flames with the greater force.
Silence containes more passion then can be
Exprest in any rapsody of words.
Deep floods run still: when those that murmur
Are of a shallow slight profoundity.
I know that my desire is ill; yet cannot I
Desist from my foul purpose; for my bounded course
Of humane reason overflowes their banks,
And runs disorderedly through all my vaines:
Frail flesh is weak, and reason stept aside,
Our spring of goodness needs must puddled glide.

Exit.
Gauf.
Faire greetings beauteous Virgin;
By his commandes your father thus salutes you.

An.
It was my mothers ring, I know it Sir;
And his commends is a command to me:
What his pleasure pray you.

Gauf.
That you accompany me unto him self,
To whom I am charg'd to conduct you presently.

An.
My duty is oblig'd to his command;
Nay I'le not question, but attend his pleasure.
Go Sirs, get home your clothes, & let your cares
Be diligent in house till my return.

Jo.
Will you dispatch?

Lob.
Yes Joane, and you'le take up your clothes once, the baskets are ready.

Jo.
You shall carry it then.

Lob.
I warrant the wench, I have a carriage
That will carry home, ifaith, if it be discharg'd once.

Jo.
I have heard so.

Lob.
Never fear that faith wench:
You had not best make too much haste Mr i s,
Doe you here, you Courtier, shee's the flower of the City,
And therefore use her well, I pray: and 'twere not
For this Porters office, I would trust none of you all
Exit.
With her. Go forward Joane: here's a fine world,
When the cart must go afore the horse:
A man to come poking thus behind a woman.
My Mr i s is gone before Ioane, you shall go behinde;
I'le put you in before another time.

Exit.
Ent. Emma and Sibert.
Em.
The night grows old; we must dispatch and kill him.

Sib.
True Emma, for ere to morrow's breath
Our lives doe hang in fearfull hazard.

Em.
Think then what follows.

Sib.
Nothing but this, that thou observe my vow,
Which this night here I make in sight of heaven,
And call the powers both good & bad to heare it;
By Sibert's soul I'le never see the Sun,
Till the King die, and this black deed be done;
Let hell record my vow, the King shall die;
This night concludes his horrid tragedy.

Em.
Enough, I'le shew thee then these instrumental hands
That shall perform it: see Sibert, here they are,
Ent. Two Murderers.
With resolution more strongly armed then with their hands.

1 Murd.
That's worth a thousand weapons.

Sib.
I like their looks, they have no signe of pity.

2 Murd.
Pity? a pox of pity; pitty's for babies.
Say but the word, and I'le wipe out pity, sheath this weapon in your side.

Sib.
The deed once done I'le load you both with gold.
But where will you hide the body when hee's dead?

Em.
Know this my Lord; here by the uncouth cavern of a wall,
A solitary brook doth glide along,
Which we have turn'd from forth his proper course,
And in the mid'st o'th channel digg'd a pit,
Where when the murdred King is once intomb'd,
The nimble current shall be brought again,
And overrun the royall Sepulchre:
This being done, what bloud-hound, or what art
Can finde the body some fifty fathom layd
Beneath the river?

1 Murd.
This is brave my Lord.

Sib.
Beyond comparison. I admire thee Emma.
Goe, conduct them to the chamber secretly,
And when the King's asleep.

2 Murd.
He never wakes.

Sib.
Follow my Lady then.

Both Murd.
We'l bear her company.

Exeunt.
Sib.
So, so; ha, ha, he! sleep Lord secure,
Untill the horrid shreekes of a Kings murder wake thee.
Night yet thou art smooth, and lookst upon us with a
Smiling eye: keep still thy golden cheek;
Be not thou sick, for under casualities;
The Eclips is past, that was the Herald to this fatall hour,
Some twelf months since: or if thou wilt frown on us
We can not be out dared; who's there;
Ent. Emma.
My Emma, speak is all prepared.

Em.
All to the life, my love.
The murderers plac't; the King's a bed.
His first sleep is his last.

Sib.
Excellent sentence.
Hast thou the Postern key to convey them forth;
To bear the body to the place appointed?

Em.
Think you that any thing I could forget
That houlds dependance on so deep an action?

Sib.
Good: obscure your self untill the watch be past,
Whose company I'le keep to night; & hear you,
See you remember still to urge the murderers
When all's dispatcht to flie the Land with speed,
Till wonder be worne out.

Em.
Till fear be under foot; I'le forget nothing.
Exit.
The Gard's upon the round, I hear them coming.

Ent. Wiltshire and Garde.
Gard.
Stand; who's there?

Sib.
A friend, and your kind fellow, Gentlemen;
The Lord of this poor mansion, whose watchfull duty cannot sleep to night.

Gard.
My Lord of Coventry.

Sib.
Nay, lay by all Titles; I'le pertake your travels;
I'le tell you Sirs, it is my honor's test
That nothing doe disturbe the quiet sleep
Of my most Royall Leige: you shall accept me a companion.

Wilt.
Your Honor doe express your self most noble,
To give attendance in a personall duty,

Sib.
'Tis fit it should be so; 'tis my Castle,
And I can guide you through all the turnes
And angles of the Court, and as you finde my care,
So make report.

VVilt.
I shall attend your Lordship: another with the lights.

Exeunt.
Ent. Murderers with the body, Emma meeting them.
1 Murd.
Tread softly, you slave.

Em.
O happy sight! is't done?

2 Murd.
This does confirm it.

Em.
Did he not shrick?

1 Murd.
Sfoot, doe you think we gave him warning?

2 Mard.
No, we took him unnawares; he prayd devoutly
When he went to bed, as if he ment never to
Wake again; no sooner was he laid, but ere his eyes
Had closed their fleshy windows of their light,
But we stept in, and with the pillow stopt his mouth,
Lest with his clamorous cries he should have raysed the house;
Or by his prayers wan us to pitty;
Him then with these poniards
Yet reeking with his blood we pierc't his heart,
Cut off his tedious prayer.

Em.
Here, take this key, and by the Postern bear it to the pit
Digg'd in the river bottom, which being cover'd,
Wee'l turn the water to his former course;
Then make for safety, till the storm be past,
And we are all secure. Here's more gold for you.

2 Murd.
Look you be silent, and ne're fear our safety.

1 Murd.
It shall never be reveald for us.

Em.
Was ever murder done and hid so rarely?
The body buried in the rivers bottom.
What policy of men can ever finde it?
Ha! who is't that speaks so loud? crack the clouds?
This crying scene is not yet heard in heaven, I hope:
Is it for that this dreadfull voyce of thunder
Roules through the black inraged Elements,
And wraps this bright diapome in fire:
Or are these sounds the knelling obsequies
You use to keep at a King's Funerall? if so,
Ring treason out, but onely this I barr,
Wake not the dead, nor name the Murderer.

Exit.
Ent. Bishop and VViltshire, Sibert meeting them.
B. Lu.
Angels defend us! what a night is here?

Sib.
How now my Lords, you have had ill rest to night.

VVilt.
Who but the dead can sleep in such loud summons?
The blessed powers defend us: 'tis most fearfull.

B. Lu.
We come to see the King in this sick hour.

Sib.
And for that only cause, my Reverend Lords,
We draw our care so nigh his Highness chamber,
That had he call'd, we had attendant bin
To furnish his desire: but sure he wakes not.

VVilt.
And sure he sleepes not; let's to his chamber.

Sib.
With all my heart. See here comes my Lady.

Ent. Emma.
B. Lut.
Alas! good Lady, wak'd from your bed with thunder?

