 | The Valiant Scot |  |
Act. IIII.
Enter Wallace with Drum, Colours, and Souldiers, they all imbrace him.Com.
D'ee heare th'English march? they are at hand.
Now Grimsby, they for Pikes are tossing Cans.
Gri.
I am glad our thunder wakes 'em.
Men.
Shall we on?
Gen.
Whether ist best to stop 'em in their march,
Or here to make a stand and front 'em.
Om.
Stand.
Gen.
Or else retire back to the spacious Plaine
For battaile far more advantagious.
Wal.
And so retiring be held runawayes.
Here stands my body, and ere this English Wolves
Stretch their jaws ne're so wide, from hence shall drive
I'le rather lie here fifty fathome deep,
Now at this minute, then by giving back
One foot, prolong my life a thousand yeers.
Gen.
Then let us die or live here.
Om.
Arme, arme.
Wal.
Fall back? not I, death of my selfe is part,
I'le never flie my self, heres no false heart:
Lets in our rising be, or in our falls
Like bels which ring alike at Funerals,
As at Coronations, each man meet his wound,
With self-same joy as Kings go to be crown'd,
Where charge you?
Gen.
In the battaile, valiant Grimsby
Is Generall of our Horse, the infantry
By comming is commanded, Mentith and you
Shall come up in the Reare.
VVal.
The Reare.
Gen.
Yes.
Wal.
No, sir.
Let Mentith, Wallace shall not.
Gen.
He may choose.
Wal.
Were I to hunt within a Wildernesse
A herd of Tigres, I would scorn to cheat
My glories from the sweat of others brows,
When others strength had tam'd him, let me meet
The Lion being new rowz'd, and when his eyes
Sparkle with flames of indignation,
I ha' not in the Academe of War
So oft read Lectures, chief now to come lag,
I'le ha' the leading of the Van or none.
Gen.
Then none, you wrong us all,
Men now are plac'd, and must not be dishonour'd.
Wal.
So, dishonour'd.
Gen.
Charge in the Reare for Gods sake, now to stand
On terms of worth hazards the fate of all.
Wal.
Well be't so then, the Reare, see you yon hill,
Yonder i'le stand, and tho I should see Butchers,
Cut all your throats like sheep, I will not stirre
Till I see time my selfe.
Gen.
Your pleasure, on,
Each Leader spend his best direction.
Exeunt.
Enter King, Percy, and Bruce, Hertford, Sir Ieffrey, and Bolt, with Drums and Colours.
King.
Which is the fellow?
Bo.
I am the party sir.
Per.
Stand forth before the King,
Jef.
Nay, he's no sheep-biter.
King.
Didst thou kill Wallace?
Bo.
Yes marry did I sir, if I should be hang'd here
before yee, I would not deny it.
King.
How didst thou kill him? hand to hand?
Bo.
Hand to hand, as Dog-killers kill dogs, so I beat
out his brains I'me sure.
K.
Me thinks, thou shouldst not look him in the face.
Bo.
No more I did, I came behind his back & felld him.
King.
Art thou a Gentleman?
I am no gentleman borne, my Father was a
poore Fletcher in Grubstreet, but I am a gentleman by
my place.
Kin.
What place?
Bo.
A Justices Clarke, sir Jeffery Wiseacres.
Je.
My man, if it please your Majesty, an honest true Knave.
Kin.
Give to sir Wiseacres Clark an hundred pounds.
Jef.
I thank your grace.
Bolt.
God confound all your foes at the same rate:
K.
But if this Wallace, sirra, be alive now,
You and your hundred-pound shall both be hang'd.
Bolt.
Nay I will be hang'd ere I part from my money,
Who payes, who payes?
Enter Clifford.
Clif.
Charge, charge.
K.
The news brave Clifford.
Cli.
The daring Scot fuller of insolence then strength
Stand forth to bid us battell.
K.
Throw defiance back downe their throats, and of our Heralds
Northumberland the honor shall be thine, tell 'um
We come to scourge their pride with whips of steele,
Their City hath from Iustice snatch'd her sword
To strike their Soveraigne, who ha's turn'd the point
Vpon their own breasts, tell 'em this.
Per.
I shall.
Exit.
Cliff.
Where's noble Bruce?
Bru.
Here.
Cliff.
I have a message, but tis more honorable, sent to you too,
The Herald saies that Wallace dares ye, his
Spite is all at you, and if your spirit be great
K.
Hang up that wiseacres, and the fool his man.
Bolt.
My master, not me sir, I have a Recognizance of him
To stand betwixt me and the gallows.
K.
A Kings word must be kept, hang 'em both.
Bolt.
One word more good Sir, before I go to this geere,
If a Kings word must be kept, why was it not kept, when
he gave me the 100. li. wipe out one, I'le wipe out the
other.
Kin.
That jest hath sav'd your lives, let me see you
fight to day.
Jeff.
