University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

—A Chamber in Ludgate.
Old Foster discovered with Mrs. Foster, sitting at a Table, the Keeper attending on R.
Keeper.

Come, come, be merry, sir; do as mourners
do at funerals, wear your hat in your eyes, and laugh in
your heart.

Fos.
I've no fat legacy left me,
To teach me how to play the hypocrite.

Keeper.

No? Why, look ye, sir; you shall want neither
meat, drink, nor anything this house affords; or if
anything abroad, here's money, send for what you will,
sir; nay, you shall beg no more at the grate neither.

Fos.
Ha! Is not this Ludgate?

Keeper.
Yes, sir.

Fos.
A jail, a prison, a tomb of men lock'd up,
Alive and buried?

Keeper.
'Tis what you please to call it.

Fos.
Oh, at what crevice then hath comfort crept
Like a bright sunbeam in? For all the doors
And windows are of iron bar'd to keep
Her out! [Rises and comes forward.]
I had a limb cut from my body
Dear as my life! I had a son and brother!
O, grief! They both would give me poison now,
Before their hollow palms ten drops should hold
Of nature's drink, cold water, but to save
My life one minute? Whence should pity come then?

Keeper.

No matter, sir; since you have good meat set
before you, never ask who sent it. If heaven provide for
you, and make the fowls of the air your caterers, feed you
fat and be thankful, and so I leave you.

[Exit Keeper, R.
Mrs. F.
The keeper is your friend, and pours true balm
Into your smarting wounds; be patient, husband.

Fos.
(L. C.)
Oh wife! [She rises.]
My looses are as numberless
As the sea sands that swallow'd them, and I,
By reck'ning them, my sad griefs multiply!
Enter Robert, R.
Ha! what art thou? Call for the keeper there!
And thrust him out of doors, or lock me up!

Mrs. F.
(C.)
It is your son, sir.

Fos.
Son! I know him not.
[Robert kneels, R. C.
I am no king, unless of scorn and woe!
Why dost thou kneel to me?

Rob.
Oh, my dear father!
I come not like a storm t'increase your wreck,
But to take all the sorrows from your back,
And lay them on mine own.

Fos.
Up, mischief, up?—
Away, and get thee gone!—My heart still hates thee!

Mrs. F.
Sweet husband!—

Fos.
Hence, thou villain!—Keeper!—Ho!

Rob.
Good sir, I'm gone. I will not stay to grieve you.
Oh, knew you for your woes what pains I feel,
You would not scorn me so. See, sir, to cool
Your burning heat of sorrow, I have brought
Four hundred pounds, and joy it is my lot
To lay it down with reverence at your feet.

[Producing a bag of money.
Fos.
Am I awake!

Rob.
No comfort in this world
To me is sweet, while thus you live in moan:
Take it, dear father, and farewell.

[Rises and going R.
Fos.
Stay!—Stay!— [He stops.]

I see mine error now. Oh! can there grow
A rose upon a bramble? In one tide
Poison and health together flow. Alas!
What have I done? Forgive me, my good child!
[Kneels.]
Look—on my knees I beg it. Not for joy
Thou bring'st this golden rubbish, which I spurn,
But that kind heav'n hath torn away the veil
That scarf'd mine eyes up!—Oh, my dear wrong'd son!

Rob.
Gladness o'erwhelms my heart. I cannot speak.
Rise, sir, pray rise!—

[He rises and they embrace.
Mrs. F.
Oh, happy, happy sight!

[Crosses to L.
Fos.
Yet, wife, I disinherited this boy!—

Rob.
Speak not of that, sir—let me have your blessing.

Fos.
For evermore, what blessing can
Repay such duty?

Enter Keeper, R.
Keeper.

Master Foster—the new sheriff, your brother,
is come to Ludgate, and I hasten to know your pleasure,
if you would see him.

Fos.
I'll see a fury first! clap-to the door!—

Rob.
Father, let's fly the thunder of his rage!