Em.
Oh! who can rest in such a dreadfull hearing?
When every crack of thunder that breaks forth
Seems as if heaven would fall upon our heads.

VVilt.
Noble Lady, accompany us to the King's bed-chamber.

Em.
With all my heart. I'me sorry he's thus disturbed.

VVilt.
Softly, least being not yet awak'd,
We fright his Highness with our suddain coming.
Ha! the bed empty: his Highness sure is up.
My Lord, my Leige, ha! no answer?

B. Lut.
Strengthen me heaven! lights here a little:
Is not this blood?

Sib.
Ha, blood! more lights.

VVilt.
I fear my royal blood, my Lord, my Leige, my King.

Sib.
Cry treason louder then this voice o'th thunder.
'Tis that that he hath all this while proclaimed,
And we dull animals could not perceive it.
Treason, murder, treason.

All.
Treason, murder, treason.

Sib.
Call for the Pages; raise up all the Court.
And hollow treason through out every room.
Oh! who is he hath staind my Loyalty,
And made my house the author of this treason?

Ent. Pages.
VVilt.
Be patient Sibert; here come the Pages,
Let's examine them.

Page.
Where's the King?

Sib.
Who's that that speaks so drowsily? base villains!
When blood of Kings besmears the Royall bed.

Puge.
Ha, the King's murdred! my Royal Master!
Thy loss is our decay.

Sib.
Die Loyall traitors, you have murdred him.
Kills them.
O're take him Slaves, or hide your guilt in hell.

VVilt.
Alas my Lord! you doe you know not what.

Sib.
Doe you uphold them; take heed, tempt not your spotles
Loyalties with any scrupulous thought; I would fain beleeve
That you were as my self, right loyall.

Amb. 1.
That shall be seen Sir, in our diligence.

Sib.
You talke but nothing doe, search for the body,
If we find that, we soon shall find the traitors.
Search every room; the body is not far;
The murderer will be found: black deeds of hell!
Who was the author.

Exit Sibert and Emma.
Em.
Those that will not tell.

VVilt.
This is a horrid night.

Bish.
To kill the Pages unexamined, these are not just proceedings.

VVilt.
I doe not blame his loyalty, but his rage,
That in their deaths, we should have questioned
Prevents the means of our discovery.

Bish.
This night is fatall, for 'tis hatch't in blood.

VVilt.
Heaven cease this thunder, 'tis a time of sorrow:
But come my Lord, think of the Kingdoms safety,
First let us resolve with swiftest speed
To greet the Earl of London,
Royal Prince Edmund, with this heavy news.

Bish.
As 'tis most fit. See here's Sibert.

Ent. Sibert.
Sib.
No marvail tho the heavens speak in thunder
To see anointed blood spilt on the earth!
And in my house! oh heavens!

VVilt.
Nay good my Lord forbear.

Sib.
Did not I tell you that those drousie Pages
Whom this hand slew (& I thank heaven for it)
Were the four traitors, perhaps hired to doe it.

Lut.
That we would have found my Lord.

Sib.
I would my heat of rage had given you leave;
I doe repent it now, but 'tis most certain;
For that the Postern gate, whose keys they had in keeping,
Was now found open; tax me to any pains
To find this treason; set me down half the world
For my own travail, I'le bring the Traitor forth
Or ne're return.

Lut.
Use your care, whilest we send post away.
This night's the worst that ever covered day.

Exit VVilt. and Bishop Lut.
Sib.
Ha, ha, ha, ha; the best to me: So, so.
Speak louder thunder, make a more horrid night:
Conscience is not at home thou canst not fright:
Crie Traitor stil, though I thy meaning know.
Here's none that understands thou call'st me so.

Exit.
Ent. Edmund and Anne.
Edm.
Nay, doe not grieve.

An.
Can you allow me less then teares, my Lord?
Oh, what a noble Traitor have you prov'd
In that deceiving ring, that brought me to you?

Edm.
When I beheld this glorious frame of Nature;
This ever prais'd, yet never prais'd enough.
Proportion, O what a suddain passion I was in?
The Queen of love drew forth a fiery shaft
And shot my brest, which rancle did so sore
The more I let it rest it rag'd the more,
Till from the store-house of my hatching brain
This balsome of remedie I distill'd,
And cured the wound: this rich Embassador
Discover'd to me more then the Indies wealth.

An.
Oh! what a jewell then beyond esteem
Have I then lost, which gold can ne're redeem?

Edm.
That is not lost, that is repayd with love,
Such is our fair exchange: had some rude slave
Polluted thy white soul with ugly lust,
Thou then hadst cause to grieve; but my desire
Was free from the least baseness: what I have borrowed
Of thy maidenstore, I will repay, and with a husbands love
Give satisfaction: nay weep not, good sweetheart.

An.
A pretty Epitaph for wantons to congratulate withall.
You did salute me with a sweeter name
Then I imagine this sweet-heart to be:
But you have robd me of it.

Edm.
Nay lovely maid.

An.
Were it heavens will, would I had kept that name.

Edm.
Would you have then ingrost perfection,
And like a usurer have hoarded up
The Princely jewell of your maidenhead?
And let pale death have bin your husband?
You were created that from you should spring
The worlds increase; then would you most unkind
Alter what you were made for? 'tis
A husband you must have: and if't be so,
Why not as good me, as another man?

An.
If you want no vail to shadow, Sir,
How many have you caught within this snare?
Am I the first?

Edm.
Yes, by this blessed aire;
Nor art thou caught in any lustfull net,
But in a sacred matrimoniall band,
Which we have registred in heavens white book,
Where all the sacred Hymeneall oaths
Are writ in golden Characters,
And there are mine recorded; then 'tis no snare,
Nor incest can it be, thou art my wife.

An.
Before I yielded up my virgins name
You sware no less. Oh heavens! doe not you think
The aire is troubled for our privat sin.
This thunder tells me, we have angred heaven.

Edm.
Sweet-heart,
It is the years due order, and the aire
Through heat and sulphur sends the thunder cracks:
Thou wilt be mist at home; I prithee haste unto thy father's house.

An.
Opprest with shame.

Edm.
In troth I shall be angry with thee sweet,
If thou continue in these fond delirements;
Can there be shame in matrimoniall rites?
Thou art my wife, and here I sealt with these

Kisses her.
An.
Had you sealed no otherwise with me,
I could have born the impression willingly,
And call'd again for more security.

Edm
Thou shalt ere long imbrace me lawfully;
The Priest shall joyn our hands with our true hearts:
My business calls me; hence I must be gone,
But leave my heart for ever, sweet, with thee.

An.
As good as nought; how ere both sin and shame
I bear for thy sweet sake, my lost good name,
My fathers anger, all is for thy sake.
If thou proof false, and that for grief I die,
'Tis for thy sake, and shall doe't willingly.

Exit.
Edm.
Farwell thou soul of vertue.
Ent. Thorney and VVoodford.
Now Master Thorney.

Thor.
Health to you Sir: I have according to your good appointment
Caused all the Commons that are opprest with wrong,
For to repair to the Earle of Coventry's Castle,
Whereat your Princely Brother keeps his Court
To shew their grievances, and gainst whom they complain

Edm.
You have bin carefull, Master Thorney,
And in it shews the duty of a Subject,
For 'tis a perilous time.

Thor.
I, I, my Lord, a mostrous stormy time,
For since my birth I never heard the like:
This many a day we have not seen the Sun,
But still continuall thunder frights the earth;
What this portends, he that's the cause,
Best knows.

Ent. A Post.
Edm.
True Mr Thorney, and 'tis not fit for us to question his intents.
Thy news! why doest thou look so pale.

