University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Westminster Hall.
King, Walworth, Philpot, Sir John Tresilian, &c.
Walworth.
My liege, 'twas wisely ordered, to destroy
The dunghill rabble, but take prisoner
That old seditious priest: his strange wild notions
Of this equality, when well exposed,
Will create ridicule, and shame the people
Of their late tumults.

Sir John.
Aye, there's nothing like
A fair, free, open trial, where the King
Can choose his jury and appoint his judges.

King.
Walworth, I must thank you for my deliverance,
'Twas a bold deed to stab him in the parley.
Kneel down, and rise a knight, Sir William Walworth.

Enter Messenger.
Messenger.
I left them hotly at it. Smithfield smoked
With the rebels' blood! your troops fought loyally,
There's not a man of them will lend an ear
To pity.

Walworth.
Is John Ball secured?

Messanger.
They have seized him.

Enter Guards, with John Ball.
1st Guard.
We've brought the old villain.

2d Guard.
An old mischief maker—
Why there's fifteen hundred of the mob are killed,
All through his preaching.

Sir John Tr.
Prisoner, are you the arch-rebel John Ball?

John Ball.
I am John Ball; but I am not a rebel.
Take ye the name, who, arrogant in strength,
Rebel against the people's sovereignty.

Sir John Tr.
John Ball, you are accused of stirring up
The poor deluded people to rebellion;
Not having the fear of God and of the King
Before your eyes; of preaching up strange notions,
Heretical and treasonous; such as saying
That kings have not a right from Heaven to govern;
That all mankind are equal; and that rank.
And the distinctions of society,
Aye, and the sacred rights of property,
Are evil and oppressive; plead you guilty
To this most heavy charge?

John Ball.
If it be guilt,
To preach what you are pleased to call strange notions,
That all mankind as brethren must be equal;
That privileged orders of society
Are evil and oppressive; that the right
Of property is a juggle to deceive
The poor whom you oppress; I plead me guilty.

Sir John Tr.
It is against the custom of this court
That the prisoner should plead guilty.

John Ball.
Why then put you
The needless question? Sir Judge, let me save
The vain and empty insult of a trial.
What I have done, that I dare justify.

Sir John Tr.
Did you not tell the mob they were oppress'd;
And preach upon the equality of man;
With evil intent thereby to stir them up
To tumult and rebellion?

John Ball.
That I told them
That all mankind are equal, is most true:
Ye came as helpless infants to the world;
Ye feel alike the infirmities of nature;
And at last moulder into common clay.
Why then these vain distinctions?—bears not the earth
Food in abundance?—must your granaries
O'erflow with plenty, while the poor man starves?
Sir Judge, why sit you there, clad in your furs;
Why are your cellars stored with choicest wines?
Your larders hung with dainties, while your vassal,
As virtuous, and as able too by nature,
Though by your selfish tyranny deprived
Of mind's improvement, shivers in his rags,
And starves amid the plenty he creates.
I have said this is wrong, and I repeat it—
And there will be a time when this great truth
Shall be confess'd—be felt by all mankind.
The electric truth shall run from man to man,
And the blood-cemented pyramid of greatness
Shall fall before the flash.

Sir John Tr.
Audacious rebel;
How darest thou insult this sacred court,
Blaspheming all the dignities of rank?
How could the Government be carried on
Without the sacred orders of the King
And the nobility.

John Ball.
Tell me, Sir Judge,
What does the Government avail the peasant?
Would not he plough his field, and sow the corn,
Aye, and in peace enjoy the harvest too?
Would not the sun shine and the dews descend,
Though neither King nor Parliament existed?
Do your court politics ought matter him?
Would he be warring even unto death
With his French neighbours? Charles and Richard contend,
The people fight and suffer:—think ye, Sirs,
If neither country had been cursed with a chief,
The peasants would have quarrell'd?

King.
This is treason!
The patience of the court has been insulted—
Condemn the foul-mouth'd, contumacious rebel.

Sir John Tr.
John Ball, whereas you are accused before us,
Of stirring up the people to rebellion,
And preaching to them strange and dangerous doctrines;
And whereas your behaviour to the court
Has been most insolent and contumacious;
Insulting Majesty—and since you have pleaded
Guilty to all these charges; I condemn you
To death: you shall be hanged by the neck,
But not till you are dead—your bowels open'd—
Your heart torn out, and burnt before your face—
Your traitorous head be severed from your body—
Your body quarter'd, and exposed upon
The city gates—a terrible example—
And the Lord God have mercy on your soul.

John Ball.
Why, be it so. I can smile at your vengeance,
For I am arm'd with rectitude of soul.
The truth, which all my life I have divulged,
And am now doom'd in torments to expire for,
Shall still survive. The destined hour must come,
When it shall blaze with sun-surpassing splendour,
And the dark mists of prejudice and falsehood
Fade in its strong effulgence. Flattery's incense
No more shall shadow round the gore-dyed throne;
That altar of oppression, fed with rites,
More savage than the priests of Moloch taught,
Shall be consumed amid the fire of Justice;
The rays of truth shall emanate around,
And the whole world be lighted.

King.
Drag him hence:
Away with him to death; order the troops
Now to give quarter, and make prisoners—
Let the blood-reeking sword of war be sheathed,
That the law may take vengeance on the rebels.