University of Virginia Library

The Scene is drawn. The Queen weeping.—A Lady attending.
Qu.
How am I robb'd of all my joys in Youth?
That now my doleful Years will hang on me,
Like a great Family on a poor Bankrupt.
My hope is, Destiny will ne're be able,
With this great weight of Misery upon me,
To drag me to the Prison of old Age,
Where we lie cold and dark as in the Grave,
And have as great a load of Earth upon us;
Where melancholy thoughts about us crawl,
Like Toads in Dungeons about Malefactors:
That Prison, where through gates of Horror wrinkled
Fate feeds us with the Water of our Tears,
But enough to quench the thirst of Sorrow,
For the old Well is then almost dried up.

Lady.
Oh! Madam! you'l bring Age on you in Youth,
If you weep thus.

Qu.
I wou'd if I cou'd, bring on me
The only joy of Age to be near Death.
But I have a long Life to travel through,
Barren and comfortless as any Desert,
And I am spoil'd of all just at the entrance.

Enter another Lady.
2 Lady.
Madam, there's a Gentleman without
Come from aboard a Vessel, where the Duke
Of Suffolk lately was.—

Qu.
Oh! bring him!
Enter a Gentleman.
Oh! saw you lately, Sir, the Duke of Suffolk?

Gent.
Yes, Madam.

Qu.
Oh! How does he?

Gent.
Well, I doubt not;
He is at the end of an unhappy Journey.—

Qu.
In France already?

Gent.
In a better Country.—
Madam, forgive my zeal to my dear Lord.
I had the honour to be once his Servant;
And knowing well your Majesty did bear
A very great respect to his great Merit.
Came to entreat you to revenge his Blood!

Qu.
His Blood!

Gent.
His Blood: See Madam, this was once,
The beauteous manly Visage of my Lord.

Shews the Duke of Suffolk's Head.
1 Lady.
She faints! she dies! Oh! help for Heaven's sake.

2 Lady.
She stirs; she's coming to her self again.

Qu.
Why have you wak'd me from this pleasing slumber,
In which I had forgotten my vast misery?
Where is the bloody Spectacle you shewed me?

1 Lady.
Away with it!

Qu.
Shew it me again, I say.
Oh! barbarous and bloody Spectacle!
Is this the Noble Duke? Is this the man
That was the pride of Nature, England's Ornament,
But now is England's everlasting shame.
Oh! my dear murder'd Duke! Is this the meeting
Which we at parting promised to each other?
Love promis'd more than Destiny cou'd pay.
Who did this cursed deed?

Gent.
A cursed Pyrate,
Who in the Rivers Mouth clapt him aboard,
And took the Duke and all of us his Prisoners.
The Duke they knew not till they spy'd his George,
And then he own'd himself, and for his Ransome,
Offer'd what sums of Gold they wou'd demand;
He chanc'd to be one Walter Whitmore's Prize,
Who lost in Fight his eye.

Qu.
And to revenge it,
He wou'd put out the Sun.

Gent.
Yes, kill the Duke.
And he was stirr'd to greater insolence.
By that damn'd Villain, which they call'd their Captain,
Who said the Duke had murder'd good Duke Humphry,
Begger'd the King, lost France, and ruined England.
Nay, his foul Tongue did not refuse to spit
Dishonour on your Sacred Majesty,
And said the Duke had injur'd the King's Bed.

Qu.
Impudent Villain!

Gent.
For all which foul Crimes,
He said he wou'd revenge the King and Kingdom.

Qu.
Bold bloody Villain.

Gent.
The brave Duke on this,
Calling to mind his Birth was Calculated,
And it was told him he shou'd die by Water,
He thought at first the Fiend had quibbled with him,
And he shou'd die by one who was call'd Water;
But then remembring that he was at Sea,
He found the Devil had two strings to his Bow,
So Saw himself encompast round with Destiny.
Then lifting up his Eyes to Heaven he smil'd,
As if he in his noble thoughts derided
The sport Fate makes with great mens Lives and Fortunes.
Then looking down with scorn on his base Enemies,
He gave a sigh, at which he nam'd Queen Margaret,
And with that grace he acted every thing,
He bowed his Head, and had it stricken off.