Post.
Oh my Liege, I come to sing to you a schritch ou'ls note,
That will afright your hearing: your Brother Sir.

Edm.
What of him?

Post.
He is

Edm.
Dead?

Post.
How apt you are
To pluck the mishap't embrion of mischance,
Ere it be fully moulded from the womb:
He's dead my Leige, and murdered.

Edm.
Murthered, how?

Post.
In his bed, my Liege: by whom is yet unknown.

Edm.
Then this the cause is that the heavens so scould
And rend the clouds with fearfull thunder cracks
I'le find the murtherer, though I search the center,
And from the earth pluck the abhorrid caitiffes.
Let all the passages be strongly garded:
For till the mutherous villains be brought to light,
We still shall live in this perpetuall night.

Exit.
Ent Sibert and Emma.
Sib.
Oh conscience! thou art a mortall wound to murtherers
No balme can give thee ease: oh! this dred thunder
Will never cease his loud amasing terrour
Till this most fearfull murther be reveald.

Em.
Art thou a man, and keepst such cowardly apprehension
A sound of thunder? why? me thinks this houre
I see ten thousand like thy self that stand
Applying all unto their proper sins;
The bribed Lawyer having ta'ne his fee
With ambodexter, feeling cunningly,
Hearing this voice, sayes, from his conscience sting,
The heavens are angry at his dubble dealing;
The griping Usurer that hath ta'ne the forfeit
Of some great Estate, this voice of conscience
Now a little wakens him; the Theef,
The Tyrant, and the Adulterer, all tremble
Now: and what is it but Palsy-conscience
That appropriates unto it self
Things that we never knew.

Sib.
But this is all my own.
Did not the instant deed call up the thunder?
Did not I vow to heaven, I ne're would see
Nor Sun, nor Moon, untill the King were dead?
To which I fear the heavens have added further,
That those clear lights the world shall never see
Till this black deed of hell revealed be.

Em.
This is your conscience still: awake for shame
From this same drousie Lethargie of minde.
Seek for thy safety Sibert, and assure it.
The Lords are gone to London, follow them,
And dive into the owse of all their actions;
The generall voice cries, Edmund King of England.
And being inthron'd, the Royall Policy
Will mount him with a strict and nearer quest
To finde the author of his Brothers murder.

Sib.
That starts my heart: hence coward conscience,
If any conscience shall but wrinkled sit,
And bend a doubtfull censure upon Sibert,
I will again dip these my hands in blood
Of the most daring opposite; I see 'tis fear
That man accuses. resolves acquite all guilt,
All must to earth, where then can blood be spilt?

Em.
Why now thou speakest.

Sib.
I'le put it all in action; stay thou here:
Gather our friends and Tenents to a head:
Then with them fortifie our strongest Castles, 'tis fit
For him that injures others, to secure him self.

Exit.
Ent. Thorny, VVoodford and Anne.
VVood.
Good Sir, have patience.

Thorn.
Away, she's big, big with child;
Out of my doors, thou strumpet.

VVood.
Dear uncle.

Thor.
Cover my shame with some deformity, turn me to a beast,
That is not capable of what joys are past,
Or griefs to come: blast all my faculties;
Hide my white head in everlasting darkness;
Let me forget that ere I had a child,
And ne're remember that she turn'd a strumpet.
O heaven defend me! Let me curse the whore.

VVood.
Good Sir forbear, my charity is such
That I must hinder you.

Thor.
You doe me wrong to hinder my devotion.

An.
Oh! dear Sir, forbear to invocate; you will offend,
And make your vertue sin, to call for curses.
Have charity with your self, if not, with me:
Impose me to the Laws severity.
Hurt not your self with this impatience;
I'le stoop to all with mildest sufferance.

Tho.
So, so, 'tis done, and 'tis recorded now,
And I have done ill with a mentall vow:
Better then windy words; my soul's a witness
Never to let a benediction fall
Upon the strumpets head; never to know
Or own thee for my child; never to give
A penny of my substance to thy succour;
Never to look on thee: this I affirme,
Ever to follow thee with extremest hate;
Still to persue thee with extremest rigour;
The Law provided has for such offenders
Nay thou shalt stand example to all children,
How they invoke a Fathers aged wrath.

VVood.
Good Sir, qualifie this rage: tell us who the offender was.

Thor.
Who should offend with an adulterous whore,
But some loose varlet, or luxurious knave,
That would have company along to hell:
And she must needs goe with him: but I'le begin
Your everlasting torments, and fetch such whips
Shall make your sweet sin smart; no waight of fate
Can be so ponderous, as love turn'd to hate.

Exit.
VVood.
Cosen you see how your Father is inrag'd,
Therefore his anger for to qualifie
Is in my judgment, to him, to reveal
The man that made him loose your Virgins name.

An.
O my dear Cuz, it is a waigthy secret that's inclosed
Within my answer; nor can it be reveald
But to a bosom sworn to secresy.
And yet your love should not be question'd.

VVood.
Were all the engines of tormenting terrour
Put to my flesh, if I doe vow a secret,
None near shall force it from me.

An.
I beleeve it.
Know then, kind Sir, the authour of this folly,
Sin, or shame, or how you please to call it,
Was youthfull Edmund, now th'elected King.

VVood.
Prince Edmund!

An.
He may deny it now; but here's a witness:
Oh! doe but think with what unequall strength
This Citadell of honour was besieg'd,
And you will hardly blame my yielding weakness,
When oportunity, the bawd of time,
Had call'd me forth and brought me to his presence,
Think what amazing terrour Royalty could doe,
With a commanding love: what sugred breath,
Words able to infuse an appetite
In a coole votarist; yet mauger all
My vanquishment was but conditionall.
You doe not hear me Cuz.

VVood.
Yes, and so you yielded on conditions.

An.
True Sir, when flattring oaths, sweet vows,
Coind love, were out of breath, still I remaind
A maiden votaris: but then came forth this
Murthering piece of grief; we chang'd the
Jugall words of matrimony between our
Souls; and the large ceremony was but
Defer'd unto the King's consent, which by his
Brothers death is now his own.

VVood.
But lust once sated; they forget all oaths,
That helpt them to't; and though a Prince, he's
Subject to affections; I but think you
Hee'l not forget.

An.
I cannot tell.

VVood.
And violate his vow.

An.
Alas! I dare not claim it: but how ere
This token of his love I'me sure to bear.
And for his sake, thus have my vows decreed,
No man shall ever second this his deed.

Ent. Lobster and Ioane.
Lobst.
O Mr i s, Mr i s, I have run so fast and taken such Pains,
That my wind's gone backward and foreward;
And have stirred so much that I doe
(Saving of your presence) you may smell the rest.
Ioane has bin down; but, but
I took her up again: yonder comes your Father
With such a company of Beagles:

Ioa.
And such a company of whips:

Lobst.
And such a company of sumners:

Joa.
And such a company of knaves:

Lobst.
Slaves, that look as if they had eat
No meat this seven years, and they
Bring the ingines that must give your
Shoulders the bloody lash.

An.
Oh heavens forgive me! am I the first offender?

Thor.
Let all the Officers beset the door,
And look Mr Constable, here's your pray;
Go strike your tallent in.

Ent. Thorney, Constable and others.
Thor.
Here's banquets for you; I'le make her pass
Through all the purgato yes of pennance.
You are the Phisician that let wantons blood,
To cure the itch of lust: you may doe good, but yet beyond your help,
There will remain an everlasting scar, a spot, a stain,
That never will be out: oh! look on me,
You that distribute justice partially:
Scourge your own flesh and blood when it rebells.