Bravely like Cocks.
Bolt.
Now Wallace look to your coxcombe.
Omn.
Move on.
Enter to them the Scottish Army, and are beaten off.
King.
We have flesh'd them soundly.
Cliff.
I would not wish to meet with braver spirits.
K.
Stay, Bruce, what's yonder on the hill?
Bru.
They are Collors.
Kin.
Why do they mangle thus their Armies limbes?
Whats that so farre off?
Br.
Sure 'tis the Reare, where burns the black brand,
Kindles all this fire, I meane the Traytor Wallace?
King.
What turn'd Coward?
A dogge of so good mouth, and stand at bay?
If in this heat of fight we breake their ranks,
Presse through, and charge that devill, Bruce thy selfe.
Bru.
To hell if I can chase him.
Kin.
Charge up strong, harke, brave,
Let now our hands be warriors, not our tongues.
Exeunt.
A cry within.
They flye, they flie.
Generall.
The English shrink, knit all our nerves
And fasten Fortunes offer.
Gri.
Keep steedy footing, the daye is lost if you stir,
Stirre not, but stand the tempest.
Coming.
I cry on.
Gen.
And I.
Grim.
So do not I, this starting backe is but an English
earth-quake, which to dust, shakes rotten towers,
but builds the sound more strong.
Gen.
Lets on, and dare death in the thickest throng.
Enter the English Army, and encompasse them.
Grim.
Did I not give you warning of this whirpoole
For going too farre?
Ment.
We are all dead men, yet fight
So long as legges and Armes last.
King.
In how quicke time
Have we about you built a wall of brasse?
Had he whom here you call your Generall
A Souldier beene remarkable of great breeding,
And now to be caught with lyme-twigs?
Generall.
Keepe our ground.
Grim.
If we must fall, fall bravely.
Ment.
Wound for wound.
Alarum. Exeunt King and Bruce pursuing the Scots.
Clifford, Percy, Grimsby, and Generall stay.
Cliff.
Take breath, I would not have the world rob'd
the noblest Harts of the whole heard are hunted to the toyle,
Aske whether they shall fall, or live for gaine.
Messenger.
I shall.
Exit.
Charge.
Enter Mentith at another doore.
Ment.
For honours sake come downe, and save thy
Countrey.
Wal.
Whose is the day?
Ment.
Tis Edwards, come rescue
Our Generall, and the noble Grimsby.
Wal.
Who?
Ment.
Our Generall and stout Grimsby are enclosd
With quick-sets made of steele, come fetch them off,
Or all is lost.
Wal.
Is the day lost?
Ment.
Lost, lost.
Wal.
Vnlesse the day be quite lost, I'le not stirre.
Ment.
Tis quite lost.
Wal.
Why then descend amaine, art sure tis lost?
Ment.
Yes.
Wal.
Then wee'le winne it againe.
Enter Messenger.
Clif.
How now?
Mes.
The King proclaimes that man a traytor
That saves when he may kill.
Cliff.
Charge them blacke day,
The Lyon hunts a Lyon for his prey.
A fight.
Generall.
Too late.
Wall.
Why then farewell,
I'le make what haste I can to follow thee,
Bruce, Bruce, I am here, 'tis Wallace calls thee,
Dares thee.
Bru.
Tho I nere stoopt unto a traitors lure,
I scorne thine, why do'st thou single me,
Yet turnst thy weapon downward to the earth?
Wal.
Lets breathe and talke.
Bru.
I'le parly with no traytor but with blows.
VVal.
Ye shall have blows your guts full,
I am no traytor.
Bru.
Why 'gainst thy Soveraigne lifts thou then thy sword?
Wal.
You see I lift it not.
Bru.
Tell Edward so thy King.
Wal.
Longshancks was never Soveraigne of mine,
Nor shall whilst Bruce lives, Bruce is my Soveraigne,
Thou art but bastard English, Scotch true borne,
Th'art made a mastive 'mongst a heard of wolves,
To weary those thou shouldst be shepheard of.
The fury of the battell now declines,
And take my counsell, though I seeme thy foe,
Wash both thy hands in bloud, and when anon
The English in their Tents their deeds do boast,
Lift thou thy bloudy hands up, and boast thine,
And with a sharpe eye note, but with what scorne,
The English pay thy merit.
Bru.
This I'le try.
Wal.
Dar'st thou alone meet me in Glasco-moore,
And there I'le tell thee more?
Bru.
Thou hast no treason towards me?
Here's my hand,
I am cleare as innocence, had I meant treason
Here could I worke it on thee, I have none.
Bru.
In Glasco-moore I'le meet thee, fare thee well.
VVa.
The time.
Bru.
Some two houres hence.
VVa.
There I will untie
A knot, at which hangs death or Soveraigntie.
Exeunt.
Enter the English Army.
Kin.
We have swet hard to day.
Cli.
Twas a brave hunting.