Enter Stephen Foster as Sheriff, attended, R.
Steph.
(R.)
Now, where's the keeper? Go, sir, take my officers,
And see your prisoners presently convey'd
From Ludgate unto Newgate, and the Computer.—
How now! What mak'st thou here, thou caitiff? ha!
[To Rob.
Comest thou to heal his wounds that seeks to cut
My throat?—and in despite relieve this dotard?—

Fos.
(L.)
Get from my sight!—comest thou in scarlet pride
To tread on thy poor brother in a jail?
Is there but one small fountain that doth run
Cold water to my comfort, and would'st thou
Stop that, thou cruel man?—

Steph.
(R. C.)
Aye, sir, I would!
When drops but fell on me, you poison'd them,
And thrust a son's name from thy cruel breast
For feeding of his uncle; now that uncle
Shall thrust him starving forth for feeding thee!
Where is my money, knave? [To Rob.]
Four hundred pounds
Received so lately by you from my debtors?

Rob.
(L. C.)
Gone, uncle.

Steph.
Gone!

Rob.
But not at dice, or drinking.

Steph.
This, thou shalt answer, villain?—

[Threatens to strike Robert, Foster throws himself between them.
Fos.
Would'st thou strike?
Wound me then, that will kill thee if I can!

Steph.
Thou rav'st!—

Fos.
How can I chuse?—Thou mak'st me mad!—
Art thou not sham'd to look on these white hairs?
Churl, beat not my poor boy!—let him not lose
Thy love for my sake—see—see—here's thy gold—
Tell it—none's stolen—

[Mrs. F. crosses in the back ground to R.
Steph.
Officer—do your duty.
Arrest that youth.

Rob.
Dear uncle!—

Mrs. F.
(R.)
Gentle brother!—

Steph.
I'm deaf.

Fos.
Fiend!—Tiger!—

Steph.
You will repent this language—
Keeper, away with them out of my sight,
And do, sir, as I charg'd you—

Keeper.
Sir, I will.

Fos.
Poor tyranny when lions weak lambs kill!

[Keeper and Officers force out Foster and Robert, followed by Mrs. Foster, R.
Steph.
(C.)
I'm glad they're gone. Mine eyes with rain swell'd high.
The keeper knows my mind.
Enter Mrs. Stephen Foster, R.
Well, wife, I've paid
My brother's debts, and when he's out of door,
To march to Newgate, he shall be set free.

Mrs. S.
But for your cousin, sir.

Steph.
Fear not for him.
The boy shall not be injured for more wealth
Than London gates lock safe up every night.

Mrs. S.
But why remove the prisoners from Ludgate?

Steph.
To take the prison down, and build it new,
With leads to walk on, chambers large and fair;
For when myself lay here, the noxious air
Choked up my spirits. None but captives, wife,
Can know what captives feel.

Mrs. S.
'Tis a good deed;
And in it I'll walk, hand in hand, with you.
Close to the gate there stands a tenement
That was my father's; take it down, and add
So much ground to the work.

Steph.
'Tis fairly given,
Thy soul on prisoners' pray'rs shall mount to Heav'n.
But I must haste
To join the Mayor and citizens. Come, wife—
I count this day the happiest of my life.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

—Exterior of the Prison, as before.
Enter Foster, Mrs. Foster, Robert, and Officers, from the Prison Door in the back ground.
Fos.
(R. C.)
How? Free!

Officer.
(R.)
As air, sir.

Fos.
You do mock me, surely!
My creditors—

Officer.
Are satisfied.

Fos.
By whom?

Officer.
I may not say; it must suffice you, sir,
Your debts are paid, and you at liberty.

Fos.
Then let us hence, my son, and—

Officer.
Pardon me,
But this young man is still my prisoner.
You heard the Sheriff's charge.

Fos.
Thy prisoner!
Then tell me not I am at liberty!
My child—my own true boy—I will not leave him;
One dungeon shall contain us; 'twas for me
He dared the anger of that cruel Sheriff,
And I will suffer with him—so lead on, sir.

Officer.
I dare not let you bear him company:
You must part here. He goes to Newgate straight.

Rob.
(L. C.)
Adieu, dear father. Hie thee home—be happy—
My uncle will relent and—

Fos.
Never! Never!
He knows not pity. You have been the footstool
Of his new fortunes; and now, like a footstool,
He spurns you from him! But I'll do some deed
Shall force him lodge me in the same dark den.
[Trumpets without.
Ha! Excellent! He's riding now through London
In all the pomp of his new dignity.
I'll beard him in his pride!—Before his officers,
I'the face of the whole city, will I cry
Shame on him!