VVood.
Good Sir be patient; I pray depart,
And consider what he hath done, is not in hate, rashness.

An.
Upon my knees, dear Sir.

Thor.
I will not hear thee strumpet.
Heaven, earth, and men give ear and hear my words.
Here take my vow his force: beyond this hour.
We never more will meet. I'le hate the place that keeps thee.
And as a lasting trophie of thy guilt:
I will dispose my self, that did beget thee:
Never shall razor prune thy careless looks,
I'le never hence forth feed but on the ground;
I'le never pare my nails, but let them grow
Into unseemly clawes, with which I'le dig
My Monumentall bed.

An.
Oh kill me Sir! and end my miseries.

VVood.
Good Sir, calme this passion.
All this distemperature for a grief so slight.

Thor.
Oh! shut me up in everlasting night:
Let me but see her under Justice grip't,
And then I'le turn away my eyes for ever,
For now I go to contemplation:
Thy soul I pitty yet, though not thy flesh.
That wealth should have indow'd thy nuptialls
Shall build a sanctuary for holy men,
To make thy peace in heaven; lewd world farewell.
I never will discover more of thee
Then from the humble prospect of my grave.
My charge can be but small, my care much less,
I have not left me now a child to bless.

Exit.
Lob.
If every wench should be so used that had eaten white puddings,
We should not have so many Children left upon stalls as we have:
Unnaturall Father, that would whip his own child for drinking a little white bastard:
Ye ill looking rascall,
Canst find in thy heart to whip a great
Bellyed woman? Mr i s, now I am in a good mind
Here's good hanging me; I beseech you Mr i s,
Let me be flead from the chin to the navell,
Rather then you shall be whipt.

Jo.
Or I beseech you, let me indure the pennance.

Lob.
I, good Mr i s, if you will not let me be whipt,
In any case, let Ioane be whipt.

VVood.
Pray will you be gone?

Lob.
Yes, I goe, but I cannot chuse but cry
To think that a woman for once doing.
Should be undone for ever. Come Ioane here's
A faire example for you: let's then to the buttery
And candole; for sorrow's drie, you know,
Wee'l weep whole pail fulls, and in briny teares
My self and Ioane will ducke ore head and eares.

VVood.
Mr Constable, I beseech you Sir, to shew to us what
Favour you can, you see her case, therefore I pray,
Leave unto me your Prisoner; i'le pass my word
For her apperance at her delivery.

Const.
Sir, I am but the Laws dependancy;
And for her Fathers sake, though against his will;
I'le leave her to your care, and take your bayl,
Till course of Law shall further summon her.

VVood.
I pray Sir, depart as privatly as you can,
To avoyd further punishment.

Const.
Well Sir, I'le follow your directions.
My charge is yours.

Exit.
VVood.
There now remains onely this,
That I intreat you to accept my house
For entertainement, till you be delivered:
There you shall want for nothing, but have
Kinde respect.

An.
Heaven make me able to requite your love.

VVood.
Come home with me, and bid all grief Adieu.

An.
The health of my sick soul relies on you:
There is another home, I dare not name.
I'le be disgrac't ere, I his worth defame.

Exeunt.
Ent Edmund, Earle of VViltshire, Sibert, Bishop.
Edm.
How like a tedious day is Majesty,
Which gives his light unto succession?
The day expir'd, night with his pale dark cheek
Wraps up his brightness, and gives day repose,
To give another a reflection.
So by death's hand my brothers dayes destroy'd,
My Sunshine day refulgently appeares:
Which, how he died, the heavenly eye of Love,
Whose searching Majesty lightens all thoughts,
And opens all her dark obscurity,
Best knows whose hands were bathed in the blood.

Wilt.
You see the cruell terrors of these times,
Oh! gratious Prince, and that which doth exceed
The strength of all amazement, since the death
Of our late murdered Lord and Soveraign:
The Sun and Moon was never seen to shine.

Edm.
The eye of heaven is banish't from the earth,
And gone to wander in eternall night;
And ransake some Cemerian seated cave,
To finde the Murderers, that with horror sitts
Starting at every apparition;
And never will illuminate the world,
Till it hath brought him to transparent view;
And to him speaks this thunder.

Sib.
No, 'tis to me: but I'le not answer,
Though the boults should flie and strike me to the center.

Edm.
How horridly it cracks!
A generall desolation sure is come,
And heavens glorious eye
I think is banish't hence eternally.

Sib.
Take courage Sir a Royall thought
Stoops not to Fortunes blindness: great thoughts are ever
Fixt to the publik good, and not kept down by passions.
Oh! the blood.

Wilt.
Let's invocate the powers above
For to reveal the horrid Murderers.

Sib.
Hot vengeance light on him that so perswades him.

Edm.
Swear as you hope for heaven, your carefull studies
Shall be to sist this execrable deed,
And bring to light this damned Murtherer.

Sib.
Zoundes I must kill him too, and prevent his purpose.

VVilt.
We vow the same with force and diligence.

Edm.
As for my self I will outwatch the night,
Wast these life-seeing tapers of mine eyes
Till they drop forth the sockets of my skull:
But I will finde the execrable Slave.
Why standst thou silent, Sibert?

Sib.
Alas! my Lord, I am hid in sorrow,
That in my house this mischief happened:
And yet dear Prince, I have already spent
The utmost minutes in this fatall business:
No place, no person, no suspected breast
That might unto the act be aidable,
But I have torne it open, and examin'd,
So that deceit it self could not deceive me,
But all in vain, the damn'd Murderer lies unrevealed,
And heaven or none must find him, hee's so subtill.

Edm.
I feare thy Loyalty; come let's to Coventry,
And there we will fift out murthers darkest ways
Sibert, let's have your Company along.
Were millions given this purpose to prevent,
All Europe shall not hinder our intent.
Be ready, Sibert.

Sib.
With all my heart, my Lord. Mischief confound it.

Edm.
Set forward Lords,
Thou that still guards the right,
Bring this dark obscure murther to the light.

Exeunt.
Manet Sibert.
So the King's for Coventry, and I as mark't
With some brand of suspicion, must be the man
To attend above the rest: Sfoot, what note
Or character of guilt lies on my brow
More then the rest: my speech was firm,
I was less frighted with this loud tongu'd thunder
Then was the King, or any of his Peeres.
And but my conscience nothing troubles me;
And that is no mans burthen but my own,
Which I'le conceal, though with the Kingdoms ruine:
Let Hell spit fire, I'le not accuse my self,
Although the Sun and Heaven be hid in clouds,
And with an everlasting darkness cover us.
Thunder loud.
Oh! I presume too much, that crack has mazed me.
Horrour of Hell! what shall I doe? think, Sibert and conceive;
What if the King should call my wife in question,
Or that the Murderers, we hir'd to doe't,
Should be surpris'd, and brought unto the King,
Examined, put to death: where's Sibert then?
Thrown in Hell fire, never to rise again.
Which to prevent, I'le presently make flight,
And leave with them my feare and jealousie.
I'le ship my self for Ireland, and there
Shrowd my self safe, and there close up my eares
From this loud peals of thunder, which are sent
And on my head with winged vengeance bent.

Exit.
Ent. Mr Woodford and Anne Thorny.
Wood.
Now you are a happy mother, the good Heavens
Has brought your burthen to a happy issue, you may
Now curse the cause; you shall have my instructions
To direct you.

An.
Now, Heaven forbid.

VVood.
By his delay you may see how he stands affected.