Bolt offers to lay his Coat under the king.
Kin.
Sir, some wine
Away in the field all fellows, whose is this?
Bolt.
It was my Coat at Armes, but now tis yours at legges.
King.
Away, why givest thou me a cushion?
Bolt.
Because of the two, I take you to be the better man.
King.
A souldiers coat shall never be so base
To lye beneath my heele, th'art in this place
My fellow, and companion, a health to all in England.
Omn.
Let it come.
Cliff.
Is not this he that kill'd VVallace?
Bolt.
No sir, I am onely he that said so,
As you sit, so did I lye.
King.
Sirra, where's your master?
Bol.
My master is shot.
King.
How shot, where?
Bol.
I'th backe.
Clif.
Oh he ranne away.
Bol.
No, my Lord, but his harnesse Cap was blowne
off, and he running after it to catch it, was shot betweene
necke and shoulders, and when he stood upright he had
two heads.
King.
Two heads how?
Yes truly, his own head and the arrow head, it
was twenty to one that I had not beene shot before
him.
King.
Why prethee?
Bolt.
Because my Knights name being Wiseacres, and
mine Bolt, and you know a fooles bolt is soon shot.
Clif.
He ha's pind the foole upon his masters shoulder
very handsomly.
King.
Sirra, go seek your master, and bid him take order
for burying of the dead.
Bolt.
I shall Sir, and whilst he takes order for the burials
of the dead, i'le take order for the stomacks of the
living.
King.
How fought to day our English?
Per.
Bravely.
King.
How the Scots?
Cliff.
The pangs of war are like to child-bed throwes
Bitter in suffering, but the storme being past,
The talk, as of scap't shipwrack sweet, doth taste,
The death of the Scotch Generall went to my heart,
He had in him of man as much as any,
And for ought I think, his bloud was poorly sold
By his own Countrymen, rather then sought by us.
Had not the Reare where Wallace did command,
Stood and given ayme, it had bin a day
Bloudy and dismall, and whose hard to say,
Sir, you shall give me leave to drink a health
To all the valiant Scots.
King.
Clifford, I'le pledge thee, give me my bowle.
Clif.
Sir, I remembred Wallace in my draught.
King.
I did not, so this cup were Wallace Skull,
I'de drinke it full with bloud, for it would save
The lives of thousands.
Clif.
I for your Kingdoms would not pledge it so.
Per.
I would, no matter how a traitor falls.
Percy, ten thousand Crowns should buy
That traitors head, if I could hav't for money.
Clif.
I would give
Twice twenty thousand Crowns to have his head
On my swords point cut from him with this arme,
But how? i'th field, nobly, hand to hand, not this straw
To a hangman that should bring it me.
King.
Let that passe,
Wher's Bruce, our noble Earle of Carrick?
Per.
I saw him not to day,
Clif.
I did, and saw his sword
Like to a Reapers Sithe, mow down the Scots.
Enter Bruce.
Here he comes.
King.
Brave Armory, a rampant Lion within a field
all Gules,
Bruce.
Following the execution which we held
Three English miles in length.
King.
Give him some wine, art not thirsty?
Bruce.
Yes for Scottish bloud, I never shall have
Enough on't, the Kings health.
Omnes.
Let come.
Per.
How greedily yon Scot drinks his own bloud!
Omnes.
Ha, ha, ha.
K.
If he should taste your bitternesse, 'twere not well.
Bruce.
What's that ye all laugh'd at?
Clif.
Nothing but a jest.
Bruce.
Nay, good Sir tell me.
King.
An idle jest, more wine for Bruce.
Bruce.
No more, I have drunk too much,
Wallace and I did parlce.
How in words?
Bruce.
No Percy, I'me no prater, 'twas with swords,
Your laughing jest was not at me?
Omnes.
Sir, no.
King.
Bruce would fain quarrell,
Bruce.
I ha done sir.
King.
Peace, what Trumpet's that?
Clif.
From the enemy sure.
King.
Go learn.
Enter Rugecrosse a Scottish Herald.
Ruge.
I come from Wallace.
King.
So Sir, what of him?
Ruge.
Thus he speaks.
He bids me dare you to a fresh battaile, by to morrowes sunne,
Army to Army, troup to troup, he challenges,
Or to save bloud, fifty to fifty, shall the strife decide,
Or one to one.
King.
A Herald to the traitor.
Go and thus speak, we bring whips of steele,
To scourge Rebellion, not to stand the braves
Of a base daring vassall, bid him ere that Sun
Which he calls up be risen, pay it and save
His Country and himselfe from ruine, charge him on his head,
To make his quick submission; if he slow the minutes,
Wee'le proclaime in thunder his and his Countries ruine,
Go be gon, Arme.
Omnes.
Arme, Arme.
King.
A Land that's sick at heart must take sharp pils,
For dangerous physick best cures dangerous ils.
Exeunt.
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