The Tragical History of Guy Earl of Warwick The Tragical History, Admirable Atchievments and various events of Guy Earl of Warwick. A Tragedy Acted very Frequently with great Applause by his late Majesties Servants |
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Actus Tertius.
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 | The Tragical History of Guy Earl of Warwick |  |
Actus Tertius.
Enter Time.Thus swiftly runs the silent houres of Time,
whilst wordly men secured by their wealth,
think not on time nor on their soules fair health
but those whose well adorned lymbes are made,
of that pure mettal which shall never fade;
those that have learned of Angells how to sing,
and fills the world with learning and with art,
to those doth Time her Golden gifts impart;
you fair beholders of this honoured story,
think now that Guy of Warwick he is gone,
leaving these Fairies and King Oberon,
and now to fair Jerusalem takes his way;
where hearing of the Wars the Pagans make
against that City and that holy Land,
he now prepares himself by force of Armes,
to save Judea from insuing harmes;
long stories are not told in little time,
much matter in small room we must combyne:
wee'l curt all nothing, yet make something short,
because we would shun tediousnesse of sport;
if it be long, say length is all the fault,
if it be lame, say old men needs must halt.
Enter Sultan Shamurath, Soldan of Babylon, with Zorastes.
Sult.
Thus Sultan Shamurath, as Earthly God of Kings,
have marcht along with all their VVarlike Troopes.
Ten Thousand Gallies, ships and brigandines,
lye dancing on the Adratique Sea,
ready to be commanded when we please,
to bear this Captive King of fair Jerusalem,
to our Triumphant City Babylon;
but say Zorastes, how shall we employ
our VVarlike Forces 'gainst these Christians.
Most dread and mighty Emperour of the East,
whose puissant and warlike Force commands,
even from the orient to the sonnes decline;
suffer not thus these hated Christians
to inmure themselves in walls of stone and brasse,
whilst Sultan Shamurath with all his Lords
attends a day of battle with their swords.
and let Zorastes counsel now prevail,
I'le raise up heaps of damned spirits from hell,
that shall make way unto my bold attempt.
Legions of Divels attend my dreadful Charmes,
ready to be commanded when I please;
then mighty Soldan make no more delay,
my art shall make the Conquerour this day.
Sultan.
Thankes stout Zorastes, great Magician thanks,
but first lets summon them unto a parley
perhaps they'l yield their City to our hands,
knowing our force to be invincible,
and they not able to withstand our power.
Trumpet or Drum summon a parley there.
A parley sounded, Enter the King of Jerusalem upon the walls.
King.
What craves Thasirian Emperour at our hands?
Sultan.
Homage and fealty as thy Soveraigne Lord,
of all these spacious bounds of Christendome;
know petty King of fair Jerusalem
I am the mighty Sultan Shamurath
that rules the tripple City Babylon,
and all the Kingdomes of the Eastern world,
only this little part of Asia,
holds out against us and derides our faith
scorning our Lawes of holy Mahomet,
but by his blessed Alcaron I swear,
I'le ne're depart, nor draw my Army hence,
till in the Temples of Jerusalem,
both Mahomet, Asteroth and Termagaunt,
those holy Gods that Governs Babylon
be set for you stout Christians to adore,
which ye shall do, or all of you shall die,
and basely at our foot like Vassals lie.
King.
Proud and Presumptuous Tyrant as thou art,
we fear no bug-bear threats of Tyranny,
nor all the multitudes thou canst command,
we guard and keep the blessed Sepulchre,
within the walls of fair Jerusalem,
though on a suddain with your heathen Troops,
you have begirt us with a fearful siege:
yet know proud Syrian that fair Zions hill,
King Solomon's Temple, and the marble Tomb,
which we adore with awfull reverence,
can raise a hundred thousand Christians
and proudly beat you back to Babylon.
Sultan.
Thou will not then surrender us thy Town?
King.
Not whilst one man survives to lift a sword,
attempt the worst you can, to save or kill,
we are prepar'd even against the worst of ill.
Exit King.
Sult.
Why then at all, march forward warlike Lords,
wee'l parley now with Pole-axe, Bills and Swords,
darraigne our battles, and begin the Fight,
and Mahound still direct my course Aright.
Exeunt Omnes.