An.
'Tis a delay without proportion.

VVood.
Your Father threatens and persues your lives best shipwrack,
Vowing, if you should starve, not to give
A penny for to comfort you.

An.
Yet I will pray for him eternally:
And for my Sovereign which hath forsaken me;
But of his love I will expect no more,
Think wise, or dream then of that thing
Unknown, unsought, or never thought upon.

Wood.
Oh! be not to your self to cruel.

An.
Since in his loss, I have lost my self and honour;
I now resolve in this unblemisht habit to weare out
The remnant of my days in penetance
Amongst the holy Nunnes of Holy well,
Into whose Sister-hood I am admitted,
And there for ever will I plant my being.

VVood.
Oh! gentle Cuz.

An.
I am deaf to all persuasions,
My best of blood, I have no friend but you,
And in your virtue I impose my trust,
That with all secret care you chuse a time,
To give this ring to my dear Soveraign,
The once dear pledge of his forgotten love:
With it this letter, in whose sad contents
Is nothing but a vertuous milde intreaty,
That he would gratiously behold this child,
His hapless Son, and called by his name,
Edmund, that mongst the longer of my sighes
I may have comfort to keep down my griefs.

VVood.
And as my own, I mean to tender it.

An.
You vertue makes my care lie easy on me:
Good Cosen speak what temper holds my Father?

VVood.
Has given o're his house and all his wealth,
He means for to distribute to holy uses.

An.
And yet I live and breath that am the sinfull author
Of these sorrows: but flows this deluge for his own
Offences, Or the remembrance of my hatefull shame.

VVood.
From your disgrace.

An.
Then to this World Adieu, why doe you urge
To hold me longer here a Prisoner?
I have out lived myne honour, buried alive
My old and vertuous Father, for which I am below
All reach of humane pitty that I know.
They wish to Serpents more prosperity.
My soul's as black as darkness, and can take no light
Of other beauty, till my teares have washt it:
I doe beseech you Cuz, commend my duty
To my Father, and intreat his vertue,
To lay no more affliction on his age for my offences past
And last to thee, my first of cares,
Whose innocence is sported with my sin.
Oh! be thou made so blest, that in thy vertues
I and my faults may loose their memories.
Take my last kiss, and with it these my teares,
Which to thy Royall Father thou shalt beare.
Now take it Sr and with it all my comforts, all my prayers.
Love it dear Cuz, & though from grief it spring,
Yet 'tis the onely Son unto a King: farwell.
I feare we never more shall meet on earth,
Here my joys end, you have my sorrows birth.

Exit.
VVood.
Success attend you: would all that stept awry,
Would be but subject to thy penalty.
Come on thou brat of woe, and sad defame,
Although a Kings he cannot hide the shame.

Exit.
Ent. King, Earle of Wiltshire, Bishop Lutius, and Emma.
King.
Thus Royall Lords, we are in Justice plac't,
And by the assistance of the all-seeing heaven
To search forth murther. Are the suspected persons
Yet brought?

Wilt.
They are my Leige.

King.
Speak woman, and remember as thou speakest,
That thou art before heaven as well as we,
Who them with all thy cunning canst not blind;
What knowst thou of the murther?

Em.
I doe beseech, bring forth my accusers.

VVilt.
I am the first, yet free from spot of envy,
And thus I ground my feare, if your white hands
Have tane no tincture from the bloody wounds
Of our late murdred Prince, why is your Lord
Against his oath, alleageance, and command.
Fled thus preposterously in the self-same hour,
In which he should have done his Country-service.

Em.
The Law which did unite my Lord and me
In one firm body: never did impart
The freedome of his thoughts into my boosome
Neither doth that or any English custome
Impose on wives their husbands blemishes.
I pray, my Lord, accuse me for my self.

King.
'Tis from your self if you be foul in him.

Wilt.
Besides it is affirm'd by solemn oath
The self same night the King forsook the World,
You and your Lord did never come in bed;
So that in common sence, you either were
Or chief, or aiding to the murderer.

Em.
Our busy care to entertain the King,
Did make us leave our beds to vertuous ends.
Oh! my good Lord, you would disgrace my goodness,
But my poor innocence is so cleare from blemish,
No filths of any tongue can sully it.
And here before your Master, I wish,
If I be guilty, or in thought or action,
May I be made a warning to all women,
And branded with most black damnation,—oh!—oh—

Wilt.
Defend us heaven! Look to the Lady there.

Bish.
Are you hurt, Madam?

Em.
No, but amazed at this dreadful thunder.

Bish.
Oh! be advised in time, and tempt not heaven.
Scarce had deniall issued from your lips,
But thunder cryes aloud that you reueal
What else heaven will speak in miracles.

King.
Doe woman, tell the truth.

Em.
You mad me with your vaine suggestions:
Your actions are unjust and terrible.
I doe defie what ever can accuse me;
Though it be wrested in loud peales of thunder,
Yet with a breath more noble then your slander
I throw defiance at your envious boosoms.
What doe you think to work upon my weakness?
Tush, I am armed with better fortitude
My Lords, I aske a husband at your hands:
A Noble Prince, which you have murdered;
And now with these suggestions would overwhelme
My life and fortunes, making me confess
A crime, of which I am more innocent
Then you your selves, or babes new born this hour.

A blasing star appeares.
Bish.
Se, se, my Lord, a blasing star appears,
And hangs directly o're this fatall house.

Edm.
Angels protect us!

Em.
Ha, what art thou?
Thou dost amaze me with thy curled fires.
Why doth thy flaming train thus point at me, oh!—oh!—

Bish.
How fare you, Lady?

Em.
Oh hide thy branded fire, whose flaming beams
Are shot into my brain; it flames and burnes,
And all the waters that o'rewhelme the King,
Can never quench it, till his body come.—oh!—oh!

King.
Doth water then o'rewhelme his body?

VVilt.
Perhap 'tis cast into some River, Sir.

Em.
Spare me, oh! spare me, gentle heaven, be dumb.
Call not so loud, let me unload my boosom
Of this eternall waight of sin and murder;
Then let thy winged lightning split my breast,
That all the World may know, my Lord and I
Contriv'd the King's most bloody tragedy.

King.
It is confest.

Em.
Oh! Royall Sir, I am inforst to speak:
Frowning heavens, and that almighty fire
Hath thrust it from my mouth, and I confess,
My Lord and I did hire two desperate men,
And they by our command did kill the King.

King.
Where are those men?

Em.
The murder done they fled to find out safety,
But whither, by my soul's sicke estate, I know not.

King.
What did you with the body of the King?

Em.
Hard by the Castle stands an old grown oake,
Close by whose side a little River runnes,
Whose quiet streams we stopt, and turn'd his course
Up to his head, till in his sandy bottom
We dig'd a pit and therein laid the body;
Which done, we cover'd it with earth & stones
And turnd the water to his former passage,
That running over it, none might see
Or find the author of this tragedy.

King.
Unheard of stratagem! take pitty on thy soul!
Thou barbarous woman; call to the powers above
For to be mercifull.

Em.
False World, farwell; let me example be,
A warning to our sex from blood to flee.

Dies.
King.
Go home and see the body be brought before the Judge.

Wilt.
I shall my Lord performe it carefully

Enter some with Sibert and Murderers.
Wilt.
Come bring him before the King.

Sib.
Let me not see the King, nor be examin'd
That cursed, which did bewitch my sence,
And made me hire the slaves to murder him.