Mrs. F.
(L.)
Husband! pray thee, patience!

Officer.
Hold, sir!—
You know not what you do. The King himself
Returns from Westminster with the procession
To dine with the new Mayor, and should your boldness—

Fos.
The King! The King! Why, better still! The King
Shall hear and judge between us! He is bound
To do all justice! At his feet I'll fall,
And shame the Sheriff in his own proud Hall!

[Rushes out, L.
Rob.
[To Officer.]
I pray thee, good friend, let us follow him;
His griefs have made him mad; in his despair
He will do some rash act will bring dishonour
On his grey hairs! Pray let us follow him.

Officer.
[Aside.]
Perhaps 'twere best so.
[Aloud.
Well, have with you, sir.

[Exeunt hastily.

SCENE III.

—Cheapside.
The Lord Mayor's Show, as it appeared in the 15th century. Sir Henry Frowicke as Lord Mayor. Hugh Wycke and Stephen Foster as Sheriffs. Aldermen and Citizens, Guards, Spectators, &c.

ORDER OF THE PROCESSION.

• Trumpets.
• Pennon of the City Arms.
• Archers of the City Guard (1)
• Two Salvage Men (2)
• Pageant of the Dragon (3)
• The Principal Crafts then incorporated, each Company with its Banner and Pageant, the Mercers last, being the Company to which the Lord Mayor belongs, as follows: (4)
• Banner and Company of the Grocers.

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49



• Pageant of the Grocers.
• Banner and Company of the Drapers.
• Pageant of the Drapers.
• Banner and Company of the Fishmongers.
• Pageant of the Fishmongers.
• Banner and Company of the Goldsmiths.
• Pageant of the Goldsmiths.
• Banner and Company of the Vintners.
• Pageant of the Vintners.
• Banner and Company of the Armourers.
• Pageant of the Armourers.
• Banner and Company of the Mercers.
• Pageant of the Crowned Virgin, always carried when a Mercer was Mayor. (5)
• The City Waits. (6)
• Morris Dancers, (7)
• With Maid Marian, Hobby Horse, and Fool.
• Pageant of the Giants. (8)
• Banners of Stephen Foster and Hugh Wycke, the Sheriffs. (9)
• Officers of the Sheriffs.
• Clerks of Ditto. (10)
• Sergeants of Ditto.
• Pageant of the Unicorn. (11)
• Pageant of the Ship.
• Banner of Sir Henry Frowicke, Lord Mayor elect. (12)
• Sergeants and Officers of the Lord Mayor. (13)
• Great Banner of the City.
• Sergeant at Arms. (14)
• Mace Bearer.
• Sword Bearer.
• The Two Sheriffs.
• The New Lord Mayor. (15)
• Three Henchmen.
• Banner of Sir Thomas Catworth, the Old Lord Mayor. (16)
• The Old Lord Mayor. (17)
• The Recorder.
• The Aldermen.
• Spearmen of the City Guard.

The Procession passes over the Stage; and the scene changes to the interior of Grocer's Hall (where the Feast was then held), prepared for the Banquet. The Lord Mayor, Sheriffs, Citizens, &c. discovered with Mrs. Stephen Foster, Brown and Jane.—Flourish—Shout.
Enter King Henry VI. L. U. E. Nobles, Guards, &c.
King H.
(C.)
O welcome is all love. Our people's shouts,
In their heart's language, make our benvenues
Most high and sovereign. We return all thanks
Unto our loving subjects.

Fos.
[Without.]
Away!—
I'll speak to the King!

King H.
How now? What means that cry?

Steph.
[Aside, R. C.]
My brother's voice!

King H.
Give room and let them pass!
We are accessible to all our subjects,
But most of all to the unfortunate!

Enter Foster, L. hastily followed by Mrs. Foster, Robert, and Officers.
Jane.
[R. Aside.]
Robert a prisoner!

Mrs. S.
[R. Aside.]
Fear not, all is well.

Steph.
[Aside.]
I could have spared a public explanation;
But be it so, since 'tis so.

King H.
Now, sirs, what would ye?

Fos.
[L. Kneeling.]
Mercy, great King!—Most pious Henry, mercy!
And judgment 'twixt us and that Sheriff there!

King H.
Old man, what is thy grief? Speak on—we hear.