Enter Guy of Warwick Solus.
Guy.
Thus through the help of my dear Saviour Christ,
whose out-strecht arm hath still preserved me,
I am escap't from Sultan Shamurath,
and all his Hoast of cursed Saracens;
now I am come where I may fix mine eyes
safely upon King David's City walls.
Is this Judeas pride, fair Zions hill?
Sanctum sanctorum and the house of Heaven,
the place where my dear Saviour lost his Life?
O how it grieves me to behold thy walls,
hem'd in with Dogs and cursed Saracens,
that seek to rob thee of thy beauty quite,
and turn thy joyful day to mourning night.
But heaven assisting me, I will prevent
their damned purposes, and make them repent,
their journey taken 'gainst Judeas good,
Enter Sparrow crying.
Spar.
Tarry, tarry, tarry, hold, hold, hold.
Guy.
Why? how now sirrah, what's the news with you?
Spar.
O Master are you there? I have done such an exploit as
you never heard of in your life.
Guy.
What's that Sir?
Spar.
Nay, I am sure it passes your Capacity, but I'le tell
you though, for it was a valiant piece of service, when I saw
you got in amongst the Pogons, I thought some body had hired
you to break heads by the dozen, for you never hit any of them,
but they shak't their heels as though they had the Palsey; I seeing
you so hard at work thought it not best to trouble ye, but after
the old manner ran and hid my self in a bush.
Guy.
O Cowardly slave! was this your Valiant piece of
service?
Spar.
O Master you doe not hear half yet, I lay so long till
you were gone, and looking out of the bush, I could see all the
Pogons laid fast asleep; then went I sneaking and stole away their
Snapsacks with all their Victuals, I got up to the top of a Hill,
and eat it up every bit, when I had done, I began to hollow; the
Pogans missing their provant, came running after me, but I made
one pair of Leggs worth two pair of Hands, and out-run them all
ifaith.
Guy.
I thought what hot service you doe alwaies, but peace,
here comes the King of fair Jerusalem.
Enter the King of Jerusalem.
King.
I am a wretched King, the more my wo,
Kings are sometimes distrest, and I am so,
but if thou be that warlike Conquerour,
that through the Pagan hoast hath cut thy way,
I do beseech thee even with woful tears,
to save Judea Sion Palestine,
from base attempt of heathen servitude.
Spar.
If it be? O scurvy, if it be! why I'le tell you Goodman
King, twas I and my master tickled 'um ifaith.
Guy.
True Sir, you and your Master and I, pray what did
you?
Spar.
Why Master? when you had kil'd them, I came and
cut off their Heads.
Where wert thou born? or whats thy Countries name,
brave Christian Knight, may I be bold to ask?
Guy.
My Native Countrey is fair England cal'd,
my name Sir Guy of Warwick hither come
of holy zeal to see my Saviours Tomb,
but seeing it hem'd round about with foes,
I cut a passage with my Warlike sword,
meaning to rescue it or lose my Life.
King.
Heaven prosper thy attempt, lead on Fair Knight,
God and good Angels still protect our Right.
Guy.
God and Saint George in Warwicks quarrel Fight.
Exit Omnes.
Alarum, Enter Sultan, Zorastes from the Fight.
Sultan.
O speak Zorastes, what Divel or Man is that,
which in his Fury confounds such heaps of men?
Zorast.
My Lord I cannot tell, but this I know,
neither Turk nor Saracen can withstand his blow,
our Souldiers fly like chaff before the Wind,
and none can stand against his Conquering sword.
Sultan.
Canst thou not tell me what he is?
nor by thy Magick charmes confound the slave?
Zorast.
I can do both as you shall streight behold;
Bellemoth, Asteroth Ascend.
Spirit.
Quid me vis?
Zorast.
I charge thee tell me truly who it is,
that in his rage confounds and spoiles our men.
Spirit.
'Tis Guy of Warwick that is hither come,
of holy zeal to see his Saviour Tomb.
Zorast.
But never shall he see that Marble Grave,
go Bellemoth, and in a fierce flame,
hoyse him aloft into the vacant Air,
and throw him headlong into the Neighbouring Seas.
Spirit.
Abeo.
Zorast.
No, we fight my Lord, for victory is your's.
Sultan.