King.
Discourse to us the manner of their taking,

Sib.
I'le tell the tale my self, hear me, O noble Iudge:
When in disguise loaden with desperate thoughts,
I meant to pass to Ireland by the Seas,
The angry heavens call'd up the mounting waves
And bad them in their hollow murmurs say,
They would not beare a Kings base murtherer.
My passage thus denied by raging stormes,
Like a distracted out cast forth I went
Into strange paths, careless and negligent,
And there I met these damned Murtherers,
Mad as my self: and horrour with dispair,
They hollowed still for mudering the King.
We all are damn'd to eternall tortering:
Which when the people heard, they us surprised
And brought us thus a bloody sacrifice.

King.
The Gods are ever just: oh! Coventry,
Thou art the bloody Subject of our curses;
Thy bloody hand hath bath'd the anoynted King
In his own blood, for which we will be swift.
In vengeance: take these three, and by their heeles, hang
Them upon stakes; let ravens, mastives, worry them to death:
That when they scrick, their hideous fearfull cryes
May draw the Land to see their miseries:

Sib. and Murd.
The doom is Royall, just, and mercifull.

King.
For this vile woman, see her senceless body
Be on a pile of faggots burnt to earth,
And scatter'd before the blustring wind
That on their winged convayes they may flye
To the Worlds furthest verge or memory.
See it perform'd; they thus to death are sent,
The Heaven I hope will pease her punishment.

Bish.
Take comfort, Princely Sir, the worst is past,
The sacred powers are pleas'd with this your justice:
For with the Traitors deaths the stormes are ceast,
The air is clear, and all the thunders past,
And see, the Sun and Moon give blessed light,
And quite abolisht our diurnall night.

King.
Now the news.

Ent. with the body.
Wilt.
The body's found my Lord.

King.
Bring it in.

Wilt.
'Tis here my Leige.

King.
Here on this humble ground lies he
That once was King of this vast Monarchy
Alas! what are we Kings? what's Majesty?
But like a flattring glass that shews forth pride,
And with one stripe, of all destroying death,
Is past to nothing: lookes that face now
Like to a brow that did command a Kingdome.
Thus pale and bloodless; was this the head
That wore the golden wreath, thus groveld all with earth?
Take up the body, and let it have a second buriall,
And layd within the sepulchers of Kings:
Our self will take our way,
And make a progress to establish Laws,
That this our Land Iustice may rule so even,
Our life may be acceptable to heaven.

Exeunt.
Enter Chorus.
The body being intomb'd, King Edmund takes
A progress through the Realm to establish Laws;
Himself in Iudgment. Sits to hear mens cause?
Five years he spent: mean time what cares befell
Unto his Love, the Nun of Holy-well,
And her affection'd Father: now behold
What's done in shew, I shall in words unfould.

A dumb shew.
Enter Thorny with Cittizens, giving them large summes of money: shewing them the money: desires them to see his building goe forward: takes his leave with a deaths head in his hand: goes into the tombe.
Second dumbe shew.
Enter one way Edmund, Wiltshire. Bishop Lutius; at the other, Woodford and the Child: he kneeles, delivers to the King a Letter and a Ring: he reads the Letter and smiles; blesses the Child, and gives it to Wiltshire; the King and Bishop departes to see Anne.
Chorus.
Old Thorny thus o're grown with misery:
Who never more would see his vertuous Child,
But in a plot of ground, a mile from London,
Builds up a tombe where night and day he lives:
His goods are sold, and to the poor he gives
Large sommes of money, and takes a solemn oath,
Of those his friends and worthy Cittizens
Fast by his tombe to build a famous Abbey,
And with three hundred work men dayly plied
To have it finisht ere old Thorny died.
This done, the King returned back to London,
And faithfull Woodford watching a fit time,
Presents him with a Letter and a Ring,
His long forsaken love had sent to him,
Which read, the King with much astonishment
Remembers her, and doth with teares express
How much he blames his much forgetfulness,
Vowing to see her: presents to him his Son,
Being grown to years of some discretion:
Which the King gladly takes, and smiles on him.
What now shall follow with your gratious favour,
We humbly beg attention to the end,
And if we fail to please we'le strive to mend.

Exit.
Ent. Old Thorny in his tombe.
Oh brightsome day! thus low poor Thorny bows,
To strive with briny teares thy gladsome light,
Whose hopes have shut him up in darksome night,
Here in this tombe sequestred from the world
Will Thorny spend his life; and with my nayls
To dig my grave, and in this glass to see,
And view the end of all mortality.
Court-pomp, and Citty pride, look, look on this,
And teach your souls the way to happiness:
Poor flesh and blood, is this the face of man,
After the worlds sad separation?
Must all return to this! oh London, London:
Thy flattery and guile
Has bin the cause that I my self exil'd,
By Servants sorrow and Daughters sin:
I will behold thy populous streets no more,
Nor breath in thee, nor surfet in thy store:
Here in my grave, I'le live and learn to dye,
That after death my Soul to Heav'n may fly.

Enter Lobster.
'Tis a fine world, when a man must call a man
Out of his grave to eat vittles.
They talke of watching of a dead corse; I am
Sure, I have watcht a quick one this
Month, and brougt him meat so long
That I am almost starv'd my self.
I have brought him a clean shirt,
I would he would shift himself.
I found a lowse about him as big as
The top of my thumb, I thought as much:
He's talking with that same calfs head still;
Sure 'tis a Lawyers head, he
Findes so, much talke with it, it is not abel to
Answer a wise word: I am so hungry,
My guts are allmost clung together.
Mr, pray will you leave your prating
To that Memento mori, and go to break-feast.

Thorn.
No, set it down, I have no mind of meat,
Till we have thankfull bin we should not eat.

Lobst.
Will you say grace? and if you'le wash your hands,
I'le fetch some water.

Thor.
Oh vanity of fooles! hast thou thus long
Bin my carefull contemplation,
And learn'st thou nothing yet? look on this head,
This careless skull had flesh and blood,
And all like this must meet deformity.
What swearer sees this moth & does not tremble
Oh man! how vain art thou that speakest thy labours
For one bewitching minute of this world.
And after all thy joys to hell be hurld.

Lobst.
I would I were at the heaven of my vittals.
I'de talke of hell afterward.

Thorn.
Hast thou no abstinence for pious works.

Lobst.
There's a piece of pye, I would faine be at it,
Will you eat that, and leave talking to that Testu de morte?

Thorn.
Go call my friends that over see my work,
Bid them come speak with me, and then I'le eat.

Lobst.
I will Sir, but I'le take away the provant,
Least they oversee that you see over.
Ent. 2 Cittizens.
My Master would speak with you.

1 Citt.
All haile to you Sir.

Thor.
All are alike to me, storm, hayl or snow;
I take them thankfully.
You two were sworn overseers and performers of my will.
Tell me, how goes the Abbey forward?

2 Citt.
'Tis allmost finisht Sir,

Thorn.
When it is finisht, I'le have it dedicated
Unto the Monks of St Benedict's Order;
And since I have no child to keep my fame,
I'le call it Thorny Abbey by my name.

1 Cit.
We shall perform your charge: good Sir for pitty
At least remember your most wretched daughter.

Thorn.
You tear my heart, when you but mention her;
Were every penny that is mine a pound,
And the least part of it given for her dowry
Would raise her to the Title of a Queen:
She never should possess it. Her foul sin
Hath brought myne age with sorrow to the grave.

2 Citt.
Poor soul, she spends her hours in a reclusive life
With holy Nunnes, and lives a votarist in Holywell;
That comfort, Sir, should somewhat ease your grief.