Qu.
Oh! execrable Villains! cou'd this face
Which govern'd me, not strike an awe in you?
Who were not worthy once to look up it?
And thou unfortunate gallant man!
Thy Wit, thy Valour, and thy delicate Form,
Were mighty faults, which the World cou'd not bear.
No wonder the vile envy of the base
Pursued thee, when the Noble cou'd not bear thee,
They cursed thee as the Negroes do the Sun,
Because thy shining Glories blackned e'm.
For which, Oh England! thus I pray for thee!
May'st thou ne're breed brave Man, or if thou dost,
Oh! let him be thy Ruine, or thou his.
May all thy Witty men be sadly Vitious,
Let sloth devour their Fortunes, Fools their Fame,
Lewdness their Souls, their Bodies Foul Disease.
May thy Wise Men be Factious, and head Fools,
If they be honest let e'm loose their Heads.
Let thy Brave men against thy self be bravest,
Be Men at foreign, Devils at Civil War.
Let all thy Pious Sons with zeal run mad,
And make Religion thy Reproach and Curse.
May'st thou have all Religions to confound thee,
And none to save thee.—Here a bloody Altar,
Oh! cruel England! hast thou made for me,
Therefore these bloody Prayers I make for thee.

2 Lady.
The King is coming, Madam.

Enter the King.
King.
Oh! my Lord,
I bring thee frightful News, the Kentishmen
Are up in Arms, headed by one Jack Cade,
A Fellow who proclaims himself Lord Mortimer,
Descended from the Duke of Clarence Line.
He is marching towards London, in the head
Of a rude rugged merciless crowd of Peasants;
And all the way he proclaims me Usurper,
And vows to Crown himself at Westminster.
And in this great distress, to comfort me,
The tray'trous Duke of York, with a great Power,
Is marching hither too, and he proclaims
He comes but to remove the Duke of Sommerset,
But most believe he secretly intends
To reap the benefit of Cade's Rebellion.
That I am like a Ship beset with danger,
Threatned with Wracking by the Kentish Storm,
Or to be Boarded by that Pyrate, York.

Qu.
So! so my Curse on England springs already.
(Aside.
Oh! this were Musick to me, were it not
Allay'd by the sad weeping of my Son,
Heir of these Noble Kingdoms; who, methinks,
Sighs in my Ear, Ah, Mother, for my sake
Pity the helpless King my unfortunate Father!
He was Crown'd King when he was nine Months old,
But if you do not aid him, his Misfortune
Will never suffer me to be a King.
For thy sake Princely Boy, I will assist him,
And something for his own, he's a good Man,
Though a weak King; and it was my ambition
Made Suffolk stain his hands in innocent Blood.
Which Crime forgive me Heaven, and let the Duke
Of Suffolk's Blood be all my Punishment.

Enter Sommerset and Buckingham.
Buck.
Oh! fly Sir, fly, the Rebels are in Southwark;
The Citizens through fear forsake their Houses.
The Rascal People all joyn with the Traytors,
Threatning to spoil the City, and your Court.

Som.
Take comfort, Royal Sir, we'll all stand by you.

King.
Pray let as little Blood be shed as possible.
I'le send a holy Bishop to entreat e'm
To spare their Souls and Bodies; I will promise e'm
To mend my Government, for I confess,
England may yet Curse my unfortuate Reign.

Qu.
Come, Sir, take Spirit in you; Men like Buildings
Fall to the Ground, if never Fire burn in e'm
To harden e'm; King's a Royal Building,
That shou'd have no soft. Clay in it at all.
Adversity has always reign'd upon you,
And made you soft; but yield not, Sir, to Rebels.
Royalty like great Beauty, must be chaste,
Rogues will have all, if once they get a taste.

Exeunt.