Why? then Zorastes once more to the Fight,
and Mahomet direct my course Aright.
Exeunt Omnes.
Then Enter the King of Jerusalem.
King.
Command these brawling Drums to cease their noise,
whilst I salute our Warlike Conquerour,
renown'd Sir Guy of Warwick, whose great name,
extolls fair England with a glorious fame;
sit in our Throne victorious Englishman,
our Crown and Scepter shall be all as free,
to Guy of Warwick as it is to me.
Guy.
Far be it from the thought of Englishman,
to usurp the seat of fair Jerusalem;
but for those favours you have grac't me with
here I resigne unto your princely hands,
Great Sultan Shamurath, King of Babylon.
King.
Victorious Knight, both in thy words and deeds,
this proud presumptuous King of Babylon
which thou surrend rest here as prisoner,
I freely do deliver back to thee,
to ransome or dispose as thou thinkst best.
Sultan.
Let me be ransom'd mighty Christian Knight,
and I will back surrender to thy hands
all those Townes and Castles I have won,
Joppa, Samaria and Rich Nazareth,
with fifty Thousand bars of silver plate,
to ransome home great Sultan Shamurath.
Guy.
I scorn thy league and love, proud heathen King,
I'le make thee now my Vassals underling.
Sultan.
Scornst thou to love the Monarch of the world?
Guy.
The Monarch of black Hell, should I not scorn,
the love of Belzebub Leviathan,
Sultan stamps.
Nay Sir I'le make you tear your Mahomet,
and stamp and stare.
Enter Sparrow with a Pagan in a Halter.
I and swear too ifaith afore I have done with him; O
Master you think I can do nothing, I have catcht a Pogon.
Guy.
How sir I pray?
Spar.
Why Master after the valliantest manner that could be;
for I found him asleep, and having a Halter in my pocket, put
it about his Neck instead of a falling band.
Guy.
But what will you do with him now?
Spar.
Marry Master, first and come fordermost, I'le hang him
two houres by the Clock, then I'le cut off his head because he shall
not call me knave for my labour; and when I have done so, I'le
let him go his way, nay ye whorson Pogon I'le tickle ye that's
The Pogan takes the
Halter from his own
Neck, and put's it about
Sparrows neck,
and runs away.
flat; O Master the Pogon has given me two
slips for a Tester, but I'le after him, if I catch
him again, I'le give him a Cawd east in's Chaps,
that's two turns and a wry mouth, and then he
may drink to his friends all the day after.
Guy.
Since that your Majesty hath back delivered,
this Sultan Shamurath into my hands,
know the ransome I will set on him,
shall please our God and all good Christians.
O blessed Emperour think upon the Crosse,
which is the true badg of our sweet Saviour Christ
by whose great help we have got Victory.
Then to enlarge the Fame of Christendome,
and our great makers ever glorious name,
Thou Sultan Shamurath with all thy Hoast,
shall leave your faith and become Christians;
do this, from any ransome thou art free,
and all thy people set at liberty.
Sult.
We yield consent victorious Conqueror,
the God you serve is great Omnipotent,
ruling the day of battle as he please,
making one hundred kill ten thousand men,
such were the odds of our Battallions;
therefore for Guy of Warwicks sake,
wee'l trust in Christ, and Mahound clean forsake.
Then fit we honour'd to the Marble Tomb,
where you shall have received your Christendome,
you and your Lords shall take a Solemne Oath,
that all your Empery shall do the like;
come on brave Guy, for by thy hand is done,
this Everlasting fame to Christendome.
Exeunt King and Sultan.
Guy.
Go on great Kings, I'le follow presently,
and now since all those wars are at an end,
and that my heavenly Maker hath vouchsaft
to give me victory against his foes,
in lowly Pilgrimage I vow to come,
and visit my dear Saviours blessed Tomb;
there for an everlasting memory,
I'le offer up my sword and furniture,
and here I make a vow in sight of Heaven,
that henceforth i'le never bear Armes again,
but spend the residue of my sinful Life,
in zealous Prayers and repentant Tears,
for all the follies of my wretchlesse youth.
Now glorious God with thy Auspicious eye,
smile on this happy work that's thus began,
to enlarge the fame of blessed Christendome.
Exit.
| The Tragical History of Guy Earl of Warwick | |