Thorn.
It does, it does, and draws down tears to hear it.
Give her a constant heart: oh powerfull heavenl
Still to persevere in that pious end.
And as a signe that I forgive, so she continues firme,
Bear her this blessed token sent from me:
A Fathers gift, and charge her carefully
To look upon this head, and there select
Reasons to answer all the Arguments
Of flesh and blood; there she shall see
The perfect way to find eternity.
And so for ever may your soules be blest;
Whilst from the world and you I thus take rest.

Exit.
Lob.
Are they gone; then Lobster lay about thee:
Open thy mouth, and let in these
Morsels of mortality to gorge thy hunger.
Well, i'le in to a corner and feed like a mandin Soldier.

Exit.
Ent. Edmund and Bishop.
Edm.
Seek not to disallow my good intent,
For I must visit her.

Bish.
To give your grace some satisfaction,
I'le pass a little with Religious Orders:
For ne're no man, unless a Frier in confession,
Might meet in private with a sacred Nunne.

Edm.
High seated Iove far meaner shapes did take,
When he did visit his fair Parramour,
And shall I, that am a mortall then disdaine
The holy habit of a frolick Fryer?
No Reverent man, stand it with thy good liking,
That shape above all other I would take.

Bish.
You shall, in hope your deeds
Shall no way tend to acts of sacriledge.

Edm.
To sacriledge: no our thoughts are pure and free
From the least thought of such a horrid crime:
The habit I will take onely because
I would be admitted to her unknown.

Bish.
Your thoughts are noble Sir, and we'll assist you:
Puts on a Fryer's shape.
Put on this habit, and affect your wishes,
Let me alone to get admittance for you.

Edm.
How doe you like me in this habit, my Lord?

Bish.
Now by my holy Order, Royall Lord,
You in this shape may be admitted
Unto all our Nunnes, and be a helper
To increase their store.

Edm.
There will be one the less by her I fear.

Ent. Abesse and Nunnes.
Ab.
Your humble hand-maids, High and Reverent Lord,
Thus bow themselves before your Fatherhood.

Bish.
We come grave Lady to have conference
With one of your Religious Votarists,
That has, we hear, without Confession
Lived many years in this your Nunnery:
Whose Father being a worthy Cittizen,
All careless of his life hath left his calling,
And by the River Thames, a mile from London,
He late hath builded up a famous Abbey,
Call'd by his own name, Thorny; and for this,
Fearing some sin of hers hath thus inforc't him;
I have here brought a holy Confessor,
That finding the true cause, we may appear
To reconcile her to her Fathers love.

Ab.
'Tis a pious work.

Bish.
Is she not here amongst these holy Sisters?

Ab.
No, my good Lord, go on and call her forth.

Edm.
I'le be her Confessor.

Bish.
And will not trouble your devotion;
Come holy Sister, leave them to themselves.

Ab.
Beleeve me gratious Lord, I know no cause
In her that should inforce her Father
In such sort to estrange his love;
Her life is modest, chaste and vertuous.
Ent. Anne with a deaths-head.
See here, she comes sadly alone:
Ever in grief and contemplation.
It is the Reverent Bishop holy Daughter,
That here has brought a holy Confessour
To have some conference about your Father.

Exit
Edm.
Oh! who can see a beauty muffled up
Thus like the sun in a malignant cloud,
And not shed tears: Beauteous Nun,
I came from your Father.

An.
My Father? oh! holy powers forgive him
That has forgotten me: but I'le pray for him.
He never more will see me but in death,
As this sad token sent me witnesseth;
And 'tis more wellcome comming from his hands
Then all earths pleasure: here I'le learn to dye,
And never grieve him with my memory.
This object tells me, that this life is vain,
All come from earth and must to earth again.

Edm.
A good resolve a vertuous persuasion;
But tell me fairest, what was the cause
That made your Father to forsake you thus?

An.
Heaven pardon him, I pray, that sundred us.

Edm.
Him? who? why? were there more Originalls
Then your self?

An.
Oh holy Frier, let that point alone.
I may hurt one by that confession,
Which once I dearly loved, but woe is me,
His love has brought me to this misery.

Edm.
What was he? speak, for you are sworn
To open every scruple of your conscience
To your Confessor that his sapient judgment
May minister a balsome to your wounds,
The oyl of vertuous counsell that's distilde
From the unfained counsell of a tongue
That still speaks truth Play the good Chirurgeon,
Draw forth the filthy ulcers of your ill.
That your immaculate good may still rest sound:
Else the corrupted fistula of Sin
Will putrifie the purest of your goodness:
Nor need you fear I will disclose,
For I am sworn ever to keep it close.

An.
O! holy Father, pray for me, and him
I once did love.

Edm.
It is my duty for to pray for him,
To entreat the powers above to quit his sin.
And yours: what e're it were, but one
You once did love; in that there is no sin.

An.
Not, if the hearts be true;
But ours met not, and there my sorrow grew.
His place wa high, and eminent in State:
Mine low of birth, and most unfortunate.
Oh! let me name his Name with Reverence,
He is a Royal, great and gracious Prince:
Nay more, he's now a King.

Edm.
But tell me pray,
Was not your love equally paid from him?

An.
Oh no! his very thought yet comforts me:
Yet 'tis for him I live in misery.
Lord Edmund, Brother to the King deceast,
Made me believe he lov'd me, and I thought
His oaths and protestations like himself
Should all be Noble, true and virtuous.
So rendred up my Virgin state to him:
Oh! then my grief began; he soon forgot
His former vows, and left me big with child,
Which being by my Father once espide,
And I not daring to make known my love,
Lest I should wrong the Prince: in rage and grief
He thrust me forth his doors: exclaim'd on me,
Taking such grief unto his aged heart,
That never since he would acknowledge me;
And in a grave he leads a life so poor,
That to my heart it is a grievous sore.
The angry Fates have all conspird to show
The most that their enraged power can do.
My father's heart hath quite renounc't his child,
And my affections from my self exil'd.
I onely wish my hasty hour-glass run,
And with my cares my daily tears were done.

Edm.
The King is just; how can there be then
Such unexpected Constancy in men?

Anne.
My noble King is just, to whose royal breast,
'Tis too great boldnesse, for me to make request.
I am too mean for him to think upon,
Long may he live, and long t'enjoy his own:
That everlasting dayes may Crown his head,
Shall be my pray'rs while here I'me Cloistered.

Edm.
What a soul of Virtue hath this woman?

Anne.
My father's Legacy, this Sceleton
Shall be my mate, and sole Companion;
This face will not deceive me: 'tis my dear
And counstant tutour, I will it hear;
And in my armes for ever shall it lye,
'Till death and dust have hid my misery.

Edm.
Oh my heart, how heavy art thou grown!
My lord Bishop, I can no longer own
This Fryars Coul, for I must now disclose
My self, sh'has suffer'd for my woes.
But yet I'le stay and see the event of all.

Enter Wiltshire, young Edmund, and Abbesse.
Woodf
Here comes your fair Son,
To see you, Nun.

Aun.
Oh my dear Child!

Young Edm.
Am I a King's Son, Mother?

An.
I dare not say, thou art; yet heaven well knowes it.

Wilt.
Our good King's fair soul hath confest it,

An.
My duty on my knees I tender him,
Beseeching you to assure his Majesty,
That if the holy vows of faithfull hearts,
Witnest by heaven, may make a marriage lawfull
Without this earthly ceremonious state,
This child is onely his legitimate.

Edm.
I can forbear no longer, I believe thee.
Come to my soul, thou best of women!
Within this small circumference of my armes
I hold a jewel,
That which I prise more then my diadem.
Come my dear love.