Rob.
[L. Kneeling.]
I am the suppliant plaintiff, Royal Henry;
Hear me, I do beseech you!

King H.
What art thou?

Rob.
I was the son of this distressed father,
Until he took off his paternity
And threw me from his love; then I became
Son to mine uncle, yonder, by adoption,
Who likewise that hath ta'en away again,
And thrown me back to poverty: No son
Was ever tost betwixt two fathers thus,
For still the richest doth despise his heir—

King H.
This may your vices cause—

Fos.
Most gracious King!—
Before I understood his virtuous mind,
I did that forward work—yon now great man
Was an unthrifty wretch, a prodigal then,
And I disdain'd to know his brotherhood.
Denied relief to him; this good, kind child,
Against my contradiction did relieve him,
And in my rage I threw away my son.

Steph.
The like plead I, my liege; for when my state
Had rais'd itself by a most happy chance,
I took this outcast child, made him my own—
When, to my grief, he presently did prove
A traitor to my trust—against my will
Succouring that foe, whom I did hate so much
Only for hating him. He cut large thongs
Of that which was another's—underpropp'd
A ruin'd house with timber not his own—
And for that deed he suffers.

King H.
Hapless youth!
You fall betwixt two pillars—is't not so?

Rob.
My father's hate, my liege, I might deserve,—
I broke his precepts—to my uncle gave
What was my father's—But that now mine uncle
Should throw me from his love for the same deed
Which, done for him, he did approve before,
Beats sorest 'gainst my bosom—if 'twere good
To rob a father for an uncle's food,
In laws of love and nature, how much rather
Might I abridge an uncle for a father!

King.
A fair and shrewd reply—why, master Sheriff—

Steph.
(R. C.)
Oh, let me now anticipate your grace,
And, casting off this shadow, show to all
My heart's true figure. O, my royal liege,
I have two jewels here shall never part
From my love's eye-watch. This, my wife and son—
Whom here, I do enfranchise, and enfold—
[Embracing Robert.
Now sir, to you I come— [To Foster]
your debts are paid,
There's not a creditor can ask you aught—
And, for I know bare liberty is poor
Without assistance, your estate to raise,
The third of mine is yours—say you amen.

[To his Wife.
Mrs. Steph.
No—not to that—you are kind brothers now,
Divide by halves in wealth as in affliction.

Steph.
So let it be— To Foster.]
half my estate is yours.

Fos.
Oh, let my shame, my bosom's centre, break!
[Embrace.
Forget this moment my forgetful hours!

Steph.
Sir, they are buried all.

[Embraces Foster and his Wife.
King H.
You bless our sight
With objects that become the eyes of kings
To look on.

Mrs. Fos.
[To Steph.]
Dearest brother!

Steph.
O, my liege,
There's now a matchless wonder in your sight.

[Taking Mrs. Stephen's hand.
King H.
For beauty, sheriff, I suppose you mean.

Steph.
My liege, I would not so boast my own wife.

King H.
What is it then, I pr'ythee?

Steph.
Patience, sire;
This is a woman that was never vex'd.

King H.
You may boast largely, 'tis a subject's happiness
Above a monarch's; you've a prizeless jewel.

Steph.
I've many, my good liege; a wife, a brother,
And this good son, for whom even with his father
I would have striven.

Fos.
I give him to you now.

Steph.
I take him, sir, and to him back do give
All that myself shall leave of state behind.

Fos.
And all that you gave me I do bestow;
So he is heir to two.

Brown.
(R. C.)
To three, good sir,
For he is heir to me by this bond's virtue.

[Pointing to Jane.
Jane.
I will not have him, sir, on such conditions.

Rob.
Nay, you shall have my love to boot, sweet Jane.
Fairest and best! accept my hand and heart,
Tied in a true love knot, never to part.

Jane.
(R.)
Ay, marry sir, these are much better terms
Than the inheritance of twenty fathers;
I'll have you now, soon as the Priest can join us,
Let him read as fast as he can.

King H.
A King
Shall give her to thee, gentle youth, for ne'er
Could royal hands bestow a gift more fair.
Now to your feast—We'll hear this tale again,
Whose records do deserve a brazen pen,
And this above the rest, in golden text
To be insculp'd—A woman never vext.

[Flourish—Shout—The Curtain falls on the Picture.