An.
Oh my dear Lord!

Abb.
The King turn'd Friar?

Edm.
Come I must take away your Votaris.

Abb.
Your Highness may command, so she be pleas'd.
I could my self change states, to be so rais'd.

Edm.
Dry up these tears, all grief is overthrown.

An.
Content be yours: I am no more my own,
But Oh! my Father.

Edm.
Has lost himself in grief; but when he hears
Our sacred union, he'll find new joys:
Come my fair Queen, set forward to our Court,
Where we'l espouse thee. On Reverend Bishop,
Thy hand shall joyn us; let all people sing,
Anne Thorny's wife unto Great Englands King.

Exit.
Ent. Old Thorny, led by an Angel.
Th.
Oh! stay, thou Minister, yet speak to me.
Why hast thou led me all this silent night
'Bout this large building, as if y'ould survey
Their workmanship and statelinesse;
I did not for my self erect this pile:
I have a Pallace for my proper use.

Ang.
From the white path of blest Eternitie,
I'me sent to comfort thy mortality:
Persevere Thorny, as thou hast begun;
Thou shalt be made a bright Celestiall Sun,
And with a quire of Angels thou shalt sing.
Thy pilgrimage and toyl is almost ended,
And now arriv'd whither thy steps have tended,
Leaving the world and her abortive race,
And sit as King in an immaculate place.

Exit.
Thor.
Into what Sphear is my transcending soul
Climb'd from the earth: me thinks even now, I see
How death comes in, to part this world and me.
I'le hast me to my tombe, and meet thee there.
What ho my man; wake Sirrah, rise, and leave
My silent tomb: I'le now go sleep my self.

Lob.

I can never rest, sleeping nor waking
This 'tis to serve a Master that's troubled with
Chollimolly. Some talk of taking pleasure in
their bed, I'm sure I take none there; for I am
almost asleep before I go to bed, and I am call'd
up before I wake. And this my masters bed,
that he sayes shall be his grave, is none of the
softest, and surely none of the easiest neither;
for if it were he would not talk so much of it. He
thinks, says and speaks of nothing else, but of
that and his dying, two things I can't abide to
hear of: If he would mention good provision,
as plum-Pudding, good pouder'd beef, mutton
or veal, turkies or capons, pasties or tarts; there

were some comfort towards the keeping up of
this poor frail flesh. But he's alwayes peeping on
a bare deadman's head, talking of grim death, of
an hourglasse run out, and of tapers that are
burnt, and such like heavy stuffe, that my weak
stomack can't digest. Well, I'le walk easily home
and see what loan hath provided for us; for unlesse
I do look after all, we shall have nothing.

Exit.
Thorney
awakes and enters.
Thus, thus my joyes are quite extinguisht, never
To be reviv'd: thus gon, thus gon for ever.
Oh world, what art thou? naught but discontent,
A Chaos of confusion, making man repent
All his delight and pleasure he hath past;
That bringeth naught but misery at last.
Oh heaven! how much unto thee am I bound?
That I an end of this my grief have found;
And through this pilgrimage of life at last
With patience through it I have gone and past;
But oh! the sad remembrance of my child
Has drawn back my grief, that now was quite exil'd;
Still gripes my heart; but being now to die,
All dying men should end in charity.
I doe forgive her now: doe thou so heaven,
And then the debt of her defame is even.

Enter Young Edmund, Wiltshire and Woodford.
Young Edm
Good Sir, where, where's my grandfather?
Pray shew him me,
That I may ask his blessing on my knee.

Thorn.
Ha! what apparition's this? I was awake even now,
Why doe you kneel, or thus stand bare about me?
You doe not worship me, I'me sure; I am no Idol;
You hear me speak, I hope.

VVood.
We think no less, but that you are a man,
And living;
This, Mr. Thorney, is the Royal Prince.

Thorn.
Pray, pardon me, I doe not come at Court.
You see good Sir, what doting age can doe:
It is my duty then to kneel to you.

VVood.
Stand up, good Sir, alas! why doe you kneel?
Why doe you turn aside?

Thorn.
Stand up my Daughters Son,
And tempt no more my resolution:
I'le ne're more see thee, nor thy worthy Mother Queen,
Though trap't with all the ornaments of state:
And for her memory, even Thee I hate:
Yet though I see thee not, thus on thy head
I'le backward lay my hand, and bend my knee,
With sighs and tears to pull a blessing down,
Shall be more pretious then thy fathers Crown;
Let heaven and holy Angels ever spread
Their blest beatitudes upon thy head;
Peace crown thy days; all graces thee attend,
And to thy race, let thy race never end:
Live long in virtue, let thy good o'regrow thee,
Or die before thy bad shall overthrow thee;
Nay rise my Child, thy face ne're more I'le see,
But pray to send thee blest eternitie:
Commend me to thy Mother; say, that I
Freely forgive her, and to heavens doe pray.
To wipe her deep insculped sins away:
And though on earth she now is placed high,
Oh! let her ne're transcend Humility.
My starrs burn dim; my times sand-glass is run.
Record what for a daughter I have done;
And to the King, my Royal Son, say thus,
That his bale Father dy'd ambitious.
For when his fainting body thus sunk down,
His soul flew up to heav'n, to gain a Crown.

Young Edm
O my Grandsire!

Dyes.
VVood.
I want tears to lament his misery.

VVilt.
Where's the Reverend man?

VVood.
He's dead, he's dead.
My good Lord of Wiltshire;
Before the gasp of his last breath was gon,
(His speech being usher'd with a deep fetcht groan,
Through the sad confluence and mistie throng
Of his distracted thoughts) his feeble tongue
Dropt forth these words; Thus fleet, thus transitory
Is mans delight, and all that painted glory
Poor earth can give: Nor wealth, nor bloud, nor beauty
Can quit the debt, that necessary duty
They owe to change and time; but like a flow'r
They flourish now, and fade within an hour.

Wilt.
The world is like a Play, his glass is run,
Death acts the Epilogue, and thus his dayes are done.
The King and Queen are come to comfort him.

VVood.
They come too late,
Whirlewinds of grief has overwhelm'd lifes state.

VVilt.
He is then dead.
Alas! this suddain death
Will strike the Court with grief and heaviness:
But hark, they come.

Ent. King, Queen and Attendants.
King.
Where's aged Thorny?

Quee.
Where's my displeased Father?

VVoodf.
Here's his Effigies drawn unto the life:
By the grave workman of mortality,
All dreading death: this doth prefigurate
Man's pilgrimage; on earth whose steps do tend
To bring his life unto his journyes end.

Queen.
O me! unhappie eyes, rain down bring drops,
And with them here embalme my Father's Corps.
Had I but got his blessing e're he died,
I had bin happy.

Young Edm.
You want not that, Mother.
For in his blessing me, he did name you,
And sent to you a blest Beatitude.

Queen.
Heaven quit him for't: let all the Court
In black lament his death:
And let's in sighes chaunt forth his requiem;
And to express my love unto the Hearse,
From whence I came, the Nuns I'le freely give
Five hundred pounds a year whiles that I live.

King.
And I'le make sure thy gift. And now,
His old lamented Corps let be convai'd
Upon a Chariot, lin'd and overlaid
With Sables; then to receive the Crown
Prepar'd for Virtue and deserv'd Renown:
Where now we leave him to be full possest
Of endlesse peace and everlasting Rest.
Set on to Court, 'till a fit time doth call
To solemnize this mournfull Funeral:
And while the world shall last, old Thorny's name
Shall live recorded in the book of Fame.